Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.

Journals, Polyjuice and Prejudice.

If there's a way, that you can be;

Everything you want to be;

Would you complain that it came to you too easily?

Our Broken Hearts - Lostprophets

Draco eyed his friend from over his goblet. Samael was engaged in conversation with Daphne Greengrass; the latter of which seemed to be animatedly engrossed in whatever the topic matter was, whilst Samael's mouth was curling into that smirk he loved to bless the populace with.

Swirling the goblet in his hand, which earned him a raised eyebrow from Samael, he contemplated the night before. Samael had stayed ensconced within Draco's arms for at least a further ten minutes, they shared neither verbal assurance, nor did they 'Merlin forbid' snuggle, but the blonde liked to think that he offered Samael some comfort for the confusion he was undoubtedly feeling.

'Five years? How little that seems in comparison to the torture Samael endured!' pale fingers clenched white around the goblet stem. 'Though I suppose with Dumbledore as Head of Wizengamot it is a blessing they received that much, but how I would love to give them what Samael received.'

Speaking of the Headmaster, he was currently sitting like a rather unpleasant centrepiece at the Head Table, locked in a furious debate with Professor McGonagall. The new 'or should that be returning?' Charms Professor – Filius Flitwick – was sitting aside the Deputy Headmistress shooting self-satisfied smirks to Dumbledore. 'Well isn't that interesting?'

Draco idly noted that Robert Potter hadn't dared to show his face at breakfast. The Prophet had eagerly been received by both staff and student alike, and he didn't dare tempt the anger of the aghast crowds, especially since large photos of the abused Harry Potter were emblazoned across the front page. The blonde was pretty sure he could still hear Pansy Parkinson's diatribe despite being halfway down the table from her, as she vehemently declared her hatred of the Potter parents.

"Draco?" Samael's soft voice called, and silver eyes immediately flew to Samael's emeralds. "May I speak with you outside?" Draco swiftly agreed, and the two of them made their way to an empty classroom. Inquisitive silver eyes peered at Samael as he perched himself upon a desk.

Draco withheld a huff of exasperation when instead of talking about whatever he wished to speak about, Samael decided to take an avid interest in the notes at the front of the room. "Is there something you wanted, Samael?" the question was airy, yet he was sure Samael heard the impatience.

Samael glanced up, his milky complexion brightening as his cheeks flushed red. 'Merlin, I don't think I've ever seen him blush.' Hopping off the desk, he approached his friend whose emerald eyes were guarded. "Samael?" he didn't dare touch the Lestrange, or attempt to renew the physical closeness they felt only hours before; Draco doubted it would be appreciated.

Clouded eyes cleared, and Samael's gimlet stare was fixed on the blonde, (Draco would never tell, but the flush on Samael's cheeks combined with that stare only made him look adorable). "I wish to thank you."

Draco's face morphed into one of confusion. "Whatever for?" the words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them.

It was Samael's turn to look confused. "For last night," he murmured, the words staining his cheeks even further. "For…comforting me when I was in such a despicable state."

"It was what any frie-" Draco stopped his sentence, when he realised that he was the only friend the Lestrange had, (and if a wave of satisfaction met that thought, then he wouldn't bother upon it), so instead he smiled softly. "You're welcome, Samael, that is what I am here for."

A carefully sculpted eyebrow rose at this. "You meant to say, that your sole purpose on this earth is to be my shoulder to cry on?" His amusement was evident in his dancing eyes, and upturned lips.

Draco wasn't as humorous. "Amongst other things, yes." His voice was serious and steadfast. 'I see that you weren't expecting that, my dear Samael,' he mused as Samael's mouth opened and then closed silently. Glancing upon the look of utter shock on the Lestrange, Draco pondered. 'How shall I prove my affections? Perhaps, it is too early to think of such matters, considering that you are ill-acquainted with friendship. I shall simply monopolise your time then; I shall not lose you to some mongrel ill-deserving of your attention.'

Regaining his composure, Samael inclined his head at Draco, and left the room without a word. Draco loped after the Lestrange in a graceful stride. "Potions begin in half an hour," the blonde announced after a glance to the gigantean hour-glass aside the castle entrance and he hid is grin as Samael relaxed at the normalcy of the conversation.

"Shall we go see Severus then? Undoubtedly, he will wish for some company before the dunderheads arrive." Samael acerbically drawled in a perfect imitation of the Potions Master. Draco only shook his head in amusement, and matched his stride to Samael's.

"Yes, I would hate it if Severus was to tear his beautiful hair out in frustration," Draco easily replied.

"Such a shame that would be," Samael agreed, smiling good-naturedly at the blonde. Draco counted it a success that their banter was restored to its usual state, and a satisfied smirk wormed its way onto his face.

A comfortable silence reigned between the two of them as they traversed the bowels of the castle, the only noise reaching their ears being the slap of their dragon-hide shoes against the flagstone floors.

"Samael! Draco!" a familiar voice frantically called from ahead, and the two Slytherins saw Andras sprinting towards them, a book clutched firmly in his hand.

"Andras?" the worried question flew from his lips before he could stop it. "What has got you so bothered?"

The Ravenclaw's breath was laboured when he caught up to them, and he leant unceremoniously against Samael. "Here," he declared, thrusting the book under Samael's nose. "It's your brother's." Emerald and silver eyes widened alike, their gaze flitting between the book and the panting first-year.

Samael recovered first as he took the offered book, and opened the cover. Sharp, intense, eyes pierced into the Snape. "How did you come across this?"

Andras offered a quirky grin, but his concern showed through the teeth gnawing his lower lip. "Ginny found it in the Library in September, I didn't realise it was your brother's 'til I remembered his name."

'Well, isn't this day turning into one of wonders?'

Samael nodded sharply at the younger boy, but his eyes were still staring at the book. "There's something else," and it was the worry in the boy's voice, that had Samael deeming him with a small grin. "Ginny said that he…that is your brother has been replying to what she's been writing. I…I think he's put magic in there so that it's sentient," Both of the Slytherins' eyebrows shot into their hairline at this. "She…she said that he taught her a word in parseltongue so that he could be reunited with his snake…"

'Oh Merlin,' Draco paled, his eyes shooting to Samael's. "The basilisk." The Lestrange only nodded in agreement, before his expression schooled into one Draco recognised as thought.

"Self-inking quill," came the brisk command, as he placed his hand out in Draco's direction; Draco swiftly complied. Following after the Lestrange, Draco and Andras both stared at the other boy's back, as he leant the book into the wall and wrote his calligraphic scrawl on the page.


The words only lasted for seconds before they were absorbed into the parchment, completely vanishing before their eyes. A short while later and the reply came, the handwriting shockingly similar to that of the Lestrange.

Hello. You are not Ginny; may I enquire into your identity?

Draco peeked at his friend's face; it was still drilled into the look of concentration.

My name is Samael Lestrange, do you recognise the name?

Draco scoffed at the words, 'Everyone knows of a Lestrange,' Samael gave him a withering look over his shoulder, but it seemed as if the Dark Lord had similar thoughts.

I am acquainted with an Alphard Lestrange, certainly, but I do not recognise your name, I am sorry. Are you a relation of his?

"How can that be?" Draco heard himself asking, "You are his magical brother, he surely knows of you."

Andras appeared thoughtful. "Unless this diary…book was created before he met you, which would make sense since Ginny says she found it in the library, and let's be honest, when was the last time your brother was at Hogwarts?"

Draco refrained from mentioning that it was only a couple of months ago that the Dark Lord was teaching them Defence against the Dark Arts.

"In that case, the magic in this book is from my brother when he was a student here…" Samael trailed off, and Draco recognised the expression as his 'devious planning' face. 'Well,' Draco thought to himself, as the Lestrange stalked into the Potions classroom 'It is safe to say that things are going to get interesting.'

Frigid eyes swivelled at the sound of the door opening, before they softened ever so slightly in understanding. The furious form of Bellatrix Lestrange came striding into the room, the crumpled form of the Daily Prophet suffering in her hand, and only seconds passed before Rodolphus followed after.

"My Lord," the words were apologetic, as he glanced between said Lord, and his wife.

Voldemort relaxed in his chair, as he dropped the quill upon the desk. "Ah, Bellatrix, Rodolphus. I take it that you have read this morning's paper?"

Rodolphus managed a small nod, as he attempted to calm Bellatrix down by pulling her into a hug.

"Only five years!" the witch fumed, her curled hair flaring in all directions in response to her infamous temper. "Those…those…bastards!" she struggled in her husband's arms. "They deserve life, or evisceration! Not five years!"

"I am aware, Bella," the smooth cultured voice of the Dark Lord rang in the room. "However, the sooner the Potters are released, the sooner they can be at our mercy."

His placating words were lost on the woman. "They should either be at my mercy now, or with the Dementors for life, there should be none of this dilly-dallying!"

Blue eyes watched as the other wizard whispered futile reassurances to his wife, yet the woman only wriggled herself out of Rodolophus's arms with a well-aimed kick, and continued her pacing.

"And Dumbledore," she seethed, "How dare he assist them!" her blazing eyes wild with their intensity. "I'll murder him; I'll tear the man limb from limb, gauge his eyes out and gorge on his blood!"

"Bella!" Rodolphus commanded, whilst attempting to surreptitiously pull his wand from his robes, but the witch caught the movement and whipped her own wand out.

"Confringo!" the red jet of light was aimed at Rodolphus's head before he could defend himself, and he only just managed ducked in time.

Indignant hazel eyes burned into Rodolphus's face.

The Dark Lord leant further back in his seat, watching the couple with amused eyes.

Rodolphus paled drastically. "I…" clearing his throat, he glanced hurriedly around the room. "I…I was just trying to prevent you from making a fool of yourself in front of Our Lord." His eyes were clearly beseeching the man to save him; the Dark Lord thought that it was one of the more humorous images he had seen.

Bella whirled on her feet, a saccharine sweet smile fixed on her face. "Forgive me my Lord, am I bothering you?"

The smirk on the Dark Lord's face only grew in size, as he waved a hand airily. "Not at all, Bella, I do believe you are expressing our feelings quite thoroughly on this matter," his eyes gleaming, "My brother, your son deserves more justice than a measly five years in Azkaban."

Bella was nodding eagerly at her Lord's words, aiming a glare at her husband. Rodolphus scowled at his wife, his own hazel eyes darkening with anger as he shot forward and grabbed her by the arms.

"Samael is my son too! Must I always remind you of this?" Rodolphus's words were sharp, as he stared steadfastly at his wife. "Of course I want the Potters to rot in Azkaban, more than that I wish to tear their bodies apart, but I can't." His shoulders were shaking with emotions the Dark Lord recognised as anger and resignation. "It's damned politics. Dumbeldore has more power than we do."

"B…But we have Our Lord!" the witch cried, her eyes wide in innocent naiveté as she looked into the crumpled face of her husband. The Dark Lord frowned at the sight, his inner-circle, and parents to his brother should not be upset.

"Unfortunately, what Rodolphus says is true, Bellatrix," he sighed heavily, and propped his head upon his hands. "There is nothing we can do until I have regained my body and, therein, my full powers."

The witch slumped in defeat, a look of pure devastation upon her face. "What can we do then?"

The Dark Lord's lips pursed in irritation. "Presently we can do nothing but plan,"

The Lestranges's nodded painfully, before sharp eyes met his. "Are you aware of a way to return to your body?"

Tilting his head to the side, the Dark Lord gazed at the two before him. "Yes I am, however I need to reacquaint myself with the specifics of the ritual, and for that I need Samael's help." The Dark Lord pushed away from the desk, and stood on his feet. "We shall discuss this in more detail when Samael comes home for Yule, until then, I shall owl him."

"My Lord, do you have any idea how Samael took the news?" the Dark Lord couldn't help the small smile of assurance that slipped onto his face; Bellatrix always was his favourite Death Eater after all.

"Severus flooed me just this morning, he said that Samael seemed to take the news well, however when he went on his patrols he came across Samael slumped on the floor," a gasp of pain escaped the witch. "However, the young Malfoy heir had found him and was comforting him; Severus said they looked most content."

The relieved smile on Bellatrix's face quickly formed into a suggestive smirk, and as he exited the room, he clearly heard the poor witch's husband vehemently declare that Bellatrix should 'stop trying to marry our only son off to Lucius' boy! He isn't even a teenager yet!'

"What is that book you're always reading, Samael?" Draco asked, placing his own book down as he crossed his ankles. "I always see you reading it."

Emerald eyes glanced over the top of the spine. "It is a family heirloom, Dragon." Samael glanced quickly around at his fellow Slytherins, though none were looking at the two second-years on the Chesterfield sofas. "From my brother's side."

Blonde eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before they brightened in realisation. "You don't mean…" Trailing off, he made a pointed look towards the silent portrait of Salazar Slytherin. Samael only smirked in reply.

Breathing out, the Malfoy grinned. "That is splendid! Anything interesting?"

Samael glanced at his friend, stood to his feet, and sat down beside the blonde. Draco only smiled invitingly at Samael. "My brother asked me to read about Raiph Black…who seems to have documented every day of his life."

Draco sniffed, "How tedious." Samael only nodded his agreement, as he turned the page. "Why don't you just take the book to your brother?"

Samael glared at his friend, "Do you not think I would do that if I could?" he questioned, huffing as the blonde only grinned. "No, the journal has a charm on it so that it cannot leave the common room. Salazar Slytherin wished for all his descendants to access their heritage, not just his direct descendants."

Draco grimaced. "Sounds horrendous, Samael. Did he give you a specific thing to look for?" the question asked casually, as he placed an arm over the back of the sofa.

The raven glanced at the hand above his shoulder, before turning back to the page, missing the smirk of achievement on the blonde's face. "He is after a ritual, however any seemingly innocuous detail may prove useful."

Draco's eyebrows rose, and his smirk only grew as Samael relaxed into the cushions, so that his mass of black curls rested almost in the crook of Draco's shoulder. "How tedious, how about your brother's diary….I mean journal? Have you discovered the mystery behind it?"

"Yes, it is merely an imprint of his magic."

Draco grunted in confusion.

"He siphoned off a portion of his magic into the journal. As a result his magic is 'living' and has manifested itself as the most recent memories his school-self had."

"So he's reliving the same memory over and over?" A brisk nod from Samael, and Draco moaned in disgust. "How terrible! The poor man…boy…you know what I mean."

Snorting at the blonde's attitude, Samael replied. "I will return it back to him at Yule, however Quirrel's magical reserves are infinitesimal compared to my brother's, so the journal will have to remain in its current state for a while."

Draco only mourned for the Dark Lord, before an idea struck him. "Does that book tell you where the Chamber is?"

"It's whereabouts have been mentioned, however the castle has been modified since the original construction, so I only have a vague estimation."

Draco frowned in thought. "Have you heard any more from the Basilisk? Perhaps, she could give you directions."

A look of sadness flashed across Samael's face, and Draco absently stroked his thumb down the Lestrange's cheek. "She is in too much pain to be comprehensible, these petrifications are not intentional," he stated firmly. "I shall ask my brother at Yule for further details."

The blonde only nodded at his friend, before the feel of Samael so close to him swept him away in a buzz of contentedness.

Weeks passed by quickly, as snow blanketed the grounds of Hogwarts, and winter encompassed the school. The cold biting wind of December had swept through the castle, causing many of its victims to huddle around the fires of their common rooms and the delightful warmth of Professor Lockhart's classroom.

Dusk had settled early at the early minutes past four in the evening, the last class of the day had just ended, and many students were trailing towards their dorms. However, if one was to walk down an abandoned corridor on the ground floor, they would discover the form of a laughing Samael Lestrange being roughly shoved from a classroom by a pair of skinny, pale arms.

"Oh Merlin!" the raven declared, as he bent double over his cane due to his laughter. "That's the funniest thing I've ever seen, mate!"

"Shut up!" The horrified falsetto sounded from the classroom, and Samael only laughed further.

"Alright, alright," Samael huffed between guffaws, as he began his journey down the corridor. "I'm just gonna go now then, bye!" Samael only snickered at the muffled 'good riddance' following after him.

Samael made short work of his trip to the dungeons, his limp absent as he carried his cane through the abandoned corridors. "Bollocks!" A group of third-year Slytherins were chatting outside the common room, and Samael quickly placed his cane back upon the ground.

"It's Lestrange, quick get the door!" one of the Slytherins whispered, and a look of confusion crossed Samael's face, before it was removed.

"Good evening," the group called to the second-year as he approached them, Samael only glanced at the tallest of the boys holding open the door. Nodding at the group, he spared a quiet 'thank you' before striding into the common room.

Wide emerald eyes darted around the dark, ornate room, before they settled upon the blonde child lounging upon a leather sofa, with a rather worried looking Parkinson beside him. Lengthening his stride, Samael moved towards the Malfoy. A relieved smile stretched the blonde's face, and Samael jerked in surprise at the reaction to his presence. "Parkinson. Malfoy," he murmured stiffly.

The blonde's head tilted to the side in confusion, and his smile faltered. "Samael?" his tone questioning, as his silver gaze searched the Lestrange's face. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Of course I'm alright, Mal… I mean D…Draco," the raven stuttered, before perching himself upon the sofa. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I haven't seen you since Charms ended, and you said that you were going to start on our Potions assignment tonight. Speaking of which, have you seen Zabini? Parkinson has been looking for him" Parkinson leant forward in her seat, her eyes bright and red-rimmed.

"Y-Yes, he said he'd got a meeting with McGon…Professor McGongall about his Transfiguration essay. Something about his wand movement."

Parkinson's face morphed into a frown, and Draco's eyes narrowed upon Samael. "That's strange, considering Transfiguration is Zabini's strongest subject," Draco stated, his gaze bearing into Samael.

"Strange? Yes, I thought so too, I thought maybe he was sneaking off to cop off with some girl," Samael explained, with a rather strained smile. Parkinson flinched at the words, and Draco gave her a minute shake of the head.

Smiling hesitantly at the blonde, she asked. "Did you hear that Boot was attacked this morning? Tracy Davies heard it from Hannah Abbot at lunch, the poor boy."

"That Hufflepuff boy hasn't recovered from that beast though has he? Who would let such a creature attack students?!" Samael eagerly asked, shooting forward on the sofa.

A sculpted eyebrow rose into Draco's hairline. "I wasn't aware that a beast had been attacking the students, I thought it was some terrible prank."

"No, you're wrong! Slytherin's beast is the one attacking students," Samael protested, glaring at the blonde.

"If you say so, Samael, I would hate to disagree with you."

"Slytherin's heir is the only one who can control the beast though, who do you think it is?" Samael impatiently asked, as he began to tap his foot against the floor. Draco glanced at the movement, then at the cane laying abandoned on the floor, and his frown only deepened.

Parkinson stared at the raven, her eyes widening in surprise. "But everyone knows that Slytherin's heir is You-Know-Who!"

"So, I guess it must be a prank since You-Know-Who is dead. On another note, how is your mother faring, Samael?" he asked casually, "Dragon pox is horrendous to have." Parkinson nodded at the blonde's words, a moue of disgust upon her face.

"Oh, she's doing well. The healer said that she should recover within the week," Samael stated with another strained smile.

Draco smiled a predatory smile, his pearly-white canines flashing the Lestrange, as he leant forward to touch Samael's knee. "That's a relief to hear, Samael, considering Aunt Bellatrix is as healthy as ever. Stupefy!" Before Samael could react, he was bound to the sofa with a swift incarcerous.

Wide emerald eyes watched fearfully as the blonde stood to his feet, (Parkinson following with a disdainful sniff), and pointed his finger at the closest first-year. "You! Pertwee! Fetch Professor Snape," his frightening smile stretching further across his face. "We have an imposter."

The atmosphere darkened in the room, as Slytherins of all ages crowded around the fake 'Samael', sneers and baleful glares fixed upon their faces. No-one crossed the Snakes Den without permission, or threatened one of their own unless they were willing to face severe punishments.

As the small first-year returned, with the furious form of Severus Snape storming beside him, the tension increased tenfold. The black-clad man stopped affront of Draco; his tall form towered over the second-year, yet he met the eyes of a person with equal status. Lucius would be proud.

"Speak, Draco," the Potions Master commanded, after a penetrating gaze to the bound imposter.

The blonde inclined his head, straightened his back and lifted his chin. "Samael and Blaise Zabini were due for our potions assignment with myself and Pansy Parkinson, however they did not shown up, which is most irregular. Then this…this person appeared, he was limping with the wrong foot, and was using his damaged ankle as if it was healthy," the blonde took a breath, and hurried on with his evaluation.

"He said that Zabini had a meeting with Professor McGonagall due to difficulty in her class, however Transfiguration is his strongest subject, then he fell into a trap when I asked about his mother's health, plus Samael never uses contractions, yet this thing's speech is full of them."

"I see," Severus whispered, his voice carrying in the silence of the room. "Well done, Mr Malfoy, for your astute observation. However two of our own are missing,"

"Sir, shall I fetch the Headmaster?" a fifth-year asked, her eyes merciless as she glared at the imposter.

"That would be appreciated, Miss Foster, you have my permission to use the flood powder," the girl nodded, and quickly complied to the man's command. "Now, onto the mystery of who our delightful guest is," his voice a dangerous purr, "I had wondered what dunderhead would dare steal my polyjuice. Two flasks are absent, as are two of my Slytherins, now tell me you pathetic flobberworm, where are my Snakes, who is your accomplice, and what is your name?"

"Now Severus," an admonishing voice called from the fireplace, causing said man to grit his teeth and glare as the imposter breathed a relieved sigh. "Stop interrogating the child."

"Albus," Severus greeted stiffly, spinning upon his heel to face the Headmaster. "This child and his accomplice have taken two of my Slytherins and have stolen from my personal stores."

"Polyjuice?" the elder wizard mused, "Well the effects should be wearing off soon, why don't we just wait?"

The dour Potions Master glared at the suggestion, but acquiesced nonetheless. "Fine, however I will be alerting Lords and Ladies Lestrange and Zabini of this disgrace. I am quite certain that they will become most involved if suitable punishment is not administered."

The genial smile on the Headmaster did not falter in the least. "Of course, Severus. Ho! Look I can see some red hair coming through right now!" the white-haired wizard declared.

Instantly whispers of the 'Weasley twins' broke out amongst the students, however as the potion's effects began to fade, the stature of the imposter was much too small to be a fifth-year student. The red hair darkened into auburn, and Samael's face morphed into that of Robert Potter.

Severus' glared witheringly at the Gryffindor, whilst a mocking smile crossed his lips. "Mr Potter, why did I not guess that you would be the one to attempt such an idiotic move? Fifty points from Gryffindor"-

The Potter's face mottled in a mixture of anger and indignation. "That's not fair!"

"Sixty points, Mr Potter," he drawled, "And if you do not inform me where Samael Lestrange and Blaise Zabini are, then you shall be facing expulsion."

The Potter gasped, eyes swimming in denial as he faced his only ally – Dumbledore. "Sir, please, he can't expel me!"

The Headmaster only cast a disappointed look on the Potter. "I am afraid, my dear boy, that you shall be expelled if you refuse to give the whereabouts of your year-mates," nodding sadly at the crestfallen sobs from the child. "You received a disciplinary warning last year by allowing a troll into school, this escapade only strengthens my belief that you are willingly endangering the lives of my students."

"I'm sorry! Sorry! They're just down the corridor! Please don't expel me, Sirius'll kill me!"

The elderly wizard retrieved his wand from his voluminous robes. "Finite Incanteum," the Headmaster released the Gryffindor from the spell, and directed him towards the door. Severus and Draco followed. "Now Mr Potter, lead us to Messeurs Zabini and Lestrange, and your accomplice. Mr Ronald Weasley, I presume?"

A sullen nod of the head met the question. "Yessir."

"And why is he not with you? You took enough potion."

Strangely, the Gryffindor blushed to the roots of his hair, and every single eye was on him. "He…ah…that is…We thought that we had Zabini's hair, but it wasn't his… it was…" the Potter faltered, and Draco grinned roguishly at the boy.

"Ha! Gods, he took one of Parkinson's hairs. Weasley turned himself into a girl!" Draco crowed, before a furious look from Severus stopped him. "Serves him right, though," the blonde grumbled quietly. "How dare he harm Samael!"

"I understand your sentiments, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore stated quietly, the twinkle noticeable in his watery blue eyes. "However, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley shall be punished for their actions, have no fear." The Malfoy sneered at the Headmaster's back, and scowled at the Potter leading the way.

"They're in there with Ron," the Gryffindor declared, jerking his bound hands in the direction of an old Charms classroom. With that, Severus stalked to the front, and rapped loudly three times.

"Open up, Mr Weasley, lest you face expulsion alongside Mr Potter," the Lion gasped in outrage, his face clearly showing the betrayal he felt. "Both yours and Mr Potter's academic career depend upon your decision."

Shuffling could be heard from the room, alongside a nervous incomprehensible muttering.

"Ron! Open up this damned door!" Robert screamed, and immediately faced the angered face of the Potions Master.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your language, Mr Potter. Cease your speaking." Severus turned and addressed the Weasley again. "Mr Weasley, open this door immediately!"

The door cracked open a slither and a shamefaced Ronald Weasley stepped from the room, his face burning from his roots to his neck. "Sorry sirs," he mumbled, but the Potions Master and Malfoy only pushed passed him to find his Slytherins.

Dumbledore placed a wrinkled hand upon his shoulder. "You made the correct decision, my boy," he gently said, yet all Ronald could see was Severus Snape casting diagnostic spells over Lestrange and Zabini, whilst Malfoy gently brushed a lock of the stupefied Lestrange's hair out of his eyes.

"Filius," the affectionate call, had the half-goblin spinning in his precariously high chair to face the warm hazel eyes of Minerva McGonagall. Unbidden, a soft smile spread his features, pushing his snow moustache so close to his nostrils that he sneezed at the sensation.

Warm laughter met this action, and he couldn't help but join her at his expense. "Minerva!" the name was squeaked with happiness, as he floated himself to the ground. "We haven't spoken since I first arrived, how good it is to see you again!"

Yes, I am so glad that you have come out of retirement," she declared, faltering as she took in the angry face of her old friend.

Cheeks puffed red in anger; the half-goblin tightened his shaking fists. "Retirement? The old fool had me sacked because I demanded that he return a stolen object!"

Minerva flung her head back as if smacked, her nostrils flaring in response. "Stolen object? Albus has stolen?" her voice incredulous as she took in the piercing blue eyes of her friend.

"No, no, no," the professor quickly assured, whilst flinging his arms in the air. "But he has a stolen object in his possession, and when I told him to return it to its rightful owners he told me to leave the school."

"Did you not tell the owners where the object is? They could have taken it to the aurors." The bitter laughter which escaped the Charms Professor shocked the witch.

"The aurors never would have taken the case seriously, Minerva! The object belongs to the Goblins, the aurors wouldn't have investigated, so there is nothing the Goblins can do. If they try to take it back by force, then they'll only be arrested. Contrary to what Cuthbert* says, the Goblins do not want another war," here the white-haired professor's face crumpled into dismay. "It just isn't fair!"

Minerva refrained from comparing the charms professor to a toddler having a tantrum."Albus still has it? What is it anyway?"

Filius pursed his lips. "It's the sword of Gryffindor."

"Filius, everyone knows that the Godric's sword was given to him by the Goblins for his aid with the Jewel Crisis," Minerva's tone was soft yet reprimanding. Filius immediately flushed red, his moustache twitching as his mouth gaped with indignation.

The charms professor looked as if he was to protest, but a soft rapping at the door had them both staring comically wide-eyed to the open doorway. "Actually Professor McGonagall, if I may be so bold to say, you are incorrect," Andras Snape murmured respectfully, his amber eyes roving the classroom with interest. "Godric Gryffindor did indeed steal the sword from Ragnuk the first during the Jewel Crisis, and the Goblins have been waiting for the day that it would be returned to them. From what I have read, it was quite close to the Goblins' heart."

Filius' smile looked like it could break his face. "Quite well said, and one of my own Eagles! Thank you, Mr…?" he trailed off, his sparkling blue eyes searching the boy's face. "Sorry, but I haven't gotten around to learning everyone's names yet."

Andras inclined his head at the half-goblin. "Snape. Andras Snape, first-year Ravenclaw, sir."

Filius wheeled backwards in surprise, his grin only widening further. "Severus' boy? I didn't know he had a child, well; it is a pleasure to meet you, Andras Snape. Tell me, how is it you came across this information, most people are under the same mind-set as Professor McGonagall."

Andras allowed a smile to flit across his face. "My dad has a great interest in the rights of Magical beings, my father gave him a book about all the misconceptions of them as a courting gift years ago, and that interest has passed onto me. Of course, Samael also has an interest, and we have had quite a few conversations about the deplorable treatment of magical beings."

"I take it you are the product of your father's male pregnancy potion?" a small nod, and Filius smiled warmly. "Good, Severus has done remarkably well over the years. Is this 'Samael' a Ravenclaw also?"

"No, no. Samael…Samael Lestrange is a Slytherin, in the year above."

"I have second-year Slytherins last period today," Filius mused, brushing his moustache thoughtfully.

"Oh, Mr Lestrange is a remarkably bright child," Minerva stated, "He has always been top of his class, and disregards the inter-house rivalry, why I saw him chatting to Hermione Granger, Terry Boot and Hannah Abbot only the other day!"

"Oh, Terry and Hannah are struggling with their potions, and Samael offered them help; Hermione decided to assist him," came the explanation.

"Mr Snape, shouldn't you be outside on such a nice day?" Minerva asked, after taking a peek outside the tower window.

"Oh, my father wishes to see both you and Professor Flitwick in the Headmaster's office. Robert Potter," the name was spat with the same amount of vitriol the two had only ever heard his father say when speaking of James Potter. "Along with Ronald Weasley attacked Blaise Zabini and Samael, stole polyjuice potion from my father's supply, and snuck into the Slytherin common room. They are awaiting punishment."

Minerva's pursed lips, and flared nostrils were the only sign of her displeasure as she silently stalked from the classroom. Filius called a 'thank you' to the first-year before hurrying after Minerva.

"I cannot believe them!" the woman fumed, "I used to think that the Marauders were a harmless group, but this hatred they hold for Slytherins is ridiculous. First, they all tormented Severus, then Peter turned to You-Know-Who, James let Harry be horrifically abused, Sirius attempted to assault Victoria Effing, and now Robert Potter has attacked two Slytherins. It is not to be borne!"

Filius paused in his step. "What are you saying?"

Minerva stopped her furious stride, to stare into Filius' baby-blues. "I am saying we should follow Samael Lestrange's example and unite the Houses. Study groups, inter-house partners in classes, and so on, this rivalry is ridiculous. These prejudices must end."

"And what of the other prejudices? Against werewolves, vampires, giants, goblins?" Filius questioned.

"We shall see." The half-goblin thought it was the closest to revolutionary thinking he could achieve.

Silver eyes glared at anyone daring to glance in Samael's direction, causing the raven-haired Slytherin to roll his eyes at his friend's behaviour. Ever since Potter and Weasley had stunned him from behind three days ago, Draco had become eccentrically over-protective; snapping and scowling at anyone who wasn't Severus, Andras or Madam Effing.

Samael understood Draco's actions, after all, discovering that your best-friend had been kidnapped in one of the safest places in Magical Britain, would anger most people, (and if Samael was being honest with himself, he quite enjoyed having the blonde's attention solely on himself), however Draco was acting too much like an irritated bulldog for his liking.

"Dragon, stop staring at everyone, they are not going to harm me."

Piercing silver orbs searched the crowd, "I will not let it happen again, Samael," he gritted through his teeth. A pale finger tilted the blonde's chin downwards, so that they could speak on eye-level.

"Listen to me, Dragon. What happened is not your fault – no, do not interrupt. It is not your fault, you do not possess the ability to predict the future, nor can you predict other people's movements. So cease with your actions."

He did not intend for his voice to sound soothing or for his eyes to soften, but somehow both happened. Honestly, what did Draco do to him? "Do you understand what I am saying, Draco?"

Draco hesitated; he couldn't just instantly shake off his guilt or stop his protective nature, but…

"I will try." Samael's lips quirked at the answer, and Draco had to glance away from the strange feelings it evoked inside his stomach. "Do you see Andras anywhere?"

"He mentioned that Ginevra's parents were not happy about her ending the blood feud, and were waiting until she returned for Yule. I can only imagine that he is preparing her for the fight that is about to occur."

Draco frowned at Samael's words. "Whilst I understand her parent's sentiments, surely they must see this as a success? My Father was none too happy about my actions, however once he learned of Ginny's oath to never raise a wand, he acquiesced. Mother was pleased, she couldn't stand our complaints."

Samael's brows furrowed in thought. "I believe that is where the problem lays. Ginevra informed me that her father is always stating that one needs to have a wand prepared when around the Malfoys, he will be angry that he is being forced to pledge peace."

Draco scoffed. "As if we would even deem him worthy enough to bother cursing. Ginny isn't too bad though, I suppose, she has spunk and isn't prejudiced. I suppose this is what Mother was referring to when she spoke of the elder two sons being unlike their parents, they are in rather 'dark' careers after all."

"It is not our place to pry, Dragon," Samael chided softly, Draco only snorted in amusement.

"The hypocrisy in that sentence overwhelms me, Samael."

Samael smirked widely. "Be quiet, Dragon."

"Oh look, there are Granger's parents," the blonde stated, glancing at the neutral bushy-haired witch standing stiffly aside her and scowling parents. "And don't they look like loving parents? Muggles!" he spat the word venomously. "Can they not see the bright flame they have sired?"

"My my, Draco Malfoy defending a Muggleborn," Samael stated with a teasing lilt.

"Prat," Draco declared fondly, "It is like you said, she is too smart and powerful to ignore. I'm not going to sacrifice a worthy ally for my pride. Plus she's brilliant at Charms, and I actually understand the lesson amidst her lecturing." He airily declared, watching with narrowed eyes, as the Gryffindor's father took her roughly by the arm and pulled her through the gateway.

"I see our parents over there, Dragon, and oh," the Lestrange trailed off, staring at the shadowed figure aside the Lestrange and Malfoy parents. "My brother has appeared." Immediately, Draco searched the crowds to stare into dark eyes.

"Have you got his journal, Samael?" the blonde distractedly murmured, the Dark Lord was staring straight at him.

A small smirk appeared on Samael's face. "Yes, I believe it will make a wonderful Yule gift."

Draco nodded slowly, before whipping around to stare in horror at his friend. "That's impertinent, Samael. You can't do that!"

"Oh?" a raised eyebrow matched Samael's nonchalant tone. "I was under the belief that brothers were supposed to rile one another up."

Not when your brother is…is a wizard of your brother's calibre!" the blonde protested.

"Hmm? Never mind that, Dragon," Samael mused, looping his arm in the crook of a distracted Draco's elbow, as he led them towards their parents. "I believe that this Yule will be wonderful, don't you agree?" He flashed his sharp canines to Draco's face of pure unadulterated horror. "A wonderful Yule indeed."

A/N: I would like to send a huge thank you to the wonderful people who sent in lovely words to me. My father is on the mend, thank you, and my little nephew is a little terror.

Also, thank you for those of you who favourite/reviewed my Drarry fic – King of Cowards, it was very much appreciated!

Also, I apologise for the shoddy title and the random song, I couldn't think of anything fitting for the chapter!

Have a great day people!