Young Tomadrian (Tom x Hadrian)
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A random London street – 1935
There were two brown stones in the cobbled road.
They were slightly more rounded than their surrounding grey counterparts; misplaced slightly above the rest as if they were always meant to stand out. Although, the area was pretty mundane in itself aside from the occasional debris and littered streets.
He was in the same place.
Hadrian did not know where exactly in London this was by name, his parents—or technically their house elf, Grimeash—didn’t exactly hand him a map every time they dumped him here as punishment. No, that would be too easy wouldn’t it? What he did know is that a town was located further down the road, much more interesting than the run down little houses caging him on either side, or the piles of garbage staining an old wall yellow.
The streetlight flickered above. Faulty; it didn’t provide any solace.
He’d already covered a lot of ground so far despite the late hour thanks to his new clothes. You see, earlier, he stopped to help a boy fix his muggle toy. Hadrian wasn’t familiar with it, but observation helped him solve the issue with the work of a stray wire and the twist of a screw. He remembered the way the boy’s face lit up with joy the moment it clicked back into motion, gratitude spilling out in an accent Hadrian had grown accustomed to since he first stepped into the slums of London.
“We could use ‘ands like yours round ‘ere. Well ‘elpful,” the boy muttered in slight awe.
Hadrian watched the boy curiously. A lanky figure, shaggy hair, dirt on his hands and a fleck of dust on his cheek. He looked like the living embodiment of a cleaning broom, Hadrian thought.
“Mighty cold out ‘ere. Ain’t it cold wearing that?”
A chill brushed his bare legs. Smooth. Smaller than the lanky boy. This dress he was forced to wear followed him like a curse. The body it covered was different and not anything like the boys Hadrian had come across. A girl is all they saw, and although he did not wish to appear as one, it had been mighty helpful in seeking help in the streets of London. Mothers eager to help and cooing over him, patting him on the cheek as if they had the right. It reminded him of that one encounter he had last time he was here — a woman, no… a liar. Hadrian didn’t like her.
He survived; that’s what mattered.
“A bit,” Hadrian finally murmured, brows twitching at his meek tone.
The boy’s brown gaze flickered to a house nearby. Brown bricks like the rest with a broken shilling roof. Inside, Hadrian spotted two figures through the cracked window pointing and jabbing their fingers into one another in a rage. They looked rather silly. Hadrian figured it was the boy’s home based on the look of solemn recognition in the boy’s eyes. He fidgeted with his toy for an awkward moment, eyes darting to the window and around the street as if he were about to commit a crime.
Eventually, whatever internal war the boy was fighting seemed to reach a conclusion in the form of rustling fabric.
“This ‘ere, yeah? ‘Ave that.”
Hadrian watched as a dull blue jumper was shoved into his little hands, a tad too big for him but it was certainly warm. He held it tightly once he realised the boy had scurried off in a haphazard dash. Hadrian quickly looked around, not for the boy but for the reason he may have ran. Was it a muggle auror? An animal? Perhaps a criminal? His fears dwelled when the boy skidded out of a back alley with an old pair of shorts tinted slightly darker with long-term use.
“Bit old—” he paused, catching his breath. “—and all but don’t mind it. Me muver’ threw ‘em out this mornin’ so you can ‘ave ‘em.”
It was warm, Hadrian agreed, but not only from the clothing itself. Sure, it was odd stuffing the dress under the shorts as they puffed up slightly, but… he felt… comfortable. For the first time, he felt like him. He pulled the large jumper over his head and awkwardly looked up at the boy with his blinking brown gaze.
“Thank you,” he murmured quietly, eyes flickering down to stare at himself before his thoughts reminded him it was rude not to look others in the eye as they spoke.
“Yeah ‘course,” responded the boy with a lopsided grin. “Just look out for the flatties ‘round ‘ere. They always fink we’re up to no good.”
Muggle aurors, Hadrian mentally translated with a quiet nod.
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A main square in London – 1935
Perched upon a set of stone stairs, Hadrian watched as the remaining citizens of London headed in for the night. Those moving metal boxes—cars, Hadrian heard a muggle say—were no longer in sight. The only company he had was the faint rustle of a newspaper with the headline:
‘Aerodrome Gold Robbery: Daring Raid at London air terminal’
‘£21,000 in gold bullion stolen from vault!’
Hadrian didn’t know what that was in galleons but it must’ve been a lot to make the papers. Sounds thrilling, he thought, dead of the night and making away with something that wasn’t yours. Although, it's a bit foolish if you’re unequipped.
Hadrian watched as the wind blew it away, his small hand flying up to grasp the small cap he had snatched earlier from an old man passed out on the pavement. The man clearly wasn’t responsible enough to look after himself, let alone this hat. Hadrian would take care of it.
He paused suddenly, gaze sliding down his nose as a strand of dark hair had, annoyingly, gotten stuck on his face. A groan left him as he removed it with pursed lips, shaking his head in annoyance before setting his eyes on his soft yet dirty palms.
“Wonder what would happen if I just arrived home with shorter hair,” He murmured amusedly to himself.
“Scratch that, I already know. Punishment. Duh.”
With a slight wobble, Hadrian awkwardly pushed himself up and hopped off the steps, before flicking his arms like a raven to dislodge the dust that clung to him obsessively. He couldn’t stay out here as the moon rose, the night was full of dangers ready to strike at any moment — he knew that now.
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(I was going to write one for Tom but didn’t have the motivation)
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