Hermione is in the middle of scrounging through her kitchen for something to pass as breakfast when she hears the tap of a beak on her window.

She looks over, expecting to see an owl from Ron or harry but to her surprise it's neither. This owl is larger and almost completely brown.

She opens the window. "Hello, now who do you belong to?"

She tries to pet him but he ruffles his wings indignantly and she huffs, taking the letter from his mouth instead. "I'd give you something to eat but I'm overdo to go grocery shopping."

He stares at her expectantly but she turns her attention to the letter. The wax seal has the letter 'M' stamped on it.

She's had enough correspondents with the ministry to recognize their seal and one isn't it. She can't think of anyone she knows with a name starting with 'M'.

Thinking of the Ministry, she'd better hurry or she'll be late as usual.

She opens up the letter and reads it as she continues her search for something to eat.

Miss Granger,

I am writing to request your services for a project I am unwilling to divulge over paper. You will be well compensated for your work and in exchange I expect complete secrecy.

Write back with the time and date you can meet and the manor today.

With regards,

Lucius Malfoy

Hermione chokes on a gasp.

After Voldemort was defeated, Lucius Malfoy spent five years in azkaban. He was released not even a week ago. What could he possibly want with her? In what world would that man deign to speak to her?

"This has to be a joke," she says with a half laugh. With no one around to share in her disbelief, she looks to the owl who is still perched on her window sill.

Annoyed, she shuts the window causing the owl to peck at it indignantly, demanding to be let in. Shaking her head she strides out of the kitchen. She's going to be late, she'll worry about this later.

Rushing out the front door she doesn't notice the flapping of wings behind her until she's reached the telephone booth.

She glares at the owl. Clearly he--or she?--has been given orders to return with her response. Grumbling, she digs through her purse and pulls out a scrap of parchment, scrawling two letters on it.

NO

She doesn't wait for the ink to dry, instead crumbling it into a ball and tossing it at the bird who catches it deftly and flaps away.

As soon as she enters the ministry, a frazzled looking assistant hurries over to her with a cup of tea in hand.

"Thank Merlin you're finally here Miss Granger," he says. "The minister has cleared out an office for you to use and wished me to extend his thanks for agreeing to consult for us on this case."

"No problem at all," Hermione replies, waving away the comment. "Lead the way and I'll get started right away."

After she's comfortably seated in a dusty office Hermione pulls open the extensive file of an open case on a fugitive death eater. It's been five years since the way but a few of Voldemorts henchmen have still managed to elude capture.

With elections coming up this year, the minister has been taking some heat on the open cases which lead to him hiring Hermione for a pair of fresh eyes to see if she has any ideas what rocks they might be hiding under.

She puzzles away, loosing herself in statistics and habits.

She's finished her reports for about half the stack of open cases when a knock interrupts her train of thought.

"Come in," she says, tucking away some of the more sensitive files.

Harry enters with a smile on his face.

He looks just the same as he did when they were in school, unruly hair and all. The only thing about his appearance that differs is the scar running from his cheekbone to his jaw on the left side of his face.

He got it a few years ago on one of his missions as an auror.

"Hey Hermione, you didn't say you'd be here today!"

"I assumed you would be too busy working."

"I demand an apology," he says, feigning indignation. "I also brought you food since I know you probably didn't have breakfast. Or Lunch."

Hermione glances at the clock, surprised to see hours have passed. It's nearly time for her to call it. Suddenly aware of how hungry she is, she stands and goes around her desk to thank him profusely. "You're heaven sent. I'm sorry I didn't tell you it slipped my mind. Thank you, thank you a million times I haven'teaten since last night."

If two slices on toast can even count as a meal that is. She reallly needs to go grocery shopping.

He shrugs, grinning at her reaction. "I needed to get out of behind my desk anyway."

"The minister is really cracking down, isn't he? If he was smart he'd have you heading the charge on his most high profile fugitives. It would make him look good."

"He is smart, that's why he's put me behind a desk for the foreseeable future. My face on the front page of newspapers is not good for him, he already thinks I'm after his job."

"You are after his job," Hermione points out, pulling a sandwich from the bag and taking a bite.

Harry shrugs sheepishly. "It's not as if I'm trying to take it from him, if it was offered to me I wouldn't say no, that's all."

Hermione bumps his shoulder. "It's okay to want things Harry. You would be brilliant at it. You're a natural born leader and your case closure rate is perfect--unheard of for an auror. "

Harry smiles. She's the only person he's told about his ambitions to become the Minister of Magic and Hermione has been nothing but supportive, something he doesn't think he will ever be able to thank her enough for.

"When you talk, people listen. I'll never understand how people continually underestimate you," she says, mostly to herself. "Oh! The strangest thing happened this morning."

"Tell me."

She takes another bite of her sandwich and hands him the letter from her purse. She watches his reaction, his mouth opening and closing three times before he speaks.

"What?" he says intellectually.

"I take it you didn't get one."

"Unbelievable. Even after years in azkaban he still think he can boss people around. You're not going, are you?"

"Or course not, but it does have me terribly curious."

"If he's asking for your help he must be desperate."

She raises her eyebrows, amused.

"I'm not saying your an idiot!" he rushes to correct. "You're brilliant! It's just the Malfoys are gits with all their pureblood surpremacy nonsense."

"Relax, I know what you meant."

They stray into other topics until the clock chimes, signally the end of Hermione's allotted time here. After hugging Harry goodbye and promising to go over for dinner at his house tomorrow, she hurries out.

When she gets home, she is shocked to find Lucius Malfoy standing on the front steps of her small apartment.

She lives in a muggle neighborhood so he is getting more than a few glances from her neighbors because of his clothes.

She almost turns around and walks away but instead lifts her chin, refusing to be intimidated at her own home.

She stops a few feet away from him and he stares at her with an unreadable expression. She takes this opportunity to look him up and down. For a man newly released from Azkaban, he's surprisingly well put together.

He looks as he always had, except older of course . . . and there is something in his eyes too, like a shadow of something hollow inside.

"Mr. Malfoy," she greets, gripping the wand in her pocket. He wouldn't try something with muggles around but the wand is a comfort. in fact she's almost certian a part his release was an agreement that he would be denied a wand for five years.

"Miss Granger, your response to my letter was unfavorable. I've come to change your mind."

"By threatening me?"

"By asking you to name your price. Money is no problem, as you well know."

She scoffs. After the war the Malfoy family was allowed to keep their wealth, thanks to Narcissa saving Harry's life.

"What is it you want me to do?" she asks, curiousity getting the better of her.

"I need you to do some muggle research. Research family trees and report to me relevant facts."

"A muggle-born doing muggle research. I'm sure you have people for that sort of thing."

"As I wrote in the letter, we want this to be kept absolutely confidential."

"Your reputation can't be worse off than it is now," she reasons. "Don't trust your own people to do this research?"

"I only employ the best and no one can do muggle research better than a muggle-born. Miss Granger, I implore you to reconsider."

"You're not going to tell me why you want me to research muggle bloodlines, but if it was something sinister I should hope you wouldn't come knocking on my door for help."

"You have my word there is nothing sinister happening here. My only concern is for my family."

And then she blinks and sees something akin to fear flash across Mr. Malfoy's face. She tilts her head. "You want me to do research and that's it?"

"Yes."

Merlin help her.

"Okay."