Hello again, and onto the Third Chapter. This is from Draco's POV, and it takes place a while after the last chapter. The 4th chapter will skip back to Hermione's POV, and will tell her story from where it had left off in the 2nd chapter. Savvy? You guys are smart, you'll be able to keep up.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter!

Draco Malfoy stared at the lift's doors closing in front of him, assuming a perfectly calm and composed persona on the outside, not letting his usual irritable mood show. He pushed the glowing button labeling level 4 on the lift's wall of the Ministry of Magic. The Minister's Office, currently held by the incompetent idiot Voldemort had appointed, Pius. No one else had stepped up to take the job, and so day after day, Draco was forced to keep his anger in check as the Ministry's upkeep slowly disintegrated into ruin. Draco had to speak to the minister now about the addition of more dungeons in the very basement of the Ministry.

It had been nearly five months after The Battle of Hogwarts, and regaining power had not been easy. After Voldemort's death, Bellatrix had been appointed unanimous leader, though some painful persuasion was needed. She recalled the Death Eaters back from Hogwarts; after Potter had disappeared with the mudblood Granger, there was no real use fighting a bunch of under-age school boys and girls other than to make a point. Instead, they targeted the Ministry. Taking over London and the surrounding areas had been easy. All members of the Order were busy rebuilding the damage done at the school and burying their dead, not thinking that the Death Eaters would be capable to taking down the ministry after Voldemort's death.

Stupid sentimental fools. They don't realize the danger that they're in. Draco thought bitterly. They've sacrificed their way of life to bury a few dead mudbloods.

The lift's doors opened, and in walked two more men.

One was a feeble old man who had worked at the ministry previous to the takeover, but had been pardoned on account of his pledging to the Dark Lord's forces and his renouncement of his former beliefs. He had still gotten off easier than most, though his arms still showed the signs of the muggle torture that Bellatrix had ordered upon him. Other's were cruciated until they went insane, and then locked away in the very confines of Azkaban. Some were killed quickly and mercifully, and some were made prisoners of work camps where they died of exhaustion or starvation after a few weeks. Draco looked coldly at the old man, who looked down, quaking in fear and nervously fidgeting.

The other man in the lift was a snatcher, Silas by name, a great ugly brute who would go seek out muggles and mudbloods in hiding. Silas nodded at Draco, who regarded him with a cold indifference, and did not nod back.

Being Bellatrix's nephew, he was given an extremely high position in the Death Eater's ranks and felt no need to acknowledge anyone with a lower position. The others understood and respected that, staying out of his way, his reputation preceded him; a ruthless, cold-blooded killer.

The lift stopped with a soft jolt, and Draco strided out onto the level with a quick gait, headed towards a pair of oaken doors at the end of a long hallway. Reaching them, he knocked two short raps, then, waiting for no invitation, strode in, shutting the doors behind him.

A large chair faced the fire with the back towards Draco. "Good afternoon, Minister. Or should I say evening? It is rather late, isn't it." His cold tone could have frozen the very air in the room. The chair slowly swiveled around to let Draco look upon the man in it. "I'm afraid the minister is a bit, how shall I say, indisposed at the moment. He won't be back for a rather long time, I should think. Have a seat, Mr. Malfoy."

The man gestured into the seat opposite him. Draco allowed a slight smirk to play across his face, until it diminished back into its familiar stone mask. "And they gave you the spot then, did they Crouch? Don't you think that is unwise, with your condition and all." The scorn in Draco's voice was clearly noticeable. Barty Crouch Jr. had been released from Azkaban when the Death Eater's had taken over. "I wished to speak to Pius, not to you, you miserable creature. Where's Bellatrix?"

The disdain shown on the face of the man in the chair infuriated Draco. "Crawling to Auntie Lestrange now, are you? Not very grown up, not very grown up at all really. Can't fight your own battles, little Draco. More like a snake than a dragon."

Draco let no emotion show on his face as he stared back at the taunting man. Let him have his fun. He won't be laughing for long. "How would you like to be thrown down in the dungeons with the other filth and rats? That ought to suit you quite well, considering how you truly behave."

Crouch's bravado wavered for a moment, but he quickly regained himself. "Rat? I'd rather be a rat than a cowardly snake. Oh, you're a coward all right. A stupid, useless, cowardly-" Crouch got no further with his insults, for he screaming before he hit the ground. Draco's eyes were filled with a cold fire as bright as the curse emanating from his raised wand. The man before him writhed and screamed, and only until Crouch had screamed himself hoarse did Draco life his curse. Crouch's sniffling slowly diminished, until he was a shivering wreck. Without a word, Draco turned his back on the wretched man in front of him, and strode out of the door, as quickly as he had come in, leaving the sound of broken cries behind him.

He was halfway down the long hallway when he heard his name. "Mr. Malfoy! Mr. Malfoy!" One of his aunt's associates was rushing down the hallway towards him. He halted a few feet away from him, not intimidated by his demeanor. "Your aunt wishes to speak with you, she's waiting in the Pit. Immediately, Mr. Malfoy." Having delivered his message, he turned to go, until Draco's voice made him turn.

"I'm not sure I-" he was cut off by the man, who, smiling, said "You may call me Septimius."

Draco halted. Stupid fool. As if I care who he is. "Well, Septimius, if you would be so kind as to do me a favor, you may find a mess in the Ministers office to dispose of. If you're kind, dispose of it in the dungeons, the wretch hasn't got much to live for anyway. I would've gotten rid of it, but I can't be distracted from my duties for, shall I say, my own amusement."

Nodding to the man, he changed his direction and headed down toward the Pit, where all the captive mudbloods, blood-traitors and muggles were kept until they were of no further use to the Ministry. They were then distributed like cattle between the work camps around the country. Thanks to the snatchers, there was a constant supply.

He wound his way down the twisted stair, down, down, down, until he was deposited into a large stone chamber. Cages lined the walls, and torches illuminated the shadowy figures behind the bars. Mudbloods and traitors filled the small cages, 4 to a cell, wallowing in their own filth. A few Death Eaters were bringing in a new group brought in by snatchers, and Bellatrix was among the lot, examining the prisoners.

Draco headed towards his aunt, who was now deep in a heated conversation with one of the Snatchers, who suddenly reeled backwards as Bellatrix's hand shot up and found it's mark on the man's exposed face. Draco watched the exchange with a slightly bemused expression. Only when the snatcher had backed off, did Draco finally approach his aunt. She turned towards him with an expression of fury, but it softened slightly as she saw her nephew.

"You called for me, Aunt Bella?" this was said with a sarcastic air, for he truly disliked his aunt. Not like his hate for mudbloods and muggles, but a special hate, one he had nursed ever since he was young. His aunt in his opinion was too sanctimonious for her own good, and had always treated Draco as a child. Ever since his father's disgrace, Bellatrix had turned her back on his family, not even acknowledging her own sister, and had only given Draco the position he now held because of the Dark Lord's favoritism towards him. When Voldemort died, Draco knew that he would be the one to succeed his place, but he would have to wait until his aunt had had her fill. Then, she would be removed from the picture, leaving Draco with the clear path as the new 'Dark Lord'. Draco's thoughts were interrupted as Bellatrix began to talk to him.

"Draco, darling." His aunt purred. "A matter has come to light on a most delicate situation, one that may require your expertise I could say. Tell me now, do you recognize this person?" She stepped aside to reveal someone pulled from the line of captives. The shorn and unwashed hair covered most of the bruised face, and the person was hunched over from sheer exhaustion, but as Draco grew closer, instead of shying away from him, it raised its head and looked him directly in the eye. Neither fear nor disgrace was shown in the person's features, and even a small bit of pity for him, which enraged him.

And though the ragged appearance and dirty face at first was enough to throw Draco off, there was no mistaking the scornful brown eyes that had plagued him all throughout his school years. He was staring straight at Hermione Granger.

Thanks for reading, please review and tell me what you thought.

The next chapter is going to be a flashback of Hermione's, so don't be confused, all will be explained :)

I will try to update as soon as humanly possible, but I can't promise anything yet.