A/N: Hi everyone. As you can see, I updated on time (surprise!). I honestly didn't think it would happen, but then I pounded two shots of espresso and got to work and viola! CH 14 was born. There's only 6 more(ish) chapters left in this entire series, so if you want to tell me how much you enjoy the story (or don't, that's cool too, ig)–the clock is ticking! Please let me know how you liked it, it really brightens my day when I'm down and inspires me to write a hell of a lot faster!

As always, leave a review/like and let me know what you think!

Enjoy!

Platform 9 ¾ [September 1st]

Draco Malfoy ran a hand through his hair as he stood at the edge of the platform, nearly flinching in surprise when he caught sight of the dark ink-colored strands that brushed over his forehead instead of his usual translucent blond.

"This is the stupidest idea we've ever come up with," Destiny mumbled to herself when she met his panicked stare. "We're fooling literally no one."

"It's not like we had much of a choice," Hermione shrugged, picking up her trunk and regarding him with a slight frown. "We needed an alibi for Hadrian. Blaise would have blown our cover within four seconds of spotting a pretty witch, and Neville was conveniently absent for the whole discussion." She shot Destiny a knowing look and the other witch pretended to whistle innocently at the unspoken accusation.

Draco almost jumped when he felt Daphne tug at his arm. She shot him an irritated glance, "Why are you standing so far away?" She took a step closer to him and hissed, "You look suspicious and awkward."

The Malfoy heir let out a quiet sigh, but then took another half step towards the pretty blonde.

She let out another huff of exasperation when he seemed to recoil away from her touch. "What is the matter with you, Draco? You practically grew up with Hadrian, and you can't even pretend to be him for a few hours? The Polyjuice does half the work for you," She rolled her eyes at him, "At least offer me your arm, you arse."

"I can't–" Draco objected automatically. "I have a girlfriend, Daphne–"

"Oh, I don't mind," Hermione chimed in. She walked past them onto the train and tried hard to hold in the laugh that threatened to spill out of her lips when she heard them quarreling all the way back to their usual compartment. "You know," She began, turning to gesture back at the pair as Blaise picked up her trunk and loaded it into the rack above their heads. "This is the most entertainment I've gotten in a while."

"Merlin, Draco," Daphne muttered under her breath, pushing her trunk into his hands, and taking a seat by the window. "I just said offer me your arm–it's not like I said grab my arse.

Quit being such a prude."

"Why do you two have to be so touchy-feely all the time?" Draco grunted, shoving her trunk onto the rack with an aggressive motion.

"Shall I recount the time I caught you and Hermione playing a disturbing game of strip-trivia over your NEWT flashcards in the library this summer?" Daphne shot back. "There are other rooms in the manor, you know. Like your own."

"You could have knocked," Hermione said nonchalantly, moving to sit beside Neville on the opposite side of the compartment.

"Yes, of course, because I'm the problem in this scenario, not you two swots," Daphne smiled sweetly, but it did nothing to mask her scathing tone.

"Hey, don't lump me in with her," Draco defended himself automatically. "I'm not a swot."

"Twenty galleons says it was Malfoy's idea," Neville snickered to Blaise.

Blaise eyed his friends with a calculating glint in his dark eyes, "You're on."

"Quit betting on us," Draco barked at them both. He plopped down onto the seat beside Hermione, absentmindedly dropping his head to kiss the top of her curls. His scowl deepened when she narrowly avoided his lips and took a different seat beside Daphne instead.

"Sorry," Hermione shrugged, sounding entirely unapologetic. "You're going to have to keep your hands to yourself while you're posing as Hadrian."

"This fucking sucks," Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back forcefully against the compartment seat. "Not only do I have to suffer through this entire train ride in this ugly shirt, now I have to do it without being able to touch my own girlfriend."

"Hey, I bought Hadrian that shirt at a county fair," Destiny frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And it's not like you had to wear it," Neville pointed out with a half grin. "Daphne laid out Hadrian's usual pretentious designer robes for you to wear, and you decided to–and I quote–'wear a bloody ridiculous shirt' just to spite him. You dug through his entire closet for that atrocity."

"It's not an atrocity!" Destiny snapped, but her protests were drowned out by the snickers in the room.

Draco glanced down at the brightly colored tie-dye button up with a grimace, suddenly regretting his decision to embarrass his best friend. He had forgotten he would have to ultimately wear it on the train in the end, and it certainly wasn't doing any favors to his already cranky mood.

"Where is he, anyways?" Blaise raised an eyebrow, glancing around at his friends in confusion. "It's hard to believe he's going to miss our last train ride to Hogwarts. You know he's sentimental and shite."

"Draco's father came to the Manor this morning to talk to him about some important matter," Daphne frowned, biting her lip as she recalled the sharp knock on their bedroom door that morning. "Hadrian didn't say anything about it, just that he had to take care of something and that he'd see me at the castle."

"That's more information than I got," Draco snorted. "He sent me a note scribbled on a napkin with instructions to pose as him using Polyjuice from the potions cabinet."

"I got a kiss goodbye, bet you didn't get that either," Daphne taunted him, even as the blond shot her the most disdainful look he could muster up.

She had always thought Hadrian's sharp features made him seem like an intimidating wizard to be around, but now as she watched Draco shift around uncomfortably wearing a disguise identical to her fiancé, she realized Hadrian's darkly handsome looks had nothing to do with his presence.

Daphne smiled to herself. Somehow it was reassuring to know that the magnetic pull she had felt towards Hadrian since the beginning was all him.

"What are you reading?" Hermione nudged her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. The curly-haired witch peered down at the bridal magazine Daphne had propped open and she frowned, "You're planning for the wedding already?"

Daphne flipped a page and rolled her eyes. "I've been planning since the night we got engaged. Hadrian wants to get married on the summer solstice after we graduate–something about solidifying our magical bond with the power of the sun," She waved her hand dismissively, "Or something equally as ridiculous as that." She gave Hermione an exasperated glance, "You know how he is."

"You've been planning over a year in advance?" The witch gulped, and her eyes widened. "How big is this wedding supposed to be?"

"Well," Daphne began slowly, "Neither of us really wanted a large ceremony, but that's practically impossible given who we both are. My mother–and the rest of the wizarding world–expects us to have a big society wedding."

Draco nodded in agreement, "The Daily Prophet is going to have a field day with this. It's not every day the Dark Lord and the heiress of one of the most elite families in our world ties the knot. I think we can probably even talk Witch Weekly into a seven-page spread on your nuptials. It'll be excellent press."

"Perfect, just what every witch dreams of as a little girl–'excellent press'," Daphne muttered in a flat tone, aggressively turning a page in her magazine.

"I've never seen a wizarding marriage," Hermione commented lightly. "Are they more fun than muggle weddings?"

Destiny lifted a shoulder, "They're alright, but sometimes the bonding ceremony is a pain to sit through.

Hermione frowned, "The bonding ceremony? What's that?"

"Wizarding marriages are usually for life, you see," Neville started to explain, brushing aside a piece of hair that had escaped his carefully tousled hairstyle. "Divorce is practically impossible, and annulments are only provided in the direst cases. In order to enforce this lifelong commitment, most ceremonies have a special type of bond that goes along with the wedding."

"What kinds of bonds are there?" Hermione cocked her head to the side as a curious expression flitted over her face.

Daphne stretched out her arms with a soft yawn, "There's the basic, legally binding ones that most couples tend to use. Some other bonds also include fidelity contracts, protection clauses, and sometimes even fertility charms to help the pair conceive."

"What about Cor Unum?" Draco mentioned casually, crossing his arms behind his neck. "My parents were considering that one."

"Are you serious?" Daphne blinked at him in surprise. "I haven't heard of a Cor Unum bond being used since the last century. It's absolutely archaic."

"What's that?" Hemione glanced at her friend, "Why do people not choose that one anymore?"

"It's a bond rooted in blood magic, instead of the superficial layer of your magical core," Blaise piped up. "It's on the most extreme side of the bonding spectrum, since it basically ties a couple together with mind, body, and soul. It means one heart–literally. One beating heart, shared between the two." He shuddered, "My mother has gotten married more times than I can count, and she's never considered a Cor Unum bond."

"I don't know," Destiny chirped, "It sounds kind of romantic. Souls destined for each other and souls that would die for each other. It's right out of a fairytale."

"We have very different versions of fairytales," Neville shot her a panicked look. "I think you're forgetting the part where it's one–singular–heart. As in, if something were to happen to me, it would also happen to you," He shook his head. "So impractical. Imagine someone slices me up in a mission and you start bleeding out in the middle of one of Lady Malfoy's tea parties."

"Relax," She suppressed a laugh, "I didn't say we should use a Cor Unum bond. Besides, I think that bond has been outlawed since the 1900s, anyways. Blood magic–especially something that dark–isn't legal under this administration, remember?"

"So, I'm assuming you won't be using Cor Unum, then?" Hermione turned to look at Daphne.

Daphne laughed, "Merlin, no. We decided on a rather simple bond–Amor Aeternus," She paused and admitted, "Well, I wanted to pick an even simpler one, but Hadrian insisted on the protection charms that Amor Aeternus provides me with."

"No fidelity clauses?" Blaise questioned, wagging his brows. "I suppose that means you'll have to really keep an eye on him, huh, Daph?"

Daphne studied her nails, "I'm not too worried."

"I'm just letting you know that if you ever need rescuing from your marriage in twenty years, just give me the word and I'll be happy to whisk you away to my bachelor pad in Italy, princessa," Blaise told her with a proud smirk. "Of course, only if you're alright with the occasional houseguest of mine. I'm planning on being the fittest silver-fox to walk this earth."

"That sounds a little ambitious for someone who can't even get Ginevra Weasley to commit to a relationship," Daphne hummed innocently.

Draco frowned, cutting off the inevitable protest from Blaise. "Wait. Am I supposed to threaten to slit his throat for that comment? What would Hadrian do?"

"Probably toss me out the moving train," Blaise muttered under his breath.

Hermione stiffened, glancing down at her watch. "Speaking of Hadrian, we should probably get to that Head students meeting we have with McGonagall before we have to meet with the prefects later."

The blond groaned. "So typical of Hadrian. He's off gallivanting across town with my father, probably painting the floor with some poor bloke's blood while I have to deal with the administrative paperwork and meetings," He rose up from his seat with a scowl, "He's officially in the running to be the worst Head Boy ever."

"You're telling me that the Black family used to live here?" Hadrian ran his gaze up the cobweb-covered spiral bannister that led to the multiple stories above in the infamous Black Townhouse. "This place is a shitehole."

"It didn't always look like this," Lucius rolled his eyes, tugging open the door to the basement. He curled his lip in disgust at the sight of the thin layer of dust that covered his hand when he pulled it away from the doorknob. "Believe it or not, it used to be the site of many societal balls and debutante opening seasons."

"Right," Hadrian skeptically eyed the stone steps that led downstairs. He cleared his throat, "Be honest–did you lure me down here to murder me?"

"Rest assured, I have better things to do with my day," Lucius pursed his lips into a thin line as he started to make his way down the stairs. "Although I did expect this house to be in better condition, since I was told the Order used to use it for their meetings," He paused to whisper a spell to light up the rest of the room. "You'd think they would get a house-elf in here to clean up after themselves. I seem to have forgotten what heathens they were."

"Why are we here?" Hadrian rubbed his temples in annoyance, feeling an uncomfortable chill ghosting over the back of his neck. He shivered. "I'm missing the train ride for this, and I'm quite sure Draco is doing a terrible job posing as me for my alibi. This better be important, Lucius."

"I can assure you, it's worth your attention," The elder wizard remarked dryly. He stepped around one of the many boxes in the room and frowned. "When Narcissa was inaugurated into the Wizengamot, one of the first things she did was go through the property archives."

"Fascinating," Hadrian felt his eyes water as he held back a sneeze from the musty air. "Why does that matter?"

"She was able to track down the ancestry clauses to the property records of some old pureblood families that were completely wiped out during the war," Lucius explained through gritted teeth. "There was always a clear path that explained how each property would be passed down through the generations…until there wasn't."

"Point," Hadrian snapped.

"There were a handful of properties like this one that simply seemed to disappear. Endless centuries of records seemingly vanished overnight," Lucius revealed. "Narcissa sent her assistant to do some digging in the archives a few weeks ago, and it turns out the records didn't disappear. They were simply sealed off. Hidden from prying eyes."

Hadrian was about to demand an explanation when Lucius's words finally clicked. His eyes widened, "The Ministry…." He licked his suddenly dry lips. "The Order…. are you saying what I think you're saying, Lucius?"

The Malfoy patriarch nodded tightly. "They've been stealing the old family estates and using them as safehouses for their own people, or to house similar unauthorized activities." He gestured around the room, "This townhouse was used as the Order Headquarters for a while, but there was no paperwork proving they were able to legally use this space."

Hadrian crossed his arms over his chest, "Perhaps Sirius gave them permission. It wouldn't surprise me that the traitor kept his friends all set up in a cushy headquarters even while they let him rot in prison for twelve years."

Lucius shook his head, "I thought the same thing–until Narcissa tracked down the paperwork. This property was passed down to Regulus Black–Sirius's brother. Sirius wouldn't have had the rights to give someone else the property, even if he tried."

"So, the Order has been illegally capturing properties under everyone's noses?" Hadrian clenched his jaw, "What else?"

The older wizard faltered, "What do you–"

"While this is certainly another handful of dirt in the Order's grave, I don't think you would've brought me here when a letter explaining the situation would have sufficed." He took a step closer to the other wizard and his eyes narrowed. "What aren't you telling me, Lucius?"

Lucius Malfoy sighed, sagging his shoulders down in resignation. "Since Regulus has already passed, people assumed the property passed down to Sirius. They were wrong. Before he died, Regulus willed the property to his favorite cousin–Narcissa Black."

"Another summer home for your family, how lovely," Hadrian let out a sharp laugh. "Why is it significant?"

Lucius lifted up a box in the back of the room and set it on a nearby wobbly table. "Narcissa was able to find the townhouse and go through some of the rooms, cataloguing the damages and the furniture and whatnot."

"What did she find, Lucius?" Hadrian arched a brow. "I'd advise against trying to hide anything from me, especially when you know it's rightfully mine."

Lucius paused as his hand reached halfway into the box. His shoulders stiffened with unease, "How did you–" He pulled out the rusted-over locket and dropped it onto the table with a loud clang. "How did you know?"

Hadrian chuckled humorlessly. "I felt it the second I walked into this house." He walked over to the table, hesitantly running his fingertips over the locket that had once belonged to Salazar Slytherin.

And his father.

His eyes closed as the dark magic thrummed under his touch, sinking into his skin. "I was wondering if you would ever bring it up during this dreadful house tour."

The blond opened his mouth as if to say something, but then abruptly closed it. Eventually, his eyes tightened, and he hissed, "If you knew about your father's horcrux all along, then why wouldn't you say something? Was this some sort of test?"

"You were my father's most loyal supporter," Hadrian spoke evenly, opening his eyes to meet the elder wizard's furious gaze. He began to poke through the other contents of the box. "I wanted to see how much of that loyalty has transferred over."

"And if I hadn't said a word?" Lucius challenged.

Hadrian studied a watch he had pulled out of the box with a critical stare. "Then your death would've made my soul home to a very nice watch," He shrugged after a second. He noticed the horrified expression the other man wore, and he sighed, "Relax. You're so easy to wind up that turning you into a watch horcrux is actually fitting."

"I don't understand your generation's sense of humor," Lucius growled. "In what world is threatening to make a horcrux over someone's death an amusing joke?"

"Obviously not in your world," Hadrian rolled his eyes. "Anyways," He cleared his throat, ignoring the affronted look Lucius shot him. "I assume the fact that you showed this to me means that you want me to do something about it."

"This has the power to bring your father back," Lucius began tentatively. "What should we do?"

Hadrian let his eyes fall on the locket once more. "We're going to destroy it."

The elder wizard let out what suspiciously sounded like a relieved breath.

Hadrian turned to him with an incredulous glance, "Was that supposed to be a test?" He snorted, "Did you really think I would give up everything I've worked so hard for these past three years?" He clapped a hand on Lucius's back, "What we've worked so hard for?"

"You're very fickle, like a toddler." Lucius scoffed. Something in his voice softened as he continued, "When you killed Tom, it crushed you, Hadrian. You may have all his power now, but I can see it in your eyes every time you sit behind his desk," Lucius swallowed hard. "I know you probably don't realize it, but in some ways, you miss him. He made you who you are."

Hadrian ran a hand over his tense jaw. "People are attached to a lot of memories that only cause them pain," He whispered, staring down at the locket with unblinking eyes. "He had a part in making me who I am today, yes," He spoke quietly. "But he defines my past, not my future. This," He stretched his hand over the locket and gently picked it up, "This defines my future. I define it now." He nodded to himself, "I made a promise to your family years ago, Lucius. I promised that this was our world now, and I'm afraid I don't like to disappoint your wife."

Lucius felt his lips quirk up into a slight smile. "Then there's probably something else you should know."

Hadrian crinkled his brows, making a polite gesture for him to continue.

"Your father, as I'm sure you're aware, didn't stop at one horcrux." Lucius held up a hand and began to count on his fingers, "I only knew of a few. Diary. Ring. Salazar's Locket. There's a cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, and if the pattern is consistent, I suspect there's an object belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw as well. Your father talked about making his familiar into a horcrux a year or so before his demise, but I don't believe he ever got the opportunity to carry out his plans."

Hadrian smirked, holding up a hand to begin counting down on his fingers. "I destroyed the diary in my second year…on accident, but still. Snape assured me the ring has been taken care of–and I have no reason to doubt him on this matter. Your theory about the object belonging to Ravenclaw is correct. She had a diadem that I ensured landed in Dumbledore's hands last year."

"You what?"

Hadrian repeated himself slowly. "There's nobody that wants to destroy that diadem more than Potter and Dumbledore do."

"Alright," Lucius let out a shaky exhale. "If we destroy the locket today, then that leaves us with the cup."

Hadrian stilled. "I know you were in possession of the Diary, so you knew about that already. Snape must've told you about the ring. Narcissa told you about the locket when she found it," He paused and his back stiffened, "How did you know the Hufflepuff object was a cup, Lucius?"

"I–"

"How long have you had it?' Hadrian rephrased the question, feeling his hand instinctively curl around his wand. "I don't believe it was a lucky guess."

Lucius averted his gaze to the floor. "Not me." He choked out. "Bellatrix. It's in her vault. After Narcissa found the locket, she spoke to Bellatrix and–"

"Why does she still have it, Lucius?" Hadrian closed his eyes in frustration, "She's the only one crazy enough to actually attempt to bring him back."

"She wouldn't do that," The blond tried to say, but the uncertainty in his voice rang clear. "She loves you like a son, Hadrian," He reassured the younger wizard. "She would never betray you."

"The problem is she might not even see it as a betrayal. She might think she's doing us a favor." Hadrian angrily adjusted his collar. A dark thought occurred to him, and he gripped the edge of the table. "If she's had it this entire time–Merlin, what if she's already tried to bring him back?"

"Bellatrix doesn't know enough about the delicate intricacies of dark magic to even begin that process," Lucius insisted. "She wouldn't have–"

"Well, she's had nearly three years to figure it out," Hadrian snapped. "Get the cup from her vault, Lucius," He ordered. "Then bring her to me."

"Aren't you going to Hogwarts?" The Malfoy patriarch reminded him. "You can't get into her vault without her or Rodolphus. And I bet Rodolphus has no idea the thing is even in there. You need her alive, at least until we can retrieve the cup."

"Then get the cup now, and then bring her to the Manor," Hadrian threw his hands up, "I don't fucking care."

"No," Lucius shook his head, taking a step back when Hadrian raised his head to glare at him.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"If she suspects something, she might move the cup," Lucius explained hesitantly. "Then we'll never get it from her. You need to stay calm and act like nothing has happened until I can retrieve the cup. Go to school. Act like everything is fine."

"I can't act like everything is fine when Bella's unhinged enough to try to bring back my father–if she hasn't already tried it," Hadrian spat.

"You don't have a choice," Lucius retorted. He set a placating hand on Hadrian's shoulder, "You have to trust me, my lord. As of now, we don't even know if she realizes what she's been sitting on. She may know about your father's horcruxes, but she might not have pursued the opportunity to bring him back. I know it's hard to believe, but she loves you, Hadrian. I don't believe she would do that to you."

Hadrian shrugged off his hand. "Unfortunately, love and trust are very different things, Lucius." He ran a troubled hand through his hair and snarled, "But fine. I'll wait." He let out a heavy sigh, "I'm tired of being made a fool of by family. If she's even thought about bringing my father back using that cup, I'll make her wish for the days she was in Azkaban again."

"As Head Boy, you and Miss. Granger have access to a separate dormitory," Snape peered at the younger wizard sitting across from his desk. "Please use it wisely," He gritted out. "The head students have to set an example of exemplary behavior for the younger students."

"If this is your way of saying I can't torture the Gryffindor quidditch caption in the middle of my sitting room, consider the message received," Hadrian rolled his eyes, rubbing a tired hand over his face. It had been an exceptionally long day, and the last thing he needed right now was a talk from the headmaster about his new responsibilities. All he wanted to do was go to his new room and fall asleep on any moderately soft surface. "You don't have to worry. I doubt Granger would let me get blood on the carpets. She's a bit of a harpy when it comes to neatness, you know."

"Excellent," Snape forced out through clenched teeth. "I am also expected to tell you that overnight guests in your room are prohibited. You must not share your private dormitory password with anyone apart from Miss. Granger."

"You can tell me," Hadrian shrugged. "I will not be listening to you, however."

Snape resisted the impulse to pen an urgent letter to Cyrus Greengrass that very second. He let out an exaggerated huff. "Tell Miss. Greengrass that she is not to share the password with anyone either, then."

Hadrian smirked, "Alright. I should warn you; Draco has a knack for finding out information he certainly should not be privy to."

"I don't bloody care who has access to your common room," Snape finally snapped, setting aside the official school handbook he was reading from. He pressed his fingers to his temples. "Merlin, why did I even try?" He muttered under his breath. He leaned back in his seat, "Regardless, I will not be authorizing the houselves to move Miss. Greengrass's belongings to your dorm. It isn't proper."

"That's fine. I'll make a few third years do it–"

"You're Head Boy," Snape barked. "You cannot be using the younger students to move your fiancé's things into your room! Think about what kind of an example that's setting for their underdeveloped, pre-pubescent minds!"

Hadrian frowned. "You're right," He decided after a beat of silence. "I don't need them getting curious and rifling through her clothes, poking through her shite. They've probably never seen a witch's brasserie in their lives."

Snape blinked at the infuriating wizard. "Just get out," He sighed.

He eyed the drawer in his desk that held the emergency firewhiskey he knew Albus had kept hidden. He had a feeling he would need a whole cabinet if he was to deal with Hadrian Riddle for the rest of the year. "And don't send Draco under Polyjuice to complete your head duties again!" He called out as he watched the teenaged Dark Lord walk out of his office.

Slytherin Dormitory [September 15th]

Ginevra Weasley felt her wand slip out of her sweaty fingers and drop onto the floor with a soft clatter. Thankfully, there were too many spells launching across the room for anyone to notice her moment of weakness, but she felt her cheeks heat up with hot embarrassment regardless.

She had lost.

It was just a stupid practice duel with her classmate–but she had lost.

To Astoria, of all people.

A lock of dark red hair fell into her eyes, and she didn't bother to push it aside like she usually would. Instead, she used it as a shield against anyone's prying eyes as she bent down to retrieve her wand.

She was too slow, however.

Just as she wrapped her fingers around the familiar black wood, she saw someone lightly step onto the other end of her wand. It was hardly enough pressure to cause any damage to the wood, but Ginevra still gritted her teeth together in indignation.

She was about to start firing off some choice words when she dully registered the fine Italian leather the shoe was crafted from, obviously straight off the runway from Milan or belonging to some high fashion collection. Her chest tightened and she flicked her gaze up to see dark eyes that belonged to none other than Blaise Zabini.

He stared down at her haughtily before stepping away from her wand and offering her a hand. Ginevra frowned at the gesture, but reluctantly picked up her wand and slipped her hand into his, allowing him to pull her off the ground.

"Thanks," She mumbled under her breath, ducking her head to avoid his piercing stare. Her shoulders sank imperceptibly as she noticed Neville high-five Astoria on the other side of the room. It wasn't as though Astoria was an untalented witch by any means, but Ginevra had just expected to be the winner of their duel.

"Hurts to lose, doesn't it?" Blaise smirked, as though he had already guessed what she was thinking.

She shivered, unsure when he had gotten so close to her. His scathing words suddenly registered, and she blinked, involuntarily clenching her hand around her wand. "Astoria fought well. She deserved to win."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" The corner of his lips curved up into what could pass as a smile, "Astoria has had years of private tutoring and you really thought you could beat her in a duel?"

"It doesn't matter what I think," She retorted. "I don't care, it's just a silly practice round."

Blaise gave her a skeptical look but thankfully didn't argue with her. He walked over to stand at her other side and tilted his head, as though he were assessing her with his unnervingly sharp eyes.

"Your stance is all wrong," He finally said after a long beat of silence between them. She watched as he came closer and placed his hands on her shoulders, lightly pushing them back. She could feel the warmth from his touch spread over her skin through her thin blouse. Ginevra bit her lip as he raked his hand down her arm at an impossibly slow pace, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He loosely circled his fingers around her wrist and raised her arm up.

"Think of your wand as an extension of your arm," He suggested. "It might help you be more efficient with your wand movements."

Her breath caught in her throat as his other hand dropped to her hip and his fingers ghosted over her skin. He gently pulled her hip back towards him, placing her body at a different angle. "If you position yourself like this, you'll draw more power from your stance," He whispered. "It'll also allow you to switch from a defensive point to an offensive position more quickly."

She felt his lips brush against her ear as he pulled away from her, and Ginevra let out a relieved breath at the much-needed space now between them. Her eyes followed him as he walked back to the front of the common room and began to dismiss everyone, concluding that week's dueling lesson.

Her heart began to beat faster, and Ginevra barely noticed as the room began to clear around her. She continued to watch him with an unblinking stare as he chatted with some of their housemates and worked to put the common room furniture back in its usual place.

Another witch called for his attention and Ginevra's eyes narrowed as she caught the appreciative look in his eyes when he shamelessly smiled at the tart. Seemingly against her own volition, she felt herself march over to where they were standing.

The two seemed startled as she appeared in front of them rather suddenly, but Ginevra simply didn't have the patience for niceties anymore. She kept her eyes trained on the dark-haired Italian as she waved her hand towards the other girl and commanded, "Leave."

"But I–" The girl began to stutter, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

Ginevra turned to the girl with a raised eyebrow, as if just now acknowledging her presence. Her features hardened in displeasure as she recognized Evanna Rosier glaring back at her–of course it was her. They had been at each other's' throats since their first year. Ginevra had always won their petty battles, and she certainly didn't intend to give up her winning streak now.

She forced herself to smile sweetly at the girl in front of her, "Do I need to repeat myself, Rosier? I said to leave us."

Evanna Rosier gave her a dirty look but reluctantly scurried away, disappearing down the staircase like the rest of her housemates had earlier. As she let her gaze rake over the empty common room, she noticed Neville still adjusting the position of one of the couches by the fireplaces.

Ginevra cleared her throat and shot him a challenging look, causing him to glance up with an innocent smile.

Neville held up his hands in surrender. "Don't mind me," He said cheerfully, "I'm just getting my bag and then I'll be out of your hair, don't worry. Enjoy your…talk."

Blaise watched the exchange with amused eyes as he leaned back against a desk he had pushed against the wall at the start of their weekly practice. Eventually, Neville disappeared down the steps to their private rooms and they were finally alone.

Blaise crossed his arms across his chest, "Can I help you with something, Weasley?"

Ginevra felt what little patience she had remaining evaporate completely at the sound of his callous tone. She could feel her fingertips nearly spark with her angry magic as she demanded to know, "How long do you plan to punish me, Zabini?"

"Punish you?" He repeated. The corners of his lips quirked up, "Now why would I want to do that?"

"Look," She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples, "Whatever game you're trying to play with me…it won't work. Ignoring me won't change anything."

He raised an eyebrow, "I wasn't aware I was playing a game at all."

"Really?" She drew out the word, putting a hand on her hip, "Evanna Rosier? Of all the witches in this school, you go after her?"

Blaise shrugged, "As entertaining as it is to see your jealousy, I don't see how it's any of your concern. Evanna has a great personality."

"Oh, her personality," Ginevra mocked, "I wasn't aware that's how we were referring to people's arses now!"

He grinned, "She does have a nice arse, doesn't she?"

"You're a pig," Ginevra wrinkled her nose at him. "What do you want from me? I told you I was sorry. I apologized for hurting your feelings at the Yule Ball years ago– "

"You didn't hurt my feelings," He cut in sharply.

She rolled her eyes in disbelief, "Whatever. I admitted I was wrong and that everything was my fault. Last year when we–" She trailed off abruptly as she remembered the way his lips had trailed across every inch of her skin. The way he had curled her against his chest, refusing to let her go even when he was fast asleep.

Her face suddenly flashed with embarrassment when she noticed his bemused stare, as if he could read her mind. "What more will it take for you to forgive me?" She demanded instead.

He nodded slowly, as though he were mulling it over. "Let me ask you a question, Ginevra," He almost purred her name, and she took a step back instinctively. "What do you want from me?"

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and ducked her head as she felt her cheeks burn, "I-I just want to be friends again."

"I don't think we were ever friends," Blaise rubbed his jaw in amusement. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought our relationship consisted of you toying with me and the occasional heated shag. We were never friends."

She swallowed hard at his words and shook her head, "Blaise, you have to understand the position I'm in. You like games. You chase a different girl every week only to break her heart the next morning like it's nothing. I was just afraid that if I let myself grow to care for you more… I was afraid you would turn around and do the same to me once you lost interest."

"Well, what about me?" Blaise stepped away from the desk and moved towards her. "Do you think it was easy for me to admit I might want more from our relationship?" He stepped closer, "You had an equal chance of hurting me too, you know. The only difference is that I was willing to still try, and you decided to shut me out me before I could even get near you."

"I made a mistake," Ginevra sighed. She laughed humorlessly, "Don't you get it? We both like the chase. That's just who we are. Just two horrible people who enjoy the game more than anything else."

Her eyes sparkled and she stared up at him through her lashes with a teasing smirk, "We could always start a new game, you know." When he didn't respond, she hesitantly raised her hand up to brush his cheek, "I know I hurt you, but I still care for you."

Blaise felt his jaw tick and he caught her hand. "Well–What if I want something more than that now?"

She froze. "What are you saying?"

"It means I'm tired of chasing you," He admitted. "I think it's time you chase me, for once," He paused for a moment, considering, "The next time you think you want me, Ginevra, you should know something," He leaned down, brushing his lips against her ear, "Once I have you, you're mine. Once I touch you, no other wizard will again." He dropped her hand and stepped back with a cold smile, "Was that clear enough?"

"Yours?" She choked out. "Have you lost your mind, Zabini? I can't–"

"Why not? Is it really so hard to admit you want something more too?"

"This is ridiculous," Ginevra breathed out. She gestured between them vehemently, "Do you really think this will work out? We come from different worlds–not to mention, I'll never be enough for you, Blaise. I can't–" She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head, "I won't let myself be with you–not if there are other witches involved."

Blaise held her gaze, eyes dark. "What if I said you're enough?"

"What do you think is going to happen if I agree to this?" She sighed in frustration. "Do you think we're going to start holding hands in the Great Hall and walking to classes together? That's not the kind of girl I am. That's not the kind of person you are either. "She bit her lip, "I'm sorry, but I-I can't be yours."

Blaise shrugged, "Then you'll never have me either," He turned his back on her and smiled to himself, "Let's see how long you can live with that."

Hadrian walked to the Slytherin table, pausing to press a kiss to Daphne's cheek as he slid into the seat beside her. "The oddest thing just happened," He revealed, reaching forward to grab a sandwich.

"It's completely normal, the mediwitch says it can happen to any bloke if you're under too much stress," Blaise said soothingly. "And also, if you've had a lot of unlabeled drugs before you left the club in Milan."

"What?" Hadrian shot him an annoyed glance, "I'm not talking about that, you tosser."

"Oh," Blaise pretended to frown as Daphne hid a laugh. "Then what are you talking about?"

"This random bloke in Hufflepuff thanked me when I was walking over here after class," Hadrian took a sip of his water. "He said some witch he was seeing agreed to a third date because he was wearing the most wicked shirt." He made a face, "Bloody hideous thing, if you ask me."

Neville's eyes brightened with delight. "What kind of shirt was it?"

Hadrian chewed thoughtfully as he tried to recall. "You know, now that I think about it, I've been seeing a few blokes wearing a similar style recently. It looks like someone poured a few buckets of paint on it, kind of like this shirt Destiny once got me." He eyed the bowl of fruit in front of him and picked out an apple. "Does it mean something? Why are so many people wearing something that hideous?"

Draco cursed under his breath, "You've got to be fucking kidding me."