hello You have to be insane to try to go to attend lessons after having been awake for no less than twenty-six hours. In a row. And considering I spent four of those hours sitting on a bleeding windowsill, my back hurt like hell. The star-count was up to something close to eleven thousand before I got side-tracked and lost count. At times like these, coffee was the gift of the gods. It was every other morning as well; it was just that this morning, I wouldn't have made it down the stairs without it.

I inspected the surface of the Slytherin table very closely, as my forehead was resting against it. I was much too tired to lift it up again and just clutched at my coffee-cup like a madman. I actually snarled anyone who dared to get closer to me than two feet. There weren't many who did, but when they had once made that mistake, they did not do it again. I think I sent three of them to the hospital wing with broken fingers. I didn't mean to be so violent, but they were looking at my coffee as if they wanted it for themselves, and I'm very protective of my coffee. Very protective.

I had an early class, being Charms, though it was the only class I had before lunch, and after lunch I only had once as well; Defence. They had to space out our lessons so that we didn't finish earlier than intended. Too bad; if they hadn't done that, and packed our days full, we would be stressed as hell, but we'd finish school a year earlier. Maybe they didn't want us keeling over from exhaustion. Hell, maybe they liked us to much that they wanted to keep us one more year. That theory was even plausible in some cases. Not mine though. They all either disliked me or forgot me.

"Blaise, if you don't get your head off the table, you're going to have a dent in your scull soon," Draco commented, sitting down next to me, "How much coffee have you had?"

"Three cups." I mumbled back, not lifting my head.

"And you still can't sit up straight? Blaise, what did you do last night?" Draco chuckled, apparently amused at the innuendo he managed to put in his words.

"I counted stars, Draco, because I was so unbelievably bored out of my wits." I replied, "I have not slept in twenty-six hours. Do not annoy me, or they will be finding bits of you in ten years time. Hand me the coffee. Now."

He did as I ordered, and handed me the coffee pot. Once I was out of Hogwarts, I was going to form a House-Elf Appreciation Society, and praise them for their coffee. Wonderful, awakening coffee that was the only thing that could ever get me through the day. Ever. I wouldn't even make it to luncheon without coffee, and anyone who came between me and my coffee would receive a true Slytherin revenge. A stab in the back. With a dull knife.

I managed to get my head off of the table after the fourth cup, but judging from the look of my fellow student's eyes, I resembled a zombie. Or Jack Skellington. I hadn't dared to look in the mirror that morning, so I had no idea myself. Pansy and Draco were being sugar-sickness-inducing cute again, and Millicent was busy with her own breakfast, so I stared distractedly at the other tables instead. Ravenclaws were chatting with each other, or watching the chess-game between their House-champions MacDougal and Turpin, which was getting pretty heated. It looked like Turpin was about to win. She was damn good at chess, Muggle or Wizard. I'd played against her once, but I lost, and I'm good at it. Playing, that is.

Hufflepuffs were just generally chatting, though it looked like there was a minor fight brewing between a girl with pigtails and Bones. It didn't look too serious though. More like a minor setback. Everyone pre-Hogwarts, and everyone who has long since graduated from school and doesn't remember too clearly anymore, and most Gryffindors, believe that Hufflepuffs are slow, constantly loyal and never get into fights. They don't know how wrong they are. If they'd only look every once in a while, they'd notice that Hufflepuffs fight as much as everyone. They've just learned to do it quietly.

Gryffindors. As always, the most annoyingly awake and cheery people, even at this time of the day. Food-fights were common at their table, but not even they dared to start one on the second day at breakfast, no less. The Trinity seemed to be having a whispered fight; those were usual. They went the same way each time; Granger would come up with something and say it, and then Weasley would snap at her, because he's stupid and angry that he didn't come up with it first, and then Potter would try to calm them down, and they'd turn on him and then he'd get angry. All of it never spoken above a whisper, to avoid attention from the rest of the House. Pretty clever way of not getting attention, but I wish they'd keep their rows outside the Great Hall.

The High Table was never filled at this time of day, but there were a few teachers there; Sprout, for example, and Sinistra. The Muggle Studies teacher, whatever his name is. I never took Muggle Studies, so I never bothered to learn. He looks odd, kind of like someone put in the wrong place and not realising it. I mean, he wears a top hat on all occasions. Strange fellow. I sipped the last of my fourth cup, before deciding I might as well be early to Charms for once, and got up. I nodded goodbye to my friends, and headed out.

Professor Flitwick is one of my favourite teachers; he's the Head of Ravenclaw, but he has no sign of favouring his own House at all. He's fair. He's also small and easy to fool, in some people's eyes. I used to believe that he was the dimmest teacher at Hogwarts, but boy, did I learn better than that. In third year, when I had been pranking a Ravenclaw, and thought I'd gotten away with it, he managed to catch me red-handed, based on nothing but how suspicious I looked when I was sitting in front of him in class. I'll never underestimate Flitwick again. Ever.

I reached the Charms classroom a little worse for wear; Peeves had thought it a good idea to dive-bomb me with mud-cakes he'd made himself. I'd gotten away from most of it, but one had hit me on the shoulder with a resounding splat, and now I had a hastily drying mud-stain on my robes. Well, at least the day was going better than yesterday; by this time then, I was lying on the floor with my nose squashed. I pushed the door to the classroom open and stepped inside, brushing at the stain without any major effect. Flitwick was standing on his chair and his book and was writing on the blackboard. He turned around when I entered and smiled at me.

"Ah, good morning, Mr Zabini!" He chirped. Always cheerful, that one. "How are you this fine morning?"

"Better than yesterday, but not as good as I could be," I replied cryptically and sat down in my seat, "Peeves decided he was bored and threw mud at me."

"One day, we will have to do something about that poltergeist," Flitwick shook his head. "Now, what brings you here this early? The lesson doesn't start in half an hour."

"I wanted to be early for once, I guess." I shrugged, "And I wanted to talk to you; I don't have a textbook for Charms. Due to an unfortunate accident before term started, it was destroyed."

"Oh, that's too bad," Flitwick looked worried, "I'm afraid you'll have to share a book with one of your friends until you can buy yourself a new one. What happened to it?"

"It burned." I stared at my desk.

And that was all the conversation we had until class started. I tried to get the mud off my robes, but failed miserably. Not that it would make any difference in my appearance; I was ugly enough without it. Millicent came in and sat down next to me. She had gotten a good grade in Charms, and as far as I could understand, she was taking Potions, Defence, Charms and, oddly enough, Herbology. Not a Slytherin subject, normally, but I guessed she just enjoyed being away from all Gryffindors but Longbottom, and even he couldn't screw up Herbology.

"'Lo there Millie. Mind if I share your book?" I asked.

"Nope, not at all. Here, why don't you take my quill while you're at it?" She grinned.

"Don't mind if I do," I mumbled, and turned my attention to Flitwick again.

I was amazed I managed to keep my eyes open through the whole lesson, but then again, the sizzling energy of caffeine was burning through my veins, making me sit up straight and awake, even though I wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. My eyes burned, but I stayed awake. Due to the excellent coffee at Hogwarts, I was also able to hear everyone and everything due to my constant waking. I fear I'm not making much sense but after twenty-seven hours and four cups of coffee, no one makes much sense.

They were whispering behind me. I concentrated on them for a moment, and realised it was Weasley and Potter whispering. Granger was sitting in front of them, just to the side of me, and was staring straight ahead, apparently intent on not noticing. As if she couldn't hear them. Stupid; she should learn how to look innocent; it'd help her a lot when dealing with Weasley and Potter. They were still whispering; it sounded like Weasley was trying to convince Potter of something, though I couldn't hear what it was. Apparently Potter was being exceptionally pig-headed. Slowly but surely, their whispering was getting on my nerves.

After five minutes or so of whispered conversation behind me, I leaned over to Granger, who leaned out of the way with a horrified look on her face. Can't blame her really; I must've looked like a zombie with bad breath. I certainly felt like one.

"Granger, I know you hate me and all," I started quietly, as to not disturb Flitwick, "But your little friends have been driving me up the wall with their chit-chat. I would appreciate if you could rein them in again."

"Zabini, if you don't shut your mouth and get back to work, I am going to hex you," Granger told me levelly without raising her eyes from the book, "Harry and Ron are individuals, despite what you might think, and I can't ´rein them in´, as you call it."

"You mean you three aren't attached at the hip?" I mumbled, though only to myself, as I leaned back into my seat again. So much for getting some peace and quiet. Bloody cheeky Gryffindors.

I spent the rest of the lesson alternating between listening to the lecture and reading, and flicking pieces of parchment at Potter and Weasley, who was conveniently located behind me and slightly to the left, so I could throw things at them without being noticed. I managed to score a hit on Weasley's forehead, and one on Potter's glasses, without being noticed. I'm pretty sure Flitwick saw me, but since I wasn't disrupting the lesson, he didn't say anything. Yet another teacher loyal to my cause; to annoy the Gryffindors. And do so without losing points or getting detention. I was getting pretty good at it ever since I started in fourth year. It was only lately that I'd started going after the more important ones, like Potter.

I was surprised when the lesson ended; I'd been so caught up in throwing parchment that I hadn't even noticed. I stood up and walked out the door immediately, as I had no things to bring with me. Millicent headed after me, and after a quick goodbye, she descended the stairs to the dungeons; Potions was coming up for her. I now had one free hour before lunch, and then I had one free hour after lunch, before Defence. A lot of time to kill. I dug my hands into my pockets and wandered off, vaguely in the direction of the Great Hall. There were a lot of places in the castle that I hadn't seen yet, so I might as well take my time and explore some before heading to lunch.

*******'

Perfect. Just bloody perfect. I had fifteen minutes to go before I had to be in the Defence classroom, and I was stuck in some room filled with paintings, where the door was currently pretending to be a wall. I had long since thrown my hands up and surrendered, and was currently sitting on the floor with my back against the wall. There was a painting on the opposite wall, of a pack or flock of Thestrals, who were flying above what looked to be the Forbidden Forest. Unlike all magical pictures, this one didn't move. Most of the paintings on the walls were asleep, and the few who were awake only sneered at me and left. One frame, just to the side of the Thestral mural, had been empty since I arrived.

I was bored. Just about as bored as I had been last night when I had resorted to counting stars. From the looks of the situation, I was going to be late to my second-ever Defence lesson for a teacher who already disliked me due to my lack of decent books. Perfect. Bloody perfect with a cherry on top. Not only was the caffeine doing things to my mind, I was also stuck in a room without any chance to get out. With my luck, I was going to develop a severe case of claustrophobia in only a few minutes. Why had I chosen to go exploring when I knew I'd end up like this? Well, there was nothing for it but to wait until the door decided to show up again.

I picked on a loose thread of my shirt, trying to pass the time. I was in more trouble than I really anted to think about right now, and pulled out my Defence book. Or rather, I tried to, until I realised I'd forgotten it in my dormitory. I snorted; this day was turning out to be one for the books. Forgotten books, trap-doors that weren't there when you needed them, four cups of coffee and soon thirty hours since I'd had any sleep. Whoever said sixth year was easy deserved to be shot. Preferably where it hurt. And where they could survive to live through that pain.

"What are you doing here?" A sharp voice asked suddenly, breaking him out of his meandering thoughts. "This is a restricted room."

"I got lost," I replied, looking in the direction the voice came from. It turned out to be the picture-frame that had been empty when I arrived. Now it was filled by someone I vaguely recognised; I'd seen him somewhere before, but I couldn't remember where. He looked almost royal. "And the room refuses to let me out again. I have approximately fourteen minutes before my next lesson starts, and during those fourteen minutes, I have to get out, get down to the Common Room, get my book and get back to the classroom."

"You look too old to ´get lost´", The portrait replied, looking at me, "What, pray tell, were you doing in this part of the castle? And why are you breaking the dress code?"

"I was walking," I said, annoyed with the snobbish tone in the painting's voice, "And not thinking. I'm breaking dress-code just because I can. Is there any way out of here?"

"Yes. But only if you want to see it." The painting replied, before giving me a nasty smile and disappearing from the frame.

"Hey come back!" I shouted, "How do I get out?"

"You can't get out, not unless you really want to." He reappeared, "And then you have to be careful so you don't end up outside the castle altogether. It moves around. A tricky room this is."

And then he disappeared. He just upped and went, leaving me alone in a room full of snoring paintings. And I now had, I glanced at my watch, twelve minutes to get out, get my book and get to the lesson. Glaring at the empty frame and muttering curse words to myself, I got up off the floor. I pulled out my wand, and started poking at the walls with it, looking for where the door had to be. I moved around the room, keeping in mind that my time was running out, looking for that damned door and not finding it. It took me three minutes to move around the whole room, and well aware that I had only nine minutes left, I turned back to the empty frame.

There had to be a way out of here. My wand had scraped across every available stone in the room, and not yet found the door. He'd said I could only get out if I really wanted to, but I did. I didn't want to be late for my lesson, and if I was stuck here forever, I'd never see my friends again. So, I wanted to get out, but there wasn't a door in sight. I'd gotten in through a door, so there had to be one. It just didn't show. But it had to be there. I'd gone over all walls of the oval room...Except the Thestral painting. I turned to it quickly, and began running my hands across it, looking for some small crack in it, or a place where the wall disappeared.

My fingers closed around a small, thin crack in the mural, and I bent it open agonizingly slowly. I sent a silent thank you to the portrait and his cryptic advice as I saw the corridor in front of me again. I stepped outside before the door had time to disappear again, and breathed a sigh of relief. I was out. Now for the Defence lesson. I glanced at my watch; I had seven minutes now, and if I was quick, I just might make it only five minutes late. I set off in a sprint down the hall, heading for the Common Room. Hopefully, Professor Lucas wouldn't behead me if I was late. He looked the type to do that.

I rushed head-first into our Common Room, startling the poor second-years who were having a free hour, and climbed the stairs quicker than I'd ever climbed them before. I snatched my poorly abused book and rushed downstairs again, past the still horrified second-years and out the door. Five minutes left. I skidded around a corner in the hallway, nearly running straight into the wall, and started on the stairs up to the Defence classroom.

Another corner, another flight of stairs. A long hallway full of fourth- years who jumped out of my way like frightened rabbits. Flitwick, who was carrying a stack of parchment, narrowly avoided being knocked over when I ran past. I could hear him laughing as I turned yet another corner. Two minutes left. Panic decided to make a visit. I took the last flight of stairs three at the time, hoping against all reason that I'd get there before Lucas did.

One minute left; I could see the classroom door, but I could also see Lucas right outside it - he was carrying a stack of parchment which I guessed was a test for us. I sped up as much as I could with my already pained legs, and reached the door just as Lucas put his hand on the door handle. He looked up and jumped out of the way as I nearly crashed into him and stumbled to a stop. Damn, my lungs hurt; I'd run across half the castle, or so it felt, in seven minutes. I leaned against the wall, supporting myself with an elbow, breathing harshly. Lucas was just standing there, watching me with an eyebrow raised.

"Do you plot to kill me, or were you just having trouble slowing down?" He asked after a moment or so; I'd lost all concepts of time as I concentrated on breathing.

"Slowing...down," I replied, catching my breath for a second, before launching into a coughing fit.

"Very well then," He opened the door, "As soon as you manage to breathe normally again, you are welcome to sit down."

I make my way into the classroom after him. Blood pounding through my ears was making me a bit dizzy, and I stared out over the students dumbly for a moment, before discovering that Padma Patil was already sitting next to Millicent, so I was left with the seat next to Justin-of-the-long-surname. I collapsed on the chair and tried to catch my breath again. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to breathe normally, but failing. I glanced at my clock again; the lesson was starting just on time, and I had made it. I could hardly believe it. I'd run like a madman across most of the castle, in seven minutes.

From the Slytherin Common Room to the Defence classroom, it was about six flights of stairs, two of them long ones, and four hallways, at normal length, which meant about three kilometres, just from the Common Room to the classroom. Before that, I'd run from the Thestral room to the Common Room, and that was about half a kilometre. Let's say four kilometres to be even. In seven minutes. I'm a freak. An utter freak. Lucas said something, and I came back to the present.

"You were given homework last time." He said, staring with his freakish eyes at us again, "Now you will be given a parchment to write on. I am sure you all remember the phrase from last time; you are to write down what it means to you. Before you protest, no, this is not a pointless assignment; as soon as you are done, I will explain it."

I raised my eyebrow; what did that phrase have to do with Defence? Of course, I didn't ask, partly because he said he'd explain it, and partly because I knew better than to question his knowledge of the subject. I merely accepted the parchment when he handed it to me, and pulled out my quill. "I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright, who art black as hell and dark as night". That was what he'd written. What could it possibly mean, aside from the obvious? And what did it have to do with Defence?

My breathing now back to normal, I scribbled down my seemingly random thoughts on the parchment I'd been handed. It had to have something to do with Defence; else there was no reason for him to waste our time on it. Well, Defence dealt mostly with Dark Creatures and curses, which were pretty dark and gory by themselves. But most of the curses, at least, didn't appear to be dark at first sight, and who would think that a Kappa was a Dark Creature? It looked like a scaly monkey, for crying out loud. Scribbling randomly, I ignored the rest of the classroom.

The coffee must have seriously influenced my writing, and I had no idea what I wrote, but I managed to fill a whole page. Who knows if it was a whole page on a carefully thought-out theory on why the colour of the Slytherin Common Room was green and silver and for some odd reason, black. Who knows, and who cares? It wasn't as if my grade depended on it; if it did, Lucas would have told us.

"Time is up; hand in your parchment," He said, "And I will explain this."

One of the Hufflepuffs, I forget her name, gathered all of our little essays, and handed them in quickly, before sitting down again. Lucas stacked them up in front of him, and waved his wand quickly, making the phrase re-appear on the blackboard.

"This might seem like an unimportant poem to you," He began, "But it is, in fact, important to what you will learn during this year. It refers to the dangers of the Dark Arts. While many of the curses might seem innocent, and many of the creatures are more or less harmless, that does not change the fact that they are Dark Creatures and curses. They will kill you when you turn your back, no matter how much they smile when you look at them. You will not only learn how to defend yourself from these things; you will learn their ways. Your exam this year will be more difficult than anything you have ever faced, and yes, Mr Potter, that includes you too."

I raised my eyebrow and looked from Lucas to Potter, who was sitting in the front row like a good little boy. He seemed to be sputtering, although with my lack of sanity due to sleep deprivation and the seat I was sitting in, I couldn't be sure. Funny; I never imagined that there would be a Defence exam hard enough to give Potter trouble. I mean, I dislike him greatly, and would like to see him fail an exam, but with Defence, that would be difficult to achieve. Mocking Voldemort once a year was not something for the weak-hearted.

"I will not reveal any details as of yet, since I have not ascertained that you will be allowed to take the exam I have planned for you, but I can assure you that everyone, no matter what might have happened in earlier years, will have difficulties with the exam. Trained Aurors would," He added, almost as an afterthought.

I raised my hand again, despite evidence that this action had gotten me in trouble earlier. Lucas nodded at me, and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against his desk.

"Mr Zabini?"

"If trained Aurors would have trouble with the exam," I said, "Why would you let a bunch of sixteen-year-olds do it? I mean, aside from Potter, Weasley and Granger, none of us have ever faced anything worse than Draco in a bad mood. Not that that is altogether harmless, mind you."

"Well," Lucas looked at me thoughtfully, "As I know you are aware, there is a war brewing. I do not know which side you will be fighting on, but I refuse to be responsible for your deaths, no matter which way you choose. If you get through the exam with reasonably good results, you will at least have a chance."

I blinked, but nodded. That was the first time any adult had ever mentioned the war, at least within my hearing range. Dumbledore had talked about Voldemort coming back, but never outright about the war. Lucas reasoning was logical though, if a bit Gryffindor. Not that I blame him; I wouldn't want to be responsible for anyone's death either, even if they happened to be Gryffindors. I could live with that explanation, even though it made me horribly curious about our exams. I listened to the rest of his lecture only paying half of the attention I should have. Partly due to my intense lack of sleep, and partly because his explanation had sparked my curiosity, which once lit never let go. Life should get pretty interesting, come exam time.

I looked around at the others, wondering how they took the news. Justin of the long surname looked frightened, but determined. Most of the Hufflepuffs did; Bones looked almost angry. The Ravenclaw Patil's shaking hands, to Boot's quiet terror. But Potter was the worst; he looked almost nauseous with terror, and he was clutching his wand till his knuckles turned white. Not that I blamed him or anything; having to shoulder defeating the Dark Lord had to be pretty frightening. I shook my head; well, at least they knew enough to be afraid. I could only imagine what the younger students would do; they would probably jump at any chance to win glory in the war. Stupid brats.

********'

Ending Notes; I apologise sincerely if there is any incoherence in this; it was written under the influence of sleep deprivation and inspiration, which did not want to let go in the slightest.