Here on popular demand; chapter two. The trouble with writing fanfiction is that you get new ideas halfway through and want to start writing them immediately. That happened while I was writing Heart of the Wolf, it happened during Unbroken Curses, and it's happened again. However, I will finish Unbroken Curses, with sporadic updates on Silent Snake. When I'm done with UC, I'll concentrate on SS with sporadic updates on the next fic that pops into my mind.

Hopefully you'll understand that I can't update both fics equally fast. I will, however, try to update as fast as I can. I can't promise I will, but I'll try. Oh, and someone asked where I'd gotten the Slytherin password in the last chapter; I got it from Hogwarts motto, it's the first two words. Not very complicated, or original for that matter, but I like it.

******'

The bowl of porridge looked like a very inviting pillow. In fact, everything that didn't move looked like an inviting pillow right now. Correction; everything that was soft enough not to knock her out looked like a good pillow. Hermione had never been so tired in her life. Staying up to the wee hours of the morning, four of those hours spent with a sarcastic Slytherin, was definitely not a good idea.

She'd gotten back to the Gryffindor Tower at half past four in the morning, and had gone to bed immediately, but hadn't fallen asleep until sometime after five, and since she got up at a quarter to six at school days, that meant that she had had forty minutes of sleep the entire night. She'd been snapping at everyone to leave her alone since she got up, and was currently trying very hard not to fall face-first into her porridge bowl at breakfast.

The thing that annoyed her most wasn't the fact that she'd been stuck for four hours in the Room of Requirement, or even that she had to pinch herself regularly just to stay awake. It was Blaise Zabini who bothered her the most; she'd seen him when she came into the Great Hall, and he'd been looking annoyingly awake and bright, in the possible way a Slytherin could be classified under the term bright-and-happy.

After that, she'd growled at her fellow Gryffindors and sat down to start dreading the first lesson; Double Potions with the Slytherins, which didn't do anything to lighten her mood. She'd be in the same room as Blaise-bloody- Zabini, and on top of that, she'd be in Snape's class, which was definitely not the class you wanted to fall asleep in, whether by accident or not.

Harry and Ron helped keep her awake by occasionally flinging questions at her, and she was grateful for their efforts, but all she wanted right now was to go back to sleep. She broke out of her contemplations of using the porridge as a pillow when Harry tapped her on the shoulder.

"What?" She grumbled.

"Potions, Hermione, it starts soon." He reminded her.

She nodded and retrieved her book-bag, following her two best friends out of the Great Hall and down the stairs to the dungeons. The cool air down there worked to wake her up, but only a minute or so had passed when she felt the drowsiness creep over her again.

They silently trooped into the Potions classroom and sat down in their usual seats, Hermione in the middle, Harry to the left and Ron to the right. Soon, other Gryffindors joined them; Slytherins were always fashionably late. Hermione kept her eyes at the textbook in front of her, ignoring everyone. After a while, the Slytherins, both Head and students, came in, and the lesson began.

*****'

They had been asked to write essays till today's lesson, and Draco Malfoy was sent around to gather them up and bring them to Snape. He snatched Hermione's parchment roll with a sneer, which she answered with a scowl of her own, and he then proceeded to ´accidentally´ drop her roll on the floor, and moved on.

Blaise glanced at her across the desks, and leaned down and picked the parchment up. He raised an eyebrow at her when he sat up again, and she scowled at him. He nodded, shot her a small smirk, which was probably the Slytherin version of a smile, and looked over at Malfoy.

"Draco!" He called.

Malfoy turned around, and raised an eyebrow.

"You dropped this." Blaise said, tossing him the essay across the classroom.

Malfoy scowled, but had no option than to catch it and hand it in; he couldn't very well drop it again when the whole class was watching. This was exactly what Blaise had planned, but he knew better than to show it. And he knew better than to show Draco Malfoy that he knew it was Hermione Granger's essay.

When Draco returned to sit down next to him, he scowled again, and leaned across the desks.

"That was Granger's essay, Blaise." The blond boy growled.

Blaise put on an expression of surprise, which was fake through and through, and feigned irritation.

"Damn. Was it? I thought it was Millicent's." He said, trying to sound not too interested, nor too indifferent.

Hiding things from fellow Slytherins was an activity even the House's first- years had to learn quickly, and over the years, he'd become one of the best at it. He could deceive even Snape if he tired hard enough, and that's saying something. Outsmarting Seventh-years was easy by comparison; Snape had a nasty habit of knowing what you were thinking before you thought it.

Since they weren't actually brewing a potion today, he went back to reading through his textbook, and noting down the more significant things on a parchment scroll. A busy silence descended over the room, since no one, not even Slytherins, would speak unless spoken to in the Potions classroom. The only sounds were the rasp of quills, the crackling of parchment and the soft breathing of the dungeons occupants. It was, all in all, an unusually peaceful lesson.

******'

It was lunch time, and Hermione had escaped to the library as soon as she could. She wanted to get away from Harry and Ron, who were questioning her about why she'd been out so late last night, and besides, she needed to study for her N.E.W.T's. She was reading a book on complicated healing potions, curled up in a chair at the very back of the library, still struggling to keep her eyes open.

Someone, an annoyingly happy someone, sat down in the chair across from her. She looked up and growled ad Blaise, who seemed astonishingly cheerful for someone who had only gotten about an hour of sleep. He was reading a thin green volume with golden letters across the cover, spelling out ´Hélas, j´ai Transfiguré mes Pieds´, and the book was written by one Malecrit.

"Had lunch yet?" He asked brightly.

"No; I didn't want to fall asleep in the damn food." She snapped, sounding extremely tired, even to her own ears.

"Now that would have been something worth watching." Blaise smirked.

"Shut up you." She snarled, "Thanks for helping with the essay." She switched subjects.

"Eh? Oh, that. It's alright." He shrugged.

She nodded and went back to trying to read and sleep at the same time. She was succeeding, for the moment at least, in actually seeing the words on the page, while at the same time catching up a little on the sleep she'd been missing out on last night.

They sat in silence, reading quietly, more or less ignoring each others presence completely. Neither noticed that lunch was long since over, but since Hermione had a free hour afterwards, it didn't really matter. However, about half an hour after lunch ended, they were interrupted. By Draco Malfoy, who came sweeping into the library as if he owned it.

"Blaise!" He snapped, "You're half an hour late for the Arithmancy lesson."

Blaise looked up, and raised an eyebrow. He put the book on the table and stood up, facing him.

"I got caught up in my book." He shrugged.

Draco however, wasn't listening. He had spotted Hermione, and put on his best sneer.

"What're you doing here, Mudblood? Trying to find a way to cheat on your tests? It would be like you; no one can get those good grades without cheating, or something else. Tell me, Mudblood, did you ever offer yourself?" He asked, trying to sound as insulting as he could, and succeeding, making even Blaise flinch.

Hermione literally saw red; she slammed down her book on the table, stood up so fast that the chair fell over, and grabbed hold of Malfoy's tie, nearly choking him in the process.

"Listen here, Malfoy. I'm sick and tired of your insinuations, and that last comment was beneath even you. It has never even crossed my mind to do anything like that, and even if it did, I sure as hell wouldn't do it. And Malfoy, if I ever hear you call me ´Mudblood´ again, I'll make sure only your dentist will be able to identify your body." She growled.

"Let go, dammit!" Malfoy struggled to get away from her, "Blaise, aren't you going to help me?" He asked desperately.

Blaise just looked at him, and then to Hermione, and shrugged indifferently.

"What can I say, Draco? When she's right, she's right; that was a low blow." He said. "Now come on, we've got an Arithmancy lesson to attend to." He took hold of Malfoy's shoulder and dragged him out of the library.

He risked a wink over his shoulder at Hermione; before he had his rather shocked house-mate disappeared through the doors. Hermione slumped back in her seat, not knowing whether to laugh at Blaise's save, or cry at Malfoy's insinuations. Resolving to go back to the Gryffindor Common Room, and continue reading there, she checked out the book and walked off.

******'

Blaise tried to ignore Draco's suspicious glances as they made their way to Professor Vector's classroom, while reading through his homework, to see if he had done anything wrong. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut in the library, but his temper had gotten the better of him and he'd just lashed out. Of course he would have one hell of a time getting out if it now, since he didn't want to call Hermione Granger ´Mudblood´ under any circumstances, mainly because he never used the word since his parents had been rather Muggle-tolerant, but he'd manage somehow.

"What the hell did you just do, Blaise? Did you defend the Mudblood Gryffindor?" Draco asked after a while.

"I didn't defend her, Draco; I merely stated facts; it was a low blow, even for being you." Blaise shrugged, but he knew he'd have to do better than that.

"It was not! It was justified; no Mudblood should have better grades than Pureblood wizards! She must be doing something to raise them higher!" Draco snapped back.

Once again, Blaise lost his temper, and since there was no librarian in the vicinity to throw him out for being too loud, he didn't even try to keep his voice down.

"For the love of god, Draco; you were just short of accusing her of sleeping to Snape! I don't know about you, but I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy; she studies, Draco, she studies, and that's all I do, and if you've failed to notice, I'm the second best in our year, with her being the first!" Blaise almost, but not quite, shouted at him. "I don't care if she's your enemy, I don't care if she's Gryffindor; there are some things you just don't say, and that was one of them!"

"But that Mudblood -"Draco started, clearly bewildered.

"Don't! Just don't, alright? My sister is married to a Muggle, so by saying that word, you're insulting my niece and nephew, and I don't want to hear you say things like that, alright?" Blaise said, calmer now, but still angry.

"Sorry, I didn't think -"Draco said, once again interrupted by Blaise.

"It's clear you didn't, just don't do it again. Let's go to Arithmancy." Blaise didn't look at him.

Draco's words had angered him; he'd never called anyone Mudblood, not even before his sister had married, his parents had been very much against Voldemort, no matter how much they were Slytherin. But that wasn't what had angered him the most; it was the fact that the words had been directed at Hermione Granger.

Draco didn't have a right to talk about her like that; he didn't know anything about her. Granted, neither did he, but at least he knew more than Draco, and that gave him a right to be offended, or at least that's what he told himself. He should be the only one allowed to insult her; and he felt vaguely offended when someone else, like Draco, did. None of it was reasonable, but he didn't feel like being reasonable right now.

*****'

Hermione didn't know how she got through that day, but when she finally collapsed into bed, she fell asleep instantly. Her friends knew better than to disturb her sleep, since she had been horrible enough while awake; if they woke her up from her much wanted and needed sleep, she'd hex them six ways to hell.

The day had been confusing to say the least; she'd been defended from Malfoy, by Blaise, a Slytherin himself. She'd heard rumours that Blaise had had a shouting match with Malfoy not long afterwards, and that Malfoy seemed to act a bit better after that. She'd been surprised, of course, and couldn't help but wonder if she had anything to do with that conversation.

It was amazing how barely four hours in the company of Blaise Zabini could change her outlook on Slytherins in general and Blaise in particular. She found herself tolerating Slytherins more than she used to, but Draco Malfoy was an exception to that rule, and a big one; she had a feeling she'd always dislike him to some degree.

Blaise was different, somehow. She didn't delude herself into thinking that he was nice, not by any stretch of imagination, but he seemed a little more approachable than the rest of his house. Not that that was hard or anything; a Slytherin was more likely to hex someone's head off than speak to them.

Blaise wasn't nice; he was a sarcastic bastard who was too smart for his own good, and he seemed to enjoy insulting people, just because he thought it was funny. None of that qualified as ´nice´, but she found herself enjoying listening to his little insults, and finding them funny, to some extent. It was strange and probably wrong of her, but for the moment, she didn't care, and she doubted she ever would.

She'd never told anyone, but the Sorting Hat had had a hard time Sorting her. The choice had stood between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, but for a moment, it had said she might do well in Slytherin if she'd been Pureblood. She'd been ignoring that thought for almost seven years now, but suddenly, it seemed appropriate. It would have been more fun, anyway; Gryffindors had a rather shallow sense of humour.

She'd always felt like the odd one out, even after becoming friends with Harry and Ron; they were the perfect Gryffindors; breaking rules with no fear of getting caught, always ready to take responsibility for others, and always telling the truth. She wasn't like that; she more often than not planned her after-curfew excursions, so that she wouldn't get caught, she took responsibility for others, but felt they could take it themselves, and she'd been known to lie more than average, sometimes just to save herself and sometimes to save others.

Granted, Harry and Ron had lied, but in the strictly Gryffindor way, i.e.; not getting away with it. She'd almost always gotten away with her lies. And strangely enough, it made her proud; she'd always been the know-it-all, always there to tie up the loose ends and make sure they weren't caught. Now she finally had something she didn't have to share with Harry and Ron.

She snuggled closer to her pillow, and smiled in her sleep. Any discoveries could wait until tomorrow.

*****'

Draco had been very quiet since Blaise's outburst, and was sitting in a corner, apparently sulking about something. Blaise watched him, but returned to his book as soon as he had made sure the blond boy wouldn't do anything drastic.

He hadn't seen Hermione since the library incident, but he didn't doubt she was upset about Draco's behaviour. He resolved to go and talk to her about her when he got the chance; he'd explain that he'd talked to Draco, and that if Draco ever did anything of the sort again, he'd rip him apart.

He caught himself just after he'd thought it; he couldn't do that, it would sound too protective, and more than a little wrong. He'd have to phrase it differently, but he'd make sure Draco didn't do anything like that again. He didn't like to admit it, but Draco's choice of words had unnerved him; hopefully, the boy would think twice before using that word again.

He snapped his book shut, startling Draco, who looked up, and walked up to his dormitory. There, he lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. A lot had happened over the last twenty-four hours, and he needed some time to sort it out.

Apparently, he had gained a new not friend, precisely, but at least someone of the Gryffindor House who wouldn't kill him on sight. That was a very rare thing indeed, when one was a Slytherin. And Hermione Granger wasn't the sort of Gryffindor who was usually accepting of Slytherins, which just made it a bigger victory. Not that he cared all that much; it would be nice to have her on his side, should she ever get angry, but if she wasn't, well, where's the loss?

He rolled over, and stared at the floor instead. Maybe it would be a loss. But they couldn't exactly be friends now could they? She had Potter and Weasley, who resented Slytherin students more than anything and besides, one conversation didn't prove anything. It hadn't even been a very civil conversation; they had been insulting each other, stopping only to catch their breath.

No, he'd have to sort it out tomorrow. Generally, things like this wasn't very much trouble.

******'

Ending Notes; hope you like it. I'll get whatever resemblance of a plot there is going in the next chapter. (probably). Well, R&R, peeps.