Disclaimer: J.K. owns. Mikey doesn't. lol

Sooo... first let me say I am so new to this. I'm not really sure where I'm going with the story just yet. I started it a while ago, but never finished. If you happen to recognize the story, it's because I previously posted the first chapters on a different site under a different penname, so don't think I'm stealing anybody's work. lol. But anyway, let me know what you like, what you don't like, and feel free to give suggestions. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy.

As an Auror, twenty-five year old Hermione Granger was very upset at the assignment she had been given. Her rank was entirely too high to be running errands. She was entirely too smart to be doing something so supercilious. She was entirely too tired to even be awake. However, there she stood outside the gates of Malfoy Manor. Hermione had been assigned to inspect Malfoy Manor for any illegal magical objects. This job she felt was far beneath her. Of course there were dangerous and illegal objects at the Malfoy Manor. The Malfoys were decidedly one of the oldest and most evil wizarding families during Voldemort's reign. Yes, they were going to have some undesirable trinkets. But surely the Ministry could have spared someone else to make sure Malfoy wasn't up to any mischief with his many toys. Hermione just didn't find the situation that difficult. She would go in, chastise Malfoy for having a few things he shouldn't, and then leave. She couldn't see any logic in telling him to get rid of anything potentially dangerous. Any dark object he may have was probably safer in his house, rather than on the streets. The entire situation was silly to her. However her superior thought the job was right up Hermione's alley. And Hermione Granger always did her job, and did it well.

But that didn't mean that she enjoyed it. She sighed as walked up towards Malfoy Manor. She stared at the mansion from behind its black cast iron gates. The stone building more resembled a castle than a house. There were towers and large painted glass windows not unlike those at Hogwarts. The front door resembled a drawbridge and the lawn seemed to go on forever. It was a very big house, Hermione finally decided before breaking the charms and letting herself in.

Closing the gate behind her, she narrowed her eyes as she thought about the long walk ahead of her. Hermione then rolled her eyes at herself, and apparated to the front door. Honestly, I am a witch after all, she thought. She sighed, staring at the door. She really wanted to be in and out of here as soon as possible. So she immediately went for the doorknocker and rapped smartly on the large wooden door. She waited a moment and then rapped again. It was a rather large house. Perhaps, no one would hear her the first time. Hermione tapped her foot irritably. I really do have better, more important things to do, she thought. Laundry is piling up, bookshelves needed alphabetizing, Crookshanks could use a new blanket for his basket… She paused, contemplating other things of equal importance and urgency. Like I said, better things to do. She made to rap again when the door opened slightly, enough for Hermione to glimpse one very large eyeball peering through the crack.

"Can I help you, Miss?" the house elf squeaked, looking very nervous.

Hermione's face quickly softened at the sight at the begotten creature. She bent down so that she was eye level with the elf.

"Good afternoon," she said kindly. "May I speak to the owner of the house? Mr. Malfoy?"

The house elf looked at her briefly, and then stared over her shoulder. The small elf shifted its weight from one foot to the other, and then wrung it's hands in anguish, as if it couldn't decide what to do. Hermione was instantly reminded of Dobby, and took pity on the poor elf.

"It's alright," she said soothingly, not quite understanding what would cause the elf to act in such a way. "Don't worry. Please tell Mr. Malfoy that there is someone from the Ministry that would like to speak with him for just a moment. Kindly let Mr. Malfoy know that he is not in any trouble." Not yet, anyway, she thought.

At this the elf seemed to become even more distressed. She pulled her ears and stomped her feet several times before finally managing to say, "Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Malfoy are very busy at the moment."

Hermione looked confusedly at the elf for several moments. There were only two living Malfoys left. One lived a solitary life in this mansion, and the other had been locked away in Azkaban years ago. Malfoy couldn't have taken himself a husband; he never really seemed the type. She scoffed inwardly at the thought, before shaking her so she could think clearly. Hermione looked back at the elf, to find her staring back, widening her eyes emphatically. An understanding passed between the two of them and Hermione stood up to her full height, gripping her wand firmly in her right hand.

"Where is he?" she said quiet and calmly. The elf shook her head, tears in her eyes. Hermione sighed and asked again. "Where is Lucius?" The elf only shook her head again, and began to pace. Hermione contemplated searching the expansive house for him and thought better of it. She really did not have the time to be playing hide-and-go-seek with an escaped Death Eater. Malfoy knew each and every nook and cranny of the house and already had the upper hand. It was imperative that she knew exactly where he was if she was to have any hope in apprehending him. She looked sternly at the elf and asked a final time. "Where is Lucius Malfoy?"

When the elf did not answer, Hermione swiftly pointed her wand at the creature. As much as she despised it when witches and wizards abused their magical abilities, she really didn't have any time for nonsense. "Elf, if you do not tell me where your master is you will be very sorry indeed." The tiny elf whimpered, and suppressed a scream. "Upstairs," she whispered crying.

"Upstairs where?" Hermione snapped, still pointing her wand menacingly.

"Third floor, in the drawing room," the elf said fearfully. "Seventh door on the left."

"Thank you," Hermione said lowering her wand and briskly letting herself into the house.

Hermione peered up the landing as she approached the third story. The hallway was dimly lit by a few candles, and appeared empty. She took in her surroundings. The wallpaper had faded to a dusty green, except in occasional rectangular patches, where she could only guess, pictures used to hang. Draco must have taken them down, she thought. She could imagine how likenesses of his broken family could torture him. She frowned, careful not to make any sounds, making her way up the last of the steps. She counted the doors, as she passed them, wand hand tensed and ready. Third. Fourth. Fifth door. She stopped abruptly in between the sixth and the seventh when she heard a voice through the open door way. Pressing her body flat against the wall she listened closely to the voice within.

"Foolish boy." It said. "This is exactly why I've kept you so close when you were in school. You weren't like the rest of the family. I knew that if you had it your way, you would choose this path. But you do not see it, do you?" He laughed. "Good and Evil. There are no such things. There is only power, and those strong enough to take it. That is what truly seperates us." He looked down on the younger man with disgust. "You, my son, are hopelessly weak. After years in Azkaban I finally escape to find my master long gone and that my son did nothing to prevent it. The Dark Lord should have taken your life at your first show of incompetence. You have Snape to thank for you surviving so long..." His grey eyes were void of any emotion. "But you have over stayed your welcome in this house and on this Earth. Disgrace me no longer. You are no son of mine."

Hermione, knowing she could wait no longer, jumped through the doorway. "Stupefy!"

Lucius had time enough to look absolutely livid before being blasted into the wall behind him. She stared around the room, tense and ready for a fight, when she noticed gratefully that Lucius hadn't brought any lackeys along with him. Relaxing Hermione moved across the room to kick Lucius' unmoving form. He was out cold, blood trickling down the back of his head from the impact with the wall. She had given the spell a little too much force, as she most often did. But looking at Lucius, she felt no remorse. She bound him as a precaution and continued to stare at the man with loathing, when a moan from the other side of the room got her attention.

"Draco," she breathed.