Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Here is is, chapter two. I'm so glad to have had such positive reviews. Again, I'm going to dedicate this to the lovely people on the HMS O&U - may the cookie jar always be overflowing and Blaise never run out of coffee.

THE IMPORTANCE OF ANCIENT RUNES
Chapter Two: In Which Hermione Makes a Deal with a Snake

At the doors of the Hospital Wing, Hermione untangled herself from Blaise's support. "Thank you, Zabini," she said sincerely. "I'll see you in Ancient Runes."

Without waiting for a reply, she pushed open the door and hobbled in, clearly not wanting the Slytherin's assistance for another minute. Shrugging, Blaise went back to the Slytherin common room, not realising that he was still clutching the bag with Hermione's new books in until he reached the dungeons.

After having her ankle healed by Madam Pomfrey - a tap of her wand and a sweet-smelling ointment - Hermione had gone back to Gryffindor Tower, glad to kick off her shoes - the new shoes she was wearing had enhanced the discomfort of her twisted ankle. There were red marks on the back of her heels from where they had rubbed, and she inspected these as she curled up in a chair in the common room. She winced slightly as she prodded one of the marks, wondering if it was worth putting a spell on her shoes to make them more comfortable.

However, after remembering what had happened to a seventh year that had done a similar thing a week or so earlier - her shoes had exploded - Hermione decided against it. She rather liked her new shoes, even if they did pinch a bit.

There were only a few other students in the common room; a couple of second years were playing an exuberant game of wizards chess, watched by their friends, and a small first year boy who seemed to be drowning in parchment as he attempted to tackle his homework. She smiled to herself, remembering herself at that age. Harry and Ron joked that she was as bad as ever, but she disagreed. Anyway, now that they were in sixth year they were fewer subjects. Hermione was taking five: Charms, Ancient Runes, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and a new subject, Modern and Magical Languages. She had originally been taking Arithmancy, but had changed to Ancient Runes after a 'slight disagreement' with the new professor. Professor Vector had retired at the end of the previous term and had been replaced by someone to whom Hermione had taken an immediate disliking. Whether it was her annoying, honey-coated voice or the fact that she called all of the students in the class 'darling', Hermione was not entirely sure.

Actually, the 'slight disagreement' had involved raised voices on both accounts, resulting in a fleeing of the classroom. Seeing the professor run from the room, crying, Hermione had dubbed that one of the highlights of her time at Hogwarts. Indeed, it came a close second to that spectacular slap she had given Draco Malfoy in third year; she could still clearly see the look on his face after she had done it and whenever he resorted to vulgar insults, all she had to do was close her eyes and she could see it.

Modern and Magical Languages was a class only offered at NEWT level, and students who wanted to take it were required to take an exam to show that they were competent at language acquisition. The class was extremely small and consisted of only five students. Padma Patil and Mandy Brocklehurst were perfectly agreeable, Daphne Greengrass was a surprisingly pleasant Slytherin and Seamus Finnegan was the wild card: on the first day, even the professor had been surprised to see him in the class. They were currently studying Mermish and French; apparently, there were several linguistic similarities between the two languages.

She reached for her new books. Quite obviously, they were not there, and she groaned inwardly. That meant that Blaise Zabini still had them. Shoving her feet painfully back into her shoes, Hermione pushed open the portrait.

"Off again, dear?" the Fat Lady asked.

"Unfortunately," Hermione mumbled, as the portrait swung shut. It was only as she padded down the corridor in the dungeons that she realised she was not entirely sure of the location of the Slytherin common room. Ron and Harry had been there before, in the second year, but she had not; the Polyjuice incident was best left unmentioned. She could sometimes even feel a phantom tail, a very peculiar sensation indeed. Then there was the second problem: even if she did find the Slytherin common room, she had no way of actually getting in there to retrieve her books from Zabini.

She turned a corner, which took her deeper into the dungeons. The portraits that hung on the walls seemed to be whispering amongst themselves as she passed them, and she had a faint idea that they were saying something along the lines of "Why is a Gryffindor down in this part of the school?"

After wandering around for about half an hour, she heard a familiar voice, a smirk almost audible. "What's a Gryffindor like you doing down here, Granger?"

Turning around, Hermione found Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of the corridor, a simpering Pansy Parkinson hanging off his arm, a sickly sweet smile on her pale face. Hermione wondered if Malfoy had any other facial expressions apart from 'annoying smirk' and 'superior smirk'.

"I need to see Zabini," Hermione told him flatly. She was too tired to bother trading insults, no matter how appealing that might have seemed. Besides, her feet were hurting.

"What do you want with him," a sneering Pansy asked.

"He has something of mine. Could you get him for me?"

"What's in it for me?" Malfoy asked, showing what Hermione assumed must have been another facial expression in his repertoire: 'sleazy smirk'. Pansy swatted him on the arm, giggling.

"Draco," she cooed, attempting, Hermione assumed, to sound bashful.

"Malfoy," Hermione said impatiently. She did not have time for this; there were books to be read and rules to be kept.

"Fine, don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger," he snapped, striding over to the wall, where he leant in close to the bricks. She saw his lips move slightly as he whispered the password. The entrance to their common room opened and Pansy went in. "Wait out here," Malfoy told Hermione.

"Just get Zabini."

When the entrance sealed up behind him, Hermione could not help but wonder whether he was actually going to fetch Zabini or just leave her waiting in the corridor. However, a couple of minutes later the entrance opened again, and Zabini wandered out, an open book in his hands.

"Y'know this is fascinating stuff," he remarked slyly, snapping the book shut. Hermione grabbed it from him, her nails accidentally scraping his skin. He pulled a face, retracting his hands. "No need to be so violent."

"Where are my other books?"

He jerked his head in the direction of his common room, clearly with no intention of actually going to retrieve them.

"Go and get them." Hermione was not impressed.

"I don't really think that I can be bothered."

"Zabini."

The Slytherin rolled his eyes and sauntered back into his common room. Emerging a minute later, he handed the two other books to Hermione. "What I want to know," he said airily, "is why you're reading a book about Animagi."

"I'm doing Transfiguration," she told him, pursing her lips. Was he going to get her books or not?

"I have it on fairly good authority that the Animagus transformation isn't studied at NEWT level." Millicent was a veritable fountain of knowledge when it came to that particular subject: as far as Transfiguration was concerned, no Slytherin was more ambitious than Millicent, and she had turned that annoying Slytherin girl from her dormitory, Tracey Davis, into a pig on more than one occasion. She, however, had received three nights' worth of detention after the first time she had done it and Professor McGonagall had had to remove the spell.

"It's a bit of light reading," she told him tartly.

Blaise gave a derisive snort. "Light reading? That book weighs as much as a small child."

"What I read in my spare time is of no concern to you, Zabini," Hermione said. Why was he so irritating? "Have a nice afternoon," she added. Politeness never hurt anyone.

"Same to you," Blaise said smartly, disappearing back into the Slytherin common room. Hermione was left in the corridor, holding her books. He's right, she thought idly, this book does weigh a fair bit. Pushing all thoughts of this rather odd Slytherin from her mind, Hermione made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. How the Slytherins managed to live in the dungeons was beyond her.

Inside the Slytherin common room, Blaise found Draco and Pansy waiting for him. For a fleeting moment, he found himself comparing them to vultures, waiting to attack their prey. The two Slytherin prefects eyed him beadily, waiting to speak.

"What did Granger want with you?" Draco snapped, eye narrowing in suspicion.

"I stole her books," Blaise explained languidly, flopping onto a sofa and swinging up his legs. Was it just him or was the sofa particularly lumpy today?

"And you gave them back?" Pansy asked, incredulously, her dark eyes wide. "What did you want to do a thing like that for? You could have tormented her for days." She seemed to be most put out by the thought of Blaise's kindness.

"Think of the possibilities you've wasted, Blaise," Draco added, shaking his head in disbelief at Blaise's apparent stupidity. "You could have made her work to get them back." He raised a blond eyebrow. "I'm sure that mouth of hers is good for something, if you know what I mean."

Blaise, however, ignored the lewd comment from the Malfoy heir. He did not even want to think about Granger in that way. "Didn't seem worth the effort." Blaise reached for a small, brightly coloured, rectangular box. "Exploding Snap, anyone?"

When Hermione had told Blaise that she was reading The History of the Animagus Transformation for a bit of light reading, she had not exactly been telling the truth. She had not been blatantly lying, either: it was not required of her to read the book, but she was doing so to improve her knowledge of the subject.

Whilst staying at Grimmauld Place for the last week of the summer - a place that felt dreadfully empty without Sirius' presence - she had come across a lively discussion between Professor McGonagall and Tonks. They had been debating about which was better: being an Animagus or being a Metamorphmagus. Upon spotting Hermione, Tonks had asked her opinion to which Hermione had replied, somewhat reluctantly, that she had always found the Animagus transformation particularly fascinating.

Tonks did not speak to her for three hours after this, and when she had tripped over and managed to spill ink on one of Hermione's neatly written essays, Hermione was not sure whether it had been entirely accidental.

A day later, Professor McGonagall had approached Hermione. She offered to aid Hermione to become an Animagus, the obvious subtext to her proposal being that it would be good for the Order to have another person with the ability working for it. Without even pausing to think, Hermione had agreed. Since she had returned to Hogwarts, Hermione met Professor McGonagall almost every evening and the Head of Gryffindor had assured Hermione that she was making great progress.

Hermione was not so inclined to agree - she had yet to make the transformation, and was growing increasingly frustrated. However, she reminded herself, she had only been trying for less than two months. McGonagall had explained that it had taken her nearly three years before she had been able to change into her feline form.

Settling down in a chair in the corner of the common room, Hermione immersed herself in The History of the Animagus Transformation. By the time that Harry and Ron returned from Hogsmeade, both clutching bags bearing the Zonko's logo, she was on chapter five: Amphibious Animagi.

"You alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, sitting in a chair next to her. She looked up from her book to see the black haired Gryffindor staring at her, concern written across his face.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why?"

"Neville said he saw you trip over in Hogsmeade."

"Oh, that," she mused. "It was nothing that Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix in less than a minute."

"How did you get back to the castle?" Ron asked, suspicion colouring his tone. A faint redness had already begun to creep over his freckled face.

Hermione frowned. "Someone helped me. I couldn't very well walk with a twisted ankle, could I?"

"Who?" Ron's eyes were narrowed, and Hermione suddenly felt self-conscious. Should she tell them? Then again, what harm would it do?

"Blaise Zabini. I don't think you know him."

"A Slytherin?" Harry sounded astounded. Ron turned a peculiar shade of red at this discovery.

"So you do know him."

"He's a Slytherin, Hermione!"

"Really, Ron? I hadn't noticed." Hermione looked at him carefully. "Seriously, Ron, it's nothing to get worked up about; I tripped over, he helped me back to Hogwarts. It's not like I'm involved in a sordid love affair with him."

Ron's face turned so red at this comment that his eyebrows seemed to be white. Whether this was because of the idea that Hermione could be romantically involved with a Slytherin or because Hermione had used the words 'sordid love affair', Hermione could not quite tell.

"Did he do anything to you?" Harry asked seriously.

"He stole my new books." Hermione gave a light shrug. "I got them back, though," she added, seeing the tell-tales signs that indicated Harry's temper was beginning to flare. Slytherins had a tendency to rile him up more than anything else did. Well, almost anything else. "Why are you two being so overprotective? I'm quite capable of looking after myself."

The Boy Who Lived looked downcast. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't mean to be overbearing. It's just… you're one of the closest things I have to family and I don't want to… because of…" He trailed off, eyes cast down to the floor.

Hermione understood. Since they had returned to Hogwarts, Hermione was sure that Harry had uttered Sirius' name less than a dozen times. She and Ron had come to an agreement that they would not mention his death, as Harry seemed not to want to talk about it. She nodded.

"Have you heard from Tonks lately?" she asked quietly, referring to the young, albeit clumsy, Auror, who was the daughter of Sirius' favourite cousin, Andromeda. She was one of the youngest - and possibly craziest - members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's secret alliance of wizards who opposed Voldemort.

"Yeah," Harry said, looking up at her. "They found his will." He seemed momentarily amused. "It was behind his mother's portrait."

"What'd it say?" Ron breathed, leaning forward.

Harry removed his glasses, polishing them with the edge of his robes. "He left the house to me. It's in Tonks' name until I'm eighteen, though." The news that his godfather had bequeathed Grimmauld Place to him did not seem to please Harry in slightest.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked quizzically as Harry replaced his glasses.

"It's like he knew something was going to happen to him!" Harry said exasperatedly.

"He was just taking precautions, Harry," Hermione said diplomatically. "He obviously wasn't as carefree as he'd like everyone to think - he was just looking out for you."

"I s'pose," Harry grumbled, seeing the logical side to Hermione's statement. "I still don't like it, though."

"No reason why you should," Ron said, rubbing his arm. Hermione cast a sad look at the redhead's arms - hidden underneath his jumper were scars from when he had been attacked by the brains in the Department of Mysteries. They had all been marked in some way by that night at the Ministry; Harry emotionally by the loss of his godfather, Ron both physically and emotionally by those brains, and the curse that the Death Eater had hit Hermione with had also left its mark.

"So what did you two buy in Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked, sensing that it would be a good idea to shift the topic of conversation.

Ron grinned. "Stuff that we probably shouldn't tell a prefect about," he admitted.

"You're a prefect too, Ron," Hermione reminded him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in an embarrassed sort of way.

"Well, yeah," he said uneasily, "but I'm not a prefect-y as you, am I?"

"I suppose," Hermione agreed, pursing her lips. She was itching to tell Harry and Ron about her plans to become an Animagus, but Professor McGonagall had urged her not to tell anyone. By 'anyone', Hermione had surmised that the Head of Gryffindor meant 'Harry and Ron'. No doubt, the two of them would want to join in the process, and Hermione had to agree that it would enhance the chance of being found out if there were more people who knew.

"Quidditch is going to be better than ever this year," Ron announced at breakfast the following Monday. For a Monday morning, he was in a surprisingly good mood. His mood was, in fact, even better than Harry's was, even though Harry was the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.

Harry looked up at his friend through still-bleary eyes while reaching for a bowl of cornflakes. "What makes you say that?"

Ron looked at him incredulously, gaping at him. Hermione gazed up from her copy of the Daily Prophet and said, "Close your mouth, Ron: you'll catch flies like that." He shut his mouth, although not before sticking his tongue out at her. Ginny, who was sat next to him, pulled a face, and continued talking to her current boyfriend, Dean Thomas.

"You mean you haven't heard?" Ron asked Harry.

"Heard what?"

"Malfoy's not playing this year."

Harry dropped his spoon. "What?"

Ron nodded eagerly. "Apparently, his broom has been confiscated because he got drunk on Saturday night and decided to set up a game of Quidditch in the Slytherin common room. Snape was furious. Course, instead of taking his prefect's badge, Snape just took his broom and told him that he wasn't allowed to play Quidditch for Slytherin 'until further notice'." Ron was smirking at this, looking extremely please. Even Harry looked relieved.

"But he's a prefect," Hermione said, "he should have known he was breaking at least a dozen school rules by consuming alcohol in the…"

"Give it a rest, Hermione." This came from Ginny, who had taken up on of the Chaser positions on the Gryffindor team. "Malfoy's not going to be playing Quidditch and that's all that matters."

Hermione looked at Ron. "How do you know all this, anyway?"

Ron coloured slightly. "I have my sources," he said, and this was all that he would say on the matter. He busied himself with eating his breakfast after this, and Hermione continued to read through the Prophet.

It was several minutes later, more like fifteen, actually, when Hermione looked at her watch and realised that she was going to be late for Ancient Runes. "I'd better be going," she said. "I'll see you all at lunch." There was a chorus of 'goodbye' from her friends, and Hermione set off at a fast pace to her classroom.

Just as she reached the top of the stairs to the corridor where her classroom was, she heard a shout of "Watch out!"

This was closely followed by a very male shout of "Granger!"

Zabini? She wondered a second before something red struck her and everything went black.

After this, the first thing that Hermione thought was where is that smell of broccoli coming from? The second thing was why does my head hurt?

She cracked open an eye, and then opened the other. Everything was very white, and Hermione came to the realisation that she was in the Hospital Wing.

"She's awake," Hermione heard a familiar voice say. Turning her head, she was that Harry and Ron were sat beside her bed, Ron rooting through a bag of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans while Harry nudged him in the ribs.

Harry's red jumper clashes with Ron's hair, Hermione thought, although she did not voice this opinion. Instead, she asked, "Is this what it feels like when you get hit with a Bludger?"

"A Quaffle, actually." Neither Harry, nor Ron said this. In fact, the two stood upon seeing the speaker, and Hermione saw that Ron balled his fists.

"What are you doing here, Zabini?" Harry asked sharply.

The Slytherin, who was dressed entirely in black, sighed. "I came to bring Granger a copy of my notes from Ancient Runes and her homework."

"Homework? But it's only…" Hermione looked up at the clock on the wall of the Hospital Wing. It read six forty-five; she had been asleep all day. "Oh."

"Indeed," agreed Blaise.

"Why you?" asked Ron. "Couldn't anyone else have done it?"

Blaise shrugged. "I suppose so. However, I doubt if anyone else in the class will have realised that Granger would want to go over these notes before the test next lesson."

"Visiting hours are over," Madam Pomfrey announced, appearing at the side of Hermione's bed. "Everyone out. Miss Granger needs her rest."

"But she's only just woken up!" Ron protested, Harry echoing similar sentiments.

"You can see her when I release her in the morning," Madam Pomfrey said firmly. "Out, the both of you. You too, Mr Zabini."

"I need to explain Granger's homework to her."

The nurse pursed her lips. "Very well, you can have five minutes."

"Can we stay?" Ron asked hopefully.

"No." Madam Pomfrey was resolute.

Harry and Ron bid Hermione a reluctant goodbye, and Blaise took a seat beside Hermione's bed. "It's simple enough," he told her, handing her several pieces of parchment that were covered in his small, neat handwriting. "You have until this time next week to do it. Do you know the Type C Latvian runic alphabet?"

"Just about."

"It's in the textbook, if you need a reminder."

Hermione looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Why are you helping me?"

"I think I might be developing a conscience." He seemed appalled at the idea. "I saw what happened this morning and I wanted to check up on you."

"What happened to me? You said something about a Quaffle…?"

He smiled. "Ah, yes. That. The new Ravenclaw Keeper and a couple of the Chasers thought that it would be a good idea to practise their passing in the corridor. Obviously, their new Keeper is worse than your friend Weasley is. The Quaffle kind of hit you. Then you fell down the stairs."

"Oh." That would explain why she was aching all over. "How did I get to the Hospital Wing?"

The Slytherin actually looked rather sheepish. "I helped the Ravenclaws get you here. They were in floods of tears."

"And you comforted them?" Hermione was somewhat disbelieving.

"Hardly. I'm a Slytherin, not some bloody Hufflepuff."

"I should have known." She laughed slightly, but stop when a flash of pain seared across her chest; obviously, her fall had reawakened her Ministry of Magic injury. "Do you know why Pomfrey didn't wake me up."

"McGonagall came in just after we arrived. Told Pomfrey you needed your rest. Something about working hard recently."

Hermione sighed. "This is starting to become a regular occurrence, isn't it?" she asked, somewhat dismally.

"How so?"

"Me getting hurt and you helping me to the Hospital Wing."

"I think you're just getting clumsy."

"Getting hit by a Quaffle is hardly clumsiness."

"Well, then, you're just unlucky."

Several days later, Hermione was sat in her usual corner of the library. To tell the complete and utter truth, she was bored out of her skull. There were only so many times she could go over her Charms notes, and she was quickly reaching her threshold. While she enjoyed the subject, Hermione often wished that there was not so much theory to be learnt - she would never admit it to Harry and Ron, but she was far happier casting spells than writing intricate notes about them and their creation.

Intricate notes were important, however, and Hermione prided herself on the organisation of the notes she took. If everyone took notes that were as good as hers, Hermione was convinced that more people would be scoring Os and Es in exams.

Putting down her quill, Hermione had a quick look around. There was no one else in sight, and a small smile crept onto her face.

Completely surrounded by towering bookcases, she allowed herself to relax, her concentration focussing on her Animagus form. It was there in the corner of her mind's eye, indistinct and blurry, but it was there nonetheless. She had the unerring feeling that it was something feline, although she did not know what exactly. Professor McGonagall said that her form would emerge over time, and so now Hermione closed her eyes, willing it to become clearer, willing herself to become the creature.

However, Hermione was interrupted from her thoughts by a distinct cough. Her eyes snapped open in alarm.

Blaise Zabini stood in front of her, face blank. The Slytherin slowly moved forward, not taking his eyes off her.

"Was it just me," he asked slowly, his tone curious, "or did your ears just change?"

The Gryffindor looked up at him defiantly. "It was you," she told him shortly, in clipped tones. "You must be seeing things; perhaps you should go to Madam Pomfrey?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't seeing things," he said decisively. Hermione continued to stare up at him, not breaking her gaze but at the same time willing just go away, Zabini, don't think about this anymore and, whatever you do, don't put two and two together.

Unfortunately for Hermione, Blaise was fairly competent when it came to mathematics. The book about Animagi and now this ear-changing incident clicked, and a sly smile slid across his face. "You're trying to become an Animagus."

It was not a question, merely a statement.

He also looked quiet interested, and sat down opposite Hermione, his blue eyes boring into her. I thought he would have had brown eyes, Hermione wondered vaguely.

"Say anything to anybody and I will make sure that you can't have children, Zabini," she threatened quietly, ignoring this thought.

"How very original," Blaise commented wryly. He as still staring at her, elbows on the table and hands clasped together.

"I'm serious, Zabini," she told him in a low, hissing whisper. "No one can know about this."

"Fine," the Slytherin agreed sullenly. His eyes brightened however, and he added, "But you have to do something for me."

"Like what?" She looked apprehensive - Slytherins were not exactly praised in Gryffindor, after all, and making a deal with a snake did not strike her as a particularly good idea. On the other hand, if what she was trying to do got out, it was not just herself at risk.

"Teach me to become one too." Even Blaise was surprised that he was making this request, and he anxiously bit his bottom lip. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise and she shook her head vigorously.

"What? I can't! I wouldn't know where to start!"

"Teach me whatever you're being taught." It seemed simple enough in Blaise's mind. Of course, neither girls nor Gryffindors were simple, and Hermione Granger happened to be both.

"You're mad." She sat back in her chair, looking at him open-mouthed. "Why would you want to do that anyway?" she asked, surveying him carefully.

"Who wouldn't? You haven't grown up in this society, Granger, but being able to turn into an animal is every young wizard's dream. Besides," he added, "I probably have some talent, Granger - my grandfather is one." He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as he said this.

"Cogno Zabini," she said after a moment of consideration.

Blaise was impressed. "You've heard of him?"

She nodded, albeit only a small inclination of her head. "He's on the official register." She paused, and then shook her head. "I can't do this. You keeping quiet about this isn't… I mean, it's not enough, Zabini."

"Enough? You want more from me than my word?"

"Yes," was her simple reply.

Blaise slumped back in his chair in a most un-Slytherin-like manner. What could he offer her? There was nothing at which he was exceptionally good. Something on the table in front of Hermione caught his eye. It was a textbook for her Modern and Magical Languages class. A smile spread slowly onto his face. On second thoughts, there was one thing. "I'll teach you Italian."

Whatever possessed Hermione to say what she did in reply to this eluded her completely.

"Fine."

Author's Note: Much thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter one, including ShimmeringEvil, Procella Nox-noctis, JeanB, IsLaNdMoChAgUrL, Fire Goddess, sarah, Merit Somnia, lochmon, SkoosiePants, HermyGWeasley, Louise, CarEtoDreaM, Kori, Chaos-Fyre-Elf31, Michiru Takamuni and i-h8-sclub. Much love and coffee to you all.