A/N Plot: Warnings of dark themes, dark Draco. There will be Dramione but it's going to take a bit of buildup. Post-War fic but it's going back to the dark side. Enjoy.

Malfoy's Lose Millions

She stared at the decorative title, the latest news sweeping through Britain like the plague. Not an hour after the headline release in the profit she could hear people everywhere gossiping about the latest news, even her own friends.

"It serves him right," Ron said, shaking his head at the paper as he threw it into a garbage bin. "After everything he put us through during the war-"

"Malfoy didn't actually put us through anything during the war," she corrected, shooting him a disapproving glare. "He was just part of the side that we fought against."

"He's a Death Eater."

"There aren't really Death Eater's anymore Ronald, not after Voldemort fell and they dispersed. The rogue Death Eaters can hardly be considered that, especially now that they are trying to alter the Dark Mark into something new. They won't cause an uprising though. Too few of them are left free."

"Still," Ron grumbled, looping a strong arm across Hermione's slim shoulders, "He's still a prat, the lot of them are. The fact that Lucius got off with so little punishment is crime enough."

"He's on house arrest for the next three years."

"Which he could be spending in Azkaban," he corrected, shooting her a disapproving glare in return. "He got off so easy- probably bribed the judge."

"I wouldn't be surprised," she agreed, hopping over a puddle in the street. It was getting dark, and while she had no worries of who might be crawling around Diagon Alley these days Hermione couldn't wait to get home to her shared apartment with Ron. After the long day, and the outrageous amount of gossiping she heard around town from various witches and wizards, all she wanted to do was escape the drama of the Malfoy's. Why did everything have to be about them? They got their five seconds of fame during the war.

"They spent so much money saving that pathetic ba-"

"Ronald."

"Right. They spent so much money trying to save Lucius from Azkaban that they're going to go bankrupt now, despite their fortune."

"They also had to pay medical bills," Hermione muttered, thinking back to an article some months ago about Malfoy himself. "Remember, Malfoy has some sort of problem. They put him in rehab. The papers declared him batty."

"And Narcissa's barely been heard of since the initial trial we testified at," Ron recalled. "That was over six months ago, a few months after the war ended."

"Yeah," she agreed, stepping up into the local floo system. They didn't want to apprate, not with all the defects in the system right now. It was so unsafe to apparate these days, with new countering spells popping up all the time. "Let's go home,"

Hermione never found work to be overly trying. While her job at the Ministry might challenge some, intellectually she was overly qualified for the position in the law office and often times she found herself wandering to her dream job, one that paid far less. It wasn't a crime to want to do something that isn't necessarily financially beneficial, but it would help magical creatures everywhere.

Ron wouldn't hear it though, not now. Not when Britain was so far in debt that they could barely pay their workers. Her job paid well enough, and any job was good this day and age. If she tried to change careers it could financially destroy them. Even as a war hero, it was hard to find work, and she wouldn't feel right taking the job from someone who needed it just as bad.

It was almost funny, Ron being the reasonable one thinking about money. One would think those rolls would be reversed. But she knew he was struggling just as bad, what with the Auror department suffering lost wages as well. He felt the strain of money just as much as everyone else.

If Harry hadn't donated the majority of his money, and the donations and gifts he'd received since Voldemort's fall, their situations might've been different. But good old Harry gave what he could away. He and Ginny made just enough to survive like everyone else.

Glancing around her cramped office she couldn't help thinking about the article in the paper again. If even the Malfoy's couldn't keep financially sound in this recess what hope did everyone else have? Sure, she knew their black market work was completely shut down, and most of the legal business they did went south after the war. With the bills they paid for Malfoy, along with whatever they paid to keep Lucius out of Azkaban, she was surprised that Britain wasn't in slightly better condition. They probably could've paid everyone's wages for a week.

Her brow crinkled, little lines forming around her mouth as she frowned. Malfoy.

She hadn't thought of the bloke in a long time. A couple months ago Witch Weekly and several other gossip magazines posted an article regarding his wellbeing, and it didn't sound every good. But nothing popped up about his passing, and no more articles were printed. Maybe whatever happened to him just blew over.

Subconsciously her fingers brushed over the scar on her inner arm, the crewed words Bellatrix once carved into her flesh still a reminder of the Malfoy family. If anything, she believed at least Narcissa might be redeemable. She did do something that horrible day.

Still, she couldn't help wondering what happened to him. He was a major pain in her side for the better part of school and she couldn't imagine he'd gotten better. War hadn't humbled him, not if anything the papers printed the days after the war was any indication as to how he had changed. If anything, he was still the arrogant prick who used to strut through the halls of Hogwarts.

Someone tapped on the door, and Hermione peered back to see Ron lounging against the frame, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. "Ready for bed?"

Hermione frowned, noting the flush in his cheeks. "Something wrong?"

He crossed the room, coming to massage her shoulder gently. "I got a call from one of the guys at work. Something came up, but they found someone else to come in."

"Nothing too serious I hope?"

He shrugged, offering her his hand as she moved to her feet. "No, of course not."

"I don't think you're telling me the truth Ronald. Did Harry call?"

"No, if Harry called I'd be out on the field in a heartbeat, even if they did find someone else." He smiled at her, trying to lessen the worry in his eyes. "You know us; we can't go into battle without one another."

"Then who called?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably, as though he didn't really want to say. "Um, Blaise did. He said it was urgent."

"But wasn't Blaise fired for insubordination a few weeks ago?"

"Some of the others are checking it out Hermione. We still have to be on guard if anyone calls, and I don't think he would call for no reason."

"But do you trust him?" she pressed, crossing her arms. "He almost got you killed."

"It was an accident!" Ron groaned, throwing back his head as he turned from her. "How many times must I remind you of that? Blaise took most of the blow. You might not trust him, but I don't think it was a trap. He can't help it if everyone we are trying to capture happens to be a Death Eater."

"His former group."

Ron grunted, rolling his eyes as he turned back. "I can't change his past. You just don't trust him because of the case."

"You didn't see the paperwork Ron! He's as bad as Malfoy! I wouldn't trust him with anything, least of all my life." She clenched her fists, counting to ten before she said anything else. "I know he saved you all from the attack, but he's still a git. I don't think you should trust him."

"I didn't go on patrol did I?" he sighed, crossing his arms. "I knew you'd have a fit. Finnegan went instead, though I really should be the one going. He's not the best shot."

Hermione suppressed her grin, thinking of the times Ron's aim hadn't been its best. "And you are?"

"I didn't work a full shift today either."

"I see."

She let him wrap an arm around her, gently guiding her from the room. His desk lay hidden beneath magazines and documents that she didn't really think were related to work. Turning out the lights to the room, she sighed. At least he was home tonight.

They woke to the sounds of banging.

Ron was up first, agile after all his time working with the Auror's department. Hermione moved a half step behind him, both moving like ghosts down the steps of the cramped home. It was just like the war again, when they snuck around.

The sound came from their front door. Someone was shouting on the other side. Through the window above it Hermione noted that it was storming outside as she descended the steps.

The person on the other side screamed for Ron. Hermione's heart dropped as she recognized the voice.

"What is he doing here?" she hissed, tightening her grip on her wand. Dark locks of hair fell forward into her eyes, highlighting the nervousness in her features.

"I don't know," Ron breathed back, moving to unlock the doors. She slapped his hand away, eyes growing ever wider.

"Why would he stop here?"

"Let me in Weasley!" Blaise called from outside, though they could just hear his voice over the London storm. Rain seemed to be coming down in sheets. "Open up! Tell Hermione to shove it!"

She scowled. He knew she hated when he used her first name. She still didn't trust him that much.

Ron ignored her, pulling open the door before she could get another word in. Rain streamed in through the open space, dowsing them both through to the bone. Blaise stepped in, dragging someone along beside him.

Instantly, she tightened. It was one thing having Blaise appear unannounced in the middle of the night during a storm. It was another to bring someone along. She moved away and flicked on more lights as Ron shut the door, the warmth in the room growing as she lit the fireplace. He dragged the person to the center of the living room and dropped him. As Hermione turned back, her heart nearly stopped.

Malfoy.

She hadn't seen him in ages, but she could never miss the mop of blond hair, the nearly alabaster skin, or the lanky limbs. But the similarities between the boy she used to go to school with and the one on the floor stopped there.

He was older now, grown into his height and build. There were faint scars across his cheeks, and what remained of a shirt hung loosely around his bleeding chest. There were cuts there too, long lines that dragged down his torso and ribs. The trousers were still mostly intact, though she could see that he'd sustained wounds on his legs as well.

Against her better judgement she crouched down beside him, summoning a cloth to wipe some of the blood from his face. It was then that she noticed the deep gash in his arm, over the age old tattoo he once wore to support a madman. The tattoo was nearly unrecognizable beneath the cuts and blood, but Hermione knew it was there.

She ghosted her fingers beneath his nose, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Behind her, she started listening again to what Ron and Blaise were saying.

"-in my house! You should've taken him to the Ministry, or at least St. Mungo's! We've been looking for him for months!"

"I didn't know he was going to show up tonight," Blaise hissed in return. "The call I gave you, I knew there were some delving in the dark arts still-"

"And he's one of them," Hermione interrupted, pulling her hands away from him. She glanced over her shoulder, meeting the eyes of both drenched men in the entranceway. "He's barely breathing. He needs to go to St. Mungo's and a healer immediately."

"I can't exactly take him there Granger," Blaise snapped, balling up his hands. "If I thought it was a good idea to take him there I would've!"

"Well he'll die here!" she snapped, turning back to the blond. She pressed the cloth against his arm again, watching the red stains slowly appear on her rug. "He's losing blood too fast. It's advanced magic."

"You shouldn't've brought that bastard here," Ron hissed, behind her again. "I don't care if he dies-"

"Ronald."

"-get him out of my house! He's a bad omen. He's been working with them."

"I don't think he was," Blaise said quietly, his footfalls growing closer. Hermione barely bothered glancing at him when he crouched down beside her, her mind focused on the task at hand. She needed to seal up the gaping wound in his arm before he bled out, and then she could worry about the numerous other cuts. He at least needed to be alive enough to move to St. Mungo's. "I think he was the test subject."

Hermione momentarily paused, casting a glance back at Ron. "A test subject for what?"

"It's complicated Granger-"

"Oh, don't even start with me Blaise!" she growled, jabbing him in the chest with her wand. "It'd three in the morning and I work in five hours. You brought a bleeding ferret in through a rainstorm and now you're trying to brush me off and not tell me anything? No, you brought him here, not to St. Mungo's or the authorities. Start talking!"

Blaise glanced between the three, his eyes constantly focused on Malfoy every other second. Hermione, though not a healer, knew enough from the war to save him from death. So far she seemed to be doing a perfect job.

"It's complicated-"

"Oh it always is," she growled.

Sighing, Blaise sat back and slumped against the wall. "I got fired for insubordination Granger. Did Ron ever tell you why?" He didn't give her time to answer. "I refused to turn Malfoy over to the authorities. I lost my job and got into legal trouble for it. I thought I could still help him."

"Yeah? Well it looks like he's been through hell and back. Who gouges out someone's arm of all things?"

Ron and Blaise exchanged a glance, and she had to restrain herself to keep from throwing something at them. Now really wasn't the time for secrets.

"It's a long story Hermione," Ron began awkwardly, rubbing his head. "Don't get me wrong, I don't want him here anymore than you. But it's complicated. We've been looking for him."

"I thought he was home with his parents," she grunted, moving her wand over his arm again. The wound was slowly closing, but for some reason she couldn't seal the wound, no matter what she did.

"I think Lucius sent him away," Blaise began. "He hasn't been close to his dad in quite some time. About a month ago Draco went out to do some shopping for his parents, and he made one more stop to a shop in Diagon Alley, one he rarely went into. He didn't come out."

"And let me guess, you just found him tonight."

"Not on purpose!" Blaise cried, looking between the couple. "We got a tipoff from someone about a rogue Death Eater meeting. Malfoy happened to be attending."

"Oh great, he's an avid dark arts participant too."

"I don't think he's a willing one," Blaise snapped, before something outside drew his attention. Ron met his eyes, watching the other man step towards their front door, his hands tightening on his drenched wand. "I think I've overstayed my welcome."

"You both have," Ron grunted, stepping into the other man's path. "You were being followed, weren't you? And whoever was following you knows both of you are here now." His hands reached out, snapping tightly around his former co-worker's arms. "And you thought it was a good idea to leave him here?!"

"I need a place for him to recoup so I can question him," Blaise snapped, shaking off the ginger. "We can't take him to questioning yet at the Ministry, he's too important."

"All the more reason to take him!" the other man cried. "He's a hazard anywhere else. And he could very well be putting us in danger just by being here if he works with the other side."

"The Ministry will get in the way on this one. Trust me Ron, just on this one thing. We need to be able to ask Draco questions outside of the law. He's resilient now, different. Working with the rogues has changed him, and not for the better. He'll never cooperate once the law has him."

"That's what veritaserum is for," Ron grumbled.

Blaise began to shake his head, but was cut off midway when Hermione gasped. Both men spun around, her knuckles practically white on the wand.

"I think he might be waking up."

In less than a heartbeat Blaise was by her side, hauling her up off the floor. His fingers dug painfully into her arm. "Stay away from him then!"

She tore her arm out of his grip, eyes alight with fire. "You brought him here!"

Blaise started to shake his head, glancing towards the front door one more time. "I can't stay anymore; they will be looking. They are tracking my scent, not Malfoy's. They probably won't even realize he's here tonight."

"Who is tracking you?" Ron asked again, clenching his wand.

Glancing around, the Italian wet his lips. For the first time Hermione realized his legs were shaking. "The Death Eaters."

Ron immediately dropped his wand, resorting to a different method of rage. His hands found the Italians throat, using the tight grip to throw him back into the wall. Blaise gasped on impact, a fickle cry of pain escaping his lips.

Hermione intervened before he could go again, eyes turning to look at Blaise. "You shouldn't have led them here. Our address is secret for a reason."

"All the better reason for me to leave," he said, struggling to his feet. "I'll come back for Draco, I will. But I need to lead them off the trail first, away from your home. They don't know that you're here yet."

"And Malfoy?" she snapped, glancing at the bloody blond on the floor. He hadn't moved again, though his hand tightening earlier startled her. "You can't seriously think he can stay here."

Blaise held up his hands, pleading with them. "I'll be back in the morning if one of you can just stay and watch him. I'll take him I promise. But he needs to come with me."

"If what you two talked about is true, he's a criminal."

"And a criminal isn't staying in our home Zabini," Ron snapped coldly. "Take him to your Manor. Or better yet, his."

"I can't. They will check our homes first. Mine even. I'm sorry to do this to you, but I must." He met Hermione's eyes a moment, the desperation in his actions leaking through. "He's not himself. They've changed him, ruined his mind. He thinks the war is still going on."

"How is that even possible?" Hermione asked, skepticism laced in her every word. "The war ended a year ago. No one is that deluded."

Blaise pointed a finger, eyes growing large. "But they weren't ready for it to be over. And they are coming back. They want a fight and this time they are ready to win. They were trying the experiment, and Draco was the first victim. He's really convinced that the war is happening. That's why he can't go to St. Mungo's because they will think he's insane."

"You sound insane," she sighed, her eyes glancing at the blond on the floor again.

"It's worse than it appears," Blaise continued, the lightening from outside brightening the room for a moment. There was blood on his hands too Hermione noticed. "He's not just the test subject. He's the package deal. Not only does he believe the war is back, but he truly belives everything Voldemort said. They changed his way of thinking."

"But even Malfoy didn't support Voldemort," Ron interjected, eyebrows furrowing. "He might be a git but he's not completely stupid."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Blaise cried, his face splitting into a grin. "Draco doesn't just believe he's in the war still, he believes he really is a loyal Death Eater." The Italian chuckled darkly. "And he's going to try to kill you."

A/N: Thanks for reading. I haven't typed a new fanfiction in a long time, but I thought I would give it a go. I found this story from 2014 on my laptop. It will be a Dramione story but it will take a bit to build up. If you like it shoot me a review and let me know if I should continue! I'm rusty on my writing so I'm not sure how well this will go over. Thanks for reading!