"Now now, Amycus, Granger may be a dirty little mudblood; but she was also the only one who was able to top me in all of our classes. So if anything she has likely adds a few more brain cells to your lifeless head." All eyes in the room spun to face the younger Malfoy, leaving Hermione surprised and increasingly suspicious. Without waiting for her to say anything Malfoy spoke again, "Shut your mouth Granger or you'll start catching flies, and however amusing it would be to watch you choke; we need you." If she was shocked before, now she was flabbergasted. She made her way backwards to the bed and practically collapsed onto it, and if you were listening closely you would if heard her murmuring nonsense under her breath.
Suddenly she had an idea. She marched up to Dean, reaching down towards his belt. He couldn't back away because he was in a corner, but he was pressing himself back as far into the wall as possible.
"Woah there cowgirl, maybe later with a few less people around, huh?" Hermione looked up and caught his eye, a cheeky grin on her face. She ran her hand along his belt, underneath his jacket, pulling him towards her away from the wall. Dean was too shocked by her actions to do anything other than lean into her arms. Her small fingers wrapped around something that was stored in his belt and she snuck it away into her pocket so that only Dean had seen what she was doing. She slowly removed her hand from underneath his jacket, silently enjoying the feel of his body under her hands, a feeling that was clearly mutual by Dean's reaction to her proximity. Finally before moving away she pulled his head down and kissed him on the cheek, whispering in his ear, "thanks, cowboy." With that she moved away from him, wrapping her jacket and the contents within closer to herself. Subconsciously Dean followed Hermione, standing close behind her as she approached their hostages.
She spoke loudly and clearly so that all three tied up captives could hear her. "I can fight my own battles thank you. Don't talk, I'm speaking now, and you are in no position to retaliate Malfoy. Now, you need me. Why? Short answer if you will." She looked between Narcissa and Draco awaiting a response, but none came. "Okay well I will be contacting my supervisor now and you can be sure that he will send you straight to Azkaban, maybe even to the Dementors no questions asked. Now talk."
"God Granger, who is your supervisor, Weasley? Hah! Imagine that, the brain dead, blood traitor a supervisor to the brightest witch of our age! Though it would make for some steamy fantasies to come true for you, huh?" The look on Hermione's face after his outburst, and the death glare that Dean was sending him, caused Narcissa and Draco to share a contemplative glance before Draco spoke again in a much more serious tone than his previous more jovial one. "After good ol' no-nose died father took a turn for the worse. He tried to find a way to get him back; searched for horcruxes you might have missed, rallying followers and his new master plan." At this point Narcissa took over.
"One day he came home and told us to pack everything, waving his wand like nobody's business, taking down enchantments and smashing anything containing dark magic. I thought 'this is it we are finally leaving and giving up this madness,' but no. He activated a port key and took us to some unused factory filled with black eyed men and women. It turns out that Lucius had been planning to give up Malfoy manor to run away here in America."
Hermione remembered the day that word was sent to the Aurors that the wards on the manor were finally down. Her entire department were teamed up and sent into the surrounding area to take down the infamous Malfoy family. However when they entered the building they did not find the cult like family and its followers, they only found the shell of a tortured home and a few dead bodies in the dungeons. It was a bad day for the Aurors, and consequently for the ministry. There was no trace found of the family; their belongings, their whereabouts, or their fellow death eaters. Until Hermione began looking into a group of wizards who produced illegal portkeys that left little to no magical trace behind, taking down the leader of the group and pointing her in the direction of North Carolina. It was here that she had discovered the remnants of the Death Eaters and had managed to write off five before her big fight with Lucius, sending them back home to Azkaban.
"Why are you telling me this? Don't you want to protect him; he is your husband after all." Hermione focussed on Narcissa, hoping that she would tell her what she needed. The older woman's eyes flickered around the room, looking suspiciously at Sam and Dean, but finally settling on Hermione who was stood in front of her. Sighing she gave in.
"He may look like my husband, but that monster Tom Riddle destroyed any hope of keeping a relationship between us. It has gone too far, what is dead should be left dead." Surprisingly Draco nodded, seemingly agreeing with the statement, leaning into his mother for comfort. After witnessing the unusual display of affection between mother and son Hermione was once again hit by a realisation of how difficult the war must have been for everyone included, even the apparently emotionless Malfoys. She followed in a slightly softer tone, suddenly feeling sympathetic for the pair in front of her.
"So you are willing to share any information with me to help me bring in Lucius?" She directed the question at Narcissa, but it was Draco who answered.
"If you can find a way to get us a good sentence, with an eventual release then we will agree to help you find and incarcerate Lucius Malfoy." The sentence was said with so much conviction that it was clear that this was something that had been previously discussed and planned out. Hermione was about to strike a deal with the Malfoys when the other prisoner kicked up.
He rose from his chair, a wand in hand, and the ropes that were binding him falling limp on the stained carpet at his feet. Amycus laughed manically, pointing his wand at Hermione slowly advancing towards her. In a crazed voice so quiet he was almost whispering he spoke, "No one moves. No one moves or the girl is dead."