A/N: This is the beginning of a set of companion pieces to Changes in Heart and What Once Was- aspects won't make a lot of sense if you've read neither. So go read them. ;-)

Disclaimer: All recognizable things are property of JK Rowling, etc.

Rating: high T

Location in story- fits between Lucius Malfoy's trial and Dumbledore's death in What Once Was

The Late Shift

She sat poring over paperwork long into the night, long after everyone else had gone home. Hermione had found her niche in the Bureau of Concealment in the Auror Department, and it was always very busy- not only did they deal with ex-death eaters and sympathizers trying to stay under the radar by covering their actions and other tracks which would lead back to Voldemort, but they also ran through pseudonyms and known cover identities which were provided to the head of the bureau by spies and the like. She knew for a fact that Severus had provided several of them, but most of the identities of the informants were kept top secret.

Ron and Harry, on the other hand, had chosen a more proactive, hands-on approach to the auror department; they frequently went on raids and confronted cornered supporters. From what Hermione understood, they were quite good at it- the presence of Harry Potter, she suspected, was enough to send half of the spineless supporters into paralyzing fear anyway- but she had little opportunity to speak to them since she'd earned a promotion and switched shifts last month.

Her change in job could be stressful at times, but she liked it. She worked at nights mostly, and was in charge of any correspondence received overnight. Periodically, someone would come in with a tip and they would be forced to send an emergency on-call team out to track someone down or make an arrest. It was Hermione's job to arrange those missions from her position as liaison and information-gatherer.

This, of course, had its ups and downs like any other job. She spent a lot of time to herself, which she usually liked, but could occasionally get lonely; also, it would make visiting Severus much more difficult when term started, because he worked during the school day, obviously, and when she worked nights, she found it hard to find time to make it to Hogwarts. Also, some nights nothing happened at all, and once she'd finished her usually daily routine, she was left with nothing but to sit there for hours reading or else wise occupying her time; which would have been great two months ago when she'd been worrying about her impending N.E.W.T.s, but now that they were done and grades were in- all top marks, of course- she had less necessary reading.

On this particular July night, things were shaping up to be about as slow as Hermione could remember; it had been nearly nine months since Voldemort's defeat, and the action was slowing down for her particular department- some crafty supporters still managed to weasel their ways around- Pettigrew among them, she thought with disgust.

She was preparing to wrap up her last bits of remaining work from the day and settle down with a cup of tea and the Evening Prophet when an alert sounded, signaling someone wished to come up to the office. Hermione still struggled to get used to these visits- periodically, someone would come up with a special clearance code to verify their identity, and pass along a variety of information, sometimes crucial and time-sensitive, and at other times general information to file about the different people they were tracking. They were simply known as 'informers' and she was sworn to all kinds of secrecy regarding their identities. Some of them still worked closely with the subjects they were watching, and their surveillance was done very craftily and sneakily. Others- Severus for instance- were more of consultants, though she imagined that at the end of the first war, Severus had operated under all of the security standards still observed by some of the informers.

Their files did not possess real names; sometimes they introduced themselves to Hermione anyway, and others she knew only by code names. The file of the person waiting downstairs floated to her desk and she opened it; then, with a flick of her wand, a sort of intercom system was set up between the office and the level below.

"Clearance?" she asked.

"White Peacock, code one-one-six-three-eight-nine-Y."

With another flick of her wand, the intercom terminated and the doorway revealed itself to the person below. She whiled away the thirty seconds the informer spent walking to the office reviewing the file. It was an impressive one, she had to admit- five arrests made at this individual's information, and ten more suspects were either being pursued or watched in the meantime. Not your garden variety wizard with a vague suspicion about his neighbor, it seemed.

As she heard footsteps approaching her open office, she stood and called, "I'm glad you're here- this night was shaping up to--" she stopped mid-sentence. The approaching wizard stopped mid-stride. For a full fifteen seconds further they stood like that before Hermione sighed, turned, and stalked back into her office.

"Where is Auror McGinnis?" the man asked quietly as he followed her.

She rolled her eyes as she picked up the file once more. "Retired last month, Mister Malfoy- it was rather a big deal here at the Ministry and in the news…"

"My apologies," he replied smoothly, "I was out of the country with my family- having a private celebratory vacation for Draco's graduation from Hogwarts." He looked around the office with a mild interest for a few moments. "So you're the new liaison then?"

"Obviously," she snapped. She slid his folder across the desk. "Sign and date," she commanded. He took a seat opposite her and obeyed, sitting back and surveying her curiously when he'd finished.

"Congratulations on the promotion," he said evenly as she dug around in her desk. Silence. "How are you liking the new job?"

She slammed the parchment and quill she'd just retrieved down on the desk in front of him. "Really?" she demanded. "You're going to try to make small talk?"

"Just passing the time," he commented idly, rankling her even further.

"Then do what you came here to do," she hissed, gesturing violently to the writing materials in front of him. She held her own quill and placed a pot of ink on the desk and sat waiting. He picked up the quill, touched the tip to his tongue, and held it against the parchment. He let it go and it hovered there, poised to write.

He began narrating what new information he had, helped occasionally by a piece of parchment which had been in his pocket. Hermione took notes on the essentials for herself- things that she had questions about, things that didn't match up, or things that struck her particularly important.

"…told me he'd caught wind of Peter Pettigrew, codenamed Wormtail…"

"What?" Hermione sat suddenly straight at attention. Malfoy eyed her strangely but repeated himself.

"My unnamed source in France told me that he had caught wind of Peter Pettigrew- Wormtail- attempting some various elusive activities… my, Miss Granger, you should pay more attention; I'd hate to see you lose your new job already. Or is it Mrs. Snape now? I'd hate to think I missed any nuptials whilst away…"

Hermione bit back a retort, too preoccupied by Pettigrew. She swallowed. "What sorts of elusive activities?"

"Oh, you know," he said, bored, "traveling frequently, procuring inordinate amounts of Polyjuice potion which, funnily enough, is how he came on everyone's radar in the first place… I suppose the nitwit isn't bright enough to brew it himself…"

"Oh," Hermione replied absently while scribbling furiously, "It's not so hard, I brewed it successfully when I was thirteen… where was Pettigrew last heard of?"

Malfoy regarded his parchment of notes. "Hm… Cormenon- it's a small wizarding community near Tours." He paused. "And really, Granger? What could a thirteen-year-old need Polyjuice potion for?"

Her eyes narrowed at his question, but since she'd brought it up, it only seemed polite to respond. "Actually," she said tightly, "Harry, Ron, and myself were brewing some to change into Slytherin students so we could sneak into the common room and interrogate Draco to see if he knew anything about the Chamber of Secrets. Come to think of it, I should probably tell Draco that story now, see if he even remembers…"

Malfoy just stared at her blankly. "Quite the meddlesome little three, weren't you?" he finally asked. "Still are," he muttered. She gave a sneer that could have rivaled one of Severus's. "So what's your vendetta against Pettigrew?" he asked lazily as she wrote tirelessly. She froze and looked at him incredulously.

"As if you don't know," she scoffed, looking down again.

He did his best to look politely confused. "No, actually," he drawled slowly. "Was it Black, then?"

She grimaced, hating herself for allowing herself to be drawn into a conversation that wasn't technically related to work with this man. "Sirius… yes, partly. But more importantly, the reason Sirius was hunting him down in the first place, when Pettigrew framed him." He stared at her blankly and she threw up her hands incredulously. "The Potters!" she hissed. "He sold them out, and he was supposed to be their friend!"

When Malfoy finally spoke again, he spoke in a slow and measured voice. "I was under the impression," he murmured, "that the whole idea of them being betrayed was a misunderstanding- a miscommunication…"

"Why would you think that?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Clearly young Mr. Potter held no ill will towards his convicted godfather," Malfoy retorted stiffly. "It seemed that the events were fabricated, misunderstood…"

"Only in that Sirius and Pettigrew switched positions as secret-keeper for the Potters!" Hermione cried. "Unbeknownst to Dumbledore, they switched, and Pettigrew was able to give Voldemort what he wanted, to protect his own miserable hide…" she took a deep breath and calmed herself. "But," she said evenly, "I suppose it's little use raging against one death eater to another; please continue your recounting, if you have more." She froze when her wrist was seized in a tight grip. "Let go of me," she said lowly, dangerously. Malfoy complied immediately, as though touching her had burned him.

"Do not," he said quietly, "compare me to that sniveling, cowardly fool of a rodent."

She eyed him skeptically. "You're much better," she spat.

"I never sold out a family who trusted me to save my own skin," he said calmly.

"No," she bit, "you torture and rape seventeen year-old girls for the fun of it."

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, stopped, and sat back, observing her carefully. She was red with anger and was looking at him with such hatred, he wondered that she was still sitting here.

"Sometimes I wonder that you did not push for a lengthy sentence in Azkaban instead of full acquittal," he observed.

"That makes two of us," she muttered under her breath.

"Miss Granger," he said quietly, "I want you to imagine something. Imagine you are born into one of the oldest families known to our world- born to a father who places all emphasis into this concept of purity. You live in a class in which sons and daughters are disowned for straying outside of the carefully constructed social boundaries which they are given with no say in the matter at all.

"Now imagine you've finally come of age in a world like this- and someone new comes along, speaks convincingly, even eloquently on the matter, but somehow more rationally than your father ever managed. He is drawing the youth of this elite community to him, and you are no exception. Meanwhile, your pureblooded families around you are setting up marriages, keeping the families respectable for posterity.

"Time goes by, and this someone new begins to change his ways- uses deceit and violence, instead of rhetoric. Begins to kill advocates for equality, and their whole families, rather than merely speak against them. The radicalism begins to unnerve you, others speak about leaving- some more successfully than others- but then you learn something else.

"You learn that your hand-picked, young, beautiful, pureblooded wife is pregnant. Her sister is the most vicious supporter of the new and violent ways, and is eager to turn in traitors- in fact, prides herself on her vendetta against her 'blood-traitor' family members."

He sighed. "What do you do, Miss Granger? Do you risk it? Leave him and risk the life of your wife? Maybe. Do you risk the lives of your wife and unborn child? I was unwilling to do so. But then what choice do you have? To avoid suspicion, you must be convincing in your support, and through the attempt, perhaps you begin to convince yourself. Feeling, emotion are eliminated- you become what the monster wants you to be, and keep telling yourself that it is the only way."

"And you embrace the monster in yourself until something better comes along?" Hermione spoke, voice censuring.

"Until you must find a new way to protect that same family," he corrected in a surprisingly gentle voice, and Hermione remembered how Dumbledore had convinced him and Narcissa to cooperate the day of the battle. His tone then became hard again. "So do not be so quick to judge, Miss Granger. You, who received the politically correct education of this world from books, not from dogmatic, intolerant society. You, who were quick to fall in with Potter and Dumbledore, champions of change and equality in a divided world; with the Weasley family, who gain credence in this world for their purity, but place no stock in it themselves."

"Yet even one so entrenched in your world as Draco was able to see the bigotry, the cruelty; was able to give it up, for morality's sake."

Malfoy sat back and looked at her curiously. "That is an interesting point, Granger. Even Draco did things- terrible things, perhaps- despite his defection. As did Severus."

She eyed him coolly. "Draco did what he had to do to help what he believed to be the right side- as did I. As did Severus. Even if he was later in his realization."

"Yes, and bear in mind that, as your actions led your enemies to force your family into hiding for their very lives, I was unwilling to do the same. And, well… when you live with Bellatrix, certain things are expected- certain…cruelties.

"Besides," his mouth curled upwards. "How was I to know that everything between you and Severus was a farce? Between you and Draco? I hardly thought it would faze you."

She was on her feet, wand in hand before he could so much as blink. "So to sum up," she said, shaking in fury, "torturing me was okay because Bellatrix Lestrange would have reported you to Voldemort if you didn't, and raping me was okay because you thought Severus and Draco had beaten you to the punch? Am I missing anything?"

"Yes, the part where killing Bellatrix Lestrange was the most satisfying part of my adult life. I thank you for the opportunity."

"At least we can agree on that," she muttered. She paused, hating herself for the interest she was about to express. "Why did you kill her?" she'd wanted to ask that for months now. "You and I- we both thought Draco and Harry had been killed, thought Voldemort was sure to win…"

"Having nothing to lose can be a powerful motivator indeed."

Hermione was struck, not for the first time, by how much this powerful, cruel, cold man cared for his family.

"And why are you here today?"

He studied her with an expression akin to bemusement. "Why do you think, Miss Granger?"

"I think the one thing more dangerous that serving Voldemort is betraying him."

He laughed lowly. "You're sharp. And blunt. But absolutely correct; no need to romanticize anything."

She looked at him with disdain. "Don't worry," she muttered, "I'd never mistake your actions for honor or nobility."

Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene.

When she got to Prince Manor, she found that Severus had waited up for her like always, despite the late hour. He seemed to read something of the anxiety in her eyes, as he silently took her cloak and led her to a chair where he almost instantaneously set a cup of tea in front of her.

He didn't question her about her night; he never did, knowing full well that she was bound to the strictest secrecy regarding her new job. What he did do, however, without fail, was determine just from looking at her what kind of night she had, and behave accordingly. Tonight was a tea and quiet relaxation night.

"His condition is deteriorating more rapidly now," he murmured softly into her ear.

She considered this for a bit. He thought she might have dozed off due to her lack of response. "How long do you think he has?"

"A month, perhaps. Maybe less."

"Is he in pain?"

He almost chuckled. "No. Or indeed, if he is, he doesn't show it. Albus Dumbledore somehow manages to be above such mundane, everyday things as pain."

Hermione smiled to herself.

"We should have Draco over sometime soon."

"Very well." He didn't question the abrupt change in topic, but sensed it somehow factored into her night.

Yawning, she stretched and stood up. "I'll write him tomorrow," she sighed with tiredness. Turning and regarding Severus one last time, she smiled. "Thanks for waiting up. You know you don't have to."

"Just as you know that I will, regardless of how many times you say that."

She grinned, and then her expression sobered as he stood to walk upstairs with her. "I think I'm going to sleep alone tonight," she told him. He looked at her in mild surprise, but did not argue. They parted ways at the top of the stairs with a lingering kiss, yet he sensed some reserve on her part. Something was definitely bothering her.

He was not surprised when two hours later, per his request, Harmony came in to tell him that Hermione was sleeping rather fitfully. Hermione was likewise unsurprised when she woke from the unpleasant recollections to the sound and feel of Severus sliding into the bed behind her and pulling her into his arms, pressing his lips to her hair, shoulders, neck, and back.

She slept the rest of the night in peace.

A/N: So, installment number 1 of the filler chapter story!

I know this was less of a filler than a continuation- but it still fits before the absolute end of What Once Was, so I figured it counted. I also just really needed to delve a little further into the psychology of Lucius Malfoy, so hopefully this will have gotten that guilty pleasure out of my system (not that he won't feature in any other fillers… but none so prominently as this).

Hope you enjoyed. ;-)

*~Lexi~*