AN: I am not British and honestly, I don't know much about being British. I apologize, but this story is going to be very American. Also, I may not use a whole lot of spells and I'm going to make up some details that I don't know for sure, like what Malfoy Manor is supposed to look like or Hermione's parents house. I just don't remember these things and they'd take forever to research and if I'm being honest, I'm too lazy to researc something that I could just make up. So if it bothers you, don't read my story. If not, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my worthless writings. Now on to the story... HERMIONE I sat on my bed, reading, as usual. The pages of the book were worn from me reading it over and over. The corners of the cover were rounded from the many times I clumsily drop it. I had been reading this book over and over since I got it from Ginny for my birthday a few years ago. Why this book never failed to grab my attention I cannot tell you. A letter was dropped onto my book. I didn't recognize the writing, but my name was scrawled on the envelope. When I looked up, Ron was staring at me, waiting. "An owl just brought me this." Ron stated flatly before turning to leave. "Wait, who is it from?" I asked before noticing the owl perched on the open window. Ron turned back to me for a moment. "You tell me. I've never seen this owl. It does remind me of Hedwig, though." He was right, the owl was nearly identical to Hedwig, except for a black spot under it's left eye. It was too small to be an adult yet too big to be a baby. It carried a small box of envelopes and paper with a tiny muggle pen. I hadn't seen the owl before in my life. I ripped open the letter and what I find is that it is from the last person I ever expected. Dear Granger, I need your help. You are the only one who is smart enough to do this. I'm lost and without a wand. If you write back, I will explain everything. Please, write back. I know this isn't like me, but I am begging you. You are my only hope. Find me. Draco Malfoy "That's impossible." I whispered breathlessly. "What is it Hermione? Who is it from?" Ron asked, suddenly concerned. "It says it's from Malfoy" He rolled his eyes at me and sighed. "Hermione, he has been dead for nearly three months now. Someone is messing with you." Walking out the door, he shouted behind him "Breakfast is ready." "Who would want to mess with me?" I whispered to myself. It had only been three months since we defeated Voldemort. All of the death eaters that survived were in Azkaban. Draco's mother had killed him after the battle, and had admitted to it before going to Azkaban. No one had seen and his body was never discovered. I had even gone to his funeral at Hogwarts. So that left the question- who was writing to me?