The Hogwarts library was an endless source of knowledge but he only needed one book– Hogwarts: A History. Skimming the pages, he searched for Rowena Ravenclaw. She'd be in here somewhere, it was her diadem after all and she was one of the founding...

The Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw.

There it was… a hand-drawn sketch of it, next to a short passage.

Looking out for Madam Pince, he ripped the page from the book, closed it shut and slid it back onto the shelf. Checking the time, he considered whether or not to go straight to the Room of Hidden Things and then decided it was too risky. He waited for what seemed like forever and finally made his way under the cover of night and a disillusionment charm.

Taking the page from his pocket he unfolded it and held it against the Diadem.

It was an exact match.

He couldn't believe his luck. He'd found it!

The Diadem was supposed to bestow wisdom on anyone who wore it. He wondered if it would help his chances at repairing the Vanishing Cabinet. He held it in his hands, inspecting it. Draco couldn't fathom how wearing a tiara on his head would bestow wisdom of any kind, the most it'd do was make him look like a right tosser. He realized one thing though; for something so delicate it felt… heavy. He put it down overcome with an eerie foreboding. His eyes studied the large gemstone at its center and the longer he stared at it, the more it seemed like something was looking back.

Draco gulped his Adam's apple bobbing. He'd been around enough dark objects to sense dark magic when he was near it, and this thing might have once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, but it was something else now.

The huge room suddenly seemed frightening. Draco turned his neck so fast it cricked. He thought he'd heard something. Then without understanding why he practically ran out, straight back to the dungeons. His heart had been thudding so loudly that when he finally reached the common room he was shaking.

It was still quite early so he wasn't surprised to find a few Slytherins still up whiling away. Pansy was lounging on the sofa flipping through one of those gossip magazines while Blaise and Theo were playing chess. They were the first to notice him. Draco and Theo both avoided each other's gaze and he fell down on a vacant armchair opposite Pansy, who gave him a small smile.

Once he sat down and allowed his heart rate to slow, he felt like an absolute git for getting spooked like that. It was just a crown, what could it possibly do to him? Just then Tracey walked out of the dormitory with Astoria and Daphne. Upon seeing him, a smile played on her lips. She whispered something to the Greengrass sisters and left them to sit next to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Pansy raise an eyebrow. He pretended not to have seen and continued talking to Tracey.

"So what are you doing this weekend?" she asked.

He gave a casual shrug. "Nothing special I suppose."

He watched as her face lit up. "I might go to Hogsmeade," she commented.

"Draco goes there all the time," said Pansy abruptly. His eyes snapped to hers. Just what did she think she was doing… Pansy tilted her head subtly toward Tracey, her eyes widening suggestively.

"I do," he said matter-of-factly. Because I have Madam Rosmerta under an Imperius curse. "If you like," he said clearing his throat. "I could meet you there and we could do something."

Wearing a shy smile, she asked a little quietly, "Are you asking me out on a date Draco Malfoy?"

"I am," he replied confidently.

She bit her lip. "Okay, then it's a date."

They made plans and a few minutes later she said goodnight. He waited for her to be out of eyesight before turning to Pansy, who was pretending to be the least bit interested.

"Happy now?" he snapped.

She rolled her eyes and muttered something about knowing what was best for him. He scoffed but didn't necessarily disagree. His ideas were always bad ideas.

That night Draco had trouble sleeping. He tossed and turned, trying to shake off the fear he'd felt earlier. It was the Diadem. There was something wrong with it and he was going to find out just what. He hoped the answers lay somewhere in one of the books at Hogwarts. Other than his Quidditch training and his Prefect duties, Draco could spend his free time scouring the shelves and if the answers weren't there, he'd ask Nix to bring him what he needed from the Malfoy library.

After countless hours of pouring over different books, he realized the answer wasn't in a book. He'd only learned that the Diadem was lost—had been lost, so in theory, he needed to find out where it had been before. He knew for certain that Rowena Ravenclaw owned it and that it was found to be lost shortly after her death. So perhaps she'd passed it on to a relative, and so he'd followed that thread, only to discover that she'd been murdered. He doubled back to the Hogwarts: A History and was about to give up when he came across the section of the Ghosts of Hogwarts.

The Grey Lady.

He knew her, she was Ravenclaw's house ghost. He'd seen her floating about in the corridors before. He called for Nix who apparated to him with a pop.

"Master Draco calls Nix?"

"Nix, this is very important. I need you to bring me any books we have from the Malfoy library on the Grey Lady."

The elf looked up at him a little fearfully. "But Master Lucius—"

"Father is in Azkaban. I'm head of Malfoy Manor now, do you understand? You're allowed in the library. Do it immediately."

Nix nodded and disapparated without another word.

A few hours later, as Draco was undressing to step into the shower, Nix apparated into the bathroom, startling him.

"What are you doing in here Nix?"

"Master said to bring him any books on the Grey Lady—"

"Yes, but not in the bathroom while I'm half-naked!"

Nix began whimpering like a wounded animal.

"No, no," he said quickly, taking the book. "That was quick work. Brilliant, really."

Suddenly the elf was smiling again, staring up at him.

"We only had the one?" asked Draco.

Nix began to nod frantically. "Nix looked everywhere."

Draco sighed hoping it would lead to something.

"Okay," he said and then dismissed him.

He waited a minute or two to fully undress, fearing that Nix would randomly apparate back in. Barmy house-elves; personal boundaries, that's what they needed.

Draco changed his tune when he sat up in bed that night skimming the book. Although the book had a stasis charm on it, it was still falling apart in his hands. Most pages were illegible and it took him a while to understand. Nix could pop into the bathroom all he liked. He'd brought Draco, Helena Ravenclaw's diary. At first, Draco thought Nix must've gotten confused but as he flipped through the pages he realized that the Grey Lady, Ravenclaw's ghost, and Helena Ravenclaw, Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter were one and the same.

Closing the diary with care, he realized that not only did he know who he had to speak to, but that now he had leverage. Her personal diary.

Strangely enough, finding her in the castle had been the hardest part. He hadn't really ever realized how big the bloody place was until he was looking for a wandering ghost.

Finally, he caught sight of her floating along a corridor on the second floor.

"Er... miss?" he called out to her. "Grey Lady?"

She stopped and turned with a haughty scowl on her face.

"I need to ask you about Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem."

Her frown turned into a mocking smile. "You are hardly the first student to covet the Diadem," she said. "I cannot help you."

"I don't covet it, I already have it," he said making a show of looking at his nails.

The ghost looked at him skeptically.

"I found it," he said, as a way of explanation. "Here in the castle."

She floated closer toward him. "You found the Diadem?"

"Didn't I just say that?" he asked.

"But how?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I'm not telling you that. Finders keepers Helena, I'm not here to return it unless there's a finder's fee."

She looked utterly bewildered and Draco smirked triumphantly.

"Then it's as I suspected," she said after several moments. "You wish to keep it for yourself, as I did… wit beyond measure is—"

"Yeah, I've heard the whole spiel and I'm already a borderline genius so don't really care to go walking around wearing a tiara on my head."

The ghost frowned and asked, "Then why have you sought me?"

"There's something off about it... I thought if anyone knew anything, it'd be you."

"What more could I possibly tell you?"

"How about you start talking, and I'll give you this?" he said, revealing her diary from his robes.

Her eyes widened and Draco admired his theatrical flair for things.

She remained quite still, floating in midair, staring down at him, but Draco stood resolute.

"I stole the diadem from my mother," she began. "To make myself cleverer. I ran away with it. My mother, they say, never admitted that the diadem was gone, but pretended that she had it still. She concealed her loss, my dreadful betrayal, even from the other founders of Hogwarts. Then she fell ill, fatally ill..."

Draco listened carefully as she spoke and fought to keep a straight face even as she told him about the Bloody Baron.

"You hid it in a hollow tree, in a forest in Albania?" asked Draco after he'd absorbed everything. He watched her nod her head once. Yet it miraculously turned up at Hogwarts, in the Room of Hidden Things, he thought.

Eyeing her carefully, he asked, "Who else knew you hid it there?"

Helena stared at him in silence. He folded his arms. There was more to this story and he wasn't leaving till he'd gotten the truth from her.

"I had no idea. He was... flattering. He seemed to... to understand... to sympathize—"

"A name, I need a name," he pressed.

Her voice dropped above a whisper. "He used to go by the name of Tom Riddle."

Six Months Earlier in Azkaban...

It was his first visit to the prison since he'd taken the Dark Mark.

"Hello father," said Draco.

"Son."

Draco had visited him twice before with his mother but he could never get used to seeing his father like this, in tattered robes, unshaven and unclean. Nothing like the proud wizard he once resembled.

"Your mother has told me what has been asked of you," he said softly. "I am proud of you, son."

He remained silent. He'd waited years to hear those words and they were finally being spoken here, in all places.

"So very proud," he repeated and for a moment he thought he saw his father's eyes glisten in the dim light. "Listen to me Draco, there is something important you must know."

He sat up straighter and leaned forward on the table. His father proceeded to tell him about a diary he'd once had in his possession, the same diary that had opened the Chamber of Secrets in his second year. He went on to explain how enraged the Dark Lord had been when he learned of what had happened to the diary.

"It could not have merely been a dark object as I believed it to be... his fury—I thought he might kill me. It was far more important than I'd imagined. I think… I think I know what it was…"

Then his father told him what a Horcrux was.

"And you believe the diary was this thing," said Draco vacillating between awe and horror. "A Horcrux?"

"Yes, yes," he said a little wild-eyed. "It is how the Dark Lord has been able to come back from the dead… and I believe… yes… it makes sense… there must be more of them."

"More?" Draco's brow furrowed. "How do you know?"

"If it were me... if I were to do it… I'd have made at least another."

"Another diary?" he asked.

"No!" his father tutted as if he'd gotten a potion's ingredient wrong. "The soul Draco. I'd put it in something else… something significant... valuable... somewhere worthy of the soul." His father's eyes glazed over as if in deep thought. Then they focused on him again. "You must never repeat what I've told you, Draco, never. Only if, if the time came, only if…"

His father was a raving madman.

"If what?" he snapped. "Why are you telling me this?"

He lent over the table, his long unkempt hair falling into his haggard face and then suddenly he was Lucius Malfoy again. "It is always good to have a contingency plan."

Draco clenched his jaw tightly, his hands balling into fists. "So you expect me to fail—"

"This should never have fallen to you," he rasped with a pained expression.

"He chose me—ME!" he hissed vehemently.

His fathers face fell. "Yes Draco," he conceded quietly. "It is you he has chosen…"

"And it is you who is sitting in Azkaban father, not me."

Suddenly those eyes that were so much like his, hardened, alert and alive. "What is it you want to say to me?"

Draco swallowed, bracing himself for the backlash of his defiance. "You should've told me what you were planning… I could've helped, I would've done everything I could to stop them from leaving Hogwarts. If Potter had been alone, if he didn't think he had a fighting chance, he might've just handed you the Prophecy and we wouldn't be in this mess!"

His father was staring at him with a stony face.

"Them?" he echoed softly. "Who would you have stopped leaving Hogwarts Draco?"

"His band of merry friends, who else?"

"Yes," he said warily, scrutinizing Draco closely. "They were there."

Draco tore his eyes away.

Azkaban was already ruining him.

As soon as the name left the Grey Lady's lips, Draco suspected what the Diadem truly was. To say it was merely another dark object just didn't sit right. It's why he'd gone digging into things because it wasn't an object; it was alive. That's why he'd run.

Feeling a little sorry for Helena Ravenclaw he proposed to leave her diary somewhere in the Hogwarts library for her. She thanked him and asked what he would do with the Diadem.

He told her quite plainly that he didn't know.

"If you've truly found it," she'd said. "You should destroy it."

And so he'd agreed to do exactly that. Horcrux or not, he thought, I don't want that thing around. He'd returned to the Room of Hidden Things and tried to destroy it, and the more he tried and failed, the more it affirmed his belief that the Diadem was, in fact, a Horcrux.

The next day, Draco arrived early at the Three Broomsticks so that he'd have time to remove the curse he'd placed on Madam Rosmerta. Upon first realizing the gravity of being in possession of the Dark Lord's Horcrux, he thought he may be able to use it as leverage but to try to blackmail him would probably end in Draco's death. Finding the cursed thing changed everything though. Part of him wished he never had because for the first time in his life he had the opportunity to play the hero and he honestly wanted no part in it. That sort of thing was Potter's business. So he had, at one point considered just handing it to him. Then his next thought had been to hand it to Dumbledore… come clean… but the truth was that he didn't trust either Potter or Dumbledore. Sure, he had a knack for surviving near-death experiences and Dumbledore was a great wizard but Potter was extremely impulsive and Dumbledore trusted Snape, a loyal servant of the Dark Lord. No, if he handed it to either of them and they failed to kill him, there'd be a bounty over his head.

No, he had to get rid of it himself. At least then he could be sure. He could do it in secret and if it didn't work, the Dark Lord would never have to know.

Luckily for him, he hadn't yet told the barmaid to give Slughorn the poisoned bottle of wine for Dumbledore. Case and point–he couldn't believe how he'd gotten away with it all, right under the old fool's nose. Not that he'd gotten away with it in the sense of succeeding in killing the headmaster, but that he'd managed to Imperio someone, to sneak in poison, as well as a cursed necklace. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched. He'd been so deep in his own dragonshit that he'd forgotten all about Katie Bell. At least, he thought, consoling himself, she was in St. Mungo's recovering and would be fine. His palms were sweaty as he sat at the pub waiting for Tracey who said would meet him after shopping with Millicent. Draco didn't have to wait for long because a few minutes later she was walking through the door.

When she arrived she suggested they move to the table at the back. Any bloke knew that that was the snogging table, it's why he'd sat there with Hermione, it's why Theo had immediately sensed what he was up to, it was also why he hadn't sat there for this date… but what could he say?

"Come on," she said sweetly pulling him by the hand. He followed. The thing with Tracey was that it was easy to forget the reality of things as they were. She had this way of making him laugh even when he didn't really feel like laughing and they had a lot in common. They were in the middle of reminiscing the famous Bulstrode ball they'd both been forced to attend when they were young.

"Mrs. Bulstrode was so sloshed by the end of the night. Remember when she fell into the water fountain, robes, gown and all!" she laughed.

"And Mr. Bulstrode had to jump in after her," he chortled. "Yeah, that was hilarious!"

"And do you remember what your mother said?"

He shook his head.

Tracey raised her chin with a serious expression. Tight-lipped she said, "Lucius, do be a dear and offer poor Margaret your robes."

Draco burst out laughing. "I remember now," he said, barely able to breathe. "The look on Father's face when she told him that she didn't care if they were silk..." Then his laughter slowly subsided as he thought of his father sitting all alone in a cell in Azkaban. She immediately realized the shift and began to apologize for bringing it up.

"I didn't mean to be so thoughtless," she winced.

He waved it off, clearing his throat. "Knowing father, he probably has those guards bringing him braised duck and French wines," he said trying to make light of it. But the cheerful mood had dissipated and she was looking at him earnestly. She raised her hand and touched his arm.

"I really am sorry Draco," she whispered. "I was sad to hear he was sent there."

And he didn't know what made him say it but he did.

"I really wanted to kill Potter," he barked a hollow laugh. "I was so angry... but I think it's actually Father I'm angry at."

Tracey's eyes softened, searching his face.

"I really like you Draco," she whispered edging toward him.

He swallowed and he realized very late that she was leaning in to kiss him and that maybe he should let her. He tilted forward a little to meet her lips when he heard an audible gasp. He snapped his head toward the sound.

His mouth went dry.

Hermione reeled, almost knocking Madam Rosmerta to the floor. She mumbled an apology, her face flushed and ran into the bathroom.

Tracey let out a little giggle and snorted, "She's such a prude."

Draco frowned. He had a strange urge to follow Hermione into the bathroom. She'd looked upset and he couldn't help but feel a little guilty like somehow he was betraying her... and that was... ridiculous.

For a long time, he'd thought she'd only tried to apologize to assuage her own guilt, or maybe to get another confession from him, the one she had actually been after that night. But there was something about her expression...

"What are you thinking?" asked Tracey.

For a split-second, he thought about telling her the truth, but he imagined how warped it would sound if he did. He took a big swig of his butterbeer. "Nothing," he said quickly. "Shall we start heading back?"

"Already?" she pouted.

Draco smirked, "Challenge you to a round of Black Witch."

She was laughing, a deep throaty chuckle, "Oh, you're on Mister Malfoy."

"Don't get too cocky. If Theo plays with us, he'll probably win," he said standing up.

Tracey smiled, "So, you two are talking again?"

He shrugged, not realizing their fall out had been noticed. "Suppose so. One-syllable words… it's a work in progress."

"I'm happy to hear that," she giggled.

Draco offered her, her robes, grateful that she'd left it at that. He put some coins on the table and she slipped her hand in his as they left.

That night after everyone had gone to bed Draco lay wide awake. He'd just spent hours with Tracey but he couldn't seem to get Hermione out of his head. He thought about how many messages she'd sent him, how she'd tried speaking to him in the library, how she'd been laughing with Weasley in Defense Against the Dark Arts and how he'd secretly enjoyed breaking up their little party when he was forced to sit next to her. He hadn't even realized they were friends again. When had that happened?

And then Draco had become so mesmerized by the blush that spread across her cheeks when she couldn't answer Snape's question. It reminded him of how she'd looked that night when he'd had his head between her legs.

Rubbing his face, he willed his mind not to go there again.

He'd locked that door.

It had begun to drizzle outside and a cold breeze swept through the corridors. He'd tried to use different spells, stronger ones but the result was the same. The Diadem didn't have a scratch on it. It dawned on him then that there were only a handful of people who knew how to destroy a Horcrux—the same people who knew how the diary was destroyed and perhaps only one of them, would tell him the truth.

But he couldn't possibly ask her… could he?

He found Hermione in the first place he thought to look for her. As he approached her, he felt her stiffen and slowly raise her head.

Draco walked around to face her.

"Granger…"

She just stared at him and it was unnerving.

Just ask her and get it over with, he thought.

He slid his hands in his pockets and rolled his shoulders back, drawing taller.

"I need to ask you something."

She put her quill down and raised her eyes.

"Not here," he said. "Meet me tonight at half-past ten outside the Room of Requirement."

Her mouth fell open a little. "But... but that's past curfew," she said.

He couldn't believe it. After all the rules she'd broken, she was still an indignant cow about breaking curfew. Why the sly, moody, self-righteous, hypocritical little witch!

"Stolen anymore Veritaserum lately?" he drawled. "I'd be happy to let Professor Slughorn know that his precious little student has been stealing from the stores."

He watched in amusement as her face slackened, defeated.

"Okay," she agreed. "Tonight."

That had been a lot easier than he'd expected it to be. He turned to leave and then stopped. There was a small white feather stuck in the strands of her hair. Before he could stop himself he reached to pluck it out. He heard the lock click open. He looked at it for a moment. He heard the handle turn. His eyes drifted on their own accord to meet hers and he dropped the feather.

She blushed.

And just like that, the door was open.

"Don't be late," he swallowed nervously.

An indescribable feeling was hammering within his chest, expanding and flowing till he felt it simmering beneath the bitterness and anger. When he was finally alone again, inside his dormitory, he cradled his head in his hands, cussing out loud... because he knew.

No matter how many locks he put on the door, he was still in love with her.

The room still existed.

Hermione had left, slamming the door shut behind her. The sound seemed to echo through the room and her words haunted him.

Sometimes I fucking hate you.

His mind was racing trying to figure out how she had found out. His memory of it had faded but he'd said it, all those years ago, to Crabbe and Goyle in the Slytherin common room. There was no one else around and surely if there was it would've been another Slytherin and he couldn't think of anyone, Crabbe and Goyle included, who'd want to tattle. Then he recalled that those two lugs had been acting strangely and he'd thought something was off…

Draco drew a deep breath. It made little difference to how she knew. The damage was done, years ago, and there was nothing he could do.

He spent the next whole day feeling like an absolute tosser and the day after he began to think that she'd probably realize that she didn't owe him anything and forget all about getting him the password to the Chamber of Secrets. Draco dragged himself to the library pretending to do homework when in reality he was trying to find anything and everything about Tom Riddle.

Coming up empty-handed he decided, getting out his homework, that he may as well do something productive. As he was unrolling some parchment he looked up to see Hermione enter the library with a stack of books pressed to her chest. She looked at him purposefully and walked down one of the aisles. He took a subtle survey of the room and seeing that no one else was watching he stood to follow her.

She was waiting for him. As he approached her, she took out a small piece of folded parchment and handed it to him. He opened it greedily.

"What the hell is this?" he frowned reading the letters.

She shrugged as if it must be obvious. "The password."

"It's a bunch of gibberish!"

In a sarcastic tone she spat, "Well excuse me, I'm not as fluent in Parseltongue as I used to be. Just hiss it like a snake Draco, can't be that hard considering…"

His eyes narrowed on her but he decided not to take the bait. "Are you sure it'll work?"

"I broke it down phonetically, so yes."

Running a hand through his hair he asked her to say it just once. He wanted to be certain to say it the right way. She hesitated for a moment, glancing around, but then hissed something out.

Draco pursed his lips. "I don't think that's right," he told her. "Try saying it again."

She let out a huff of indignation as if insulting her ability to enunciate was a grave offense. She took a breath and repeated it.

"I still think you're getting it wrong," he hummed.

Snatching the piece of paper from him she read it out loud slowly, syllable for syllable and then again, all at once. He tried hard not to but he couldn't help it, he laughed. It suddenly dawned on her what he'd been doing and she took the stack of books in her hands and began whacking him with them. He raised his hands in surrender, still chuckling at how incredibly gullible she was. She'd never survive Slytherin.

"Alright, alright," he said smiling brightly at her. "Your books are heavy and they bloody hurt."

She was smiling back and their eyes met. Then it was as if they both suddenly remembered that they were meant to be angry with one another and grew serious again.

"So," said Draco, clearing his throat. "It'll work?"

"Yes," she said exasperatedly. "For the last time, it'll work,"

Draco looked at the garbled letters, praying that she was right.

"Wait," she said grabbing his arm when he turned to leave.

He stared at where her fingers clutched to him with a frown. "For what?" he said shoving her off.

Hermione licked her lips and swallowed. "Shouldn't I go with you?"

That was out of the question.

"Go where?" Draco asked without blinking.

He watched as her forehead creased.

"TO—" she lowered her voice. "The Chamber of Secrets."

With a blank expression on his face, he said, "I haven't the faintest idea of what you're on about Granger."

Her mouth fell open and he took that as his cue to run away quickly.