A/N: New story time! This one is going to be a bit different from my other fics, which have mostly been Dramione centric.

Hope you like it!

Chapter 1

Luna was adorably overdressed when Hermione met up with her in the lawn. She was wearing layered dress robes the colour of eggplants and silver muggle-style wedge sandals. Her trusty Spectrespecs were perched above her forehead, and objects which appeared to be miniature hats dangled from each of her earlobes. Everyone assigned in the team was wearing their generic ministry approved Protective gloves, but Luna had customized hers to appear metallic silver. Peter Pettigrew's nasty face flashed through her mind, and feeling uncomfortable, Hermione looked away from her hands.

"Hello, Hermione!"

"Hey there, Luna. Look at you! You seem pretty excited."

"Oh, I am. But I still wish they would've let me explore the gardens."

"I can speak to Dougharty if you want," said Hermione. "He's not as grouchy as everyone says he is."

"No, you don't have to," Luna said with a smile, "I will figure something out."

Hermione shook her head and gestured at her friend to start walking towards the Manor. Luna had been assigned the House Elf Division but she knew she would eventually find a way to sneak into the grounds.

The day was so perfect that Hermione wanted to spend it entirely outdoors, sit in the overgrown grass and play with the butterflies. One would've hardly expected such pretty, non-magical creatures to reside on the Malfoy property, but apparently someone had been sane enough to plant a spectacular rose garden; probably Narcissa. They fluttered around from person to person, apparently finding the team more interesting than the midnight blue roses that were in full bloom. She could imagine why that was so, the soil reeked heavily of Dark magic even to this day. She'd checked it herself. In any case, she would have to spend the day and the following months strictly indoors. She was going to lose all her tan from Australia.

It was the first day of the project, and nearly everyone was gathered in front of the looming structure; a preparatory batch of officials had ventured inside at first and had returned a few minutes ago to declare it safe enough to enter. Hermione, unlike Luna and most of the other members of the team, had appeared two hours early to do her own personal preparation, albeit more of the mental nature. She'd had a look around the perimeter but did not go inside the manor itself, somehow not finding herself brave enough to go alone. It had been such a long time since she'd last been here, but her memory was still crystal clear. On some nights, when she'd had a little more wine than usual or felt strange and melancholy, she'd wake up to the sound of Bellatrix screaming in her ears.

The in-charge of the team was a surly looking wizard appearing to be in his mid-fifties. Cyrus Dougharty was a top-level curse breaker who was going to be overlooking the whole project. He was Ministry appointed, and he ran his own successful private business, while everybody else in the team was a Ministry employee. He was perpetually tired, which would explain the not-nearly-loud-enough voice he was currently using to lecture the team of fifty which had gathered beneath the marble stairs. He hadn't even thought to use Sonorus; a possible side effect of having to deal with much more powerful spells on a daily basis.

Hermione couldn't remember what exactly had been going inside her mind when she decided to sign-up for the Malfoy Manor refurbishment project, but having returned from Australia with her parents two months ago had left her itching for something to do. So when Kingsley Shacklebolt had announced that the Malfoy Manor was going to be opened publicly as a visiting site six months from now, she had hastily applied to be a part of it.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had personally called Dougharty and introduced them, promptly suggesting for Hermione to be made a part of the team. Dougharty had appeared wary; she had nothing to show for her competence save for a Hogwarts education and a messy war; but since he could not directly say no to the Minister of Magic, he'd agreed. That was one of the few times when Hermione had been grateful for the war hero special treatment. She had just returned from Australia after spending two years looking for her parents and later reviving their memories, so she hadn't had the time to get used to it like Harry and Ron did. It always took her by surprise and never failed to irritate her.

"You see anybody from Hogwarts?" She asked Luna.

"I know that Padma is going be here, but I haven't seen her yet."

"There's Ernie Macmillan...and I think that's Susan," said Hermione craning her neck.

She might not know many people out here, but everyone seemed to know who she was, as they made way for her to pass through, smiling and nodding at her as she went. By the time she made it to the front, he had finished with his precautionary speech.

Looking sideways at her friend, she said, "Are you sure you're going to be okay, Luna?" She had spent more time here than Hermione had.

"Of course, in fact I'm going to the cellar before I go meet the elves. I want to see if the sketches I carved are still there. You want to come?"

"Uh..okay," she replied, thinking of the chain-linked faces of themselves which they'd seen painted on her room's wall, so long ago. "I'll come, but we'll make it quick."

They had entered through the doors of the Manor and Hermione hadn't even noticed it. She glanced upwards and then wondered how she'd ever missed it. The entrance hall was an atrium with a goliath ellipsoid dome that appeared to have been made entirely of crystal. A large gothic style chandelier hung from the center to reach halfway of the hall's height. Hundreds of silver Hippogriff heads hung from it like fat balls of metal, with their tongues curling outwards to end into tall holders the width of her upper arms. She could only hope they'd held candles and not anything else.

Her pulse had quickened and she didn't even know why. The place appeared in to be in pristine condition, there was plenty of daylight coming in and not even any mice were scuttling about. But as she turned to her right, she got her answer: a life-sized portrait was hung on the wall depicting the form of a middle-age wizard who she assumed must be Abraxas Malfoy. He was tall and lean, having the characteristic white-blond hair and a nose that could cut glass. And he was staring at her. The wizards must have done a thorough job of it; because nobody shouted "mudblood" like they had three years ago when she was getting dragged through here at wandpoint.

She turned away before he could start a conversation with her about why his ancestral home was being turned into a freaking interactive museum or why he possibly thought she appeared familiar.

Looking around, she realized that most of the team had set out for their own individual tasks, the only ones who lingered were the Conditioners: wizards and witches assigned with the task of conditioning the portraits in order to make sure they uttered what they wanted them to utter six months from now. It would be a tad uncomfortable if there were an ongoing chorus of death threats and swear words with people milling about in the halls. A time-consuming and draining job, no doubt.

Her own job, however, was much less important and much more enjoyable. Well, it was for her. She was supposed to scour the Malfoy library, go through thousands of invaluable texts and books and make sure they contained no lethal magic, pluck out unsafe manuscripts and restore the old ones. In short, make it fit for public viewing. That she had the whole job and sole access for her own self was a major advantage.

She realized that Luna had took off on her own, and most probably forgotten to take her along. Privately though, she was relieved. She'd rather not go down into the dark underbelly of this place. As it was, she had no idea where she was going. She wished she'd listened to Dougharty earlier, or brought a map along at the very least. Getting a map of the most intricate pureblood mansion in the country, however, was not going to be easy.

She wandered through the dark corridors, her feet making reassuring sounds as they connected with the carpeted floors. It was highly unlikely that she was going to get herself lost in this mansion; she had her wand on the ready and all she had to do was cast a spell, but she couldn't help but call hello every other minute in the fear of getting swallowed into the abyss of some unknown magic.

"Voldemort once walked through these halls," she whispered absently to herself, feeling goose bumps rise on her skin. Well, he walked through Hogwarts too, and that was hardly scary.

This was. She didn't know if it was the rusty smell, or the shadows passing over the baroque architecture, but it scared her a little bit. Normal houses made sounds, but other than her breaths and footsteps, there was none here.

Well, sooner or later she'd get used to it. She had to.

Entering a room which was completely dark, she finally decided to put her wand at use. "Lumos"

There was a sudden blinding light which completely covered her field her vision, almost bringing her down to her knees. Her eyes formed into the narrowest of slits so she didn't hurt them, she cast a cautious look around.

The room was full of mirrors. She stood at the doorway, illuminated from all sides as her pale-faced image reflected back at her, seemingly mocking her for her little fright. Mirrors of all sizes covered the walls, even the low hanging roof. Framed in elaborate antique frames, half broken, tea spoon sized, curved and plane – all kinds of shiny mirrors could be seen from her vantage point. Standing inside this little cage of infinity was beginning to freak her out, so she backed away into the hallway.

Bad idea, bad idea. Her mind continued to chant in a never ending, unnecessary loop.

She opened the next door she encountered anyway. This one was completely ordinary, the kind for which she'd seen a likeness appear in hundreds of muggle movies. It seemed to be a storage room of sorts with broken furniture, wooden cupboards, coat hangers and clubs stacked haphazardly against the walls. For some reason, seeing such a collection inside the Malfoy Manor caused her to giggle.

She caught the sudden movement from the corner of her eyes and her heart nearly seized.

It was him.

He was looking in all directions, but his eyes seemed unable to find the source of the noise that he'd heard, but she could see him very clearly.

She approached slowly, her first instinct telling her not to startle him for some unfathomable reason. His portrait was flung next to a wooden desk, thrown away like trash.

Lowering herself down on her knees, she stared into the eyes of Draco Malfoy, a boy that she had known a lifetime ago.

A boy who had teased and insulted her on numerous occasions.

A boy who'd been the instigator to the downfall of the greatest wizard alive.

A boy who had been dead for three years.

It was strange to be staring into the eyes of someone she knew to be dead, and even stranger to see his pupils flare behind the canvas as his eyes focused on her.

Her heart was beating a million miles per minute, but she brought herself to recall basic civility.

"Malfoy," she breathed.

His face was void of all emotion. He was blank, uninspiring and lifeless. Dead. She was certain that he wasn't going to reply. But surprises appeared to be the theme of the day.

"Granger."

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