"Draco," The boy was startled awake in his common room by a hand on his shoulder – a soft touch withdrawn as quickly as it appeared. Draco looked up to see Pansy peering at him, "Here's a wakeful potion."

He took the potion from her and drank deeply before gesturing for her to sit.

"You've not been yourself," She asked candidly, taking the seat next to his. The blond boy held his tongue and simply swirled the potion around while looking into the fire.

"Is it... hard? The task that the Dark Lord has set for you?" Pansy asked, meeting the burning glare of the fireplace with the same stubborn set of the mouth.

He nodded slowly at that, "It is." The words came curtly.

"You know, I could help."

A corner of Draco's mouth turned up in a dubious smirk, but he nodded. "I know you would, Pansy. But this is nothing you can help me with." He said darkly before finishing the potion and getting up.

"You can always count on me," A whine was beginning to enter her voice.

"I have no doubt of that." He assured, setting down the empty vial. "Thanks."

She frowned at his sudden decorum. When had they become so unfamiliar with one another? Draco doesn't thank people. He expects to be treated a certain way and takes things for granted, which was one of his many qualities that Pansy found charming. She watched as he made his way towards the dungeon doors, trying to pinpoint what was different about him that made him more intriguing than he already was.

Draco had always been aloof, but he wasn't one to shut himself away – he enjoyed being the centre of attention. There was nothing he liked more than drawing the eye of the crowd. However, he seemed to have retreated inwardly leaving a quieter version of himself. He isn't necessarily colder... But it made him older, somehow.

It was as though he had left behind boyish desires, including her, and Pansy couldn't help feeling as though something precious had been stolen. For a fleeting moment, she was resentful at the Dark Lord for forcing Draco to grow up so quickly, but that resentment quickly turned to pride. The Dark Lord favours Draco, and that's all that mattered... For there was nobody more suited for Draco than she.

"Report." Selgentar said while marking parchments.

"They've begun to suspect me," Draco said stoically.

The professor raised an eyebrow and drew up to look at the student in front of her. Dressed impeccably with his back as straight as a board – a sign of someone both well-off and well-bred.

"How so?"

"I press them for information far too frequently, without giving any in return. It's natural to be curious," He said with narrowed eyes.

"Naturally, naturally," She mumbled, "Make something up, can't you? Aren't you a cunning Slytherin?"

"Hermione is extremely bright, and she wouldn't not fall for any tricks–" The moment her name left his lips, he knew he had made a mistake.

"Are you suggesting that this mudblood is smarter than a servant of the Dark Lord?" She asked coldly.

"No, I'm merely saying that we should proceed cautiously..." He grasped at straws, "We don't want this opportunity to turn into a disadvantage."

Selgentar nodded, "If I didn't know any better, it sounds as though you hold the mudblood in high regard."

"Never." Draco said through gritted teeth.

"Regardless, it seems to me like your plans are falling apart. Did you not lose the cursed necklace you ensured would complete the task for you?"

"I... did. But I have a better idea. A fool-proof one, at that."

"Let us hope it truly is as you say."

The next day in class, he enchanted a piece of parchment to say 'mudblood filth' to anyone who wasn't of muggle descent and flew it to Hermione, with a nasty grin on his face. Pansy looked immensely proud at his wit, comforted by the thought that beneath his new calm exterior, the Draco she knew was hiding right under the surface.

see you before?

"Incendio." Hermione whispered, and the parchment withered away in the air, making Pansy howl with mirth. What she didn't see was the small smile curled in the corner of Hermione's mouth.

She made it a point to tell Harry and Ron that she'll be at their "new spot" and that they should join her when they are done with Quidditch practice.

The moment she arrived at the Room of Requirements, she saw him by the bay window, seemingly engrossed in the book he was holding up but she could see the smile that lit his face up.

"Go on then, what's so amusing?" Hermione asked as she climbed up the ledge to join him.

At this silence, she prompted, "Pansy seemed thrilled that you sent me a note."

"What she saw wasn't exactly flattering," Draco agreed, putting down his book, which Hermione picked up to examine.

"I wonder what it could have been... Let me guess," Her eyes scanned the page, and found that what he was reading was incredibly dull and wouldn't have warranted the kind of smile he was sporting when she spotted him. "Mudblood?"

"Close," he answered, "I made sure to mention what I felt about the conditions of house elves."

"Heart breaking? Pitiful?"

Draco simply allowed himself to smile as he leaned forward, "Filthy, because they all look like they could use a bath."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, carefully placing the book down where she picked it up. She smiled sweetly but Draco noted the evil gleam in her eyes, "If only their masters would give them more than rags– Oh, but that would mean they'd no longer be enslaved. Pity."

Draco leaned back against the frame of the daybed, enjoying her presence. Reminiscing their careful beginnings, how they walked on eggshells only to discover they were cotton, comfortable and warm. It was so easy to fall into a friendship with the Granger girl, it would have been unnerving if it didn't feel so right.

It wasn't long after that Ron and Harry found them working at the table. It always took Ron a moment to process what he saw. Draco was poring over a textbook, quill in hand. He actually peered over Hermione's head to look at her notes and looked back at the textbook. Ron continued to watch as he muttered something at her and she, in turn, flipped the pages of the book and pointed at a paragraph, answering, "There, see? It's not how the stars align that affects the potion, it is how Mercury is shining..."

"... exactly what it means..."

"... read it again!"

Their words seemed to crest and fall like the waves of the ocean, washing over him... He stood transfixed until Harry thumped his bag on the table and said, "No, she's right. She went through it last night with us, right, Ron?"

Snapping out of the surreality of it all, Ron nodded, "Right."

Draco shrugged, "I am not going to let two halfwits determine my grade for the year." He continued mumbling incoherently (but Ron heard something which sounded like "can never trust" and "think for myself") as Draco referred to his notes and when satisfied, made himself comfortable and began crossing out his work inconspicuously.

"When did you two get in?" Ron asked suspiciously as he pulled out his own homework.

"Before you, obviously." Draco replied without missing a beat.

"Obviously no better place to go," Ron muttered, "Or simply unwelcomed anywhere else."

"Why, thank you for welcoming me, then."

"Hush, you two."

"Trying to work here."

Left with silence, Ron found himself adapting to the situation and began feeling comfortable, as though they have always worked with a Slytherin amongst their midst.

By the time they've put away their books, Hermione's already gone off to one of her many classes, leaving the three boys to enjoy more snacks from the kitchen.

"Er, so, any word on the professor?" Ron asked while biting into a still steaming goose liver pie. "Is she still suspicious or anything?"

Draco inspected the pie sceptically and gave it a pass, opting for a glazed meringue tart instead. "If only she were as daft and clueless as you are, I'm sure she wouldn't be suspicious at all."

Harry was listening in and with a small stroke of inspiration, said, "You can drop the name Professor Slughorn in your next meeting with Professor Selgentar, I'm sure that would shake things up a bit."

The headmaster had been secretly taking Harry on excursions with him to visit places of Voldemort's childhood, including visiting Dumbledore's old friend, someone who once taught the dark wizard – prized him, even.

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" Draco stopped eating and glanced at Harry, who was still doing some homework.

"He was a professor at Hogwarts and he used to teach Voldemort."

"Don't say that name!" Draco snapped, ignoring Ron's sudden jerk.

"Why not?" Harry challenged.

"It sets me on edge, alright?!"

"That's because you've been around Voldemort worshippers–" Harry broke off at the intense glare coming from Draco "–well we need to call him something!" He said defensively, "And I'm not about to Dark Lord this and Dark Lord that and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a mouthful."

"We could call him Voldy." Ron injected helpfully. "Moldy Voldy."

The look on Draco's face was in parts thunderous and horrified.

"I will not call him Voldy." Harry said with a note of finality, much to the relief of the frozen blond boy, "He has a name and I will use it: Tom. Anyway, Professor Slughorn used to favour Tom very much. He collected students like trophies and even hosted dinners for them."

The moment Harry and Ron left the Room of Requirement, Ron pounced on the opportunity and demanded, "What are you thinking? Why are you telling him more than he needs to know? I thought Dumbledore–"

"Dumbledore trusts me." Harry said snappishly, "And we should trust our friends." Harry meant it in a way that Ron didn't trust Harry's judgement, but Ron took it to mean that Harry had finally come under Draco's spell and considered the Slytherin one of their own.