Hadrian Potter

Little Potter

Hadrian POV

I had been walking for a while, when I heard footsteps, turning the corner I saw the cutest sight in all my life.

Little potter, walking the halls in light blue pyjamas her dark raven hair down and messy, sticking up in all different directions.

Now that I was next to her, had I only just realised how tiny this little 11 year old was. My heart pounded, an odd and bizarre notion as many times I had been told I did not have one.

"Thalia?" I spoke softly. She jumped wide-eyed, facing me.

"Hadrian," she asked, I notice tears in eyes.

"You know who I am then," I spoke quietly as I towered above her. She nodded.

"Yes, you're my big brother," she stated simply, a smile on her face while patting me on the arm, making a grin attempt to make its way on to my face. "I am indeed."

She looked at me before smiling, grabbing my hand pulling me through the castle.

"Harry, we can look around the castle," she said excitedly, it was so cute that I had the absurd need to hug her. I chuckled, I didn't expect to be this happy. I also noticed how she called me Harry, technically I was

Hadrian but I suppose she felt it was not sisterly to call me by my full name.

"Okay, you're the boss," I said seriously, she had me wrapped around her little finger already. We walked upstairs and across corridors, while she talked animatedly about anything and everything.

We eventually came to stop too what seemed to be the astronomy tower. I sat down looking at stars, she sat next to me copying my position.

"Pretty," she whispered, innocently. I looked at her and my heart melted, she really was cute as a button.

I stroked the nearly dry tears from her pink cheeks.

"Why did you cry, Piccolo?" I asked softly, she looked at me, her little forehead crinkled in confusion.

"Pic-co-lo? What is a Piccolo?" She asked grabbing my hand and holding it in two of her little ones, just holding it there in her lap.

I chuckled softly, "It means 'Little one' in Italian," I explained, she smiled at this.

Then she looked at me, "You speak Italian?" I smiled at her inquisitiveness, wrapping an arm around her pulling her close.

"I do, Piccolo," I murmured, she smiled once more, liking my name for her.

"Cool, I would like to know that stuff, who taught you?" She asked again. Normally, I hated people asking questions, but for her I would do anything it seemed.

"Someone called, Isabella." I said.

"That was nice of her, how do you know Isabella?" She asked snuggling into my chest, she was very small, so fit perfectly there. I smiled at her little response.

"It was nice. Isabella was the person who comforted me when I was ill or rocked me to sleep when I had a nightmare." I said, it was hard to think about let alone talk about.

Isabella was like my mother, she was Zin's sister and loved us with all she had, it broke me when she was gone. It was part of the reason I got so out of hand, I went back to the drugs and the drinking. Piccolo brought me out of my thoughts.

"Like a mama?" She questioned looking at me sadly. My hands stroked her cheek again, "Yes Piccolo like a mama." I replied softly, fresh tears poured down her cheeks. I looked at her confused by her sadness.