Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter = JK; Plot = Mikey

Author's Note:

Hey there! I'm so excited about this chapter! I changed the plot and re-wrote it three times before I was happy with it! I had already posted it, but as i was rereading it I came upon all sorts of typos so I had to go back and fix it. I apologize to everybody who read the rougher version. I was just really anxious to get something posted. Anyways, the story takes a turn from here on out. More info and less relationship details for the time being so bear with me. All will be revealed in due time :)

Don't forget to leave a review! Happy reading!

Mikey

***

Draco was sitting at the desk in their in-home office. There were books, manuscripts, and parchments with neatly written script spread across the desk's surface. Hermione leaned over the back of his chair and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Still working?"

Draco started at the sound of Hermione's voice. She had entered the office so quietly that he had not heard her approaching. Or perhaps, he was just so engrossed in his tasks that he did not notice.

"Yes, actually." He picked up a piece of parchment and looked at it briefly. He sighed. "It's this Hecates' Hex."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "Hmm... I've never heard of it."

Draco heard the disappointment in her voice. Hermione hated to not know something. He held back a laugh. "It's very uncommon. I've never seen a curse like it before, and I've seen my fair share of curses," he muttered darkly. This one is particularly nasty. It must have been a bloody pain in the ass to write. It makes the victim feel as if their blood is boiling underneath their skin, but the effects are only in the mind. Their body is not harmed at all, so it isn't a curse that kills, physically at least. Sad thing is out of the seven reported cases, six of the victims ended up killing themselves just to escape the pain." He shook his head. "But something must counter its effects. There has to be something like this, if not similar to it. I'm tempted to get one of the senior specialists to assist me, but I'm not ready to give up yet. I just haven't looked hard enough." He let out a wide yawn.

"It's okay to let someone help you, you know. Leave it for tomorrow. Come to bed."

"I have to make some sort of progress with this tonight, Hermione."

"But you're tired."

"I'm fine," he said shortly.

Hermione pressed her cheek against his. "Rome wasn't built in a day, love. It's almost two o'clock. Please, let's get some sleep."

Draco tilted his head back and kissed her at the base of her neck. "Go ahead without me. I'll be there in a minute."

Hermione sighed but did not argue further. She left the office, closing the door quietly behind her. She was almost angry that Draco had a job now. Harry had provided him with several employment opportunities, as he had promised. Draco ended up taking a position with the Unpleasant Curse and Poison Center which researched curses and poisons and developed remedies and potions for the Department of Magical Disasters and Catastrophes and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as well as wizard hospitals like St. Mungo's. It was a job Draco was well suited for. He had always had a great aptitude for potions and had very good grades overall, despite his behavior at Hogwarts, something even Hermione would have begrudgingly admitted during their time there. But the work was challenging and meaningful, which was what Draco had been going for. Coupled with the fact that he could mostly work at home, and that the UCPC was not a Ministry based entity made it a perfect job for him. His superiors were already advancing him to more difficult tasks. She was glad that Draco now had a job that he enjoyed, but she couldn't pretend to be happy with the fact that she now had competition for his attention. She rolled her eyes at herself. She was being ridiculous of course. Their relationship had not suffered from his work. Draco was happy to finally feel useful, which in turn made Hermione. Perhaps if she was as excited about her work lately, she wouldn't feel the way she did.

She moved a reluctant Crookshanks from the bed to his wicker basket on the floor and settled under her covers peeved. She knew exactly when things began to go down hill for her career and it had everything to do with her relationship with Draco, although she did not blame him at all. It was the overenthusiastic media that she was angry with. After a month of keeping their relationship to themselves and close friends Draco and Hermione started going out in public together. Hermione had anticipated that it would cause some gossip, but she didn't find her life interesting enough to discover it printed all over the most popular wizards' magazines. The one that started it all was a particularly colorful article in Witch's Weekly. She leaned over Draco's side of the bed and removed a glossy piece of paper from the nightstand. She rolled her eyes and reread it.

The Latest Scandal: Who's Been Trading Teams

After several years of living in solitude Draco Malfoy is back in the scene. He has been seen repeatedly in the last two months following his father's escape and recapture. It has been confirmed that despite his large fortune, Draco Malfoy, 25, has recently acquired a job at the Unpleasant Curse and Poison Control Center where he works as a potions specialist. So it appears that he's back to stay. But although Draco is one of England's most eligible wizards, it seems that we'll all have to wait in line. Yes, our blond heart throb has already found himself a girlfriend in no one other than the Golden Trio's own, Hermione Granger.

Considering their pasts it's hard to believe that these two are well matched. Hermione Granger, 25 is easily the most well known muggle-born witch of her time, and it is no secret that the Malfoys have always been less than receptive to the muggle-born population. However, it seems that the two have overcome their differences. Malfoy and Granger have been seen enjoying each other's company several times in the past month alone.

"I saw them together quite a while ago at St. Mungo's the night the Potter's son was born. My son had magicked his way into the potions cabinet, terrible mess. He's fine now though. But yes, I saw them there. I assume they came to see Potter when she was in labor. At first I wasn't sure I had seen correctly, they were in and out of the lobby so quickly that I couldn't be sure that it was Malfoy with Granger. But then a friend of mine saw them together at a restaurant near her home in muggle London and that pretty much confirmed it for me." Wesleyan Irwin, 37.

"I had just seen Hermione with another man," said Lavender Brown, 25. "So you could imagine I was very surprised to see her cozied up outside Florean Fortescue's with someone new, let alone Draco Malfoy of all people. I'd never known Hermione to trade men so quickly, but she really hit the jackpot this time! If you're reading this Hermione, honey, owl me!"

"Malfoy was three years ahead of me at Hogwarts but I saw the girls he went around with. Granger is not his type. I don't know what it is about her but she has this uncanny ability of attracting men outside her league. Harry Potter, Victor Krum and now Draco? I think someone should investigate her, she's clearly using some form of magical manipulation." Magdalene Winthrop, 22.

Whether Granger is using magic or just irresistible charm, one thing's for certain, she is one lucky witch! From all of us at Witch's Weekly good luck you two!

Hermione pursed her lips. Draco had cut the article out for keeping, to Hermione's great annoyance. The title alone greatly offended her, and it wasn't as if they hadn't portrayed their relationship in too flattering a way, so Hermione could not imagine why Draco would want to revisit it. When she asked him about he said that he liked the photograph. She had received a headache from how hard she rolled her eyes at him. But she could see where he was coming from. She secretly liked it too. She and Draco were sitting close together one evening outside at a seemingly secluded restaurant on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. They were celebrating Draco's twenty-fifth birthday and she remembered vividly why the picture looked as intimate as it did. That was the first time Draco told her he was in love with her. She had suspected that he was for a long time by then. If he felt anything as close to how she felt for him, he had to be in love with her. She had wanted to tell him exactly how much she loved him too for weeks, but was much too nervous to, in case he didn't feel the same. She realized then how silly she had been. Of course, he loved her. It showed with his every glance, every smile, every touch. But she had been elated to hear him say it that day. Hermione remembered telling Draco that same moment that she was in love with him too. There wasn't a hint of doubt or indecision in her voice. The truth of her words had warmed her from the inside out as soon as she had spoken them. Draco's smile mirrored her own. Crazy happy, and desperately in love. This is when the picture must have been taken. Hermione watched herself in the picture, not bothering to hinder the smile forming on her lips. The Hermione and Draco in the photo were holding hands over the table, smiling brilliantly. Photo Draco put his hand on the back of photo Hermione's neck and brought her close for a kiss that was slow and drugging. Hermione swore that she could still taste that kiss. It wasn't long after that kiss that they went home to finish what was started. Hermione remembered that vividly as well. But there was a fire burning in her belly for a different reason. That kiss was supposed to be just for her and now it was immortalized in this photo, for the world to share. She felt her upper lip curl in anger. She thrust the page back into the nightstand.

She could get over the article. It was the effect it had on her work that really had her upset. After a week of enduring good-natured jabs from her fellow Aurors Acer had called her into his office. He had informed her that due to her recent "popularity" it would be best if she didn't work on any big cases at the time. With her name buzzing in everybody's ear it could compromise any missions if she was to take part in their execution. She had tried to argue but Acer wouldn't have any of it. His usual smug and sarcastic demeanor had vanished, leaving in its wake only a cold sternness. Hermione couldn't imagine why he was so upset with her, it wasn't her fault the press was after her, and it wasn't like she was the only one that ever got caught in the limelight. Harry had been in the papers for a good month straight after James was born and for several instances before that, but as far as she could tell no one had ever told him sit the next few assignments out. She scowled at the ceiling but was too tired to dwell on it any longer. She snuggled into her pillow and made herself comfortable under her covers, soon falling asleep.

***

Somewhere a grandfather clock struck midnight. The time went unnoticed by the pale man sitting quietly in his armchair. He leaned back deep into the cushions, his hands making a steeple under his chin. He was positioned directly in front of the fire as he stared, unseeing, into the flickering light of the dying flames.

A woman leaned against the wall behind him, wrapped snugly in a house robe. Her skin was just as pale as his, except for the patches of rose in her cheeks. Her hair, unlike his was dark, black as pitch. Her eyes were the brightest cerulean blue, even in the dim firelight. She watched the man silently for a while before heaving a great sigh and speaking. Her voice was as warm and sweet as honey. "I hate to see you like this. Tell me what has you so troubled."

"I can't do this anymore," the man said quietly. "It sickens me to have a hand in this. I feel wretched. I can't even begin to comprehend how you can stand to look at me," he said in disgust. He turned his face away from her.

"Shhh, don't berate yourself like this," she said coming around the chair to peer into his face. She knelt down in front of him and reached up, placing a hand on his cheek. "I know how much you have sacrificed so that we could be together. How could I fault you for doing anything that would allow you to stay with me? Anything that would keep you alive?"

His troubled expression did not change, but he leaned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. "But at what price? How can you forgive me for taking part in this? For claiming the lives of innocent people? Lives of people like you?"

Her face fell slightly. "But you said you have not killed anyone in months."

"I may not have murdered anyone physically for quite a some time, but I have stood aside and let it happen time and time again." His eyes closed. "They are starting to get suspicious. My efforts as of late have been less than enthusiastic. I cannot avoid them for much longer. They will take action if we are discovered."

"Then why don't we just leave, love? We can run away! They will never know where to find us!"

"How I wish it was that easy."

"If you wish it then make it happen," she said desperately.

He gave her a pained look, but did not speak. He got down on his knees and took her in his arms, holding her tightly. They knelt that way in front of the fire for quite some time. Then there was a quiet knocking at the door.

The man looked up in horror. "Have you told anyone that we're here?" he asked in a tense whisper.

"No, of course not!" she answered, just as horrified. "You know I would never! But who would know where to find us?"

He put a finger to her lips to quiet her. He leaned over her and slowly retrieved his wand from its perch on the side table.

There was another knock at the door, just as quiet and polite as the first.

He gave the woman a chaste kiss on the lips before whispering to her fiercely, "Go to her! Hurry!" The woman's eyes widened and she scrambled to her feet. She took off flying in the opposite direction. She did not look back. The man remained where he was until he was sure he heard the nursery door open and close behind her.

He got up and made his way cautiously to the front door. He was barely two yards away when it opened on its own accord. The man was frozen from what he saw. Three hooded men walked in silently, as calmly as if they were invited. The one in front removed his hood and looked around the room. He smiled and then spoke cordially. "What a humble home you have fashioned for yourself."

The man was frozen in shock. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he could manage to speak. "Why are you here?"

"You know exactly why I am here," the intruder answered, all humor gone from his face.

"Who told you about us? Higgins?"

The intruder raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you were expecting his betrayal?"

"No, not at all. But I never dreamed he could be capable of this. And he claimed to love―"

"Enough. You brought this upon yourself, old friend," he said advancing.

"Well I hope you killed him as well, because he loves her too."

"Higgins has not defied us as you have. But alas, no one is here to kill you. Although that is what he had hoped, of course. But you will not be the one to fall tonight."

"No," the man said, horrified. "Please, reconsider..." he begged, backing up further into the room.

"Don't move," one of the other cloaked figures said sinisterly, pointing his wand at the man's chest.

"You have left us with no choice," the leader said. "The mudblood must die."

His grip tightened on his wand so greatly he was sure it would soon snap. He tried to think of anything that could save his family, and came up with nothing. He sank to his knees, pleading. "Please. Please no. Take me instead."

"There is no other way. You will live alone with this pain. You will suffer for what you have done. For that, I truly apologize," he said quietly. The man looked into the intruder's face and saw that he did look sincerely sorry. But the knowledge would not ease his pain.

"Dolus..." the man whispered. Don't do this."

But it was too late...

He heard a muffled gasp from behind him. He turned around to see a flash of green light so bright that it lit up the entire hallway behind them. There was a soft thud as something heavy hit the wood floor, and then there was silence. The man looked on in silent horror as a fourth hooded figure stepped out of the nursery, leaving the door ajar. He came to Dolus' side and then nodded once.

"I am sorry," Dolus said again. "Keep your life and do with it what you will. Your blood will not be on my hands. Not tonight. But if you show your face again I assure you it will not end in your favor. Farewell, old friend." He spared the frozen man one last look before he swiftly left the house, his followers on his heel.

The man did not turn to watch them leave. He struggled to breathe, one hand reaching out towards his wife. His child. He couldn't bear to think it, but he knew. And every cell in his body confirmed it as he felt the pain starting to rip through him. It was like a wildfire, scorching every individual fiber of his being. He tried to breathe, but he could hardly manage it. Each breath burned and stung him from the inside. It was as if the air had turned into hot sand in his lungs. He doubled over, as his body convulsed, rejecting the horrible pain that swelled inside him. Mind numb, he managed to stand up and made his way hesitantly through the open nursery door, terrified of what he would find when he reached. His chest tightened and he braced himself.

She was laying on her side, back facing him, when he entered the room. For this he was truly grateful. He could not bare to look into his love's blank, unseeing eyes. He wouldn't be able to take it. His mind would explode. He collapsed onto his knees and sucked in a sharp, unsatisfying breath. He stared at the floor, watching as his silent tears made a puddle on the floor. He had not noticed the wetness falling from his eyes. He didn't care. He let his hands fall to his side and his wand fell out of his open palm, rolling to stop in front of the baby's bassinet. He hadn't realized he was still holding onto it. For an immeasurable moment he stared after it. He narrowed his eyes, mind made up. With what strength he had left he crawled after it, his eyes set firmly on his goal. He could not bare to look up and see his child, his baby girl laying dead in her crib. His chest hitched as he reached out and took the wand into his waiting hand. He leaned his head against the wall, paralyzed by his pain. He allowed only one long, agonized moan to escape his lips and then he was silent. After what felt like a century he lifted his arm, pointing the wand into his chest. His arm felt heavy and limp as he held it there, but his grip was sure. He took one last breath to steady himself, before he muttered the words that would put an end to his suffering, and consequently his life. His lips parted, but before he could even make a sound he paused, suddenly alert. The smallest, tiniest sigh had caught his attention.

His first thought was that he had imagined it. He must have. There was no way, he didn't dare to hope that he had. But his eyes were moving up to peer into the crib to confirm it anyway. It was empty. His eyes widened with new shock. Where was the baby? He surveyed the room but found saw nothing. He heard it again. His eyes darted back to where his wife lay. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was something strange about her posture. Her body was haunched over, arms curled protectively around her middle. He stumbled over to her, his body ragged with both despair and hope. He reached out slowly and put his hand on his wife's shoulder. His brain reeled and stomach lurched from touching her lifeless body, but he did not remove his hand. He took a deep breath and then carefully, ever so carefully, he turned her body over to find himself gazing into the open eyes of his baby girl. She blinked twice, as if she was recognizing his face. Then she put one of her tiny fist into her toothless mouth and laughed. The sweetest sound he had ever heard. He laughed too. A hysterical, crazed with relief, laugh. He had been so sure that she was dead. She hadn't made a sound when her mother fell. She had stayed silent, as if she knew her life depended on it. The hooded man hadn't bother to see if the curse had hit her and he hadn't had his faculties about him to make sure. But here she was, alive, smiling at him. He scooped his daughter gently into his arms. He examined her body with fervor, looking for some sort of injury or disfigurement, but she was fine. The only thing he found was a large bruise blossoming under the skin of her right arm where she had hit the floor. But that was easily fixed. He held her in one arm as he waved his wand over her with his other hand. The mark disappeared. There was no remaining evidence of foul play. He placed a thousand kisses all over her face as she cooed, and then brought her to his chest, holding her there snuggly. He marveled at her warmth, the softness of her baby skin, the feeling of her tiny chest rising and falling against his. He hadn't been aware of it, but his heart had stopped the moment he saw that green light. He had died right then. It was a zombie that had entered the room to mourn his loss. A walking corpse. But he could feel his heart beating again in his chest, now that he could feel hers, vital and strong. Perfect.

"Perfect," he mumbled into the baby's skin. "Perfect."

Hermione awoke with a start. She sat straight up in bed, looking around. The fluorescent alarm clock on her bedside table told her that it was a little after four. She hadn't noticed Draco come in. He turned over in his sleep as she watched him, his face turned away from her. She sighed and raised a shaky hand to her cheek to feel the wetness. She rubbed her eyes, drying the tears that had accumulated there. She inhaled deeply to steady herself. This was the third night she had this dream this week alone, and each time she awoke in tears. She did not know the people that constantly starred in her dreams, but her heart broke for them each time she was forced to experience it. Every night the dream struck with more clarity, more pain. It always ended with the same heinous word.

Perfect.

It had been months but she still could not get the thought out of her head. Perfect. Everything is perfect, she told him. She wished she had never spoken the words. But everything was perfect. Besides her reoccurring, heartbreaking, dreams, her life had never been better. She tried to shake the feeling of dread that was washing over her, but it wouldn't budge. She scowled in the darkness as she laid her head back down on the pillow. She reached out to Draco, but stopped an inch away, not wanting to wake him. He had probably just fallen asleep anyway. So instead, she scooted as closely to him as she could without actually touching him. She could feel the warmth that radiated from his body and her muscles relaxed just a bit from the closeness. She blew air out from between her teeth, she would not be able to fall back to sleep. She snuggled deeper into the covers, preparing herself for another sleepless night, when Draco turned over. She itched to touch him but settled for watching his chest rise and fall steadily. She studied the movement of his chest for a long moment before peering up into his face. They were nose to nose, his grey eyes open and alert. She gasped. She hadn't realized he was awake and was a little shocked to find him watching her. He chuckled softly at the surprised look on her face then pulled her into his body, closing the infinitesimal gap between them. He pressed his lips to hers gently and her eyes fluttered to a close. Her whole body relaxed from his touch. "Go back to sleep," he whispered huskily. She did.

***

Hermione's work day had started off like any other. She was at her desk sitting at her desk going over a pretty standard case. A hold up at a small shop just outside Diagon Alley. She pored over the testimonies of the victims and witnesses, and thumbed through the files of the suspects. She had interrogated all but two of the six, and she was already pretty sure she knew exactly which two wizards boosted the register at poor old Mrs. Wilkins' secondhand cauldron shop. She was busy planning a visit to the last two suspects, when an office memo landed lightly on her desk. She pushed her work aside, and unfolded it, laying it flat as she read.

If you're not too busy I could use your help with a situation. Meet me in the Atrium, near the security desk. We'll talk more about it there.

Harry

Hermione looked back at her case skeptically. Mrs. Wilkins could wait. She tucked her wand into the holster on her belt and made her way through the labyrinth of cubicles that was the Aurors' office. She walked briskly down the hall and was lucky enough to catch the lift on its way down. She squeezed in as the grates closed behind her, apologizing to the witch she crushed upon entering. She ignored the sexless voice, as she usually did, that announced the floors as they stopped. She sighed and cursed herself under her breath for choosing to work in the department located on the second highest level of the building. The journey six floors down to the Atrium seemed to take forever. When the lift finally reached level eight she was jostled from the front to the back of the lift as the other occupants pushed past her. She was the last person to step off. She brushed herself off so that she didn't look so rumpled. She was far too used to the hustle and bustle of the Ministry to be annoyed.

Harry was leaning against the security desk waiting for her. He nodded when he caught her eye, and came to meet her. "That was quick," he said, putting a hand on her back to steer her. "Walk with me."

She said nothing as Harry lead her back towards the lifts. "Where are we going?" Hermione asked, getting suspicious by his accelerated pace.

"Shh," he said lowly in her ear. "Meet me on level six, Muggle Liaison Office. Room 1108 B." He held open the lift for her, motioning for her to go in ahead of him. When she turned around he was gone. Hermione fixed her face immediately so that it did not mirror the confusion she felt. Clearly Harry did not want anyone to know what they were getting up to, and she was sure that he had good reason to behave the way he did. She waited patiently for the lift to stop at level six.

Hermione did not spend much time in the Muggle Liaison Office, but she knew where she was going. She did not hesitate before putting her hand on the doorknob and turning it. It was unlocked, as she expected. She looked into the small room, trying to find some significance in it. There was a lone desk with several manila folders and ringed binders stacked up on it, and several filing cabinets lined up against the walls. But other than that, nothing special. She put a hand to her chest, when her eyes roamed over a lone figure leaning casually, arms crossed, in the far corner of the room. He gave her a small smile when he caught her eye. Harry had somehow managed to beat her here although she was sure her lift had went up before he could get on one back in the Atrium. She shrugged and closed the door behind her making sure to perform several privacy charms on the room before she spoke.

"Okay, Harry," she said finally turning around. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry if I alarmed you," he said walking towards the desk. "I just wanted to make sure no prying ears could overheard us. I borrowed this room so we could speak privately." He pulled out the chair in front of the desk. "Please." He waited until she was seated before continuing. "We've had a breach in security. Somebody has been pawing through classified personal files in our department. Your files to be specific."

Hermione's eyes flew up in shock. "What?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I know. I was doing a routine check when I noticed one of the books had been disturbed. Laying open actually, as if they had been cut off before they could find whatever they were looking for." He shook his head. "Very strange. And then there was this." He opened one of the folders in front of her. Hermione peered down at the pages. Everything from her N.E. scores to her parent's home address was listed. She flipped through the pages and found a copy of her birth certificate. Her face froze in horror. Harry placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before continuing. "Whoever was going through your information seemed to be in a hurry. They didn't attempt to put anything back how they found it. It was very amateurish... But still they managed to get in here undetected, so whoever it was is still a serious threat. Even if nothing ever comes of this, what else could they have discovered if they had a mind to?" He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed.

"Anyway, I went straight to Shacklebolt," he said looking at her seriously. Hermione nodded. She was in agreement with this. Kingsley Shacklebolt was the best Minister of Magic they had ever seen. She would have consulted him as well. "He told me to keep this very quiet and suggested I put somebody else in charge of this particular case. Something about a 'conflict of interests'," he waved a hand impatiently at the idea. "But I wouldn't hear of it. I'm personally leading this investigation. And I want you a part of it. We will find out who has been invading your privacy... and why. I won't have any foul play. Not in my office, and not on my best friend."

She nodded. She didn't really know what to say about the situation. One of their peers was up to no good, and for whatever reason that involved her. She tried to remain calm.

"Thank you for telling me. I really appreciate it, Harry."

"Don't be silly, 'Mione. You deserve to know. But you don't have to be worried. I will find out what is going on. Trust me with that."

"I trust you with my life, Harry," she said looking up at him.

He gave her a small smile. "As I trust you with mine." He sighed again, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Hermione tutted sympathetically, putting a hand on his arm. "Long day, Chief?"

Harry groaned at his title, and Hermione smiled. Harry had been appointed Head Auror last year and he was still adjusting. Many of the senior Aurors were upset at this, but they couldn't deny that he was more than qualified. He had immediately considered her as his second, which aggravated even more people but she declined, claiming it would be a conflict of interest to work directly under her best friend. It was a silly thing to refuse, she realized now. Working under Acer was a nightmare. He had her chasing common criminals. Rookie stuff. A muggle police officer could solve the cases he assigned her. Everyday she sat behind her desk longer than she had the day before. Her talents were better put to work elsewhere. When this breach business was over with she might just take him up on his offer.

***

When Hermione got home she still could not believe what kind of day she had. What kind of place were they running where ministry employees could go rummaging through personal files? And who was sneaky enough to get away with it? Hermione could not imagine why the security was getting so slack, but she knew she would have some suggestions for its improvement. Honestly, she, Harry and Ron had slipped into the ministry on more than one occasion unnoticed and unchecked when they were only teenagers. How did they expect to keep out a fully trained wizard or witch? She shook her head as she appeared in her flat, leaving her robes in the closet near the door.

"Draco?" she called out into the dark room. No response. She muttered a quick lumos under her breath, illuminating the room as if she had flipped a light switch. There was a note addressed to her on the side table where she kept the post. She unfolded the paper and read the tidy script.

Sorry I'm not home. I decided to stay and get some research done. I probably won't be home until around 8 so go ahead and have dinner without me. I love you.

~Draco

She sighed heavily, glancing at the time. Acer had really slackened her usual workload as of late, it was only 4:48pm. She groaned. She and Draco had been apart far longer, but the separation was almost unbearable now after such a strange day. She tossed the paper back onto the table and walked into the kitchen thinking about what exactly had occurred today. Besides the obvious breach, the fact that it seemed to somehow revolve around her made her uneasy. Somebody was looking for something on her. But for what? She had nothing to hide. And say they did find something to use against her, what exactly were they trying to accomplish? It didn't make any sense. She could throttle whoever was behind this. Her privacy was something she valued highly and no one seemed to want her to enjoy it lately. Hermione looked around the empty flat and felt immediately uncomfortable. Somebody was watching her. Could they know that she was here now, alone? A shiver rippled down her spine and her longing for Draco intensified. She wished he was here to help her make sense of this, to comfort her at the very least. Nothing felt so terrible when she was with him.

***

Draco sat frustrated in the UCPC library. He knew there had to be a curse book somewhere with something similar to Hecate's Hex. Even Voldemort had based his spells off the work of someone else, whoever created Hectate's Hex couldn't be any different. But he felt like he had been through every book his organization had to offer, and they had quite an extensive selection. He was seriously considering a visit to Hogwarts restricted section, just to see if anything came up when he was interrupted.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy," said a fluttery voice.

He looked up from his work to find a strawberry blonde intern hovering over his workspace. She was just out of Hogwarts but she already seemed to be exceedingly comfortable in her position. She was wearing expensive looking pink robes with a plunging neck line just below decency and a hem that cut off just above the knee. Even her smile suggested that she was up to anything but good. He was sure she dressed this way to get his attention but it did nothing but turn him off. When he was a weaker man he might have taken the bait, but now he couldn't even see any woman that wasn't Hermione. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes and addressed her. "Yes, Kathrine?"

"You have a visitor waiting for you in the lobby," she said flipping her hair.

Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione was the only person that ever came to see him, and the only person he would see anyway. Katherine knew this. But Hermione usually owled first. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

Katherine shook her head looking slightly annoyed. "It's not Hermione." She didn't even try to hide the distaste in her voice.

Draco smiled to himself. "Who is it then, Katherine?"

She shrugged. "A man. He says he's family."

Draco's eyes flew way, way up. "Well, tell whoever it is that I'm on my way up." She nodded, and turned on her heel switching her hips as walked.

A wasted effort, Draco wasn't watching her. He put away his notes slowly, thinking. Draco didn't have any family that wasn't dead or imprisoned, not that he was aware of. And he was sure an escaped criminal would not be asking the receptionist to send someone for him. They would probably just bust in and kill him. He smirked at the thought. He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the lobby still pondering. He stopped dead in his tracks when he got there.

A tall man with dirty blond hair leaned against the receptionist's desk casually. Underneath his black robes he was very sharply dressed in gray tailored garbardine trousers and a crisp white button down shirt. Draco stared the man in his face. His eyes were a lighter gray than his own, but his skin was every bit as pale and fair. They certainly looked related. A friendly smile spread across the man's face.

"Well, hello Draco." His pronunciation was perfect but his slight accent hinted at French. He still had a drawl similar to Draco's.

His eyes narrowed. "Who the hell are you?"

He laughed and then extended his right hand. "Eridanus Bertrald. I'm your cousin."

Draco stared at him, ignoring his hand. "Bullshit."

Eridanus laughed again running a hand through his hair. Draco did that too when he was nervous. His eyes narrowed into slits, but Eridanus continued to smile politely. "I thought you might think so. Perhaps you would like to get some coffee and we could discuss this further." Draco looked at him suspiciously. "At a place of your choosing, of course," he added.

Draco looked at him a second longer before shrugging. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. There's a muggle coffee shop just down the street."

"Sounds perfect."

***

Eridanus had been silent the entire walk and did not speak once they had sat down inside. Draco followed his lead. The only time they spoke was to order, which they did quickly, neither one of them taking the coffee into much consideration. Draco appreciated the silence because it gave him time to collect his thoughts. When they received their steaming cups, Draco took a long pull, not tasting the scalding liquid going down his throat. Eridanus blew at his coffee patiently watching Draco with an amused expression. Draco set down his mug firmly and sighed. Eridanus pushed his mug to the side, and laced his fingers on the table in front of him. "Are you ready to talk?" he asked calmly.

Draco pushed his cup aside too, mirroring Eridanus' stance. "I'm ready to listen."

Eridanus nodded. "I am the son of Phillius and Archaea Bertrald. My father was a French wizard. My mother is a witch from England. She was born Archaea Malfoy. She's your father's older sister."

"Wait, father never spoke of any sister." Draco interrupted. "He had an older brother, but he had no children. He died decades ago."

"Your father would never speak of my mother, if he knew of her at all. She was conceived outside of our grandfather's marriage. I'm sure you're more than familiar with how Malfoys feel about anything out of the norm. It would be disgraceful to acknowledge her to the rest of the family. So he didn't. He did however care for her, to an extent. He made sure she and my grandmother were comfortable monetarily. Your grandmother knew, of course. She wasn't stupid. But it would sully her good name as well, so she never spoke of it." Draco stared at him, mouth slightly open. Eridanus continued. "I was born in France, where I attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. It is not an all girls school like most people think," he added to answer the question Draco hadn't asked. "I'm seven years your senior. When I graduated I came to England. I've been living between Wales and Le Havre, France for years. I have permanent residences in both countries."

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times. He picked up his cup and took another long sip before he managed to speak. "So we're related. I believe that. It sounds exactly like something we Malfoys would hide. Besides, any idiot could look at us see and see the resemblance. I'm... okay with that." Eridanus looked relieved. He appeared as if he was about to speak again but Draco raised a hand to stop him. "Hold on. There's something I don't understand. If you've been around this whole time, why are you now seeking me out?"

Eridanus looked down at his hands. He looked as if he was choosing his next words very carefully. "I wasn't... sure," he said finally. "If I would be accepted or not, if I made myself known."

Draco peered at him over his cup. "Seriously? You were afraid of rejection? My father probably would have been glad to meet you. You would have been a better son to him than I was."

Eridanus shook his head smiling darkly. "I would have been exactly the same son to him that you were." He reached into his robes and procured a wrinkled copy of the Daily Prophet. He unfolded it to an inside story and tossed it on the table. Draco pulled it to him and scanned the page. It was a reprint of the article Witch's Weekly had published about him and Hermione. Draco sneered.

"What the hell does this have to do with anything?"

"Almost everything. My late wife Odette was a muggle-born," he said quietly. "I didn't know if you had inherited the same pureblood prejudice as the rest of our family. So I kept myself at a distance, until I read this."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough... When did your wife... er, pass away?"

"She was killed shortly before the Second War ended... because of this." He rolled his sleeve up slightly. He did not reveal the whole thing but Draco knew exactly what it was.

Draco looked at him astounded. "How did that... happen?"

Eridanus averted his eyes. "You know how He operated," he said almost at a whisper. "I wanted to live, and I couldn't see any other option at the time."

"So they killed your wife and you somehow managed to escape?"

"I didn't escape. Not really. They let me live so I would suffer. But I think they assumed I would take my own life afterward, and they were right. They knew my personality. I would have... finished the job, if it wasn't for her. By some miracle she was alive so I took her and fled. I didn't know if the madness would ever end so I kept my existence and hers secret. With He-Who-Must―" He stopped himself and started over. "With Voldemort skulking around I knew she wouldn't be safe. I took her back to France and we've been there ever since until very recently. When I saw your story in the paper I knew that you would understand."

Draco put his fingertips to his temples, confused. "She? Who are you talking about? You said your wife was killed."

"I apologize. Odette was killed. She is my daughter. Her name is Pyxis."

Minor cliffy. Like I said, bear with me! Thanks for reading and don't forget to leave a review!