Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews! This is one of those calm chapters.

CHAPTER TEN

OUT OF THE SPOTLIGHT

o

Harry stood in the center of his dorm room, fingers bunched around the silky cloth of the Invisibility Cloak.

"You're miserable, aren't you? I'm sorry." Synesis's voice drifted over from Harry's cot, and Harry turned to face it.

"It's not your fault," he said, taking a deep breath and slipping under the cloak in one fluid motion.

"It is," said Synesis. "At least Draco accepted that you need my help, even if he's still giving you the silent treatment. I wish I could talk to him."

Harry stopped at the door, about to leave. "It's my fault for not banishing Kardin. Just… just stop it, will you? You used to be the one to tell me to stop whining and moping around, and now you're the one doing it."

"So now you know how annoying it is. I learned the techniques from you, of course." There was a hint of mirth in there, somewhere, and Harry smiled as he quietly shut the door behind him.

Shadows shrouded the common room, which was deserted besides a snoring fourth year Initiate. Harry crept over to Room Seventeen, Draco's room, his heart thumping in his mouth.

Two weeks had passed since their argument, and Draco continued to ignore him, even though he'd admitted that Harry needed to summon in order to fix the Seed problem. Draco's plan to abandon summoning simply wouldn't help anything right now, and he was well aware of that fact himself.

But, in what could only be described as a temper tantrum, Draco had avoided Harry's calls on the Thread Spheres for two whole weeks, and it had taken Harry an equally long amount of time to muster up the courage to seek out Draco face-to-face. Which Harry was doing now, at two o'clock in the morning.

He's acting like a child. Harry fumed as he rapped lightly on Draco's door.

And if that wasn't enough, Draco and Theo had somehow patched up their friendship when Harry hadn't been looking, and now spent every waking moment together. A couple of the third year Initiates had been gossiping about the cozy pair earlier that week, and kept sending baleful glares at Theo's back.

Of course, as annoyed as they clearly were, none of them would dare insult Theodore Nott. At the latest Body training session, during which the Bronze Skulls had taught them how to survive an unequal duel, Theo had been called up to demonstrate, then had proceeded to wreck his three third year opponents at the same time.

I could've done it better. I survived Sebastian and Nathaniel, after all, Harry thought bitterly, knocking on the door again when no answer came, with more vigor this time. Draco was probably fast asleep. Harry would've felt bad for waking him, except he was too angry to care.

This was betrayal. Why was Draco speaking to the bastard Nott again? Had he already forgotten all of Theo's crimes, his stint with Dungeon Two on Halloween? While the older Nott brothers were bloodthirsty hyenas, Theo was a silver-toothed serpent, poisonous and cunning.

He couldn't hold a candle to his brothers' brutality, but Harry knew Theo wasn't as sane as he pretended to be. Underneath that civilized, studious exterior hid a raging, slobbering creature, Harry was certain of it. He'd seen a hint of it on Halloween last year, when Theo had kidnapped him and a few other non-Elites to "punish" them. Theo had snapped when he'd called Harry up for punishment, and in doing so, had revealed his true nature. Harry would never forget the look of black, abyssal hatred—unprovoked, to boot—Theo gave him that day.

Nott was fucking insane, and Draco was supposed to know that. Draco was supposed to hate Theo, hate him for everything he had done to hurt Harry.

Harry knocked for a third time, wondering whether to go back to his room and wake Draco up with a well-timed call on the Thread Spheres. Draco, being the brat he was, wouldn't answer, but it would yank him out of his slumber at the very least.

Draco told me a million times that he hates Theo, Harry thought, and he seemed truthful about it. Then again, Draco wasn't exactly an honest, direct person. Draco sucked up to the older Initiates like a Ministry politician sucked up to Death Eaters, but would complain about them to Harry behind their backs, call them stupid and annoying and ugly. Draco possessed two faces at all times, and though Harry had always thought Draco was being truthful with him on the topic of Theo, he wasn't sure what to think anymore.

Was Draco complaining about Harry to Theo, in the same way he had about Theo to Harry? Was he talking behind Harry's back? Why was he able to forgive Theo so easily if he couldn't forgive Harry?

Harry had been afraid to approach Draco in these few weeks because he had the horrible feeling that Draco truly hated him now. If Draco was going everywhere with Theo as if they were the best of friends again, that meant he'd forgiven that bastard for everything, and that meant that he didn't care about Harry anymore.

The door clicked open, jerking Harry out of his thoughts. Draco stood behind it, hair ruffled and eyes droopy.

"What the fuck?" Draco mumbled, squinting in the vague direction of the spot where Harry stood, invisible. After all this time, he'd learned not to question an empty space in front of him. "Do you know what time it is, Harry?"

"I have to talk to you," said Harry, his voice coming out hoarser than he'd intended.

Draco hesitated, hand hovering by the door. "Fine. Make it quick."

Harry stepped inside, steeling himself, and shed his cloak. Draco's eyes darted to his face for a moment, then back to his feet. "What do you want?"

Now that Harry was finally here, talking to Draco for the first time in ages, all the words he'd wanted to say failed him.

"I called you on the Thread Spheres. You never picked up," he managed at last.

"Now you know how I felt when you didn't talk to me all summer," Draco said, his gaze cool and level.

Harry faltered. "I… I forgave you for it, didn't I? And I did it for a good reason. You can't compare what you did to what I did. I don't have a choice, okay? I have to summon."

"So you're allowed to punish me for something I didn't have a choice in doing, but I'm not allowed to punish you?" Draco's voice was hard and sharp enough to slice granite. Harry took a step back, sweat forming on his brow.

"What do you want?" Draco asked, stepping forward to close the distance between them. "I need to go to bed."

"When are you going to talk to me again?" Harry asked. "I miss you."

It was Draco's turn to falter. A faint blush colored his cheeks. "I'm still going to help you with cleansing the Seed. I'm not going to abandon you for months like you did to me. You didn't even talk to me on my birthday in June last year."

Harry wanted to scream. Draco had betrayed him, so viciously and publicly that Harry wondered if he'd ever fully recover from it. There was no comparison.

"Shut up! You know that's not the same! I don't have a choice! I can't get rid of Synesis, and I can't get rid of Kardin, and I can't—"

"Do you have a point to make, or are you just going to yell at me all night?" Draco said, and now he stood an inch from Harry, his face bright and red, his hair sticking up in tufts.

"Yes. I have a point to make: Nott," Harry said through gritted teeth. "You hate him. And you know very well what he did to me. So, are you on his side now? Did you hate me so much that you ran off to Theodore fucking Nott the moment—"

"He knows about us. He knows we're still meeting, and that we're still friends," Draco interrupted, and Harry's mouth snapped shut. For a moment, the edges of his vision blurred, and he teetered on his feet.

"What?" Harry said, his voice distant.

"If I do something to make him angry, he might run off and tell who-knows-what about us. Right now, he's acting really mature about the whole thing, saying that he won't interfere with us anymore, but—"

"Bullshit," said Harry. Draco talked over him.

"But obviously, I can't trust him. I just need to do the best I can to make sure he doesn't go tattling like he always does. So that's why I'm spending so much time with him, not because the two of us are secretly conspiring against you or something. Anything else you want to yell at me about?"

Harry deflated. "I hate him, Draco."

"Of all the things you could've come to me about, you wake me up in the middle of night to talk about Theo? I know you hate him. But I can't go on ignoring him, not when he knows so much. This is the way it is. Live with it." Draco sounded tired.

Harry's set his jaw. "It shouldn't be."

Draco sighed again, and looked toward his bed wistfully.

Harry knew he exhausted Draco in general. Yes, Draco had done terrible things to him, but he was the only person who cared about Harry enough to save his life—not once, not twice, but countless times—and Harry still needed him, had barely gone an hour without thinking about him, even during that long, depressing summer.

Harry needed Draco much more than Draco needed him. Harry had nothing to offer right now, not when a demon Seed could blossom inside him any day, and possibly turn him into a demon.

He took a shuddering breath. "What do you want me to do to make it up to you? I can't get rid of Synesis or Kardin. We've established that. So what do I have to do to get you to talk to me again?"

Draco blinked, taken by surprise. Maybe he hadn't expected Harry to ask a question so politely, or maybe he hadn't even expected Harry to admit he'd done anything wrong enough to need forgiveness.

Not that Harry thought he deserved this much punishment for what wasn't his fault, but if Draco thought so, Harry would try to understand.

If he didn't, Draco might leave Harry forever, and Theo would retake the spot of best friend. And if that happened, then maybe Draco would turn into the heartless, evil Death Eater Harry had always feared he'd grow up into.

"You'll make it up to me when you show me that you're truly sorry for risking your life over and over again," Draco said, slowly, as if he was tasting the words on his tongue. "I'm not going to tell you how. I don't know how, really. It's up to you. Just… just leave me alone for now. Stop making so much trouble."

Harry swallowed around a lump in his throat. "Do you even want to be my friend anymore?"

He hadn't meant to say those words, not so brazenly. I'm acting like a baby, he thought, looking away so that he didn't have to meet Draco's searing gaze anymore.

"What? Why would I do all this if I didn't?" said Draco, voice surging with irritation.

Harry stared at him, blinking.

Draco huffed out an exasperated breath. "I'll tell you why one day, if you're too stupid to not already know. But right now, I need to sleep, and you need to learn a damn lesson and stop being so stupid all the time. Go away."

Harry left, hoping Draco didn't see his face crumpling before it disappeared underneath the Invisibility Cloak.

Harry rubbed a knot of pain on his forehead, leaning over his schoolwork in the Hogwarts library. He could've stayed down in the Skull dormitories, but the other Initiates gave him dirty looks and insulted him under their breaths whenever they walked past, and he preferred the cold, terrified silence of the non-Elites to the Initiates' obvious hostility.

It was just as well that he was sitting here instead; if he had to hear another one of those Death Eater babies hiss the words "dirty-blood trash" at him again, he would lose it and murder one of them, and then the Skulls would kill him—if Draco didn't kill him first, that is.

Draco.

Harry supposed he shouldn't have tried to talk to Draco in the middle of the night, when he was most likely to be at his grumpiest.

But why did he have to be so unfair, and so vague on top of it? What did he want from Harry?

Was this all some elaborate revenge for his treatment of Draco during the summer? Harry supposed that he himself hadn't given Draco clear instructions on how to regain his friendship back then, either. He'd just yelled into the Thread Sphere.

But Draco had betrayed him. Yes, he'd saved Harry's life immediately after on Beltane, and then again on the first day of school, but that didn't soothe the hurt of the earlier betrayal. And Harry had forgiven Draco for it anyway, because, deep inside, he'd understood that Draco hadn't had a choice, and wanted to move forward. So why couldn't Draco do the same?

I don't deserve this. He'd been reckless and stupid, yes, and had driven up Draco up the wall with worry, and hadn't done anything to make up for it yet, but—

"Potter. There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Harry snapped his head up. Theo loomed over his desk, eyes hooded and hand in his back pocket, where his wand probably lay.

Harry clenched his own wand. He didn't think Theo would try to make trouble in plain daylight—that wasn't this particular Nott's style—but you could never be certain about anything where this bastard was concerned. Anyway, they would have to stay relatively quiet, since Madam Pince was hovering on the other side of the library, shelving books.

"What do you want?" said Harry, hackles raised.

Theo crossed his arms, a hint of a nasty smile flitting over his face, so quickly that Harry wasn't sure whether he'd imagined it or not. "Why aren't you in the Initiate common room, Potter? Prefer to hang out with your old dirty-blood friends, or do you find it… difficult to belong with us Initiates?"

"Fuck you," Harry spat.

Theo's face was carefully blank again, but his cheek twitched. "Dirty-Bloods aren't allowed to talk back to Purebloods. It's an official rule, even though it's not reported very often when it happens. I could go to a professor right now and get him to give you a detention."

"I'd like to see you try," Harry sneered.

This time, he didn't imagine Theo's answering smile, crocodile-like. "Of course I won't do that," Theo said, tilting his head to the side, resembling a bird contemplating its insect meal. "I promised Draco that I'm trying to tolerate you, and he won't look kindly on me if I get you into the trouble you deserve. He's quite obsessed with you. I don't know why. You're a dirty-blood. And not a very good-looking one at that."

Harry gaped at him, temporarily dumbstruck. Then anger stirred beneath his skin, whirling like a storm and setting his hair on end. What the hell did Theo mean, 'not very good-looking'? Was Theo suggesting that he himself was more attractive than Harry? Or was he insinuating that Draco was too attractive for Harry? Or perhaps he meant that Draco found Theo more attractive than Harry—

"But I've decided to look past all that. Draco and I have been friends for a long, long time. Since we were six, in fact." Theo narrowed his eyes into slits, leaning forward so that his shadow covered Harry's textbook, making it impossible to read.

"I know everything about him. All the things he never tells you, I know. So he needs me, and I've decided that if he wants to keep you around as some sort of pet project, I have better things to do with my time than oversee you two."

"Like anybody believes that," Harry said, fists clenched so hard that his nails dug into the soft flesh of his palm. "You've had it out for me since day one, even back when I didn't know who you were. The moment I tell him you're threatening me, he'll see you for the conniving swine you are—"

"Using big boy words, are we now, Potter?" Theo said, slickly. "I'm not threatening you, by the way. We're having a civil talk, like civil adults. Not that you dirty-bloods know anything about civilization, but you can be taught. I doubt you will be. You Muggle-blooded creatures are ruled by your emotions, not logic. But that's neither here nor there."

Fury bubbled in Harry's throat, more than he'd ever experienced. Every time he thought that he'd reached the limit of his hatred for once, he remembered this motherfucker and how evil he was. Theodore Nott induced the sort of rage that got under your skin, crawled inside you and took root for weeks on end, the sort of rage that kept you up at night, fuming and planning revenge.

Harry remembered Theo's idea of justice very well.

"We're the ones who cleansed the filth from your family in the first place. Your disgusting mother brought Muggle culture into your home, defiled your blood and mind," Theo had told Parvati Patil before chopping her hair off in Dungeon Two, on Halloween last year. "She stole magic from a more deserving wizard, and filled your head with poison about how she was a real witch. You're the one who owes us for killing her. Now, tell me one good reason why we shouldn't find you guilty and give you the same sentence we gave your mother. Prove to us, Patil, that you're not like her."

He'd brought Harry out soon after. "I could go into your parents' misdeeds for ages, but I figure it'd be more interesting to talk about your own crimes." Theo's eyes had burned with an insane fervor back then, the same way they burned right now. "Defiling Draco, brainwashing him, making him go soft. He's not the same since you two dueled that day on the Hogwarts Express, and it's because of you. You've ruined him, made him into one of you, stolen him from me, and I swear I'll punish you for it, Potter, I swear you won't get away with this."

If Harry ever gained any power, he'd purge subhumans like Nott from society, blast them off the face of the planet. If Harry was in charge, all the purest blood and family riches in the world wouldn't save Nott from annihilation. Hell, why did he even have to wait? He could duel Nott right now, show him that no matter how pure his blood, no matter how influential his family, he was nothing compared to Harry.

But Draco, Harry remembered distantly, not realizing that he'd gotten up sometime during his enraged daze and now stood level with Theo.

If Harry made trouble again, Draco would never forgive him.

Theo chuckled, and Harry snapped out of it, though he was somehow more angry than before.

"What, are you thinking about killing me or something?" Theo said. "You think you're so tough, don't you? I bet you have so many wild fantasies about showing all us Purebloods who's boss. It's obvious from one glance at you that you don't intend to become a Death Eater, to be blessed by our Lord. Draco is delusional if he thinks you're going to fall in line and become a true Skull like him."

Harry's vision went red, and before he could open his mouth to retort, Theo went on.

Theo lowered his voice. There was a tinge of fury in it, matched only by Harry's, that hadn't been there before. "And I bet you think Draco will agree with you, too. You think you'll get Draco to support you, a half-blood, over his own people. You're so arrogant to think that you mean anything to him—"

Theo paused, out of breath, his chest rising and falling slightly. "Anyway, that's not what I'm here for. I'm here to tell you that you're a fool, and a reckless child who does stupid things, and Draco'll realize it soon enough and discard you like the rubbish you are."

"You wish," Harry hissed, the insult hitting home, cutting him deep. "You wish—"

"Don't interrupt me," Theo said, his voice laced with a cold hatred that glued Harry's mouth shut in shock. "As I was saying, he'll realize it one day. But until that day comes, I will be the better person. I will tolerate you, treat you civilly. And if you run crying to him about how I insulted and 'threatened' you today, it'll prove how much of a child you are, not me."

"Compared to you, I'm the best friend Draco's ever had, and he won't talk to you anymore if I tell him how much you're bothering me," said Harry, wondering if the same feverish look in Theo's eyes right now was mirrored in his own. "How does it feel, Nott, to lose to a 'disgusting dirty-blood'?"

Theo's superior mask cracked and fell away, and for a split second Harry saw his lip tremble, like a little baby's. Then Theo reapplied it, and painted on it was an icy, unconcerned sneer that fooled nobody.

"If he cares so much about you, then why isn't he talking to you anymore? Don't pretend I haven't noticed. I know exactly what you two are up to, and you definitely aren't meeting these days. I asked him if you two were still speaking to each other, and he admitted that you annoyed him."

Theo's words almost sent Harry staggering.

"Maybe he's getting tired of you. Maybe he's realized that you're not as smart or interesting as he thought you would be. And the more time he spends with me—because I've changed from last year, Potter, and I'll give him no more reason to hate me—the more he'll realize how useless you are, how you'll never go anywhere worth going. So, go ahead. Run off and cry to him about how I hurt your feelings today. His respect for your intelligence can't go any lower."

"Maybe I will go to him," Harry threatened, gaze defiant.

Theo regarded him coolly, undeterred. "Go ahead. Draco gets mad at me often, but he understand his duty to me. We're equals, in every way, and we'll always be together. We sit in class together, and we meet at parties during the holidays, and our fathers make us train together. One day, we'll join our Lord's inner ranks. You, on the other hand"—Theo curled his lip, and Harry wanted to punch out his teeth—"will never have as many opportunities to see him. When he loses interest in you, if he hasn't lost it already, he'll have no incentive to preserve his friendship with you. So, tread carefully, Potter, and remember what you are."

Theo shot Harry one last sneer and swept out of the library, his Hogwarts cloak billowing behind him.

Harry slowly came to the realization that he was panting like he'd sprinted across the Quidditch pitch. His fingers dug into the table where he'd put them when he'd stood up earlier.

He sat back down again, his breathing relaxing.

I could tell Draco what this bastard just did to me, Harry thought, with no small amount of glee. Here I was, sitting here minding my own business, and he comes and starts ranting at me like a madman.

According to Draco, Theo was supposed to be 'tolerating' their friendship, which clearly didn't mean ambushing Harry in the library and spewing vitriol at him for five minutes.

But Theo hadn't actually threatened him.

In fact, the most the two of them had done was trade insults. As much as the Pureblood bastard liked to claim how superior his logic was to Harry's, it seemed that he hadn't had a real reason to come to the library other than to intimidate him—not that Harry was intimidated by a smarmy prick like Nott, but that was besides the point.

Anyway, even if Harry told Draco about this minor spat, what would it change? Draco still had to pretend he liked Theo, because Theo still had the power to tattle on them. And more importantly, Harry didn't want to cry and whine and complain to Draco again. He'd done enough of that.

Draco was already disappointed and disgusted in him for being weak and stupid. If he kept going down the path he was on, how much respect would Draco have for him at the end of it? And if he succumbed to Nott's intimidation tactics in such a way, it would mean admitting that they had worked.

Harry placed his head down on his book, letting its glossy pages cool his cheeks, and brooded.

Theo had everything Harry didn't: pure blood, wealth, and influence, even among the older Initiates. And at the same time, it wasn't enough to earn Draco's favor, because Harry had it. And if Harry lost it—

That favor had every possibility of going to Theo, and when it did, Harry had the feeling he wasn't ever going to get it back.

Right now, Draco still believed in the Skulls, the Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, but it didn't have to be that way. Harry knew he could change Draco's views for the better. Every minute he spent with Draco chipped away his father's brainwashing, and Harry wouldn't ever stop dreaming of the possibility of Draco turning against the Skulls to join Harry.

On Walpurgis Night last year, Draco had chosen the Skulls over Harry, but in a different scenario, in a bright future, Draco could be convinced to choose Harry over the Skulls. He had already pretty much done so by attempting to save Harry during the first Skull meeting of the year, so it wasn't a wild fantasy.

But if Theo got his claws into Draco before Harry could make him see the truth, then—

Then perhaps Draco would one day look down at a girl like Parvati Patil in Dungeon Two and tell her that she deserved death because of her parentage, and perhaps he'd believe he was carrying out justice. Perhaps he'd even look down at Harry in the same way, see him as truly subhuman, and lose no sleep over killing him, just like his father lost no sleep over killing Muggle and Muggle-born children.

Harry clenched his eyes shut and breathed in through his nose.

I can't let that happen to my best friend. Nott is cancer, a disease, on Draco. That whole ideology is.

Draco had fainted last year a few weeks before Walpurgis Night, wracked with worry about betraying Harry. Draco had a strong sense of morality that battled constantly with the evil he saw, especially where Harry was concerned. In fact, Harry was convinced that Draco was so furious over Harry picking fights with the Skulls because he had no idea if he'd be able to side with the Skulls if they killed Harry.

But Harry knew one thing: a blood-traitor half-blood like Harry James Potter was not compatible with the Skulls, and he'd make Draco pick between him and them. One choice would lead to emotional turmoil, and the other would lead to happiness and freedom for both of them, except Draco couldn't see it yet.

I tried to make Draco pick before, and that didn't work out, thought Harry, remembering all the times Draco had exploded at him for 'whining' about the unfair system.

Maybe I should stop whining and posturing, and start acting.

Slowly, painfully, Harry began to come up with a plan.

This fight with Theo, as unpleasant as it had been, had scrubbed his head clean, swept away his self-pity, and the world seemed dazzlingly clear to him now.

Harry would keep his head down during Initiation. He'd slink back into the shadows, and make sure he didn't score too well during the Mind, Soul, and Body sessions. He'd let the other Initiates forget about him. But he'd train in secret, and one day, he'd strike.

His original plan, to rise in the Skulls' ranks by ensuring that every Skull knew his name as soon as possible, had backfired spectacularly. Maybe it was too late to change that now, but maybe it wasn't, and he'd try his hardest to show Draco how well he was falling into line. He'd survive Sebastian. He'd get through this year, and the next, and the next, but soon he'd be ready. And if he played his cards right, acted smart instead of stupid, maybe Draco would be more inclined to see sense: that the Skulls and their ideology were evil, and Harry had been right all along.

"You Muggle-blooded creatures are ruled by your emotions, not logic," Theo had said. Harry was determined to prove him wrong.

First, he owed Draco an apology for his reckless behavior—a genuine apology this time. Second, he needed to drink a glass of water to soothe his parched throat. It had taken a monumental effort to stop himself from murdering Nott today.

I deserve a medal for my civility. Then again, I guess I owe the smarmy twat for snapping me out of my misery. We'll call it even for now.

Theo hadn't been thinking straight when he'd confronted Potter in the library. He'd gone there to find an obscure Dark Arts book, had seen Potter sitting there, taking up valuable space with that useless dirty-blooded body, and proceeded to lose self-control. Despite all his blustering to Potter that Purebloods were logical, he'd been quite illogical himself that day.

He could only hope Potter's pride would prevent him from running to Draco at once; hopefully, the filthy creature had taken the bait and would keep quiet about it. Theo suspected Draco wouldn't be very happy—nor surprised—to learn that Theo wasn't keeping his promises.

Well, I may be an idiot on rare occasions, but I can rely on Potter to be a bigger idiot. He won't tattle.

Theo wiped the sweat off his forehead, recovering from a particularly intense Body session at the end of November. The Bronze Skull instructors seemed to enjoy pitting him against more and more opponents, and he had a feeling they'd ask to duel him themselves sooner or later. He was miles ahead of all of the other Initiates, his talent no doubt a testament to his natural intelligence and his father's training.

Potter stood in the training arena, facing another Initiate, wearing a bored expression that Theo didn't like. Oddly enough, Potter had just lost a duel to that Initiate, and didn't seem to care about it at all. In fact, Potter regularly lost duels to complete fools.

But unfortunately for Potter, Theo wasn't a fool, and he knew Potter was faking it. It was undeniable to anyone with half a brain that, despite being a disgusting half-breed, Potter was a talented duelist—not nearly as good as me, of course, but better than the rest of these idiots—and had no business losing as much as he was losing recently.

Theo had a feeling he knew why Potter was laying low these days. Draco's face glowed whenever Potter lost a duel, and glowed even more when Potter lost a duel to Draco himself. The two of them shared secret glances and little smiles now, and Potter would always stare at Draco in class and during Skull training sessions.

To be fair, plenty of the boys in their training section gawked at Draco like stupid gaping fish, but Potter was the stupidest fish of them all.

Theo glared at him as Potter walked out of the training arena back to the spectators. Potter did not deign to meet his eyes, preferring to stare at his own shoes. Standing in position next to Theo, Draco beamed in Potter's general direction.

Could he be any more obvious? Theo thought, rage crawling up his spine like some eight-legged creature.

The bell that signaled the end of the training session rang then, and the Initiates assembled into straight lines, waiting to be dismissed.

"Potter!" Fawley announced. "Stay behind. I wish to speak to you. The rest of you are dismissed."

Potter's eyes flickered with panic, but he recovered himself a split second later. "Yes, sir."

Theo lingered even as his peers dashed to the door, chattering about homework and the approaching holidays. Draco lingered, too, eyes on Potter, not that they ever left Potter these days.

Theo wrestled with his white-hot rage for a moment before focusing his attention on something more productive, such as listening to Potter's conversation with Fawley.

"I have a message for you from the Skull King," said Fawley with a sniff, and Theo snorted under his breath.

Draco elbowed him.

"What is it, sir?" said Potter warily.

Fawley curled his lip. "Adolphus has noticed that you are falling behind, and apparently, you are doing worse than he expected."

"Falling behind?" Potter cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean? I'm doing fine, aren't I? I'm winning a good amount of my duels."

Fawley scowled. "Adolphus seems to be under the impression that you would be doing better than you are now, given your performance against the Nott brothers, but I find myself doubtful of that. Your survival could simply be attributed to dumb luck. In any case, our dear King is concerned."

Theo held back a snicker. Fawley himself seemed to have forgotten that Potter had managed to survive the assault of three Bronze Skulls, one of which had been Fawley, before fighting Sebastian and Nathaniel. If Fawley actually believed Potter's performance in training sessions was genuine, he was too gullible to function.

Potter's eyes sparked with something, but in the next second whatever it was disappeared. He shuffled his feet and inclined his head, docile as ever.

"Sorry, sir. I guess you're right. I'm not really as good as Adolphus expected. I promise to work harder."

Was this actually Potter, or some imposter?

Fawley muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "Stupid Adolphus, making me waste my time talking to a half-blood." He waved Potter away, shaking his head. "Go on, then."

Potter, obedient as ever, pivoted on his feet and walked past Theo and Draco on his way to the door. His gaze glided over Theo as if he wasn't there, landing briefly on Draco before returning to his shoes.

Draco gave a start. "Let's go," he said to Theo, and went off.

Theo trudged after him.

"Fawley just got back to me. That boy is as braindead as ever, bless him, but no matter. It's obvious to me that our favorite dirty-blood is trying to slither out of the spotlight. In the beginning of the year, he scored top in Soul testing, but now he's somewhere near the middle, and there's no pattern to his failures and passes, like we'd see for most students who are struggling with a particular aspect of Soul training. He's failing random tests on purpose to bring down his score, and we already know how he's trying to get us to forget his dueling performance on the first day of school. What an ingenious child. Truly impressive."

"Does he think that we're idiots? Skulls don't forgive or forget, least of all dirty-bloods that have no business walking among us."

"Careful, Seb, you'll snap your wand if you hold it that tight."

"We won't let him sneak around forever. We'll have to reveal him for what he is and isolate him from the rest of the Initiates. That boy can't be allowed to go unmonitored and unpunished."

"Excellent idea. I let him join the Skulls because I wanted to see the fallout, but instead he's being boring. Spice it up a little for us, will you, Nott. Your plan?"

There was a hissed whisper, then a chuckle.

"How deliciously cruel. Very well, you have my blessing. This might be the most interesting Initiate Tournament since you yourself and your brother were in it, Nott. Let's pray the school doesn't burn down."

December and holiday season arrived in a whirlwind of snow. Herbology classes were canceled so that students didn't have to make the trek to the greenhouses, and one snowy night Harry and Draco could be found in the kitchens, picking at a massive fruitcake the house-elves had brought out for them.

Draco's cool demeanor had melted when he'd seen Harry make an actual effort to listen and keep his head down. A few weeks into Harry's act, Draco had taken pity on him and extended an offer of forgiveness. Since then, the two of them often spent time in these kitchens or in abandoned classrooms, going over the instructions for the Seed cleansing ritual with Synesis.

Draco still couldn't hear the damn demon book, but according to Harry's translations, it seemed to have Harry's best interests at heart. Draco didn't trust it—it was a demon, for Merlin's sake—but he had to admit that, because Synesis had been outside the demon world for centuries, the book was most likely innocent in the Hunger's evil plan for Harry.

Annoyingly, Harry hadn't dismissed Kardin yet, but he had a half-decent reason for this: banishing demons required reattaching their sentience, and they couldn't risk something going wrong again and Kardin possessing Harry like Auranos had.

Of course, it was possible that Harry was talking out of his arse, but if Kardin posed no immediate threat, Draco would leave it alone. There was no reason to poke a sleeping dragon in the eye.

And Harry had done so much already, from purposely failing some Soul tests—apparently, and Draco had been shocked to learn this, Harry was immune the simulations—to purposely losing duels to students he far outmatched. Draco and Harry had dueled once, and Harry hadn't put up much a fight at all.

Draco had to admit that it was flattering that he sort of had the reins to Harry's magical power; if he wanted Harry to do something, Harry would do it, and Draco relished that. He'd be lying if he said that he never had to wrestle with his jealousy towards Harry's natural magical talent.

I'm the Pureblood, aren't I? Why aren't I better than him?

But of course, Draco had known since he'd met Harry that a lot of the things Death Eaters did to discredit half-bloods stemmed from a desire to protect wizarding culture, not to tell the whole truth. It was a necessary evil, Draco realized now. Harry was definitely more powerful than most Purebloods, even after the Hunger had sucked out his magic, and it wasn't fair that he had to hide his talent so as not to attract fury and resentment. But if Purebloods admitted that half-bloods were their equals in magic and intelligence, this would embolden those half-bloods, who would in turn let Muggle culture flow in. Wizarding heritage would be ruined, and where would wizards go then? Draco understood why the Dark Lord could not allow such a thing to happen.

Harry would have to understand, too. Sometimes things weren't fair, but the two of them would get over it. Especially now that Harry had learned to keep his head down.

"I'm sorry it has to be like this," said Draco genuinely, popping a crumb of cake into his mouth.

Harry shrugged, looking sheepish. "I figured that surviving and listening to you was more important than my own pride. I already know I'm better than the rest of them. I don't really care."

"No, you care, and you're bitter about it," said Draco, scooting his chair over so that he was close enough to rest his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry let him. "And I really appreciate what you did. You're the best friend I've ever had because you're so brave, and this is the bravest thing you've done. I still can't believe you did it without me even asking you."

This was why Draco needed a friend like Harry/ Compared to Theo, who was too terrified to even say one word against the Dark Lord, even in jest—forget defending Draco from his crazy brothers—Harry was a breath of fresh air, a taste of what true loyalty felt like. Harry would do anything and everything to earn Draco's approval, even if it meant risking his own life, or his own pride.

Draco almost wanted to set Harry free, see what he could do to the Skulls' unfair system if Draco would stop holding him back.

He would die, probably, Draco reminded himself, and pushed that idea out of his head.

Draco knew now—he'd had his doubts before—that Harry would go after Sebastian if he found out about Draco's childhood. And this was why Draco wouldn't tell him.

Meanwhile, Theo had known for years and was still incapable of doing anything, but Draco was getting distracted from the point.

"Did I make up for my stupidity?" Harry asked, leaning his head on Draco's. Draco felt him grin.

Draco snorted. "Oh my god, you have no idea. You see how easy you made our lives by doing this? Thanks to homework and all this training and everything else, everyone's almost forgotten you've existed. We can take a break from all the Skull stuff and focus properly on getting that Seed out of you after holiday break. Sebastian might still be out for your blood, but he hasn't done anything yet, has he? I think we can worry about that next year, and hopefully by then all this demon stuff will be behind us and we can take it on with a clear head. In fact…"

Draco rummaged in his pockets and took out a crumpled piece of golden parchment. "I think you were excluded from the invitations, but I nicked an application for you. This is for the Skull exchange program. Did you know that you can attend a term at Durmstrang or Beauxbatons if you're a Skull, Initiate, or an Elite? Here, sign up for autumn term next year at Durmstrang, where I'm going. It'll buy us time away from Sebastian."

Harry took the parchment and stared down at it. When he looked back at Draco, his eyes shone.

"You—you—stole this form for me? Am I even allowed to go?"

Draco grinned. "Of course you are. The forms were passed out by some third year Initiates who didn't want to include you—turns out, people still know who you are and they don't like you, but it could be ten times worse if you'd been beating them in duels. Anyway, there's no rule against you going besides their pettiness."

"Do I have to know German?" Harry asked, out of nowhere, and Draco groaned.

"Merlin, no. Exchangers get to have classes in English, but the official language is German. The students speak in a ton of languages, though; Durmstrang is a pretty massive school, and people come from all over Eastern and Northern Europe. Apparently the school's in Finland or Norway or somewhere—it's a secret. I know a bit of German, by the way, so I can help you, and I suspect we'll pick more of it up when we go there."

Harry smoothed out the parchment and took out a quill. "I'll ask my mum, but I doubt she'll say no. She doesn't care much anyway."

"Good thing I care," said Draco, and Harry turned to face him, serious all of a sudden.

"Thanks for forgiving me. I mean it."

This new, mature Harry scared Draco. Maybe that Seed thing had taken over Harry's brain and changed him irrevocably.

"I had no reason to be mad at you forever. That doesn't help anything, anyway," Draco choked out.

"I mean, you had to save my life about two times in a row to get me to forgive you. And all I did to get you forgive me was—"

Draco shook his head, unable to resist the urge to interrupt. "I know you'd do the same for me, even if you never have to. You're the only person who would do that. Why wouldn't I forgive you?"

Harry gaped, and looked at Draco like he'd never seen him before. Draco's gaze darted between Harry's open mouth and his bright green eyes, trying to decide which feature captivated him more.

"Sirs! Would sirs like Tibby to set up some mistletoe decorations, to set the mood?" squeaked a blue-eyed house-elf.

Harry and Draco drew away, blushing madly.

"H-happy Christmas," Harry stammered, clearing his throat and looking away. "Early Christmas, I mean. Because break hasn't started yet."

"You'd better get me a gift this year, or I swear I'll actually stop talking to you," Draco threatened, breaking the awkward silence, and Harry threw his head back in a snort.

"You can have my slice of fruitcake. It's fucking awful."