Disclaimer: I don't own HP- WaAH!

A/N: Sorry I've been MIA. My computer caught a nasty cold- otherwise known as a lovely computer virus…had me down and out for about 4 days- I lost just about everything- including my notes for the next chapter- Ekk! But now I'm back- hope you all will understand.

Draco looked at the walls of his rooms. It was hard to believe that his life had come down to these four walls. He honestly didn't know what to do. He finally "had" Hermione, not that it did him any good. If only things hadn't turned out the way they had. Now, just because she was connected to him in some small way, her life was in danger.

Draco walked to his trunk and dug to the very bottom, pulling out an object that he preferred not to touch. It had been in his family for generations, always wrapped in the same old piece of black deerskin, always felt cold and wrong to the touch. He could still remember the day that his father presented him with the loathsome thing. It had been only three years ago, long enough ago that he still worshipped his father.

At 13, his father still wasn't doing the extreme violence in front of him; he supposed that his father wanted his son to worship him as long as possible. It really hadn't been until Voldemort had truly come back into the picture that Draco's father had become his most violent. It had been on June 4th, his thirteenth birthday that his father had given him the damn thing.

On the morning of his birthday, Draco had woken to having a house elf standing over him, as usual, with a steaming cup of tea. He took the tea, carefully bringing it to his lips- allowing his breath to gently cool it, but not stifle the scent. A Malfoy had to know how to do everything properly, and tea was of no exception. According to Lucius, if he mastered the art of drinking tea the proper English way, then he could move on to the art of learning to properly enjoy wine.

After finishing his tea, he got out of bed, undressing for his morning bath, leaving a trail of clothes in his wake that the house elf dutifully picked up behind him. Once Pinky added his favorite scent to his bath water, Draco carefully stepped into the hot water. After scrubbing himself, Draco stepped out of the bath, allowed the elf to dry him with an Egyptian cotton towel, and padded back to his room to decide on the day's proper wardrobe considerations.

He knew that he had to look presentable; the afternoon's party dictated that. Carefully, he chose a set of black robes that he knew would meet his father's approval. Once dressed, he made his way down to the dining room for breakfast. Anxiously, he had waited for this morning's breakfast. He was always presented something special during breakfast, something especially from his father.

Lucius smiled as his son entered the room, walking carefully with elegance, like a proper Malfoy. He could hardly stay his pride from showing on his face.

"Ah, Draco. I was wondering how much longer you would keep your mother and me waiting?"

Draco smiled dutifully. "I apologize, father. I took a bit longer, wanting to ensure to live up to the Malfoy name."

Lucius beamed at his son. "Follow me, Draco. For this, breakfast can wait."

Draco anxiously followed his father out of the dining room, past the great entrance, and into his father's personal study.

Draco watched his father pull a flat package from his desk.

"Draco, I think it is time that I can trust you with something very precious to the Malfoy family. Legend has it that it may have been created by Slytherin himself, though unfortunately we cannot validate it. It was given to my by my father on my thirteenth birthday, and in our family, it is seen as a rite of passage."

Draco looked at his father in awe and carefully grasped the package. It was heavy, and hard. Unforgiving. He delicately unwrapped the package and looked at the strange leather covered, flat object he held in his hands. He looked up at his father questioningly.

"Go on, Draco. It will not bite."

Draco unwrapped the object from the deerskin covering. It was rectangular with ancient script inscribed on its surface.

"What is it, father?" He asked cautiously.

Lucius smiled. "It has been bathed with the blood of many ancestors. It helps up navigate the world of spirits, and with a few useful incantations, we can bring them to our plane. You must be sly with the spirits, Draco. They can lie, but once they recognize you, they will be very useful."

Later, he had learned that the muggles used a similar contraption, but it was rather unstable. While the board unnerved him, Draco had yet to not find the answers he looked for from it. And after a few mishaps, he learned to keep evil spirits from coming into the plane without asking him.

Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered keeping the thing around, but now, he was thankful for the foresight.

He carefully waved his wand over the board, the script seemed to glow. He sighed and closed his eyes as he spoke.

"Who is it that wishes to contact me?"

After waiting for a few moments, Draco opened his eyes; five characters glowed at individual durations. Ê-à-ă-û-ñ… Whoever wanted him was named Caius.

"What does Caius want?"

The board seemed to pause as if thinking.

"He wishes to use you for his own means."

Draco thought for a moment.

"How can I contact him?"

Again, the board seemed to pause. "To whom do you think you are speaking?"

Severus scratched at the side of his head. Who would ever have imagined that teaching would become such a stressful position? He sat down in a chair by the fire in his rooms. Something had to be done. Everything pointed to the man at Arthnou.

Dumbledore had said to relax, but the old wizard always seemed to say that right before everything blew out of proportion. Severus supposed that it was Dumbledore's blasted optimistic views, but sometimes, he had to wonder if the old wizard wasn't simply being facetious.

The fact remained that the students, once again, were not safe.

Hermione threw herself down into her favorite chair in the Gryffindor common room. Although danger was afoot, she couldn't help but feel happy. Now if she could only do something about Harry.

She knew that he was depressed, but she really didn't know how to help. If it hadn't been for Harry, she probably would have lost her mind ages ago. And now that she felt happy, it somehow made her feel a bit guilty that Harry had no one. Maybe Ginny could help.

She jumped up from her chair and ran back out of Gryffindor house, irritating the Fat Lady as she went.

"I don't know why you kids can never decide what you are doing! In and out, in and out, all day long!"

Hermione could not help but chuckle. "I'm sorry." She said to the portrait. "But isn't it a part of your job? If you are so unhappy, perhaps you should ask to change your position?"

The Fat Lady took that as an affront. "Well, I never!" And turned her back on Hermione.

Hermione chose to ignore the portrait and continued on to her destination. Ginny had to be around somewhere. Just as she turned the corner her head hit warm chest.

"Hermione, you know, this is starting to become a habit."

Hermione looked up to see the smiling face of Draco beaming down at her.

"You know, Draco. It is only you who seems to have this problem." She laughed.

Draco grabbed her head in his hands and he kissed her gently on the mouth, lovingly, almost as if this kiss may be their last.

Hermione found herself lost in his touch, and it took her a moment to realize when the kiss was finished.

"Hermione?" Draco asked, concerned.

"Yes…" She mumbled.

"Hermione!"

She suddenly woke from her daze. "What, Draco?"

"Follow me, we need to talk."

"About what?"

Draco sighed in annoyance. "Hermione. Will you just follow me for a change? Sometimes you are completely pigheaded."

"Oh, thank you, Draco Malfoy." Hermione jibbed.

"Hermione, I have something important to discuss. Stop jumping to conclusions and follow me please. This conversation does not need to happen in the hall."

Before she could mutter another word, Draco kissed her quickly and dragged her down the hall.