"Spit that out. Now."

Hadrian, holding the coppery liquid in his mouth, turned to look at a serious Zabini.
"Now!"

Hadrian spat the liquid out onto the floor, where it gathered on the wooden floorboards. He wiped his tongue on the back of his sleeve, ignoring Zabini's slightly squeamish response. There was a pause, and then –

"I thought you were smart, Potter. That was very, very stupid."

Hadrian could only stare, confused, before a quiet horror bloomed in the pit of his stomach as a realisation dawned on him. "Did – did you see who left these here?"

Zabini snorted derisively. "More to the point, Potter did you ? You're beginning to understand how to play the game, but clearly not quickly enough."

"I - I recognised the handwriting," Hadrian responded defensively, but he knew it was weak even as he said it.

Zabini raised an eyebrow at him. "You must play defence as well as offence, Potter. It doesn't matter how good you are at magic, or how well you manipulate others, if you'll put anything with your name on it in your body. Draco's been going to classes with Davis for months now, it wouldn't be that hard to copy her handwriting. Or get a year above to use a spell to do so."

"You think it was Malfoy?" Hadrian asked, horrified and ashamed, desperately hoping he did not lose a potential ally through a show of weakness. Although it would have been strange of Zabini to intervene if was just going to throw it in his face, he considered thoughtfully.

Zabini shrugged. "I don't know who it was, but again, neither do you. It very well could have been Davis. But you don't want to chance it, not after the waves you've been making. It might have been Davis, or Draco, or even someone much worse. You have enemies much far powerful than Draco, who have hated you for much longer."

The horror inside Hadrian grew as he finally grasped the extent of his error. "That… could have gone very badly." He said slowly, eyes drinking in every shift in the other boy's expression. Unfortunately Zabini had always been notoriously unreadable. "Thank you."

Zabini dipped his head diplomatically.

"I suppose," Hadrian furthered, testing the waters, "That someone who may have just saved me - at the very least - a good deal of shame and humiliation ought to be able to call me Hadrian." He wondered if he had imagined the gleam in Zabini's eyes when he said those words.

"Very well," Zabini replied, his voice smooth and betraying no hint of the satisfaction Hadrian had sworn he'd glimpsed. "Hadrian it is. I suppose you ought to call me Blaise, then."

"Thank you, Blaise," Hadrian said, the horror in the pit of his stomach evolving into annoyance at his own incompetence. "I owe you one." It took all of his willpower not to say those words through gritted teeth.

Blaise smiled, and his teeth were brilliantly white. He was an unfairly good-looking young boy, and if Hadrian hadn't been schooled on keeping his expression in check, he might have blushed. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way to repay me somehow. Goodnight, Hadrian."

"Goodnight, Blaise."

Hadrian did not sleep peacefully that night, but spent an hour shouting at himself in his head. Elena would not be impressed, and frankly neither would Spider. He needed to be more careful. He would ask Tracey in the morning, but even if it really was just Dreamless Sleep potion she had sent him, it was still a stupid thing to do. He was just lucky it had only been him and Blaise in the dormitory, and not Malfoy. Who knows what might have happened to him then.

The next morning brought a breath of relief when Tracey admitted to leaving the vials on his bed. "I was just trying to be helpful," she said, concerned. "I'm sorry if it caused you any trouble, or -"

"No! No, it's fine. Very kind, actually," Hadrian said with an exhale. He felt a little less indebted to Blaise now. "Where did you get them?"

"Madam Pompfrey. I know you're too proud, but I just told her I was having nightmares and that they were keeping me from being able to fully throw myself into my studies. She was very sweet."

Hadrian was suddenly struck by how thoughtful Tracey was. "Thanks again, Trace. I'll try them tonight." He was curious now. Even if his weariness was brought on more by overexertion than nightmares, they were still a problem, and even the runes Elena had taught him were not always enough.

"Have you had a think about your gifting plans for the holidays?" Tracey asked, spooning sugar onto her oatmeal. Her voice was low, and Hadrian furrowed a brow.

"I hadn't really thought about it. Do most of the Slytherins even celebrate Christmas?" He was doubtful, with the way they had reacted to Halloween.

Tracey shrugged. "Some do, some don't. It's not quite so offensive as Halloween. But mostly they celebrate Yule, and tolerate Christmas. Yule gifts are a good way to figure out where you stand with people, and let them know where they stand with you."

Hadrian nodded, more grateful by the day that Tracey had been desperate for a friend at the beginning of the year. But that night, when he held one of the vials between his fingers, he heard Elena raging in his ear, and despite Tracey's assurance, he did not drink it. He packed the vials away into his drawer with a sigh, resigning himself to encumbered nights and tired days.

Over the next few days, he paid close attention to the way each of his housemates reacted to the Christmas decorations that covered the castle. Malfoy and his cronies turned up their noses but didn't seem to have that much of a care either way. Bulstrode treated them as sources of bizarre amusement, seeming a bit bemused by the whole concept. Greengrass and Nott scowled at the slightest sight of tinsel. Zabini seemed unbothered, but then, he always did. Rowle had no reaction he could glean, other than seeming to meet Hadrian's eyes whenever his gaze shifted to watch her. He still didn't really know what to make of her.

Tracey introduced him to the Owl Order service, and by the end of the next week, Hadrian had purchased each of the gifts he was to send. Some of them made him nauseous to spend so much money, but he only had to remember the enormous sum he had beneath Gringotts to reassure himself he was making important decisions.

At breakfast a few days before the end of term, Hadrian was feeling immensely pleased with himself. He felt he had chosen all of his gifts well, and he was going home on the train next weekend! He would get to see his family again, and would be able to breathe properly for the first time in nearly four months. He still wasn't sure how Roach was going to treat him upon his return. He hoped time was enough to sway the child, but he couldn't blame him if he remained angry. He understood that anger more than anyone. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind as an owl flew past him, dropping a letter next to his eggs. He opened it with a roll of his eyes.

Hadrian,

I know how much you must want to come home for the holidays, but I think you should remain at Hogwarts. You don't want to miss out on the connections that will be forged amongst the students that remain, and you need to keep up the façade of the Dursleys. Don't you think Dumbledore will be suspicious if you go home for the holidays? We don't want him to start poking his head where he shouldn't – where it might get your family in trouble. It's your choice, but make it a smart one.

Happy Yule. Merry Christmas.

Elena

Hadrian's heart sank, and he digested his anger quickly. She was right, of course. He would never have chosen to go home for the holidays if it meant spending extra time with the Dursleys. But he hated her for it anyway.

He scowled all the way through writing his explanation letter to Hero, including all the 'sorry's' he could muster, and sent it along with his Christmas card and gifts. He had bought them a chest full of solid gold goblets for Stickler to fence, as well as individual gifts for each of them. He knew they would be a little hurt that he couldn't come home, but he hoped they would all understand he wanted to keep them safe. Otherwise nothing he was doing mattered.

He told Professor McGonagall he was staying, who managed not to look at him pityingly as he wrote his name on her list, which he was grateful for. He made sure to memorise all the names on the list as he wrote his down; in Slytherin, it was only Blaise, Rowle, and Nott who were staying. It was sure to be an interesting holidays. Davis had offered, but Hadrian knew she missed her parents, and had waved her off. Neville and Hermione were both going home. Truth be told, Hadrian was looking forward to the castle being a bit quieter. He would be able to relax a bit, and perhaps get a little more ahead in his studies. It would also be an opportunity to get more of a read on Blaise and Rowle, who so far were still mysteries to him. Rowle seemed to love nothing more than appearing and offering off-putting warnings, while Blaise kept helping him out. First the duel, then the vials… it was strange, and Hadrian couldn't fathom why the other boy was being so helpful. It was the type of thing Hadrian would have done if he'd wanted to gain an ally, but what could Blaise think he had to gain from an alliance with Hadrian? Especially before he had won the duel? Hadrian was determined to spend the holidays figuring it out.

On the last day of term, Hadrian lounged in the common room between Greengrass and Bulstrode.

"Do they really bring the trees into their tiny little rowhouses?" Bulstrode was asking, and Hadrian chuckled and nodded. "But surely they can't keep them alive without magic. And - how do they keep the pine needles from covering the floor if they can't vanish them?"

Hadrian shrugged. "Apparently they just sweep them up. Repeatedly. For months afterwards."

Bulstrode opened her mouth to reply when the portal to the common room opened, and Gemma Farley ducked through. Hadrian raised a hand in greeting and she nodded at him, walking over.

"Potter," she said, her tone missing it's usual amused undertone, "The Headmaster would like to see you in his office."

Hadrian groaned internally. This couldn't be a good thing. "What does he want?"
Farley pursed her lips. "He didn't say."

Bulstrode glanced at Hadrian worriedly, and Greengrass narrowed her eyes. Hadrian sighed, but got to his feet. "Thanks. I'll be quick." He hoped.

"Password is 'chocolate frogs'."
Hadrian nodded and gathered up his things, muttering a quick apology to his companions as he did so.

The Headmaster's office was just as strange as the first time Hadrian had visited it, and he was almost certain all the strange instruments had moved places. It felt like a place designed to fill one with wonder, and that made him all the more determined to be as cynical as possible.

"Harry, my boy, do take a seat," came Dumbledore's grandfatherly voice from a doorway behind the desk. Hadrian forced his jaw to remain unclenched and approached the desk, waiting for the old man to sit before he did so.

"It's Hadrian, Professor."

"Of course, my boy. I mean no offence."

Hah.

The headmaster looked at him, his watery blue eyes peering over his half-moon spectacles like a dimmed pair of interrogation lamps. Hadrian quickly moved his gaze to the many silver trinkets on the desk, before tracing a pattern in the wood and prompting, "Professor? You asked to see me."

"Hm? Oh, yes. Yes, you see, I'm a bit concerned about you."

"Concerned, Professor?"

"Yes. I know it's really the first time in your life that you've had any money, let alone a couple vaults' worth, but I'm concerned at your spending rate."

Hadrian froze. Could Dumbledore… surely not. Surely his parents wouldn't have been so stupid.

"Professor," he said carefully, measuring his tone, "How do you know how much I've been spending?" Maybe he just kept tabs on the owls going in and out of the castle. That wasn't a comforting thought, but it was better than the alternative.

"Ah, excellent question. I'm afraid that when your parents died -" Hadrian refused to react despite the watery blue eyes searching his face "- I became your temporary magical guardian. Your aunt and uncle are your legal guardians, but as they are both muggles and were unlikely to agree to interact with anything from our world, you needed a magical guardian as well."

Hadrian's stomach plummeted. That was what he had been afraid of. How had this been possible? His parents must have had at least one other person they'd trust to take care of their son more than Dumbledore. He was powerful, sure, but he was also old and busy and famous and Dumbledore. A person that even Elena feared. Who would entrust their child to a man like this?

"Harry, my boy? Are you quite all right?" Dumbledore peered at him over his spectacles, and Hadrian's fingers twitched.

"Yes, Professor." He tried not to make the words sound clipped.

Dumbledore smiled genially, and Hadrian wanted to grab his beard and yank him closer so he could slap the glasses from his face. He restrained himself.

"As I was saying, I'm afraid your spending is a bit out of control. You have your school things for the next six years to worry about, and you've spent hundreds of galleons in the past few weeks. May I ask what you are purchasing?"

Ah. That was good. At least he didn't know what Hadrian was spending the money on, even if he knew how much it was. "Just Christmas gifts, Professor." He did his best to shrink in on himself. "I… I've never really had friends to buy gifts for, Professor. I wanted to…" he let himself trail off.

It seemed the right thing to say, as any trace of suspicion that might have clouded the old man's eyes faded, replaced by pity. Hadrian hated him for it.

"You are very generous, Harry." His fingers twitched again. "It's very kind, but I'm afraid it can't continue. I'm going to have to place a blanket ban on your withdrawals and expenditures from your account."

Account singular?

"Professor, surely that's not necessary," Hadrian said hastily. "I'll remember your warning, I promise."

Dumbledore smiled again. "It's for your own good, I'm afraid. But if you really do feel that you need to purchase something, just tell me what it is, and I can temporarily lift the ban. And of course I shall lift it when it's time to purchase your things for next school year."

Hadrian considered, just for a moment, throwing his future away just for the look on the man's face if he punched him in the gut and then tried to toss him out the window. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that it seemed like Dumbledore only knew about his Potter accounts, and so had only banned him from that one. It wouldn't really impact his finances, but it still smarted at him.

"If… I…" Hadrian sighed, looking at his shoes. "I suppose you're probably right, sir. Sorry for being a bit irresponsible."

"No need to apologise, my boy! I can completely understand, but I thought it's best to nip it in the bud before you wake up with no money to buy textbooks."

Hadrian forced a chuckle.

His letter to Elena that night included more than a few expletives.

Hadrian spent the first few days of the holidays in different unused classrooms practising his magic, and imaging Dumbledore on the end of each one of his hexes. By the time the first day of Yule rolled around, Hadrian had almost lost track of the days. Farley accosted Hadrian in the common room on the morning of the 21st, dropping a small wrapped package on top of his open Transfiguration textbook. He looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

"Happy Yule," she said with a grin. Hadrian noticed she was smiling with the type of genuine joy she generally reserved for quidditch. Hadrian blinked several times.

"Happy Yule!" He replied with a smile. "Thank you." He made to open it but she smacked his hands. Instinctually he grabbed her hand, making to bend it back over her wrist, before catching himself and letting it go quickly.

Farley's previous joy was now tinged with curiosity, but she didn't seem offended. She withdrew her hand. "Wait until Christmas to open it. They may say they don't celebrate it," she said, gesturing her head to the other Slytherins in the common room, "But it's still nice to have a day where everyone opens theirs together down here. You're still allowed to be kids sometimes."

Hadrian felt a bit like a deer in headlights; he hadn't thought to buy Farley a gift, hadn't dreamed that she would get him one. He worried he'd just committed a terrible faux pas when Farley laughed at him.

"Stop looking so terrified, Potter. I don't expect you to have got me anything. I merely saw this and thought you ought to have it."

Every time Hadrian thought he had Slytherin figured out, he was proven wrong. He couldn't fathom what had prompted this, could guess what angle Farley was playing. But he wasn't going to let her know that.

"Thank you, Farley. That's very kind of you." His tone was genuine; he truly did appreciate her thoughtfulness, even if it was just to further some scheme, which he was nearly certain of. She smiled and returned to her seat by the fireplace, and Hadrian's brow creased as he pondered for the first time why she was staying over the holidays. From what he had gathered, Farley was fairly close with her family. Perhaps she wanted extra time to study for her O.W.L.s… but surely a family of her wealth had a library at home. None of her friends seemed to be staying either. It was odd. He made a mental note to keep half an eye on her doings for the rest of the holiday.

Even Nott grew less irritable as they days between then and Christmas grew fewer; he didn't explicitly insult Hadrian once, and even complimented him once. It seemed to Hadrian that despite the more traditional families' distaste for muggle holidays, they still could not avoid the excitement of children during the holidays. Hadrian did not fault them; despite their demeanors and expectations, they were all still eleven-year-old school children, and it was Christmas.