Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

I know it's been over a month since the last update but I was on holidays and didn't get the chance to write.

I haven't had the chance to read the reviews either, but I will as soon as I can and reply to them in the next chapter.

And Happy Birthday to Elelith! Hope you had a wonderful time ;)

Anyway, here's the long due chapter - Enjoy!

Part I: Chapter 36

Harry was in a very bad mood. The Yule Ball was certainly more trouble than it was worth.

He had hoped that by the time the celebration approached, he and Tom would have been able to go to the orphanage for Christmas, like last time.

However, two weeks ago he had finally received a letter from Alice. St. Jerome's children and caregivers were still in a refuge in a small country town, with no expectations of returning to London anytime soon, even though England hadn't been bombed by Germans yet, as far as muggles knew.

Alice had expressed that they were all well and that their living conditions weren't that bad. Harry hadn't believed it. How could he, when she had written to him on the margins and blank spaces of an old newspaper and with a coal stick? The fact that Alice couldn't find paper and pencil was indication enough of how dire things had to be for them.

Moreover, Yuletide at Hogwarts wasn't like in the previous year. Most students had remained at school because, after Grindelwald had openly come out as a Dark Lord, there was such fear in Wizarding England that parents felt that Hogwarts was the safest place for their children.

Even most dark pureblood children had stayed, unlike before.

"Well, there isn't going to be a Winter Season," Alphard had piped in, when he explained why the Blacks and most Slytherins were staying at school. He deeply sighed as he played with his plate of food in the kitchens. "My parents and other purebloods cannot throw parties after what happened to Leisure Alley, can they? It would look very bad." He shot Harry an apprehensive look as he lowered his voice to an uncomfortable, apologetic whisper, "They cannot let anyone suspect that they support the Dark Lord. They have to keep up appearances. So we're staying put at Hogwarts, like all the rest."

Not only that, but the Castle seemed to be infused in a fever of exalted gossip of who was going with whom, what they were going to wear, what new hairstyle or fashion was going to be displayed, which dances there were going to be, and whatnot.

Harry didn't understand it. They were in the midst of war and girls and boys were more worried about having a date, getting someone popular to hang from their arms, and having a jolly good time.

"It's because no one wants to think about war," muttered Alphard, sighing sadly when Harry had grumbled about the matter. The boy then shot him an interested look. "Who are you going to take, in the end?"

"Dunno," retorted Harry peevishly, as he savagely speared a potato with his fork.

Alphard snickered at that, already knowing about Harry's ill-fated attempts in getting a partner.

Harry had remembered Felicity's suggestion for the last Yule Ball and had had every intention to march up to Minerva McGonagall to ask the older girl to be his date. Unlucky, he had gotten wind that she had already been asked by a fourth-year Ravenclaw.

Not yet daunted and dispirited, he had then decided to resort to a good friend.

"I'm going with Algie Longbottom," Felicity had said softly, looking downcast and regretful. Two high spots of pink colored her cheeks, as she added nervously, "He asked me first… If I had known you would have…"

She trailed off as her blush intensified, shooting him a fretful and deeply apologetic and remorseful glance.

Harry sighed in disappointment as he left the Gryffindor common room, only to be halted by Felix as he was about to climb into the portrait hole.

"You're an idiot," stated the red-haired boy, huffing with annoyance. "My sister waited for days, hoping you would ask her." Felix rolled his mismatched eyes at Harry's bemused expression. "You're completely oblivious, aren't you?"

Harry frowned at him, utterly confused. He had thought the boy would rail at him for attempting to ask Felicity out. After all, he had seen Felix glaring at and warding off all the boys who had given the merest inkling of being interested in Felicity. Felix had always been very protective of his twin; Harry had had ample evidence of that in the past.

"Next year," added Felix, looking irritated, "ask her before anyone else, you dunce. I rather it's you than any other boy. I know you wouldn't dare do anything frisky with her."

And after shooting Harry a reproving, miffed glance, the ginger-haired boy had marched off, his mismatched eyes narrowing at Algie Longbottom who was approaching Felicity from across the common room looking very smug and vastly proud of himself.

"Why does everyone think I should be worrying about girls?" Harry had groused out with vexation, as he violently carded his fingers through his hair, when he vented his spleen with Alphard.

Tom had been worse than Felix Prewett, demanding to know who Harry was taking to the Yule Ball, looking angered, irritated, and impatient. Which made no sense, because Harry's scar had throbbed with pain when he had told his brother he was going to ask Felicity Prewett out, and then Tom had sneered and berated him when he had disclosed that Felicity was taken and that he didn't have anyone else.

"You are going to make me look bad if you don't have a partner," Tom had snapped, shooting him a scathing look. "Get someone worthy and learn how to dance! You will not make a fool of yourself - it would reflect badly on me and I won't have it."

Harry had shot him a dark scowl at that, because Tom had already been inviting over Olive Hornby to the Slytherin's common room, and the Ravenclaw girl had been simpering and fawning over Tom ever since, gushing about what a perfect couple they made and how everyone was going to envy them on the dance floor of the Yule Ball.

"I don't fancy anyone!" bit out Harry at his friend, before he huffed, affronted and crossed. "I have other things to think about. Who cares about dates and girls!"

"Everyone our age and older," piped in Alphard matter-of-factly, with an exasperated roll of his grey eyes. "We are thirteen. Of marriageable age, already, in the Wizarding World."

Harry cast him a disgruntled look. Tom and he would be turning thirteen soon, in New Year's, but he didn't see what that had to do with anything. He wasn't interested in girls, didn't even think about such things. Though he knew he was in the minority.

His very own roommates didn't seem to think about anything else, especially Orion Black who had become a consummate flirt with anything that moved, Neron Lestrange who smirked and leered at anything female, and Thaddeus Avery who stuttered and salivated like a Troll at anything more passable than a light post.

Abraxas Malfoy was another matter altogether. Now everyone knew that the boy was engaged to Kasimira Von Krauss, which apparently meant a great deal to their circle of purebloods since the boy's clout and prestige in Slytherin House seemed to have heightened after the news, if possible. Though Malfoy wasn't taking anyone to the Yule Ball. Apparently, per propriety rules, he couldn't and had to go alone.

Not only that, but Alphard was certainly right that thirteen marked an important age for purebloods. The other Blacks in their year were already suffering the consequences of being of legal age to be married or betrothed.

Alphard had told him that the Rosiers had approached his parents, and negotiations were well under way.

"Now that Druella's mother has baby Evan, the Rosier line is secured with a male heir," the boy had explained with a knowledgeable, worldly air about him, "but that means there's even more pressure for them to procure a good marriage for their daughter." Alphard scrunched his nose up in disgust. "Druella is very beautiful, I grant you, but she's still a selfish, spoiled hag. I do really pity my brother Cygnus." He let out an aggrieved, lamenting sigh. "Cygnus is not happy about it but he'll end up doing his duty because he's the heir. Father is very pleased with the match between our House and the Rosiers. 'Especially in times of war, allegiances with other powerful pureblood families are crucial', it's what he's always said."

And apparently, after Old Maximilian Malfoy had scorned Walburga, Alphard's parents had decided to kill two birds with one stone and secure the Black legacy by uniting the two branches of the family. It had been decided that Walburga would be engaged to Orion Black.

"But… he's your first cousin, isn't he?" Harry had choked out, thoroughly taken aback when Alphard had broken the news to him.

Alphard had blinked at him uncomprehendingly. "So?"

Harry had shaken his head and swallowed his remarks.

Though, unlike Alphard's older brother Cygnus, who seemed to take his responsibility to the family very seriously and by looking at him no one would be able to tell that the boy wasn't happy with the future bride chosen for him, Orion Black didn't seem to have any intention of changing his ways.

The handsome boy had a flock of students trailing after him and clearly took great pleasure in flirting back with them. It had led to several tumultuous scenes in the Slytherin common room, as Walburga Black shrieked like an infuriated banshee at Orion and the boy merely sneered at her and dismissively turned heel to lay his charms on thick on the nearest pretty thing.

Alphard, on the other hand, had it easy. It didn't seem the boy's parents were concerned about making a match for him, since he wasn't the heir. The boy had been simply instructed to be his cousin's –the pretty Lucretia Black's- escort for the Yule Ball.

Thus, all in all, it meant that everyone in Slytherin House had their dates and partners. All except Harry, and he had never felt so harried about the matter.

"Then I'll ask Myrtle Mimbletinion!" he bellowed, exasperated, when Tom once again badgered him about the issue.

His brother had already shot down every possible candidate that had crossed his mind, and Harry was thoroughly fed up.

"Moaning Myrtle?" hissed out Tom, his dark blue eyes flashing dangerously, his tone laced with deep disgust and contempt. "The mudblood mocked by the whole school? I think not."

"Who I take to the stupid, bloody Ball is my problem, not yours!" Harry snapped, as he slammed the door of the bathroom shut on his brother's face.

He was very late. He had spent the last hours meandering about the Castle like a lost soul, moody and disgruntled as he saw the whole school getting ready for the ball, as he dragged his feet, wishing he could just skip the whole thing.

The other Slytherin boys were already changed and dressed, with their dates awaiting in the common room, especially Tom who looked as if he had stepped out from some magazine, with his dark hair perfectly groomed and his spotless, rich formal dress robes of Monsieur Ermenegilde with white bow tie and stiff collar.

Harry, on the other hand, still had no clue what he was going to do. Though he was seriously considering the possibility of just asking Myrtle to get it over with.

He wasn't exactly looking forward to it, the girl still seemed a tad unbalanced, but he was at the end of his rope and he had seen Myrtle hanging in the corridors, at times scowling darkly at the couples passing by, other times glancing hopefully around for someone to ask her.

Sighing, Harry got undressed and sank into a bathtub filled with bubbly, purple water, tiredly closing his eyes. For a moment, he had the fleeting idea he could just soak there and pretend he had fallen asleep.

"So here you are."

Harry's eyes flew wide open and he yelped at the sight, seeing the ghost partly submerged in his water, staring at him with a scowl on her face.

He flattened himself to one side of the bathtub, frantically hoarding more bubbles with his arms to cover his parts, as his face turned red and he croaked out, flustered and disconcerted, "What are you doing here!"

The Grey Lady gave him a long, unperturbed glance. "Looking for you."

"What?" said Harry disbelievingly, to then feel a surge of anger. "I've been the one looking for you all over the castle for months! And you've been fleeing from me every time you've seen me coming!"

Undaunted, the ghost shot him a cool glance, as she said sharply, "I've changed my mind. I have realized that Santiago isn't going to make you help me until I've told you my secrets."

Harry blinked at her. "Santiago? Who the hell is Santiago?"

"Santi, boy!" snapped the Grey Lady, scowling at him. "Are you really as slow witted as you seem?" She gave him an impatient, irritated look as she floated up from the water, and added tartly, "Never mind, I know the answer already. Come, let's go."

Feeling utterly bewildered, Harry stared at her. "Go where?"

"I have something to show you," she replied shortly. "Now be quick about it."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" said Harry disconcerted, sinking deeper into the bathtub. "I'm not even dressed!"

The Grey Lady's lips twisted in a grimace as she shot the bubbles Harry was frenziedly using to cover himself a disparaging look. "I'm not interested in seeing your dangling bits, boy!"

"My what?" choked out Harry, scandalized, feeling he couldn't be getting any redder given the way he felt his cheeks blazing.

The ghost let out a scoff, leaning forward to peer down at Harry's bubbles, as she said flatly, "Nothing impressive down there. I've seen better in my day. Now that we're through with that, get up and follow me."

Beet red, Harry stared at her with mouth hanging open, not knowing if he should feel offended and outraged or just mortified and appalled.

"Very well," snapped the Grey Lady impatiently when he remained still and speechless. "Then preserve your modesty and come find me in the place we first met."

And with that, she swiftly whooshed upwards and disappeared through the ceiling of the bathroom.

Blinking, Harry finally shook his head, still feeling a mite perplexed. In the next second, he was quick to act, though. He doused himself with an Aguamenti Charm and then cast several drying spells.

He hesitated for a moment, as he glanced from his discarded Slytherin uniform to the dress robes he had laid out. He decided on the latter, to keep up appearances, and donned the garbs quickly.

It wasn't that hard to slip through the Slytherin common room unnoticed. The Yule Ball would be commencing soon and the room was filled with people and couples chattering excitedly.

He even caught sight of Tom, with Olive Hornby hanging from his arm, shooting smug looks at girls who were enviously gazing at her. Tom, for his part, didn't seem to be paying much attention to his admirers for once, since the boy was glancing around with searching, narrowed eyes and an angered expression on his face.

Quite sure he knew who Tom was looking for, Harry carefully tiptoed along the walls, ducking now and then when his brother's gaze roved over, and finally pelted out of the common room.

Now intrigued and excited by the unexpected encounter with the ghost, Harry quickly began climbing his way up.

On the ground floor, he saw plenty of students already making their way to the Great Hall, as lively music began to sound. And even though he waved at acquaintances here and there, like the Prewett twins with their dates and Dorea Black and Charlus Potter already hand-in-hand and glowing with besotted, sappy happiness, he didn't halt.

By the time he took a turn to take the moving stairs that led to the seventh floor, there was absolute silence and no one in sight.

"Are you looking for the Chamber of Secrets again?"

The lilting voice startled him so much that Harry nearly jumped in the air. His heart was thundering in his chest as he swirled around and saw Abraxas Malfoy standing a few feet away from him, in velvety pale grey dress robes that accentuated his fair features, though the boy looked distinctly ruffled, breathing hard, as if he had had quite a run.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, you scared me!" snapped Harry, before he narrowed his eyes at the boy, angered. "You've been following me! I told you not to do that!"

Recovering his breath, Abraxas Malfoy indolently leaned against a wall and drawled placidly, "Of course I followed you. I saw you in the common room, you were behaving very suspiciously."

"So what?" bit out Harry, scowling darkly. "I told you not to spy on me again."

"And I told you I would, if it pleased me," intoned Malfoy calmly. He tilted his head to a side, pinning him with his silvery eyes as he demanded, "Where are you going?"

Clenching his teeth, Harry gritted out, "It's none of your business. Scram and leave me the hell alone, Malfoy. Don't you have a ball to go to?"

Abraxas arched a pale eyebrow at him. "I have no interest in the Yule Ball, as I am without a partner." His lips quirked into a smirk, as he added loftily, "I'm much more interested in what you're up to." His eyes seemed to gleam as he said excitedly, "Have you found it yet?"

Glaring, Harry said flatly, "No. We'll tell you when I do, you already know that."

Malfoy's smirk grew larger, as he approached him in measured steps. "I do, now that you've confirmed it for me."

Harry stiffened, feeling a jolt of fury as he spat accusingly, "You did know what my brother would want from you! You said it, I heard you-"

"What I told you were mere suspicions and speculations," interjected Malfoy in a satisfied drawl. He arched a cool eyebrow at him as he added curtly, "You do realize that I will not bear witness and spread the word without asking something in return, do you not?"

"Of course," said Harry bitterly, shooting him a disgusted look before he huffed and shrugged his shoulders unconcernedly. "You'll have to settle that with my brother when the time comes."

"I certainly will," said Abraxas slowly, looking too pleased with himself. He glanced around curiously. "I expected Alphard to be with you."

Taken aback, Harry froze, staring at him, before he bit out contemptuously, "Black? Why would Black be with me?"

Abraxas shot him a patronizing, amused glance. "Come, come, there's no need to keep up pretenses between us. I've been following you. I know you meet him in the kitchens and that he's your secret little friend-"

"I haven't the foggiest what you're blabbering about," snapped Harry angrily.

Malfoy chuckled under his breath. "Even if I had not been following you, it wasn't that hard to piece together." He smirked at him. "You see, Alphard used to have a Comet 180, the same type of broom you have in your trunk, shrunken, inside a pair of socks-"

"You've gone through my things!" growled Harry furiously, his hands clenching into fists. "You had no right-"

"Of course I did," intoned Abraxas, giving him a pleasant smile. He then shook his head chidingly, as he tsked and clicked his tongue. "You really should cast stronger spells on your trunk, Riddle. But my point is that you have Alphard's broom now and his Scorcrup-"

"I don't know what Black had or didn't have," retorted Harry hotly. "My muggle parents bought my broom and Ulysses for me!"

"What muggle parents?" said Abraxas acidly, any traces of amusement or mock amiability vanishing from his face. "Let's not play games, Riddle. You're aware that I know that you and your brother are Parselmouths and Slytherin's descendants." His face contorted with disgust as he sneered disdainfully, "Actually, I even know you are lowly orphans, raised in a grimy muggle orphanage in London, at that."

Harry's green eyes narrowed to slits, as he spat poignantly, "Your dear ole grandpa told you that, did he?"

"My grandfather?" intoned Abraxas, suddenly letting out a sharp, low chuckle, before his expression turned grave. "I'm not stupid. I did not ask Grandfather about you two. I tell him nothing. I gleaned that information from Professor Slughorn, who evidently didn't know that you and your brother had been telling people that you have muggle parents."

At first feeling a frisson of annoyance at their loose-tongued Head of House, Harry then frowned, giving the boy a long, considering look, cocking his head to a side as he muttered, "You don't like your granddad much, do you?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, before he gave a frosty smile and waved a hand dismissively. "My relationship with my grandfather is of no concern of yours, Riddle. Yet."

"Yet?" echoed Harry, a hard expression on his face as he demanded, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That it will someday," drawled Malfoy pleasantly, giving him a sharped-edged smirk. "Soon, I hope." His eyes then suddenly narrowed, as he said bitingly, "Though I gather you already know a bit about me and my grandfather, do you not?" He shot him an ugly sneer. "Your little friends, the Prewetts twins, must have told you all about it, big mouthed, bloodtraitor scum that they are-"

"Don't insult them!" hissed out Harry, bristling and furious. "They're worth a dozen of you – at least they are on the right side!"

"Right side?" Abraxas stared at him, before he chuckled loudly. "Albus Dumbledore's side, you mean? And you consider that as the 'right' side, as in the side you'd want to be on?" He shook his head and tutted mockingly, looking as if he was immensely enjoying himself. "Oh, Riddle, Riddle... You have no idea what's coming to you, do you? The fact that you and your brother are orphans will only make it all the easier for them."

"Make what easier for who?" snapped Harry heatedly, glowering at the boy.

Abraxas quirked an eyebrow at him, shooting him a taunting smirk. "Well, if you're so dimwitted that you haven't figured it out already, I'm not going to bother to enlighten you. I did tell you that I would be spending my next holidays in Germany with my betrothed, did I not?"

"Right," said Harry, scowling and feeling thoroughly fed up with Malfoy's pointless mind games. "You can sod off now, Malfoy, I have things to do."

"Indeed?" said Abraxas, glancing around their surroundings with an intrigued look. "What exactly, pray tell, if you're not looking for the Chamber of Secrets?"

Glaring, Harry squared his shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not telling and I'm not moving until you're gone."

"Is that how it is?" drawled Abraxas in his lilting voice, abruptly looking amused and weirdly thrilled at the challenge, as he widely smiled at him.

Suddenly, as the boy stepped closer, something strange seemed to shift and change and Harry's green eyes widened, turning dazed as his breathing hitched.

Malfoy seemed to be glowing in a beautiful faint light, the boy's eyes looking like molten, swirling silver, mesmerizing and entrancing, his lips tilting upwards into a smug smirk that was a wonder to behold.

Harry didn't think he had ever seen someone so gorgeous and breath-taking in his life, the boy's hair looking so soft and enticing, like spun rays of sun and moonlight, golden, silver, and shiny, that he wanted to bring his hands up and card his fingers through it, to know if it felt as soft and silky as it looked. The features were a canvas of perfection of high cheeks, straight nose, and strong, sharp jawline, the skin so pale, immaculate, and smooth that he felt the urge to feel it, caress it.

The boy before him was like a wondrous, ethereal dream, so astonishingly perfect that it had to be declared, hailed, and celebrated for the magnificence that it was. Surely there were sonnets about such handsomeness. There had to be.

Harry scowled at himself, vexed. How come he didn't know any? Poems were for that, weren't they? But he didn't know any with which to impress the other boy, and he fervently didn't want to make a fool of himself.

But he had to say something to Malfoy! Something grand that would make him sound very intelligent and interesting because he needed Malfoy to keep looking at him that way, as he was now, pinning him with his gaze, widely smiling with satisfaction. He was making him happy and it had to go on!

"Tell me, Riddle," said the wonder, in that amazing, melodious tilting voice that sounded like a beautiful song, "what are you doing here? Where are you going?"

"I have to see her," breathed out Harry instantly, gazing at him dazedly, feeling amazed and ecstatic that the boy was actually speaking to him. "I've been looking for her and she came to me. Said she would talk to me. Finally!" He grinned happily at Malfoy, feeling so supremely proud of himself that he puffed his chest out, as he declared, "I'll succeed in my task!"

"A task, indeed?" the boy said softly, as his silvery eyes seemed to become even more astonishingly beautiful and mesmerizing. "What task is that?"

"To speak with the Lady!" gushed out Harry, smiling widely, feeling so deliriously and feverishly besotted by the sight before him that his knees suddenly turned weak and started to give way.

The boy swiftly caught him in time, as if he had been prepared, and if he had known beforehand, clearly because he was so amazingly smart and perfect! Indeed, the boy gently grabbed him as Harry clambered to find his balance again.

"I'm sorry!" cried out Harry, mortified and thoroughly ashamed of himself as he ducked his head and hung it low, his cheeks flushing and his eyes starting to water.

He wanted to sob because of his stupid clumsiness. The boy had to think he was a bumbling, blundering idiot!

"I'm sorry!" he repeated, distraught and wretched, peering up at the wondrous beauty that had taken him into his arms. It felt so right and amazing! The boy was hugging him!

"Hush," said the boy, giving him a soft, breathtaking smile as he patted Harry's cheek. "It's alright, Riddle… Harry… Tell me more about this 'task' you've mentioned. With which witch do you have to speak to? And why?"

The bedazzling smile grew larger, it looked warm and affectionate, and the boy knew Harry's name!

Harry beamed a joyous smile at him. Malfoy knew his name!

Something odd niggled at the back of his mind, making Harry blink in confusion. Of course Malfoy knew his name… they were housemates, and the boy had been stalking him…

Harry frowned, suddenly feeling disoriented and dizzy, and he shook his head repeatedly, like a dog shaking water from its ears. Something wasn't right…

Abruptly, he gasped as piercing pain exploded in his scar, and he clutched his forehead, moaning as he bent over, feeling sick and ill. Tom was furious, his brother had to be looking for him, and he was in…. Where was he? What was he doing?

"Harry? Riddle, look at me," said a lilting voice sharply, sounding angered.

Harry instantly snapped his head up, blinking with stupefaction as the pain in his scar was overridden by the sudden surge of sheer rage that encompassed him.

"You did something to me!" Harry choked out as he gritted his teeth and straightened up, so spitting mad that he could barely find his words. "You used your Veela allure thing on me!"

Abraxas Malfoy frowned and scowled at that, looking irritated and vastly disappointed, before he smirked widely and drawled condescendingly, "Of course I did. My abilities are getting stronger and I've been learning from books-"

"Confringo!" roared Harry, before he even knew he had ripped his wand from his pocket and cast the Blasting Curse.

With wide eyes, Malfoy ducked just in time before the spell hit the wall behind, causing a small explosion that had chunks of stone crashing to the floor.

"You're using Dark Arts, you fool!" bellowed Malfoy, looking both disbelieving and panicked, glancing around as if he expected the whole staff to suddenly appear to expel them.

But Harry was deaf to the boy's words, his own fury at what Malfoy had done to him compounded and fueled by the pain of Tom's anger at him, since giving his unrelenting, throbbing scar it was clear that Tom wasn't happy with Harry's absence from the Yule Ball. It all served to make him feel all the more infuriated.

"Sectum!" he spat as he slashed his wand in the air as he had so often practiced with his brother.

A cut ripped through Malfoy's pants and leg, causing a hallow wound to start spurting blood and the boy seemed to get the gist that Harry wasn't kidding around, quickly wielding his wand to frantically cast spells back at him.

It all seemed to merge in a blur of swift motion and beams of light. Half the time, Harry didn't know what spells were careening towards him; he reacted with the reflexes and instincts borne from his mock duels with his brother, veering, swirling around, erecting shields and flinging back curses and hexes.

Though it was quite different, because with Tom, they had always needed to restrain themselves since they couldn't end up in the Infirmary given that Miss Nightingale would ask them too many questions.

With Malfoy, Harry didn't have the constraint. He was free to harm the bastard – a bit.

"You're mad! You could've killed me!" yelled Malfoy frenziedly as he dived away from a Severing Curse.

They were both panting hard, their muscles aching, though while Malfoy's silvery eyes were wild, Harry felt exultant and giddy as he instantly took advantage of the boy's split second of a pause.

"Conjunctivitus! Expelliarmus!"

Malfoy cried out in pain as he was blasted against a wall, the boy's wand instantly flying towards Harry, which he effortlessly snatched out of mid air.

Feeling supremely triumphant and self-satisfied, Harry twirled Malfoy's wand in his hand as he watched the boy rolling on the floor, howling and shrieking at the top of his lungs as he desperately scratched at his eyes.

"The Conjunctivitis Curse isn't very pleasant, is it?" Harry asked coolly. "Very painful from what Tom and I have read." He approached the boy and caught a glimpse of the bloodshot eyes and the pus and fluids leaking from them. He grinned nastily, as he added in a lofty tone of voice, "And very ugly. You're not so incredibly handsome anymore, are you, Malfoy? Not as you made me believe when I was under your thrall."

Harry shuddered at his own words, grimacing in remembrance. He still felt horrified, extremely disquieted, awkward, and appalled by the experience. He had been utterly besotted with Malfoy, in awe of his 'beauty', hungering for it, wanting to make the boy blissfully happy, to please him in every way that Malfoy could have wanted.

Merlin, he would have even kept cheerfully answering all of Malfoy's questions if he hadn't started to gather his wits back, or perhaps even if he hadn't felt the pain of Tom's anger.

"Take it off!" choked out Malfoy in a hoarse, distressed voice, sounding agonizing and frantic as he kept pressing trembling hands against his eyes. "Please!"

Harry narrowed his eyes, before he pursed his lips and flicked his wand at the boy, lifting the curse.

Malfoy immediately released a sigh of deep relief, his body turning limp with exhaustion as he laid spread on the floor, panting hard. Though the moment he made a motion of an effort to move, Harry quickly pounced on him, sitting on Malfoy's chest as he pressed his wand into the boy's neck.

Malfoy groaned at the weight, his injured leg jerking with a spasm, though Harry paid it no mind as he poked his wand's tip harder into the boy's throat and hissed out enraged, "You listen to me, you piece of shit. What you did to me was no better than the Imperius Curse. I'm not your plaything or test subject. You'll never use your Veela allure on me again." His green eyes narrowed to slits, as he added, seething, "If you ever do, I'll beat you to a pulp and I'll break your wand in two and shove the pieces so far up your arse you won't be walking straight in years. Got it?"

Apparently, that 'lowly vulgar muggle expression' was indeed understood by Abraxas Malfoy and made an impact, since the boy's silvery eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open, speechless out of scandalized sensibilities or perhaps because the boy did understand the crux of the threat.

Alas, the shock of the words didn't last long, as Abraxas' expression turned hard, with two pink spots of relishing vindictiveness appearing on his cheeks as he sneered acidly, "You're going to get expelled for this, Riddle! You used the Dark Arts. The professors will be here in any second!"

"Is that what you think?" Harry said, as he sat back on the boy's waist, shaking his head in mock sadness. "Oh no, Malfoy. Did you believe that the wards of Hogwarts are encrypted in Ancient Runes with a long list of curses and spells the Ministry considers illegal?" He scoffed, and shot him a nasty, toothy grin. "They aren't, Malfoy, so I'm quite safe."

"What are you rambling about, Riddle!" spat Abraxas, glaring at him venomously. "Everyone knows that the wards detect the Darks Arts!"

"Well, then the general beliefs are mistaken," said Harry, widely smirking at him. "You see, I did use Dark Arts curses or borderline ones, but it's intent and consequences that the wards detect. And I didn't pour the necessary hatred into my curses or wishes of pain and death, nor did I maim you permanently-"

"You cannot know that!" snarled Abraxas, shifting under Harry's weight as if ready to buck him off, which he swiftly halted when Harry warningly poked his wand's tip's deeper agaisnt his throat. The boy glowered at him hatefully, as he spat out snidely, "Hogwarts' wards are invisible, you imbecile! You can't know if-"

"It doesn't matter how I know," interjected Harry sharply, narrowing his eyes at the boy. "The point is that I do and that I'm right."

Indeed, he hadn't spent months reading books upon books about Ancient Runes and going around the school gazing at the wards he saw for nothing. He had managed to at least understand the essentials of how they functioned.

He had still plenty of work ahead of him, but he was slowly getting better at understanding Ancient Runes and their different meanings and significance in the way they were linked or chained together when forming sets of instructions.

He shot Malfoy a stern look, as he added with finality, "The wards haven't detected our duel because I didn't gravely injure you-"

"You have!" roared Abraxas furiously with a pale, ashen face. "You have crippled me, I'm bleeding to death!"

At that, Harry shot him a baffled look.

"My leg, you fool!" spat Abraxas, to then let out a very dramatic and loud groan of what was supposedly agonizing pain, as he pointedly shifted his leg to catch Harry's attention.

Turning his head around to stare at the blood-soaked limb, Harry snorted. "You must be joking. That's only a flesh wound!" He shot the boy a disgusted look. "You're such a wimp, Malfoy."

"It's killing me!" moaned Abraxas in a high-pitch, before he pointedly dropped his playacting and hissed out viciously, "I'll go to the Infirmary and tell the halfblood how you attacked me, unprovoked, with a Slashing Curse."

Harry gave him a nonchalant glance, before he aimed his wand and cast coolly, "Episkey! Ferula!"

As he observed how the skin knitted itself back, closing the wound as bandages wrapped it and a splint secured the leg in place, Harry picked himself off Malfoy and said calmly, "Go ahead and pay a visit to Miss Nightingale. Let's see how you'll explain that I healed you." He shot the boy a look of warning. "And if any teacher comes asking questions, I'll give my own version of what happened."

Abraxas clutched his leg, glaring at the bandages and splint, before he pierced Harry with narrowed, silvery eyes, as he spat in a chilly, icy tone, "You'll pay for attacking me, Riddle!"

"I'm sure I will," said Harry undaunted, as he shrugged and tossed the boy's wand at him. "But I've given you fair warning. Don't ever use the Veela thing on me. In fact, don't mess with me again in any way."

He didn't stick around as Malfoy spat some more threats at him as the boy ungainly tried to work around the splint of his leg to get up from the floor.