A/N: Welcome to my new story, I know I should be working on my other one but this one I liek so much better (My other story "New Territory" is a crime against literature, I think). Just a few quick things to remember... In cannon, Draco's birthday is June 5, 1980 he is younger than Hermione, who out of the trio is the oldest, born September 19, 1979 (I only say that because in most fanfics I read, people have Draco older than Hermione). I speak intermediate French so apologies to anyone if it sucks (for those that don't speak it at all, it's very little French, you'll be fine). I've disregarded book 6, and so I won't hold you much longer…

Disclaimer: I will only type this once for the entire story…I do not own any original Harry Potter characters, places, or ideas. I am in no way affiliated with J.K. Rowling (like anyone would believe I was)

Chapter 1: The Trial and the Girl

June 3, 1997

Draco nervously twisted the silver ring around his finger as he looked around the trial room. It was a laughable predicament really, in two days time he was supposed to be graduating from Hogwarts and celebrating his seventeenth birthday, a celebration of legal manhood.

Instead, here he sat, quite on display in front of the entire Wizengamot, and a rather sizeable amount of public onlookers present for the trial of death eaters, the ones that had not been killed in the battle at least. The other death eater's children that had gone before him (those also just shy of having been the age to have been under the ranks of Voldemort) had quickly given their obviously rehearsed testimony and gone down.

He looked around the large circular room and his eyes first landed on Hogwarts headmaster. Dumbledore looked at no one in particular, but had very pensive look on his face. Draco nearly scoffed at the expression on Potter's face. Pure condemnation was the only explanation. Beside him were his lackeys, Weasley and that bushy haired mudblood, Granger.

A soft sob turned his attention to the back of the room. There sat his mother, looking as well put together as she did any other day, except she was crying. Her eyes were red rimmed, and she clutched a handkerchief to her face. And directly in front of him, in the center of the room was a cage-like contraption housing the likes of at least eight death eaters; including Lucius Malfoy.

The scene before him seemed surreal, and its conclusion rest entirely in his hands…

"—and so you realize young Mr. Malfoy, that you are under oath. Do you swear to tell the truth as it is known to you in its entirety?" A murmur erupted throughout the trial room, whispers and scoffs…

"Yes, I do." He spoke a little louder over the noise in the room.

"Very well. For the record, are you Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"Are you son of Lucius Malfoy (he motioned towards the cage)?"

Draco glanced at the cage, his father's empty eyes catching his with an unreadable expression, "Yes—I am."

The prosecutor narrowed his eyes at Draco, "Are you or have you ever been a Death Eater; following the likes of recently vanquished Lord Voldemort."

Draco swallowed; the ring was now beginning to chafe his finger. He looked up again, this time into a pair of pensive blue eyes. He couldn't be sure, but he was almost certain Dumbledore had nodded at him.

"No."

An emission of coughs, scoffs, and whispers started once again. The prosecutor, who looked almost gleeful, whispered to his partner then approached the Wizengamot. After a brief exchange, he came back to stand in front of Draco.

"Would you be willing, then, to testify under the influence of Veritaserum?"

So, now the room goes quiet. Draco for some reason looked at Dumbledore, but another had seemingly captured the attention of the headmaster and it was he whose pale grey eyes were staring… nearly boring a whole into Draco's face.

"Yes." Draco's voice was so low one could almost hear the audience straining to hear him speak, but it was steady and clear. He had no idea why he complied, he just felt compelled to do so. A refusal would have surely meant he was hiding something. Arrogance had gotten the better of him; he was so skilled at Occlumency, so he thought he could no doubt thwart the effect of Veritaserum…

Wait…

What was he doing? He could not testify under Veritaserum, what if they asked him about Snape? But if he didn't, and it was found out he lied, he would no doubt also be spending a considerable amount of time within the depths of Azkaban, and that was something he refused to do, for no one.

He finally looked at his father, who by this point was doomed to Azkaban no matter what Draco did. Convicted of war crimes, murder, illegal use of dark arts…the list grew from there. But it was his father. No, he had decided, no, he simply could not do it. There was no way he would testify under that potion and risk revealing more than necessary…too late.

"Young Mr. Malfoy, please follow the Mediwitch into the chambers adjacent to this room; there you will receive the necessary dosage of Veritaserum, lasting throughout the duration of your testimony."

Draco followed her, and returned shortly thereafter. He took his place on the stand once again and waited, with sweaty palms, for the questions that followed.

"Please state your full legal name."

"Draco Orion Malfoy."

"Now Mr. Malfoy, I will ask once again. Are you or have you ever been a death eater?"

"No." (The prosecutor's gleeful expression slipped slightly)

"Are you aware, Mr. Malfoy, of the dungeons located within the depths of your home?"

"Yes."

"Please then, tell us what they were used for?"

Draco pursed his lips closed. It had begun. The prosecution was going to get every piece of information out of him that they could. He vaguely registered a bead of moisture run down the back of his neck. He desperately felt the urge to answer the question.

He tightened his mouth until he could hold it back no longer. "The dungeons were used for the torturing of Mudbloods and Muggles and—and," No, please no… "And the murder of Professor Severus Snape."

An exaggerated gasp could be heard somewhere within the confines of the room.

"And Mr. Malfoy," the prosecutor leaned forward nearly breathing his excitement onto Draco, "who are the persons responsible for those acts?"

He couldn't help himself, if he could he would have. He took a deep breath and said everything at once, "I am aware of Philip Crabbe, Gregory Goyle Senior, Frederick Nott, Peter Parkinson, and…"

Nearly everyone in the room had somehow edged toward the end of their seats, hanging onto his every word. Draco's breath had become ragged…

"Please go on Mr. Malfoy." Draco could have hexed the man for the way he relished in his misery.

"And—Lucius Malfoy."

4 Years and 6 Months later.

"It is time for Master to wake up. Master has plans to travel today." The shrill voice of Draco Malfoy's house elf drifted into his dream. He barely opened one eye and saw that the time-teller at his bedside read six o'clock in the morning.

The dull gray light that is visible at the early hours of the day had somehow managed to seep through the heavy drapes and disturbed the absolute darkness of the room.

Draco groaned to give some sign that he had awakened prompting the tiny house elf to scuttle from the room.

After dressing, he collected his belongings and stepped into the fireplace, moments later he arrived at the ministry. Floo travel during the holidays had been restricted. Since popular destinations were no doubt to be clogged, the Ministry had come up with an effective way to prevent confusion.

T he Ministry Flooport was packed. It was nearing the holidays and families bustled about cheerfully, decked out in bright holiday colors. A special holiday song by the popular wizarding band The Weird Sisters blared overhead.

Draco, who moved steadily towards his destination, seemed not to notice. He checked his ticket: Departure Terminal #7 8:15am.

"Sorry sir," a young wizard rushing by apologized for bumping his shoulder. Draco grimaced and brushed the non-existent dirt from his traveling cloak.

Once in line, he quickly became annoyed by the tacky hat sitting on the head of a short blonde witch in front of him. With no room to move back, he was trapped and became more agitated as she seemed oblivious to her attack on him.

By the third time the hat bumped him in the face, Draco spoke up. "Pardon me Miss, would you mind removing your hat?"

The witch turned around, her misty eyes widened in surprise. "Oi! Draco Malfoy. Fancy seeing you here, I thought you'd be too embarrassed to show your face in public again. Mighty glad you did though; you're a treat to look at, except for that depressing choice of robes, of course."

The witch turned around bumping him in the face once more. Glancing down at his attire, Draco felt his face grow hot. "Do I know you?"

The witch turned around and politely extended a gloved hand. "Luna Lovegood. I am owner of The Quibbler."

Draco looked at her outstretched hand but did not take it. He did not know anyone named Luna, and certainly had no idea what a "quibbler" was. "Okay. Well Ms. Lovegood that still does not explain how you know me."

Luna looked lost in thought, "Yes, I'd expect that from you. We went to Hogwart's together, six years," she cocked her head to one side which caused the light to glance off of her Christmas tree (complete with décor and a flashing star) earrings.

Suddenly an image on the Hogwart's Express flashed before him. "You're were a friend of Potter's?"

"Yes. I was also there when they cast that awful sentence on your father, serves him right. Terrible shame for you though; where do you live now?"

Draco clenched his jaw. "I would prefer it if we did not discuss my personal matters."

"I understand; if I had been forced out of my home by the Ministry I wouldn't want to talk about it either. Anyway, my number is up, great to have seen you again." And in a whirl of green flames, she was gone.

Draco raised an eyebrow. He had not realized how out of touch with people he had become. He had lost most of his 'friends' when he refused to testify the innocence of the captured death eaters, including his father. He severed ties with his mother when they had been forced out of their home in Wiltshire and began a business of his own which was coming along quite lucratively.

He was a loner, spending most of his time at work. That suited him just fine.

Draco swirled out of the fireplace, and directly into a middle aged woman. "Excuse you," he said. The woman gripped her purse a little tighter, eyeing him suspiciously. Draco rolled his eyes, "It's not safe blocking a floo exit, just so you know."

Draco turned away from the woman annoyed by her ignorance.

The hotel lobby was exquisite. The words La Palourde: La Perle de France were carved into the wall behind the front desk. Fake smiles were plastered on the faces of the desk clerks as they checked in their snooty guests.

Elegant flower arrangements were situated all around the enormous lobby and the finest dragon hide shoes clicked on the marble stone floor. However, luxury was something Draco was accustomed to. He was more impressed at how he had been standing longer than necessary holding his own belongings.

He looked around, searching for the concierge.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Malfoy." A crisp uniformed bellhop reached for his bags. "Suivez-moi, s'il vous-plait."

"You know, the reason I make reservations is so I can avoid this."

The bellhop nodded. "Oui, nous regrettons. We've taken the liberty of having a meal prepared and waiting for you in your room. We hope it will be accommodating."

Draco sneered. "I don't want that rubbish. For as long as I've been waiting, surely it has grown frostbite by now."

The two arrived at his suite, which looked very similar to a very expensive, elegant flat. Draco haphazardly flung his items onto the king sized bed and dismissed the bellhop.

He yawned as he looked around at the lavish room. The bed was large and covered in many dark green pillows, partially hidden by sheer bed curtains.

In the middle of the room, the bellhop was finished clearing the table of the spread and backed out of the room. Through an archway, there was a rather large sitting area complete with French doors. For the first time, Draco noticed a great granite mantle encasing the unlit fireplace right across from his bed.

He walked over to the window and stared down at the terrace below. He wondered how couples could dine so privately in the largely public setting.

Despite the time of year, it was fairly warm and beautiful women sunbathed nearly nude in the early Parisian sun. Yet, Draco's eyes swept impassively over the view.

His eyes continued to scan the scene until they focused on a young woman. She caught his attention because she looked oddly out of place sitting there in stiff business robes and her hair pulled back neatly.

Despite her bookish look, there was something very seductive about her. Perhaps the way she made no move to lower her robes as they slowly hiked above her knees, revealing the tops of her stockings when she crossed her legs.

Whatever is was, Draco decided he wanted to meet her, and within minutes exited onto the terrace below.

The outside area was more crowded than it had seemed from an above view. It took several minutes before he located the table where he first saw the woman, but she had vanished.

Draco stood beside the table, and his eyes roamed the terrace patio in search of the witch.

"Damn-it." He cursed out loud. His voice startled a nearby young server into action.

"I-I'm sorry sir, what can I get for you?" She whipped out a parchment-pad and a self-inking quill.

Draco waved dismissively at her. He wandered into the lobby area several moments later, only to find a room full of annoying tourists.

Late morning had brought many more travelers from all over, some wearing holiday colors, some not, but all in a merry mood. Draco looked up as he headed towards a lift and caught sight of the suited witch hurrying towards an open door.

He tried to run but was momentarily slowed by a group of passing families that clogged the lobby.

Clang. The heavy doors slammed just as he reached the lift.

Draco looked up and watched the light indicator stop on several floors. "Shit," he said to himself, "I can't believe I'm doing this…this is ridiculous."

"Well, there's room on this lift young man." A smiling wizard couple held the doors open for him.

"I'll take the stairs," he said, and left the couple staring after him.

No sooner than Draco had taken a seat in his suite and began to rustle through parchments, did he receive a knock on his door.

He heaved a great sigh in annoyance, "What?"

"Pardonnez Monsieur Malfoy, the Minister Fudge here to see you." The bellhop that had shown him to his room that morning stood in the doorway.

"Send him in." Draco stood anticipating the arrival of his acquaintance and business partner from Spytex, Draco's company.

A short man entered. His brown hair was parted and combed neatly to one side. Decked out in a navy blue robes and a red tie, he looked like the perfect politician.

The Minister walked into the room and stopped at the entrance, letting out a long whistle. "Some place you got here."

"Bartholomew, good of you to come, mate." Draco said, offering a seat across from his own.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, after all, a third of my galleons are tied up in it, am I right?" The Minister laughed heartily at his own joke.

Draco managed a smile, "too right, so what am I to expect for this upcoming week? When do I make the announcement?"

Regaining his serious composure once again, the Minister quickly pulled a schedule from his breast pocket. "Well, first off, I've appointed a new Wizard Relations executive, got their N.E.W.T. in business at Hogwart's. Recommended by the old headmaster himself--"

"Name?" Draco interrupted, wanting to know if he may know him.

The Minister looked thoughtful for a while, "It's escaped me at the mo', but you'll meet them before the day is done." He glanced down at his pocket time teller. "In a few moments WR will reveal the Intellitruder line, and the rest of the week will be basically foreign buyer's market," he looked up at Draco and smiled, "should go over smoothly."

The conference chamber was a large room that smelled of expensive perfumes and colognes. It was filled with important witches and wizards that chattered anxiously, waiting for the unveiling of Spytex's newest invention.

"Ah, Copernicus! I've someone I want you to meet." Minister Fudge grabbed Draco by the elbow, pulling him forward into the crowd at the door. "This here is Draco Malfoy," he nudged Draco in the ribs, "Copernicus Whortley's the old codger that introduced me to my ex-wife."

The two friends laughed.

Draco turned to the man, extending his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." The Minister and his friend engaged in conversation, giving Draco time to ease back against the wall.

As the last person entered the room, the Minister heaved a sigh of relief. "I was beginning to think you were a no show."

The bookish looking witch that Draco had spent the morning chasing stood before them. "Draco, this is—I'm sorry dear, I've forgotten your name…?"

The little color in Draco's face disappeared somewhere below the neckline of his robes. The witch's face remained impassive as she looked at Draco. "Hermione Granger, Wizard Relations for Spytex, but of course we're familiar."

However, he maintained a cool expression on his face, never breaking eye contact.

"That's it. Hermione Granger, I can never seem to get your name dear," said Minister Fudge.

"I'm sure you'll get it. Excuse me Minister. Mr. Malfoy." She said as she made her way over to the podium.

"Huh," said the Minister, scratching his chin, "did she say you were two familiar?"

Draco nodded through a forced smile as he took his seat beside the Minister and waited for Hermione to start her presentation.

Hermione cleared her throat into the sonophone, "Good afternoon wizards and witches. As you all know, today is the day…" Draco zoned out and drifted into his own thoughts.

He sat, flummoxed at what had just occurred. Hermione Granger was the woman he had been looking for half of the day. He felt foolish and sort of embarrassed. In school, he prided himself in his own dislike of her simply because of her background and her friends. To make matters worse, she had been his only competition when it came to academics, a mudblood no less. Yet here now, he could not bring himself to loathe her completely. He leaned back and watched her head move as she talked.

He let his eyes travel down her backside. He gave himself a satisfied smirk; she certainly had not changed much in the time since Hogwart's. She wore sensible-heeled dress shoes. In fact, the only time he ever did see her dressed up was in their fourth year…

She wore a practical set of business robes, loosely fit (just a tad better than the bags she wore at Hogwart's). Although her robes reached just below the knee, her legs were visible…

Minister Fudge nudged him in the rib cage again, startling Draco from his thoughts. The room was standing in applause, everyone beaming at him.

Hermione had successfully launched Spytex's newest addition in Home-Office Surveillance. Wizards everywhere had the opportunity to protect their homes and businesses from intruders, at a considerable rate.

Draco took to the podium, "Thank you. No, please. First off, I'd like to thank you all…"

Afterwards, the conference moved to the dining hall for drinks and refreshments. Unfamiliar wizards and witches steadily came up to Draco congratulating him on the announcement of his ownership. Draco had thought it wise that after the war, he keep a low profile, at least until his business had turned a profit, so until that day Fudge had been known as the only owner of the company.

After just one glass of the finest elf-made wine, Draco retreated to his room exhausted from his day.

Draco emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his neck and loosely fit black pants. He glanced at the fire place and decided against calling up someone to start it (magically starting a fire in the hotel fireplaces was forbidden). He was worn out and decided to go straight to bed.

"Bloody hell," Draco cursed aloud as someone knocked on the door. "Who's there?"

"I've got something for you." It was Hermione.

Draco looked in the mirror and instinctively combed at his hair with his fingers. He opened the door wearing a blasé expression. "Yeah?"

Hermione held up a stack of parchment. "You left before we could give you a copy of the schedule for the market."

"Oh."

"Alright then." She nodded and turned to walk away.

Draco spoke before he could stop himself. "What are you doing here, really Granger?"

Hermione spoke as she turned. "What do you mean, 'what am I doing?' I'm working."

"You don't seem very surprised to see me."

She crinkled her nose. "Why should I be?"

"This is my first public announcement as owner of Spytex, I didn't know you were so well informed."

"Well, I am head of a department in your company; I suppose I am privy to certain bits of 'top-secret-information'," she said, making air quotes.

Draco did not look amused.

"Goodnight Malfoy."

He frowned. "Wait a minute. After everything you managed to come out of Hogwart's in business? You just don't seem like the business type."

"Why not, didn't you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. It seemed to be a very valid question, and he had no answer.

Hermione raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Goodnight, see you tomorrow," she said and walked away.

"Tomorrow," he said as he shut the door and climbed into bed, forgetting her immediately.

Draco's sheets were dampened from perspiration. Kicking off the covers, he shuffled to the window and opened it; the strong breeze immediately caused the curtain to billow. The wave of moonlight cast eerie shadows throughout the room.

"What the hell?" As Draco turned to go back to bed, he startled to find a woman with long dark hair standing in front of the lit fireplace. Draco backed up as she began to walk towards him, the firelight shrouded her in shadow, save for the out line of red lips.

The breeze had cooled the room greatly, and also caused the satiny red gown of the woman to mold against her frame.

Draco's knees hit the back of the bed just as the woman reached him, causing him to fall backward.

He noticed the woman's breasts strained against the fabric, as they acknowledged the coolness of the room. He struggled to swallow, his mouth had gone suddenly dry.

She sought out his hands, interlacing her fingers within his, and began to crawl forward.

As she moved up Draco's body, the warm fabric of her gown rubbed against his chest. He prepared himself for her kiss when he felt her breath on his face…

"What the…" Draco woke up early the next morning shivering. The moon cast enough light for him to find his covers kicked aside. He looked longingly at the unlit fireplace wishing he had called someone to light it the previous night.

Suddenly, he leapt from the bed brandishing his wand like a mad swordsman. A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. The curtains at the window were billowing wildly, causing a light flapping sound.

Draco let his arm fall limp at his side. "This is mental."

Slamming the window shut, Draco turned around and ran his fingers through his hair. He struggled to remember his dream, but only recalled the red stained lips of a woman.

He tossed his wand aside and settled back into bed, skeptical of having any more dreams.

A/N: Thank you for reading! So what did you think? Are you interested? If you are go ahead and leave a review, I'd be happy to answer questions or read any critical reviews…Thanks so much.