Hello, friends. Yes, this is the Dramione I've been promising. Lucky you. Fair warning, there is plenty of foul language and lots of - uh, graphic content. I'll try to keep it to a minimum, but I don't think this story is going to turn out anything like what I first planned.
I am also currently working on three other stories at the moment, only one of which is fan fiction. If the updates to this are slow, it's because Real Life and Tom Riddle are getting in the way.

Anyway, read, review (PLEASE!), and tell me what you think of what I've got here.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. . .well, I own chocolate, but I'm not getting paid for that. And I promise I'm not taking over JKR's territory. I just gambol on it. . . .like a bunny. A sabre-toothed bunny.

Chapter 1 - The Plot

Hermione Granger was a lot of things: Activist, realist, witch, barrister, columnist, Potions Mistress, and best friend to the Boy Who Lived Twice. What she was not, however, was happy. No.

Hermione Granger was royally pissed off.

She'd hoped that lunch and a coffee would help in her bid to rethink the entire situation, but so far nothing had worked. Even the Calming Draught she'd begged off the now-Ginny Potter wasn't having much of an effect. It had worked for about ten minutes, but she reasoned that was because, in those ten minutes, no one had mentioned the reason a migraine was building between her temples.

He was to blame. That barrel-chested, gorilla-armed, red-headed tosser, known by many a wizard as Ronald Weasley. At the moment, Hermione was exceedingly angry. Yes, she was always mad at him for one reason or another, but this was the icing on a week-long cake, the ingredients consisting of tomfoolery in the Department of Mysteries, wrecking a very expensive project being undertaken by the Unspeakables, trying to cover it up, blaming the Unspeakables when the cover-up plot failed, and last, but most certainly not least, pleading with the one and only Harry Potter – whose very name could get a person off murder charges – to make a case for him that wouldn't result in being kicked off the Magical Law Enforcement. Harry had almost agreed to do it, which bothered Hermione just a little bit, but not nearly as much as the thought that Ron would actually try to make use of his best friend's name.

"How could he?" she muttered under her breath. "How the hell could he?"

It set her thinking. Ron was usually the one behind Hermione's temper, but even he wasn't the type to just go cashing in on his best friend's name. For a brief moment Hermione wondered if he'd been Confunded or Imperio'd while down there with the Unspeakables, but she shook away the thought almost as soon as it entered her head. Who would Imperio Ron? Yes, he had access to Harry, but it had been a good nine years since the Battle of Hogwarts. There weren't that many Death Eaters still roaming around, and certainly not dangerous ones.

Hermione's eyes narrowed in thought. There might be no one else about who cared about getting revenge on Harry; that was what the Malfoys had said. There might be no one else. But there could be. Hermione abruptly stopped in the hall, shaking her head sharply.

Had she become paranoid?

She looked about her, eyeing the walls of the Ministry complex thoughtfully. It wouldn't be impossible, she rationalized. There was a reason they had called him Mad-Eye Moody. Hermione huffed and resumed the brisk walk to her office on the fourth floor. This was ridiculous; she wasn't going mad, and there wasn't a lingering Death Eater plot to kill Harry. They'd have found out by now. . .one would hope.

She took the last flight of stairs, preferring the exercise to the jerky motions of the Ministry lifts. Deep in thought, Hermione almost missed it when a portly body came barreling down the stairs at a speed that almost knocked her over. There was a bright flash of light, and the figure was thrust past Hermione, and into the wall opposite her, crumpling into a heap at her feet.

Well, that escalated quickly.

She bent down to examine the face belonging to the outsized figure, and nearly leapt back in alarm. She hadn't anticipated seeing him. Well, maybe at some sort of obscure Ministry function; he was an Unspeakable, it would only make sense to see him there. Not here, though, not up on this level. Hermione turned back to see a man standing at the top of the stairs, his robes identifying him as an Auror.

"Sorry about that, miss," he said, keeping his wand ready.

Hermione frowned. "I'm sure you had a valid reason."

"Fugitive," the Auror said. "Auror Potter told us to keep an eye on him; he might have some useful information, Potter said."

"Information about what?"

"I'm afraid that's classified, miss," said the Auror simply, coming down the stairs. "At least, it would be if I knew. But I don't."

Hermione nodded. "Okay. But why is he here? Shouldn't you be on the MLE level?"

The Auror shrugged. "He spoke to Potter, said he wanted a barrister. Potter asked who, and he said you, miss."

"Me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Why me?"

The Auror shrugged again. "I dunno," he repeated.

Hermione huffed. She so did not need this today. There was enough on her plate trying to keep Ron out of jail without resorting to using War Hero status (though it would probably come to that anyway), but adding another Unspeakable to the mix was hardly going to make things better. Still, he had permission from Harry, which meant it was important. Harry was still her best friend and naturally kept fully abreast of everything on her plate – one of the hazards of being friends with Hermione Granger – and never in his life would he consider asking her to take time away from one case for another, not if it weren't absolutely vital.

Hermione looked down at the unconscious form. "Right. Well, let's get him into my office, Auror – "

"Arthur Stein," he said, holding out a hand.

Hermione shook it absently, mind on the case in front of her. "Right. Auror Stein. In my office, we'll wake him up and see what he has to say – if anything." She understood Harry's concern, but now?

The Auror simply grunted and lifted the unconscious man with a Mobilicorpus, floating him along up the stairs and towards Hermione's office. She juggled her keys and her bag, trying to find the right one. It was a distinctly Muggle practice, and her co-workers didn't understand, but, for whatever reason, it made Hermione feel sane and safe. Safer than just warding. Inside, they positioned him in a chair, bound him, and Hermione set about making tea. It was best to have something calming for the fellow, particularly if he was so jumpy he'd tried to run before she'd even got there. When the drink was prepared, she nodded to the Auror, and he performed the Ennervate. The pudgy man's eyes flew open, and he began to panic.

"Sam," Hermione said soothingly, leaned against her desk, arms crossed. "Sam, look at me."

Sam didn't appear to have heard her. Sweat formed on his temples, his breathing became erratic, and Hermione could swear she heard a terrified whimper.

"Sam Baristwyth!" she said sharply.

He snapped to attention. His graying hair was damp, and his slight double chin waggled as he trembled. "Granger," he moaned. "Granger. Granger, they're going to kill me!"

"No one is going to kill you, Sam," Hermione said gently, putting her hands over his. "No one is going to get to you. Not here. Tell me what's wrong."

He recommenced hyperventilating, looking about Hermione's office, as though it were trying to eat him alive. "I – I – I overheard them," he finally managed to say, his voice taking on the quality of a man who had heard terrifying things. "Granger, I heard them say they'd do it."

"Heard who say what, Sam," she said. "You have to tell me."

"Weasley heard it, too," Sam said in a stronger voice. "Weasley heard them, that's why the project was destroyed. They wanted it to look like he'd done it, to get him sacked and on his own. We're an easier bunch to pick off that way, you know."

Something twisted in Hermione's gut, and she was suddenly no longer angry at Ron. "Sam, who? Who did you hear, Sam?"

Sam closed his eyes and recited: "Pansy Parkinson, Kevin Didalgo, Mary Rutsin, and Edmund Zabini. All of them Unspeakables."

"What did you hear them say, Sam?" Hermione prodded.

He shook his head, tears of fear forming at the corners of his eyes. "They're going to kill me. If I tell you, they'll kill me. I told Potter, but Potter said he'd have to cross-examine them, but you can't because they'll kill me."

Hermione released the ropes holding Sam in place, and thrust a cup of tea into his hand. "Drink this, Sam, you'll feel better." If the Calming Draught was strong enough. She waited for him to take a few timid sips, formulating a plan to proceed in her mind. An idea presented itself, and she latched on. Kneeling in front of him, Hermione took his free hand in her own and said, "Sam, no one is going to get you."

He nodded, pained. "Oh, but they will, Granger. They will."

"That's not possible, Sam," she soothed. "You're the most powerful Unspeakable down there, and you're a pat wizard to boot. They wouldn't be brave enough to try."

Sam sat forward, his hazel eyes tearing again. "Granger, you have to believe me."

"I do believe you, Sam," she'd said. "I believe you whole-heartedly."

He slumped forward, the shattered breaths indicating that he was, if not crying, at least prepared to. Hermione leaned back against her desk, thinking hard. Parkinson, Didalgo, Rutsin, and Zabini. Only two surnames did she recognize, and only one person had she been with at school. This meant that the others were either much older or much younger. Hermione was betting on the latter. Perhaps a visit to the Zabinis was in order, though exactly what she was going to ask Blaise Zabini, Hermione wasn't sure. Her attention was drawn back to Sam when he lifted his head.

"I'll tell you, Granger, but I need protection."

"You tell me what it is," she said, "and I'll speak to Harry."

He leaned forward; the Calming Draught was clearly working. "I think they're taking orders from another, but I heard Parkinson, Zabini, Didalgo, and Rutsin discussing rather detailed plans for a terrorist plot on the Ministry."

Hermione's heart sank. She hated terrorist plots, not only because of the hundreds of people they tended to hurt in one form or another, but it was almost impossible to pinpoint where they originated and who was doing the dealing. "Our Ministry, Sam?"

He nodded. "That wasn't all, though."

Shit. "There's more to it?"

"Palace of Westminster," Sam said shakily.

Hermione sank to her knees. "Palace of Westminster?" Two governments at the same time. Clearly somebody with plenty of brains and money was behind this. "They're planning to cripple the whole country."

Sam nodded. "They have to be working on orders," he whispered. "Granger, they have to be. They may be Unspeakables, but Parkinson's a twit, Didalgo and Rutsin wouldn't do it otherwise, and Zabini. . .he'd be in it for the fame."

Hermione nodded, thinking. How many people did she know of with the brains, money, and balls to try something like this? Purebloods may still be Purebloods, but a good number of them had learnt their lesson after the Third Wizarding War. Could it be someone on the Continent? They had been quiet since the end of the First War in 1945; when Grindelwald fell, those backing him had lost everything, just as those supporting Voldemort had.

"Granger, what do we do?"

Hermione sighed. "We find out who's supporting this plot financially, and we get them to tell us what's going on. It could be any terrorist group in the world, or it could be a rising Dark Lord. We'll have to pull some strings and ask around. In the meantime, Sam," she said, taking his hands, "I'm going to speak to Harry, and see if we can't get you protection. Is there anyone else who overheard the plot? Anyone besides you and Ron?"

He nodded. "Astoria Mult. Find her, Granger. She's a sweet girl, and they'll want her dead so she doesn't talk."

Hermione nodded. "We'll find her, Sam. You just stay here. I'll go speak to Harry."

"Be careful, Granger," he whimpered.

"I'm always careful, Sam," she reassured him. She nodded once to Stein, and then slipped out of her office. Harry. Have to find Harry.

She took the lift; there wasn't enough time afforded her to go about on foot. There were ups and downs as it made its way to Harry Potter's office, and lots of people kept getting on and getting off, to the point that Hermione nearly flipped her lid. Why wouldn't this infernal contraption take her to the Auror Offices first! It wasn't like it was a long way away. When the lift was finally empty of everyone but her, it took off in a diagonal direction, whispering through the Ministry conduits. Except that when the doors to the lift opened, she was looking into the Ministry Foyer and found herself face to face with a Harry who looked nervous and angry all at the same time.

Not where I was planning to go, but this works as well.

"Hermione!"

"Harry! I was just coming to find you."

"Where is he?"

"Sam?"

"Yes! Sam! Where is he?"

"My office."

"You didn't leave him alone, did you!"

"One of your Aurors was with him."

Harry had squeezed into the lift with three other Aurors, but double-took at his best friend. "Who?"

"Arthur Stein?" She frowned. "Harry. . . ."

"Hermione, there is no Arthur Stein in my department." His face blanched.

"Shit!" Hermione slammed the doors and punched the button, blood draining from her face. "I should have known!"

"How could you know?!" Harry retorted. "It's not like you spend loads of time on MLE level."

"Sam was trying to get away, Harry! He nearly ran into me when I was going up the stairs! He probably knew who it was, and he made a run for it. Stein stunned him, Harry! And I'll bet you anything he Confunded him as well when my back was turned!" She punched the side of the lift. "Dammit! What was I thinking?! I should have told him to leave and come get you!" She punched the wall a few more times, just to let the universe know how she felt about the situation.

It seemed to take less time to get back to her office floor than it had to get to the Ministry Foyer; it helped that they weren't forced to stop and pick up anyone else. The lift ground to a halt on her level, and Hermione and the four Aurors practically fell through the doors and bolted up the stairs, wands out. In the back of her mind Hermione knew it was a useless endeavor. When they opened the door, there was Sam, still in the chair, eyes staring lifelessly at the wall behind Hermione's desk.

"SHIT!" Harry bellowed. "SHIT SHIT SHIT!"

That just about covered it, Hermione thought. As she'd predicted, Stein was gone; he'd have to clean up the whole mess, not just the part concerning Sam. There was someone else, Sam had said. Someone else in danger. "Ron," she said suddenly.

Harry whirled to look at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Ron's in danger as well, Harry, and Astoria Mult."

"Who's Astoria Mult?"

"I don't know!" she cried angrily. "Leave Sam; we'll send someone else up to get him. Ron and Mult, Harry!"

Harry quickly barked out orders to his men, and they disappeared. For the millionth time in her career, Hermione cursed the inability to simply Apparate around the Ministry. A thought occurred to her, and she felt her heart thud even faster. Panicking, she searched through her desk, tearing out drawers and flipping through files feverishly.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"I want to know if the fake Auror took anything," Hermione retorted angrily. "I'll be fine, Harry; get Ron!"

Harry sent a Patronus instead. "I'm not leaving you alone," he said shortly. "Did Sam tell you everything?"

"The plot to destroy the Ministry and the Palace of Westminster?!" replied Hermione. "Yes, he told me!"

"And he was killed for his pains," said Harry. "As will Mult, and likely Ron, if we don't get to them first. I am not leaving you alone, Hermione."

She huffed. "Fine." She closed the drawers and tore open a closet, rifling through the shelves. "That bastard!" she screeched. "I hope your Aurors find them, soon Harry. I think Stein's a Hit-wizard."

"What's wrong?" he blurted. "Is something missing? What d'you mean, Hit-wizard?"

"My lexicon!"

Harry frowned. "Lexicon?"

Hermione sighed. "The pamphlet every barrister and department head gets. For the heads, it's got the information of everyone in their department, and for the barristers it lists all the information for all Ministry Employees. And it's gone. My lexicon is gone; it's not here. It's always here, but it's now it's not, and I never use it, because it's an invasion of privacy, so I kept it there, but now it's not, it's gone, it's gone, and I'll bet you that Hit-wizard has it!"

"Breathe, Hermione!" Harry said. "We'll find Ron and Astoria Mult. Get your things, okay? Come on."

Hermione hesitated, sparing one last look at Sam's dead body, before snatching up her coat and bag. She waved her wand, and everything was back to the way it should be. She took the extra step of warding all her drawers, and anything that might be important. Stein wouldn't be back now that he had the lexicon, but just in case someone else had any ideas. . .Hermione wasn't interested in taking chances. She nodded to Harry as she clicked the door, and they made their way to the end of the hall for the lift. As the doors were about to click shut, the silvery form of a terrier came bounding up the them: Ron's Patronus, Hermione realized.

"I'm safe," the terrier said in his voice. "Richard and the other guys found me, Harry. I'm at the Burrow with the family; I'm okay."

The two of them breathed a sigh of relief, and Hermione slumped against the wall. "Good thing Richard's there, then," said Harry.

"And even if they try anything," Hermione affirmed, "I'm sure between Ginny and Mrs. Weasley alone, Ron would be quite all right."

Harry managed a weak chuckle. "We should have thought to send them a Patronus first," he said wryly. The chuckle faded as silver panda barreled towards them. "No," Harry whispered. "Patrick never sends a Patronus unless – " His voice was cut off by Patrick's:

"Astoria Mult is dead," it said. "We were summoned to Knockturn Alley when they found her body." Hermione closed her eyes, and willed herself not to feel a failure. "It seems there was a struggle. Draco Malfoy has been severely wounded, but he's still alive. We're en route to St. Mungo's now."