Draco was now convinced that secrets made life better. Even his reflection seemed happier in the days that followed the conversation between Snape and himself. Draco wasn't entirely convinced that his reflection in the mirror was actually an extension of his own personality, but it tended to just know things nonetheless.

After Snape had guided Draco back to the dungeons, he had given Draco a note rolled up in a old potion bottle, which he was instructed not to open until he was well-rested, and told Draco that they were to start meeting for weekly lessons every Saturday after breakfast.

Draco acted like he wasn't secretly thrilled.

The day after this, Draco had Library Study and, instead of leaving right after and running to claim his chair, Draco stayed behind and pulled out the small bottle that Snape had given him. He uncorked it, pulled out the parchment from inside, and laid it out on the desktop.

A fruit found in fall

hidden in a dead window to the soul

bares your next move

Draco snorted. Now Snape was writing poems?

"What's that?" said a voice right next to his ear.

Draco startled nearly out of his chair and righted himself only to find Hermione Granger much too close to him.

"Do you mind?" hissed Draco.

"Is that a riddle?" Granger asked, ignoring him.

"It is none of your business, is what it is."

"I bet," drawled Granger, "that I can figure it out before you can."

Neither of them were a step closer to solving the stupid thing fifteen minutes later. Draco was beginning to think Snape had just jotted down dragon dung to keep Draco busy for a few days.

"A fruit found in fall . . ." Granger was repeating for the thousandth time. She really was worse than Draco's father with that. "That could mean lots of things."

They both decided to give up on the riddle for now and Draco had to force himself to stop thinking about it and finish his homework before dinner. When Saturday rolled around, Draco was no closer to breaking the riddle. If that was even what it was. Surprisingly though, at their meeting, Snape didn't mention it. Instead he barely said anything and played the violin while Draco tried to 'clear his mind.'

Another week passed and Draco was surprised to see Halloween decorations popping up around the castle. He hadn't even realized that the holiday was only a few days away. At home, Halloween was Draco's favorite holiday. He didn't know yet if it would be special at Hogwarts, and mostly wondered if his mother would still decorate the manor without him there. As if reading his mind, Draco's mother owled that day and explained all about the new pumpkins she just had the elves spell up.

Besides one more lesson with Snape, which passed almost uneventfully as Draco spent it playing an awful-looking transfigured piano, the following few days passed in a blur of studying for his first quizzes, reading a book titled 'The Basics of Buddhist Meditation' that Snape had given him, and thinking about falling fruit and soul windows.

On the day of the Halloween Feast, Harry Potter was sent a broomstick during breakfast and Draco was beyond outraged. He lost his resolve for a moment and dragged Pansy into an abandoned classroom while Crabbe and Goyle stood guard.

"What's next?" Draco shouted. "Harry Potter smuggling in illegal dragons to make a little spare coin?!"

"Probably." Pansy just shrugged. She was no help at all.

Later in the day, Draco found himself in Library Study ignoring Granger's pointed looks, not wanting to think, let alone talk to anyone. Draco rested his head on the desk for the last few minutes of class and the next thing he knew he was being suddenly jerked awake by a deep, persistent and familiar voice calling his name.

He groaned loudly and heard Madam Pince shush him from the other side of the library, though she said nothing when Draco stood to leave. Granger called his name on the way out but Draco didn't bother to stop and placate her.

Draco paused when he reached the door to the dragon's tower. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to call Linky to let him in. On the one hand, Draco wanted nothing more than to go in and talk to the fascinating creature. On the other, Draco wanted least of all to start thinking about Potter again.

Draco wasn't sure what was wrong with him, but Harry Potter was no longer a poster boy for Draco to hang up on his wall and sometimes gossip about. He hadn't a clue what changed, but Draco wasn't just interested in the Boy Who Lived. Draco now despised Harry Potter more than he ever knew it was possible to despise someone. He felt so much dislike toward the boy that it hurt him inside.

Draco resolved to ignore the call, but when the feast grew nearer and the dragon was still tugging on his brain, Draco decided he wouldn't let Potter ruin his favorite day. He would just see what the dragon wanted. Maybe Draco could use whatever he learned against Potter somehow. In Draco's journal, Snape had written about a fascinating little game called Bait-the-Gryffindor that Draco had given in and played with Potter when the boy had once pushed him too far. Though one midnight duel could hardly suffice as revenge for Potter being such an infuriating git.

No. Potter would be getting much more of that.

Only . . . he wouldn't, because Draco wasn't going to spend all his free time thinking about Harry Potter. Which was why Draco had been pushing that day far from his mind, he reminded himself. Yes. Draco would just tell the dragon to shut up please and thank you.

The dragon was smirking when Draco and Linky finally made it to his tower, almost as if he knew exactly what Draco had spent the whole walk there thinking about.

"You called?" Draco asked.

"How are you, young warlock?"

"Not friends with Harry Potter, if that's what you mean." Understatement of the year, Draco added silently. Draco scowled as a vision of Harry Potter soaring toward the ground on his broomstick played through his mind.

The dragon raised his hairless eyebrows. "The time I speak of approaches, young warlock. You must warn the crow of the danger that stomps these passageways as we speak, or Albion may never be whole again."

"The crow? You mean Snape?"

The dragon sneered and disappeared. Draco figured his godfather received this reaction a lot though.

On his way back to the dungeons to change before supper, Draco thought a lot. He figured he should never try to explain the dragon-on-a-wall thing to anyone, least of all Professor Sense. He had no reason to help Potter anyway. Draco had decided not to tell Snape anything of what the dragon had told him, but then, lost in thought, Draco happened upon Professor Quirrell nearly being eaten alive by the nastiest beast he'd ever seen. After silently freaking out for a moment, Draco power-walked to Snape's office to tell him about the troll, and then headed to the feast and kept his mouth shut and head down just like his professor had suggested, still too shocked to realize what he'd just done.

The next day it was rumoured that Potter and his weasel had killed three trolls all by themselves. Draco hadn't a clue what warning Snape had to do with anything, but he decided that he should never have told Snape anything and let the troll kill Potter instead.

Stupid dragon.