"Oh my!" Headmistress McGonagall gasped as she glanced into the office; Her hand went straight to her mouth as she stepped through the doorway. When Draco said his office had been vandalized, she had imagined a simple disarray. But this, this was far worse than she had imagined.

The words written across the walls caught her attention immediately. "Do you have any idea who could have done this, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head and massaged his temples. "No."

"Perhaps it was a student?" she suggested worriedly. "Or even Peeves... You know how destructive he can be. Something might have set him off..."

"Whoever it was, I doubt it was a harmless prank, Minerva. And unless Peeves has access to fresh blood, I doubt he could have written that," he said, gesturing to the crude messages on the wall.

McGonagall took a few steps into the office to observe the scarlet words. After a moment, she turned back to meet Draco's gaze.

"Dragon's blood?" she asked, a flicker of hope in her eyes.

Draco's jaw hardened as he slowly shook his head.

"Are you quite certain?" McGonagall asked.

He nodded. "I don't know that it's human, but it's definitely not dragon's blood."

"Very well," McGonagall said, taking a deep breath and regaining her composure. "Let's get this cleaned up, Mr. Malfoy."

With a wave of her wand, the shards of glass that littered the floor began to wiggle to life. Draco stepped back cautiously as they soared into the air, flying toward their original homes, and began to piece themselves back together. Draco watched with amazement as the glass shelves became whole once more, and the objects that had once occupied their space returned to their original positions.

Draco had never seen a reason to learn household spells, such as those for cleaning and cooking, because all of the housework at the manor was taken care of by their house elves. Aside from the few housekeeping spells he had learned in charms class, Draco was all but helpless when it came to cleaning. He could repair something that was broken, and clean a simple spill, but as he watched McGonagall quickly and easily return everything in the office to its original state, he felt like a helpless child. He should have been the one cleaning his office, not the Headmistress.

He frowned at this conclusion, and made a mental note to visit the library later. If there was one thing he hated, it was being outdone. He would learn every housekeeping spell in existence if it meant he would never have to ask for help again.

When the furniture of the office was repaired and returned to its original place, McGonagall turned her attention to the writing on the walls. Her eyes swept across the messages, as though searching for some sort of clue. When she found nothing of significance, she pointed her wand at the wall.

"Scourgify," she said.

Nothing happened.

Headmistress McGonagall frowned unpleasantly, and she tried again.

"Evanesco. Tergeo."

To her dismay, the blood remained perfectly visible on the walls. After several minutes of failed attempts, Headmistress McGonagall turned to apologize to Draco.

"It's fine, Minerva," Draco said. "You've done more than enough by cleaning up the rest of the mess."

Draco looked around the office. It was perfectly spotless and perfectly arranged, aside from the blood writing that blared at him like some kind of God awful beacon. He forced a smile.

"I shall send Professor Flitwick down here immediately to see if he can remove it for you," Headmistress McGonagall said as she headed toward the door.

"Thank you," Draco said, bowing his head.

When the Headmistress had disappeared from his office, Draco turned to face the wall. Why the hell wouldn't the blood come off?

"Scourgify," he said, pointing his wand at the writing.

Nothing happened. Then again, he hadn't expected it to. He had watched McGonagall try time and time again to clean the wall. Why should the spell work any differently for him? He wanted to head off to find Peeves, but he figured he had better wait for Professor Flitwick. At least, if Flitwick managed to clean the blood off the wall, Draco would learn a valuable spell in the process.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Good day, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Flitwick announced as he scurried into the room. "Oh dear, I see you have quite the problem here."

"Good day, Professor," Draco returned the greeting.

He watched as the tiny man, whose full height hardly reached Draco's waist, made his way across the room to examine the writing. Trying not to laugh as Flitwick climbed onto the chair behind his desk, Draco took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"The Headmistress tells me that she was just down here, and that the blood does not come off with any standards cleaning spells," Professor Flitwick chirped, mainly to himself.

"That is correct, sir," Draco replied.

"There does seem to be something peculiar going on," Flitwick continued.

He raised his wand and pointed it at the wall. Draco did not hear the incantation used, but he did notice that the blood was unfazed by it. Professor Flitwick frowned and he ran his stubby fingers delicately over the wall.

"Peculiar, indeed," he mumbled.

After trying several different spells, all of which failed to cleanse the wall of the writing, Professor Flitwick hopped down off the chair and tucked his wand back into his robes.

"It may have a permanent sticking charm placed on it, in which case, I'm afraid, there is nothing I can do," he said, feeling defeated. "The only other option is that the magic used here is not that of a wizard."

Draco furrowed his brow. "What do you mean 'not of a wizard'?"

"I mean, Mr. Malfoy, that another magical being could be responsible for this, in which case my spells would be made useless against it," Professor Flitwick explained. "I would try to find out who it was that wrote this, and then maybe you will find out how to remove it... if it can be removed."

With nothing more to say on the matter, Professor Flitwick excused himself from Draco's office and left the dungeons. Draco sighed and pulled his office door closed behind him; He now had to go find a particularly annoying poltergeist who may or may not have any useful information as to who vandalized his office. And even if Peeves did know who did it, it wasn't likely that he would tell.

...x...x...x...

"Are you feeling better, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

Hermione nodded halfheartedly. She was leaning against the wall, gazing out the window over the grounds. Ginny had brought her back to the Gryffindor Common Room after she refused to return to her bedchamber. She felt exposed in her bedchamber. She felt safe here.

Seeing the words written on the walls in Draco's office had changed her way of thinking. It was no longer a game they were playing, worrying if other people would accept their relationship or not. This was something much more serious. Someone had threatened her life; They wanted her dead.

"That doesn't seem very convincing," Ginny said, crossing the common room to stand at her friend's side.

Hermione met her gaze for a brief moment. "You saw what it said."

Ginny frowned. "Yes, I did."

"What if they're still in the castle?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"You're safe here."

"But not anywhere else," Hermione said.

Ginny shook her head. "For all we know, it was a student, Hermione. You can't let this get to you."

"You wouldn't understand," Hermione said softly. "It didn't say your name. They want me dead."

"Maybe you don't remember my first year," Ginny began, "but I wrote a message similar to that myself and ended up in the Chamber of Secrets. Someone wanted me dead, too."

Hermione forced a smile. What Ginny said was true, and it was slightly comforting to know that she wasn't the first to receive a death threat.

"Besides, someone wanted Harry dead for seventeen years, and he turned out fine," Ginny said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

This made Hermione smile in earnest. "I guess so," she chuckled. "But that still doesn't change the fact that whoever wrote that could still be in the castle."

Ginny sighed. "There's no way of knowing who did it, but if you want we can check the Marauder's Map to see if anyone who shouldn't be here is in the castle."

"Honestly, that would make me feel so much better," Hermione said.

A minute later the two girls were sitting comfortably on the couch, the Marauder's Map spread across their laps. They were studying the dots moving throughout the corridors, checking and double checking all the names. After their third passover of the map, they came to the conclusion that no one in the castle appeared out of place.

"Feel better?" Ginny asked.

Hermione nodded. "Slightly. Either they already left, or someone in the castle wants me dead."

...x...x...x...

Draco found Peeves hiding in a suit of armor on the fifth floor. After searching for nearly an hour, he had resorted to calling the Poltergeist's name throughout the corridors, hoping that he would show himself.

"Peeves!" Draco hollered once more, his voice reverberating off the stone walls.

Just then, Peeves the Poltergeist burst forth from the suit of armor at his right cackling loudly. Draco felt his heart jump in his chest from the surprise and he watched as the poltergeist cartwheeled across the corridor. He landed, hanging upside down in the air in front of Draco.

"Why it's Mr. Malfoy, come to pay Peevsie a visit," the poltergeist cackled loudly.

"I have to ask you something," Draco said dryly.

"Wood and glass and broken shelves, someone has been a very bad elf," Peeves sang as he flipped right-side up.

Draco ignored him.

"Do you know who destroyed my office?"

"Words in blood, sound the bells, what a naughty, naughty house elf."

Draco opened his mouth, about to ask Peeves to stop his singing, when the meaning of his words dawned on him.

"Are you saying a house elf did it?" Draco asked, baffled.

Peeves grinned more widely than Draco would have imagined possible. "Mr. Malfoy is quite smart; Smarter than Potty Wee Potter."

"Peeves, whose house elf was it?"

"Dippy, Doppy, Hippy, Hoppy," Peeves sang as he began to circle Draco. He pretended that he was riding an invisible broom, hands stretched out in front of him clutching the invisible handle. "Inny, Minny, Ooey, Gooey."

Draco rolled his eyes. He had known it would be difficult to get a straight answer out of Peeves. Well, if asking politely didn't work...

"Peeves, do you want me to go get the Bloody Baron? After all, he is Slytherin's house ghost, and I doubt he would hesitate to..."

Peeves screeched to a halt on his imaginary broom and frowned.

"Mr. Malfoy is no fun, no fun at all. He doesn't want to play games with Peevsie Weevsie," Peeves pouted.

"PEEVES!" Draco growled. "Whose house elf was it?"

"She came, she played, before she went... The house elf named Tilly is the one they sent."

Draco frowned. "You're mistaken."

Peeve's eyes grew to be the size of saucers. "Mr. Malfoy asks for Peeves help, and then does not want his question answered."

"Peeves, Tilly is the Malfoy's house elf."

The wide smile returned to Peeves face. "Exactly."

Without another words, Peeves blew a loud raspberry in Draco's face and zoomed off down the hall.

Draco stood in the middle of the corridor, staring blankly ahead as the reality of the situation sank in. His initial instinct had been correct in assuming that Lucius Malfoy was behind this; He had sent Tilly to the castle to destroy his office and convey a message: if Draco did not end his relationship with the muggleborn, then Lucius would take matters into his own hands.