"Er, professor?" Draco hesitated, being early for Potions wasn't something he made a habit of, but with the quest entrusted to him, he decided to take a new approach.

"Ah, yes, Draco, was it?" The professor asked with a smile, tinkering away at his workstation and dividing ingredients into various piles.

"I was just wondering–" Draco broke off expertly, interrupting himself smoothly, "Are we brewing an antidote today?" He blurted out the words as if he was enthralled by what the potions master was doing, which had exactly the effect he wanted.

"Why, yes!" Professor Slughorn exclaimed happily, "A Slytherin who knows his stuff."

"Unfortunately bested by a Gryffindor..." Draco said snidely, pleased at the opening the professor gave him.

"Now, now... These rivalries are pish posh... One of the most talented students I've had was a Gryffindor, and a muggle-born to boot!"

"Sounds like someone we know," Draco supplemented, "Don't get me wrong professor, if anyone were to win your contest, it would've been Granger. She's the best witch in our year." There was a hint of pride in his voice and Professor Slughorn stopped what he was doing to appraise the boy before him.

He seemed to weigh his words carefully before he finally opened his mouth again.

"The talented Gryffindor I had the pleasure of teaching also had a friend in Slytherin," he said with a sad smile.

"A Slytherin, you say?"

"Not just anyone," Professor Slughorn said mysteriously, delighting in the boy's eagerness, "Your head of house, Severus Snape."

Taken aback, Draco faltered for a split second before recomposing himself, "What? Professor Snape had a friend in Gryffindor? A mud-gle-born?" He righted himself before the derogatory term left his lips, right eyebrow raised so high that it disappeared into his blond locks that fell across his forehead.

"Yes, yes, they were my star pupils and regulars of the Slug Club. And don't act so surprised, the very founders, Salazar and Godric, were good friends when they founded this school..." The professor reminded, keen to impart some of his knowledge.

Draco was dying to know who Professor Snape had been friends with, but he had to stick with his objective so as to not lose the professor's attention. He smiled brightly while struggling to steer the conversation into the right direction, "I've heard of your parties, my father speaks highly of them. It's unfortunate you haven't resumed them..." At this point, a few other students had joined the class and Draco dropped his voice in order not to be overheard.

"No... In light of recent events, I think it best to put it on hold for now." The professor said, suddenly cold and detached.

"Well, between you and me, a few of us are having a small gathering at the Room of Requirements right before Christmas break, and you were the only professor we thought to invite." Draco said softly, adding an air of intrigue and mystery to the invitation.

"Oh, is that right? And who would be at this gathering?" The professor asked, chest puffed out as the blatant flattery went to his head.

"Only some of the brightest minds in Hogwarts," Draco said cockily.

"Curiouser and curiouser... And how might I find the Room of Requirements?... If there isn't anything needing my attention... I might..." His response was fragmented and sporadic, as if he was warring with himself. His head slightly cocked as if exercising a good amount of willpower to withstand the temptation of his own curiosity.

Draco explained how to enter the room, but insisted Professor Slughorn go with him as he wouldn't be able to find the place if he didn't know what he was looking for. Absolutely beguiled at this point, the professor agreed.

As the class filled, Draco spotted Hermione enter with Harry. He was so consumed with success that he almost rushed to tell them what he had achieved, but managed to bite his tongue, especially when Pansy took her seat next to Draco and began to whisper excitedly about the upcoming festivities, hinting heavily that she expects an invitation from Draco's own mother. Draco pretended to be enthusiastic about returning home, but it was with a heavy heart that he entertained the idea. Deep down inside, he wished that there was some way he could convince his mother that he wanted to stay at Hogwarts despite knowing that Hermione would most likely spend Christmas either with her parents or at The Burrow. The idea of it filled him with envy, but he didn't let that get to his head. He was far too inflated with his success to allow his spirits to be dampened.

When the classes ended for the day, Draco rushed to the Room of Requirements, scribbling on the fake Galleon that Hermione had given him previously.

success

One simple word. Surely she would understand that he would be waiting to celebrate his achievement. But he waited and waited, and she never showed up.

At first he lounged around, but as the day grew darker, he began working on his schoolwork, giving up completely when it became clear that she wasn't coming. Worse still, she didn't even bother to respond.

It wasn't until he found his way back to his dormitory that he realised that the final Quidditch game of the season had just taken place and Gryffindor had won. What's funny is the relief that engulfed him and not the bitterness of having been bested by their rival house. He was almost glad he knew the reason for her silence... Their house must have been celebrating and she had overlooked the message on her burning coin.

Though it didn't completely ease his mind, he could finally go to bed in peace. The next day, he went to his classes with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff before heading to the Room of Requirements during free period, hoping to see the familiar bushy head, but was only greeted by Harry.

"Where's Hermione?" The first words out of his mouth made Harry's brows furrow, but he shrugged.

"And the Weasel?" When Harry didn't immediately answer, Draco added, "I suppose it hardly matters where they are. I managed to get Professor Slughorn to agree to attending our little soiree."

"Great," Harry responded.

It was the first time the two of them were in the room alone together. They'd always had either Ron or Hermione around to alleviate the tension between them. Now that there wasn't anyone else to interject little comments here and there, it was a little awkward for the two to be in the same room.

"I've been thinking..." Harry started.

"Uh-oh, working that noodle overtime, eh, Potter?" Draco sniped in a friendly sneer.

"You fancy her, don't you?" The green in Harry's eyes were piercing, almost accusing.

"Right..." Draco said slowly, unwilling to talk about his feelings, especially not Harry Potter. He gave a little scoff and gestured with his hands meaninglessly while making towards the exit.

"Well, then, you won't mind answering me then." Harry said before Draco had the chance to open the door, "Why Hermione?"

Draco looked around the room, eyes unwilling to meet Harry's, "What? I don't fancy–" he began with disgust on his face.

"You've made it clear what you think of muggle-borns. Why else would you befriend her, if not to use her? Don't expect me to believe you've turned over a new leaf in the span of a short few months, Malfoy. You've either got an agenda or you like her, simple as that." There was a certain bite to Harry's words and Draco turned around fully to glare at him.

"What I've seen these past few years, Potter, is someone who's proven time and time again what a brilliant and capable witch she is. I might not be able to say the same for other muggle-borns, but Hermione's extraordinary." Draco retaliated, poison seeping through his veins and colouring his voice. He couldn't bite down on the venomous words escaping his mouth, "I can't help it if she finds me just as fascinating, especially considering the company she keeps, Potter."

Draco might not admit to his feelings, but what he said betrayed him. "I know her, and I know who you are." Harry said quietly and the conversation took an unexpected turn as he spoke in a firmer tone, "You're your father's son and don't think you can deny that if given the chance, you'd take the same path he did."

"I never had a choice," Draco hissed slowly. "I was a Death Eater long before the Dark Lord burned his mark onto me, but I'm making my choice now. You don't have to believe me. You're not the one I need to convince." He shut the door behind him before Harry could get another word in.

It was foolish for Draco to believe that their alliance was turning into friendship. The only person who ever made him feel like a friend had abandoned him. He glared morosely at the Galleon that she had given him and felt the urge to throw it against a wall or a tree, but couldn't quite muster the strength.

Pocketing the Galleon, he decided that he would visit her usual haunts. Harry being in the Room of Requirement meant that Hermione wasn't in the Gryffindor common room.

He decided that he was going to wander around Hogwarts, because what was the alternative? Returning to the dungeons and participating half-heartedly as Crabbe and Goyle mutter about Quidditch or grunt about their classes?

His feet brought him automatically to the library. Ducking in, he checked every table and every corner, even going so far as to creep into the restricted area in broad daylight, to no avail.

Disappointed that she wasn't there, he continued patrolling the corridors until he found himself above the Great Hall. It hadn't occurred to Draco that there was someone he had completely forgotten about. Someone who might have some valuable information for him.

When he peeked into the girl's bathroom, he was not expecting to see Myrtle floating around looking forlorn. In fact, Myrtle was the furthest thing from his mind. If he had wanted to talk to the ghost, he would have chosen a time when she was least likely to be around, so when she did eventually come back, she'd think he'd been waiting for him. But as luck would have it, she'd noticed his absence.

"I was beginning to think you've forgotten all about lil ole me," Myrtle whined, swooping down close to him.

"I've been, er, really busy, you know, NEWT year and all..." Draco said lamely.

"No, I wouldn't know," The ghost said shrilly, "I died before I could even take my OWLs."

"You're not missing much," Draco answered quickly, before she had a chance to work herself up, "I reckon it's much more fun hanging out here, with all the gossip you must hear."

For the second time that week, Draco was relying once more on his glib and thrilled him because it was something he was actually good at.

"It can't be much fun, if you haven't been to visit." She moaned.

"I've been collecting gossip of my own," he responded with a sly smile. At this, Myrtle floated down, face inches from his.

"Oh, do tell!" She said shrilly, before swooping in circles in the air.

"You can't tell anyone." Draco said sternly, which only increased Myrtle's excitement.

"Who am I going to tell? Hardly anyone comes to see me," she sniffed.

With that, Draco launched into a tale of how he managed to convince Hermione to become friends with him and eventually, Potter, to Myrtle's great delight.

"Never did I think she was that smart," she interjected. But when it came to Harry, she only had good things to say about him, claiming what great friends they were, but Draco took what she said with only a grain of salt, nodding and smirking at the right moments and adding bits of sarcastic remarks in order to butter her up.

Finally, the moment he was waiting for arrived at last, "Do you remember the young professor you asked me to keep an eye on?" Myrtle asked after a bit of particularly delicious tidbit Draco had shared about the many sordid romances of Blaise Zambini.

"What's that got to do with Blaise's latest conquest?" Draco asked, hoping to come off as flippant, while his thoughts still lingering on what he heard Blaise boasting about in the common room, and thinking about what he would have liked to be doing with Hermione instead... Harry's accusation rose to mind and it quickly snapped Draco into the present moment. He even sat a little straighter, as if he were in class and caught daydreaming, though that has never happened to him.

"I thought you might be interested. Afterall, you were the one who told me to keep an eye on her when I could have spent that time... with other things..." Myrtle said haughtily.

"Selgentar," Draco said with an unsavoury taste in his mouth, "What about her?"

"You were right to tell me to keep an eye on her... She seems suspicious." Myrtle said scandalously, drawing out the last word.

"What do you mean by suspicious?" Draco asked, gritting his teeth, willing her to divulge any information she might have at once, but knowing he needed to be patient in order to get what he wanted.

Myrtle let out a little giggle and looked at him coyly, "She kept mostly to herself, which, mightn't be suspicious, if she weren't always exploring the school grounds, poking around, as if she were looking for something..."

Draco rolled his eyes behind his lids as he shut them to muster his patience. What did it matter if a new teacher was snooping around? She told him herself that she had never been to Hogwarts, of course she would be curious, she said as much–

"... One night, I caught her in the trophy room, simply staring," Myrtle laughed mirthlessly, "One might say she had a screw loose–"

"Did you get a good look at what she was staring at?" Draco asked, a sudden chill shot like lightning up his spine.

"It was just a trophy, same as any other–"

"Show me." He said in a firm and commanding voice that Myrtle had never heard him use before. It was the voice of a boy who was used to getting his way, regardless of whim or fancy.

Seemingly unsure of herself, Myrtle frowned as if trying to make up her mind whether she liked his tone, but in the end, loneliness and a desperation for connection led her to nod her head.

"Follow me." She then disappeared up a floor, leaving Draco irritated at her lack of awareness.

"I can't travel through walls like you can," he muttered as he made his way to the trophy room.

When he arrived, Myrtle was already there, floating down aisles and cabinets of trophies, looking for the one that caught Professor Selgentar's attention. Draco made his way towards her as she stopped in front of a glass display and pointed at a trophy which was partially obscured by several others on the last shelf.

"Special Award for Services to the School... Tom Riddle?" Draco froze. Surely not. But there it was, Tom Riddle. It gave Draco such a strong sense of vertigo that he stumbled backwards. It might have been comical, if there wasn't a rush of emotions flooding through him. Here was proof that Lord Voldemort was just a boy, like him, who once walked through these halls and had a perfectly muggle name.

While it shouldn't surprise him, the effect of seeing this forgotten trophy made him drop to his knees to take a closer look.

Lord Voldemort did not just spring into existence, fully adult and fearsome... Something that took Draco a few moments to process, because much like a parent, or a distant relative, you never seem to visualise or even acknowledge the fact that they were once, just like you. Young, foolish, and obstinate.

As he gathered his thoughts, Draco opened the cabinet to fetch the trophy, trying to glean any information he could from it. Why was Professor Selgentar so invested in Lord Voldemort? Not many people knew about his time at Hogwarts, much less that his name was Tom. In fact, if Harry hadn't divulged that information, Draco would very much be in the dark about the Dark Lord's real name.

"Tom Riddle," Draco sneered and an unbidden thought laced with superiority flashed into his mind, which simultaneously scared and thrilled him. 'Muggle-filth. You're not a Gaunt, a Black, or a Malfoy. You're not one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight purebloods, you're not even one of us.'

He quenched the thought immediately, as though afraid someone might hear it. After all, aunt Bellatrix had shown him just how vulnerable thoughts were...

Draco had almost forgotten that Myrtle was still in the room with him, thinking that she might have vanished upon leading him to the trophy. But she spoke up beside him, causing him to jump.

"Did you know, she didn't leave the school immediately. She went to Professor Snape first."

Draco turned his full attention towards her, "Professor Snape, you say?"

"I don't think the professor liked her very much. He was very stern when he told her that she couldn't help her with the information that she wanted." Myrtle told Draco, who was eagerly hanging on to her every word, "He said that she didn't know what she wanted and told her never to contact him again."

"Did you hear what information she wanted?"

"No," Myrtle cackled, "But she did say that she knew he was a traitor."