Hello my friends :) This is my new story! I've been working on it for the last few months, writing most of it in only 3 weeks! I was writing like crazy back then haha.

This story probably would have turned out a total mess without my betas Nora Fares and KoolStoryBro13. I love you both so much for holding my hand in this process :3.

This is a post war AU, some things are changed, some things remain the same. It takes place a few years after the final battle.

-o-

Warnings:

This story deals with serious topics such as trauma, minor violence, sex (hihi) and stuff

-o-

The way the rain fell in irregular patterns between the bushes of the park should have tipped Draco off that something wasn't right, that someone had done a bad job of concealing themselves without taking the change of weather into account. But Draco didn't notice until it was too late.

Maybe it had been the overpriced champagne Draco had drunk at the gathering or just the intoxicating feeling of his running success that constantly kept adrenaline and endorphins pumping through his veins, urging him to go farther, to achieve more. He had grown careless, besotted with his accomplishments and on the high of constant advancement towards a greater goal that even he himself hadn't quite determined yet. All he had ever known was to strive for greater highs.

That moment, when he felt a presence behind him, Draco knew that time had come to atone for all of his sins, that his road of success had been painted in gold for too long and that now bitumen would weigh down each and every step until he succumbed.

Unable to react in time, he was pulled into the darkness of the park. As he still fumbled for his wand, the tug of apparition forcefully took him away together with the stranger that had chosen that day to make Draco pay.

Only moments before, he had been in the luxuriously decorated ballroom celebrating with wizarding high society. Something akin to annoyance flashed through him as he realised that those would likely be the last faces he'd see before his life ended.

"To winning the war!" Minister Bletchley said, toasting the elegantly robed witches and wizards gathered around a decadent buffet. It had more different kinds of seafood than a person could taste in their lifetime, ranging from roasted char under chestnut crust on a fennel-mandarin salad to wild shrimp and lamb carpaccio with chorizo and artichoke cream.

Draco wrinkled his nose. He hated fish. But it was expensive and some of these fish were incredibly rare. Just what wealthy people like him should eat.

"To winning the war," the people around him cheered. Draco caught the gaze of Theodore Nott as he raised his glass alongside the other members of their elite circle. He still remembered his old school mate sitting among the broken ruins of Hogwarts, trembling in fear as Aurors started to drag Death Eaters and Slytherins alike from the battlefield.

They hadn't won any war, but who cared about the details of history? They all pretended like they had been on the winning side and like they had been the ones striking down the Dark Lord. Deep down, though, everyone around him knew that they were celebrating the victory of a whole different war. They had won the political war in the fallout of the Dark Lord's demise. They had come out on top, and so they raised their gold rimmed glasses of the finest champagne on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, where the real savior of the world had beaten the greatest and most evil wizard of their time in front of their very eyes.

History was written by winners, but war only brought loss. After the Dark Lord had fallen, that had been prevalent, and it had undoubtedly shattered what remained of the Order of the Phoenix and Potter's army of school children. Evil festered among the ruins of a civilisation like infection in an open wound, and so the archaic structures that had once spawned the most fatal war of younger wizarding history had risen again to rule over them all.

Someone took Draco aside, nearly causing him to spill his drink. A drop of that was probably worth more than a new racing broom, so Draco was rather pissed when the man hissed into his ear, "Draco, we should talk about how we manage the wireless spreading Skeeter's propaganda."

"You mean the late night talk attacking your company's benefits programme? Why should I care, Theo?" Draco asked, pretending to be fascinated by the art nouveau style handrails of the stairwell leading to the gallery of the ceremonial hall they were celebrating in. "It's shit and you know it. Half the money goes into your own pockets together with the tax breaks you gain from pretending to support your workers' health care programs. They are just telling the truth."

Nott grunted. "You are in charge of the Anti-Prejudice law. We supported your vote in the House of Heirs so it's time you pay us back for that."

Draco barked a dry laugh. "I don't owe you anything."

"Well, how about a deal then?"

"I'm listening," Draco relented, feigning boredom. Nott might be a master at playing poker, but when it came to playing the nuances of bargain, he was everything but subtle. He didn't understand the fine tuning of politics and power. However, the man had money and was adept at multiplying it, be it legally or through countless semi-legal and illegal schemes.

"I'll leave the health sector to you for now. I'll redraw my proposition for Bell's Meds Lab, and you get to make your big money there."

"For now?" Draco raised a brow. "I don't think so. You are an adult, you should be able to solve your problems with the press on your own." He turned to the buffet, trying to snatch a cloudberry from the plate with zander fillets that hadn't touched the fish yet.

"Two years!"

"Merlin, you really are desperate, are you?" Draco said, nibbling at the bitter-sweet fruit. "Oh, I forgot, the unions threatened you with strikes, right? I guess you have every reason to be desperate…" he trailed off, letting his words take effect. He knew all about what was going on in the unions. Information was power, so he made sure to pay his sources good money. He carefully picked the most desperate people so they would depend on it too.

Nobody beat him at this game. He had learned from the best—he had learned from Lucius Malfoy.

"Four… no, five years. I'll give you the supply chain too."

He sighed. "Since you've asked so nicely, I'll see what I can do."

"It's appreciated, Draco," Nott replied, obviously relieved. He seriously should practice his poker face outside the gambling hall. It was one of the reasons the press had found such an easy target in him. The right journalists knew how to read interviews and find hidden truths in a face as open as that.

Skeeter had mastered that skill and continued to push the boundaries. In a journalistic culture where the Ministry was censoring even the smallest of critical voices, gossip papers blossomed. Skeeter however had scented more fame and attention outside her previous niche that was quickly swarmed with off-the-rack tittle-tattle. She knew that success was only possible in dissociation from the mainstream, so she had delved into the underground and had started publishing uncomfortable truths about their current administration and pureblood society.

Draco had only recently gotten his hands on valuable information on her sources and connections, and a name was high on his bounty list right now. The man spreading Skeeter's agenda on the wireless had been her apprentice—a man who had dared to speak up in this hostile political climate. Once Draco would be through with him, he would regret even picking up a quill and especially rue his role as a guest star in said late-night talk show.

Nott didn't know that he had already planned filing an arrest, but this way Draco could kill two birds with one stone. Corporate money in the health insurance sector meant smaller margins for his NGO after all as they couldn't raise the prices at will. Companies had a lot of room for bargaining while private citizens were simply dependent on their services, no matter what price.

"Making your schemes again, Draco?"

"You know me, Blaise."

"I do." Zabini grinned in a way that was everything but friendly. "Enjoying the buffet? I had it ordered just how you like it."

"It's delightsome," Draco answered dispassionately.

Zabini was an arsehole, but he was his friend as well. That was if one could call the relationship built on discussing politics and women during their monthly poker night friendship. Zabini got to humiliate Draco from time to time when he lost another thousand Galleons over a full house, and Draco gained some insights into the Department of Transportation and Logistics. It was important to know of new tariffs and taxes first hand so he could petition against anything that could become problematic in terms of business.

His position as Undersecretary came with political power after all, and with some bargaining, he knew how to position enough votes on his side if needed. The old families' allegiances stretched far, and his father had already secured a great number of them during his time in the House of Heirs. When Draco had taken over as the rightful descendant of the Malfoy line, he had made sure his name still held enough families' loyalty. He didn't care much for poker, but he entertained Zabini every now and then if only to keep a close relationship to some of the most important families. Letting Zabini mock his card game skills was an acceptable price to pay. Draco's game was politics and losing was part of it, as was pretending to enjoy fish even though Zabini knew that he would rather fling himself off Potter's statue in the Ministry than eat it.

Draco glanced at his watch, contemplating at what time he could leave without appearing rude. He was tired from working on a counter offer to Nott's bidding on Bell's Meds Lab for days. It was the last non-corporate owned apothecary in the city and quite popular due to Katie Bell being well-liked and trusted. To Draco's chagrin, Nott had more money at his dispense to make a profitable offer so having him withdraw it already counted as enough political gain for a night.

But his father had ingrained into him to never miss an opportunity for playing power, and so Draco stayed, engaging in small talk and bargaining. Everyone stayed until the last attendee had been greeted and the final toast had been spoken. No one dared to be the first to remove themselves from the circle of political mingling to enjoy a quiet evening at home instead. They were all part of this giant clockwork of their own making, always trying to turn their gears the right way to get closer to the centre of power.

When Draco finally allowed himself to leave, a fine drizzle had set in, covering everything in a layer of tiny droplets and irritating his eyes. He cast a rain repellent charm on himself and made his way out of the warded area. Rich people didn't like intruders even if it meant some inconveniences for them. The closest point to apparate from was across the street where a park stretched down to a small pond. It was pitch-black between the trees, causing Draco to feel an uncomfortable tingle along his back as he approached the cleared area beyond the wards.

He had just reached the border when he suddenly felt himself being pulled into the dark between the bushes of the park. Draco fumbled for his wand, but he realised that he was far too slow as a familiar tug pulled him away from the street and spat him out in a narrow stairwell.

Stumbling, he regained his footing just in time to be janked forward and up the first flight of stairs by the collar.

"You arrogant Malfoy spawn will be humble and make amends now," his captor grunted, dragging him along with enormous strength. Draco lunged at him, but the man caught his wrist and twisted his arm so far behind his back that he heard his joints popping. Draco barely kept from shouting in pain, bowing to prevent his shoulder from disjointing. He hit his shins on the stairs and fell to his knees. Pain flared in his legs and a dull ache spreading hin his shoulder, where his arm was twisted into an unnatural position.

Draco struggled against the iron hold, but he was forcefully pushed further downwards until he was unable to move without white pain shooting through his shoulder.

This is it, Draco thought. This was how he was going to meet his end. It was nearly a relief; at least he wasn't stabbed in the back by his own so-called friends.

He was pulled up again, and he finally caught a glance at his captor. The man was large but slender, dark hair framing his pale features and even paler eyes that reminded him painfully of his deceased lunatic aunt.

The man pushed him through a door and to the ground. A wand pressed into his neck. "You stay on your knees or you'll regret ever being born." Ropes emerged from the ground and coiled around his arms and legs, tethering him to the cracked floorboards, unyielding to his struggles.

A door opened somewhere to his right, and Draco heard a gasp. "What is this?"

He raised his head, locking eyes with none other than Hermione-fucking-Granger.

"Sirius!" she cried, "What did you do?" She pulled her wand from her pocket.

"Stay the bloody hell away from me, Mudblood!" Draco roared. Fury claimed him. How dare she do this to him? He was kneeling at her feet like a disobedient house-elf. How dare she humiliate him like this?

The man that had dragged him into this sodden place kicked him in the ribs and Draco groaned, certain that he had heard a small crack. A hand fisted in his hair, and his head was pulled back until he came face to face with Sirius Black. "You will not call her that! You will not insult her, you hear me?" His eyes were crazy, his breath smelling of Firewhisky. Draco wanted to turn his face away, but Black held onto his hair, pulling back until it felt like he was tearing it off his scalp.

"You'll apologize for what you did, Malfoy. You will apologise for how you treated her all those years."

"Merlin, Sirius, let him go!" Granger cried, yanking Black's arm.

"You'll die for this, Black" Draco growled. "And Granger will be there with you."

Suddenly, the man collapsed, nearly falling on top of Draco.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Granger whimpered, pushing Black's slack body aside and aiming her wand at the ropes still coiling around Draco's limbs. His hands were already white when they finally loosened and blood could rush back into his tingling fingers. "Are you okay, did he do anything? Please, I'm so sorry, Malfoy."

He pushed her away when she reached for him as if to check for wounds. "Don't. Fucking. Touch me."

"Of course, I'm sorry." She nearly bowed when she pulled back, still on her knees in front of him. Her demeanor was pathetic.

She looked different than he remembered her. Her hair was braided tightly, her face was nearly as pale as Black's, tiny freckles standing in stark contrast on her cheeks.

Draco pushed up from the ground, finally able to reach for his wand and pointed it at her. "What is this? Did you plan this abduction?" He was eerily calm, having finally regained the upper hand.

"No, please, it's not what this looks like. He's out of his senses. I should have been here to take care of him, he's off at this time of the year because Harry… because of what happened. It's no excuse, please forgive us, Malfoy."

Draco looked down at her still kneeling on the ground before him. Black lay by her side, his face slack. She had stunned the man, Draco realised.

"You'll go to prison for this," he said. It was simply an assessment, no threat, no intent swinging in his words. Her face turned even whiter.

What do you think? Are you excited for this new story? :) I know Hermione isn't the one you know but I promise there will be reasons for that and this is just the beginning of the story!

PS: I haven't forgotten She is Clueless, right now though it will have to wait.