It was nearing the end of February, which meant that the Slytherins had a Quidditch match coming up against the Ravenclaws. And just as with their first match, Flint was demanding all of Harry's and Draco's time. The sense of rivalry may have been strongest between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but Slytherins still felt an innate drive to win.

Harry's and Draco's preoccupation meant that Callidus was spending more time with the Gryffindors. It also meant that he could focus more of his attention on trying to recreate the potion that Longbottom had accidentally ingested that caused his magic to be so visible. In the past month, Callidus found his patience with Longbottom increasing, telling himself that it was easier to be forbearing when Harry and Draco were so busy, and not wanting to admit even to himself, that Longbottom was rather likeable. Yes, Longbottom potion skills were abysmal, but that only meant that when Callidus finally drove the basic concepts into Longbottom's thick skull, the rush of accomplishment was immense. Who knew that teaching could be rewarding? Was this why his adult self had decided to become a teacher? Maybe there was some merit to the idea after all, but Callidus's dream was still to become a renowned potion master. Perhaps he could consider indulging in teaching after he retired from a life of fantastic discoveries (and maybe even a measure of fame?)

Whatever strange potion it was that Longbottom had accidentally created, Callidus knew it wasn't a dead end. Even with only a fraction of the ingredients in place, the potion was able to enhance the visibility of magic. Testing the experimental brews on a common magical beetle found in the Forbidden Forest, the potion changed the creature's magic from a transparent wavering, to yellowish-green semi-transparent wavering. But while it may have been enough for a dabbler in potions, Callidus was no dabbler. He wanted - needed - to recreate Longbottom's full potion. He wanted to make magic visible with dazzling clarity, like what he had seen that day when Longbottom tripped and fell in front of his lab. The magic that day had been beautiful. He could admit that much, if only to himself. And even if Longbottom had been the one to accidently make and ingest the potion, it didn't mean that it was any less of Callidus's discovery. Did it?

"Caiside said 'hullo' to me in the hall today," Longbottom said, after setting down the stirring rod for his potion. Before Callidus could remind him that he needed to immediately lower the heat, Longbottom had already done so. He was almost tempted to praise the other boy. Instead, he pursed his lips, and tried not to smile.

"Did she?"

Longbottom was too diffident to meet Callidus's eyes, but there was no mistaking the pleasure in his voice. "Yeah."

"That's - good."

Finally, Longbottom looked up towards him. "You think so? You speak to her. Did - did she like my poem? I meant to ask you sooner, but I was -" his face reddened and he looked away.

"Your poem was - adequate."

"Adequate?" his lips twisted downwards.

"Your poem was well written."

Longbottom's eyes grew large. "You read it?!"

Was he not supposed to have admitted that? And why was he so concerned about Longbottom's silly feelings anyway? "I thought it showed skill and potential. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Longbottom's flush deepened. He looked upset and Callidus struggled to figure out what he had done wrong.

"Add the sliced stems now!" he reminded the other boy, who was quick to obey.

After an especially nerve-jittering stretch of silence, Longbottom finally spoke, his voice clipped. "I didn't realize she would share that poem with everyone. She must think it's all a big joke."

Longbottom's feelings were finally making some sense. "You mistake the situation," Callidus said.

"How?" Longbottom asked, lips drawn down in doubt.

"They're girls. Their minds are incomprehensible brambles of illogic."

"Girls are just as intelligent as we are!"

"I didn't say that they weren't. I'm well aware of the brilliance that some girls possess."

"Then what's your point?" Longbottom wondered, his vexation overcome by insecurity.

Callidus sighed. "The girls can't seem to help nosing themselves into other people's business. I received the distinct impression that Ginny snatched your card away from Caiside before she could stop her."

"Oh." He fidgeted with his hands, abashed. "So -" he peeked at Callidus, "you really think I have skill and potential?"

Callidus rolled his eyes, keeping his attention on Longbottom's brew. "Don't start getting a big head about it. And -" but he cut himself off as Longbottom added the next ingredient to the potion without being reminded.

"You know," Longbottom eventually said, "I used to have this idea that Slytherins were all evil. Not that I'm referring to you, though!"

Callidus merely raised his eyebrows.

"But in general," Longbottom continued. "It's just how people talk about Slytherins, you know? I always hear Ron mumbling about 'evil gits' and I know -" he coloured and gave his head a shake, "yeah - anyway - what was I saying - er - I guess I'm just glad to know that I was wrong?"

"All right," Callidus said, starting to feel uncomfortable with Longbottom's emotional sharing.

After Longbottom stirred the potion the required number of times, he turned off the flame. "Anyway, I was just thinking - um - I've really appreciated your help. Maybe I could show you some of my plants? Like - for you to use in potions - and - er - stuff."

"I suppose -"

Longbottom brightened. "Would you want to come out to the greenhouses with me and see some of the side projects I'm working on?"

"What?" Callidus squawked (not that he'd ever tell anyone that he squawked - and already, he felt himself heating up, mortified.) "No!"

Longbottom paled, eyes wide and wounded, and he looked away. Callidus's guilt seemed to multiply like a cancer, scrabbling up his throat and choking him. But Longbottom was already finishing the last steps of his potion and stoppering it, and soon, Callidus wouldn't have to deal with the other boy for the rest of the evening.

He wasn't close enough to Longbottom to explain to him the situation with the fifth years. He couldn't tell Longbottom that it wasn't anything personal - it was just that Longbottom was a Gryffindor. Callidus didn't want to project weaknesses and vulnerabilities to his House mates. But these were his thoughts, not his words.

When Longbottom was finally finished, he packed up his bags without a word and dragged his feet to the door.

Callidus stood and followed. "I'll see you next Monday?" Callidus said, cringing when it came out more like a question than a statement.

"Huh? Oh. Er. Yeah, I guess. See you Monday."

When Longbottom was gone, Callidus leaned his forehead against the closed door, wondering why he felt so wretched. Stupid, stupid Longbottom. This was all his fault. And what was the big deal anyway? He had just refused Longbottom's offer. That didn't mean that he disliked the other boy. He sighed. Perhaps he would tell Longbottom next week that it was nothing personal. Maybe he could make an excuse and say he was too busy with revising. Thus decided, the dark pall of his mood lifted, and he didn't even question why he felt the need to make excuses to Longbottom in the first place.

-o-

It was finally the day of the Quidditch match, and though Harry and Draco had been anticipating a cloudy but dry day, it turned out to be thick with a damp mist. It was terrible weather for Quidditch. No one would be able to see anything. But apparently, it wasn't bad enough to cancel the game, and since February lacked entertainment, the turnout in the Quidditch stands was high. Callidus found a seat next to Pansy and Blaise.

"Cal!" Pansy greeted as he sat down, eyeing his appearance. "Just because the weather is dreadful, it doesn't mean that you should neglect your hair. You look so much better when your hair is nice. Nice enough that I'd even consider dating you!"

Blaise snorted. "No you wouldn't, Pansy. The only people you'd consider dating are loaded with galleons. The bigger the bank vault, the better."

Pansy hummed. "You're right, darling." She turned to Cal. "If you get rich, I'd consider dating you."

Callidus rolled his eyes. "How flattering."

Pansy gave him a cat-like smile. "I know." Pansy began to complain about the weather for a little while longer, but soon, Madam Hooch's piercing whistle drew their eyes down to the green.

"And they're off!" The announcer, Lee Jordan, declared. "The fog is awful, folks, but that isn't going to stop our players! And it looks like Marcus Flint has got the quaffle, and he's swooping down and fast! He evades the Ravenclaw defense - throws - and - great save, by Grant Page! Ravenclaw's very talented keeper! Those were some lightning fast reflexes!"

Callidus shook his head. Even when the Gryffindors weren't playing, Jordan couldn't be bothered to rein in his bias. But it hardly mattered. The Slytherin team was a strong one, and they still had the advantage of the new brooms that Draco's father had 'donated' at the beginning of the term.

After the first hour and a half, the game was starting to look like a slaughter, with Slytherins leading the way. But with the fog remaining stubbornly dense, neither Harry nor Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker, were able to catch sight of the flash of gold that indicated the presence of the snitch.

The chasers and even the beaters on both sides were starting to sustain more injuries. With the poor visibility, both sides were failing to see the bludgers until it was too late, and it was only sheer chance that no one had been severely injured. In the stands, he could hear the murmurs of the other students as they speculated whether the game would keep going, or be cancelled.

But after another half-hour had passed, there was a sharp movement from Chang, followed by Harry a split second later. They had spotted the snitch! The crowd, which was starting to grow restless from the cold and the inability to see anything quieted, and sat forward with intense anticipation. The game might be slaughter so far, but the Slytherin score wasn't quite high enough for the team to win if Chang happened to catch the snitch. The game could very well come down to the seekers.

Harry and Chang kept close to one another, and in the mist, Callidus had the impression that Harry had slammed against Chang once or twice, flying with an aggressiveness that would have made Flint proud (or if not proud, then at least satisfied). It was only the mist that saved Harry from being served a foul call. The seekers turned a sharp angle, lifting upwards as they mimicked the movements of the snitch.

Distantly, he was aware of Jordan saying: "Malfoy has got the Quaffle! And - oh! Slytherins score! Again…" but the actions of the chasers and keepers no longer interested him.

Harry and Chang arced downwards, both pushing themselves to the extent of their abilities; Chang because she knew that the hopes of the team rested on her, and Harry because he was a Slytherin, and couldn't let his team lose. They were flying into the middle of the fray, and instead of clear and open space, both of them now had to dodge the other players, the stands, the goal posts, and the bludgers.

Harry was a hairsbreadth ahead, his arm already outstretched towards the golden ball. He was so close. So fixated. And Callidus watched with growing horror as he realized his friend was oblivious to the bludger that was flying towards him, slicing through the mist like a knife ripping a veil. Callidus's mouth had formed a silent 'no' - there was no way he could warn his friend. He was no longer watching to see if Harry would close his fingers around that tiny ball - all he could do was will and wish that Harry would change his angle, that Harry would fly faster or slower, that Harry would do anything other than try and grab the snitch. But it was no use, and the crowd gasped as the bludger slammed into Harry, knocking him off his broom.

Callidus was already on his feet, dashing down the stairs of the stands and towards the green. There was a crowd gathering there, but Callidus only wanted to know that Harry was all right, to be able to still the jangling fear that threatened his mind. He shoved past the milling students and players, and spotted the beacon of Draco's bright hair. His friend was on his knees, half-supporting Harry's weight. From the scrunched expression of pain on Harry's face, he immediately knew his friend was alive, and that once Madam Pomfrey arrived, Harry would be okay.

"No need to worry!" a voice cried, and the tension that was flowing out of Callidus immediately returned.

"Stay away from him!" Draco warned, his eyes flashing up at Lockhart who was already by the boys' side.

"Now, now, I know you're worried for your friend so I won't take offense, but it's a simple charm that I've used countless times."

Callidus was already reaching for his wand and sprinting towards his friend, prepared to stand up to the persistently aggravating Lockhart, but he wasn't fast enough. He saw Draco's eyes widen in horror, saw Harry blink in confusion, and then Lockhart was looking sheepish, and taking steps backwards as he made his excuses.

Callidus saw red. At the moment, he could have killed Lockhart. But Harry was far more important, and it was clear that there was no way that Harry could walk to the infirmary on his own.

"I'll call for a stretcher," Callidus said to Draco and Harry, and Draco, whose expression was shell shocked, looked up at him, and nodded helplessly.

With the help of Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick (who had come to watch his House play), they managed to safely transport Harry to the infirmary. Callidus didn't relax until Madam Pomfrey had emerged, clucking over Harry's state, and reassuring everyone that he would be fine, and she had mended his punctured lungs (though he would have to spend the entire weekend in the infirmary re-growing his rib bones which had been vanished). That was what had happened?! Callidus hadn't even realized it at the time, and fury once again chased away relief as he thought about all the terrible things he wanted to do to Lockhart. Judging from Draco's expression, his friend felt the same way.

They stayed with Harry for as long as they were permitted to, but when Harry's eyes began to droop, Madam Pomfrey shooed them off. As Callidus and Draco walked back down to the common room, they plotted the myriad ways in which they could turn Lockhart's life into a living nightmare. But as Callidus entered through the passageway into the Slytherin common room, he was caught off guard by the raucous celebrations. He distantly remembered Harry making a comment about finally catching the snitch, but he had been so concerned about Harry's well-being that it hadn't fully registered. Slytherins had won.

But neither Callidus nor Draco were in the mood for celebrating. After Draco accepted congratulations from their House mates (with much less enthusiasm than normal), they retreated into the quiet sanctuary of their dorms.

It didn't occur to Callidus until was in bed that night that he would be essentially be spending the entirety of his Sunday with Draco.

-o-

"Want to go see Harry?" It was the first thing that Draco said that morning, after getting dressed, and before going down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Callidus looked over at Harry's empty bed, a small wrinkle between his brow. "Are you sure he's awake?"

"Oh. Good point. Let's go after breakfast then."

Callidus nodded.

The Great Hall was usually sparsely populated on weekend mornings, and today was no different. Of the second years, only Bulstrode was sitting at the table, and she grunted a nod when she spotted them. They ate relative silence. And Callidus didn't know if it was in his head, but from the slight fraying of his nerves, it felt awkward. Had Callidus and Draco always relied on Harry to be the glue in their relationship?

"Something is different," Bulstrode suddenly said, once her plate was cleared of food. "You guys are different today."

"Well, we are absent Harry," Callidus pointed out.

Bulstrode rolled her eyes. "I know. I'm just saying you're acting different. It's weird. Really weird."

Callidus and Draco exchanged a glance. They weren't sure of how to respond to that, so in the end they didn't.

"When is Harry going to be out of the Infirmary?" Bulstrode asked.

"By tonight I imagine," Draco answered. "I hope."

Bulstrode blinked. "I hope so too. Then you two can stop being so weird."

It was a relief to finally finish breakfast, so that they could go up to the infirmary and see Harry. Unfortunately, when they got there, they learned Harry was sleeping. And when Draco began to bombard Madam Pomfrey with demanding questions, she grew irritable and insisted they leave, lest they "disturbed the patients," adding: "You can come back this evening. Ah!" she held up a hand to cut off Draco's interruption. "Skele-gro is hard enough on the system when it's just limbs. But Mr Potter is re-growing several ribs. He'll be asleep most of the day."

She shooed them out with a hand firmly pushing at their backs, and shut the door behind them, ignoring Draco's sputtered protests. The sight of that closed door caused Draco to flush red with ire.

"The nerve of that woman!"

As much as Callidus had wanted to see Harry, Draco's indignation amused him, and a snort of laughter escaped his lips.

"What! Do you think this is funny?"

He tried to bite back his grin. "Somewhat?" Only to burst out in laughter, his black strands of hair falling across his face as his body helplessly shook.

Draco narrowed his eyes, his hands balled into fists, but then he suddenly relaxed and shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "This is ridiculous. C'mon. Let's get out of here."

Callidus gave Draco a wry smile. "All right."

Their first thought was to go down to the secret chamber; it was what they did every weekend (and most weeknights) since they had found it. But when they slinked into the girls' bathroom, Moaning Myrtle was there. She shrieked when she saw them, crying out: "Horrible boys! You horrible boys are back! Come to mock poor me, have you? Come to call me names and make me cry?"

As much as both of them wanted to go down to the secret chamber, neither of them wanted to deal with Moaning Myrtle. Better to hightail out of there, than to deal with an emotional and hysterical ghost. Only problem was -

"What do we do now?" Draco asked, brows puckered and lips pouted.

"Study?"

Draco scrunched up his face. "Are you kidding? No, wait, this is you. Of course you're not kidding. Uugh, I know I should, but I don't want to! Besides, the common room is too distracting. Pansy's always nattering away about this or that, and Greengrass has that terrible high-pitched laugh, and the first years -" he shuddered, "were we that awful as first years? No. We couldn't have been. Besides, I'm a Malfoy. I was never that undignified. I'm sure of it."

Callidus smirked and shook his head. "I know of a quiet place we can study. Hermione and that lot use it, but I think they spend most weekends in the library."

Draco groaned.

"You may as well get it over with. Harry and I both know how exacting your father is about your grades."

Draco threw back his head and groaned again. "Uugh! Why do you have to be so right?"

Callidus only smiled and shrugged. After gathering their satchels, Callidus led Draco up to the empty fourth room classroom. And while Draco continued to grumble and gripe, he eventually mustered up his concentration, and the pair of them were able to finish a reasonable amount of work.

Callidus was reading through their Defense course book, mentally cursing Lockhart's uselessness for missing so much of the material, when Draco interrupted his thoughts.

"Ever feel like - it's hard to meet people's expectations?"

Callidus furrowed his brows, glancing up from his book. "Pardon?"

"Ever feel like -"

"Yes, I heard. But what do you mean by 'people?'"

Draco pursed his lips. "You know - people -"

Callidus narrowed his eyes. "Why would I care what people think? I plan to prove my worth."

"Well -" Draco bit down on his lip, "maybe not all people. I certainly couldn't care less what some random muggleborn thinks about anything. I mean, people close to you. Authority figures. Parents, and such -" he waved his hand in a false-casual gesture.

Callidus paused. "Are you talking about your father?"

Draco looked away. "If I am?"

Callidus hummed.

"It's just that, well, I can usually talk to Harry about anything," Draco explained. "Everything. But - when I bring up my father, I can't stop thinking about how Harry doesn't have a father. He thinks he hides it well, but he gets this look in his eyes, sometimes. A sort of sad look. Wistful? Yeah, that's it. He gets all wistful. And I - I just can't. I can't bring myself to whinge about my father when Harry doesn't even have a father. I'm fortunate in a way that he'll never be."

Callidus blinked, surprised. That was remarkably considerate of Draco. He didn't realize Draco had it in him to be quite that thoughtful. Though it occurred to him that his thoughts were rather unkind. Draco was spoiled and at times, a prat and a pain in the arse, but he was also a good friend.

"I understand."

Draco's expression held a hint of hope. "You do?"

Callidus nodded. "My father is - dead now, but -" He pulled his brows downwards, as he brought forth the memory of Tobias Snape's angry and drunken face, "his presence was oppressive. Nothing was ever good enough - normal enough for him."

"I don't know if I'd call my father oppressive. And I know my father doesn't want me to be normal, Merlin forbid! I just -" Draco huffed, and slumped his shoulders. "I wonder how I can live up to the Malfoy name, sometimes. We can't be normal; we must be extraordinary. I mean, I'm sure I'll be able to do it. I'm already extraordinary and I'm a Malfoy! But -" he compressed his lips and looked over at Callidus, "then you and Hermione came along, and impressed all the professors, and got top marks in all the classes. I mean, it wouldn't have been so bad if it was just you. But - Hermione? She isn't even -" he cut himself off, almost quivering with frustration.

Callidus was struck by a flash of insight. His mother had been a pureblood, but his father had been a muggle. He had thought he understand why purebloods valued their culture - why they preferred to keep to their own kind. But he realized that despite his mother's teaching, in some awful way, he was still his father's son. Callidus couldn't fully appreciate what it was like to be raised a pureblood because he wasn't one. So while Callidus could easily accept Hermione, Draco's whole upbringing had primed him to be opposed to her, and everything she represented. What would Draco had been like if he hadn't been friends with Callidus and Harry? The first thing that popped into his mind was a female version of Greengrass, and Callidus shuddered.

"I sometimes think it'd be so much easier to be you or Harry," Draco continued, and though Callidus raised his eyes at Draco's complete lack of self-awareness, Draco was oblivious. "Even if neither of you are purebloods, and I can't imagine having tainted -" he cut himself off, eyes wide, "I didn't mean that in that way. That's just how everyone talks. But neither of you have to think about your lineage. You don't have to think so hard about who you speak to, and how you speak to them. Neither of you seem particularly intent on making people fear you. Well, okay, maybe you do, but Harry certainly doesn't. Sometimes, I even get the impression - with Harry at least, but you as well - that you don't even think about social exchanges in terms of giving and receiving favours! It doesn't make sense! And you don't have to think about centuries of tradition."

"Harry is the last of the Potters. And I'm the last of the Princes."

"But it's not the same! It's -" he knit his brows as he tried to find the right words.

"Your father?"

Draco exhaled heavily, running his hands through his hair before he realized he was mussing it up. "Yeah. Why am I even talking about this? It's stupid. I'm a Malfoy." He paused, brooding, before straightening up in his seat. "Do you suppose Harry's awake yet? Let's go find out."

Callidus gave Draco a long look before shrugging and packing up his bags. If Draco didn't want to talk, he wouldn't push him. But the conversation had given him an insight into Draco that he didn't have before. How much of Draco's cocksure nature was just a front for an underlying insecurity?

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

I ended up starting another Hogwarts story (with Blaise Zabini as the main character)... I couldn't get it out of my head, but it's really hard to run three stories at once