Draco received multiple detentions for punching Zabini. Further, Professor Snape took 30 points from Gryffindor when he stalked out to the Quidditch pitch, robes billowing behind him, having been alerted to the conflict by one of Zabini's thuggish henchmen.

"But Professor," Oliver Wood began. Alicia spoke over them, "He called her a – "

Professor Snape interrupted them both. "I am uninterested in whatever language Mr. Zabini might have used. Hogwarts rules do not have a provision for 'fighting words', Miss Johnson. Those rules, however, do frown on fisticuffs." He eyed Draco. "I'm sure your parents would be most disappointed in you, Mr. Malfoy."

Alicia began to mutter something about her name but stopped when Oliver Wood nudged her with his elbow.

If Professor Snape expected Draco to fold under the obvious threat to inform the boy's parents of his misdeeds, however, he was doomed to be disappointed. "I doubt it," Draco muttered. "I think my mum might actually take me out for ice cream if – when – she hears."

"I wonder what Harry'll do when I tell him about what you said," Draco nearly hissed. "Because I don't think he'll be thrilled either."

"Surely you aren't threatening Mr. Zabini with more violence," Professor Snape asked, his voice as smooth as custard, heavy and sweet and nearly gelatinous with anticipated pleasure. "I'd so hate to have to give Mr. Potter detention as well."

"I bet," Draco muttered. "I just bet."

"What was that, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Snape asked. "Did I hear you say you enjoyed cleaning with Mr. Filch so much you yearned for yet more detentions?"

"Nothing, sir," Draco said, his voice much more polite.

"Draco," Hermione tugged on his arm as they walked away from the pitch and the Slytherin Quidditch team. "You're going to lose us every point ever." Her voice, however, sounded far less upset than he would have expected after he lost them 30 points. "You can't just go hitting everyone who calls me a…a…"

"You wanna bet?" Draco said, scowling as he glanced back over his shoulder at Zabini who was playing up his injury for a fawning Tracey Davis. "Next time I'll be smart enough to hex him so there's no mark or proof though."

"Draco," she said again as if to scold him but the way she slipped her hand into his and smiled at him would have warmed hearts far colder than his. He grinned down at her and missed much of Oliver Wood's rant about the way Professsor Snape played favorites for Slytherin and how were they supposed to practice and began paying attention again when the boy snapped, "You better catch that snitch before that little shite, Zabini, Malfoy!"

"Oh, he will," Alicia said. "He's got motivation now." She tossed a glare back over her shoulder. "We all do. What a horrid little brat." She reached over and ruffled Draco's hair and he gave her an aggrieved look at her smirk. "I'm glad you're one of us, Malfoy, instead of with those arseholes."

"They aren't all like that," Hermione said.

Angelina snorted. "Enough of them are," she said. "Merlin-be-damned little blood purists and racists. If they weren't like that they wouldn't have been Sorted into that House." She gave Hermione a serious look. "Trust me, kid, stay away from the snakes."

Hermione gave Draco an uneasy glance and he squeezed her hand.

. . . . . . . . . .

Hermione slipped into the library nook where she always met Theo, a copy of A Swiftly Tilting Planet in one hand and her school bag clutched in the other. He looked up with his usual shy smile on his face, a smile that faded when he saw the set of her jaw.

"What happened," he asked.

"Blaise Zabini called me a Mudblood," she said. Theo flinched and flinched again when she added, "Professor Snape gave Draco detention because he hit him."

Theo ducked his head. "He doesn't know you," he hedged. "It's… it's just the way our families talk, Hermione. He doesn't – "

"Don't tell me he doesn't mean anything by it," she said. She was almost crying and Theo looked up in shock at the way her words came out choked and angry. "A…Angelina said you're all like that. All of you!" The near accusation hung in the air between them. "She's right, isn't she? You're ashamed to be seen with me, aren't you? It's okay to trade books as long as no one knows but – "

Theo ducked his head again and stared down at the floor. "I have to live with him, Hermione," he muttered at last. "In a small room. Do you want me to – "

"I want you to admit you know me," she said, thrusting the book into his hand. "If you don't want to be my friend in public then we aren't really friends."

Theo held onto the book and stared at her with stricken eyes.

"Give that back when you're willing to give it to me in front of everyone," she said. "Otherwise you can keep it. A parting gift from me." She turned and stalked out of the library, leaving the dark haired boy behind her, his fingers curled around the slim text she'd handed him and his throat bobbing as he swallowed back his feelings.

. . . . . . . . . .

"He called her what?" Harry demanded.

Draco glared at his friend. "Don't make me say it again," he said.

"I'm going to kill him," Harry muttered. "Kill him dead."

Neville looked up from where he was working on his essay and smiled.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"How's the new wand working out?" Hermione asked Neville.

He grinned at her and flicked his new wand back and forth a few times. "It's great," he said. "It's a bit tricky, you know? I got so used to having nothing work no matter how much magic I tried to push at it than now I feel like I'm putting too much into things or something. Like I can't control it because I've got too much power, not too little."

Hermione squinted at him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I can't explain it, exactly," he said, sounding frustrated. "But I overdo it a lot and I must be getting really tired because I keep kind of losing track of time. I mean, suddenly it's afternoon and I don't know where the day went."

"That's weird," Hermione said. "I guess you'll adjust?" She sounded as if that were the only possible logical answer and Neville looked relieved.

"You have to be right," he said. "I mean, most people don't get new wands in the middle of school. Sometimes as an adult if they break them but by then they're fully trained wizards so the transition is probably easier."

Hermione leaned over and kissed him on the temple. "I'm glad your gran let you get a new wand," she said. "When you told me you'd written to her to ask her to take you shopping I was afraid she'd say no. You'll figure it out. Just give it time." She pulled her own homework out of her bag. "Did you hear about the roosters?" she asked.

"No?" Neville looked at her with a look of vague interest at best.

"I guess some animal got into the henhouse and killed all of them," she said.

"Only the roosters?" Neville asked as he took out a knife and began sharpening his quill in preparation for his own essay. New wands were great and certainly made the practical work easier but he still had to write the endless essays teachers seemed to love. "No chickens? That is weird."

"I heard a professor say they figured the chickens all hid in the henhouse but the roosters got aggressive with whatever got into their enclosure."

"That makes sense," Neville agreed. "At least we'll still have eggs with breakfast if whatever it was left the hens alone."

Hermione grinned at him. "Silver linings," she agreed. "Do you have any thoughts on this ridiculous essay topic?"

"Write big?" Neville suggested and she laughed.

. . . . . . . . .

Harry listened to the snake hissing in the walls and wondered if he should tell anyone. Sirius had told him being able to speak and understand Parseltongue didn't make him evil but he wasn't sure anyone else would believe that. He glanced over at Draco and opened his mouth to ask Draco's opinion than closed it again. He'd heard it more and more frequently lately and every time he felt more and more nervous but, really, what could a snake do to people. It was probably just hunting rats or something. That would explain why it kept talking about blood and being hungry.

Rats.

They were the only thing a snake was dangerous to. And he didn't want people to think he was a freak. Harry glanced nervously at Draco one more time before turning his mind away from snakes and the risk of being an outcast to the stupid transfiguration essay he still hadn't written.

. . . . . . . . . .

The shriek filled the hallway and brought people running. When they reached the sound of the noise they found Hermione standing, shaking and holding onto Draco as she pointed at a message that had been painted on the wall with red paint that still dripped to the floor, leaving a blood puddle on the stones. Harry stood next to them, his mouth agape though no sound came out.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE

A cat was hung near the message, stiff and unbending, and the increasing crowd milled about, unsure what to do until the sound brought Argus Filch, the much hated castle caretaker to the scene. His predictable outrage at the mess on the wall and floor had only begun to burble out of him when he saw the cat and froze, as rigid as the animal.

"What have you monsters done to my cat," he demanded, spinning around to face the students. "Which of you horrid little beasts did this?" He spun back to the cat and took her down with a gentleness that surprised all the onlookers, as did the way he cradled the creature in his arms. "You've killed her." He looked up, swinging his head around. "I'll murder whichever of you little horrors did this," he said.

Headmaster Dumbledore, who did seem to manage to appear wherever there was an incident if it suited him to do so, glided his way into the mass of students who parted before him and let him to the front of the crowd where he surveyed the message on the wall, the cat in Filch's arms, and the shaking trio of 12-year-olds who'd arrived at the scene first. Other teachers, including both McGonagall and Lockhart, followed him.

"Goodness," Dumbledore said, peering at the message, and then at the cat, and then back at the message. "What has happened here?"

"My cat is dead," Filch said in fury, "and one of these monsters did it." He pointed at Hermione, Draco, and Harry.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," McGonagall said just as Lockhart poked at the cat and said, "Clearly she was killed using a Transmogrifian Torture, seen it many times, pity I wasn't there, could have saved the poor creature." The man looked up at Harry and said, "I must say, lad, that's a bit more than I'd expect from a second-year-student; your adventure with he-who-must – "

"Yes, quite," McGonagall said, cutting him off. "Albus, what do you think this is."

Professor Dumbledore peered over his spectacles at the cat and said, "Petrification, dear Argus. She's not dead."

"He did it," Filch shrieked again, pointing, though given how his finger wavered it was hard to tell whether he meant Harry or Draco.

"Don't be ridiculous," McGonagall said right as Lockhart said, "Petrification, exactly what I would have said."

"This is advanced Dark magic," Dumbledore said. "No student did this." He glanced at the very relieved looking trio for a moment and then back at Filch. Let us go into a nearby office – "

"Mine is closest," Lockhart said importantly. "You are more than welcome to use mine."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said, his voice grave though his eyes twinkled perhaps a bit more than was seemly given the circumstances. "Your office would be most appreciated, Gilderoy. We shall examine this unfortunate cat and discuss what to do about both her and this." He tipped his head toward the wall.

"Give the little monsters detention," Filch muttered. "Have them scrub it in chains."

"I think that will be unnecessary," Dumbledore said. He waved his wand at the wall and murmured something under his breath and the paint all disappeared, as did several dozen years of grime. "I was referring more to the issue at hand than the mess, Argus."

The caretaker looked disappointed he wouldn't be able to stand over weeping students as they scrubbed but he followed the Headmaster and professors to Gilderoy Lockhart's office, his cat still cradled in his arms. There was a lull as the students looked at one another and tried to think of what to do next. With the graffiti and cat gone there seemed no reason to stay and yet no one was quite sure whether it was acceptable to just leave.

"You'll be next, Mudblood." The silence was broken by Zabini shoving his way to the front of the crowd. He smirked at Hermione. "Get ready to die, loser," he said. "The Heir of Slytherin isn't going to like that your kind is here."

Theodore Nott pushed past Zabini and walked over to where Hermione stood with Draco and Harry. He had her book in his hand. "Thank for loaning me this, Hermione," he said. "I really enjoyed it." He stood at her side and stared at Zabini, his gaze unblinking.

. . . . . . . . . .

A/N - I update about once per week.