May 1710

It was on hazy, humid nights like these that young Cornelius Malfoy couldn't sleep. The breeze filtering through his window did nothing to prevent the sweat covering his body and it made him feel dirty. He had spent two hours in a large bath being tended to by the maidens of Malfoy Manor only to be defiled and betrayed by his own body during the night. A horrendous waste, if he didn't say so himself. He could always rouse the maidens and have another bath. Not only would it provide a bodily comfort, it would provide a bodily comfort. Cornelius' smile was wider than his mouth could naturally allow and he slipped himself out of bed. He picked up his tailor-made wand –a mahogany-wooded vessel with a phoenix feather –lit its tip and traversed the ancient halls of Malfoy Manor.

It was unheard of for a Malfoy to have to retrieve anything himself. Every member of the Malfoy family had a nighttime staff; someone to stand within the bedroom of said Master or Mistress in case one awoke to some sort of need. Cornelius on the other hand was unconventional and found it unsettling to have someone gaze upon him as he slept. Not to mention he usually gained a good night's rest; lacking in tosses and turns, night terrors, or any sort of need. But tonight was the one night where he had a desire and was therefore forced to fulfill it himself.

Another unprecedented thing for a Malfoy was to know where the servants' quarters were. Not a single Malfoy in all their history knew where they were located, but, once again, being the mischievous child that grew into the more mischievous man, Cornelius knew. He often found himself wandering about the Manor as a child when no one was watching him and he stumbled upon where those who doted on his family lived. The location –a long, sun/moonlit corridor well beneath the Manor –had been committed to memory. Reasons for taking unscheduled trips to the forbidden fortress varied over the years. As a boy it was to cause havoc. He had come into his magic early and had been given a wand. That wand had been used to make maidens wonder why the window that had just been closed had been opened again. It ruined previously clean linens and clothing and broke precious objects. As he grew older it was to satisfy his growing lust as he became a frequent voyeur. Eventually he became less of a voyeur and more of a participant. He was never allowed to partake in the company of the fine female specimen of his social class unless it was his betrothed. Seeing as he wouldn't meet his betrothed until the following month on his eighteenth birthday, he had ravished plenty of his maidens.

And so, as he finally made it to the servants' quarters in order to procure a bath and subsequently a late night rendezvous, Cornelius halted his steps. A familiar odor had reached his nose and he was utterly taken aback. He sniffed the air, then taking long regal strides until he found the source of the smell. He eventually found the bedroom –three stone walls, one window, and well-made door out of oak –of a maiden who had only been in Malfoy possession for a month. Cornelius opened the door and stood in the doorway, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

He had only seen this maiden once and knew her name to be Matilda. She had long, wavy, and messy brown hair and dark brown eyes to match. She wore what the other maidens typically slept in –an off-white nightgown sown together from old linens none of the Malfoys wanted anymore that stopped at the ankles. What had caused his eyes to widen wasn't at her beauty –because she was indeed very pretty –but at the fact that she was hovering over a small cauldron. A tiny fire was lit under it, fueled by grass and other bits of shrubbery and old parchment. She was throwing in various ingredients and stirring.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Cornelius suddenly demanded. Matilda looked up in surprise and gasped. Her face morphed into absolute fear and horror as she glanced from her cauldron and to the young master of the house.

"I…I…I am sorry, Young Master Malfoy." Matilda babbled. "One of the maidens is sick. I only wanted to make something to ease her discomfort. I am most terribly sorry."

Cornelius stared at the sobbing girl in front of him. He fully entered the room and closed the door behind him. He didn't speak again until a silencing charm was in place. "Only muggles are indentured servants here." Cornelius said firmly. "Are you not of muggle lineage?"

"Indeed I am, Young Master Malfoy." Matilda nodded, her eyes not daring to meet his. "It has always been so within my family. A muggle father, a muggle mother, and a muggle offspring. I am a muggle."

"And yet you are adept at potion-making." Cornelius pointed out. Matilda let out a soft sob yet again and rubbed her hands anxiously on her thighs.

"I did not know I was partaking in witchcraft. I merely wanted my fellow maiden to become well."

Cornelius took in the young girl crying on her knees. He eyed the potion to her left and noted both the color and the texture. For a muggle, her witch instincts were exquisite. He had no doubt that the sick maiden would recover from whatever ailed her. That is if the potion was continued…

"Finish it."

Matilda slowly looked up at him with her brows knitted in confusion. "P-pardon?"

Cornelius motioned towards the potion and then conjured a stool for him to sit himself on. He sat in the corner of the young maiden's room with a regal stance and ordered her yet again. "The potion, finish it."

Matilda blinked twice and after making sure his request was sincere and did as she was told. Cornelius watched in awe as she continued tossing and pouring various items into the cauldron. Most of the ingredients, he noticed, came from nature –the tails of small creatures, an eye or two, perhaps saliva. Some, he scoffed to himself, came from the private stores of the Malfoy Pantry. A bold girl… Cornelius thought. He continued to stare as Matilda put out the flames under the cauldron with pats of her hands. Using the bottom of her nightgown to hold the hot cauldron, she poured its contents into four vials and corked them. He saw that they, too, came from the Malfoy Pantry.

One of the vials she held in her hands and then frightfully spoke to Cornelius. "M-may I give this to her, Young Master Malfoy?"

"Yes, you may."

Matilda rose to her feet with the potion in her hand and exited the room. Cornelius waited. Less than five minutes had passed before the young girl came back into the room. She sat beside the cauldron as she had been sitting previously and cupped her hands on her lap.

"The maiden?" Cornelius inquired.

"Color ran into her cheeks the moment the potion was drunk." Matilda answered, her gaze towards the ground. "I believe she will be well by morning, Young Master Malfoy."

"How did you know what ingredients to use? How did you know that this would work at all?"

"I did not." She answered softly. "But, if I may be honest, it felt like the right thing to do."

Cornelius suddenly rose from his seat, the sound of the stool screeching loudly in his ears. He didn't fail to notice Matilda's flinch and he walked over to her. With a gentle bow of his body, he lowered himself to her and lifted her chin so that he could look into her face.

"Only a witch can do what you have done tonight." Cornelius told her. "The fact that you have done this with no prior training shows that you are a gifted one. Tell no one what you are able to do."

Matilda nodded. Cornelius left her room and proceeded to take the long journey back to his bedroom. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he wouldn't have believed it. He had heard tales of muggles having magical skill, but truth be told he thought it to be purely stories. He then thought of the monstrosity that had to have occurred for her condition. Magic ran in blood. Somewhere in the maiden's family history a wizard must have lain with a muggle woman or vice versa. Perhaps the child was magical. Perhaps not. It could have remained dormant until the magic was manifested in the young muggle Matilda who had mastered a potion he himself had found difficult to properly concoct.

It was unimaginable. A truly gifted witch indeed.

May 2004

"Merlin, Granger!What the hell did you put in this thing?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she slapped her palm to her forehead. When she removed her hand she saw the blonde git wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and wearing a most sour expression.

"Since when have you known potions to ever have a pleasant taste?" Hermione asked him. She shoved the potion back into his hand and placed her hands on her hips. "Now do you want to stop seeing double or not?"

"Damn right I do; seeing one of you is punishment enough." Draco said as he took a deep breath and drained the potion's contents. Hermione stared at him as his face contorted with disgust. She kept her smile hidden as she took the bottle from him and set it on her workstation. For the first time in his life, his face had finally reflected his terrible personality. Had it been better she could actually find herself attracted to his smoky grey eyes, pearl white smile, and his strong, chiseled features. Too bad.

"Feel better yet?"

"Yeah," Draco grumbled. He set his head back on the chair's headrest and sighed. He tried his hardest not to come back injured when out in the field for two reasons: not to see Hermione and not have to digest whatever concoction was sitting in her cupboards. Unfortunately he was in her Healing quarters at least twice a week. And yet, despite his grumblings he found himself antsy if by chance he made it one work week without bodily harm. He was so used to other Aurors shunning him and leaving him to his own devices that it was nice to talk to someone –even if it was Granger of all people. An offensive comment here, a glare and sarcastic retort there, a rebuttal, an exasperated sigh and scowl, and then a short-lived calm before the next storm. That's how the exchanges went with them repeatedly and it exercised both his wit and capacity to tolerate others. A win-win situation if he didn't say so himself.

"Can I go now?"

"No, not yet. A quick test first."

"Geez, Granger, I see one of you now. I'm better."

Hermione arched a brow and then pursed her lips. "Mhmm, then look at this and tell me what you see."

Draco groaned as Hermione began rummaging through her drawers for something. A second later she pulled out a large piece of parchment with a letter on it. She held it up in her hands for him to see all the while standing quite a ways from him. He stared at it, seeing only one letter, but then he blinked rapidly as his vision split in two and he saw a Hermione in both visual fields as well as the letter. He saw her knowing smirk doubly and hated her twice as much now as she set the letter aside and walked back over to her desk.

"I'm sending you home, Malfoy." Hermione said. He saw her scribbling something and then charming a note to fold itself into a paper plane and then zoom out of her door. "Your vision is okay up close, but it's downright awful from a distance. You'll be fine by tomorrow."

"You must be enjoying this." Draco huffed as he sat up and slid his legs to one side of the long chair. "Giving me orders that I'm expected to obey."

"Well, if you want to get your arse blown off because you can't see the booby-trap less than five feet away from you, then be my guest."

Draco sucked his teeth and stared at her. Yeah, she enjoyed it alright. He sighed and then got up from the chair. "I'll see you before the week is out, Granger."

"Try not to be a baby next time." Hermione called to him before he had fully exited her workroom and closed the door after him. She shook her head once he was gone and sat down behind her desk. She didn't know why after all this time she was surprised that Draco had ended up working at the Ministry. There were only so many occupations that wizards ventured into once their schooling was over. It was either one of the many departments that the Ministry had to offer, as a St. Mungo's Healer, opening some sort of boutique in a wizarding center like Diagon Alley, or a teacher of some sort. Seeing as the Ministry had several outlets to serve a plethora of human abilities, it was where most wizards ended up –Draco becoming one of those very wizards.

Despite not being very well-liked, no one could deny that Draco had enviable skills. Of those skills, a wondrous knowledge base of the Dark Arts was especially helpful within the Aurors Department. He worked as part of the Extraction Division. He and his coworkers scavenged any Auror-raided areas and searched it for any unsavory and dangerous items. Hermione had once been offered a position in the same division seeing as she was keen on research and could delve deeply into the origin and manifestation of such terrifying objects that caused severe damage (or, as in Draco's case, mild harm). Hermione didn't care much for field work and was quite adamant about it. Instead she was a one-woman Healing and Research division. She healed those that got hurt –maladies that didn't require hospitalization –and did a copious amount of research on the items garnered from the Extraction Division so as how to properly handle them and prevent further injuries.

Despite being good at what he did, somehow Draco ended up in her workroom every week. It was never too serious and she was able to send him on his way within an hour. Hermione could attribute his ailments to carelessness, but he was a meticulous individual. The most dangerous artefacts were always handled with care, and yet how could he so haphazardly let his bare fingers glide over a gemstone that made his vision split in two? If she didn't say so herself, Draco liked coming to see her. And it was that sentiment that gave Hermione her laugh of the day.

Author's note: Well, welcome yet again to another one of my stories! And if this is your first time reading anything of mine, hi there :D. I had a writing spree during the summer and this was one of them. Finally decided to post it. There's quite a bit of looking into Draco's family history here, so I hope it's as entertaining for you to read as it was for me to write :)

Reviews are most welcome!

-WP