Antithesis

Chapter 38: Bloodbath

What horrified Adrian more in the last couple days wasn't how he fainted under the pretense of his 'Curse scar', or the fact that he had to share a tent with Twins, or even the fact that he was being dragged with the Potters to a Quidditch match.

It was that the box they were seated in, was also occupied by the Malfoy Family.

The entire Malfoy Family.

Under different circumstances, Adrian may have enjoyed how Draco's expression went through an alarming array of emotions in such a short time. It ended on gobsmacked confusion, alternating between cruel sneers directed at Adrian's company.

Remus was unsettled by the display, although he never steered Adrian away which would have only further escalated it.

"Potters," Draco's father spoke smoothly, eyes sharp as he observed the entire group, only pausing for a short while on Adrian, "How charitable to grant the Weasley's a place in such lavish decorum."

The Weasley's in question flushed, although civilly returned the jab with another clipped remark. Adrian didn't overly care to listen, nor was he interested in Draco's attempts to gain his attention. He stared blankly out of the enchanted glass.

He didn't like quidditch. He didn't like being there.

Adrian wanted to go home, he missed Lutain. He missed the strange system he had with his father...

He missed the unspoken environment that screamed mutual respect- he missed the independence and the freedom to cast spells or curses whenever he pleased. He missed knowing that any questions he had could be answered immediately, even the simplest inquiries answered with an exasperated sigh but a well instructed answer.

He missed all of it, he missed his father.

Adrian should be excited with the inevitable fruition of the plans, slowly growing closer and closer with every quidditch point scored.

His nerves twitched and sparked unsettlingly, twisting his stomach until he felt queasy. He knew what was going to happen, he knew and nobody else did.

But he missed Lutain, he missed Nagini. It was depressing to try and communicate with the mentally handicapped tattoo that only held the faintest impression of the giant snake.

As teams competed and the hours ticked on and on, he found himself contradicting his desires.

Adrian was anxious. As much as he missed his family and as dearly he wanted his companion once again, he was dearly dreading when the attack was to actually happen.

There was something comforting, about the role he had found for himself in the presence of the Werewolf. Something gentle and homely in a way nothing else was.

The sun descended, throwing long shadows on the ground. The sun glittered orange and illuminated torches as if they caged phoenixes. The stadium began to empty. The stands were a disorienting swirl of colour as hundreds of people began to leave for the Floo or Portkey stations. Others traveled still, moving to prepaid campsites where they would stay for the festivities.

The box Adrian was in rose, stretching cramped muscles and chatting excitedly about the stunts and skills they had just seen. The quidditch players had barely registered to Adrian, they were only points which marked the passage of time.