The week went by quickly with Draco completing several essays and doing some important reading. Ron and Harry did none of these though, they were too busy practising quidditch. The pressure on the team grew, as everyone in Gryffindor tower wished them luck and told them that they knew that Gryffindor would win the first match. Most of the team could handle it, but Ron seemed to be cracking under the pressure and by the morning of the first match, he was approaching a full hysteric breakdown. At breakfast, Harry pretended- convincingly- to slip some of the precious felix felicis into Ron's early morning pumpkin juice. Feeling lucky even though the seal on the potion vial was unbroken, Ron went on to save three improbable shots that even Oliver Wood would have let go straight through the hoops. When Gryffindor won with a clean sheet therefore, it was Ron who was treated as the hero of the hour.

The party in the common room went on until late that night, with loads of sweets and butterbeers being consumed. The whole team was praised mightily by the rest of the house. As the party went on, Lavender Brown, a girl who Draco had ignored on principle for years for committing the heinous crime of being silly and having fun far too often, came up to Ron. First they hugged, then they, for want of a better word, kissed, then Hermione ran out of the room. Draco looked back one last time at Ron, who looked as though he was trying to eat Lavender's face rather than kiss her, and followed Hermione.

When he found her again, she was sat down, curled up in a window, tears rolling down her cheeks. Unsure of what to do, Draco sat down by her feet and sat in silence for a while, head hung. Eventually, he spoke.

'What's wrong, Hermione?'

'Hermione looked up, startled, she had been so lost in her own misery that she hadn't noticed the arrival of Draco.

'Oh, nothing. I'm just being silly.'

'Come on, Hermione, this isn't nothing. Why'd you run away like that?'

Hermione was silent for a long time.

'Well?'

'Ron.'

'Because he was kissing Lavender?'

'Yes.' Said Hermione, simply.

Draco's heart plummeted. But why? Why should he be so badly affected by the news that Hermione was feeling scorned by Ron? Then it came to him. There could only be one reason. Somewhen, somehow, Draco had developed a crush on Hermione. Now he'd just found out that she didn't think any more of him than she did anyone else. He was just a friend to her. Nothing more. The quick disappearance of the smile from Draco's face wasn't noticed by Hermione, who was oblivious of any change on Draco's part. Draco was determined not to change his behaviour either. He came out here to comfort Hermione, and that's what he was damned well going to do.

'It's not that bad, Hermione. We all find that people we fancy don't love us when we're young. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but there's someone out there waiting for you. You just don't know it yet.'

'Thanks, Draco. I suppose he is at perfect liberty to kiss whoever he likes. And so am I.' Hermione said, with a sense of steely resolve. She got up and headed back into the party. Draco got up and followed her in. When he got there an unwelcome sight greeted his eyes. Hermione was embracing McLaggen and their jaws were clamped together in a kiss that was far more elegant than the one that Ron had had not fifteen minutes ago. So, he was second to McLaggen now, was he? Great. Draco reminded himself that he wasn't going to change his behaviour towards Hermione, and feeling the urge to clout McLaggen, he feigned that he was tired and went up to bed.

Draco woke early the next morning, keen to avoid anyone he might know, most of all Hermione, and headed down to breakfast. On the door of the Great Hall, a notice was pinned, telling anyone who might care to know that for those in the 6th year there would be apparition lessons for anyone who was interested, and refresher courses for anyone who already had their licence but was a bit out of practise. Draco knew instantly, that this was all that anyone was going to be talking about in class for quite some time. Well, thought Draco, apparition would be a useful skill to have in the coming years, and put his name right at the top of the list. For only 12 galleons, it would be a bargain.

A bargain it may have been, but it didn't start for another two months, which left Draco in rather a quandary, what to do with himself of an evening? Harry was busy with Dumbledore most nights, learning more about the Dark Lord's past, Ron was attached to Lavender and Hermione was spending most of her time in the girls' dormitories, desperately trying to stay away from McLaggen, who after that kiss seemed to want nothing more than to encourage a repeat performance by telling Hermione about his quidditch career. It wasn't even as if he had much work to do, since he normally managed to complete most of his work in the frees in the middle of the day and at lunchtime.

After an unusually light day's work, with only Transfiguration in the morning and Defence Against the Dark Arts in the early afternoon, Draco had completed that day's essays by dinner and had even caught up with the interminable reading required for History of Magic. Faced with a long evening of utter boredom, or socialising with first years, Draco didn't return to the common room after dinner, but instead headed up the stairs to the room of requirement. He stalked past the entrance the required number of times wishing for something to stop himself being bored. The door appeared as expected and Draco walked in.

The room was full of rubbish, but in the middle of it all, mounted upon a low platform was the biggest collections of tubes and pipes Draco had ever seen. Looking down, he saw rows of keyboards and a pedal board. His face lit up. It was an organ, and compared to the one at home it was huge. If only there was some sheet music. As the thought crossed Draco's mind, a large bound book appeared on the music rest of the organ. He walked closer and read the title, Popular Themes. Draco opened the book and flicked through. Oh, there was one he knew, how hard could it be? Draco sat down, pulled out a variety of stops and started playing. Hmm, sounded a bit off- of course, the tremulant was on, giving each note the sense that it could bring anyone to tears of sadness. It had its place, but not here. Draco pushed the stop in to cancel it and linked a couple of manuals together to get the sound he wanted. He started to play again. Ahh, yes that was better, a bit slow perhaps, but that would improve with practice, no doubt.

The next few hours passed in a rapture of music, with Draco ploughing through the book picking out songs he liked and ignoring those he didn't or was unfamiliar with. Stops flew in and out as songs changed and Draco's feet skipped over the pedals whilst his fingers did much the same thing on the manuals. If it wasn't any good than Draco didn't know it, and when he came to the end of the book and looked at his watch, he realised that he was supposed to have been in the common room five minutes ago.

Not wanting to be caught out at this hour, Draco snuck back to the common room, desperately trying to avoid being seen- if anyone saw him now, not even being a prefect could get him out of it. What was that? A noise? Where was it coming from? Draco ducked into a deep shadow behind a suit of armour and waited for the noise to pass. It was definitely footsteps, Draco could make that out clearly now. Oh please don't let it be Snape. It wasn't. It was Harry. Draco crept up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

'Who? Oh, it's you, Draco.'

'Have a good lesson, then?'

'Yeah, it was alright thanks.' They carried on walking in an awkward silence.

'Draco?'

'Yes, Harry?'

'Dumbledore showed me something rather interesting today. It was another memory, one from Voldemort's school days.'

'Right.'

'Well, it went a bit funny- Dumbledore said it had been interfered with – modified - by the person whose memory it was. He says we aren't going to have any more lessons until I get hold of that memory.'

'Bloody Hell. That's a bit of a tall order, isn't it? Do you know whose memory it is?'

'Yeah, it's old Sluggers' memory.'

'Well, that's something at least- but how are you going to get it out of him- the true memory that is?'

'I don't know. That's the thing.'

'Well, If I were you I'd think about it over the holidays- Sirius'll be able to help you – at any rate, don't make your move before Slughorn throws his Christmas party, from what Uncle Noctifer's told me they sound awesome, and you don't want to be missed out because you've upset him, do you?'

'Not really, but it sounded like it was important. But I suppose you're right, Dumbledore was going somewhere over the holidays – he refused to say where – something to do with these horcrux thingies.'

'Horcrux?'

'Yeah, keep this under your hat, right. I don't think I'm supposed to be telling you.'

'Telling me what?'

'Well, it's this piece of dark magic. It stores a bit of your soul away in something else- that's how Dumbledore described it, anyway. It makes you immortal. Voldemort's using them and more than one.'

'Oh yes?'

'Well, there was that diary of Riddle we found in second year.'

'I know the one; you practically went to bed with it. You're telling me that's got a bit of Voldmort's soul in it? Urrgh!'

'Well, it hasn't anymore- apparently when we stabbed that basilisk fang through it, it got rid of his soul.'

'I see. But you say he has more than one?'

'Oh, yes. You know that ring Dumbledore's been wearing?'

'On his blackened hand?'

'That's the one. Well, apparently that used to be one too. He hasn't told me how he destroyed it.'

'If these things are so easy to destroy, how come they're any use then?'

'Well, they're not that easy to destroy apparently, but the key thing is, Voldemort hasn't left them unprotected. You know that hand.'

'The one that went black, you mean?'

'Yeah. Well, apparently that's from a curse on the ring. Don't tell anyone, but Dumbledore told me that he's only got a year to live- if he's lucky.'

'A year?'

'Yeah, not long is it?'

'No, not long at all.'

They arrived back at the Fat Lady, said the password and entered. The common room was deserted, so Draco and Harry headed up to bed, keen to get some shut-eye before morning.

The morning brought more lessons, as did the afternoon. In the evening Ron was glued to Lavender and Hermione was glued to her books, particularly the thick and heavy books required for ancient runes, which proved useful in fending off Cormac when he was being a bore – one quick smack soon sent him scarpering, even if he did seem to miss the message, shrugging it off as Hermione playing hard-to-get. Life was beginning to settle down to a routine with only the usual level of work and no other worries when the invitation to Slughorn's Christmas party came through. On the end it said:

Feel free to bring a guest.

Great. Now he had to worry about inviting someone along. Who did he know that he could invite? No-one really. Who did he know he could invite- not another member of the Slug Club- that wasn't right. It also ruled out almost every girl Draco knew apart from Luna Lovegood, and swhilst he was fond of Luna as a friend, Draco couldn't bring himself to ask her along, at any rate, Draco suspected that Harry might do that. Who to ask, it could be anyone. Hang on, it could be anyone. He didn't have to invite a pupil, not even someone who was at Hogwarts. Who did he know who he could invite given that, then? Well, the best bet would be a family member- they'd probably say yes, but then most of them would have trouble getting past security, Draco thought, reflecting on his auntie Bellatrix. Tonks wouldn't though- she was an auror, not to mention that she was guarding Hogwarts anyway- there was no way she wouldn't be able to come. Draco smiled happily to himself. He'd gotten that problem solved, now he had someone to go with. All he had to do was send the invite. Now, what to write?

Dear Tonks,

Hope you are well. Are you doing anything in the evening Friday week? I don't know whether you know about it, but Professor Slughorn often invites a group of pupils over for a meal. He's holding a christams party for us at 7 in the evening on the Friday after next and has encouraged us to bring guests. I was wondering whether you wanted to come?

Take care,

Draco M.

P.S. Have you got any tips about where to look up casting stronger shields - Snape asked us to look into them this week and I can't find anything in my books from the library. Thanks!

The letter came back swiftly by return of owl. The paper looked like it had been cried on slightly, which made Tonks' scrawl even harder to read.

Dear Draco,

Thank-you for your invitation- I'll need to have a word with the auror-in-charge of the Hogwarts security patrols to make sure I can get an evening off, but I don't think that'll be a problem, so you can put me down as a provisional yes. It'll be really nice to see you again. On the matter of the shield spells, I'd try and find a copy of Blocking the Unblockable by Emdessim Kuwaji. You may have trouble finding it at Hogwarts, but Flourish and Blotts always has one in stock, you could try there. Is it a Dress robes affair? Only I haven't got any.

Yours,

N Tonks.

P.S. I'm a size 12.

Ahh, a definite hint at the end there. Time for a word with Hermione. But hang on, that might make her think she didn't like her... but no, she didn't care about him anyway, so what did it matter? Well, Hermione was just sitting over there. Doing ancient Runes, again. Draco went over and sat down next to Hermione. Wallop!

'Ow what was that for?' Draco asked, rubbing his arm where Hermione had hit him with the book.

'Oh, Draco, it's you. I thought you were Cormac, come back again. He's not left me alone all evening.'

'Well, he's dedicated, you can't fault him for that.'

'Yes you can, you just have to see that he's being stubborn and obtuse, it's very easy to fault him for that.'

'Yes, well, I didn't come to discuss McLaggen, Hermione.'

'Now there's a relief.'

'I want to ask you about dress robes.'

'You've already got some haven't you. And wouldn't your uncle be a better person to ask?'

'Not about dress robes for ladies.'

'Something you're not telling us, Malfoy?' A cheeky fourth year asked. Draco gave him a dirty look and carried on talking to Hermione.

'I see. So who are they for?'

'Tonks.'

'Right. Well, I'll have to think on that one. Do you know her size?'

'Yes.'

'Good, I won't ask how or why, but I hope they're a Christmas present.'

'Yeah, they are I suppose, a sort of early Christmas present. She hasn't got any you see, and I was taking her to Slughorn's party.'

'So, into older women, are you?'

'Not particularly, it's just I assumed you'd be going with McLaggen.' Draco said playfully, earning him another wallop from the ancient runes book. 'and I don't know anyone else in the school I'd like to go with.'

'Really, you couldn't think of a single person other than me in this entire school?' Hermione said half-flattered, half-disbelieving.

'No-one I'd like to spend time with, and out of the female members of my family, she's the only one who isn't wither dead or wanted for mass murder.'

'What about Tonks's mum?'

'Oh, Andromeda! Hadn't thought of her, but really, going with her would be worse than going with McGonagall. She tends to mother people.'

'I see.' Said Hermione, in a voice that implied she didn't, 'Well, I don't know what you want to get, but I'd be inclined to get something in purple- we met a couple of times at headquarters and she said that she likes purple. Other than that, try to avoid too much lace and keep the neckline reasonably high – you need to cut a fine line between looking like a Victorian governess and looking like something out of the Arabian nights. Other than that, you could either go for the dress that stops at the ankles or goes all the way down to the floor. Just go for what you like from some catalogue or other, any old one will do. I can borrow one from Parvati for you, if you like.'

'Thanks, Hermione, that'd be great.'