Hear you got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere

Maybe we can make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

Any place is better

Starting from zero you got nothing to lose

Maybe we'll make something

Me, myself I've got nothing to prove

-Tracey Chapman

Malfoy,

To keep up the tradition, should we meet again on Saturday?

-H.P.

Potter,

It's a tradition now is it? Very well, I can clear up my schedule.

-D.M.

Malfoy,

Great! I'll owl you later with the details!

-H.P.

Malfoy,

I'm admittedly having a bit of trouble deciding where to go this weekend. I feel like we've gotten on this trend of taking each other to "important" places, but I don't really have many places outside of Hogwarts that are important to me. I was thinking that maybe I could take you into the Chamber of Secrets, but I wasn't sure if it was too soon to go back. I'm not even sure how much they've been able to clean up since the battle. I suppose I could owl McGonagall if you're interested. Owl me back and let me know.

-H.P.

P.S. Did you catch that Chudley Cannons game? That dive was something else!

Potter,

You're an idiot.

I wanted to end the letter there, but then I thought about the environmental communities and decided not to waste the paper—capstone of society that I am. Of course I want to go to the Chamber of Secrets, are you bloody out of your mind? The historical value of the experience alone would be worth its weight in gold. If experiences weighed anything—which they should. And this one should weigh well over 1000 kilos. And no I did not just write about legitimizing the weight of experiences because I realized my mistake after I wrote it and needed to cover my arse to save paper because I'm environmentally conscious! Ye of little faith, Potter!

-D.M.

P.S. Of course I saw the game, peon. I never miss a Cannons game. And that dive was lucky. Wait, so you were there? I didn't see the Weasley band huddled together in their usual nosebleed section.

Malfoy,

I've received an owl from McGonagall this morning and she said we're more than welcome to stop by the castle. I didn't tell her why we were coming of course, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

See you tomorrow morning!

-H.P.

P.S. The dive wasn't lucky, and I went alone.

Malfoy was early again.

"Poooooootteeeeerrrrr," he said, bouncing on his toes, a large grin plastered on his face.

Harry grumbled incoherently.

"Pooooooooootteeeeeeerrrrrrr!" Malfoy shoved something warm and cylindrical into his hand. "It's coffee. Drink! I want you bright and chipper for the soon to be best day of my life."

With a bit of help from Malfoy, Harry's hand made it to the general vicinity of his mouth. The hot liquid seeped between his lips and coated his tongue. Its bitterness was fought off with equal amounts of cream and sugar which made it much easier to swallow. The temperature alone was enough to dissipate some of the fog in Harry's mind.

"That's better, isn't it?" Malfoy asked, looking at him with eyes that were far too bright for this time of morning.

"I hate coffee," Harry grumbled.

"Potter!" Malfoy pressed the cup to Harry's lips once more. "You'll refrain from mentioning such blasphemies in my presence ever again!"

Harry swallowed with a growl. He really hated mornings. "Or what?"

"Or I'll lock you in the bathroom with Moaning Myrtle."

"You wouldn't!"

"After all these years do you really doubt me?"

Harry took another swig of coffee, on his own this time, which earned him a pleased look from Malfoy. The moonlight was still bright overhead, and made his eyelashes glimmer like wisps of snow caught on bare tree branches. They were oddly distracting when Malfoy blinked.

"I was thinking we could take the train," Malfoy said. "It's a bit far to fly."

Harry hummed, drinking more coffee. It was actually starting to taste alright now.

"I can tell you're going to be a riveting conversationalist today." Malfoy walked back over the the tree where the brooms were propped up, and threw them over his shoulder. "But I refuse to be disheartened on the best day of my life! Come along, Potter!"

Harry trudged after them as they made their way to the train station, nursing the remainder of his coffee.

Since the platform was almost completely deserted, they made it through the wall with ease. The conductor on the other side—a tall witch with a coppery mass of hair—seemed surprised to see two school age boys at her post during the middle of summer, but after Harry showed her his letter from McGonagall, her confusion snapped to awe.

"You—You're…" she stammered.

Malfoy grinned next to him, rocking the brooms back and forth over the curve of his shoulder. "He's Harry Potter."

The witch went red.

"Does that mean you can call the train early?" Malfoy asked.

"Malfoy, don't—"

"Yes! Yes! Of course!" The witch said excitedly, bustling off to her small office to make a call.

Harry glared at the blonde, but it was abnormally hard to glare at someone who was smiling at him like Malfoy was now.

"I've always wanted to do that," said Malfoy, pink dusting his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

"What?" Glaring was definitely becoming difficult now. "Abuse the power of my name?"

"Oh, yes." Malfoy nodded. "I fantasized about it constantly when I was a kid. Excuse me miss, this is my best friend Harry Potter, can we please have a free bag of blood lollipops? Excuse me sir, this is my best friend Harry Potter, can we cut in line? Fantasy-you spoiled me brilliantly."

"You fantasized about me being your best friend?"

"Potter, humility is not as attractive as you might think. Everyone fantasized about having you for a best friend."

Harry frowned. "Also, blood lollipops?"

"Delicious and nutritious."

"And further proof that you are, in fact, a vampire."

Malfoy's lips broke to show a spread of pearl-white teeth. "Now who's fantasizing."

Harry averted his gaze, his heart suddenly pounding much harder than it had been just a few seconds ago. He stared irately at the floor and finished the remainder of his coffee, waiting for the feeling to pass. By the time it did, the witch was bustling back towards them, and the sound of the train whistle could be heard in the distance.

"The train will be here shortly, Mr. Potter and Mr.—Er…" she stared at Malfoy, looking suddenly horrified that she didn't know his name.

"Black," Malfoy provided with a smirk.

The name sent a sharp chill down Harry's spine before he remembered that Black was Malfoy's mother's maiden name. He glanced at Malfoy curiously, but said nothing.

"Mr. Black," the witch's brow furrowed in concentration, as if she was trying to imprint the name in her mind.

Another whistle sounded as the ground began to rumble, and just as Harry turned to look back, the great, red train engine rushed into the station. A gust of wind blew Harry's hair back and made his eyes sting, but he couldn't help but smile at the familiar sight. Seeing the train felt so different now than it had just a few weeks ago. With a resounding hiss, the train slowed to a stop and it's doors swung open. After thanking the witch, Harry and Malfoy bounded onto the train, exchanging excited grins.

"Where should we sit?" Harry asked breathlessly, having never seen the train so empty before. It seemed huge. "The Head Boy and Head Girl compartment?"

"Dream bigger, Potter!" Malfoy began running towards the front of the train. "I've heard McGonagall has her own car!"

Laughing, Harry ran after him, and together they raced down the halls of the train, their feet light and quick. They pressed through the doors so fast that their limbs tangled, and they chuckled breathlessly as they pushed each other out of the way in order to get ahead. They found what must be the headmistress' car two blocks behind the engine.

Harry fell onto one of the long red couches, feeling pleasantly out of breath. Malfoy gazed around the car with a wrinkled nose before he deposited the brooms in an overhead carrier. "It's very Gryffindor," he sneered.

"What did you expect?" Harry ran a hand through his mess of hair. "McGonagall was a Gryffindor after all."

"Yes, but I've always liked McGonagall," replied Malfoy, as if his point was obvious. He took a seat in a chair across from Harry.

Harry shook his head and looked at the other boy. Somehow he felt that probing would open a can of worms he'd prefer to keep closed, so he just watched Malfoy inspect the rest of the room, one side of his nose pinched with obvious disdain.

A few minutes later the train jolted forward, and a small house elf entered the car. Harry immediately recognized her.

"Binky?"

Binky's long ears perked at the sound of her name. "Mr. Potter, sir!" she scrambled towards him excitedly. "Headmistress McGonagall is telling Binky you is coming today, sir, though I is hardly believing it! Oh, it is good to be seeing you, Mr. Potter!"

Harry patted her awkwardly between the ears. "It's good to see you too, Binky."

"And you're with—" Binky fell off in a squeak. She immediately fell to her knees and prostrated herself at Malfoy's feet.

Malfoy raised a brow and looked at Harry. "I see my reputation precedes me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Binky, it's alright, you can get up."

"B—but this i—is Mr. Malfoy!"

"Binky…"

"Dobby is used to be telling Binky all sorts of stories about Mr. Malfoy!"

The fall of Malfoy's expression was like a swift punch to Harry's gut. He sat up a little straighter. "Binky, how about you go and get us something to eat."

Nodding eagerly, Binky rushed out of the car, leaving it a very different place than it had been before she came.

Malfoy's eyes were colder than ice. "She meant my father."

Harry could only nod.

"I can only imagine what kind of stories did that filth—"

"Don't," Harry warned, "let your temper get the best of you. This is supposed to be the best day of your life, remember?"

Malfoy's following breaths were short, loud, and uneven. He crossed his arms over his chest and moved his gaze to the floor. "I don't like people talking about my father," he hissed through sharp teeth.

Harry sighed. "I know."

The Hogwarts Express came to a clumsy, lumbering stop at Hogwarts Station. Harry and Malfoy exited the train, full from their recent meal and revived from a short nap. The sun peaked brightly over the Forbidden Forest, casting the grounds in warm hues of orange and gold. Harry had never seen Hogwarts without anyone else around before. It loomed tall and dark over the horizon, a black stamp against the pale background of the sky.

Silently, Malfoy handed him a broom, and together they took off and flew towards the castle. An unearthly chill made Harry shudder as they flew over Dumbledore's grave. He could feel waves of power fluttering off of it, as if the Elder Wand was calling out to him as he passed over. Harry slicked himself closer to the broom, urging it faster.

They landed in the center of the courtyard, where McGonagall already stood, waiting. She looked much younger than the last time he'd seen her. Her long hair was pinned back into its usual neat bun, and her headmistress robes looked clean and freshly pressed.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall came forward with a smile, "it's very good to see you both. I trust you're both doing well, all things considered."

"Well enough," answered Harry.

"Well it's certainly refreshing to see the two of you not at each other's throats. At least something good could come out of…" her sharp eyes scanned the courtyard as she took a deep, steadying breath, "everything that happened." Her gaze was back on them in an instant, her lips pursed but her hands wringing in front of her excitedly. "Come on in, then! I've made us some tea."

Next to him, Malfoy whined. "Professor, it's too hot for tea."

"Mr. Malfoy you are the guest of an English lady, and as such you will be having tea."

"Also you had coffee this morning," Harry added. "And that was hot."

Malfoy made a spectacular show of glaring at Harry and pouting at McGonagall, but McGonagall had already turned away towards the entrance. She lead them through the castle corridors, which were in far better shape than Harry could've hoped. The floors were spotless and the walls restored back to their original integrity, only the faintest tickling of dark magic still leaking out into the air. It felt nice to be home again—to be back amongst the halls he had come to love and call his own.

They wound their way up several flights of stairs, making idle chitchat, before they finally found themselves standing in front of the griffon statue. Harry stared at it, his heart beating a little faster.

"Scallywag," McGonagall said, and the griffon folded its wings to reveal the stairway behind. The three started up the stairs, McGonagall lifting the front of her robes and leading the way. "I'm sorry if you don't find the office as exciting as it once was," she said conversationally. "I gave most of Dumbledore's trinkets to his brother, Abeforth, as was dictated in his will, but I was able to," she paused thoughtfully, "negotiate on a few things."

Harry felt Malfoy's eyes on him, and when he turned, the blonde was smirking at him. He seemed to be saying, 'I told you I liked McGonagall.'

McGonagall eased open the door to her office and ushered Harry and Malfoy in. Harry looked around, smiling. It was definitely much more organized than Dumbledore's sporadic display of magical objects had been, and it felt distinctly McGonagall. Crisp lines of black, silver and red ordained the room, and the walls and shelves were appropriately decorated with transfiguration diagrams, oddly shaped watches, and metallic miniatures of cats. Harry tried very hard not to think of Umbridge as he looked at the cats.

There was a small, round table with three chairs situated in the corner of the room, and McGonagall asked them to sit while she retrieved teacups from one of the cabinets. She set down three cups on the table, and with a wave of her wand, a kettle popped into view above them and began pouring tea. It smelled black, and very strong. Harry saw Malfoy grimace.

"So, what are you two doing here today? And don't try to tell me that you've come just to see me—I may be old, but I'm not that easy to fool."

Harry's hand twitched, rattling his teacup and spilling a bit of tea over the side. Another flick of McGonagall's wand cleaned it up.

"We've come to check out the repairs," Malfoy said, sparing the smallest of moments to glower at Harry before he returned his attention to McGonagall. "Some of the returning Slytherins are worried you've gone and botched the place."

McGonagall's eyebrows disappeared up into her hat line. She regarded Malfoy as one may regard a particularly sassy venomous snake. "I—yes, well, I must admit that I was surprised at how many Slytherins sent notice that they were returning next year…considering."

"Considering that most of their parents are being shipped off to Azkaban in boatloads every week and they have no where else to go?" Malfoy asked, his tone deceptively innocent.

Harry and McGonagall stared at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Malfoy lifted his teacup to his lips, blowing gently before taking a delicate sip. "I'm surprised more aren't here already. They must be staying with Pansy or Blaise."

After the initial shock, McGonagall's face fell into an array of hard lines. "That must be why so few of my other owls have been answered. Are you in touch with many of the younger Slytherins, Mr. Malfoy?"

"As many as I can be."

"Would you kindly let them know that they are welcome here any time. Any time at all. If they need someplace to stay, Hogwarts' doors are always open."

Malfoy set his cup down. The glass made a sharp sound against the wood. "With all due respect, Headmistress, I don't believe it's Hogwarts that they're worried about."

McGonagall's blue eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Potter wasn't here," Malfoy glanced pointedly at Harry. "He doesn't know what it was like, and I'm not sure I want to say in front of him."

"What?" Harry's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? Why don't you want to say what it was like?"

Stiff silence threaded itself through the air between Malfoy and McGonagall. Harry could feel the tension in it, like a pulled rubber-band ready to snap. McGonagall scraped her fingernail against the rim of her cup. "I'm aware that inter-house tensions got a bit…out of hand," she said slowly.

"A bit?" Malfoy's voice was just on the edge of scathing. "Susan Bones tried to push Astoria Greengrass off one of the moving staircases! And Pansy was sick for nearly two weeks after a third year hit her with a tapeworm hex!"

Cold disbelief filled Harry's chest like a balloon. He stared at Malfoy, then McGonagall, then back again. "There were fights?"

"We were under staffed," McGonagall argued.

"Mix that with a healthy dose of 'die evil Slytherins die' and you've hit the nail on the head, Professor."

McGonagall, who had probably not been spoken to with such an obvious lack of respect within the past two decades, nearly choked on her tea. "Mr. Malfoy," she sputtered.

Malfoy smiled brightly at her. "If you're about to ask me if I'm suggesting that some of the teachers aided in encouraging student hostility, my answer is an unwavering yes."

"What?" Harry felt the edge of his cup crack.

"I'm well aware of everything that the staff was a part of last year, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall snapped. "I did not, however, know that any of the students were aware." She huffed, straightening out the collar of her robes. "I assure you that they've all been taken care of."

"I hope you mean sacked," Malfoy said.

The headmistress pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, that is what I mean."

"Good. I'll pass the message on."

"There were fights?" Harry repeated petulantly.

"Don't be so dramatic, Potter," Malfoy waved him off, grinning like a cheshire cat once more. "I'll tell you about it later. Right now we're enjoying tea!"

McGonagall shook her head. "I didn't think it was possible, but the two of you might be even more trouble when you're not fighting."

"You know," Malfoy said, "this tea is surprisingly good."

By the time Harry and Malfoy were able to escape McGonagall's office, it was well into the afternoon. They'd gotten a tour and an overly detailed explanation of the reconstruction process, and by the end of it Harry was quite sure McGonagall was just trying to keep them from wandering off into the castle alone. Strangely enough, it was Peeves who came to their rescue, having set fire to an office on the fifth floor which McGonagall had to run and attend to.

The moment McGonagall rounded the corner, Malfoy's eyes were on Harry, feverish and demanding. "Chamber time?"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "You make it sound dirty."

"Potter!"

Harry laughed. "Yes, yes, come on!" He took off at a run, Malfoy right on his heels. They made their way down to the second floor and Harry made a beeline for the girls lavatory.

"You're joking right?" Malfoy said, as they came to a stop in front of the door. "My great and worthy ancestor put the entrance to his secret cavern in a girl's lavatory?"

Harry shrugged, pushing open the door. "At least he wasn't sexist. Also it might not have always been a girl's lavatory."

"Or perhaps he was transgender!" Malfoy exclaimed, following Harry into the bathroom.

"That would've been—er—very modern of him."

"Come to think of it, he always did look especially effeminate in all of his portraits. Do you think hey had mascara back in the medieval times?"

Harry nearly choked. "Hey look!" Harry pointed, his voice ringing off the tile, high and cracked. "A snake!"

"Where?"

Harry took him over to the sinks, and showed Malfoy a small metallic snake that was coiled around a sink tap: incidentally, the only tap that didn't work. Malfoy leaned in closer to look, steadying himself with a hand on Harry's arm. Harry held very still, feeling oddly light headed and very warm. His blood seemed to be carbonating—bubbles growing and bursting like pinpricks beneath his skin.

Malfoy looked up at him, his grey eyes pale against the backdrop of porcelain. "Does it do anything?"

Harry nodded and bent down next to Malfoy, very aware that his hand still hadn't moved. He stared at the snake, concentrating on the way light played off its scales. He took a deep breath and said, "Open."

A soft, burning hiss spilled over his lips, and Harry felt Malfoy go tense beside him.

Malfoy's hand left his arm. "I forgot you could do that," he said shakily. "That's—" But the sound of scraping stone cut him off as the sink began to move. It sank slowly into the ground, disappearing into the expanse of a large pipe.

Harry stared down at it. He remembered it being much bigger when he was twelve.

"This is so fucking cool."

"Ready to go down?" Harry asked.

"Now who sounds dirty?"

"Malfoy!"

"Can we jump?" Malfoy was breathless and brimming with excitement as he looked at Harry. He seemed very young. "I want to jump."

With an answering smile, Harry grabbed him by the wrist and jumped. Malfoy let out a sharp, bursting sound that echoed off the pipe as they fell. There was the briefest feeling of weightlessness, where there was nothing around him but air and Malfoy's arm clutched tight in his hand, and then the first slope of the pipe leveled out and suddenly they were sliding. Malfoy let out another whoop as they twisted and turned down deep into the lowest reaches of the castle, clinging tightly to Harry's side as they sped faster and faster down the water-slicked pipes. Harry laughed alongside him, feeling lighter than he had in years.

The pipe finally siphoned them off into the long hall and a puddle of black water. Still grinning, Malfoy got to his feet and helped Harry up. "You should've told me that I would need a swimsuit."

"And miss out on all of your complaining about wet robes and shoes? I think not!"

"Complain? Who's complaining? Contrary to popular belief, I'm not actually a snob."

Harry raised a brow, smirking. "Yes you are."

"Alright I am, but I'm not as stuck up about it as some people are!"

"And how are your shoes feeling, Malfoy?"

"Like mushy pools of black death! I'll have to throw them out once I get home!" Malfoy tried to sneer, but couldn't seem to break free of the smile that had cemented itself on his face. "Come on, Potter and show me more of this chamber. I know Slytherin wouldn't make a maze of pipe slides just to come down to a slimy cave."

Harry laughed again, and nodded. "This way." Harry led Malfoy down the length of the hall, listening to the sound of his breath quicken as the first parts of the inner sanctum started to come into view.

They took a step up out of the water and torches with radiant green fire burst to life around them, illuminating tall statues of bowed up snakes that curled up into the rock walls. The hall then fanned out into a great expanse of flat rock, the ceiling swelling up high above them. One by one the torches lit, circling around them and spreading light across the basilisk-sized tunnels that lined the rounded room. And in the room's center was a giant skeleton, its skull set with its jaw open, and its few remaining teeth bared.

Malfoy stopped. Harry stopped next to him.

"Is that…" Malfoy took a quick, shuddering breath. "That can't be a…"

"A basilisk?" Harry offered.

"How would you know what basilisk remains looks like? They're five-X classified!" He said the phrase like it was supposed to impress Harry in some way.

Harry glanced over at the skeleton, the distant memory sifting through his mind. "I know because I killed it."

Malfoy goggled at him.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You killed it?" Malfoy exclaimed, sounding incredibly offended.

"Well it attacked me first!"

"Well of course it bloody attacked you, it's a bloody basilisk! They're five-X classified!"

Harry looked dubious. "So you said."

Malfoy made an exasperated sound and threw his arms up in the air before marching over towards the basilisk skull. He tapped the bottom of its jawline with the toe of his boot. "So why was Dumbledore keeping a basilisk down here anyway?"

"It wasn't Dumbledore's, it was Salazar Slytherin's."

Malfoy's grey eyes went wide as saucers. "And you killed it?"

"I think the fact that it's dead has been pretty well established considering—you know—the skeleton."

Malfoy climbed on top of the skull, balancing precariously on its ridges. "It's just hard to believe."

Harry wandered closer to the basilisk, watching Malfoy's feet closely in case he slipped. It made him nervous that Malfoy's shoes were so wet. "What is?" he asked.

"I always thought that you overcame life's obstacles through a mixture of favoritism and sheer dumb luck. Of course, that belief was heavily influenced by the fact that I was informed by numerous credible sources that counting to three was your idea of a good plan." Malfoy hopped onto one of the ribs, his arms spread as he teetered.

"Counting to three isn't…a bad plan."

Malfoy looked at him, his stare withering. "I take back the compliment I was about to give."

Harry pouted. "You can't take it back if you haven't even said it yet."

"Fool! A Malfoy does as he pleases!" Malfoy hopped to the next rib and Harry flinched.

"Will you please stop doing that? You're making me nervous."

Again Malfoy jumped. "Doing what?"

"That!" Harry snapped.

Smirking, Malfoy leapt down from the skeleton to the floor, landing with a graceful flourish. He leaned in close, and Harry felt his breath hot against his nose. "You're such a worry wart, Potter. You didn't expect me to fall off into your arms in some cliche, emasculating display, did you?" Malfoy turned on his heel, facing the basilisk once more. "How did you kill it anyway?"

Harry frowned at his back, his face still warm from the breath that lingered there. "Godric Gryffindor's sword. I pulled it out of the Sorting Hat."

Malfoy whirled on him, bright-eyed. "Like a rabbit?"

"Er…I suppose so."

"Godric Gryffindor's sword, you said?"

"Yes."

"Merlin's beard, you really did get to have all the fun," said Malfoy, with obvious envy. "You know most of us at this school just went to class and watched Quidditch like normal children."

Harry laughed. "How dull!"

"Yes, not nearly dying every year of my life was exceedingly dull. How ever will I make up for the lack of near-death experiences that I was so cruelly deprived of?"

"I…" Harry's chest tightened, compressing his lungs. He twined his fingers together and looked down at them. "I liked…feeling useful."

The edge of Malfoy's mouth curled ever so slightly. "If that's all it was, then I think you might have gone a bit overboard. Defeating a Dark Lord is trite more than being useful you know."

"But it wasn't not useful," Harry remarked, smiling.

The emotion that traveled across Malfoy's grey eyes was soft and secretive. "Indeed it wasn't."

"All that's done now though. It seems like I'm done with…being a trite more than useful."

"Oh, don't bore me with your dramatic sob story, Potter," Malfoy drawled. "Come now, tell me something more interesting. I never did get to hear who the Slytherin heir was our second year and I'm morbidly curious."

Even amongst the countless bad memories Harry had acquired over the years, that one still held a spot amongst the top. He remembered the writing in blood on the walls, and the look on Hermione's face after she'd been petrified. Harry walked over next to Malfoy so that they were shoulder to shoulder and leaned back against the basilisk's skull. "It was Tom Riddle."

Malfoy made a sputtering noise. "Tom Riddle…as in—"

"Not the version that you know," Harry took his glasses off and began cleaning them on his robes. "It was the version of him that was still sixteen that he trapped in his diary. That diary was…it was one of his Horcruxes. It was one of the things that kept him alive eighteen years ago when he should have died."

If Malfoy wondered what a Horcrux was, he didn't ask. Instead, he asked, "So you mean to tell me that a diary was marching around the school writing on walls with chicken blood and controlling a basilisk?"

"Oh, no." Harry glanced at Malfoy's profile. The green light highlighted the sharp tip of his nose and the jutting point of his chin. "Your fa—erm—Ginny ended up with the diary, and Tom possessed her through it. She's the one who opened the chamber. She's the one who…controlled the basilisk."

The following beat of silence that was harsh and unwavering. "Ginny," Malfoy said her name carefully, his gaze remaining trained on the ground. "You were about to say that my father gave her that diary, weren't you."

Harry didn't respond.

"I remember seeing it around the manor when I was younger, and then when I came back home after second year, it had a giant hole in it. I knew he'd slipped something in her bag that day at the bookshop, but I'd never been able to piece it together."

Harry only nodded, feeling his voice dry up in his throat.

"Why her though, do you think?" Malfoy looked at him then, the rims of his eyes glistening. "Of all the people why her? He could've given it to me. Back then, I would've…"

"The possession wasn't an easy thing. There's a part of that darkness that will stay with Ginny for the rest of her life. Your father probably knew that."

"Even still, he should have given it to me," Malfoy said darkly. "It was…that diary was our family's burden to bear. It should never have gone to her."

"But it did."

The line between Malfoy's lips grew thin. "My father has never thought I was strong enough. He's never been able to trust me. He thought my obsession with you was—" Malfoy cut himself off, clearing his throat and turning his head away once more. "It's getting late. We should probably go before McGonagall throws a fit and calls the Aurors."

Harry couldn't help but feel uneasy in the wake of Malfoy's words. It was hard to know how he felt, considering the stark difference between his feelings towards Malfoy and his feelings towards Lucius. Father and son seemed so different to him now, and somehow it was strange because they had once been inseparable in his mind. He wondered when exactly that had changed.

"Potter?"

Harry hummed.

Malfoy shifted his weight, almost nervously. "Before we take the train back, can you…take me to the place where Snape died?"

The pang in Harry's heart was like an arrow that shot straight through. "Yes. Of course I can."

"Brilliant. Also, I'm taking one of these fangs."