A/N: I own nothing, sadly :'(

Waahhhh, so sorry guys, I've had a bit of a mad week, & for some reason found this chapter SO hard to write, but we got there in the end!

See if you can catch the little easter egg relating to the source material... it's hidden somewhere in the chapter!

Part of this chapter is inspired by my Great-Grandfather's love letters to my Great-Grandmother during WWI, when he was stuck in the trenches and she was back home looking after their two babies (they went on to have 6 more!). Anyway, enough of my rambling...

Hope you enjoy! Please read/review xxx

Draco stared solemnly at the grim-faced professor, sat across from him behind the large oak desk. The silence in the air was tense, heavy, as Draco waited for his godfather to speak with the anticipation of a criminal being led to the gallows. His mind flashed back to the scene that had occurred just minutes before.

"Miss Granger, get dressed and go back to your common room." Snape had barked, his dark eyes flicking over them. Draco naked as the day he was born; trying to shield Hermione with his body, as she sat, blanched white in shock and clutching his shirt over herself.

"Draco, I expect to see you in my office immediately. If you're both not out of this room in 5 minutes, I'll see to it personally that you're both expelled." He had finished, icily, before sweeping from the room, his black cloak billowing behind him. They grabbed at their clothes in silence, pulling the various layers on roughly. It was only when Draco glimpsed Hermione's hands shaking as she tried to do up her dress buttons that he stopped, turned and pulled her into his arms.

"It'll be alright." He reassured, stroking down her back rhythmically. "Snape's my godfather, I'll talk to him." Hermione eyed him sceptically, but relaxed into the hug, resting her head against his chest. He felt her squeeze him back, briefly, before pulling out of the embrace to finish getting ready. He had watched as she roughly pulled her stockings up, her skin glowing golden in the soft light.

Bloody Uncle Severus!

As soon as they were both ready he had grabbed her hand and rushed from the room with her as quickly as possible, only stopping at the bottom of the stairs to part.

"Meet me in the great hall before breakfast tomorrow? At 7?" Draco suggested, knowing few people would be around at the early hour.

Hermione simply nodded in reply, her brown eyes wide with anxiety. She had then leant forward and smoothed his hair out of his eyes with her soft fingers, the physical gesture calming them both.

Draco smiled, leaning into her soothing touch. She'd pulled away slowly, turned to go, when suddenly he'd pulled her back, kissing her forcefully.

"I won't let anything happen. I promise." He'd said, needing to reassure himself as much as her. She'd nodded again, bushy hair bobbing, before smiling softly back at him and turning to head back to her common room.

"You care for the Granger girl." Snape had stated, finally breaking the electric silence, and jarring Draco out of his thoughts.

Draco nodded sharply, once, in confirmation. He never could fool Uncle Sev.

His lips pursed as he stared back at his godfather's cold, dark eyes, waiting for his outburst.

It never came. Snape simply sighed, nodding in resignation.

"You always did want what you couldn't have – ever the Malfoy. I've seen this coming since your second year." Snape said, slowly. Draco eyed him silently, waiting for his godfather to finish his piece.

"I tried to discourage this, but it clearly hasn't worked. Judging by your obvious feelings and your… behaviour tonight, I presume you intend to do the right thing?"

"Hermione doesn't know it, but I wish to marry her, yes."

"Your parents will never allow it." Snape began, shaking his head.

"I have the Black trust fund and my grandfather's old property, I can provide for her without my parents help." Draco replied quietly. He had spent the last few weeks carefully planning for the future, one he now knew he wanted to share with Hermione. He'd even gone so far as to write to Gringotts and move a portion of his money into a separate account, prepared for all eventualities.

"I don't care what my parents say, I don't need their permission-" he continued passionately. Snape raised his hand, shooting Draco a quelling look.

"Tonight's… events were not the reason I asked you to come here." The hook-nosed professor began, pulling a letter out of his dark robes. Draco immediately recognised the familiar Malfoy crest, emblazoned on the wax seal. "Your father has written and asked for you to be sent home. He wants you by his side when the Dark Lord rises."

Draco gaped silently as the world crashed down around his shoulders.

"I can't- I won't go; I can't leave Hermione. I don't support-"

"Draco." Snape said, cutting him off. "I will only say this once, so listen carefully. You must go. There are forces in place working to stop the Dark Lord. He will not rise again, if I can help it." The professor said, his mouth pressed into a thin line, nostrils flared.

"Go home. Put things in order, and then when the time is right, return. The people that matter know your true allegiances, but this is the best way for you to protect Miss Granger." Snape finished, placing the letter down carefully on the desk in front of him. Draco nodded in understanding, a grim resolve pulsing through him at his godfather's words.

"I have arranged for your passage back to the manor via the Floo network. You are to leave now." Snape continued, standing up and gesturing towards the grand fireplace.

"No. I I have to tell Hermione-"

"It's not safe."

"At least let me write a letter, but she must know. I can't just leave her." Snape's expression hardened, but he nodded sharply in reluctant acquiescence, opening a desk draw and passing Draco a quill and parchment. Draco dipped the feathered quill into Snape's jade inkwell, quickly scribbling out a message, before magically sealing the letter and handing it to Snape, who tucked it into his robes.

"Please look out for her." Draco felt himself almost beg – even though Hermione should be safe at Hogwarts there was no telling what would happen, with Umbridge in control of the school and Voldemort set to return.

"I'll keep an eye on Miss Granger, I promise." Snape replied sincerely.

Together, they stepped towards the Floo.

"Be careful. Keep your Occlumency shields up constantly." Snape squeezed his godson's shoulder in an uncharacteristic gesture of support. Draco swallowed audibly as he stepped into the cold fireplace, pushing down the apprehension and letting a familiar mask of haughty disinterest slip over his features. He nodded once at his godfather in shared understanding, before calling out: "Malfoy Manor!"

The last thing he saw was Snape's own emotionless mask drop, half a second too soon; the imagine of his godfather's worried expression, tinted sickly green by the rising flames, seared itself into Draco's thoughts as he spun away.

(x) (x) (x)

"Draco, darling!" He heard his mother cry as he stepped out of the marble fireplace and into their expansive parlour, minutes later. Narcissa had been seated stiffly on one of the velvet setees placed around the fire, but had leapt up anxiously as soon as the green flames had risen.

"Not now, Mopsy." Draco said, dismissing the elf that had scurried over, brush in hand, to wipe the soot off his expensive robes. He strode towards his mother, stopping in front of her and allowing her to embrace him tightly, noting with dismay that she felt much frailer in his arms than she had at Christmas. The pale green silk of her voluminous evening gown seemed to hang off her frame, and her face looked gaunt with worry.

"What's going on? Why have I been brought home?" He pulled away sharply, staring down at her.

"Your father is supping in the dining room with some colleagues." Her bony hand squeezed his arm in warning. "He will explain everything when he comes through."

He watched her pale blue eyes flit round the room, then glance back at him, her face filled with caution and worry. It was clear the manor was no longer safe to talk in. He nodded back at her in understanding, and her face immediately broke into a familiar relaxed smile. It was one he'd seen brought out often at tedious social occasions – she was a master at being the carefree, pureblood wife.

"You must be tired darling; the hour is rather late." She remarked lightly, glancing at the clock and leading Draco over to the setee, pressing him into the seat before settling herself down, arranging her embroidered ball gown delicately to allow herself to sit.

"Yes, I am, quite." It had been a rather eventful day, and Draco was now feeling it's effects sharply. He couldn't quite believe that an hour previously he'd been wrapped in Hermione's arms. The thought of leaving her, so suddenly and without a proper goodbye, twisted round in his gut. He hoped, prayed, that his rushed letter would be enough.

Narcissa clicked her fingers, stirring him from his thoughts, and the floppy-eared house elf materialised immediately out of a dark corner of the room.

"Yes miss?" She small elf squeaked, twisting her raggedy tea-towel toga in her spindly hands.

"Bring us some coffee please, strong."

"Of course, miss." Mopsy bowed, her overly-large head bobbing almost comically, before she scurried back into the shadows.

"Are you well, Mother?" Draco asked quietly, leaning forward and clasping one of Narcissa's cold hands in his own.

"As well as ever, darling." She brushed the question aside, patting their entwined hands and smiling across at him.

"Tell me dear, how is your studying going?" She continued, launching into a barrage of questions about Hogwarts and its related gossip. She paused only when Mopsy arrived, bearing a large tray piled high with goodies; the silver coffee service rattling in the elf's small hands as she placed it on the low mahogany table in front of them. The rich aroma swirled through the room as she poured them two steaming cups, proffering the cream and sugar for their perusal, before disappearing back into the shadows once more.

Draco had just brought the coffee to his lips when he heard it – steps in the hallway getting increasingly louder, then raucous laughter. He exchanged a small glance with his mother, both of them fortifying themselves for what was to come. Seconds later, the door banged open.

Lucius swaggered in, followed closely by a sniggering posse of former Death Eaters, all clad in formal black and white dinner-wear. First was Avery, then Crabbe and Goyle Sr – those lucky enough to have been acquitted of their crimes after the war. Then that snivelling rat, Pettigrew, his mouth tight in an anxious, weaselly smile. Draco watched carefully as Theodore Nott Sr. brought up the rear of the group, his hooded eyes fixing themselves immediately on Narcissa, a dangerous desire shifting in their dark depths. Draco stood up, moving subtly in front of his mother as he nodded haughtily in greeting at the assembled men.

"Father." He smiled coldly at the tall man in front of him, taking in his appearance. Lucius was perfectly turned out, as always, his trademark hair sleek and shiny, his dinner robes clearly new and expensive, but Draco saw the lines around his father's eyes that hadn't been there previously, and the throbbing tension in his strong jaw. This was evidently not a situation of his making. His father stepped forward, embracing Draco in welcome; clearly for his assembled colleagues' benefits. Lucius' arms felt rigid around him, and when he stepped back, his father's face was briefly drawn in worry. His familiar smirk slid quickly back into place as he gestured widely at the assembled men.

"Welcome home son, we're glad to have you join us."

Hermione had stood in a corner of the castle entrance hall since a quarter to 7 in the morning, desperate to see Draco, her anxiety increasing exponentially as the minutes ticked by and her blonde lover was nowhere to be seen. She'd had to give up the wait at half past eight, when Harry and Ginny arrived, full of questions as to why she was at breakfast so early. She'd mumbled something about an early revision session, and being 'still full from last night' but Harry and Ginny had swiftly shot her excuses down with blatant concern. In an effort to alleviate their worry, she'd finally conceded to go into the hall and have a bite of toast. Hopefully she'd see Draco there – maybe he'd overslept…

But none of it made sense. Draco always came to breakfast bright and early; he told her once it was so he could nab the crispiest bacon before it was all gone. But bacon aside, she knew he wouldn't keep her waiting like this, he would've told her, kept her updated somehow. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened the night before – her mind replayed the scene over and over again until the memories became twisted; Images of Snape bursting in on them, looming down over them, his dark eyes flashing, his voice snarling… She pushed these thoughts down, focused on seeing Draco later. She'd catch sight of him in the hallway, he'd give her that same old cocky smirk, and everything would all be alright. At the very least, she had double potions with him last lesson so would see him then, she kept reassuring herself.

The early morning chatter faded to a soft hum as she anxiously scanned the Slytherin table, looking for any sign of a that familiar whitish blond hair. Blaise sat in his usual spot, Theo and Draco's seats empty around him. The handsome Italian sipped his pumpkin juice absently, his own eyes fixed intently on the Gryffindor table.

"Are you alright Hermione?" Neville's soft voice stirred her from her searching.

"Fine thanks." She turned and reassured him with a forced smile. Neville's eyes flicked between her and the Slytherin table, a knowing look in their depths.

Merlin, does Neville somehow know?!

She glanced back at a now-smirking Blaise, who was tracing one long finger round the rim of his goblet, his dark eyes fixed firmly on Neville, who had begun to blush profusely. Momentarily distracted from the missing Draco situation, Hermione turned back to Neville, her amber eyes wide and shocked.

"Neville! Are you and Blaise... together?" She whispered, making sure the early morning chatter of their fellow Gryffindors muffled her words. Neville's blush increased to a deep beetroot.

"Not here!' He hissed, standing up. He haphazardly scooped his toad, Trevor, who had been slyly dipping his long tongue into Lavender's pumpkin juice, off the table and onto his shoulder, before turning and hurrying out of the great hall. Hermione scrambled to gather all her books together before quickly following him, shooting one last look at a smirking Blaise and calling out a 'studying Herbology with Nev, bye!' excuse to the rest of their curious friends. Almost as soon as she was out of the double doors, Neville yanked her into quiet alcove, casting a shaky Muffliato for good measure.

"I know about you and Draco." He blurted out, almost as a threat, shoulders tense and wand still half-raised.

"That's ok." Hermione shrugged, hoping it came across calm and placatory. Her forced nonchalance worked; Neville immediately deflated, lowering his wand and looking suddenly scared and sad.

"Please don't tell anyone." He begged, his voice rising as he continued. "My grandmother doesn't know anything. She wouldn't understand… me with a boy, and certainly not with a Slytherin."

"Of course, of course I won't!" Hermione reassured, pulling her much taller friend into a tight hug. "You were my first friend at Hogwarts, I'll love you no matter what. Just make sure Blaise takes good care of you."

"He does." Neville smiled blissfully for one quick moment. "What about Draco? He hurt you terribly before… Is it serious? Is he serious?" He stepped back, looking at down her with uncharacteristic acuity.

"Very much so." Hermione nodded, thinking of her blond lover's earnest declarations the night before. "What about you and Blaise?"

"Yes, I-I think so." Neville beamed. Hermione smiled back, reaching out and squeezing Neville's large hand. They sighed in unison; Neville looked as relieved as Hermione felt. She couldn't believe that she had found another Gryffindor that not only understood, but was in the same position. She had a sudden thought – maybe Neville could help?

"Neville, have you seen Draco this morning? Or has Blaise mentioned him?" She blurted out, her panic abating slightly at finally being able to tell someone about what was going on. Keeping everything bottled up was driving her utterly mad.

"Why, did something happen?" He replied, his brunet brows knitting together in concern.

"Professor Snape walked in on us… together, in the Astronomy tower last night. He dragged Draco off to his office and I haven't seen him since." She chewed her bottom lip anxiously, her childhood nervous tic returning in full force. Neville grimaced, no doubt thinking of the atrocity of having a teacher burst in on such a forbidden activity.

"Hmmm… You're probably better off with it being Snape than anyone else." He remarked, thoughtfully. Hermione shook her head, but Neville continued.

"Draco is the only student Snape likes. He won't have done anything except give him a stern telling off, probably."

"I suppose, Snape is his godfather… but Draco never misses breakfast and he always manages to get some kind of note to me, he'd never just dis-" The shrill ringing of the bell interrupted her, signalling the start of morning classes. The pair jumped apart as students of all houses began to stream out of the great hall.

"I've got to go to Herbology, but I'll ask Blaise if he knows anything." Neville said, nodding to her in understanding as he began to move away, joining the flow of people moving towards the front doors of the castle. "Don't worry! We'll find him." He turned back and called, his earnest smile doing little to calm the churning worry in her stomach.

"Hermione?" She turned round at the sound of Harry's voice; he was strolling out from the great hall to meet her, with a laughing Lavender and Ron following shortly behind. "What did Neville want?"

"Oh, just a chat about the Herbology NEWT. Not that he needs it!" Hermione attempted a casual laugh.

"But what was he saying about 'We'll find him', who's him?"

"Err- Crookshanks!" Hermione scrambled to cover her lie. "I said I hadn't seen Crookshanks in a while and was worried about him."

"But I saw Crookshanks in the common room this morning, in his usual cushion next to the fireplace." Harry narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced by her blustering. This was the second time he'd caught her in the hallway, blatantly distracted and anxious. She knew Harry thought she was acting strangely, but she just couldn't stop.

"Oh, um, was he? I didn't see him." Hermione gave what she hoped was a relieved smile.

"Hermione… are you-" Harry began again, cautiously, as she madly racked her brains for a more-believable lie. Mercifully, Ron chose the perfect moment to interrupt.

"You two coming? You know what Flitwick does to latecomers, and for once I'd like to do without being forced to dance. I think Parvati broke my toe in our waltz last week." He grinned ruefully. Lavender laughed and playfully slapped her ginger beau's arm in mock-chastisement as they set off up the stairs.

"Yes, we'd better go." Hermione capitalised on the moment, moving past Harry to follow the couple ahead. Harry quietly agreed, but she could feel his eyes on her back as he followed her up the stairs to Charms.

Thankfully, Harry seemed to forget his suspicion after a vigorous bout of solo can-can, having fallen foul of the Charms latecomer's rule. His embarrassment was enthusiastically enforced by a delighted Flitwick, who clapped along excitedly from atop his towering pile of books, being much the fan of the modern French dance. By the time Harry finally sat down, sweaty and red in the face, he was laughing and chatting with her as usual, the dance having taken his mind off their previous conversation. This left her her totally free to panic internally about Draco – she could only hope Neville had heard something from Blaise.

The rest of the day ticked by in an anxious daze. She mucked up the spell in charms, not getting the hand motion correct (much to Ron's enjoyment), and she even stuttered over her answers to McGonagall's questions in Transfiguration. By the time she reached the shared Gryffindor/Slytherin potions lesson at the end of the day she was at her wit's end, not having seen or heard even a whisper of her blond lover, and to cap it all off, having to see Snape was as awful as she could've imagined.

"Miss Granger." He'd almost snickered as she walked in, and she'd had to make do with meekly whispering a 'Good afternoon Professor Snape' while determinedly looking at the floor. She felt his dark eyes linger on her scornfully as she scanned the room nervously for Draco, her anxiety increasing exponentially as the lesson started and there was still no sign of his familiar blond head. The lesson moved at an excruciating pace; every time the door opened or a desk creaked she whipped round to see if it was Draco strolling in (it never was), and by the end of the lesson Harry again had that suspicious look in his eye. Even worse, Snape had seemingly delighted in her predicament, frequently calling attention to her – Miss Granger, eyes on the board please! – and had appeared almost overjoyed when her Confusing Concoction was not up to it's usual perfect standard. By the end of the lesson, she felt like her brain was about to explode, fit to bursting by the swirling thoughts of Draco, Harry and Snape. She was beyond relieved when the bell rang and she could go and find Neville, eagerly hoping he'd heard something from Blaise. She was haphazardly shoving her potions making kit into her already bursting satchel when a shadow fell over the desk, dashing her hopes of an early getaway.

"Miss Granger, I'd like a word please." Snape turned heel and walked back to his desk. Hermione glanced at a confused Harry, who nodded his head towards the door in unspoken communication – he'd wait outside til she was done. She finished packing her bag as the last few students trickled out, and by the time she had walked over to stand in front of Snape's expansive desk, the room was empty.

"Where's Draco?" She blurted out, defiantly, sick of waiting and worrying. She braced herself for a snide retort, which never came. Instead, to her astonishment, Snape simply sighed.

"Sit down please, Miss Granger." He motioned to the straight-backed chair facing the desk. As she slowly took a seat, she heard the classroom door click locked behind her in a silent Colloportus charm. With another wave of his wand, he cast what she could only guess to be a silencing spell, blocking Harry, or anyone else, from hearing what he was about to say. Silence fell once more as he slowly opened a desk drawer, and the quiet shuffling of paper was the only noise echoing in the dungeon room.

"Where's-" She began again, impatient, before being swiftly cut off by a disgruntled Snape.

"I heard you the first time Miss Granger." Snape sniffed, raising his dark brows at her disdainfully. She gritted her teeth, biting back a retort as he continued:

"Draco has been called home."

"What? Why?" She cut in, her voice coming out high in panic. "Do they know?"

The thought of his parents punishing him for their romance terrified her.

"They don't know about your… connection, yet." Hermione felt herself visibly relax at his words, realising she'd been holding her breath in tension.

"I need not remind you these are dangerous times, Miss Granger." Snape remarked, watching her carefully. He paused, as if to assess her. "A small group of Death Eaters currently holding court at Malfoy Manor intend to resurrect the Dark Lord within the coming days and weeks. Draco has been called home to serve him." Hermione blanched, hearing her heart beat loudly in her ears as she gripped the edges of the chair to try and steady herself.

"As I'm sure you know, the Order are working hard to prevent this. Currently the Death Eaters have no idea that the Order are aware of their plans." He pressed on, and she realised he was a much bigger part of this than any of them had understood.

"But I don't understand – what does Draco have to do with this?" Hermione questioned feebly, the sick realisation beginning to dawn on her even as the words fell from her mouth.

"If I insisted Draco stayed at the school, missing the Dark Lord's resurrection and thereby out of harms way when the Order clash with the Death Eaters, it would expose me as a traitor to their cause. I – and by extension, Draco – must appear to be loyal followers of Lord Voldemort." Snape pushed his hair out of his eyes, looking suddenly very tired. "The Dark Lord will not rise, but in order to keep up this façade, Draco must stay at the manor and feign allegiance. He will return when the time is right." Hermione nodded mutely along to what the potions professor was saying – the logic was undeniable, even if the thought made her sick with worry.

"How will he be able to leave? They are still his parents, and the manor is still his home, regardless of allegiance or following." Hermione mused aloud.

"I think, perhaps he has found something he cares about more than his parents or the manor." Snape remarked pointedly. The thought made her smile slightly, as Snape continued.

"Draco asked me to give you this." He pulled out a folded piece of parchment from the desk drawer, and slid it across the table towards her. She took it, mutely, clutching it close with trembling fingers. "I would suggest reading it in the privacy of your dormitory, for secrecy's sake." He unlocked the door with a scarcely-audible click, and motioned for her to leave. Hermione tucked the crumpled note into her dress, concealing it under her corset, wanting to physically feel it, safe by her skin. She got up on shaky legs, turning away from the desk and the man sitting behind it. She'd almost reached the heavy, wooden door when Snape spoke:

"Be careful, Miss Granger." He whispered, in a voice so quiet and soft she half-doubted he had spoken at all. The unexpected words broke something in her, as if the dark part of her holding all the anger and fear had cracked open, the putrid emotions spilling out and overflowing at a rate she couldn't control. She wrenched open the heavy door and dashed out, the tears already sliding down her cheeks. She blindly registered Harry leaning against the opposite wall, but stumbled past, ignoring his cry of 'Hermione!'. She needed to get away before Harry got to her; she could see it in her mind's eye: his green eyes kind and gentle, her best friend pulling her into his arms as she broke down and told him everything… and then he would never look at her that way again. She raced away up the stairs, pushing sobbing panic down, down, down, until she she could reach the privacy of her small four-poster. Mercifully, the hallways and staircases were almost empty, everyone was outside enjoying the spring sunshine, and all she encountered was a few odd stares as she ran through the hallways. Having finally made it to the top of Gryffindor tower she tried to compose herself; wanting to alleviate any gossip from curious housemates she messily wiped her eyes and sniffed, before turning to face the Fat Lady.

"Vernum Evigilationem." She wheezed out the password to the curious woman, who was leaning exaggeratedly forward to watch Hermione cry. Having hastily rearranged herself on the chair, the Fat Lady – to her credit – simply raised her eyebrows and wordlessly swung forward to let Hermione through. The pink-clad portrait was sure to have told the entirety of Gryffindor house about a sobbing Hermione by that evening, but she would worry about that later. She hurried through the empty common room and up the stairs; the soles of her boots clicking on the exposed flagsontes. She reached her circular room at last, crossing the room in a few fast strides she hastily shed her school robes and moved to sit on the bed, tucking her still-booted feet under her. She yanked the curtains closed and Muffliato'dthe small space quickly, before pulling the warm letter out and unfurling it with trembling fingers, scanning the words quickly with tear-filled eyes.

"My love, Hermione-

I'm so sorry I couldn't meet with you this morning – Snape will hopefully have explained what has happened, and why I am no longer with you at Hogwarts. Words cannot express how aggrieved I am to have to go and leave you alone, and just as we have discovered each other again. These last few weeks have been the most perfect in my life, and I will treasure them always. I love you – keep yourself safe. I will be back with you as soon as I can.

Yours, forever,

D.M."

She pressed her lips together to stop the sobs coming, tracing his familiar writing with the tip of a finger. Even in his rushed state, his script was neat, uniform, not an inkblot or smudge in sight.

If I had written this letter it would be a scrappy mess… only Draco can still be neat when stuck in a nightmare…

The rogue thought made her burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all, and that was it, the emotions finally burst forth. The giggles quickly developed a slightly hysterical edge, and as the sobs started the rational part of Hermione's brain was glad she had silenced the curtained bed. She sat, cross legged, letter clutched open in her hands, letting herself cry and cry. Her thoughts swirled and jumbled together; she was so scared of what might happen to him if they found out, if he let his cover slip even an inch.

Draco in love with a mudblood… stuck among the Death Eaters… allied with a madman…

Suddenly, as if enchanted, she was so very tired. Oh so achingly exhausted, as if the crushing worry had finally pressed a button in her brain, and it was shutting itself down. She slowly curled up, pulling the blankets over herself, tucking her legs in tight and wrapping her arms up close to her chest, the letter still grasped in one tight fist. Absent-mindedly, she brought the crumpled parchment up to her nose – searching for that familiar, comforting smell.

Parchment… books… cleanliness… but something else there too - Sandalwood, the earth… that unique exacting fragrance… Draco always did smell so good…

She was lulled into a restless sleep, slipping between worlds in a state of not-quite wakefulness, only finally dropping off at the memory of Draco's strong arms wrapped around her.

A rhythmic tap-tap-tap woke her from her fitful sleep. She was so bone tired, it felt as if she'd not slept at all, but must've been at least an hour. It took what felt like an insurmountable effort to even sit up, but once Hermione was up she found it easier to keep going; pushing the blankets off herself, opening the bed curtains and placing her booted feet on the stone floor. She crossed to the window slowly, cautious as to what this new surprise might be.

Tap, Tap, Tap…

Her heart soared as she pulled the curtains back, catching sight of a familiar bird in the window – Draco's eagle owl knocked its sharp beak against the glass, eager to be let in. She hastily undid the latch, letting the magnificent bird swoop in; it circled the room before landing back on the stone sill and proffering its leg for her to take the scroll tied there. The owl eyed her almost scornfully as she fumbled to undo the small fastenings, her fingers unresponsive after her nap. She carefully unfurled the note as soon as it was loose, delighted to see the page covered in rows and rows of familiar script:

"My own Hermione,

I've managed to write; a feat I wasn't sure I'd be able to undertake. It is safe to talk, but all communication must be done through Anax-"

At this, the majestic eagle owl hooted, as if sensing his mention in Draco's letter. Hermione smiled briefly, her eyes eagerly devouring her lover's neat words.

"-If I stop communicating, please do not worry yourself, I can only write sporadically as not to arouse suspicion. I have made Snape promise to keep you updated of anything I cannot write.

I'm sorry my last note to you was such a rush, and for you this morning – you must have felt terribly panicked at my disappearance. I'm back at the manor, but it's not the home I know and love anymore. My mother is ill with worry, and I think my father may finally be losing what little is left of his sanity, although he is nothing compared to the 'guests' he is entertaining. Despite this, I am fine here, for the moment, so I hope you are not too worried. I am biding my time and thinking of what we shall do when we are together again.

I found a ribbon of yours in my pocket (in bloody Gryffindor colours!), it must've been from our last night together. I'll tie it back in your hair the next night we are together, but for now it joins the first note you sent me – hidden safe under my pillow. I've transfigured them to look like pictures of the Slytherin Quidditch team, but Merlin hopes I still dream of you and not them though!

Tell me the gossip of the school – Umbridge's latest decree, the most recent scandal, anything. I'll even listen to the tedium of Potty and Weaselbee's antics, if I can read it in your hand and know you are thinking of me. In some ways, perhaps I am better here than at a Hogwarts run by Umbridge (that sullen toad!), although you know I would put up with a thousand sullen toads to be with you, my love.

I must go, but I eagerly await your reply.

I love you.

Yours,

D.M.

P/S: Could you let Theo and Blaise know where I am? I am sure my godfather's communication will not extend to include them, though they must be wondering at my absence."

She beamed down at the letter – it was so expressive and emotive she could almost hear Draco speak the words written in front of her, particularly the part about Umbridge, and his teasing of Harry and Ron.

Bloody Malfoy, I'll have to tell him off for that!

Reading his note had given her a renewed sense of vigour; she'd faced adversity before and could face it again, and come out stronger each time. In her years at Hogwarts she'd helped Harry defeat Voldemort twice, and had part-orchestrated the escape of Azkaban's most famous prisoner – maybe she was due another adventure.

Perhaps problems like this are simply to be expected in my life…

Anax clicked his beak impatiently, stirring her from her musings and launching her into action. She pulled some clean parchment from her bedside table, and using Hogwarts: A History as a makeshift desk, she began to write – pages and pages of gossip, stories, platitudes, her love poured into each and every word.

She had just tied the letter to Anax's leg and sent him off with a handful of owl treats when the dormitory door burst open. Hermione jumped away from the window as Lavender and Pavarti walked in; she pretended to be admiring the view from the tall tower as she desperately hoped they hadn't seen Anax swoop off into the sky.

"Hermione! There you are, Harry's looking for you." Lavender simpered, pulling off her heavy school robes and hanging them on a hook by her bed.

"Oh- I wonder why?" Hermione replied innocently, trying to gauge what Harry might have said, and whether he had let slip about her crying spell after Potions.

"I wouldn't know – homework I presume?" Lavender shrugged, sweeping her golden hair off her face. Hermione smiled, sighing inwardly at her roommate's clear obliviousness. The less people that knew about the situation, the better.

"It looks like you've already done it though." The blonde witch continued, gesturing at Hermione's bed. Hermione's blood ran cold in her veins as she realised Draco's letters were still open on her bed, her parchment and quill sitting alongside.

"Oh erm, yes, just some transfiguration homework!" Hermione blustered, hoping neither of the girls would take a closer look.

"Of course, what else would it be?" Lavender rolled her eyes.

"It could be a love letter!" Parvati teased, butting in from the other side of the room.

"Don't be silly Par." Lavender laughed, unkindly, sharing a look with her best friend. Hermione crossed the room swiftly, scooping up the letters and placing them into her locked bedside draw, before turning slowly to look directly into Lavender's wide blue eyes.

"You're right Lavender, I'm not getting love letters." She replied in sickly sweet tone, beaming disconcertingly at her pretty roommate. "But then I daresay you're not either – Ron's not really the romantic type, is he? Has he told you he loves you yet, or is he saving that to get you out of your drawers?"

Parvati gasped audibly, while Lavender's jaw dropped open so far that Hermione was sure the blonde witch could've fitted one of Trelawney's crystal balls neatly into her mouth. Hermione didn't wait for a reply.

"It is hot, isn't it? I think I'll have a bath before dinner." She continued, striding decisively into the bathroom before either Lavender or Parvati could protest, shutting the door firmly behind her and leaning against it. She knew what she'd said was wrong, but she was so sick of the girls' incessant teasing, and after the very trying day she'd simply snapped.

Perhaps I should apologise…

She crossed to the bath, running the taps and adding some lavender oil to the gushing water, for serenity – Much needed after the day I've had! – before slowly stripping off, placing her clothes into a neat pile and stepping gingerly into the claw-footed tub. Sinking down into the steaming water, she let out a long sigh, closing her eyes. She tried to picture what Draco's face would look like when he opened her letter, his grey eyes sparkling and that familiar smirk playing on his lips, her thoughts of him filling her mind; letting her worries drift away in the steam…