A/N: Wow! You guys are so awesome! I never imagined this fic would have this kind of response. Honestly, last Wednesday I had my phone off and turned it back on and I couldn't believe it! I couldn't stop smiling, so thank you so so so fucking much for your reviews, follows and favorites! You are all amazing!

Here is year two! I would love to know what you think! And be on the lookout for year three soon.


Hermione was just as excited to begin her second year of Hogwarts as she had been to start her first. She'd spent all summer practicing her drills for Quidditch and she hoped that Marcus would be proud of her when he saw how much she improved. Her parents had even gotten her her own broom.

When she'd gotten on the train, Millie approached her and told her that she could join the rest of the girls in their compartment. She sat with Millie, Tracey and Daphne, who were all prattling about their summers. Hermione could tell they weren't thrilled about her presence, but she was just reading so they didn't really mind. Pansy had left to find Dracoas soon as Hermione had shown up.

They had barely left the station when their compartment door was sliding open, showing the large form of Marcus Flint. Hermione excitedly put down her book, before standing up and wrapping her arms around his waist again. He smelt comforting, like broom polish and the woods.

When she broke away, she thought he might be annoyed, but instead he rewarded her with a crooked smile, ruffling her hair. "Did you get taller this summer?" He asked with an appraising look.

Hermione blushed and nodded. "Just an inch. The doctor, I mean, healer said I shouldn't get too much taller though." It wasn't a surprise. Both her parents had been very average height people, but Hermione had hoped she would have gotten a bit taller. She was one of the shortest girls in their class.

Marcus smirked. "Pipsqueak." He then gave her a stern look. "You better have practiced. I want to see you on the pitch tomorrow after dinner." He crossed his arms, but his tough guy act wasn't working on her.

"Alright, Marcus. See you then." Hermione said brightly, before sitting back in her seat.

Once Marcus had left the compartment, the other three girls rounded on her. Millie looked the most confused. "What's going on with you and my cousin?" She demanded. Few things made Marcus Flint smile, and Millie couldn't believe that Hermione Granger was one of them.

Hermione shrugged her shoulder. "He wants me to play Quidditch. He taught me to fly last year." She answered, not finding it odd at all. She opened her book, and read the rest of the way to Hogwarts.


Marcus watched Hermione fly around from his hoovering broom. He was impressed with her agility and it was clear that she hadn't been neglecting the sport over the summer. He was proud of her, even if she was a pipsqueak. She was obviously a bit small for a chaser, but she was quick and it made up for her size. Hermione could bob and wave, duck and dodge and Merlin, her arm was strong.

Marcus whistled her over and she quickly sped over to his side. "Are you ready for tryouts?" He asked, wondering if she was nervous.

Hermione bit her lip. "I think I am ready." She told him, honestly, before self doubt began to trickle back in. "But I am afraid that the captain won't like me. What if he won't let me onto the team, just because I am a muggleborn?"

Marcus began laughing, a rich deep laugh that had Hermione confused. "Hermione. I am the captain." He revealed.

She was obviously surprised, though she shouldn't be. Who else would they have picked? It seemed silly that she hadn't realized before. Marcus had the drive and the skill to lead Slytherin to victory. "Congratulations Marcus!" She said brightly.

His cheeks were slightly pink, which Hermione thought was sort of cute. Had no one else congratulated him? He cleared his throat. "Thanks." He stared at the ground. "But, I won't play favorites, alright? I just want to put together the best squad, so just get out there and do your best."

Hermione thought that was surprisingly honest of him, but at the same time, it made sense. Marcus wouldn't put anyone on the team who didn't have the skill. It did make her feel a lot better. The Quidditch pitch was one of the few places where her blood status didn't matter, and it was all because Marcus had given her a chance.

She sometimes wondered why he was so nice to her. They couldn't be more different. But, Hermione wouldn't question it. Her life had gotten better since she befriended Marcus Flint. Sometimes she worried about what would happen when he graduated, but she tried not to focus on it. Maybe she'd be better friends with the other Slytherin girls by then. She could dream.

"Alright, I'll do my best. I don't want to let you down, Marcus." She promised. She would prove that she was worth his time.

"I know you will, pipsqueak." He said with a smile.


The morning of Quidditch tryouts had dawned brightly. The air was cool and crisp, perfect for flying. There were more than thirty people trying out that day and Hermione was the only second year girl. She was nervous, but she was confident in her abilities.

Most of the others trying out for chaser were boys, with lots of experience, but she was able to hold her own, and scored quite a few times on the keeper, even Miles Bletchley, who had the starting spot next year. She knew that it quite annoyed him to be scored on by such a little girl.

She wasn't blind to the fact that everyone was whispering about her, their eyes scanning her movements for any mistake that could be held against her. Draco Malfoy sneered at her when she touched down after her trial, unable to believe that the girl from flying lessons had transformed into such a Quidditch player.

In the end, while she was good, she wasn't quite good enough for the first squad. Yet. Marcus had told her, with a hand on her shoulder. But, she was one of the five people that had made the reserve squad. She was so pleased that she'd been selected out of the dozens of people that had tried out, almost nothing could bring her down.

Except the fact that Draco Malfoy had somehow made seeker. She trusted Marcus to make the right decisions, but she couldn't believe that he'd beaten out Terence Higgs, and it didn't seem that older boy could believe it either.

"Malfoy, stay after." Marcus said, calling the first team meeting to a close, dismissing everyone else. Once everyone was gone, Marcus stared down the cocky Malfoy heir. He hadn't wanted to make something clear to the little boy, knowing that he had to make something clear. "The only reason you are on the first squad is because of the promise your father made me."

"Don't worry, he'll get you the brooms. Though I don't know that everyone needs one." Malfoy assured him, but Marcus wanted to make sure things were clear.

"Listen, Malfoy. Either everyone on the team - reserve players included - gets a broom or we don't want any." Marcus demanded. "I want the best squad and Higgs is better prepared. The only thing that edges you ahead is the brooms." Honestly, it would be hard to pass up brand new Nimbus 2001s.

"Why do you care, anyway?" Malfoy questioned. "She's just a mudblood."

"Because she's got a damn good arm." Marcus said, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Now, everyone gets one, or you aren't making first squad."

"Alright, fine. Everyone gets a broom." Malfoy scowled, but Marcus knew that boy wanted to play enough to make good. He was practically obsessed with betting Potter, but then again, so was Marcus.


Hearing that the Chamber of Secrets was open, and in such a sinister way, with writing on the wall in blood, turned even Marcus's stomach. He hadn't heard of the Chamber of Secrets before, but Hermione had filled him in, whispering what she knew about it from that giant book she was always lugging around.

Malfoy liked to posture, acted like he knew all about the Chamber. Apparently it had been opened previously and a girl died, a muggleborn student. Malfoy even bragged in front of Crabbe and Goyle, the oafs, that he hoped Hermione died this time.

That had had Marcus snarling and cracking his knuckles. Malfoy just needed to be shoved around a bit before he clammed up with his desires to have one less muggleborn in Slytherin house.

When the first student was petrified, it had sunk fear in his belly. He couldn't deny that he was worried about the little pipsqueak. She was so small and she was always walking back from the library late at night, right before curfew. That's when people were ending up petrified by some kind of mysterious monster.

He tracked Hermione down in the library - of course - and pulled out the seat across from her. "You have to stop staying here so late, Hermione. It's not safe for you." He pleaded.

But, Hermione was stubborn. "Don't be ridiculous, Marcus. I won't be cowed by some pureblood's idea of a joke." She said insistently, putting her quill down with a flourish. "Malfoy doesn't frighten me."

"What ever is petrifying the other muggleborns isn't a joke." He knew that she was brave, but he didn't want anything to happen to her. She'd wormed her way into his life and he cared about her.

"I can't go through school being afraid, Marcus." Hermione sighed. She looked tired. It was touching that he cared about her. It seemed like he was the only one at this school.

Marcus ran his fingers through his short hair, annoyed. He knew that she went through more than she should, and despite what he could do for her in his own house, he knew that the other students were not kind to her. If she was even a little weak, they would pounce. "Promise me that you will just...keep your head down, alright? Be careful."

Hermione put her tiny hand on top of his. "I promise Marcus."


It had taken a lot of cajoling from Millie, and the promise that she would review the girl's charms essay for the rest of term, but Hermione finally got the girl to give up her cousin's birthday. October 23th. Hermione smiled to herself. Really, she was lucky she found out in time to sort him a gift.

Even though turning eighteen wasn't as big of a deal in the wizard game world as it was in the muggle world (seventeen years old was when they came of age in the wizarding world) Hermione still wanted to give her friend something special, something he would know she cared about him.

She had been saving up her allowance over the summer and finally she had enough to get what she wanted for him. She'd ordered it via owl post and wrapped the package lovingly, waiting until after dinner to give it to him.

He'd showed up in the library like she'd asked and if he had any idea on why she'd asked him there, he didn't make it known. She watched as he looked confused when she slid the rectangular package across the table they sat at. "Happy Birthday." She said sweetly.

His eyebrows furrowed together while his fingers caressed the bright green paper that was wrapped around it. "How did you know it was my birthday?" He asked, still not opening his gift.

"Millie told me, now go on open it!" She felt more excited about this than he seemed. Eventually, though he ripped through the paper and opened the box. He was hesitant when he saw what was inside. "I know that a wizard's parents typically give their sons watches for their seventeenth birthday, but I thought you'd like something a little extra."

He let his fingers caress the gleaming silver pocket watch chain, shocked that Hermione would go to the effort to give him such a gift. It was simple, but obviously finely wrought, clearly it would have cost a lot of money. He couldn't remember a time that his friends gave him a present. Typically, in the boys' dorms, when it was your birthday you were expected to bring the firewhiskey.

His throat felt a bit tight that Hermione would do something so...nice for him. Merlin, he didn't even know when her birthday was. Should he get her something as well? The was in completely uncharted territory.

Seeing her worried little face, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip, he gave her a genuine smile. "Thank you." He couldn't say anything else, because he was afraid whatever came out of his mouth would be stupid or offensive.

She smiled brightly, glad to know that her gift was well received. Hermione hadn't thought that it might be a bit of an overstep, but she'd just wanted to do something nice.

"When is your birthday?" He asked her, feeling like a terrible person.

"September nineteenth." Hermione said brightly, a blush painted on her cheeks. "But you don't need to worry about it Marcus. I don't expect you to reciprocate."

He nodded, but filed away the date for a later time. He would not forget her birthday the next year.


Quidditch games ended up being so much more intense when you sat on the bench rather than in the stands. Hermione watched with a clinical eye as the Slytherins went against their biggest rival, the Gryffindors.

Mostly, she watched the chasers, wanting to see how their plays worked out and what was successful and what wasn't. Wood was a good keeper, but he still had his weaknesses. He was much stronger on the left than on the right, but Hermione noticed that Marcus had picked up on this, aiming most of his shots towards the right ring.

It was rather exciting to watch them fly in formation. From her seat on the bench, nestled between Higgs and Pucey, she could see Marcus barking out orders not only to the other chasers, but to the beaters as well.

If there was one thing about Quidditch that she hated, it was the bludgers. She found the idea of hitting a heavy ball as hard as possible, with the intention to harm, at your opponent to be abhorrent. She watched as Montague took a hard hit to the leg from one of the Weasley twins, and let out a gasp of concern.

The two boys she was sitting up just laughed at her. "He'll be alright." Higgs said. "It's nothing that Madame Pomfrey can't fix up when the game is over." She and Terence had formed an odd little...understanding. An understanding that they both hated Draco Malfoy and saw their new Nimbus 2001 brooms as bribery.

Hermione had tried to discuss the blatant pay out from Lucius Malfoy with Marcus, but he'd refused to speak about it with her, to her dismay. It was one of the few times when they hadn't gotten along. Really, it shouldn't be surprising to her that Marcus was willing to go to such lengths to win, but it didn't mean Hermione was going to be happy about it.

Suddenly, it was clear that Harry Potter had spotted the snitch, and well before Draco noticed that he was on the trail, he was diving for it. Malfoy, realizing that Potter was in pursuit of the snitch, followed after him. Hermione was a bit impressed that he'd nearly caught up, but in the end, Potter was triumphant.

"Fuck." Terence said, under his breath, but loud enough that she could hear it.

She gave him a sad smile before trying to reassure him. "I'm sure you would have caught it Terence. Malfoy was completely distracted."

Terence nodded, happy for the support. "Say, do you think you could talk to Flint about it for me? Malfoy is destroying our chances of winning the cup."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I can try, but I don't know what good it would do."

Higgs gave her a wide grin, as though she were being painfully oblivious. "Come on, you know that Flint listens to you, for some reason. Pipsqueak." He smirked, using the awful nickname that Marcus had bestowed on her.

Before she could answer, they were called to return to the locker room, where Marcus would undoubtedly rip into them for the awful way they played.


Hermione had been petrified.

She had been walking alone, back from the fucking library and she'd been fucking petrified.

Marcus had found out from Professor Snape, who asked him to stay after potions, suggesting that he should know that one of his Quidditch players would be out of commission until an antidote could be brewed. He skipped the rest of his classes for the day to go to the infirmary.

Madame Pomfrey knew that he was a frequent visitor when he himself was injured, but she couldn't hide the look of surprise when he sat down heavily next to her bed. She'd been holding a mirror, and her face was distorted, horrified at what she'd seen in the reflection.

He was mad. Raging mad. He'd told her. He'd expressly told her not to walk back from the library by herself so late at night. But in the end, he couldn't stay mad at the little pipsqueak. Learning was so ingrained in her that he couldn't be surprised that she wouldn't change her habits.

As the weeks went on, he was mad that Hermione had been endangered in this way. Why should she be targeted this way, just because of who her parents were? Why should such a bright, friendly witch be reduced to blood status? Her blood status didn't convey her thoughtfulness, her toothy smile, her energy, her intelligence, her skill as a chaser.

In a dramatic fit, he'd even punched the stone wall of the infirmary one evening after looking over her because he felt so helpless. It was something that he couldn't fix for her. Madame Pomfrey had chided him, healing the broken bones in his fist and whispering promises that Hermione would be okay, that Sprout had mandrakes and Snape was doing all the brewing. That she was in good hands.

He tried to believe, but found that it was difficult. She just looked so small and frightened nestled amongst the crisp white sheets of the infirmary.

And Merlin help who ever this heir of Slytherin was. If Marcus found out who had been opening the Chamber of Secrets, he would beat them to a pulp, the muggle way.


The end of term came quicker than he thought it would and Marcus was worried he wouldn't be able to see Hermione before he had to go home on the Hogwarts Express. That was, until Dumbledore announced that the culprit had been caught and that those who had been petrified had been revived.

The doors opened and he couldn't help but watch as they streamed to their tables one by one. A Hufflepuff boy, a Gryffindor boy, a Ravenclaw girl. And finally. Hermione. He watched as she searched the table, before finally noticing him. She walked - quickly - to where he was seated. "Marcus." She greeted him brightly.

"Hermione." He responded, before making Montague shove over so that she could sit beside him. People would talk about it, but at the moment he didn't care. He hadn't realized just how much he would miss Hermione until she was gone from his world for the past few weeks. "Glad to see you are feeling better."

She opened and closed her mouth, as if trying to decide what to say. "Aren't you going to say, I told you so?" She asked him, staring firmly at the full plate in front of her.

"At first, I was upset at you." Marcus told her, quietly. "But, after a day, I realized that it wasn't your fault. I am just glad to have you back." He told her honestly. Trying to lighten the mood a bit, he nudged her side. "Though, you could have just told me if you wanted to get out of winter conditioning so badly. You didn't have to get yourself petrified to get out of drills."

Hermione laughed at that. "Well, what happened with the rest of the season?" She was intensely curious to know how the rest of the season had gone. Surely, they would have beaten both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

Marcus grimaced. "Actually, they canceled the rest of the season. Because of the attacks." He revealed. It had been one of the reasons he was so angry. He had nothing else to focus his negative energy on, nothing to burn off the rage. Of course, he still flew a lot, but it wasn't exactly the same.

Hermione, ever the optimist, just shrugged. "Well, we will just have to show them what we are made of next season."