A/N: So...I've decided to delete Hermione as a supporting character in the header. Just as a tag, not as a character in the story. She will still appear from time to time, but I'm simply not counting on her making any major appearances as I may have to begin with, and I don't want to string readers along, hoping for the frequent appearance of her. It's something I should have done long ago. Sorry.

I hope you'll stay put, and as a small 'consolation prize', here's a character whom some of you have hoped to see:

Chapter 27: Visiting an old friend

"Don't get me wrong, Draco. I'm pleased to see you intact, as always," Blaise said. "But fuck it's cold!"

Draco barked a dry laugh. "Bloody right it is!"

Having to ask for special leave from none other than McGonagall herself, the Headmistress had managed to pull enough strings to let Blaise go to Svalbard for a weekend to visit Draco. On the one condition that he solemnly promised to be as transparent about his visit as possible. Not that he wasn't used to hearing the same old song by now. It may have been his stupidest decision yet, but he wasn't going to let some pompous Auror dictate the rest of his life. A Zabini didn't let himself cow this easily. He would just have to bear the consequences of whatever creative, insinuating accusations Rowe would come up with afterwards.

"What were you even thinking?" Blaise spoke between clattering teeth, stamping his feet to incite warmth back into his frosted toes. Expensive Italian footwear was not designed for this kind of climate.

"Hell if I know!" the blond responded as they continued walking along the outer walls of Durmstrang. "I just needed to get away and finish my NEWTS. This seemed like the obvious choice back then."

Blaise shook his head in incredulity. "But why not choose Beauxbatons instead? At least, there you get temperatures above corpse stage, and you speak French; you could easily manoeuvre your charming ways around that school."

"Aw, missing my charms, are we now, Zabini?" Draco jested with a sharp punch to his bicep, making the Italian respond with an annoyed grunt. Malfoy's antics could be eerily similar to those of Theo's and he wasn't sure he needed more of those.

Expelling a last amused puff of air, Draco rolled his shoulders once more. "I thought about Beauxbatons, but then I decided I couldn't stand the goody-two-shoes snobbery of those frog-eaters."

Surreptitiously, Blaise rolled his eyes at his friend's juvenile display. That hadn't vanished, it seemed. However, under the surface, he suspected Draco's choice had more to do with the French school's post-war canonization of the oldest Delacour sister (now Weasley); a decision that didn't particularly favoured anyone with the name of Malfoy to come join them.

"Besides," the blond beside him continued in admittance, "I had heard rumours about Durmstrang being more... lenient towards wizards who have dappled with the Dark Arts. Evidently, it appears." He gave a sneer reminiscent of the old days, but it was highly strange to see it used in a reversed context. Turning the tables on him, he countered. "And if you're so avid about it, Blaise, why didn't you choose Beauxbatons? All those French girls... Practically a walking buffet for you. And you'd be closer to home in every sense."

Blaise ignored the taunt and gave a shrug. "Mainly 'cause of Theo, you know? He's got no one left and is not as well-connected as you and I. He didn't have a lot of options when they took his family estate after Nott Sr. was imprisoned. My returning to Hogwarts seemed the obvious thing, no matter how much I... dislike the place. Besides, you've always known my Italian is better than my French." He winked, lightening the mood, and Draco snorted out loud.

"Yeah. That I do know."

They walked further along the edges of the school, following the rugged trails in the snow. Having once regarded the Scottish Highlands around Hogwarts as barren and desolate, Blaise now had a whole new meaning of the concept as he took in their surroundings.

"So," he drawled after a while. "No Aurors tailing you?"

Draco responded with a huff. "Fuck if I know! Probably. I have no idea." He gave a sharp, futile shrug. "Would honestly be a bit surprised if they weren't."

Blaise hummed his bitter agreement. "With the level of interest the smaller army of Aurors at Hogwarts is currently taking in my bloody affairs, I would be surprised if you don't have the collective arsenal of Aurors in Europe stalking you!"

Draco scoffed then seemed to mull over the matter some more. "I have had my suspicions every now and then. But then again, attending Durmstrang, looking over your shoulder becomes second nature."

"Really?" the Italian droned, doubtful even of that.

"It's like going to school with Slytherins only. Trust is not a thing to easily come by; you get the feeling everyone is running their own grandiose agendas and you quickly get the gist about how things are done here."

Blaise regarded him raised eyebrows. "Are you, Draco Malfoy, actually saying that the feeling of living out the potential 'dream'-scenario of a Pureblooded world, had Boy Wonder not won the war, is objectionable to you?" He barely withheld the laugh in his voice. "Someone alert the Prophet!"

Draco grunted in obvious annoyance. "I'd rather kiss an Acromantula."

"I'm sure that could be arranged in a place like this. Probably into some weird shite here, I'd imagine."

"Oh, come off it, will you!"

Scratching the back of his neck, Blaise breathed a small, incredulous chuckle. "Geesh, Drake; you have changed."

Clearly discomforted now, the other wizard shuffled his feet, face set in a scowl. "Will you drop it?!"

"Okay, okay." He held up his hands. "But you must admit, it sounds bloody weird listening to those things coming out of your mouth."

"Yeah, yeah," the blond murmured, quick to change the subject. "What's up with you, by the way? You seem oddly distracted."

Damn Draco and his shrewd observation skills.

Blaise regained his mask. "I don't know what you're on about, mate. The ice must have gone to your head." And damn it if I'm not acting exactly like Theo when confronted!

"Come on, Zabini, I may be blond but I'm not stupid."

"Could have fooled me."

Overlooking the insult, Draco steadfastly continued. "What is it? The Aurors? Theo? A girl? Mommy dearest? Something's the matter, but I just can't seem to read how deep it goes." He eyed him speculatively.

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not in the mood for this, Draco."

Determined to poke the bear, the other wizard pursed his lips in contemplation like some psychotherapist. "Maybe all of those things..."

"I see no point in going any further into this."

"Clearly, lady trouble."

"Can we just drop the subject?"

"And mommy dearest is always haunting you in some way or another."

"Draco..."

"I can't imagine Theo having laid off the booze either."

"Hm."

"But since you brought up the subject of Aurors, I reckon that's the most pressing obstacle at the moment. Am I right?"

"You are right; at the moment, I just want to wring that scrawny neck of yours."

"Ah. It is all coming back to bite you in the arse, isn't it?"

Exhaling heavily, Blaise looked skywards. Clearly, he had brought this upon himself. "I don't know why I came here, frankly."

"I think you just missed me."

"Yes, you have so many amiable traits, people simply cannot stay away."

Draco uttered a small grunt. "Touché."

They continued to walk a bit in silence, before Malfoy finally turned on him. "No, but seriously, mate; I appreciate the visit and all, but what's up? I know you didn't come all the way up here just to chit-chat."

With a relenting sigh, Blaise decided he might as well confide in him. He wasn't about to spill all the details of his and Weasley's little run-ins, though. Especially not the latest one. Draco would merely take full advantage of it if he knew.

"... And if it weren't for that Zelenko sod stirring up shite –"

"Zelenko?" Draco interrupted him near the end of his recount, his brow furrowed. "That sounds... Eastern European. Ukrainian – if I'm not mistaken."

Blaise's ears pricked up. "It does?"

The other wizard hummed with a nod. "Teacher?"

"Yeah, started in the new term. Right wanker, that one."

"Is he now?"

Blaise didn't care much for Draco's insinuating tone nor the way the blond observed him quietly for a second longer than comfortable. "Yes. He is." The retort was grated out. "If you met him, you'd agree."

"Oh, so it is not just because he, for some creepy reason, has set his eyes on the She-Weasel that you should feel so disinclined towards his character?"

The Italian smothered the urge to violently wipe the smirk off his friend's face.

"Quit calling her that, Drake, and no, that is not just why. He was a tosser right from the beginning in class. The fact that he has some weird obsession with a student doesn't help, though."

"No?" the pale boy intoned coyly.

"Cut it out! No, it doesn't. If it wasn't for the Dementor, Dorne and a hexed Bludger showing up about the same time as him, I'd let it go over my head as some...inappropriate hero-worshipping on his part. But there's something shady about that guy. Something... off. You said his surname could be Ukrainian?"

"Yes," the blond deadpanned, still regarding him with a curious gleam to his eyes.

Why, oh, why did he have to find friends that possessed the same perceptive qualities as he did?

"Right. Could be a former Durmstrang then," Blaise suggested, choosing to ignore his wariness towards Draco's quick inner deductions. "Couldn't he?"

"Quite possibly, yes." Draco shot him another questioning look. "Where are you going with all this again?"

"Well..." Blaise let the word linger on his tongue, then braced himself and dived into his slowly-forming theory, "I can't help but wonder if there is a connection between him or his past, his abnormal interest in Weasley as well as the Dementor and a former Snatcher appearing near the school –"

"Whoa, there," the other boy held up his hands, silver-blond eyebrows raised to dramatic heights. "You are sounding way too much like a Gryffindor right now, you know that, right?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, tell me all about it. Happens when you've spent too much time in the company of one," he muttered sardonically before he could stop himself.

Shite.

He watched begrudgingly as Draco's features melted into a cat-that-got-the-cream look.

"So," the boy drawled, grating Blaise's nerves to no end. "You have spent an exceeding amount of time with the Weasley girl then?"

"I didn't say it was her, did I now?" came the testy response.

"No," Draco concurred before regarding him with a leer. "But you didn't have to. It was quite obvious. And since when have you stopped using our beloved Weasel-slurs?"

With a huff, Blaise sent him a withering glare and snapped. "Alright, back to the matter at hand. Do you think there could be a connection somewhere? Or is it all just a 'happy' coincidence?"

Draco, having composed himself, though he kept sending him sly looks, gestured casually with one hand. "Well, it's not like Durmstrang just breeds Dark Wizards – or Mages as they call them here," he added mockingly. "But you know it is infamous for having Dark Arts high on the curriculum. Quite unapologetic about it, by the way." Suppressing a mild shudder, he went on, "Weirdly enough, they're not as affected by the outcome of the war as they are back in good ol' Britain. They pretty much run their own show up here, so you can imagine the level of arrogance..." With a derisive grunt, his tone turned slightly disbelieving, "I have to say, I'd never expect to meet a group of people more hidebound than the British upper-class wizards, but, apparently, there is. Many still staunchly believe in Blood Purity here."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Draco scoffed. "Believe me; I have already had several 'offers'," he air quoted. "They probably think they can milk the Malfoy name to further their 'cause' or whatever, the ruddy fuckers. Let's just say I politely declined. Like I'd accept! I have had my run for my money on that account, thank you very much!"

The Italian regarded him with a deadpan expression. "Excuse me for not feeling sorry about your situation and for pointing out the obvious, Drake, but you chose to move to this gods-forsaken place."

The other boy gave a bored shrug. "Yeah, so? It wasn't like I knew what the crowd over here was actually like. I just wanted to get away from all the mess back home. Start afresh. Apparently, that's not something easily obtained for people like us. But then again, I don't suppose it was meant to be."

Blaise eyed Draco's jaded disposition then exhaled ruefully. "No, I can follow you there, mate."

After a beat, the blond emitted a humourless chortle. "I'm sure my father would have loved it here, though."

A wry smile played on Blaise's lips. "Oh, he'd fit right in."

Realizing they were verging on a more sensitive issue, Blaise steered back to the subject at hand. "So. You think Zelenko could be Imperiused?"

Draco clicked his tongue. "Could be. But by who? The Weaslette seems a rather specific target for some random Death Eater who escaped the noose. I can't think of anyone who would have an interest and who isn't already dead or imprisoned. You?"

Blaise shook his head but added, "Though that doesn't mean it's not unlikely. She is pretty much world-famous –" he ignored Draco's dramatic snort "– and loads of the lesser known and non-British Death Eaters still got free..."

"Tell me about it," Malfoy muttered under his breath.

"Well, wouldn't you seize the chance to get hold of the second-most famous Gryffindor Princess if you were a Death Eater on the run, hoping to revive the 'cause'?"

He was partly serious but couldn't help the small dig at his friend's circumstances, earning a glare that could have melted the snow around them from the other boy. They were both eternally grateful for the outcome of the trials last summer regarding their own cases, and though it had been emotionally taxing and stressful to wait for the postponed verdict, they had since learned to regard the entire affair with ironic distance.

"Ha bloody ha, Blaise," Draco sneered, his lanky form hunched, and stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. "You've got some Muggle wire hiding underneath those fancy robes of yours?"

Raising his hands, Blaise held back a snicker. "Sorry, couldn't resist, mate."

They went on trekking through the ankle-deep snow, the bitter winter cold biting their cheeks.

"You know," Draco contemplated then. "I could ask around about that Zelenko bloke, plus if there's been any suspicious activities concerning that little buddy of yours, Dorne. If anyone should know anything, it'll probably be the folks around here."

"Discreetly?"

Draco appeared offended. "Of course."

"Hm." Blaise didn't doubt it, but who would have paid mind to a measly little nobody like Dorne sniffing around the grounds the past year or so? It was likely crawling with sycophants like him in a place such as this where all the remaining Pureblood elitists had gathered their brainwashed offspring, Draco not included.

Zelenko, however, was another matter.

"Or," Draco suggested, "I could inquire about the 'hottest' Dark Artefacts this term? I'm sure I'd get a list long enough to make even Scarhead's dainty eyes pop out from behind those awful specs."

Blaise chose not to comment on Draco's detailed barb towards his old rival. "That's all very fine, Drake, but I didn't exactly get a good look at the object, if it even is a Dark Artefact. I have no idea what to look for."

"No," Draco droned with a familiar supercilious tone, "but you know whose hands it was in."

"So?"

"So," he continued impatiently, "I may... know someone who has the kind of connections to find out who has been buying Dark Artefacts as of late."

Though Blaise remained doubtful, his interest was nonetheless piqued. "You mean, on the Black Market?" Draco's poker face told him everything there was to tell. "Merlin's balls, Drake. What is it you don't understand about staying out of the limelight for the time being?"

A brief sly gleam surfaced in the blond's pale-grey eyes. "It's not like they're looking that close into every branch. Besides, I have my studies to consider and having knowledge of underground activities – without directly participating in them – can put me in advantage regarding certain future...endeavours." He left the word hanging there, innocently enough, though Blaise, knowing the boy, was able to put two and two together.

"You're not still thinking of becoming an Unspeakable, are you?" Draco shot him a glance but said nothing, confirming his suspicions. "Blimey, Drake." Blaise rubbed a palm along his neck. His friend really wasn't kidding around. But how on earth would he manage something so ambitious considering everything he touched was tainted by the name of Malfoy?

"I know what you're thinking," Draco ruminated beside him, answering Blaise's silent question. "But I have a plan, you know. And I'm not about to go down the wrong path and ruin everything like I did the last time." It would have sounded ominous if the sincere infliction in his voice hadn't given him away. Everything pointed to Draco trying to find his footing again, this time in the right direction.

Hopefully.

Huh. Never would Blaise have thought himself to be the hopeful type. He always held the belief in having a healthy portion of scepticism towards everything on this forsaken planet.

Perhaps the sentimental influence of hanging around former Gryffindors wasn't so detestable, after all.

For a while only the sound of the snow crushing softly under their feet could be heard as Blaise peered sidelong at his friend. "I don't doubt you, Drake," he then finally sighed, his voice devoid of any sarcasm this time.

Staring ahead again, he took in the snowy scenery of barren nothingness, save a sparse scattering of windblown trees in the horizon. They had reached a more rigorous part of their path and agreed to turn around and head back to the castle walls.

Reaching the main gate, Draco spoke again. "By the way, there's an extensive collection of books on the Dark Arts here. Some of which would never even have been allowed on Hogwarts. If you need to find information on something which could be used to do irrevocable damage, you would probably find it here. And, we have no Restricted Section in our Library." Blaise couldn't decipher whether Draco sounded gleeful or apprehensive about the fact.

"I can't very well return to Hogwarts and report back that I have been researching Dark Artefacts at Durmstrang. Won't exactly go over well with the board of 'opinion-makers'."

The blond snorted. "Since when have you become such a mug for moral behaviour?"

Blaise sent him a flat look. "Not all of us just run off when the going gets tough, Draco. I have a reputation to uphold; no matter how much I want to solve this mystery, or what to call it."

Pursing his lips, Draco grumbled under his breath. "Yeh, well, you still have the semblance of a family to come back to."

"But Theo hasn't," Blaise spelled out for the second time, irritated with Draco's incessant pity-party. "You get why I can't leave him behind, don't you? I don't care how much of a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff that makes me. And you still have your mother, Drake. Look at what prime example of motherhood my mother is – wherever she is!"

The blond groused, slightly upset but conceding to the point. "So," he spoke somewhat sourly, "do you want me to find out or not?"

Blaise blinked. "About what?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco stopped by the looming main entrance and turned fully towards him. "About Zelenko? Dorne?" he hissed under his breath, gesturing one lanky arm into the spiky air before snatching it back to his body, shuddering slightly. "About who's been buying or selling Dark Artefacts of a particular notorious kind as of late?"

"Ah." Blaise stopped as well, having almost forgotten about the issue at hand in the heat of the argument. Arching a pale eyebrow at him, the blond looked him up and down, waiting impatiently for an answer. "If it doesn't get any of us anymore in the soup than it already has..." Blaise posed, eyeing the other wizard who merely heaved a sigh and shot him a look that said 'you really doubt my discretion that much?', "...then I guess it wouldn't hurt to find out some more."

"Thank you!" Draco breathed in consternation, white steam momentarily clouding his face in the cold. "Now, how about a nice warm toddy with some of the Firewhiskey I've had stashed away to warm those saintly limbs of yours before they fall off?"

Having not been able to feel his nose or fingers, not to mention his toes, for the past twenty-five minutes, Blaise didn't stop to think twice about the offer. "Yes, please. Preferably served by a fresh-faced young maiden, I hope?" He smirked, his long legs carrying him swiftly inside as Draco did another eye-roll, following behind.

"You haven't changed one bit, old boy."