firecracker ???

2-10

They slipped away to the dungeons.

Disguised as Crabbe and Goyle, Harry and Ron made it to the Slytherin common room.

The password worked. The door opened.

Inside, everything was too warm, too familiar. Harry blinked at the decorations, the soft lamplight, the scent of mint and cinnamon.

Draco spotted them from across the room.

"Took you long enough," he said, rising from the chessboard. "Where've you been?"

Harry fumbled for an answer.

"Bathroom," Ron blurted.

Draco frowned. "Together?"

Harry elbowed him. "Big meal."

Draco squinted. "You look weird."

Blaise looked over. "Did you two get taller?"

Pansy arched a brow. "And quieter. That's never a good sign."

Draco was already walking toward them.

"You've got chocolate on your collar," he muttered. "Come on."

He herded them back into the room. Blaise passed a butterbeer over. Theo made space on the floor.

They sat.

Harry had expected coldness, cruelty, maybe even scheming. But what he saw surprised him.

Draco nudged Elestara's knee with his own. She rolled her eyes but leaned toward him.

"You cheated," she muttered under her breath.

"You always say that when I win," Draco replied, smug.

"You never win. Blaise distracted me."

"Blaise distracted you? Or are you just losing your edge, dearest sister?"

She threw a pillow at his head. He dodged with a grin, caught it, and tossed it back gently.

"You're insufferable," she told him.

"You're dramatic," he shot back.

"Your face is dramatic."

"You memorise Latin insults for fun."

"Only because you're too dim to understand the English ones."

Despite the words, it was all light. Familiar. Their insults had the cadence of affection, well-worn and practiced. Draco bumped her shoulder. Elestara bumped him harder.

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron, who looked equally thrown.

"They... actually like each other?" Ron muttered.

Harry didn't answer.

Because the truth was—he hadn't expected it. Not this version of them. Not soft laughter and casual teasing. Not the way Draco refilled her butterbeer without asking or how he'd pull up Elestara's blanket when he thought she'd fallen asleep.

He'd thought he knew them and it was plain as day he was wrong.

As the night went on, music crackled from an old gramophone. The group played games and chatted about inside jokes and childhood stories. Harry and Ron exchanged glances, trying to act casual. They had limited time before the Polyjuice wore off. Now that they were inside, they had to get Draco talking.

Harry, still disguised as Goyle, leaned slightly closer to Draco. "So—er—do you know who's behind it? The attacks?"

Draco raised a brow. "Why would I know that?"

Ron-as-Crabbe gave a lazy shrug. "You're always saying you do."

"I think I know," Draco said. "But that doesn't mean I have proof. Father says the Chamber's real. Says it hasn't been opened in centuries. Until now."

Harry's heart pounded. "So it's not you?"

Draco scoffed. "Hardly. If it were me, do you think I'd be subtle about it? Please. Whoever's doing it wants to get rid of the Mudbloods quietly."

Pansy wrinkled her nose. "It's probably someone really old. Probably not even a student."

"Unless it's Potter," Blaise said lazily, twirling a candy cane. "He does have a flair for dramatics."

Elestara didn't speak. She glanced up once, briefly, and caught Harry's eyes. Or rather, Goyle's.

She looked away.

Draco flopped back against the pillows. "I just want them to catch whoever it is so we can stop getting lectures about it. Honestly, it's exhausting."

Pansy leaned forward. "And Potter didn't help, speaking to that snake like it was his pet."

Harry shifted. "He didn't mean it."

Draco eyed him. "You sound different."

Before either of them could push further, a clock chimed.

The Polyjuice was running out.

Harry and Ron stood abruptly.

"Bathroom again," Ron said, panicked.

Draco groaned. "Honestly, what did you eat?"

They hurried out before anyone could stop them.

Elestara watched them leave with narrowed eyes, something sharp flickering behind the veil of casual disinterest. As the common room quieted again, she tilted her head slightly toward Draco.

"They were acting weird," she said simply.

Draco didn't look up from his butterbeer. "They're always weird."

"No," she said, lips pursing. "That wasn't Crabbe. Or Goyle."

Draco finally glanced at her. "You think it was—?"

She nodded once. "Polyjuice."

Draco made a low sound in his throat. "Idiots. What could they possibly get from this?"

She shrugged, curling her fingers into the blanket draped across her lap. "Potter's chasing shadows. That much is obvious. But he's getting bolder. Riskier."

Draco leaned closer, voice low. "You think he's dangerous?"

Elestara didn't answer immediately. Then: "I think he wants something. And I think we're in the way."

He looked at her. "Well, then. Let him try."

They sat in silence for a moment. The fire crackled behind them, warm and gold.

Finally, Draco sighed. "Next time they try something like that, I'm hexing them."

Elestara's lip curled. "If you don't trip over your ego first."

He grinned. "I'll have you know my ego is perfectly balanced on my natural charm."

She rolled her eyes. "It's balanced on your broomstick and about as steady as your chess record."

"Insulting my chess skills on Christmas? You are cruel."

"I'm realistic."

But the corner of her mouth twitched.

And that, Draco decided, was enough.