December 1710

"I have seen the seamstresses' work on your gown for the engagement celebration." Cornelius said as he strolled around Malfoy Manor's expansive garden with his fiancée, Amelia. She was smiling radiantly as she took his hand in hers.

"It is marvelous work." Amelia beamed. "With the amount of jewels sown onto it, it will shine beautifully. With a bit of magic it will sparkle no matter the day or night."

"As you wish, my dear Amelia."

It would be he to put the finishing magical touches on the gown for her. Despite also being a witch, it was customary that women didn't practice active magic. No wandwork and therefore not a single spell. They were encouraged to practice potion-making, however. And even then it was only ever in healing. As Amelia continued to speak endlessly about how she couldn't wait to celebrate their pending union, Cornelius' mind was elsewhere. It was on the talented muggle witch who lived deep beneath his Manor.

Having piqued his interest, Cornelius had made several visits to see the young maiden over the past few months. He often brought her various ingredients and laid them out on the ground. Sitting on a stool he would sit back and give her a specific potion to make and tell her to do what felt right. Matilda was hesitant every time he asked, but she did as he ordered her to do. During her task he would prod her. He'd ask why a particular ingredient or why to crush a specific herb to a fine powder instead of cutting it. One night Matilda, full of fear and apologies at her forwardness, had asked if she could use his wand for just a moment. Cornelius was baffled by the request, but he composed himself quickly. With an incline of his head as a sign of acquiescence, he handed over his wand to her. She waved where she was supposed to, and she tapped where and how she was supposed to. Each time Matilda finished a potion, Cornelius was convinced that it was perfect. She was perfect.

Matilda was a rare gem and Cornelius couldn't help but be entranced by her. It was more than her capabilities as a witch, but also because she was different than any woman he had ever met. She was quiet, for one thing. He was used to chatty women (albeit not in an inappropriate sense), who spoke of everything that pleased them. What pleased them were what he now considered shallow wants and desires. Matilda on the other hand rarely spoke in Cornelius' presence unless asked a question, and even then her phrases were few. When she did speak however, it was with a soft richness that he found quite soothing. As for her beauty, it was immaculate. What flesh her nightgown didn't cover wasn't as spotless as Amelia's. It was full of blemishes, possibly from the hard, makeshift bed made out of straw and discarded cloth from the Manor's residents. Although clean in the morning, flecks of dirt littered her skin by the end of the night. Her hair was messy and ill-kempt and she looked exhausted from a long day's work. And even with all of that, Cornelius found a pretty face. It housed innocent eyes, full cheeks, and a sweet smile. What topped it all off for him was her determination. Since granting her permission to practice magic, she sought to be the best muggle witch possible. It was a pleasure to see.

That night after Amelia went home and the moon had been lighting up the sky for many hours, Cornelius went down to see Matilda. She sat on her bed, as she did every night, weaving pieces of grass together for entertainment. He smiled at her as he closed the door after himself and silencing the room as always. She looked up at him and paused her weaving. Her brow furrowed as she took in his form.

"No ingredients." Matilda observed. Cornelius nodded. He pulled out his wand from inside his night robe and made his way over to her.

"No more potion work." He told her as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "I would like for you to practice with this."

Matilda's eyes widened at his words and even more so when Cornelius slipped his wand into her right hand. She stared between it and his face for several seconds before uttering her next words. "You…you have been more than generous with me over these past few months. I am…most appreciative, but this…? I could not possibly… It is a line that I cannot cross."

"It is a line that I am allowing you to cross." Cornelius reassured. He enclosed the space between them and stood behind her. During their times together he had yet touch her more than a single finger to her chin. It surprised her then when he placed his hands on her hips and adjusted her body to face the weaving that was now resting idly on her bed.

"You will try a simple charm." He whispered into her ear. "It is to levitate objects. Repeat after me. Wingardium,"

"W-wingardium,"

"Leviosa,"

"L-leviosa."

"Good," Cornelius smiled, simultaneously taking in the fact that Matilda's hair smelled of fresh fruits despite its messy state. "Now say it together."

"Wingardium Leviosa,"

"Excellent. Now the wand movements. We will do this without saying the words."

Cornelius encased her hand with his and raised it, consequently the wand. He moved it slowly. "Swish and flick," He told her. His cheek was pressing against hers now and he could feel the gentle hum of her words as she repeated them. Soon he slowly backed away from her, sadly letting her hand go and then urging her on. "Do it now. Say the words and do the wand movements together."

Matilda glanced back at him for reassurance and then took a deep breath. She stared at her weaving, steadied herself, and went for it. "Wingardium Leviosa!" She said with the accompanying wand swish and flick. To her delight the weaving began to levitate, following the wand wherever she gestured.

"Oh!" She squealed happily and then turned to Cornelius, completely losing concentration and threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. As soon as she had done it Matilda was mortified. She let him go quickly and casted her gaze to the ground. "I am sorry. I was just so…happy to have done the charm correctly. Forgive me."

Matilda handed him his wand back. Cornelius wordlessly took it from her, stowed it away, and then raised her head. "You have done nothing to be forgiven for."

In a rash, albeit desired decision, Cornelius leaned forward and kissed her. It was chaste at first; something to satisfy a growing need. But soon after their lips touched, fervor leaked into their kiss and they found themselves backed onto the bedroom's wall. Matilda pulled away. However far back, she pushed her head from him despite being pinned between the wall and his eager mouth.

"We cannot." Matilda said frightfully. "You are engaged to be married. If you were not, this would be appropriate, but seeing as you are, we-"

Cornelius placed a finger to her lips to stifle her talking. He chuckled as he searched her face. It was a mélange of yearning as well as fear. The fear was warranted. As a promised gentleman, any infidelity would be punishable. Not for him, but for her. He didn't want her to get hurt, but he also didn't want to put an end to their passions either.

"I am a Malfoy." Cornelius whispered onto her skin as he nuzzled his face onto her neck. "I will do as I please." He then raised his head, softened his gaze and then smiled. "So long as you let me."

Perhaps it was the look in his eyes. Or perhaps it was his soft caresses. No. It was the fact that he had given her a choice. It was that that soothed Matilda and persuaded her to let her nightgown slip off her shoulders and down to her feet.

December 2004

Draco knew his Auror team was scoffing at him. They always were. While they wandered around a recently Auror-raided shoppe in Worchester Square, their hands were coated in a white sheen that served the magical equivalent of gloves. Everyone except Draco, that is. He hated the way the spell made his hands feel, not to mention they numbed him to Dark Magic. The artefacts that he and his team scavenged radiated magic. It was subtle, easily missed, but not untraceable. Despite the conceited connotation, Draco was the best at feeling these objects out. His fellow Aurors saw what they came to find. Draco sensed them.

With his wand Draco shifted debris caused by a fatal fight. Despite having moved a significant amount of wood, cloth, and glass, and was now seeing the plank wood floor, he still wasn't satisfied. There was something there, he knew it. He sucked his teeth and pointed his wand at the floor.

"Diffindo," He said and watched the wood crack up. Draco further pulled it apart with his hands and finally saw what was drawing him. It was a ring. It was a priceless ring. An emerald green stone implanted in a platinum band that was also infused with gold. No, the gold wasn't visible. He didn't need it to be for him to know that it was there. On the inside of the band he saw the faint inscription, À La Richesse –To Riches. It was the old Malfoy family motto before changing somewhere down the line to Sanctimonia Vincet Semper - Purity Always Conquers. And next to the inscription was the letter "M," engraved in the same emerald of the jewel that the band held. With a deep swallow, Draco made sure no one was looking, picked up the ring, and slipped it into his pocket. Although the ring had only touched his fingers for a fraction of a second, he felt the magic imbedded within it enter him. It was old magic. It was raw magic. He didn't know what the consequences of his actions would be, but as the magic surged from his fingertips, up his arms, and to the rest of his limbs, he knew it would be nothing good.

"Find anything, Malfoy?" A voice asked behind him. Draco tried not to look as caught off guard as he was and straightened up to his feet. He popped his collar up and cleared his throat.

"Nothing," He replied. His coworker eyed him suspiciously, but a quick snarl sent him on his way. Draco performed the rest of his Auror duties filled with an immense load of trepidation and guilt.

Once at home Draco set the ring on the night table next to his bed and began to pace his excessively large bedroom. His eyes darted to the ring repeatedly and he stood in front of it in awe. The ring had been the Malfoy family for generations. At least two centuries. It was never worn nor was it ever passed down to anyone. It simply remained in a glass case in a treasure room to be gazed upon but never manhandled.

Fifty years ago the ring had been mysteriously stolen. Now it was back in Malfoy possession and Draco now understood why the ring was off-limits to human touch. Ever since the ring kissed his flesh his mind seemed to wander. His vision would be clear and precise, just as it should be, and then flashes of a scene he had never once taken part in flashed across his face. He never saw enough to be sure of what he was seeing, but it was enough to figure out that it had to do with his family history. Each instance of a relived life Draco found himself walking through Malfoy Manor before its second, and perhaps even its first, reconstruction into a more modern look.

Draco grounded his teeth as he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the ring. Despite his better judgement he longed to wear it. He wanted to slip it onto his ring finger on his right hand and feel the expensive gold-infused platinum. But more than that he wanted to feel the magic that had flittered throughout his body, disappeared, and yet still left indecipherable messages in his head. With a huge pull within himself he levitated the ring and put in into his top drawer. He hoped everything would be better by morning.

Author's note: So, on the one hand, we have Cornelius doing something that he shouldn't do (although, let's face it, it is actually kind of sweet?), and then we have Draco discovering a mysterious and powerful family heirloom. It's all a matter of time to find out how these two things are related ;)

Hope that you're liking the story so far!

-WP