HARRY POTTER STORY: Lions in snake den

Part 35

The night air was cool, carrying the faintest trace of garden roses drifting in from the hedgerows beyond the Malfoy patio. Hadrian leaned against the stone balustrade, his sharp green eyes fixed on the stars above. His posture was calm, but his jaw was tight, and anyone looking closely enough would have noticed the way his hands gripped the railing just a little too firmly.

The festivities behind him still hummed with life. Music, laughter, the faint clinking of crystal glasses—it was as though nothing had happened at all, as though the clash between Draco and the Parkinson–Flint pair hadn't threatened to upend the entire evening. But Hadrian couldn't stay in there. He needed a moment away, a moment to breathe.

"Always running off when the crowd gets too loud?" The voice was soft, smooth, and immediately familiar. He turned his head slightly, finding Daphne Greengrass stepping onto the patio. The lantern light caught her pale hair, turning it almost silver, and her gown shimmered faintly as she moved. She looked poised, but there was a slyness in her expression that was entirely her own.

"I wouldn't call it running off," Hadrian said with a faint smirk. "I prefer the term strategic retreat." Her lips curved into a smile as she came to stand beside him, resting her hands lightly on the railing. "Spoken like the perfect Slytherin. Though, if you're retreating, that must mean something rattled you. Not like you to leave Draco alone in there." Hadrian's smirk faltered, and for a moment he simply gazed back at the stars. "Let's just say I needed to make sure I didn't do something I'd regret. Anger isn't always the sharpest tool."
Daphne studied him quietly, noting the weight behind his words. Most of the world saw the cool, unshakable boy who carried the Potter name like a weapon—but she, and their circle, had glimpsed deeper. There was steel, yes, but there was also strain.
"I think you did exactly what was needed," she said at last, her voice low. "If you hadn't spoken up in there, the Parkinsons and Flint would've torn into Hermione until she broke. You reminded them who they were really dealing with." Hadrian chuckled softly, though it carried no humor. "I reminded them the Potters hold their leash, you mean."

"Power is power, Hadrian," she countered, her tone firm. "You have it. They needed reminding. There's no shame in using it to protect your sister." His eyes flicked toward her, sharp, measuring—and then, slowly, softened. "You always know how to put things into perspective."

She shrugged lightly, though she felt warmth at the words. "Maybe. Or maybe I just know you better than most." That caught his interest. "Do you?" Daphne didn't look away. "I think so. Ever since that train ride back at the start of fourth year, when you and Hermione joined us. Everyone else was buzzing with questions—why Slytherin, what does it mean, how would this change everything. But you... you sat there calm as anything, as though you'd been planning it for years. I thought then, this boy is dangerous. Not because of power—but because he's always two steps ahead." Hadrian arched a brow, amused.

"Dangerous? That's your first impression of me?" "Still my impression of you," she admitted smoothly, though her eyes glinted with humor. "But I've also learned you're... loyal. Fiercely so. Once you choose who to trust, you'll do anything for them."
Hadrian inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the truth of her words without denying it. "And you? What did you choose, that day?"

Daphne allowed a small pause before answering, her voice quieter now. "I chose to see what would happen if I stood beside you instead of against you." For a moment, silence stretched between them. The night felt heavier, more intimate. The memory of the Second Task flickered in both their minds—Daphne at the bottom of the lake, cold and still, waiting for someone to care enough to bring her back. And Hadrian, stepping into the Black Lake with an old, hidden magic, choosing her, saving her. The aftermath had been chaotic, yes, but Daphne hadn't hesitated. She had kissed him on the cheek in front of everyone, without thought, without calculation.
Hadrian broke the silence first, his tone even but carrying weight. "Do you ever think about that day?"