A/N: Sorry it's a little late, I had some writers block and then ffnet was down for a few days. I hope you enjoy this chapter! It was a little hard for me to write so I want to hear your thoughts on it!

Thanks again, and I really appreciate all your kind reviews!

Potions Classroom [September 5th]

Though they had only returned to Hogwarts a few days ago, Hadrian felt as though the last fleeting moments of summer disappeared as soon as the early chill of September rolled around. Despite the unusual coldness of the castle, the Potions classroom was almost unbearably warm as he watched his newest professor work his way around the room.

"Riddle, you say?" Slughorn peered down at him with slightly narrowed eyes, "Do you happen to have any magical relatives, Mr. Riddle?"

Hadrian resisted the urge to snort at the lack of subtlety, only moving to answer his professor's question when he felt Daphne kick his leg lightly under the desk. "Uh, actually, sir," He ducked his head down, feigning embarrassment, "I'm an orphan. I don't know much about my family history."

"An orphan?" The potions professor repeated, his expression immediately souring, "How awful that must be."

"It was at first," Hadrian shrugged. "But the Malfoys have raised me as though I was one of their own. I've been lucky enough to have made plenty of friends in the castle as well, and it certainly makes it seem more like home."

"Ah yes, I've been told you're quite the darling of the Slytherin house," His professor smirked, "Reminds me of myself, back in the day."

Hadrian tried not to grimace at the thought of being even remotely similar to the portly man in front of his table. "Actually, Sir, I do have a fair number of friends outside my house," He flashed his perfect white teeth at Slughorn with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Hermione Granger is one of my good friends. Surely you remember her, she spoke quite highly of you when Ravenclaw had double potions yesterday."

From somewhere in the back, Neville smothered his laugh with a loud cough at the lie, knowing perfectly well Hermione had nothad anything kind to say about their professor. They hadn't forgotten how she had approached them in the corridor the day before, ranting about the "stupid, sycophantic, old man" as she tried in vain to fix the disastrous state of her hair after it nearly tripled in volume after class.

"Of course, I remember Miss. Granger. She's really quite talented, for a muggleborn. Though I must say, I'm surprised you're acquainted with her, Mr. Riddle," Slughorn commented, though some of the suspicion on his face seemed to fade away.

"Why is that surprising, professor?" Hadrian smiled blandly, though he knew exactly why Slughorn had been shocked by his friendship with Hermione.

Slughorn faltered, clearly not expecting to be called out on his blatant prejudice. "Well–I suppose, I thought that Miss. Granger was a–That is to say, I was expecting my Slytherins to keep to themselves, but good on you for your efforts towards inter-house unity. Five points to Slytherin," He sputtered, quickly moving back to the front of the classroom to begin class.

"That man has the tact of a hippogriff," Daphne whispered from beside him, flipping a page in her potions textbook with boredom.

Hadrian was about to respond when suddenly there was a loud thud as the door to the classroom flung open and Potter and Weasley entered, looking slightly startled as everyone else in the class turned to stare at them.

"Ah, Mr. Potter!" Slughorn announced, "My, my, this is quite a surprise. I wasn't made aware you had signed up for NEWT-level Potions this term."

"I'm surprised they even qualified," Draco muttered loudly.

Potter flushed, "Professor McGonagall insisted we do something more useful with our time. She suggested we add on Potions with you, Sir, since we're interested on becoming Aurors after we graduate."

"If you live that long, Potter!" Someone in the back–who suspiciously sounded like Blaise attempting an American accent–called out, earning several chuckles from across the room.

"Alright now, settle down," Slughorn warned the class, walking down the aisle to shake Alexander's hand. "I'm not surprised you've chosen to take potions. Your mother was quite the talented brewer herself."

"Was she?" Potter smiled tightly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Yes, I wonder how is she doing now?" Slughorn stared at him imploringly.

Alexander averted his gaze, glowering at the dusty stone floor, "Well-uh-she's actually a bit occupied at the moment–" He choked out.

"She's in Azkaban, Professor Slughorn," Neville informed him. "For attempting to murder her husband," He added.

"Oh-well-That's–Well, I suppose it's a good thing you're following in your father's footsteps then, eh? He's an Auror, correct?"

Potter nodded stiffly, looking as though he would like nothing more than to strangle the Professor in front of him.

"I'm pleased you've decided to join our class, Mr. Potter," Slughorn smiled widely at him. His gaze fell over Ron Weasley and he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, "Mr. Weasley."

Hadrian couldn't help but snicker quietly as Ron Weasley looked utterly put out that their professor had barely spared him a glance. Slughorn instructed them to pick out a spare textbook from the supply cabinet, and they all turned their attention back to the front of the room as Slughorn resumed their lesson.

"Now, can anyone tell me what this potion is?" The potions professor asked the class expectantly, pulling the lid off the shiny gold cauldron on the table set up only a few feet away from them.

Hadrian leaned closer, watching with rapt attention as the steam emitting from the potion rose in spirals through the air. A light aroma of roses, strawberries, and something citrusy filled the room and he inhaled deeply, gripping the edge of his table as he tried to identify the scent.

"I believe that's Amortentia, Sir," Daphne answered smoothly, breaking his concentration. "It's the most powerful love potion in the world."

"That is correct, Miss. Greengrass," Slughorn crowed. "It's rumored that Amortentia smells differently to each person, according to what attracts them." He gestured to the glimmering cauldron, "Perhaps you'd like to share what you smell, Miss. Greengrass."

Daphne stared at the cauldron for a moment and crossed her arms across her chest, "If you don't mind, I would prefer to keep that information to myself, Professor."

"Clever girl!" Slughorn chuckled, "Now, despite its effects, Amortentia does not create actual love, it can only create a powerful infatuation or obsession. For that reason, it is perhaps the most dangerous potion in this room! Miss. Greengrass certainly understands the alarming consequences of such a concoction. Five points to Slytherin!"

Hadrian blinked as Slughorn replaced the lid on the cauldron and moved on to the next potion. He kept his eyes trained at the front of the class, even as he placed his hand on Daphne's knee underneath the table, slowly trailing it up her thigh until he felt the lacey edge of her stockings.

"What are you doing?" She whispered, batting his hand away from her skirt discreetly.

"What did you smell?" He asked her, forcing himself to look disinterested.

"I'm trying to pay attention to this class, Hadrian," She replied evenly, turning back to face the chalkboard.

"Just tell me," He pressed, undeterred by her stubborn resolution to ignore him. "I'll find out eventually."

"Have I ever told you that your childish whinging is not an attractive quality?"

"Don't be silly, everything about me is attractive."

Daphne rolled her eyes, keeping her gaze fixed on the potion Slughorn was explaining in front of them.

Her boyfriend was silent for all of two seconds before he frowned, "You're really not going to tell me?"

"Hadrian, please, I want to focus on this potion," She kicked his leg underneath the table again, smiling smugly to herself as he winced.

"It's just the Draught of Living Death," He muttered. "It's not even that difficult, I could probably brew it in my sleep."

"Oh, really?" Daphne scoffed under her breath. "That's quite arrogant of you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Care to make a wager?"

"Mr. Riddle," Slughorn called his name sharply and Hadrian stiffened in his seat. His professor shook his head at him with a knowing smile, "Do I need to separate you and Miss. Greengrass?"

"No, sir," Hadrian promised, looking properly admonished, "We were just so excited about the last potion, we couldn't contain ourselves."

Slughorn glanced at the vial next in line and visibly brightened, "Oho! Mr. Riddle has already gotten ahead of the class and identified the last potion we will be discussing today. Mr. Riddle, would you like to share with the class what this potion is?"

Hadrian cleared his throat, "Certainly, Sir. The last potion is Felix Felicis, also known as liquid luck. It makes the drinker incredibly lucky for a brief period of time, though it is highly dangerous in large quantities and banned in most cases."

"A perfect answer!" Slughorn praised, "This potion is quite difficult to brew, it takes about six months' time to fully come together," He walked back to the aisle between the potions benches and held up the glass vial of liquid luck, "Lucky for you all, this is what I am offering each of you the chance to obtain today. One tiny vial of liquid luck to the student who, in the hour that remains, can brew the best Draught of Living Death. Are you all up for the challenge?"

There was a murmur of excitement that passed through the room and Slughorn grinned, "Well alright then, off you go! This potion is a bit more complicated than anything you all have ever attempted, so not to worry! I am not expecting a perfect potion!"

His words were drowned out slightly by the sound of the students in the room rushing to head into the supply closet to gather their ingredients and begin heating their cauldrons.

Hadrian nudged Daphne's arm before she could get up from her seat, "You never answered my question."

Daphne scanned the list of ingredients in her textbook and sighed, "What's the wager?"

He gestured to their cauldrons set up on the table, "If I brew the best Draught of Living Death in the class, you'll tell me what your Amortentia smelled like."

She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion and thought about it for a long moment before nodding curtly, "Fine. But if you lose," She paused and a wicked smile played at her lips, "You have to spend the winter holidays with my family."

"This doesn't feel like a fair tradeoff," Hadrian pointed out, offering her his arm as they walked into the supply cabinet once most the class had already collected their ingredients and returned to their benches.

"How desperately do you want to know?" Daphne taunted him, her eyes glittering with mischief as she purposefully bent down in front of him to grab a vial on the lowest shelf.

Hadrian groaned. She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her against his chest to whisper into her ear, "Pretty badly."

"Well," She turned around in his arms and shot him a calculating look, "May the best student win, then." And with that, she gathered her supplies in her arms and walked back towards the classroom, "No cheating or sabotaging either!"

"Alright, fine. I can win without dirty tricks," He called out. His gaze dropped to the potions ingredients in her arms and he furrowed his brows, "Did you only collect ingredients for yourself, you selfish witch?"

She gave him an innocent look, "I'm not going to help my competition, Riddle," She sauntered out of the room and said, "You can collect your own ingredients!"

He grumbled to himself and set about doing just that, cursing quietly under his breath as he realized most of the good ingredients were already taken and if he wanted to win, he'd have to really focus on his technique.

Once he was quite sure he had all the ingredients, he left the supply closet and dumped the materials onto his table. He stubbornly kept his eyes trained on his own potion as he began to add the infusion of wormwood into his cauldron.

He followed the instructions in the textbook perfectly, although he had some difficulty extracting the juice from the Sopophorus bean. He could tell he wasn't the only one struggling, if the bean that had hit the side of his head as it catapulted away from Destiny's table was of any indication.

He glared at his sister from across the room, ignoring her sheepish shrug. He turned back to the bean in front of him and attempted to recall the private potions lessons his father had insisted upon when he was younger. Snape had taught him and Draco all sorts of interesting little tricks, and he knew that there had to be an easier way to collect the juice from the dried-up bean.

Perhaps that was the trick, He realized as he stared at the shriveled little thing. He didn't think cutting the bean was the proper way to go about this, despite what the textbook had said. He turned his blade to the side and began to crush the bean instead, hiding his triumphant grin as the dark burgundy juice from the bean started to ooze out.

He finished up the rest of his potion rather quickly after that, following the rest of the instructions in the book exactly as they were written. By the time Slughorn declared their time was up, he stepped away from his cauldron with a rather smug expression already plastered on his face.

He noticed Daphne glance toward his cauldron skeptically and he hurried to raise his hands up to block her view, however childish as it was. She huffed in annoyance and turned back to watch Slughorn as he slowly assessed each student's potion.

He had no doubt he was going to win as his Professor walked by each cauldron. Most of the other students hadn't even finished and the few that had were either abnormally off in the color or even the texture of their brew.

After a few moments, Slughorn finally made it to their table and Daphne stood patiently as Slughorn inspected her potion. He nodded a few times before saying, "Excellent work, Miss. Greengrass. While not perfect, it's certainly one of the best ones I've seen today!"

Daphne thanked him and sat back in her seat, primly crossing her legs with an expectant look as Slughorn moved on to his cauldron.

Slughorn stared at it for a few moments in surprise and slowly his wrinkled features twisted into awe, "Dear Merlin! Mr. Riddle this is a nearly perfect brew! The color is absolutely astonishing, and the potency seems remarkable! Ten points to Slytherin!"

"Why, thank you, sir," He nodded politely, sitting back down on his bench as Slughorn made his way to the Gryffindor side. He turned to look at Daphne with a victorious smirk, "I believe that means I won our little wager, darling."

"Not yet," Daphne retorted in a clipped tone. She tilted her head towards the opposite side of the room, "Slughorn still has to check Potter and Weasley's brew."

Hadrian snorted, "Please, as if either of them could ever–"

"My heavens! I thought no student could top Mr. Riddle's potion, but I am absolutely amazed by the perfect potion you have managed to brew today, Mr. Potter!" Slughorn exclaimed. He clapped the bespectacled boy on the back, "This is remarkable! It seems you've inherited your mother's potions prowess after all, Alexander! Thirty points to Gryffindor!"

Hadrian felt his jaw drop at the announcement, and he couldn't help but glance over to see how exactly that insufferable twit had managed to oust him for the best potion. Alexander Potter had always been more than abysmal at potions, barely scraping by in their OWL level class last year.

"How?" Daphne whispered, shocked by the revelation as well. "He couldn't tell a bezoar from a bat wing just a few months ago."

"I don't know," Hadrian gritted his teeth together in disbelief. He watched in abject misery as Slughorn continued to sing the boy's praises and awarded him the vial of Felix Felicis. A heavy feeling of doubt settled into his stomach as he packed up his things and cleared his workspace. The Gryffindors were all crowding around the stupid bloke, patting him on the back and congratulating him for his sudden talent with potions.

"Thirty house points?" Blaise hissed as they all eventually exited the classroom on their way to lunch. "Thirty?"

"That's almost an unnecessary amount of house points," Neville nodded sagely.

"I don't understand how he managed to beat us all out when he can barely wipe his own arse," Draco complained. He ignored the disapproving glance he received from Daphne and shrugged innocently, "What? It's true! I heard he had some issues with the toilet second year."

"You should honestly write for a gossip column in the Daily Prophet," Destiny shook her head at him. "I don't know why you insist on studying when you could make quite a career out of knowing everyone else's business."

"Oh sure, take his side," Draco pointed to her accusingly, "Gryffindor groupie."

"Yes, I am so pleased that Alexander Potter earned my house thirty points," Destiny bit out sarcastically. "So pleased, that I'm going to go over and give him a big kiss right now."

"That won't be necessary," Neville tugged her back towards him, and she hid a smile as he tossed an arm around her shoulders, "You can just get detention and lose the points he earned your house instead."

She gaped at him and pinched his side furiously, causing him to let go of her with a loud yelp. "I can't believe the nerve of you lot!"

"You don't even like your house though," Neville pointed out sourly, rubbing his side with a wince. "Why not?"

"It's the principle of it!" Destiny insisted.

Hadrian ignored their petty bickering and slowed down in his steps and pulled Daphne's hand into his own. She glanced back at him curiously but allowed him to hold them back a few paces as they walked behind their friends towards the Great Hall.

"I suppose we both lost the wager then," He sighed miserably, glaring at a group of excited Gryffindors as they passed by them in the corridor.

"Actually," Daphne stared up at him with an impish grin, "You lost the bet. Not me."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Neither of us brewed a potion better than Potter," He spat the other boy's name, looking disgusted at the turn of events.

"While that's true, the wager was that you'd win if you brewed the best potion in the class." Daphne smirked. "I'd win if you lost that gamble. Which you did."

He stared at her incredulously as her smile got wider and wider with each second of silence that ticked by.

"That's a technicality–" He finally began to say, but he was immediately cut off.

"Ah, ah, ah, Mr. Riddle," Daphne warned him in a low voice. "You know better than to argue about a small technicality. I won fair and square."

"Come on–"

"As soon as we have a free period, I'm going to write to my Mum to tell her you'll be joining us for the winter holidays. She'll be so excited to finally meet you," Daphne beamed.

"I've met your parents before," Hadrian reminded her, "I see them every year at the Malfoy Christmas Ball."

"That's true," She inclined her head in agreement, "But you've never formally been introduced. Oh, I can't wait to show you the estate, you'll absolutely love the duck pond."

Hadrian smirked, "This tour you speak of…will it include your room?"

"You'll definitely get to see my room," Daphne laughed to herself, twisting out of his reach to jog ahead into the Great Hall, "From the guest wing on the opposite end of the manor, of course."

Quidditch Pitch [October 27th]

"And Gryffindor scores again! But unfortunately, Slytherin is still ahead with one-hundred-and-ten more points, making the score now 140 to 250!"

Hadrian scowled as he heard the magically amplified voice of Parvati Patil cheer excitedly throughout the entire pitch. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, feeling uncomfortably warm despite the flurry of light snowflakes that came with the first snowfall of the year. He readjusted his position on his broom, wincing as the harsh wind whipped at his face.

He caught a flash of platinum blond hair zip past him and he shouted, "Merlin, Draco, just catch the snitch already so we can all go home!"

"I'm trying," Draco yelled back, clearly aggravated. "I can't see a damn thing with all this snow!"

Hadrian muttered under his breath, swooping down to where the quaffle passed between the two Gryffindor chasers. A perfectly aimed bludger caused Katie Bell to nearly fall off her broom and he quickly intercepted her pass to the other Gryffindor chaser he couldn't quite name.

He curled the quaffle tightly into his chest and abruptly turned around on his broom, weaving through the other players on the pitch as he made his way towards the goal. He shot Weasley a look of utter contempt before he wound his arm back and launched the quaffle through the air. The quaffle just barely grazed Weasley's leg as he attempted to block it from sailing through the goal hoop, but the sheer amount of force behind the throw sent him tumbling down the goal post on his rickety broom.

A loud cheer rang through the stands and Hadrian grinned as the announcer announced another ten points for Slytherin with great reluctance. He whistled innocently as he ignored the dirty look Weasley shot him when he finally managed to pull himself upright on his broom and send the quaffle back into the play.

"What's that by the south corner? It looks like Alexander Potter has spotted the snitch!"

Hadrian snapped his head back towards the pitch and his eyes quickly zeroed in on Draco tailing Potter's broom. He growled under his breath and shot off in their direction, ignoring the increasingly thick blanket of snow that began to cover the entire pitch.

"Blaise! Try to knock him off balance," Hadrian ordered as he flew past the Italian boy, silently urging his broom to go faster. "He can't catch the snitch if he's trying to hang on for his life."

"Yes, sir, Captain, sir!" Blaise saluted him, swinging the beaters bat in his arm as he flew closely behind his friend.

Hadrian could barely see Blaise through his peripheral vision as he flew towards Draco and Potter, hastily dodging the stray bludger that whizzed towards him. He was just about to reach the two when suddenly the golden snitch flew towards him.

He blinked for a moment as the snitch hovered in front of his nose, and he resisted the urge to automatically grab it in his hands, knowing fully well that snitchnipping would immediately cause their team to forfeit the game.

He barely had a second to think, however, since Alexander Potter suddenly slammed into him with full force, sending both of them spiraling off their brooms. Hadrian quickly reached up to grab his broom with his arm and hissed loudly as he felt his other arm being yanked nearly out of his socket. He gritted his teeth together when he glanced down and saw Alexander Potter desperately digging his fingers into his forearm, struggling immensely as he dangled in midair.

Hadrian shook his arm and barked, "Get the fuck off of me, Potter."

"I can't," The other boy wheezed, "My broom fell to the ground."

"Why don't you go join it," He sneered, shaking his arm in a slight panic as his other hand began slipping around his broom. "Let go, Potter, or else you're going to drag both of us to our deaths."

"I'd say that's the perfect way for me to go. Might as well eliminate your evil from this world, while I'm at it." Alexander grunted, gripping his arm even tighter as he felt himself slightly slide further down. "Rather poetic, don't you think?"

Hadrian couldn't help but feel relieved when he heard the sound of a whistle blow only a second later and someone else from the Gryffindor team came to hoist Alexander Potter on the back of their broom. Hadrian glared furiously at him after he managed to pull himself back onto his own broom without any assistance once the other boy's deadweight had been removed.

Alexander Potter grinned at him, "Thanks for the lift, Riddle. If you hadn't saved my life, I might not have gotten to enjoy this moment," He unfurled his fist and revealed the golden snitch sitting in his open palm.

Hadrian struggled to control the flash of rage that suddenly tore across his features, forcing him to purse his lips together in a thin line to prevent the stream of curses he wanted to hurl at the idiot.

"In a turn of events, Alexander Potter catches the snitch and heroically earns one-hundred-and fifty points for Gryffindor! Gryffindor wins, 290 to 250!"

Hadrian clenched his jaw as he flew back towards the ground in silent fury, ignoring the cheers of the Gryffindor students in the stands. He shoved his way into the Slytherin locker room, brushing off Blaise's reassurances.

He marched over to where Draco was sullenly pulling off his gloves and slammed his locker shut, cutting off his friend's protests with a sharp glare. "What the hell was that, Draco?" He demanded to know. "How could you just let him win?"

"I didn't let him do anything!" Draco huffed, waving his wand to open his locker once more. Hadrian forced the door shut again and the blond reluctantly raised his eyes up to meet Hadrian's unwavering dark stare.

"What is your problem?" Draco hissed. "It's not like I didn't try to win."

"We were up over a hundred points, Draco!" Hadrian gritted out, "I all but handed you a victory on a silver platter and you tossed it aside! You threw the game!"

"Alright, let's calm down," Blaise tried to interrupt, "I'm sure Draco didn't throw the game, it was rather difficult to see anything out there."

"I threw the game?" Draco reared back, ignoring their other friend completely. He shoved his hands against Hadrian's chest and pushed him back angrily, "You're the one who ruined our chances!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Hadrian snarled, "You're the one who couldn't catch the snitch!"

"I'm not talking about the fucking match!" Draco exploded, shaking his head and shoving his way through the locker room toward the exit.

Hadrian quickly followed behind him, "What are you talking about, then? Go on, spit it out!"

Draco turned around abruptly and narrowed his eyes at his best friend. "I meant you had the chance to let Potter fall to his death," He whispered harshly, keeping his voice low in the presence of the everyone else inside the locker room, "And you let him almost drag you to an untimely death instead."

"What was I supposed to do?" Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Kick him aside while the entire school watched me deliberately let him die?"

"Perhaps you don't want to actually kill him," Draco shrugged, "You've done worse. I know you could've easily made it look like an accident. You had the perfect chance to get rid of our problems once and for all, and you blew the entire mission," He stepped closer sneered, "Maybe you threw the game."

"How dare you!" Hadrian pulled out his wand in a snap, but Draco was already turning on his heel and pushing his way through the doors.

Hadrian made a move to follow right after him, but Blaise grabbed his shoulder and hauled him back with a frown.

"Let him go, mate," Blaise advised. "We're all a little upset and high-strung right now, I'm sure he didn't mean what he said."

Hadrian grunted, but said nothing, turning back to walk to his locker and violently pulling the door open. He began to strip off his quidditch shoulder guards and shook his head, "The nerve of him–"

"I know what will take your mind off of it," Blaise smirked, clapping him on the back, "Higgs managed to smuggle in an entire barrel of firewhisky and butterbeer from Hogsmeade last weekend on a dare. We were planning to throw a little victory party in the common room after the match."

Hadrian furrowed his brows, "We don't throw victory parties when we lose, Blaise."

"Consider it a miserable pity party, then," Blaise waved his hand unconcernedly. He steered his friend towards the door and promised, "Don't worry, once the party starts, I swear you won't even remember the match by the end of the night."

They exited the locker room after a few more minutes, neither of them noticing the thin, fleshy-colored string that lingered in the corner of the locker room.

Draco Malfoy muttered some choice words under his breath as he pushed open the doors to the library, silently thanking Merlin it was more than empty on a Saturday evening. He made his way to his usual table by the east window that overlooked the grounds and suddenly stopped in his tracks, his gaze narrowing as he caught sight of the petite curly-haired witch sitting at his table.

He cleared his throat, feeling his jaw tick in annoyance when she glanced up at him, obviously irritated at being disturbed, before her eyes slowly widened in recognition. He felt his cheeks flush slightly as she stared at him in silence for a moment before shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. "Malfoy, I thought you'd be in the dungeons, partying it up with the other Slytherins."

"I'm not in the mood," He reluctantly admitted, frowning at her, "How did you even know about the party?"

"Theo told me," She said offhandedly, flipping a page in her textbook.

"Of course," He rolled his eyes. "Theo."

She slowly shut the book in front of her and raised her curious eyes up to stare at him, "Is there a problem, Draco?"

"You're sitting in my seat, Granger." He said haughtily, throwing her a glare for good measure, "Move."

"Can't you just sit across from me for one day," She sighed. "Or find somewhere else to sit, there's literally no one else in here. Even Madam Pince isn't here, you could probably even go sit in her office if you want."

"No, I want that seat," He crossed his arms across his chest, "Because it's my seat."

She leaned her head back as though she were begging the heavens for more patience. "Dear Merlin, you are such a child," She huffed, sliding out of the chair to his immense surprise.

He grinned triumphantly, chalking that up as at least one win for the day. He quickly made his way over to the chair she vacated and sat down before she could change her mind. He barely had the chance to savor his petty victory when a curtain of thick brown curls brushed across his cheek as she easily slid into his lap.

"W-What are you doing?" He managed to say once his initial shock had worn off. He felt his stomach tighten as she wiggled around a bit, adjusting herself to sit more comfortably on his lap.

"I'm sitting," She said nonchalantly, turning her attention back to her book on the table.

"Why are you sitting here?" He asked, his mouth suddenly going incredibly dry.

"So that we can share the seat," She tsked, as though it were obvious. "This way we're both happy."

"I'm not happy sharing my seat!" He snapped. She moved around on his lap again and he groaned, grabbing her hips to keep her in place, "Can you stop doing that?"

"Are you sure you're not happy?" She laughed, turning around to look at dark blush that stained his cheeks.

"I said stop moving!" He demanded, briefly contemplating the idea of just shoving her off the chair entirely. "Or else!"

She raised an eyebrow, "Or else what?" She brushed her thumb against the edge of his tightly clenched jaw and taunted, "What are you going to do? Ignore me to death?"

He stared at her through half-lidded eyes for a long moment, the only sound around them at all coming from their intense breathing. All of a sudden, he surged forward before she could even blink, pushing her back onto the table and trapping her against his tall frame.

Hermione gasped, but the sound was quickly muffled as he captured her lips with his own, yanking her shirt out from where it was tucked into her skirt in the same movement. She closed her eyes as he desperately slipped his hand underneath the thin fabric, splaying his fingers across her smooth skin.

She wrapped her legs around his trim waist, pulling him impossibly closer as he kissed his way down her throat. He nipped at a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and she moaned, "Draco."

He froze abruptly, and Hermione opened her eyes, meeting his stormy grey gaze. She blinked, bewildered. "Why did you stop?" She frowned, feeling him start to let go of his tight grip on her hips. He slowly pulled his body off of hers and stood stiffly between her legs, prompting her to prop herself up on her arms and sit up again. "What's the matter?" She asked.

"We can't do this," Draco mumbled, shaking his head, "I–I can't do this."

She watched him silently for a brief moment before tilting her head to the side and pressing further, "Why not? You were perfectly fine doing it last year."

"That was–" He trailed off, unable to come up with a suitable argument. He averted his gaze, fixating on one of the cracks in the floor, "I don't want to."

She pushed his chest back with an accusing finger, "Liar. You started it; you can't possibly say you didn't want to."

"You provoked me!" He argued.

"I did," Hermione shrugged, unconcerned by his dismissive attitude. "So what?" He sputtered for a second and she leaned towards him, her dark brown eyes heating up again as she whispered, "I'd do it again."

"Stop!" He stepped away from her and ran a hand through his hair, "You can't just–you can't do this."

"And why not?"

"Because you left," He finally whirled around to face her with a scowl. He shook his head, "You turned your back on our side. On all your friends," He paused for a second and added almost inaudibly, "You walked away from me."

She dropped her gaze to the floor, ashamed by her brief lapse in judgement. "I'm sorry," She bit her lip, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't even know I was capable of such a thing."

He scoffed, "You acted like I was a monster, how did you think I would feel?" His gaze flickered angrily over to her, "Like I would ever hurt you."

"You did," Hermione pointed out quietly, letting herself down from the table. "You called me a mudblood for years. You made fun of me for everything from my hair to my heritage. Even when I sliced my hand open to show you that we still bled the same, you didn't change," She stared down at her hands as she began to pack up her things, "I didn't know I meant anything to you. Let alone I was significant enough to hurt the Great Draco Malfoy," She sneered.

"You wouldn't even admit I was your boyfriend," He snapped. "Don't you think that was the slightest bit hurtful? We'd been fooling around for almost a year at that point."

"Exactly," She tucked her books back into her bag. "Fooling around. Not once did you actually ask me for anything more than a tumble in the broom closet. You don't get to play the victim here, Malfoy."

"You're telling me if I had asked you out on a proper date, you wouldn't have turned your back on all of us last spring?" He saw her hesitate slightly and he snorted, "See? It wouldn't have mattered. You would've left anyways. Because you're so loyal to Potty and Weasel."

"I didn't want to walk away from you, Draco," She admitted after a beat of silence. "I just needed some time to think."

"About what?"

"Whether you were worth sacrificing my entire heritage and most of my values for."

He stilled upon hearing her words and tried to appear disinterested as he probed, "And what did you decide?"

"I came back, for you. I wanted you. I wanted this." She revealed, glancing up at him finally. But soon her eyes shuttered, and she turned away from him, beginning to walk towards the doors. Her words were barely above a whisper as she said, "And now I'm here, on your side, but you still haven't changed. I don't regret my decision, but I think I regret you."

Hadrian Riddle was drunk.

Blaise had done his job a little too well and now he could barely remember his own name as he sprawled out on the couch in their common room, half-heartedly engaging in a heated discussion about brooms with a few of his teammates from the quidditch squad.

Blaise had stayed around for a solid few hours, ensuring Hadrian had gotten properly smashed and was enjoying himself. However, eventually the Italian's innate Casanova-nature won out and he excused himself to go charm yet another girl from their house into his bed. Hadrian tried to see where he had gone off to, but he wasn't able to find Blaise in the sea of faces crowded into their common room.

Now that he was thinking about it, he didn't see any of his friends nearby. Neville had been keeping Destiny company earlier, glaring darkly at anyone who dared to scowl at the lone Gryffindor in their common room. Draco hadn't even bother to show up to the party, as far as he knew.

Hadrian scowled at the mere thought of that git. He took a sip of his drink, frowning even more when he realized it was already empty. He sighed, turning his head to the side and pointing at Bletchley, "Go get me another drink."

Suddenly, a shadow fell over his line of vision and he squinted in confusion as the empty glass was plucked out of his hands. As his eyes adjusted to the change in light, a wide smile appeared at his lips and he hurried to stand up from the couch. "Daphne!" He exclaimed, almost falling over in his haste to get up.

She pursed her lips, resisting the urge to smile at his inebriated state. A small tuft of hair was sticking straight up from the back of his head, and she gently smoothed it down before setting his glass back onto the coffee table. "I think you've had enough to drink, Hadrian," She murmured. "Let's get you to bed."

"Did you hear that?" Hadrian stared at the rest of his teammates with a smug smirk, "She wants to take me to bed."

Daphne smiled tightly at the lascivious whoops and amused howls of laughter as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, "Isn't she pretty?"

"Gorgeous, mate," One of the older boys winked at her, not bothering to hide the way his eyes raked her up and down. "I don't suppose you're the sharing type?"

Before Daphne could even wrinkle her nose and deign that disgusting statement with an equally rude reply, Hadrian had already left her side and slammed the boy into the ground, shoving his wand into his teammate's throat with an expression of utter malice twisting at his handsome features.

"What the fuck did you say?" Hadrian hissed. He whispered something under his breath and pressed his wand into the boy's temple. Suddenly the other boy's mouth dropped open shock and Daphne was sure if he could scream, he would've woken up half the castle. She gritted her teeth together and stepped forward, pulling Hadrian back until he was forced to let go of the stupid kid.

"Leave it, Hadrian. Let's just go, alright?" She pleaded, before he could do any permanent damage.

"I think Vaisey wants to apologize to you, Daphne," He turned to look at her with a dark smile, nudging his boot into the side of his teammate's body as he removed the silencing spell. "Well, get on with it then."

Daphne swallowed hard as the seventh year wiped the blood from his face before whispering, "I apologize for speaking to you so improperly, Miss. Greengrass."

Daphne nodded at him, trying to hide the way her shoulders trembled at the entire scene.

"Oh, and before I forget, Vaisey, you'll be sitting out for the next four matches. Can't have you playing Keeper if you have a broken hand, after all."

"But Riddle, his hand looks fine," One of the other players pointed out, frowning in confusion.

"I forgot," Hadrian pretended to sigh, turning around and viciously crushing the hand that Vaisey had been using to reach for his wand, causing him to bow over in pain and burst into silent tears again.

Daphne stiffened and tugged on Hadrian's arm, attempting to get him away from the seventh year. Hadrian clenched his jaw but allowed himself to be pulled away, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist as she quickly tried to walk them down towards their rooms.

"What was that?" She demanded to know in a low voice as she guided him down the stairs. "How much did you have to drink?"

"Blaise was keeping track," Hadrian furrowed his brows as he tried to remember. He burst out laughing and whispered conspiratorially, "But I don't think he knows how to count past eleven."

"Watch your step," Daphne warned him as they finally reached their floor. He straightened up abruptly and she frowned, "Hadrian, what's wrong–"

She inhaled sharply as he turned on her, pressing her back into the wall beside the stairs and caging her in with his arms. He stared down at her with piercing green eyes so intense that she shivered, even pressed up against him. He brushed his lips gently across hers and her eyelids fluttered at the sensation.

"You smell so fucking good," Hadrian mumbled, pulling her closer as he pressed open-mouthed kisses into her neck. She felt him sigh against her skin, "Like roses."

He threaded a hand into her silky golden hair, and she gasped in surprise as he kissed her, brutally slanting his lips against hers. He was frantic, running his hands up her curves and desperately trying to feel the warmth of her skin against his.

She found herself feeling dizzy as she kissed him back, barely registering as he slipped his hands underneath her skirt. He gently traced the inside of her thigh and pushed the fabric higher, causing her to pull away from him for a second.

"Hadrian," She breathed, shaking her head, "We can't–not here."

"Why not?" He smiled at her, playing with the buttons on her shirt, "Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do–"

His eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn't identify, and he surged down to kiss her, nearly bruising her lips with the intensity behind it. Suddenly his hands were everywhere, pulling her closer as he nuzzled the crook of her neck. "What?" He murmured, "You said you love me, don't you?"

Daphne forced herself to take a deep breath before she found the strength to push him away, and she narrowed her eyes at him, "You're drunk. If you think I'm going to let you touch me in the middle of the hall like some common whore, then you're a fool too," She walked ahead of him towards their room and wandlessly fixed her appearance. "Let's go."

He frowned as he watched her walk away for a moment, quickly jogging behind her to slip into their room before she slammed the door shut. She dragged him towards the washroom and forced him to sit on the cold stone floor while she dug through his trunk for a sobering potion.

When she finally retrieved the small blue vial, she returned to the washroom and rolled her eyes as she saw her boyfriend staring up at the ceiling with a lopsided grin on his face. She uncorked the potion and took great pleasure in shoving it down his throat, making sure he swallowed it before stepping away from him. He immediately began to gag and made a choking noise as he hurriedly bent his head over the toilet.

Daphne walked back out into their room without a word, closing the bathroom door behind her as she began to dress for bed. Then, she slipped into the plushy armchair by the window and waited as the retching in the bathroom finally stopped. She summoned a book from the small bookshelf in the room and began to read, forcing herself to focus on the page as the sink in the bathroom eventually turned off and the rush of water faded away.

When she heard the door open, she slowly placed her bookmark in her book and closed it in her lap. She stood up from her seat and gracefully crossed the room, watching Hadrian blink in confusion as the potion began to kick in. She stopped in front of him and cupped his cheek, staring into his dark eyes softly as she asked, "Feeling better?"

"I think so," He nodded, scratching the back of his neck uneasily. He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "What–"

Daphne slapped him. Hard.

He winced, raising a hand to touch the bright red mark that bloomed across his cheek as he tried to collect himself. "I'm sorry," He whispered. "I deserved that."

She nodded, too angry at him to trust her own words.

He walked towards their bed and unceremoniously threw himself onto the heavy emerald green sheets, staring at the dark waters of the Black Lake as it lapped up against his window.

There was an excruciatingly long moment of silence before either of them spoke. Surprisingly, it was Daphne who finally caved and rubbed her temples in frustration before blurting out, "I just don't know why you've been acting like this lately, Hadrian. What's gotten into you?"

She walked towards their bed when he didn't respond, thinking he had already fallen asleep, but his eyes were wide open, albeit rather unfocused. She reached out to touch his arm and he scooted over on the bed, patting the space beside him with a hoarse, "Please?"

Against her best judgement, she sighed and smoothed down the sheets, settling down onto the bed beside him. He didn't make a move to curl her into his chest as he usually did, but simply laid there with his eyes closed, barely even grazing her pinky.

After a while, he opened his eyes again and turned to face her with a wry smile, "Do you think I'm destined to die?"

Daphne blinked. "I think we all die someday," She replied, fully aware that was not the aim of his question.

He propped himself up on his elbow and stared down at her, taking in the way her golden hair spread on his sheets like a halo and the way the sheets caressed her smooth skin. He swallowed hard, "I don't know if I'm going to survive this war, Daphne."

She rolled onto her side to face him in alarm, and with a start she realized she was finally able to place that unknown emotion in his eyes. She had seen the expression on other people, but in all the years she had known him, she had never seen that true, aching fear in his eyes until now.

Daphne smoothed her hand over his cheek, hiding a smile as he jerked back initially as though he were expecting her to slap him, again. "No," She murmured, "I don't think you're destined to die. And certainly, not at the hands of Alexander Potter."

Hadrian leaned his head back against the mattress, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. "We've made a lot of mistakes lately."

Daphne rested her head against his chest, fascinated by the even way it rose and fell with each breath he took. "No more mistakes, then," She decided. "It's time to get serious, we have an entire war to win."

"That's easier said than done," He laughed. "How are we going to win with half our side locked up in Azkaban?"

"Break them out of course," She smirked. "How hard could it be? You already learned how to do it once before third year."

"That was with the help of my father," Hadrian pointed out. "It wasn't like I single-handedly managed to take down an entire magical prison with the highest security measures in all of Europe."

"This time you'll have something better," Daphne promised. "This time, you'll have us."