She settled on one thought, boiling away all other concerns about magical suppressants and tattoos and Horcruxes until the crucible bubbled, and the new questions wafted up from the cauldron of her mind.

How long had the Malfoys been planning for her? And what did they expect her to do for them?

~*~

The next morning, Draco's door was locked. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course," she whispered to herself.

She wondered if Boppy even needed to bring fresh linens.

Every day for the rest of the week, she tried Draco's door. When it didn't budge, she wandered downstairs to try Lucius's study. She looked for Lucius and Narcissa's bedroom in the other wing, but she felt less inclined to intrude upon Narcissa's personal space.

She threw caution to the wind on the seventh day of their absence and began to reread the Horcrux book. There was nothing new. She now knew all the facets of making Horcruxes, but destroying them still yielded the same answers. At night, when her thoughts would drift to Charlie or Draco, she'd recite the steps in her mind until she fell asleep.

The water imagery in the Occlumency book encouraged her to examine the pond on the Malfoy estate more.

Think of a lake with still waters.

After a week of standing at her windows staring down at the pond, she finally wrapped herself against the afternoon wind, and crossed the grounds to the grassy shore. She plopped herself down in the grass, dropping several books next to her.

Gazing at the water's surface, Hermione blocked the sounds and smells around her, focusing on her sight only.

The peacocks broke her concentration as they cawed for her attention. She jumped, turning to see one several paces from her, eyeing her with a twitching head.

"Am I on your turf?" she said with a smile.

He tilted his head at her and then wandered down to the water, dipping his head to drink. She watched the two others slip down the bank, shuffling closer to her.

Just like a Malfoy man, she thought. Ruining her concentration and drawing her focus to him.

She took her books, leaving the shore for the peacocks, and circled the perimeter of the gazebo. It was as large as her childhood bedroom, if not larger. Roman marble pillars supported a dome of intricately designed glass and iron, magic-made if she had to guess.

Ascending the stairs, she perched on a bench looking out over the water and opened Undesirable No. 3, the third in the series. She'd decided to give herself a break from her usual reading today. The pages fell open to her bookmark, but she stared out at the pond.

Think of a lake with still waters.

A breeze kissed the surface, rippling the water. Hermione focused on the depths below, still not visible even after the intrusion.

The sun dipped lower as she meditated, her fingers tucked in the pages, and her thoughts far away.

"You've mastered meditation, I see."