Hey guys, it's me again. I know, it's been forever. I'm definitely not the committed one in this relationship...sorry. I wrote this chapter in a guilty 2-hour period, and it might be slightly choppy, but then again I'm a little out of practice...

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter Series!

Enjoy, and I'll see you at the bottom.

Part One: Harry

"Here." Bill Weasly dropped a plain, heavy, golden ring into Harry's outstretched hand that was almost identical to a wedding band, except that judging by the weight, Harry estimated it was pure gold. As soon as the ring touched his skin, he felt a slight hum, and he swore that he could nearly feel the ring moving. After a brief moment, it went still. Turning the small token over in his fingers, Harry noticed where had once been a plain surface was an engraved insignia: a stag. As he ran a finger over the molded contours of the small engraving, small writing appeared, etched in the space below the stag: Harry James Potter. The writing disappeared almost as soon as it had appeared, and Harry blinked, trying to remember if it had been there at all.

"They've been charmed to recognize the owner, and only the owner. It shows your patronus on the front, but only when you're holding it. To anyone else it's an ordinary ring." Bill explained. Harry continued to look at the ring, and Bill, noticing his confusion, rushed to explain himself a bit more.

"It's not just jewelry, mate. I've also charmed them to act as a sort of Death Eater radar: if there are death eater's near, it will heat up. Not enough to seriously burn you, of course, but enough to get you to notice. Also, if you haven't worn it in over 8 hours, it assumes that you've been kidnapped and stripped of possessions, and sends out a 'distress call' of sorts. Basically, it just will transmit a message to all of us, and everyone else's will glow a bright blue. They were made just before the battle, but we weren't able to finish our work on them, because of the circumstances. So just make sure you keep it on you, yeah? We'll all be needing one for, well, you know."

He didn't say it out loud, but Harry knew he was talking about rescuing Hermione. He and Kingsley had been talking for days with the other senior Order members after Jacob had been brought back about their "next steps".

Having said his piece, Bill gave a brief nod, and stepped out of the room, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the door frame.

Holding the ring in his palm, Harry idly wondered if a ring had been made for Ron and Hermione as well, if they had been made before the battle. He smiled, imagining the conversation that would've have taken place were they here to receive their own ring:

"Bloody hell, I'm not wearing a ring, 'Mione. That stuff's for girls and Bill. Not every Weasly's a cross dresser, you know, however much Fred and George act like it…"

"For goodness sake Ronald, simply because it's made of gold doesn't make it a woman's jewelrypiece! I'm not asking you to give up your manhood, or whatever's left of it, honestly, you can wear it around your neck if you're that disturbed by wearing a ring!"

"What, like a necklace? Not bloody likely! I'll take the ring then, but I won't like it."

"Thank you for at least making an effort to be reasonable, I'm sure we'll all be gravely affected by your sorrow."

Harry could almost see the two of them in the room with him, bickering. Although he still felt a pang of sadness, he could no longer muster up enough energy to cry. His emotion had become the driving motivation in the operation to rescue Hermione, as his sadness turned to grim determination.

Slipping his ring onto his right ring finger, Harry felt a slight hum emitting from it. Not unpleasantly, it radiated throughout his entire body, until he felt alive again, the ring's energy coursing through him.

Part 2: Draco

*Knocking on the Door* "Hermione? Hermione, are you in there?" No response came from the room in front of him, and Draco took a deep breath, and turned the envelope in his hands over and over. It had arrived via raven to him only moments after Hermione's bath had been drawn, and he was only thankful that he had gotten to it before his aunt had.

"Hermione, you can't hide in there forever." He knocked again, but was still met with silence. "Hermione, I'm coming in, whether you let me in or not." He tried the doorknob. It was locked. She had locked him out of his own room, that girl! He seethed in annoyance and pulled out his wand, muttering "Alohomora." It unlatched with a click!He pushed open the door, and stepped inside the room.

Hermione was sitting on the bed with her back towards him, dressed in a simple green dress that Draco remembered his mother used to wear on their "family outings" back when there was time and happiness enough for that in their dysfunctional family. A memory of lunch in the gardens came back to him, where his mother wore that exact dress, and for a moment he was swept up in nostalgia. He snapped out of it with the unpleasant feeling of water soaking through to his socks and he looked down, noticing he had been standing in a puddle. The bathroom door was still open, where Draco could see that the water had spilled out onto the floor. Puddles led into the room, where there was a large wet spot on the floor that looked suspiciously as if Hermione had sat there for a time after her bath. Grimacing, he started to walk towards the bed, holding out the open envelope like it was the last thing in the world he wanted to see. She didn't turn as he walked towards her, and remained motionless at the edge of the bed, staring out the window in front of her.

"Hermione, I understand that you're not well right now. I don't expect you to be. But, I thought that I should share this with you." He held out the letter to her.

When she showed no interest in him of the offered letter, he retracted his hand and folded the paper into his shirt pocket.

"Hermione, what I'm about to tell you, please just listen to me. I'm not the most tactful of people. I never learned how to be. But please, just try to listen."

She still gave no sign that she had even heard him. He took this as an approval to go ahead, and sighed. "Hermione, it's your father. I'm afraid that he was caught trying to get into London. A diary was found on him. Your diary. From when you were young. He, well, he was found in the aftermath of a raid. I don't know if it was planned or not. But I'm afraid he died as a result."

"Murdered, you mean." The words came as such a shock to Draco, as they were as cold and unfeeling as the stony face that uttered them. Hermione didn't even look at him as she repeated herself. "He was murdered. By your pets. Your death eaters."

This Draco could not deny, and he swallowed a lump in his throat threatening to spill over. He resisted the urge to jump up and down and scream and cry like a child "It wasn't me! I didn't know this was going to happen! Please believe me, I didn't do it!" but he pushed away the impulse and simply stood feet away from the girl who now faced away from him. He had thought that she was torn past emotional ability, but her fists were clenched in rage, and the tendons of her arms stuck out especially accentuated by her skinniness.

"Hermione, I-" I'm so sorry. This shouldn't have happened. If there's anything I can do, let me know. He couldn't bring himself to say the words that he knew he should, he could barely choke out a single syllable of sympathy.

Taking a moment to compose himself, he drew in a breath. "He died well." The words rushed out before he could stop himself, and he instantly regretted them, although he managed to stop himself from adding on "if it's any consolation to you". He died well? Who in Merlin's name would say that as consolation? You indecent, senseless prat. He thought furiously, bracing himself for Hermione to fly into a rage.

Instead, she just sat there, deathly silent as ever, refusing to speak another word.

When Draco realized he wasn't going to get a response, he sighed and started reluctantly towards the door, to leave Hermione alone to her thoughts. Feet away from it he stopped, turned back to face her, with every intention of going back and comforting her. Telling her that her father was in a better place now, and that she would be safe, he would see to that. But instead he closed his mouth and continued on his path out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

Part 3: Hermione

The door shut, and at last Hermione let out the tension she had been holding while Malfoy was in the room. Falling back on the bed, a few tears leaked out, and she brought her hand up to her face, to touch the cool wetness left on her cheeks as the tears fell.

He died well? He died well? What in Merlin's name does that mean? She wondered idly if Malfoy would die well. Would he would beg for his life, scream, plead, try to cheat death and lie, like the snake he is? Or would he would face it head on and aggressively, fighting to survive, or silently and cowardly take it. Hermione decided that he would face his death cravenly, and it somehow made her feel better, even though she knew it was probably far from the truth.

Her gaze drifted to where Malfoy had left the letter on the edge of the bed, opened. She saw herself reaching for it, then stopped. Do I really want to read this? I have to know.

She took out from the envelope a thin piece of elegant stationary, where she recognized the Zabini crest at the top. Blaise, she thought. The letter was short and concise, no emotion in it:

Draco,

The body of mudblood Granger's muggle father was revealed at the Saturday raid in muggle London. On his body Yaxley found a journal containing nothing much, but it had the mudblood's name on it. We are hoping to trace it back to where they were staying previously-have no information about the mother, but search teams are being sent out. Will contact when I have further information.

Blaise

Her mother….Her mother! If they had found her dad, why couldn't they find her mum? She had to get out of here, she had to warn her! Her father didn't just come to London on his own…which brought up another question, how did they manage to see through the Confundus charm she had put on them?

She leapt out of bed, not thinking about her condition, and instantly crumpled to the floor, her legs unable to hold her. Pain laced up from her core, and she immediately felt every single bruise and cut inflicted upon her. Blood trickled down from the wound on her head, which Draco had forgotten to heal in his haste. Blinking it out of her eyes, she managed to drag herself only a few feet before she succumbed to the blackness once again.

Weeeeee! I recovered it, thank the gods! I'm pretty sure I was crying with relief...

Thank you all for reading, and please review! I'll try to get another chapter up soon.

Until next time...