"Boss, she's not giving up anything," Marcus growled as he walked into the office of the leader of the Hunters. He hated failing his leader. "I've done everything I can. What do I do?"

"Hmm…" mused the leader. "Bring her here and let me speak to her."

As Marcus went to fetch Hermione, the leader thought, Who is this girl?

Marcus brought Hermione to his leader and tied her to the same chair she had been in before. "She's unconscious," he said, glancing down at the floor warily.

"How did she get that way?"

"She kicked me in the balls and I punished her for it!"

"Damn it, Marcus, you know those Ministry fools are already looking for reasons to arrest us, and causing visible damage—especially on a girl—will just encourage them!"

"Sorry, boss."

"Just...wait outside while I speak to her." Once Marcus left, the leader of the Hunters pointed his wand at Hermione said, "Ennervate."

Hermione visibly stirred, and then strained in her chair to figure out how securely tied up she was. "You're going to be sorry for this," she said weakly, trying to ignore the pain in her cheek.

"Why don't you give up?" drawled the same voice that Hermione had first heard; he must be the leader.

"Because you petty criminals are nothing compared to the Dark Lord," spat Hermione strongly. "I'd be dead by now if I was captured by Voldemort."

"Yes, you would—trust me," replied the leader.

"Are you a former Death Eater?" asked Hermione; if he was, she could narrow her search down by quite a bit.

"How many companions did you have?" countered the man.

When Hermione didn't answer, he said, his voice raised a bit in frustration, "Do you want to be raped and beaten?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. This "leader" had just shown his hand. He wouldn't be so frustrated if he was actually going to hurt her. In that case, she might as well reveal her identity and get this over with. "Of course not, what a ridiculous question to ask," said Hermione condescendingly. "Let's start with names. I'm Auror Hermione Granger. I would hold out a hand to shake, but I seem to be a bit tied up at the moment," she said sarcastically.

The leader said nothing, but his mind was racing: he did know this girl. And she wasn't just a girl, she was an Auror.

"You see, this is where you introduce yourself," said Hermione coaxingly. "My name is so-and-so, and I am the leader of the Hunters."

"Why are you here?"

"Because you kidnapped me."

"Why did you pretend to rob Borgin and Bourkes?" he asked, revising his question.

"Ah, finally a relevant question. Of course I was never going to actually rob a store—I just needed to be brought to you so I can arrest you." Hermione had a smirk on her face as she continued. "So if you'll kindly untie me, I can bring you back to the Ministry to be arrested."

"And if I don't release you?" the cold voice was politely incredulous.

"Then I shall just have to escape and begin writing the profile on you that I have amassed," said Hermione bluntly.

"And what would that be?" the leader asked, beginning to be intrigued.

"That you're male, probably not that much older than me, perhaps the son of a Death Eater or maybe you were a Death Eater. That you have a well-bred tone so you must have been born rich."

The leader then said icily, "Well, since you know all that, I simply have to kill you." He was bluffing.

"You can't," she said simply. Without waiting for him to ask why not, she went on, "If you kill me, then Harry Potter will be all over you; right now you're just a case that he gave to me because he didn't want to put me in danger, but if I show up dead, he will hunt you to the ends of the earth—and believe me, he's a fantastic Auror."

"I'm not afraid of Potter," snarled the leader, and all of a sudden, Hermione recognized that scornful, haughty tone.

"Draco Malfoy?"

The leader hesitated for a second too long in making his reply to that and it was by that that Hermione knew she was correct in her guess. "Oh my God, I never would have guessed it," she mocked. "Draco Malfoy has a spine! And here I thought you were just spending your days crawling around in a sewer, looking for fellow snakes to pass the time with."

"Shut up, Granger," he sneered, for all the world sounding like he had in their Hogwarts days.

"You can take the blindfold off now, Malfoy, since I know who you are," Hermione informed him. "All I have to do now is escape, and you'll be taken down."

Draco Malfoy, leader of the Hunters, waved his wand lazily to remove her blindfold.

Hermione glanced around, taking in her surroundings. She was in a green-themed office that looked like it had taken thousands of dollars—or Galleons—to decorate. Then again, it was no secret that the Malfoys were filthy rich—in all senses of the words. The room was lit by floating balls of light that swam lazily around the twenty-foot ceiling. Portraits lined the walls, their occupants gazing with interest at the scene unfolding in front of them. A huge desk took up the center of the room; made of a rich, dark mahogany, it looked to be more expensive than most people spend on their entire houses. The only things in the room that looked out of place were the three enormous filing cabinets that took up the back wall. They were labeled alphabetically, and judging by the Ministry of Magic leaflet hanging out of one of them, looked to be information on wanted criminals.

Draco Malfoy himself had changed quite a bit since their school days; he was a bit taller, and though he was still lean, she could see the powerful corded muscle in his arms. This was to be expected from the leader of a gang of criminals, Hermione thought in disgust. He still had the Malfoys' signature platinum-blond hair, though it wasn't gelled back anymore. There was something in his eyes now that hadn't been there when he had been at Hogwarts. It was a dangerous gleam in his eyes, something that said he would risk anything for something he cared about—in this case, the future of the Hunters.

"You won't escape, Granger," he growled at her. Hermione's confident expression dimmed slightly. "In fact, you have caused quite a predicament for yourself. I can't kill you, I can't let you go. Therefore, you will be kept locked up."

"You can't keep me here forever!"

"Watch me," Draco sneered, calling in the big black man who had tried to interrogate Hermione before. "Marcus. Take her to the North Wing and lock her in a room."

"Yes, boss," said Marcus. He gave Hermione a dark look, telling her with his eyes that he hadn't forgotten her kick to the groin. "Treatment orders?"

"No rape, no physical abuse," Draco said sternly. "And pass that on to the others. Where's her wand?"

"Here," Marcus said sulkily, holding up Hermione's wand.

Draco took it and dropped it casually into a desk drawer, locking that drawer with a golden key.

"But she's a criminal! No torture?" Marcus asked pleadingly. He clasped his hands in front of him hopefully.

Draco replied firmly, his mouth in a hard line, "None whatsoever. Or molestation—she is to be left completely alone. She isn't a criminal."

"Boss! She's not blindfolded!" said Marcus, shocked.

"She won't be leaving, so it's not a problem."

"You fucking asshole!" Hermione spat. "You're going to regret this."

Draco waved a hand lazily and Hermione was taken away. Marcus retied Hermione's hands in front of her and pulled her along by the end of the rope. Marcus led her out of the office and down a long corridor. Their footprints didn't make a sound on the thick, plush carpet on the floor.

Hermione's anger faded fast as she snapped into Auror mode. She would find out all she could about the Hunters before she began attempting to escape. "Why do you work under Malfoy?" she asked Marcus curiously, trying to find a weakness.

"Because he's a good leader," answered Marcus stiffly, pulling her up the stairs, "even if he's too strict about prisoner treatment."

"What do you mean?"

"He barely lets us hurt them…except the former Death Eaters and anyone involved in assault—we get to have our fun with them. But the pretty ones," Marcus leered at her, "he doesn't even let us have a bit of fun with—except the ones that don't give up information."

"How many of you are there?" Hermione asked, storing everything she heard into her memory.

"Thirty-three," he said, and the ease with which he answered her questions worried Hermione—what if she wasn't able to escape after all?

It felt like hours that she walked up stairs and through corridors until finally, they reached a door that Marcus stopped at. He shoved her roughly through the door and followed her inside.

"You will be brought food by house elves," he said in a bored tone. "No one is allowed to enter this room but the boss and house elves, so if you see anyone else, I suggest you let the boss know. You can contact him with this button here"—Marcus pointed to a button near the door—"and he'll come up, provided that he is at his manor at the time."

And by this slip, Hermione realized where she was: Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. "Tell me, Marcus. You have to know Draco Malfoy pretty well: is he really going to keep me here for years?"

"What do you think?"

Hermione dropped her gaze to the ground. "I was hoping he'd maybe gotten less stubborn since Hogwarts."

"Not a chance," said Marcus. "I'm leaving now—don't try to escape, it won't work."

Once Marcus left, Hermione freed her hands and explored every inch of the room she was in. It was decorated in green and silver—just like Slytherin, of course—and there was a large bed in the corner. She searched the adjoining bathroom for razors or anything else she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing in there of any use. Hermione looked out the window that was to the right of the bed and sighed.

All she'd wanted was to be an Auror, but now she was being held captive by her previous school enemy. It would take Harry at least a week before he started looking for her, since he would assume she was working on her case. When she didn't report weekly like she was supposed to, Harry would begin to get worried. Worry would turn to terror, and then he would send Aurors after her.

But, she realized, she could make this hell for Malfoy too.

With a gleeful smirk, Hermione banged her fist on the button that was supposed to call Malfoy.

Ten minutes later, the door to her room opened and Draco Malfoy came in, slightly out of breath from running up all of the stairs. "What?" he asked her, a bit annoyed.

"Oh—that's what that button does?" Hermione said innocently. "Cool."

With a dire threat and a rude hand gesture, Draco left, and Hermione smirked to herself. She rummaged around under the bed, still looking for some kind of weapon—anything she could use to escape her prison. There was absolutely nothing useful in the room or bathroom.

Over the next three hours, Hermione amused herself by pressing the call button seven more times, getting more and more elated at his obvious anger and frustration that she was responsible for causing.

Hermione was lying on her back on the bed, which she was displeased to find was very comfortable, when the door suddenly unlocked and opened. "I didn't call you this time, Malfoy," Hermione said lazily, without turning around to face the door.

"Well, then, it's good I'm not Malfoy, eh?" said the voice of a man that Hermione hadn't previously seen or heard. She slid off the bed and stood imperiously, giving the man a quick once-over.

He looked about in his late twenties to early thirties, with short cropped blonde hair and blue eyes. He was very stocky and muscled—very compact, very…German.

"What do you want?" she snapped, though a thought was nagging at her…something Marcus had said.

"I'm bored and need some fun," said the man, his eyes roaming her body. "You look like you could provide it quite well. I'm Fynn," he informed her. His gaze was predatory and made her very uneasy. He stalked towards the bed, grinning.

"Get out of here," snarled Hermione, finally recalling what Marcus had said: no one was to be in her room but Malfoy, so why was this lunatic here?

"Let's go, baby," were Fynn's last cliché words before he lunged for her.

Hermione's quick reflexes helped her dodge Fynn's attack. She ran back to the door and hit the call button as hard as she could, holding it down for seconds at a time. The door to the room was open and Hermione seized her chance to run through it. She made it halfway down one flight of the deserted staircase, her heart in her throat as she pounded down the stairs.

She nearly broke her neck as a hand caught her ponytail and wrenched backwards. She shrieked as Fynn took advantage of her shock and pain to knock her legs from under her and drag her back to the room. He locked the door behind him this time and advanced on her.

Hermione scrambled to her feet, backed up as far as she could against the wall, and prayed that someone could help her. Common sense, though, told her that she was on her own this time. It was time to fight back.

"Don't fight it, bitch," snarled the man. "You're all alone here. No one cares about what happens in this room." Fynn pinned her against the wall and shoved his lips down upon hers, bruising her lips with the force of his unwanted kiss.

Hermione brought her right knee up sharply to connect with his groin. The result of her blow was a high-pitched shriek that hurt her ears to listen to. The revolting kiss ended as Fynn grabbed himself with both hands. She thrust her hands into his front pocket, searching for his wand. Just as her fingers closed upon it, however, Fynn recovered enough to shove her backwards into one of the posts on the bed.

Hermione was unable to contain her gasp of pain as her head connected hard with the elaborately carved wooden bedpost. She got in a good blow to his left eye, though she paid for it when he hit her hard in the throat. Unable to draw breath, she collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain.

Fynn forcefully ripped off Hermione's pants and was pulling his own pants down when the door suddenly burst open and Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, looking furious.

"What is it this time?" he yelled, apparently thinking that Hermione had been messing around again by pressing the button.

Hermione took advantage of Fynn's pause to stumble over to Draco, falling to the floor at his feet. She grasped her throat tightly, trying desperately to breathe.

Draco correctly interpreted the scene in front of him and instantly flew into a rage. "Merlin!" he roared. "What did I tell all of you?"

Had Hermione been in any mood to notice, she would have laughed at the expression on Fynn's face; he was plainly terrified of Draco.

"Get out of here, and if I ever catch you anywhere near this prisoner again, YOU'LL PAY IN MORE THAN ONE WAY!"

Fynn paled and ran from the room, pulling his pants up along the way as he cast one last menacing look at Hermione.

"Granger," snapped Draco, nudging the fallen girl with his foot. When Hermione didn't respond, Draco raised his voice. "Granger!"

Hermione was out cold on the floor in front of him. He picked her up easily in his arms and carried her over to the bed, frowning when he didn't feel her moving or breathing.

After laying her on the bed, Draco watched her chest and noticed that there was no rise and fall of her breaths. "Shit!" For all his vehement denials, Draco really was afraid of Harry Potter's reaction should he find out that his precious mudblood was dead by his hand.

He pointed his wand at her and spoke the spell to make her breathe again, but it wouldn't work for some reason. Then he noticed the massive bruise on her neck and realized where the blockage was. He quickly healed her throat and then performed the breathing spell.

Hermione inhaled sharply and began to cough; Draco quickly stepped back. "More clothes will be brought up for you," he said tonelessly, not letting an ounce of emotion show as she looked at him almost tearfully.

"What—" Hermione tried to keep her voice steady. "What if he comes back?"

"You'll just have to deal with it, then, won't you?" said Draco cruelly.

Hermione became aware of the fact that she was not wearing pants, thanks to Flynn's assault, and she slid under the covers embarrassedly.

"But—I don't have a wand," she whispered, beginning to become frightened that Malfoy really wasn't going to protect her from Fynn.

"Then you shouldn't have been so foolish and come here!" yelled Draco. "You screwed everything up! Don't you realize that you can never leave?"

"Just give me my wand so that I can protect myself! Malfoy, you saw him—he'll kill me if he can get his hands on me again," she said pleadingly.

"Then you should have given him what he wanted," Draco said coldly. He didn't let himself feel any pity even as he saw the blue and purple bruises left from Fynn's blows and earlier, Marcus's fist.

"Never," spat Hermione.

"Then whatever happens to you is your own fault," he said heartlessly. Draco strode out the door and locked it behind him.