Lord of time (chapter 41-107)

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To say Hadrian was feeling anxious would be putting it lightly, he had never liked being in the spotlight. Especially Ministry of Magic sort of spotlight, and that was where he would be this night. Watched by everyone, judged, he had already been 'famous' before this, in this time, but tonight would cement his role in the spotlight from which there was no return. It was weird how much he had changed since coming here, to this time, yet at the same time, not. He had come to the past with every intention of just fading into the background, doing what he could from the shadows, only to be propelled right into the frontlines again, by Tom yet again. No, it wasn't all Tom, his desire to prevent Dumbledore's ascension to fame and acclaim had been his real reason for all this. The fact it sat well with Tom's plans heralded his going along with it. The changes they wanted to make, they had to have the public believing in them, in their causes, revering them, otherwise...well, Hadrian didn't want to see the world descended into another war, which Tom would resort to if need be. He believed wholly and completely about his cause, enough that he'd go to any means necessary, thankfully though, that didn't mean making Horcruxes and splitting his wonderful mind.

"You are making me feel sick," Tom informed Hadrian as he wandered into the bedroom sounding slightly annoyed, the bond conveyed differently of course, "Do you require a calming draught?" the echoing of his anxiety through the bond was perplexing when it was mixed with his excitement, it made his stomach feel odd to say the least. He felt as though he had butterflies crawling up his throat and a sick feeling on top of it. Not a good mix when he was genuinely looking forward tonight.

Hadrian's lip curled, "No," he could control his own feelings, thank you very much, he didn't need the aid of a damn potion. He hadn't even needed one during exams or the Triwizard tournament. Although he may have taken one if anyone had thought to offer when he was eleven...and about to play his first ever Quidditch match. The feeling hadn't lasted long at all, before raw, excitement bubbled through him. He had discovered he loved flying. "I'm fine,"

Tom blinked and watched Hadrian shore himself, and the sick feeling did actually fade away through the bond. He had iron clad control over his emotions...which shouldn't be possible and he hadn't just closed off the bond since he could still feel him. Had he just reassured himself in the space of a few moments? "Fenrir is ready to go," Tom commented, deciding against bringing it up, he had a feeling Hadrian hated how he reacted to parties in general. The more he attended, the less anxious he would get over public appearances.

"He has his dress robes on?" Hadrian asked, perking up, a genuine smile crossing his features. He had bought him normal black robes instead of red ones. He had so badly wanted to buy him the red ones, Fenrir would have looked adorable in them. Unfortunately, it was a black tie event, everyone witch and wizard were to dress up to the nines. The last thing he would ever do was embarrass Fenrir, no, not on his watch.

"He does and I've already coached him on how to act," Tom replied wryly, there had been a lot of pouting over Tom's stern words too. He'd calmed somewhat when he realized it was only for when he was in public setting. That how Fenrir behaved reflected back on both of them, both he and Hadrian. That and the fact he was a werewolf, he would need to set an example for the other creatures because they were all relying on him. Both his adoptive parents and others of his kind. To show they weren't the 'creatures' they were made out to be.

They were hoping to get some of the laws changed quick enough that Fenrir might just have a normal schooling at Hogwarts. Neither were holding their breath, but they could hope. They wanted what was best for Fenrir after all, and home schooling would not let him be integrated into society and would prevent him from social interaction that's important to his upbringing.

"Alright, I guess we best get going then," Hadrian stated, straightening his attire, making sure it was perfect.

Tom as always was impeccably dressed in his black dress robes, wearing his Slytherin locket and the thick platinum wristband that Hadrian had gifted him for Yule. It had their names inscribed along with their coat of arms and was imbued with dozens of protective charms and would alert him to any attempts to give him potions or poisons. They were newer and more potent than the bonding rings they wore. On the underside was three words, just three words pietatem fidem caritatem, loyalty, love and fealty. Tom had his loyalty and love and he had with those words, formally acknowledged his loyalty to his 'Lord' as it were. Tom had strutted around like a peacock for the rest of the day, not even bothered by the lack of sleep. He had however, told Hadrian later that night that he never wanted to be his Lord, that they were equal and would both be Lord's of the faction they would build, had already begun to build. However, they both knew that Tom's decisions would be the final ones depending on whether Hadrian could talk him out of it.