"What are you doing in here, Malfoy?" Hermione growls, not really expecting an answer. His eyes roll around until they land on her, the grey orbs screaming their indignation. She's half tempted to leave him like this, but the ground is cold, and she isn't so cruel. "Finite Incantatum," she sighs and pockets her wand.

Draco sits up with a groan and shakes out his limbs before standing fully. "There was no need to be so rough," he grumbles, walking past her and further into the room. Without asking, he drops into her chair that is sat in front of the fire and stretches out so his feet are warming.

It's really only then that Hermione remembers her own uncovered feet and wordlessly casts a warming charm on them. They ache, which isn't entirely unexpected, given her carelessness when she left the house. With deft hands, she pulls off her soaked soaks and tosses them by the door, where they land with a wet slap. Rubbing each foot until the pinpricks die away, she whispers a healing charm to heal the damaged skin and walks on tender feet towards Draco.

"What are you doing here?" She repeats, more firm but calmer.

He looks up at her and smirks. "You run faster than I would have thought. It's difficult keeping up with you, especially in the snow. I'm just glad I managed to snag my shoes by the back door." Draco casts a cursory look down at her feet. "Merlin knows how you did it," he says with a sympathetic wince. "You didn't even stop once. Your feet must be like iron."

"Answer the question, Malfoy," she snaps, losing her patience.

"And that magic you performed on this place? It's fantastic," he praises. "I wouldn't have ever bothered with searching the place if I hadn't been there to see first hand the revealing charm you used." He taps his chin idly in thought, eyes going distant.

Hermione is more than ready to petrify him again. She doesn't reach for her wand, though, and pats herself on the back for the willpower.

Meanwhile, Draco is making himself comfortable in the chair, looking like he very much plans to fall asleep. It's really only the thought that murder is illegal that keeps her from reaching for her wand now.

"Draco," Hermione snarls, "how did you even get out of the house to get here?" She stalks towards him, arms crossed.

He cracks open an eye and regards her with a bored look, certainly not comfortable with an angry witch glaring at him, but doing a good job at masking the discomfort. Sighing like he's been put-upon, Draco says, "I'm here because I refuse to be left alone for an undetermined amount of time, which will result in another argument with you. Frankly, I'm tired of arguing, so I followed you." His words stun her, but he's going on before she can respond. "Getting out of the house was fairly easy. I managed to slip out of the door before it closed behind you, which avoided the electric shock, and did the same to this building because I assume it has the same warding." He closes his eyes, deciding the conversation over, and sinks into the cushions.

Hermione chooses to ignore his second peace offering of the day, for the time being at least, Hermione sighs and turns to the desk where the letter is still waiting. "If I asked you to leave, what are my chances that you'll actually listen for once?" she asks.

He hums in consideration. "Not very high, I'd say. I like it here," he answers, then stretches and crosses his arms behind his head like a pillow. A content smile replaces his smirk.

Groaning, Hermione stomps to the adjacent room and places her hand on the knob. Here, she hesitates.

This room, her private library, is the one secret she's managed to keep quiet for so many years. Not even Harry or George know what she turned the room in to. She doesn't want to share it with anyone, but she desperately needs to be alone and have him out of her way. He refuses to go back to the house, and this is the one place that will give her time alone.

"Draco," she grudgingly calls his name. "Please come here."

He comes without protest, shockingly, and stands beside her with a furrowed brow. "What is it?" he inquires, voice quiet, like he's sharing a secret. Hermione nearly laughs at how fitting it is.

Hermione turns the knob and pushes open the door, allowing him entrance to the room. He gives are a confused look before moving through the door. The moment he steps into the room, his eyes widen. With a barely contained glee, he turns and runs his hand along a shelf, much like she had. Draco makes a complete circuit of the room, feeling along the spines of the books with reverence.

At the public library, he'd treated it with the cold dispassion of an aloof heir who owns bigger libraries in his own home. She'd been mildly offended the first time they'd gone and he'd looked around with distaste before she remembered how expansive the Malfoy Manor is. This, though, is nothing like that.

This is unbridled fascination and a true passion for books and Hermione is feeling more at ease by sharing this with him. She knows very few who might appreciate the collection she has amassed

"What is this?" he questions, not looking at her, but at the books all around him.

Hermione chuckles despite herself. "It's my personal library. I created it after-after what happened with Ronald, and I've kept it to myself." Her voice strains over his name and Draco spares her a glance and a small nod of understanding. "You aren't to tell anyone about this. As far as most everyone knows, this is a rundown shack that has absolutely nothing in it and I want it to stay that way."

That isn't the only reason, but it's the only one she's willing to speak aloud. Truthfully, she's keeping it quiet because she doesn't want them to know that she's still every bit the book-obsessed "golden girl" that Ron accused her of being. She doesn't think about how much she's hiding of herself because of him.

The threat must have been clear enough in her voice because he nods again in agreement. "Who would I tell anyway?" Draco moves to a shelf across the room, only half-focusing on talking to her now. "It's not like I get any visitors here," he adds, sounding bitter.

She'd deny it until the very end of her life, but sympathy creeps up on her. "You won't be here forever, you know," she murmurs. "There's only a little over seven months left and then you're free to go." He makes a small scoffing sound but doesn't otherwise react to her words. Hermione sighs and turns her back to leave. She doesn't catch the pained look that flashes across his face, and it's gone as fast as it came. "The room is yours. Read what you want, just stay in this room."

Closing the door, Hermione leaves him alone and ambles over to her desk. Ignoring what Ronald had written her, Hermione pulls out a new piece of parchment and starts writing a response to him

Dear Weasley,

Who do you think you are writing to me again? Didn't you understand my previous letter? Is your minuscule brain having difficulty processing what I told you? No one wants you here! Even your own family is disgusted by what you've done, and they don't even know the whole truth.

But, so help me, if you aren't gone within the next month, the entire wizarding world and beyond will know what you did. Then not a soul on earth will want you anywhere within a mile of them. Is that what you want? To be shunned by even the little friends you might still have? I can guess not.

And if you think I won't do it, if you still think I'm some kind of coward, you are poorly mistaken. I'm done caring about anything that is in any way remotely related to that day so it will be no trouble at all to let the news slip to Reeta Skeeter. She'd have a field day creating a front page article about you and your filthy little secrets. I bet you'd just love that, wouldn't you? Everyone knowing what you did, what a disgusting person you are. I know I'd certainly revel in every moment of it.

But if you leave, if you get out of our lives for good, your measly secrets will stay just that, a secret. Don't make me have to do anything else, Ronald. I'm hoping you will finally realize that you aren't wanted and you'll go. Then again, you have always been single-minded and obstinate. Perhaps this time, though, you'll surprise us and actually listen. Go on and crawl back to wherever you've been hiding for the past years and stay there.

Hermione Granger

Once she's finished, Hermione leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. She listens to the crackling of the fire to calm her frayed nerves and slow her pounding heart.

Hermione is so tired now. Tired of fighting with Ronald, tired of hiding all of her secrets, tired of feeling like she'll forever be stuck in the past and unable to move forward. She wants this whole business to be over with and done so she can go back to living a normal life that she so deserves after the war.

She prays that, after this letter Ronald will leave her alone. She's asked him enough times now, and everything will hopefully be better now.

With a quiet, disbelieving scoff at her own helpless hope, Hermione tries to let her mind wander off for a much needed rest. Unfortunately, she doesn't account for one very annoying ferret.

"If you're debating whether or not to send the letter, I suggest that you do," he says loudly.

Hermione jerks in her seat, flailing wildly for a moment before whipping around to scowl at him. "You startled me," she scolds, folding the parchment so he couldn't read anymore before standing up. "And you invaded my privacy." She's far too tired to to be properly upset that he'd read the letter.

Draco grins cheekily and shrugs his shoulders. "I took a break to rest my eyes and comes out here. Your letter just happened to be sitting in a way that I could read it."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione searches for an envelop and goes about addressing it to where she's been receiving the letters from. Some hotel in London, but she hasn't gone searching to find out for sure. "You're a prat." It lacks it's usual heat.

"I meant what I said, though," Draco continues. "You really should send it. He deserves everything in there and more for all that he's put you through."

Hermione eyes him, attempting to decide whether or no he's being genuine. Of course she's going to send the letter, she has every reason and right to, but why does it matter to him one way or the other.

"What's happened to you as of late?" She asks with a weak laugh. "One day you're on his side and the next you're on mine. Your mood changes faster than anyone I've ever met." She'd meant to come off as nonchalant, but she truly did want to know why he's changed.

Draco offers nothing but a noncommittal shrug and a barely-there smile.

Not wanting to seem overeager, Hermione lets the question slip by unanswered. "Let's read for a while before heading back," she offers when the silence stretches for too long. They nod and make their way to the book room. Hermione, for once, does not miss the odd look on his face. It leaves her with many unanswered questions, but she puts voice to none of them yet.