Hadrian Potter, Revenge (A Harry Potter Fanfiction)

The Start of Unwelcome Conversations

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'Every angel is terrifying.'

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Hadrian walked back inside - into the large open planned kitchen. An array of glass bottles sat on the marble island, all different in colour and all expensive. Hadrian searched through them, moving the champagne and wine out of the way in order to get the spirits.

He finally found what he was looking for, Ciroc Vodka, £500 a bottle - that would do. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and poured the clear liquid into a tall glass. It was more than a double - shit, perhaps it was more than a triple. The coke filled the glass to the top, so it was brimming and tinkering with ice. Hadrian brought it to his lips, letting the dark liquid slide down his throat - soothing his mind.

Hadrian suddenly felt a presence at his side and turned quickly. A male server, dressed in waiter wear - black waistcoat, white shirt and a black bow tie stood next to him. Hadrian realised quickly that his job was to pour the drinks for the guests or even to suggest what was best to drink. The man was in his early 30's, clean cut and smiling. Hadrian was no fool he knew that smile was an act. The man had most likely served enough privileged people to understand that a bright smile and a smart posture would tip well.

"Can I help you with anything, sir?" the man asked politely.

Hadrian wasn't surprised by his cool easy tone, it was outrageously polite. The smile was back again and Hadrian found it harder to decipher its authenticity. Hadrian sipped his drink, watching the man from the top of his chilled glass.

"No, no thank you," Hadrian said, just as politely.

Hadrian procured a blinding smile, more radiant than the server's - but just as fake. Politeness and humility radiated from him, it was like a tidal wave and the server's eyes widened in understanding. Yes, Hadrian thought - two can play at that game.

"I'm Frederic," the waiter held out his hand.

There was a look of kinship and vulnerability within the man's soft blue gaze - it pleaded at Hadrian to accept him. Hadrian looked at Frederic's hand and took a step to shake it. Yes, Hadrian thought - I like you. The man's posture seemed to relax a fraction when Hadrian accepted his hand and shook it. Frederic had rough worker hands, signalling a hard life of physical labour. If someone was looking on, they would have seen a strange combination. Hadrian dressed in his expensive summer slacks while Frederic stood in his serving attire.

"I'm Hadrian," he replied, smoothly.

A switch seemed to go off and Frederic stood dead still. The stillness along with the slight widening of his eyes was the only giveaway that he was uncomfortable. It seemed Frederic had assumed Hadrian was another guest and not the son of a noble family. Hadrian raised a hand pausing him out from his anxiousness.

"Frederic, you're the most interesting person here, I assure you," Hadrian smiled genuinely.

The man smiled now slightly appeased and no longer standing so still. He looked out across the garden, checking no one was watching. Everyone was talking and drinking, their smiles just a false as their own - the insincerity made Hadrian's throat burn.

"You've worked for my parents before?" Hadrian asked interested.

"I work at every dinner or event," Frederic replied quickly.

Hadrian thought for a moment - his heart beginning to race. He looked over at Frederic who was still waiting for a response - he stood still as stone with his hands smartly clasped behind his back. He reminded Hadrian of a statue, the historical type placed outside of museums or government buildings.