Chapter One

The Foul Letter

            Harry read the letter once more before he threw it down in disgust. He had no doubt that it was from Malfoy, at least, he thought it was. If one had shown him the letter the year before, evil as Draco really was, he would not have believed it. Ever since the threat at the end of his fifth year, Harry had been vigilant for signs of misdoing from the Malfoy's part.

            He began to take a fresh piece of parchment out, but then thought about the consequences if he told Moody or Lupin. He didn't want anyone else knowing about the foul letter that Draco sent. He decided not to tell anyone, not even the person of whom it was concerned. Hermione. This time, he took the letter and read it slowly, watching out for signs of a clue:

You know whom this letter is from, potter. I'm not blatantly denying it. Just because someone very, very important to this outcome isn't with me at this moment…

            Lucious. Harry thought. He scanned over the first few sentences again, wondering why this was relevant to the rest of the letter he'd read before. If anything happened to Hermione, he would instantly blame Malfoy.

…does not mean it can put a damper on my plans. Your little mudblood friend is in danger. I'm not saying that I have anything to do with this; just as well, I'm not saying I don't have anything to do with it. You need to watch both yours and hers back. It's not going to be the best of years, is it, Potter?

            Harry gave a frustrated grunt. How was he supposed to understand what Malfoy was saying? Were the deatheaters going to escape Azkaban with the help of the converted Dementors? Or was Draco going to try to put Hermione in danger?

Granger isn't in a good position this year…already many irreversible things have happened to her this summer. There is not much you can do for her now. I know you will try to send her a letter…But hear this…don't be surprised if she doesn't send you one back!

            Harry immediately walked to the middle of his room and crouched toward his floor. He grasped the squeaky floorboard and pulled it up, revealing birthday presents, and several stacks of thick, parchment letters. He took one of the stacks and untied the khaki cord holding them in place. He took took the first letter and opened it. It was the last letter that Hermione had sent, a couple weeks back. Everything was fine in the letter, except the part where she told him of the strange flu that her mother had acquired from one of her patients. That's odd… thought Harry, replacing the letter, and putting the stack back in the floor.

Just remember Potter-Watch out!

            Harry folded up the letter and placed it back into the broken monitor of the computer Dudley broke when he was eight. Harry stood up and stretched, wondering what he was going to do about the letter, he wasn't going to tell Tonks, Lupin, Moody, or any grown-up for that matter. He didn't want to write Hermione, partially because of what Malfoy wrote, and partially because he didn't want to stress her out more than she was. Why not call Ron? Thought Harry. He could use the "Felly-tone" now, and Ron would keep it secret.

*               *               *

            "Maybe he's just trying to scare you?" offered Ron, as Harry listened on the other end of the receiver.

            "Nah…something's up with Hermione, she hasn't sent any letters in a couple of weeks! I'm just a bit worried about her. I mean…her mothers' just gotten a bad case of the flu," said Harry in a worried tone.

            "She didn't tell me her mother was sick!" Ron practically shouted.

            "Keep it down, Ron! Like I told you, she hasn't owled me in two weeks!" barked Harry, shrugging the bottom of a coat off his shoulder, getting cramped in the coat closet he was hiding in.

            "What ever you do, don't mention any of it to Hermy! Understand?" requested Harry, using the nickname that she acquired in the fifth year.

            "Yeah…whatever…" said a bored sounding Ron as he heard a click on the other end.

***Ron's POV

            "What was that about Ronnikins?" asked Mrs. Weasley, who was obviously listening to the other end of the conversation.

            "Nothing, Mum, stay out of it ok?" said Ron as he raised his voice.

            "As a member of the Order…I expected to keep you safe!" said Mrs. Weasley in an equally voluminous voice.

            "WELL, IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS ANYWAY!" roared Ron as he ran through the kitchen and out the backdoor.

            Ron stared down at the trickling stream from his branch in the large apple tree, wishing that he could stay there forever. He shook his head of the trance, plucked a sour apple from the tree, and started eating it, staring at the endless fields. Thoughts raced into his mind. Maybe this was the reason Mione hadn't sent him anything for two weeks. He was tired of unanswered letters. He threw his apple into the stream and jumped down from his high branch. He began to run back toward the burrow, a useless idea in his head.

            Running through the door, ignoring his mother's warnings, he climbed the steep stairs to his orange covered room. He tripped over various articles explaining You-Know-Who's', arrival back in the wizarding world, and finally reaching his desk, he took out a fresh piece of parchment and scribbled down note to Hermione. He quickly rolled it up, tied a leather string to it, and called Pigwidgeon from his perch on his closet rod. Ron tied the small scrap of paper to his legs and whispered to Pig where to take it.

            "Give this to Hermy as soon as you can-her life may depend on it," stated Ron in the form of a whisper to Pig.

            With that, he watched as the jumpy little Owl flitted around the outside of the burrow before taking off into the slightly darkening sky.

*               *               *

Harry's POV

            Harry looked at the list of supplies for school and sighed, he would be visiting the Weasley's tomorrow. He wasn't sure if Hermione would be there. It had been a week since him and Ron had talked on the phone, and Harry was well aware that Ron had sent a letter to Hermione in hopes of finding out what was going on. Nevertheless, the attempt was fruitless. School was going to start in three days and Harry needed sleep.

            He climbed into his bed and stared at the ceiling until he drifted off to sleep, his dreams plagued by possibilities of the welfare for Hermione.

            Harry woke up to timid knocking at his door.

            "Gome ig," Harry managed in his sleep-intoxicated voice.

            Harry heard the squeal of the door being pushed open slowly. He pushed himself into a sitting position slowly as he caught sight of frizzy brown hair…

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Ok… the disclaimer is on the default chapter.

Any reviews are accepted. I'll try to answer them personally, but if I don't, don't be offended.

I'll try to make each chapter 2,000 or more words. I'm sorry this chapter isn't as long. More chappie's coming soon. J