The Darkness Within: Voldemort/Hadria Potter

Drowned Sorrows

The world outside the window was cloaked in darkness, the kind that whispered of secrets and silent contemplations. Hadria's eyes fluttered open, her mind a whirlpool of exhaustion and lingering adrenaline. The battle with Voldemort had taken its toll, leaving her feeling as though she had been wrung out, both body and soul. Yet, there was a conversation that loomed over her, one of great significance that she could not delay.

She turned her head, seeking the comfort of his presence, but found only the cool, untouched expanse of the bed where Voldemort should have been. With a languid stretch that did little to dispel her weariness, she glanced at the clock. Its hands pointed just past 10 pm, the hour seemingly mocking her with its normalcy in the face of all that had transpired.

The room was a study in shadows, save for the soft glow of an oil lamp on her desk and the flickering candles that spilled their light from the bathroom. She rose, her movements slow, deliberate, as she donned a silk robe over her nightgown, the fabric whispering against her skin like a comforting caress.

Stepping out into the living room, the silence was a tangible entity, wrapping around her in the vastness of the dimly lit manor. Her gaze was drawn to the patio doors, where the faintest hint of movement beckoned. Memories surged, unbidden, of a time when those very doors had shattered under the force of their conflict. She shook her head, dispelling the ghosts of the past. That had been a different Voldemort, one ensnared by dark enchantments, not the man she knew now.

The cool night air greeted her as she stepped onto the patio, where Lucius Malfoy reclined, the epitome of leisure with his feet propped up, a glass of wine in hand, and a cigar perched between his lips. He turned towards her, his expression one of mild concern.

"Hadria, how are you feeling?" he inquired, the smoke from his cigar curling into the night.

"Tired but... I'm well enough," she replied, her voice betraying the fatigue that clung to her. "Do you know where Voldemort is? He mentioned needing to speak with you, but he hasn't returned."

Lucius's brow arched, a silent acknowledgment of the unusual nature of the situation. "I've not spoken to him since our return to the Manor, my dear. However, I did observe him heading towards the lounge earlier," he offered, his tone thoughtful.

Hadria offered a grateful smile, about to seek out Voldemort, when Lucius's voice halted her retreat.

"Hadria..." he called out, a note of hesitation in his voice that piqued her curiosity and concern. What could Lucius possibly have to say that would give him pause? She turned back to face him, her heart a flutter of anticipation for the words that would follow.

"Yes?" Hadria's voice was a soft inquiry, floating into the stillness of the night.

Lucius rose, his silhouette a stark contrast against the backdrop of the starlit sky. He stepped closer, the glow from the patio lights casting a gentle luminescence on his thoughtful expression.

"I cannot claim to fully comprehend the bond you share with Voldemort, nor the turmoil he may be enduring," Lucius began, his voice carrying the weight of empathy and understanding. "But speaking as a man deeply devoted to his wife, I can imagine that if I were ensnared by such a curse... if I had been manipulated into betraying the one I hold dear... I would feel hollow, as though I had not only failed myself but also the one I cherish most. In truth, I might even question whether I deserved her presence in my life after such a transgression."

Hadria's brow knit together, a silent testament to the gravity of his words. She pondered the implications, the depth of what he was suggesting.

"Do you believe... that's what Voldemort is feeling now?" she asked, her concern deepening, her voice barely more than a whisper carried away by the breeze.