no money is made from this story and any copyright badness was not intended. this all belongs to J. and affiliated parties.

Theo and Draco.

Draco and Theo.

And Granger.

Draco, and his closest friend Theo.

Theo, and thorn in his side, Draco.

And a muggle born.

Death Eaters and a Mudblood.

Draco, Theo and Hermione.

She was throwing pebbles into a lake when Theo found her. They skipped over the surface, before sinking and vanishing. In the morning light, her face was blank, and she simply sat there cross legged. Skip. Skip.

Theo felt a tight panic seize his windpipe, and he staggered over the stony beach toward her, throwing off his mask on the way. He knelt besides her and she didn't even jump, but he felt it. She froze under his touch.

"Granger? Granger!" He shook her by the shoulders, but she sat there, frozen. At some point in the last torturous four years, she'd cut off her thicket of hair. It was short and bristly now.

"What the hell Granger? They'll be here any minute!"

A tear ran its course down the grime on her face. She looked him the eye suddenly.

"Theo Nott."

"Granger, please- "

"You're a Death Eater now."

"I'm begging you to get up. They'll kill you- "

But the sounds of apparition told him it was already too late. Jubilant cries from Death Eaters filled his ears, and suddenly the beautiful morning was filled with swirling black cloaks, and Granger was on her feet, wand out and, by Merlin, she could duel.

She shoved Theo aside and began to flick and arc her arms.

A flash of white blond in the fray, stood stock still. Draco. They both stood in horror as the member of the Golden Trio fought and fought and fought. More Death Eaters appeared and still she fought. But, Theo sought out Draco and they stood at the rear of the fight, confused. Where the hell was the Order?

Then it dawned on Draco as he watched Macnair have his throat slit, whilst she maintained a shield flawlessly.

"Theo." The grey eyes considered Theo's, full of a sickness. "She's a lamb. A sacrificial lamb."

As soon as the words left his mouth, their left forearms burnt. The Dark Lord was calling, better be quick and the Death Eaters aimed to kill.

"STOP!" Draco yelled loudly but no one listened and so Theo wordlessly killed a random lackey for effect. That made them all stop, including HER. "The Dark Lord will want her ALIVE, do you not think?" But Hermione had taken the moment of silence to kill Rabastan Lestrange.

"SEIZE HER!" And the force of ten or so experienced dark magic users rendered Granger a worn-out mess, bound and gagged, instead of dead and bleeding.

Avery stalked up and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her like a rag doll, as the others vanished, depositing her at Malfoy's feet.

"Nott, Malfoy, you can tell him why Rabastan is dead." The command was like sandpaper and Avery vanished, leaving corpses, the blood running into water. It was so clear. The blood curled and spiralled.

Granger was still once again, she had blood running down her forehead and was making a whimpering noise. Pathetic. The ropes were so tight around her wrists that her hands had gone pale.

Draco knelt, carefully sweeping his robes back, so they didn't touch the ground. Hermione observed Nott tenderly take Malfoy's wand and begin firing dark curses at the ground with it. Clever, they'd still get marks for participation.

"I'll ask you one. And once only Granger. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Hermione obstinately watched Theo. Killing Curse. Intestine removing curse. Imperius, Imperius, Imperius. Slicing Curse. Paralysis curse. Hermione looked away, her mind soaring away to the tiny cottage and underground basements of the Order Head Quarters. To the hospital wing where Ron lay.

And then her eyes glazed over and her head lolled back.

It was raining again, and the wind was bitter and regretful, screaming against the window panes. Theo ran his fingers through Draco's hair as they lay on the bed in Malfoy Manor, or what was left of it. The place was like Versailles now, enormous and thriving. The dining room smelt like rusty blood, the marble of the staircase was chipped and scuffed, and the gardens grew wild. The place was alive with screams and black drapes.

The newer wings were the beautiful ones, where you wanted to stay. Impressive statues and banqueting halls. Offices for high ranking Death Eaters, court rooms (purely for display) and reems of tiny flat style rooms, with en suites, for diplomats, Death Eaters or the unfortunate.

Theo and Draco had offices and rooms over there of course, but this was where Draco's heart lay. His childhood room, with the flaking plaster ceiling and tired bed. Theo had suggested getting a blood slave or house elf to clean it at first, or a simple 'Reparo' perhaps, but Draco refused. The Dark Lord would be curious to hear why the last remaining Malfoy was spending time away from court.

"Where do you reckon she is?" Theo barely heard the words. Draco flipped over and looked his partner in the eye.

"Theo?" Theo threw himself back on the bed and watched the trees outside whipping about. Even the sky was miserable, and all the flowers bowed their heads.

"I think we both know where she is." Suddenly the ceiling was more interesting than the Draco's face. Theo looked at it, the tear hot on his face. They were trapped, and this hellish world would never get better. There was no Chosen One and now the last sliver of hope they had was being disposed of as they lay in their king-sized bed.

Maybe it was time to run, Theo thought as he rolled over to catch the man he loved up in a heated kiss.

Hermione was scared. She had always though that she wouldn't fear death but suddenly she did. She was scared when she saw Dean Thomas in a cell. She was scared when she was ushered into a beautiful room with high arching windows. She was scared when she saw a chair sat high up. It was ornate, and she knew only one beast would sit upon it.

But she was most scared when an elegant young man swept into the room and sat upon it. Not a soul had seen him since the night- no. She would not let her resolve falter. A tiny voice at the back of her head told her he had used up Harry's magical core, hence the face lift.

"Face lift? Why Miss Granger, I think you would say this is more than a face lift."

Why was the room so bright? This was a place of darkness and wretchedness, yet the light flooded in and lit the room in a glow.

The man stepped out of the shadows draping the chair.

"Look upon the face of the monster."

Tom Riddle got nearer, and Hermione instinctively turned away.

"Look into the abyss."

Later, Hermione would remember how cold the floor was when she fell upon it. And how the hand which cupped her cheek was colder still.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen." She spat upon him.

"Delightful." Why did the Dark Lord have an accent from London? Monsters didn't HAVE accents. He wiped away the spit glob from his cheek with his sleeve and angled her face to look him in the eyes.

"Are you listening?" Hermione did not dare drop his gaze. "Good."

"Now, Miss Granger, do not lie to me, because I can see everything in that great mind of yours. You may have fooled Bellatrix, rest her twisted soul, but you don't fool me." His voice was crisp and he enuanciated every sharp ending.

Bellatrix was dead. Oh, thank God. Hermione let him hear that, she shouted it loud and clear in her mind, envisioning it reverberating around her skull.

"You have only proved me right in wondering why the Order left their most brilliant member for dead." He leaned in. "You never liked Molly Weasley did you?"

It wasn't Molly's fault. Even in her head the argument sounded weak, and she was sure he noticed she avoided the question.

"Perhaps not, but she knew the only person, the only soul, that could possibly draw away my best fighters from a battle would be you, the final member of the Golden Trio. And so, she let your worst nighmare come true."

We all decided. We ALL did. If the worst came to the worst, sacrifices had to be made and, so we made portkeys. To get people to safety.

"Your life for Bella's."

Hermione said nothing.

"It's all here, Miss Granger." A smile lilted his features. "Perhaps not the plans of the order, in fact I do believe reversible mind wipes were your creation, weren't they? But no what is left here, is, is", he stepped backwards and gestured at the wider space, "is pure resentment. You're tired of being treated like the clever little muggleborn, you're confused as to why you are fighting for a world which doesn't want you." He laughed, and it echoed. Hermione wished for the Cruciatus curse, anything but this.

"I don't want to waste magical blood Miss Granger. Somewhere along the road, we got a tad… disorientated."

Hermione laughed, the only sound she had made since she arrived. The murder of thousands, a mere disorientaition. She was sort of disppaointed when he ignored the barb, but she shook it off quickly. This was VOLDERMORT.

"So I offer you this. I am lacking in a, figurehead for lack of a better word to be an example to the public. They would love to see the great Hermione Granger working with the new government."

"Never." She couldn't believe it.

"Let me put it this way then. In addition to quelling up risings where your friends will DIE, you will also have what you always have wanted. Respect. Just like all I have ever wanted is power."

Looking back, Hermione filed the memory under 'Self-Preservation."

Hermione walked through the Ministry, her heels echoing around the dumbstruck room. Her robes were heavy and expensive and swept behind her. She tilted up her chin, like Tom had told her too. She reached a face in the crowd. Percy Weasley. He bowed his head, respectfully.

"Percy." She wanted to ask after Ron, who she had had admitted to 's as soon as she could manage, but she bit her tongue and instead took the file he handed her. It was on Muggleborn scholarships to Hogwarts. Tom had changed the entire curriculum. Neither of them wanted a child to ever feel isolated by Purebloods again. There was also a great deal of dark magic in there as well. Hermione would not lie to herself. The massacres she now represented were not old news, they were fresh and bleeding still, but people were desperate for a break, for the twisted form of peace Tom had given them. Besides there was no time to fight wars here, America was less rebellious but a lot bigger than Britain.

Taking the file, she walked to her office and shut the door, exhaling deeply. Theo was sat at her desk, feet up, look intently at his wand. It had been three months since Hermione was instated, and three months and two days since an Order Member, of whom looked suspiciously like George Weasley, had cast a spell that had blinded Draco in battle. Draco's hospital bed was opposite George's.

"Hello Minister."

Hermione smiled.

"How's Draco?"

"Fine, thank you."

He looks up stealing a glance as she files the report. Her hair is growing back.

"What do you want Minister?"

Minister Granger looks down into his eyes.

"I wanted to thank you."

END.