The Tale of Adrien and \'Rrny

The following weeks found Harry in an almost frantic state. He had managed to get his hands onto the second Von Schwartz's book, but this tome was thicker, taller. It took him at least three days to read from cover to cover.


And read he did, twice in one sitting, then a third time, just to get the small details his knew idol carefully wove into the plot of the book. The gentle Bulgarian breeze in the woods, the shining stars into the darkness. It was easy to see for any interested reader that 'Rrny was still around 'Drien, even when the young immortal could not see him. Henry felt moved by the intrinces devotion the sire had for his child, the way 'Drien always found food and shelter, despite his youthful face and balant ignorance of the outside world.


Harry frowned when 'Drien found shelter with Madame L'Motte, the young, vivacious widow and her daughter Yazmine, because he could tell of the affection the young woman felt for the immortal. He didn't really understand why, but the sole thought of her touching the blond beauty made his skin crawl. He wasn't really sure why, though. She was a sweet girl, her eyes sparkled and her hands soothed 'Drien's wounds, yet, she wasn't 'Rny, and 'Rrny was there.


Harry knew it.


Then, others came, each with a different story, each with something to teach their new dark brother.


There was Psyche, the Greek, the one that had lived to see empires fall under the duress of time. She taught 'Drien the tenderness of the motherly affection she felt for him. Held him as the child wept for the mother he couldn't really hate.


There was Tian Bao, the one that escaped from his maddened creator, he was a melancholic man trapped in a continent so different from his own. He taught 'Drien how to be protective, how to believe in family and love beyond the passion of a lover.


Tian was Adrien's brother, his equal, his protector and protected. Harry approved of the man as he approved of Psyche.


Baldur y Bethreen were the twins, the ones that had escaped the maddened army of the devil but would never blend in the world because of their brute aspect and muscled frames beyond any human capability. Adriend loved them dearly, and wept bitterly into Tian's arms when Bethreen abandoned them to go back to hell.


Finally, the shamed Connor, the one that had, as the Countess once done, traded everything for the eternal beauty he so craved. Only to realize that his maker had turned him into a monster everyone could love but himself. In distress he had plucked his eyes out, if only to avoid his reflection.


And that was how the little band of misfits entered the world of the abyss dwellers, despite the most powerful protests and the poachers out to get their precious energy.


We settled in a secluded cottage by Madame L'Motte's townhouse. Alway making sure to travel in packs and hunt around those who actually deserved their fates. There were rules we obeyed carefully and days of fasting to remind us of our own guilt. Psyche was very self-conscious of her responsibility as our elder and mother, and would always watch over us carefully. Sometimes she would scold us, sometimes she would even punish us, but we were quite clear she was as ashamed of our wrong-doings as we were and therefore, it was her duty.


How we loved our tenderly stern Psyche.


How I miss her even to this day.


It was a morning on our seventh year that it happened. I rose with the sun as I normally did and headed towards Madame's house to help with the heavy chores that lined her farm. She was alone, and sweet Yazmine couldn't possibly handle all the work alone.


Her smile was like a thousand suns, so warm and bright, so very beautiful. It warmed my core each time she reached with her small, tender hands towards my arm to guide me, and her laughter rings in my ears still. My beautiful Yazmine, my Madonna of sin.


Harry always skipped those pages, now, as 'Drien and the young mortal Yazmine melted together in the most passionate dance of all. How he loved her, how she loved him back.


Harry could almost feel the physical pain 'Rrny must have gone through as he witnessed such act, for he was there, he knew. He would never abandon his beloved like that.

He wouldn't have done it, had he been in 'Rrny's place.


And yet, Harry thought he couldn't really blame 'Drien for his actions. Yazmine was loving and sweet and everything he thought he needed, he was but a child in a world of adults and her coy blue eyes and long blond hair most likely reminded the boy of his mother.


Yes, Adrien was just lost.


Poor thing.


He was sure Von Schwartz would take him back to his real love in the end, there was no way he wouldn't. It was obvious the author loved his characters as much as the readers did. Even if he held a strong preference for 'Rrny over 'Drien.


'Rrny bloomed under his skilled fingers, the martyr, the hero, the one that would make it all better.


While 'Drien fell over and over again. A self harming angel of death, trying to learn how to live and love without getting hurt in the process.


Because the poor little thing couldn't possibly know the outcome his little thirst with sweet Yazmine would bring. How she had begged him, after knowing of his curse, to join him in the world of the eternal. The promises of her unending love healing salve to the boy's damaged soul. The whispers of a forever full of happiness as bright as her smile.


“Do not do it, Adrien,” Psyche whispered that night, her eyes full of pity. “The human heart does not understand the extent of this curse of ours, you will destroy her.”


“I wasn't destroyed when my sire made me,” I answered, stubborn. Why couldn't she understand my loneliness? She had loved and lost for centuries and I wasn't about to do the same. She had taught me better.


“Your sire made you out of love, 'Drien, we all know that,” she replied, eyes shooting skywards. Most likely thinking of Henry. “His curse runs deeper than most of ours, for he cannot turn those he does not love.”


“Lies, over and over again, sweet mother,” I snapped, eyes narrowed. There was no possible way that the monster that had damned me was capable of love. I knew that. “And even if your words are true, I do love Yazmine, and she loves me.”


“Psyche does not doubt your love, child,” Tian said from a corner, his black eyes fixed on the fire. “But can you be completely sure about hers? The world of the abyss dwellers is quite different from the human world, as you know. Feeble feelings of infatuation die quick within our ranks.”


I shook my head, unable to believe their poisonous words.


“Lies! All of you lie!” I cried, rushing out of our house. They wouldn't understand, couldn't really grasp the depth of what my sweet songbird and I had. She was what I had always wanted and never had, we were forever.


It took me two moons to understand, of course, the warnings my beloved family had so insistently tried to plead to me with.


Yazmine, or rather, Roselinde, as she decided she should be called from now on, came quickly into the pleasures of the hunt, the feasting of fear we could almost smell on humans, and the powers that came with it. I tried to instill in her the same teachings Psyche had taught me, of respect and justice, but my words fell into deaf ears. She would sometimes theorize about our power, and the burden of the years we might travel the world.


Sometimes her eyes would glint maliciously blue and she would ask, sickeningly sweet, whether it was time the one who gave us our power. I would always answer honestly, wanting to bring my sweet flower back with my love.


She would grumble a little, her eyes set, and continue to stare outside the window.


Had my power corrupted my sweet Yazmine to the point of madness? Had I done this to her?


I question myself even to this day.


Harry had wept like a child the first time he read this, sure he understood the pain poor 'Drien was going through, it had been similar with his Ginny, how she seemed so happy at first, so sweet and sincere, and yet, being Harry Potter's wife had suddenly changed her, burdened her maybe.


She didn't feel comfortable in their small house anymore, she didn't like their usual cheap take- out, she was not happy until the best of the best was handed down to her on a silver platter.


And Harry, always simple and down to earth, was horrified.


Enough had been enough by James' thirteenth birthday, when the words: Do you know who this is? Do you realize whose child you are not allowing into your disgusting, flea infested fair-game? This is Harry Potter's son, you idiot! And you better respect that! Had been heard one too many times. Harry had narrowed his eyes, grabbed his furious wife by the arm, apologized to the poor man who was still trying to explain to the redhead that James was still too short to go onto the ride, and had apparated the whole family home.


The divorce was quick, thankfully hushed by his friends, and so had been the settlement. The children had rushed to embrace their father, begging him to let them live with him.


He had no heart to deny them.


Each year, Ginny appeared back in their lives on birthdays and special occasions, but, despite Harry's hopes, her eyes never regained her gentle light, nor did her mouth stop twisting into that horrible frown.


The girl he had fallen in love with was gone.


Corrupted beyond recognition by the power and prestige he had never wanted.


Of course, then, 'Drien's tale of love and betrayal struck such a deep core in him.


It was that night that I understood why love was so different for the eternal.

As I entered Roselinde's and my home, the stench of old blood made me halt, something was definitely wrong with the air.


Roselinde's laughter, now a dark and sinister sound, rang through the rooms with cold accuracy, warning me. It had been years since I had heard her laugh.


I followed the sound, quite unsure of what I would find, only to cry out and fall to my knees.


There was my Rosalinde, her blond hair still falling in gentle waves around her naked shoulders, her eyes still blue and beautiful shining happily.


And there was my mother, the one that had loved me despite everything, my mentor and beloved, my Psyche. Her eyes staring blankly into my own, her mouth opened lightly in a muted gasp. Her neck open and her black blood spilling into my lover's naked body, bathing her with the stench of centuries and power.


“What have you done,” I whimpered, hands straying to my face, trying to protect myself from the gruesome image that they made.


Rosalinde giggled girlishly, her hands gently caressing her own skin, drawing intricate designs into the pale canvas that was her body with my Psyche's blood.


“Oh, my Adrien, my beloved master, you must try this relish!” she squealed, standing. Ignoring the sickening crack of Psyche's dry body as it fell to the floor. “The things she has seen, the power her years have, you must definitely share this pleasure with me!”


I shook my head, horrified.


Was that the reason my love had taken my only family from me?


Power?


I felt sickened, and demonstrated so by emptying the content of my stomach on the floor, heaving, crying, unable to look up to the woman who I thought had given me all only to take away what I really needed.


I hated her.


Baldur's arms wrapped tightly around me, supporting me as only he could, when I felt my body fail me. Tian and Connor were by my side as well, eyes hard, focused on the monster I had created out of a ridiculous infatuation. I knew now why they all thought 'Rrny loved me. Maybe he really did, for the corruption this gift brought could only be harnessed by love.


And Rosalinde didn't have it.


I closed my eyes, tired and shamed, as my brothers decided to take the evil that was my love out of this plane of existence.


I heard their war cries and Rosalinde's maniacal laughter and the way she demanded I was returned to her. For she loved me as deeply as I loved her, and the meddlesome family I had crafted for myself would only get in the way.


Baldur tightened his arms around me, hiding me from her, and whispering in my ear that this was not my fault, that I couldn't possibly know this was going to happen. My sweet Baldur, always quick to forgive, quick to love.


I only opened my eyes when silence enveloped the little room.


Connor was panting, holding Rosalinde's severed head in his hands, his right eye missing as well as his ear. I winced, unable to look at her dead eyes.


“Tian Bao?” Baldur asked weakly. Connor shook his head.


“He will recover, but it will take time, thankfully his years protected him from her madness,” he explained, the head burning in his hands an iridescent blue. I will never forget that color.


Our eyes fell on Tian's mangled body, his eyes closed and black hair matted with blood. I could tell he was alive, or as alive as we all are, but his breathing was so shallow, his blood struggling feebly to return inside his pale skin.


“I will care for him, for Psyche,” I whispered, standing.


“We will go with you,” Baldur said, eyes wide.


I shook my head, shouldering Tian's body and wincing when his blood hit my face, then I enchanted Psyche's body into floating behind me. I would not leave them there.


“You cannot remain alone,” Connor said sadly. “Your heart was broken once more, without love, how will you cope with the stain of our sins?”


I smiled gently, kissing his lips and then Baldur's.


“It is not the love of others that I need right now,” I whispered. “But my own for those who loved me. I will endure this torture that is loneliness as my punishment.”


I didn't wait for their words of assurance, for I knew they would come. So deep was our love, so strong our bond.


I would live in solitude, caring for my brother, mourning the mother I learned to love, and preparing myself for the future, for eternity. There was no escape into the abyss for us damned.


And I knew that as surely as I knew that, one day, Rosalinde, the one who stole my Yazmine's sweet face, would be back.


And I had to be prepared for it.


Harry put down the book, eyes watering with emotion. It was so beautiful, this tormented child Von Schwartz had created. It was so easy for the readers to fall in love with him.


With a sigh, and now completely sure he understood every little detail there was to know about both first and second book, he picked the third, Delirium, ready to dive head first into the world of the Abyss, when his children's voices alerted him.


“Lily, for the last time, leave him alone!” Albus yelled, furious. Harry peeked into the living room to stare in shock as his daughter clung tightly to a very shocked Scorpius Malfoy's leg while her older brothers tried to bodily remove her from him.


“No! I won't let go until he promises he will go! He's perfect!!” she cried, tightening her nails on the boy's leg.


Scorpius yelped, eyes wide.


“I don't know what you are talking about! Let go of me!!” he snapped, eyes narrowed. “First you kidnap me out in broad daylight and now you harass me! My father will hear of this!”


Harry blinked, entering the room.


“What is happening here?” he asked, crossing his eyes over his chest.


James let out a relieved sigh as his father entered the room, he could make their sister see reason.


“Dad, Lily came back home dragging Malfoy by his leg and yapping something about how perfect he was, we haven't been able to make her let go!”


Albus growled, his hair into his eyes.


“Lily, this is my last warning,” he threatened. Harry sighed tiredly, not really sure he wanted to know what was happening.


“Lily, princess, what on earth is happening here and why did you kidnap Scorpius?” he asked gently, kneeling by his daughter's side. The girl looked up, her green eyes tearful.


“Daddy, you have to tell Scorpius he must go, he has to!” she sobbed, handing her father a mangled piece of newspaper.


Harry's eyes widened.


ABYSS SAGA TO THE BIG SCREEN MIGHT REMAIN AN UNFINISHED PROJECT!


The article announced.


While most of the cast for the new film based on Mr. Augustus Von Schwartz's books is already done, the studio informed that the two main character, Adrien has yet to be found. The Director, Alfredo Bavah, and his co-workers, stated that they will not film a picture with a movie star casted in the middle or with a big name to attract movie-goers, and that the film will not be made until they find the actor that really embodies the essence of the cursed protagonist and, with Mr. Von Schwartz's approval, the project has been halted until further notice.


This reporter and unashamed Abyss fan is begging all of our readers to think, to propose, to do whatever it takes until the missing Adrien is found.


Until then, we can only cross our fingers and hope.


Harry stared, wide eyed.


They were making a movie from his favorite books?


How come he hadn't realized it yet?


Of course, he had been locked in his room reading.


“See, daddy?” Lily whimpered. “Scorpius is perfect! Just perfect! He is the right age, his hair is the same color, his eyes are clear, his skin pale...”


“Potter, you are creeping me out!” Scorpius protested. “How long have you been stalking me?!?”


“He must go to the audition!” Lily continued, ignoring the blond's protests. “Or at least give me a lock of his hair so someone can polyjuice as him!!”


“Definitely no!”


“Lily!” Albus and James snapped.


Harry stared a little, trying to find a way to solve the problem. Yes, Scorpius Malfoy was indeed almost perfect for the role of Adrien, his skin was the same milky white, and his hair as platinum blond as the book described Adrien's, but his build, his hands.


He was an athlete, or so Albus and James had told him, and his body showed it. He would have to lose weight if he wanted to really become the man on the books.


Of course, such train of thoughts didn't really fix the problem at hand, namely the boy protesting and shaking his leg and his daughter firmly attached to him.


Then, Harry had an idea.


“Lily, dearest,” he said soothingly. “I understand your fear, but kidnapping Scorpius is not the way, that doesn't make you any better than Rosalinde.”


The girl raised her eyes, wide and fearful.


“It doesn't!” she protested, pouting. “I do this out of love! Mr. Von Schwartz was so kind, I need to help him make his dream come true!”


“Von Schwartz?” Scorpius asked, eyes wide. “Is this about those ridiculous books? You've got to be kidding me!”


“They are not ridiculous!!” Lily shrieked, then her eyes widened. “Wait, your eyes are blue...”


Scorpius sneered.


“Of course they are, genius, this are my mother's eyes.”


“But I thought,” she halted, color rising to her cheeks. “I saw your eyes on the shop, I know they were...”


“Silver?” Scorpius rolled his eyes.


Lily nodded.


Harry was about to ask what the whole exchange was about when the doorbell rang. He got up, opened the door and gaped stupidly as silver eyes stared boredly into his own.


Adrien Martin Girodelle was staring back at him with a raised silver eyebrow and a displeased frown on his pink mouth.


His slender body was encased from head to toe in white silk and wool, his hair groomed to perfection fell around his face, framing his amazing silver eyes so beautifully, so gently. His presence was so powerful, so overwhelming, that even if he reached to Harry's shoulder at most and his youthful face was too endearing to be threatening, Harry felt small and helpless under that stare.


Now he could easily understand what drew 'Rrny to him, what made Rosalinde lose her mind.


The young immortal opened his mouth, Harry held his breath.


“Is my son, by any chance, being held hostage in your home, Potter?” he asked with such a sweet voice, that Harry had to do a double take when the spell of their meeting fell around him, and crashed at his feet.


Draco Malfoy sighed impatiently and opened the door further with a small, slender hand, peering into the house.


“Scorpius?” he asked. The boy turned, his eyes frightened.


“Father, this girl is crazy! Help!” he cried.


Draco rolled his eyes, waving his wand lightly and not even batting an eyelash when Lily was removed from Scorpius and unceremoniously dropped onto the floor.


The blond boy ran towards his father, towering over the smaller man.


Harry and Lily stared, transfixed.


Albus gaped at his father and sister.


James sighed.


“We are sorry, Mr. Malfoy,” he said. “We will watch our nut job of a sister from now on, it's just... those stupid books.”


“Indeed, you better watch the hellion you hold for a sibling, boy, I won't be so forgiving next time,” Draco said, eyes hard. “Scorpius, let's go home.”


The boy nodded, taking his father's hand in his own and walking away with him.


Harry stood by his door, mouth hanging open.


It was almost a miracle, how come he hadn't thought about it.


Adrien, the tortured soul, cursed with eternal youth and beauty, seeking solitude and forgiveness.


And Draco Malfoy, the pureblood who was, even today, punished for the fear and mistakes of his youth, also cursed with eternal youth and the beauty of his teens. Seeking the peace only his self-exile from society could bring.


It was so easy to see him now, the same as he had looked during their sixth year, towered over by his own sixteen year old son.


“Adrien,” Harry whimpered, clenching his fists.


He had found him.


To be continued.