***Okay, not many people have clicked on this story, so forget the five reviews – but MAHUSIVE thanks to Moonlight Lightning, your review was incredibly helpful, thank you so so much for the feedback :) It's been taken on board and the changes have been made, thanks a lot!

So this first half is still a bit scene setting, I couldn't resist not putting Warrington in it as he was mentioned in GoF as a contender and all that, but we see some progression in the second half. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Unfortunately, I am not J.K, not making money and don't own any of the characters *cries*.

I'll shut up now.

On with the story!***

Never one to sleep in, Draco roused early and made his way through the common room.

Warrington, a seventh year, was the only other one up. "Are you entering, Warrington?" The question had a commanding tone behind it. Slytherin needed a few entries, whether or not they would be chosen, to maintain their house dignity this year.

"I... I didn't reckon-"

Draco raised an eyebrow but sat down; the combined actions pushed guilt and shame onto Warrington's shoulders without giving the impression Malfoy was above him or controlling him. An impartial judge.

The older boy changed tack "I didn't reckon it would look good for Slytherin to back out. Plus, one of my great-grandfathers was a champion." He jutted his chin forwards, carefully assessing the younger student. "I could put you're name in too, Malfoy. You bait?"

It was a dare, but Draco smirked. "If you want a second head then go for it." Incomprehension spread across Warringtons' face. "If you put two names in the cup then there's a charm that you grow another head. Too young and you get a beard. You'll see."

Warrington scowled and left to put his own name in the cup.

Draco pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote to his father. 6am, Saturday morning, every week of school. Details of what happened during the week; allegiances formed, broken or changed; results of exams, essays and other school-work. One spell he had learned off his own back. What he had learnt in school. Then an opinion somewhere within about how he hated mudbloods, or hated Dumbledore; anything which conformed to Salazar Slytherin or the Dark Lords ideals. This time, rather mildly, he noted that Durmstrang had chosen the best house to sit with, with a mocking comment on Potter and Weasley's faces when it was him who won Krum over rather than them. Told father to tip Karkaroff off about not being obvious about 'concealed matters' in front of Moody. The such like.

.*.*.*.

At lunch Draco entered the Great Hall. His eyes scanned for Krum, but could not find him. He scowled and turned back, his appetite lost.

"Draco" A deep voice purred. He spun round to see Viktor leaning against the wall behind him, concealed in their shadows. "Ve should eat some-ver else; I gave Karkaroff thee slip and he's searching vor me."

"Come here." Viktor stepped closer. He smelt musky, like woodsmoke and leather. Draco cast a Disillusionment Charm on him and then himself.

Viktor raised an eyebrow "Zat is advanced magic, you learn thees in class?"

Draco shook his head, then realised he couldn't be seen as easily. "No. I teach myself mostly or... or get some outside help. My father is... he teaches me when I'm at home, for instance." He didn't add how, or the pain involved in these lessons. He learned pretty fast now, at least. "We should go. A pair of disembodied voices... I would like to see the on a couple of first years faces at that but it might raise attention."

Viktor smiled slightly. He didn't often, but the Slytherin's humour was one he could appreciate. The familiar sarcastic, ironic or slightly twisted sense, but with actual humour rather than merely a snide comment.

"Will tha common room be busy?" He asked first.

Draco considered this for a moment. "We can find somewhere quieter if you like. Follow me... ah..." Draco stretched out an hand till he found Krum's chameleon-coloured arm. "Come on."

They saw three other Durmstrang students and Karkaroff pass in the corridors as they made their way to the concealed room. It was underground, by the dungeons, but the North Wing was rarely used and they encountered no-one in the nearby corridors. They finally reached a portrait of an old sleeping woman, from about knee to shoulder height. "Diarone" Draco said, and the woman opened her eyes, and spoke in a wavering, whisperish voice:

"You heard me before,
Yet you hear me again,
Then I die,
Till you call me again"

Draco pondered the riddle a moment. "An echo"

"And you seek?"

"The Concealed Room."

"Very well."

The portrait swung open. Draco and Viktor climbed inside. "Pirathere" Draco muttered at a torch attached to the wall – it and all the others alighted immediately – before shutting the portrait door behind him and locking it with a charm.

After all the lamps were lit, Draco sat down on one of the armchairs. This was a room only he knew of. Why he had taken Viktor here he wasn't sure – not even Crabbe or Goyle were trusted with the knowledge of its existence. He guessed he wanted to show off. Anyway, Krum was leaving at the end of the year so he couldn't follow him back there for too long.

"Who else comes here other than you?"

"You."

There was a pause. Krum settled himself down on a sofa opposite Draco and looked at him. In fact, it felt more as if he looked into him, through those deep brown eyes with unfathomable depths and into the stormy grey ones.

"You trust me?" Krum inquired, his voice deep and low. Draco shifted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Before he could spin an ice cold reason, Krum's face broke into a smile. "I am glad to have you're trust, Draco Malfoy. It is nice."

"It's my honour."

Krum lounged back against the sofa, and fixed him with a relaxed gaze, his head tilted to the side. "You are kind to me, Draco, you make me laugh."

Slightly taken aback by Krum's forwardness, a pink tinge made it's way up Draco's neck. "It's nice to talk to some-one more mature than Crabbe and Goyle. It's nice to... to be able to place my trust in..."

"In a friend?"

It didn't sound like a chess move. It didn't sound like an offer of allegiance, motivated by cold hard logic. It sounded... like friendship. Draco sat up, a slow smile crept onto his face. It wasn't smug. It wasn't malicious glee.

It was happiness. How odd.

"In a friend," he repeated.

.

They talked for awhile, exchanging stories, school and castle secrets, heritage and inheritance. It was pleasant to discuss pure-blood issues with some-one who wasn't immediately effective in them or was going to pass on information. Interesting, too, to hear of the differences between cultures – vices of arranged marriage, name-taking, bloodline inheritance and the raising and creating of an heir.

Draco complained in depth of the injustice of having to marry Pansy Parkinson; with her being the furthest related, most pure-blooded witch in his decade.

"Why not Zanibi? He must be more distant and yet eez family tree eez older zan mine?"

Draco almost choked on his drink at that point "Zanibi!? Viktor he's a boy!!"

Krum shrugged. "Well if you are not ento zat type zen..." He trailed off in an off-handish matter, inspecting his Elfen wine

Draco cleared his throat a little, blushing. How undignified. "Viktor – that would be illegal." He said quietly. "Of course... of course I wouldn't pair up with Zanibi. I'd be disowned."

There was a long pause. "Ah."

***Although I love the idea of their wizarding culture being open and accepting to gay and bisexual people, it's really old-fashioned and prejudiced, so I don't think they would be. Ah well, what did you think of this chapter? Anything you liked, disliked or would change? Reviews are really, really appreciated (I smile like an idiot whenever I get one. Seriously.) Thanks for reading, stay tuned! :) ***