Adrian was trembling in the middle of the room, eyes wide and dilated to the point of no green. His entire body spasmed, looking to Bellatrix like one of the strange diseases people were afflicted with after the Cruciatus.
Had someone cursed Adrian in the night? Why would someone sneak in and leave him alive? Let alone in one of the training rooms.
Unless it was his father who had done it, although that felt counterproductive. Which meant the only reasonable suspect was Rowle.
"Adrian?" Bellatrix asked, walking over hurriedly through the straw and feathers. Her shoes were sticking in something congealed on the floor.
"Bella?" Adrian asked, his voice hoarse as his head wobbled unsteadily on his neck, "What are you- what are you doing here?" His teeth were tinged pinkish.
"It's noon." Bellatrix stated bluntly, cocking her head like a particularly curious owl "Where's Rowle? I'll kill him. Please?"
Adrian blinked sluggishly, as if on high strength pain potions, "Rowle? What... what did he do?"
"Didn't he curse you?" Bellatrix asked, voice trailing off awkwardly, articulating her confusion accurately.
"No- he..." Adrians eyes lit up, his pupils shrunk so amazingly quickly Bellatrix felt alarmed. A second later, his eyes were nothing but bright venomous green, a pinprick where his pupils were.
a strangely disconcerting grin spread across Adrian's normally relatively composed face, "Look- look,"
He brandished his wand, pointing it upwards and prattled out a spell so fast Bella almost couldn't understand it. Birds exploded outwards, but before she could marvel at how many there were- he had crooned out another spell that caused her to stare in surprise.
"Raptura," He hissed out, voice almost slurred and lethargic. His eyes nearly rolled up into his head as his entire body jerked at the spell, a fine tremor that was distinguishable from his constant shaking. The bright fire ribbon blasted upwards and cauterized the wings off of two birds, evaporating the blood and setting the feathers ablaze in one swift motion.
"You know the Lavcorpus curse?" Bellatrix stumbled over the name in surprise, "That's..."
Adrian shivered, entire body twitching as every nerve in his body was set ablaze.
"I know," Adrian moaned in satisfaction, "It's wonderful."
'This is bad,' Bellatrix thought distantly to herself, somewhat alarmed and somewhat proud 'This is very bad.'
Adrian was still shaking- miniscule spasms wracking along his arms and legs. His skin itched and insects crawled under his flesh.
He walked, his cloak clasp digging into the sensitive skin of his throat. He couldn't bear to wear Lutain, even his familiar's pressuring coils made his body flair in pain.
He walked with the slightest limp, his hair hanging low on his face from his earlier exertion. His complexion was pale with his exhaustion, he was almost certain he had bags under his eyes as well.
It was embarrassing to walk to his father's study in such a state, knowing that his appearance would displease him.
"Are you sure you are not sick?" Lutain pestered once more, slithering slowly over the floor next to him, his bright yellow belly almost reflecting on the polished wood flooring.
"I'm fine, Lutain." Adrian muttered back, shaking and shivering, "I overdid it."
"Spells and spells," Lutain grumbled sourly, "you should just become the noble kind already."
"Animagus transformation isn't easy," Adrian sighed once again, wincing as his joints ached in pain, "After I get Apparation down."
"You always lose your legs," Lutain sighed wistfully, "Always the legs."
Adrian rolled his eyes but didn't deny it. He paused by the main door to the study, resting one hand on the wood before closing his eyes briefly.
He pushed the large door carefully, not sure of how heavy it was. The last thing he wanted was to slam it into the wall behind.
Adrian walked inside confidently, clasping his hands behind his back to hopefully hide the shake. The study was imposing, tall piles of books and elaborate bookshelves. Glowing stones and runes encircled the walls, strange objects hung from pegs nearest the door.
His father didn't look up, writing something attentively with a black fountain pen. Nagini did, her large head lifting from the corner of the desk where his father sat.
"Hatchling!" Nagini cried instantly, dropping her head to the floor with a mighty thud, "What did you do! You have a sickness!"
Adrian's father's head snapped up at the sound, red iris' widening slightly as he took in Adrian's appearance. His eyes stared at Adrian's face, seeing something new and surprising.
"Hello," Adrian spoke, clearing his throat uncomfortably from the hoarseness of it, "I- how may I be of assistance?"
His father stared for an uncomfortably long moment. Eventually he straightened his back, placing the black fountain pen down on his desk in its respective mount. He paused, tilting his head and looking at Adrian critically.
"You've ventured into more difficult spells," his father stated ambiguously, "Quite advanced, by the look of you."
Were they? In that case, it was entirely Rowle's fault. Which may have explained why he was so pleased with teaching him spells.
Advanced dark spells.
That load of dragon dung.
"I only wanted to impress you," Adrian spoke, his voice a slightly shaky murmur, "I wanted to be helpful."
"You would be helpful once you mastered Apparation."
Adrian shrunk back with a wince.
"Of course," Voldemort paused, tapping a finger to his lips thoughtfully, "This could be a solution to our current dilemma. Your appearance."
"I look like you?" Adrian spoke, his voice raising in pitch at the end so the fact in itself sounded like a question, "Are we going to establish a glamour? You said it would impede with my magic."
"It would," His father agreed, "Fortunately, the story you told the werewolf will work in our favour."
"Bellatrix?" Adrian tilted his head curiously, "how will Bellatrix change the way I look? You ah, you didn't explain before."
Voldemort smiled with the look of Nagini staring at a hopeless rabbit. Adrian swallowed thickly.
"She's going to nearly kill you," His father replied almost gleefully, folding his fingers delicately into the posture of a politician, "and you're going to have a horrible curse-scar."
....
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