Morning in the Slytherin dungeons was exactly like morning everywhere else, except it was a little colder and a little darker. Draco Malfoy woke shivering into the pale green light of the round lamps. He had been dreaming about thousands of house elves that swarmed all over his bed, fanning him because they thought he was hot. And now he was freezing. Throwing open his curtains, the blond scuttled over to the central heater and stood as close to it as he dared. Having been burned by one when he was a child taught him to beware of such things.

            Blaise Zabini looked up at him from across the heater. "You cold, too?" His reddish brown hair was ruffled from just awakening and his brown eyes still held a bit of the sleepy redness that they often did in the morning.

            "Yes." Draco shivered and rubbed at his elbows. "Have I mentioned that I hate winter?" he groused.

            "You hate summer, too." The brunette handed his friend a grey blanket. "You're just picky, Draco."

            "Oh shut up." As he wrapped the blanket around himself, Draco gave Blaise a small smile. They had been friends for at least seven years now, Blaise having lived only a few miles away from the Malfoys. He was a normal looking boy who had wandered onto the Malfoy property one day to run into Draco. The two of them had fought a bit as boys tend to, then Draco had invited the other child to join him for dinner. Ever since then, they had been fast friends.

            Blaise yawned. "Tomorrow starts the Christmas holidays," he commented idly. "Are you still planning on staying at Hogwarts?" A brown eyebrow was raised. He turned up the collar of his cherry red pajamas.

            Draco nodded the affirmative, his eyes glinting sullenly in the faint light of the hanging globes. "Mother and Father are on vacation in France. They went Sloording in the Alps and didn't take me with them!" He glared into the heater. "I still can't believe it. I'm their precious Draco. And they couldn't even take me on a stupid vacation!."

            The brown haired boy rolled his eyes. "You really are a brat. Maybe I should go join the Hufflepuffs so I won't hear you whining."

            "Say that again and I'll curse your nose off your face."

            "Might not want to do that. We have our Potions midterm today and I could get back at you." Blaise grinned widely. "Throw a little unicorn hair into your cauldron… maybe tattoo 'Draco is God' on the Weasel's back… something like that."

            Draco made a grumpy sound and threw the blanket over his head. "Sod off."

            "Glad to. I have to take a shower anyway." Blaise reached over and yanked the blanket back, snuggling into it himself. "You might want to wake those two lugs of yours up before they sleep the day away."

            "They can wake themselves up. I want breakfast."

            But it was a while before the pale haired Slytherin got to his breakfast. He had just gotten dressed when Crabbe rolled off his bed and hit his head on the floor. It effectively knocked him out and scared the magic out of Draco, who went running to find Snape. By the time the large boy had been patched up, half an hour had passed and Draco was near mad with hunger. Not bothering to wait for his 'friends,' he took off down the passageway towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

            Pansy was already there with her books spread out across the end of the table, so Draco took a seat farther towards the center than he usually did. He felt light and cold, like a bird being buffeted about in a gale. And he was a hungry bird. Grabbing a muffin, he started in on it, meanwhile reaching for a glass of milk. He did not drink pumpkin juice any more, having last drunk it during a bout of stomach flu at age six. He didn't like how it reminded him of becoming sick on the wood floor of the dining room.

            Pansy tapped the table and peered over her reading glasses. "Draco, pass me the butter, will you?"

            He lifted his wand and carefully guided the butter between her books until the dish clinked gently against her plate. At her quick smile, he turned away, muttering to himself, "Why the hell does she need to study so bloody much?" Unfortunately, in turning away Draco found himself gazing across the room straight at a certain dark haired nemesis of his. As the Great Hall was rather empty (it being too early for most students to be awake) he had a very clear view of Harry Potter and his two best friends.

            Something was wrong. But what it was, he couldn't quite tell. The three goody two shoe Gryffindors were acting as normal- the red head bragging loudly about Quidditch, the frazzled girl demanding a cram session before Potions, and Potter laughing like an idiot. And yet there it was- that magical itch in the back of his mind like a premonition. A Premonition? That was silly. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin extraordinaire, did not believe in Premonitions. So instead of paying attention to it, he went back to his muffins and milk.

             But there was something strange about his muffins as well. Draco stabbed one curiously with his knife, half expecting them to bleed. The muffin, however, just sat there and took the abuse quite complacently as all good muffins should. The blond shook his head as if trying to clear it. It was probably just his anxiety over the coming Potions midterm. Either that or one of the Ravenclaw seventh years had let loose a bit of an experimental spell.

            By the time he had finished breakfast, Draco had forgotten about the strange sensations he was feeling. Instead, his mind was racing over the possibilities of experimental spells and he was longing to be a seventh year. As he trotted down to the dungeons, he was nearly skipping with glee at the thought of being famous for creating some fantastic new spell. That way he'd win the world's attention and his father's approval, not to mention Potter's jealousy.

            Severus Snape looked up from his desk with surprise at the blond Slytherin as Draco entered the room. "You're early, Mr. Malfoy. Do you think it would kill you to wait outside until class starts?" He moved his arm a little, hiding something from view under the sleeve of his robe. His dark eyes seemed even darker than usual, while his hair was unsurprisingly dirtier. Neither did a bit, in Draco's opinion, to add to his charm.

           Draco, in a bit of a huff, turned on his heel and marched out into the hall, where he leaned up against the wall, sulking. Usually Snape had no problem with him coming in the classroom early to get set up early or sit there reading a new book or something. But today he could sense there was something secretive about the older man. And he didn't like it one bit. But being obedient, he remained in the hall and sulked there for a good twenty minutes until the other students began to arrive.

            Of course that bushy haired Mudblood was first to arrive, closely followed by Pansy. Both of them had their noses in books and were muttering to themselves. They ignored Draco and continued in to the Potions room. Granger was kicked out first, and then Pansy was carefully ushered out as well, and Snape closed the door. Next to arrive were Crabbe and Goyle who looked a little lost without Draco, and then Thomas and Finnegan with their heads together talking about something. After two more minutes, Millie, Blaise, and that shy little mouse of a Slytherin came up, each pretending they weren't with the others. They were soon followed by that Indian Gryffindor girl and the blonde who were discussing something called nail polish. Last of all came Potter, Longbottom, and Weasley- the latter looking rather ill.

            Finally, Snape opened the door and let all of them inside. Draco, of course, made sure he was first to his seat, first seated, first with his quill and parchment out. This usually earned him an admiring glance from Snape, but today the dark haired teacher skimmed over his favorite student with the same look he gave everyone else. Draco, for once, shivered.

            From across the room came the sound of a small explosion. Everyone sat up straighter, straining to see where the sneeze had come from. Suddenly, Pansy shrieked, "Professor Snape! Your HAIR!"

            All heads snapped around.

            Snape's hair was now at least ten feet long. It dragged out behind him on the floor and curled around bags, shoes, and table legs. It was still the same midnight black that it had always been, but the strange thing was that it was extremely clean- even going so far as to say that it smelled like lavender.

            Some of the students (mostly Gryffindors) began to laugh out loud. Others (mostly Slytherins) looked angrily around for the perpetrator. Only one- a certain red faced, red haired boy- looked totally floored and completely unhappy.

            "Mr. Weasley?" Snape and his newly grown hair stopped in front of the Weasel's desk. "Do you have something you would like to explain to the class?"

            "I have a cold…" the boy said miserably.

            "I can see." The dark haired Potions teacher glared at him angrily. "Take your test and then immediately go to bed. Do NOT wander anywhere around Hogwarts. I will attend you." And, in quite a bit of a huff, he returned to his desk. Then, turning his glare out to the class, he magically passed out the papers and sat down to write something.

            Draco was surprised. Usually, the professor would hand out the papers with his own fingers, as he was not fond of charm work. And he was never this caring with ill students. Even if the idiot Gryffindor had a Wizards' cold, it didn't mean he had to have a teacher baby-sit him. The blond shook his head and turned to his test.

            During the length of the exam, there were several more explosive sneezes from the Weasel's direction, but no one looked up- fearing the Wrath of Snape. However, the last sneeze really caught everyone's attention. This was because, directly after the sneeze, each student found that they had been glued to their seat. It took some muc- hated charms from the professor to get everything back to normal. After that, he grabbed Weasley's arm and dragged him out of the room.

            Draco looked up, a bit interested to see what Potter would do, and was again struck with the same feeling he had had during breakfast. Potter, however, was doing nothing out of the ordinary. He had finished the test and was now sitting quietly with his hands folded in his lap. Draco frowned.

            When Snape came back, the class was over, and the students handed their tests in, expecting to be let out of the room immediately. But he disappointed them by calling them to a halt. "I will have none of you going near the Gryffindor sixth year boys' dormitories." This earned him despairing looks from all the Gryffindor sixth year boys. "If you need your things, please talk to Professor McGonagall. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy- you need to report to Professor Dumbledore at once. I will come with you to get you inside the office." He smiled thinly. "And, everyone, don't forget to study over the break. You all have a quiz upon returning."

            Across the sea of disgruntled faces, Draco caught Potter's eye.

To be continued…