Redemption | Drarry

Chapter 4: Hadrian James Potter (Edited)

Hadrian had spent the rest of his summer with the Dursleys, and saying it was normal would be an overstatement, but it was, at the very least, uneventful. Ever since the inheritance, his body had changed-taller, broader, stronger. His features had sharpened, and his once unruly hair now carried an odd sheen, too smooth to be natural. But the strangest part was how he felt-restless, as if something was missing, as if his skin no longer fit right.

The Dursleys had no idea what an inheritance was, but they knew enough to be afraid. They had always loathed magic, but this was something different. Vernon's flinches became more pronounced, Petunia barely spoke to him, and Dudley outright avoided him. Not that Hadrian minded. If anything, their distance gave him time to process whatever was happening to him.

He tried to ignore it. The strange pull in his chest, the occasional sharpness of his senses, how his fingers sometimes twitched as if longing for something just out of reach. But nothing made sense, and no book he skimmed through had answers.

The day of his departure to King's Cross arrived quickly. Hadrian didn't bother asking Vernon for a ride-there was no point. As expected, Vernon was already waiting in the car, eager to be rid of him. The ride was silent, stretched too long despite the familiar route. When they arrived, Hadrian unloaded his trunk, and Vernon sped off before he could shut the car door properly.

Hadrian chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he turned toward the platform barrier.

He lifted his trunk with ease-too much ease. He frowned. His strength had increased far beyond what was normal, and it unnerved him. He adjusted his grip and stepped through the barrier, arriving at Platform 9¾.

The train hadn't arrived yet, so he found a quiet spot, hoping to gather his thoughts, but his moment of solitude didn't last long.

"Harry?"

Hadrian turned at the familiar voice. "Luna?"

Luna Lovegood stood before him, her dreamy gaze fixed on him with sharp intensity, scanning him as if seeing straight through his skin. She blinked rapidly, tilting her head. "Is that really you? You feel... different."

Her words sent an unexplainable chill down his spine. Feel?

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I had an inheritance recently."

Luna hummed in understanding but continued her scrutiny. "Really? What are you? Do you have any weaknesses? Strengths? Mates?"

Hadrian tensed, a low growl escaping his throat before he could stop it.

Luna blinked but did not react otherwise. "Sorry. Wrong subject."

Hadrian exhaled sharply, confused by his own reaction. That growl-where had it come from? Why did that particular word-mate-make something in him stir like an untamed beast?

Luna, as unfazed as ever, smiled. "Would you like to sit with me? I have a lot of questions."

"Of course," Hadrian replied, trying to push away the unease. "And it's Hadrian now."

Luna nodded knowingly. They boarded together, Luna keeping up her stream of odd but insightful questions.

Not long after, Neville Longbottom slid open the cabin door. He looked between them before his gaze landed on Hadrian, and his entire face twisted in confusion.

"Harry?"

Luna answered for him, "Hadrian."

Neville, however, was too busy gawking. "Bloody hell, mate-what happened to you?"

Hadrian sighed. "Long story."

///////

"Draco, dear, remember-no back talking to an alpha unless necessary, no wandering the halls alone if emotional, no-"

"No being disrespectful, no engaging in petty duels, and no making a scene," Draco finished smoothly, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. "I am aware, Mother."

Narcissa gave him a long, searching look before nodding. "Good. And if anything happens-"

"I will handle it accordingly," Draco assured, his tone polite but firm.

Lucius, standing beside Narcissa, regarded him with his usual composed expression. "Do not let others dictate your worth, Draco," he said simply, the closest thing to encouragement he would ever give.

Draco inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Of course, Father."

With that, he turned gracefully, stepping onto the train without a backward glance.

As he made his way through the corridor, students instinctively moved aside. He was aware of their gazes-some curious, some wary-but he paid them no mind. It was only when he reached a compartment near the back that he finally stopped, sliding open the door.

Inside, Pansy and Blaise were already seated, their conversation halting the moment he entered.

"Draco," Pansy greeted, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Looking particularly regal today, I see."

Draco arched a brow as he took his seat. "As if I ever look anything less than impeccable."

Blaise studied him for a moment before exhaling through his nose. "Veela inheritance?"

Draco's expression remained neutral. "Yes."

Pansy's smirk widened. "Submissive, then?"

His jaw tightened slightly. "Astute as always."

Blaise leaned back, his sharp gaze unwavering. "No issues with it?"

Draco met his eyes, unflinching. "I have no issues with myself," he said coolly. "The problem lies with those who fail to recognize that my status changes nothing."

A flicker of approval crossed Blaise's face. "Good."

Pansy tapped a manicured nail against her chin. "I assume your parents were... accepting?"

Draco allowed a humorless smile. "My mother ensured it."

There was no need to elaborate further.

The conversation shifted after that, moving on to idle chatter about their summers. But just as Draco was beginning to settle into the rhythm of familiarity, the compartment door slid open.

Weasley stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression already set in a scowl.

"Well, if it isn't the Slytherin Prince and his court," he drawled.

Draco regarded him with mild disdain, adjusting his sleeve as if Weasley's very presence were an inconvenience. "Weasley," he said smoothly. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Just making sure you lot aren't plotting anything shady," Weasley shot back, narrowing his eyes.

Draco let out a quiet, amused hum. "How diligent of you. Though I would think Gryffindors had better things to do than fabricate conspiracies about their betters."

Blaise snorted. "Clearly, you give them too much credit, Draco."

Pansy sighed dramatically. "It is rather endearing how much time they dedicate to us. I suppose we should be flattered."

Ron's face reddened. "You lot are insufferable."

Draco smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "And yet, here you stand, willingly subjecting yourself to our company."

Before Weasley could retort, the air in the compartment shifted.

The temperature plummeted. Ice crept along the windows, frost forming intricate patterns against the glass. A mist curled around Draco's feet, faint but unmistakable.

Pansy stiffened. Blaise's fingers twitched toward his wand.

Weasley shivered, taking a half-step back. "What the-"

A low, almost imperceptible sound filled the space-a whisper of wind, the crackling of forming ice. And then, beside Draco, something took shape.

A fox, pure white, its fur shimmering like frost beneath moonlight. Its eyes-pale, piercing-fixed unerringly on Weasley, unblinking.

Draco exhaled slowly, the cold curling from his lips like breath in winter air.

"I suggest you find your seat, Weasley," he said, voice smooth as glass. "Before you overstay your welcome."