Back, after a long postponement. I do apologize for my insensitivity throughout this hiatus. –M

My Dearest Ronald—

I hope Errol is okay; when he delivered that last letter he was looking rather ill. But that just may be because he runs into too many windows. Take good care of him though, okay? I would hate for you to lose him. Maybe you should use Pigwidgeon instead. I know he's little, but you know he's pretty strong. Anyways, I do need to get to the point of this letter; certain things have happened, and I can't make it to the Burrow this summer. I would like to have you and Harry come visit me where I'm staying, but we'll have to see how this pans out. It may be out of the question, I'm not really sure. I can't tell you where I am, in the case that this letter is intercepted, and I expect you to understand and not ask me to answer any questions. It would be safest for you not to reply to this letter, either. I'll get in touch with you hopefully, to see if you two can come out. If not, I'll see you at school for our final year at Hogwarts.

--All my love and affection, Hermione

Hermione put down her quill, blowing on the parchment to dry the glistening black ink. The sad expression on her face did not fade; she would miss her friends terribly, but she could not risk putting them into harm's way. She had a pack of Death Eaters after her now; there was no way she would even consider subjecting her friends to the same constant threat she was now under, something Malfoy did not cease to remind her of.

He had taken her on the tour of the Manor earlier (Manor was by far an understatement; his home was ridiculously huge. If he hadn't of been there with her, showing her all the turns and hallways, she was quite certain she would've gotten lost, and died, starving to death in the cold) and as they roamed the lush halls, he made sure to emphasize the fact that she was now, in essence, a refuge, seeking safety from Voldemort's followers. It would be best, he had advised, to cut communication with the outside world. If any of the letters were intercepted, and led to the Manor as her hiding place, any consequences to follow would not be pleasant. For her, or for her loved ones.

So she had to stay here, with only Malfoy and occasionally Calvin for company. Any visitations with her friends were going to have to wait, to see if any fallout from her rescue were to hit home upon Malfoy.

Once the ink dried, she rolled up the parchment, affixed her wax seal over the edge, and pushed the chair back from the desk. She looked up, leaning back in the seat, and saw the library walls which extend up into oblivion.

"Are you all finished, Granger?" The sudden voice startled her, and she lost her balance, falling all the way back to floor in her already off-balanced chair. She looked up at Malfoy sourly, rubbing the back of her head where it had hit the marble.

"Yes. Thanks for asking," she responded with more than a hint of malice. She glared at him, watching him turn red from holding his breath so he wouldn't laugh at her. He offered her his hand, and yanked her off the floor to her feet.

"I'm starving, are you ready to eat?"

"Is it time for supper already?" She looked at the grandfather clock across the corridor; half past six. The day had flown by, what with the tour of the Manor and all.

"Come on." He turned tail and started to walk towards the library doors, slowly, so his dinner companion could catch up to him.

"We don't have to change for dinner?" She teased. Throughout the day, she had teased him about the opulence of the Manor.

"No. We don't do that anymore. You know, it's really not all it's cracked up to be." He flashed his signature smirk.

When the pair entered the dining room, Draco went, as was his habit, to sit at the head of the table. Hermione took one of the chairs beside him, and instantly, their glasses were filled with wine and water, and a small salad appeared on the top plate. She smiled. Just like Hogwarts.

"So, Hermione. What is it you're planning on doing once school lets out? I mean, this is assuming, quite accurately in my opinion, that you will get above a perfect score on the NEWTs?" He waggled his fork at her, the tomato dangling precariously at the end of the tines, a drop of salad oil attempting to emancipate itself from the underside of the vegetable. He looked at it, considered a course of action, and popped it delicately into his mouth. He looked at Hermione as he chewed, and waited for a reply.

She sipped her water, and looked thoughtfully into the fireplace where a small blaze was crackling quietly before answering. "I've been thinking of becoming an auror. I took a test one time; you know those ones that the Ministry sends you over the summer, trying to recruit students to work for it once they graduate? I took one of those since I was deathly bored, and I did very well. I mean, I've got the logic and the common sense, which is definitely necessary, but then, I also have the know-how and the practical experience. That puts me far ahead of the rest of the pack. I would do very well."

"Yes. I can see that. You would make an excellent auror."

Hermione beamed at him, fiddling with a lock of hair that rested on her shoulder. "What about you, what were you planning on doing after we graduated?"

"Well, recently, I've been thinking of replacing Madame Hooch, as the Quidditch instructor up at Hogwarts. But that would involve my interaction with first years on a daily basis, so I'm not sure I could handle that. I'd end up at St. Mungo's before the term even finished. But I was also considering working with dragons. A bit like Charlie Weasley?" Hermione grinned. "I know, me wanting to be like a Weasley is odd, but oh well. It's lucrative, dangerous, exciting; everything a kid could ask for."

"Aren't you scared you might get, I don't know, mangled by a dragon? Have you seen Charlie's arms? He's got scars all over the place."

"Well, that's a risk that comes with the job; trust me, I've looked into it. You're trained to do this; you have years of formal schooling under your belt before they let you go off on your own. But it's a risk I'm willing to take, being injured. Dragons are fascinating to me. I mean, come on, my name is Draco, for Merlin's sake. I'm bound to be at least somewhat interested in them. They're intelligent, resourceful, and emotional. They're just like wizards, but bigger and a tad more deadly."

"I don't know Draco. I know a good handful of wizards that are pretty deadly."

"That's because they're insane homicidal maniacs." He laughed, and forked up another tomato, eating it without any hesitations.

"Perhaps…" she trailed off, thinking about the war, and its effect on the inhabitants of the magical world she now called home.

A house elf entered, intruding on her thoughts. "Master Draco? Master Zabini is here to see you, sir. He's in the parlor." He bowed and exited the room, shuffling backwards, his small body still tilted towards the floor.

Draco stood up, and then excused himself. Hermione continued to work on her salad; she was rather hungry. She had just finished and was waiting on the next course when Draco returned, Calvin in tow.

"Nice to see you again, Hermione." Oh no, I've interrupted their romantic dinner. Pity. There was scathing contempt in his tone.

"And you, Calvin." He took the seat directly across from her at the table, and a small salad appeared on his plate. His glasses filled themselves. Oh good. I'm starving.

"We've only just started Calvin, so we don't mind waiting for you to catch up. Do we Hermione?" She shook her head, but noted the unhappy tone in Draco's voice. He was not pleased with this intrusion. I'm not eating this crap. Do I look like a bloody rabbit?

"I just love salads, don't you Mister Zabini?" Hermione twinkled. She was itching to get out of here, but her manners and Draco's reputation would hardly allow it. Her frustration had to manifest itself in other ways.

"Occasionally I'll have one." He finished his plate, and the next course magically appeared. What the Christ is this?

"Oh my favorite." Draco said delightedly. "I haven't had this in ages." He forked up a chunk of what appeared to be salmon with some sort of brown sugar-y, spice encrusted topping, and bit into it, closing his eyes in satisfaction. Calvin sighed in exasperation and followed suit.

…

Almost that entire meal was eaten in silence. Well, for Calvin and Draco it was. Hermione, however, could hardly focus on her salmon due to all the noise coming from across the table. As soon as the meal had finished, she excused herself from their presence, claiming a headache. Draco looked concerned but didn't ask questions. Calvin just nodded. And thought; loud thoughts.

Instead of heading up to her bedroom, like her companions had assumed, she went in the direction of the library. This whole situation was going to drive her batty if she couldn't get to the bottom of it. Why did she suddenly have the capacity to read Calvin and the Headmaster? She didn't hear Draco. Was it just those two that she could hear, or was it everyone excluding Draco? Was there a reason that she couldn't hear him specifically? She intended to find out.

She waited as the stone guards opened the tall doors for her to enter the library, then as she entered, she made a sharp left, where she knew the catalogue to be. She opened the heavy volume and searched telepathy, extrasensory perception, mind-reading, and sixth sense. There were dozens of books to choose from, and she read the titles, looking for one to jump out at her. There was one entitled Gift or Curse ?: the Power of Reading Others by Hidalga Solano that seemed to resonate with her, so she looked up the location of it, and entered the library jungle in its search.

She found it, hiding on the darkened top shelf in some forgotten, dusty corner. She pulled a chair over so she could get high enough to reach it; she had long ago forgotten that she carried a wand. She was born a Muggle, and some habits were hard to break. If Ronald could see her now, he would be appalled.

She just got her fingers on the leather cover, struggling to pull it off the shelf, when she felt a tingle of magic and watched it float down to eye level. She turned quickly, almost losing her balance on the chair, to find Draco behind her, holding the book. He examined the cover and cocked an eyebrow.

Well, how was that for a first day back, kids?