AN. This is an adopted fic from another FF writer. Original title is, too, 'Malevolence'. It's complete, but I'm making changes chapter by chapter. I have full permission to re-post this fic and take ownership.

Hermione Granger sat behind her desk, a smug smile gracing her full pink lips. She lightly fingered the parchment before her in appreciation. Today was the day she would send Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy to Azkaban. At 25 years of age, Hermione was a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic's Fair Muggle Practices Department. Her position was to ensure the fair treatment of muggles within the Wizarding business world. Often, she had to investigate several Wizarding empires to guarantee that muggles were not blackmailed, under the imperius curse, or threatened into business dealings by Wizards. The war was over now and the light side had won. Many Death Eaters had been sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban, but there were some who escaped the clutches of the dreadful prison. Much to Hermione's dismay, Zabini and Malfoy were two of the lucky ones.

She had rallied and petitioned after the war to have them sentenced. She succeeded, but only marginally. Each snake was sentenced to two years in the ghastly prison, thanks to her. But she wanted more. She wanted them to receive The Kiss from the Dementors, but they'd schemed and bribed their way out of it. She knew they were still searching for the person who sent them to Azkaban, but they had been unsuccessful. They would kill her if they found out. She had no doubt in her mind about that. During the war, they had killed, crucio'd and tortured. They were active participants in the Voldemort's ranks. But they were rich and powerful, therefore avoided prison, other than a measly two years. The men were sentenced at age 18, and released at age 20. They were no different now than they were prior to their sentence. They were cold and impassive as ever; cruel men who wandered the streets of the Wizarding and Muggle world; cruel men who owned the most powerful empire in the Wizarding world; cruel men who deserved to be locked away forever. But not for long.

As the lead investigator within her department, she was obviously the first choice in the upcoming audit of MZ Industries, and she couldn't be happier about it. She knew that the cunning Slytherins would produce a fabricated document illustrating their dealings with the muggle world in the building of their empire. But she had an informant. And this informant provided her with the very real document that accurately described their highly unethical management of muggles. This document showed that they threatened, blackmailed, and imperius'd countless muggles into signing over their hotels and land to MZ Industries, allowing the men to develop their own Hotels and Restaurants at minimal financial loss. But they covered that up. And without her informant, she would have only suspected. But not have the evidence. Allowing them to evade prison once again.

But she knew. She had the evidence she needed. She could march down to the Auror Department right there and then and turn them over. But she wanted to play them, first, like they had played the Wizarding world. She wanted to see their faces when they realised that she, Hermione J. Granger, brought them down. So she would go to the scheduled meeting, listen to them, allow them to present her with the fictitious documents, let them believe she was fooled, and then she would strike, and watch their faces crumble.

Hermione stood, fixed her silk blouse, and straightened her pencil skirt. Today was the day she would bring Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy down for good.

Blaise sipped on his tumbler of Fire Whiskey as he watched Draco pace the room. Draco had been anxious all week for the meeting with the mudblood. They had the appropriate documents prepared some time ago, excellently manipulated. But the mudblood was good at her job, as much as they hated to admit it. But they had a perfectly fabricated document that showed their 'fair' dealings with the Muggle World. She didn't stand a chance. Yet, Draco remained anxious. Blaise wasn't entirely sure why. He didn't question it; he just watched him pace the room, as he sat on the lush armchair, tumbler in hand.

Blaise considered Draco's anxiety for a moment. If the mudblood found out the truth, they would be sent right back to Azkaban. Their two years there had been horrendous. It was certainly not a place they wished to return to. They had been lucky to escape the prison, bar two years. But they only saw the inside of the dank walls as someone had been petitioning anonymously to have them sentenced. They did not know who, but they were still searching. They would find the culprit, and would kill him, as they had killed so many others during the war. Blaise and Draco did not necessarily enjoy killing. It wasn't a thrill, nor a hobby. It was a transaction of sorts; a means to an end. They felt no remorse or sympathy. They just killed. They'd never participated in the torturing. It wasn't to their taste. They got no enjoyment or satisfaction from it. But they didn't mind the killing. It was just a simple curse.

Draco checked his watch for the umpteenth time.

"Ten minutes." Draco stated.

Ten minutes until the mudblood arrived. Ten minutes until they would have her sanction their documents. In ten minutes time, they would have the authority to expand their empire across the Americas. But they needed the ultimate mudblood to do so. And it made them sick to their stomachs.