CHAPTER 1
Hermione swept her wildly curling brown hair over her shoulder, and bit her lip, staring intently at the sheets of paper before her through thin black, wire-rimmed glasses. She was leaning forward on the large desk, her elbows propped up on the table, and her hands cupping her face. She had a pencil stuck behind her ear.
The door opened, and she was broken out of her revelry. She caught sight of a short, plump woman with a red face and cropped black hair. Her face broke into a smile.
'Oh, Honey! Is it time for tea already? Time flies when you're busy,'
Honey, her secretary smiled dubiously at her. There were times when she thought that her mistress was a few inches off from crazy, with her mood swings and over-enthusiastic greetings.
'All year-round PMS,' she muttered to herself, and then nodded politely.
'Of course, Ms. Granger. It's five in the evening. I've brought you your tea. Oh, and the minister required your presence once you are done,'
Hermione's bright smile slipped a notch. 'Cornelius Fudge needs me? Whatever for?'
Honey pursed her lips.
'I'm sure he wouldn't tell me...it did seem urgent, though,'
'Oh. Thank you, Honey,'
Honey left the room muttering as she walked out. Hermione, however, was far to used to her irritable behavior to mind that. What she did mind however, was the fact that Fudge wanted to see her.
It was common knowledge that she was one of Fudge's least favorite employees. Probably the least favorite. Not only was she best friend to Harry Potter, who he despised ever since finding out that Harry had been right all along about Voldemort, but even though he had made every effort to keep her away from the ministry, her brilliance and a little help from Dumbledore had got her quite a good position as an enchanted jewelry designer. Hermione loved her job. She was fascinated by lockets and bracelets that had curses in them and adored fashioning jewelry that could hold magic. However, she avoided all her clients and colleagues as much as possible, only interacting with Honey and Lisa, her room-mate, who worked in the Department of Quidditch.
She sighed, and finishing her tea, stacked her paper up, and exited her room. She walked down three corridors to the Atrium and then took the elevator to Fudge's office. His door was a dull mahogany color. Hermione felt dread well up in her as she stood in front of it- he wasn't going to fire her was he?
'Of course not. You haven't done anything,' she told herself firmly. Taking a deep breath, she knocked.
'Come in,' came Fudge's mellow voice. When she entered and he saw who it was, however, a thin line appeared below his mouth and his voice was curtained with icy annoyance.
'Ms. Granger,' he said, swinging his chair around so that he was facing her.
'Uh...you called for me, minister?'
'Apparently. You see, Ms. Granger, we need a little help from you.'
Hermione stiffened in her seat. Fudge's voice told her that she wasn't going to like this.
'Now, as you know, the war against he-who-has-not-been-named has been going on for three years. Started in your fifth year at Hogwarts, I believe.'
'Y-yes, minister.'
'Well, all this time we have been able to keep a satisfactory watch on most Death-Eaters, since Potter was kind enough to disclose the identities of some of his captors...' he fell to muttering, and then resumed. 'Thus weakening You-know who, for with his Death eaters in Azkaban, his capabilities are limited- not that he is powerless, of course...but , you can see, he has some boundaries to his power. We have had trouble with the dementors, on their joining him, but we were able to extend a hand of friendship to the Giants who have kindly offered to protect Azkaban from internal and external intrusions.'
He paused for a minute. Hermione wondered why he was surmising all that had occurred in the last three years for her.
'Well, until now we have felt You Know Who is greatly weakened and that showing himself in your fifth year was a great mistake. Well...I am afraid that it seems that he still has some faithful Death Eaters- new recruits, it seems, sons, grandsons and nephews of old Death eaters who serve him by night and mingle freely with us during the day. Leading a double-life. These new recruits might yet give him the power of victory- something, that you must realize, we do not want.'
Mentally, Hermione rolled her eyes. Uh, Duh.
'Well, we have our suspicions as to who a majority of these new recruits are. Though, of course, we aren't sure. And that's where you come in.'
'me?'
'Yes you. You see, we need someone who can watch them most of the time, and stay with them. Of course, the best idea we felt, would be to have them married by the power of law.'
'Married?'
'Yes, of course. It's an ideal idea, suggested my Albus Dumbledore. We needed to a group of responsible, trusted woman, who would get legally married to these suspected new-recruits, and help us find out whether they were Death eaters or not.'
'What?' Hermione squeaked. She had never heard of such an absurd plan.
'You heard me. Albus and I made a list of the woman we would trust to handle such a job. Yours is first.'
'You mean I have to get- married- to a suspected Death eater?"
'You heard me,' Fudge said, again. 'Since your name is first, we are having you married to one of the most likely Death Eaters...it will be a massive responsibility.'
Hermione closed her eyes and willed herself not to vomit. 'Who?' she asked, her eyes still shut. The answer make them pop wide open.
'Draco Malfoy,'
