AN- Just a quick note before we get started, any of you who have followed my account in the past and were waiting on other fics know that my account kinda died off in 2020, bar the few unposted chapters I decided to upload since then. I unfortunately went through a pretty intense bout of memory loss and now have no idea where any of the unfinished stories on my account were going. When I eventually read through them I may pick up one or two if some inspiration sparks but unfortunately most will have to remain unfinished. Hopefully this doesn't disappoint anyone. This will be the only author's note you'll have to read. Please enjoy the story.

Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy had always been the suspicious type, after all it came with the territory. Both in Slytherin and within the Magical Aristocracy, he had grown accustomed to the double meanings, veiled threats and alternate agendas. What he hadn't expected, was for a muggleborn to remind him of the many dinner parties he'd witnessed as a child. Meeting her on the train their first year was easily dismissable, it was only one interaction after all, but since that first day it had nagged at him in the back of his mind. He mostly withheld his suspicions, taunting her as an almost test but he never gained conclusive answers. Those tests became a habit as the years went on, and he took a fist to his nose for it. While it was true he held varying amounts of disdain for her friends, she had simply become an enigma that he was certain he'd work out eventually.

It was during their Fifth year that he started piecing together clues. With DADA classes pure theory, he could see her suffering from the disuse of her magic, even only in those two hours. He saw it in the way her hands trembled as she ate in the mornings, he could see it in the shake in her quill during their two hours of defence, though most would have simply assumed anaemia. It was very rare that he saw anyone suffering like that, though he had experienced it over the summer. He knew her nerves must have felt like they were burning and that she must have felt like she couldn't breathe. It was a very rare form of withdrawal and it was impossible for her to be going through it.

Ancient magic was a little understood thing, but one thing that was universally known about it was that specific magics were passed through blood and could not be taught or borrowed. Parseltongue was a type of so named family magic, as was the ability of a Metamorphagus. Family magic was one of the reasons purebloods had lauded themselves as superior for so long, because they had access to magic muggleborns could only dream about. This magic could only be passed through blood if a parent had undergone certain rituals to integrate it into their own magical core, otherwise it would eventually burn out of their blood and become unreachable for them and any of their future children.

So how was Hermione Granger experiencing the last stages of family magic slipping away from her?

Research had to be done and very little of it was conclusive. It was surprisingly difficult for him to try to track her family tree after he hit the stonewall that was the muggle social services. His paper trail ran cold within days and he was left with more questions than answers. How the hell was Hermione content with being called a muggleborn or a mudblood if she was adopted? Did she even know? Surely if he'd been able to find out as much, she could as well. The next step in figuring her out would have to be more traditional forms of lineage tracing. It wasn't foolproof as he wouldn't find any names from it, but if he could use some of her blood to find out what family magic she carried, then maybe he would be able to work from there, and judging from how pale and tired she was becoming, he didn't have too long to do it.

His magic had burned out quicker as it was drawn out of him and into his parents, though through no effort on their part. It was simply the nature of the magic to return to where it came. Hermione however was suffering very slowly, which meant that there was nothing attracting the magic from her. Depending on when over the summer it had started, she could have a few weeks to make her decision on the topic, but if not then he would have to force her into a potentially dangerous ritual before her magic was forever stunted. He didn't bother wondering why he was so invested, that could be done after he'd helped her.

Approaching her had proven to be difficult, given her determination to play the knight in shining armour for Potter, but after a few days he noticed that she had a few hours alone in the back of the library, usually after having snuck into the restricted section. With how desperate she looked when she opened one of the tomes, he knew she wasn't writing homework. It had taken him a few minutes to work up the courage to confront her, afterall he was used to subterfuge in his endeavours.

With a deep breath and his, admittedly small, stack of evidence in hand, he marched over to her table and loomed over her, his back straight. 'I know what's wrong with you Granger.'

'Let me guess,' she drawled tiredly, 'my filthy blood.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'I meant your being pale and exhausted.'

'So does Madam Pomfrey.' Hermione smiled sarcastically. 'I need more glucose in my diet.'

Draco snorted. 'Madam Pomfrey is treating you like a muggleborn.'

'And how else should she be treating me?' Hermione jumped to her feet, scowling up at him.

Draco smirked. 'Like a pureblood.'

Hermione rolled her eyes and her shoulders sagged. 'I'm not a pureblood, we both know that.'

'No.' Draco corrected, pointing an accusing finger at her. 'You think that.'

'And what exactly do you think Malfoy?' She asked, already bored of the conversation.

'I think you're going through the same withdrawal I did.' Draco stated seriously, his expression unflinching as she laughed at him.

'You might have had a drug problem, but I certainly do not.' Hermione dropped back into her chair, trying to turn her attention back to her book.

'I'm not talking about potions, Granger.' Draco snapped, placing his stack of paper down in front of her. 'I'm talking about magic.'

'Tell me something I don't know.' Hermione snapped, dropping her last ounce of resolve. 'Harry thinks I'm overworking myself on my studies, Ron is convinced that I'm sneaking out to see a secret boyfriend every night, Pomfrey dismissed me as a child that doesn't know how to look after myself and McGonagall keeps telling me to listen to the people around me and it'll go away eventually.' There was a desperate burning behind her eyes as she glared at Draco. 'So do tell me what you think, I'm oh so sure your answer will be the one I need.'

'It is.' Draco spoke softly, sitting across from her. 'I have research, evidence and personal experience. I know exactly what is happening to you.'

Hermione simply raised an eyebrow at him.

'Most pureblood children experience this at some point in their lives, though it is usually resolved quickly and discreetly. Some half-bloods also feel it. But never muggleborns.' Draco began, handing her his notes on family magic. 'Some families carry magical traits through their bloodlines, but this magic isn't stable and eventually it runs out. It's borrowed magic, given to us by our parents.' He paused long enough for her to glance through the page. 'It feels like your body is on fire, like no breath you take is actually keeping you alive and it feels like your magic is being drained away.'

'It's impossible.' Hermione shook her head, though Draco saw the recognition in her eyes as he described the symptoms.

'It actually isn't.' Draco handed over the papers he'd managed to acquire. 'You're not actually a muggleborn, I have no idea what you are.'

Hermione's hands shook as she held the adoption papers, her stomach rolling. 'How the hell did you get these?' She asked, dropping the papers to the table.

'I hired a lawyer.' Draco shrugged, narrowing his eyes at her. 'But you already knew they existed.'

Hermione nodded. 'And when I asked my parents about it they told me that they remembered how happy they were when my mother found out she was pregnant, and how small and peaceful I was after I was born, and how my mother had to stay in the hospital for an extra day because she needed stitches.' There was a sadness to her voice as she spoke. 'I know there are ways to remove memories, but to build months, it has to be impossible. They have photographs and doctors notes, surely someone didn't create all of that just to hide me.'

'Whether you're adopted or not, it's family magic that's doing this to you.' Draco shook his head, taking back the papers. 'There's a spell and a potion we can use to try to reveal your family magic, but you don't have all that much time to go digging. Eventually the magic will burn up completely and you won't be able to claim it.'

'What if I don't want to?' Hermione asked stubbornly, her expression hard.

'This isn't just about gaining more magic.' Draco stared at her pointedly. 'That magic has been sustaining and backfilling your magic as your core develops, without it you will be far less powerful than you are now, you wouldn't stay the brightest witch of her age for long without it.'

'What does my magic have to do with my mind?' Hermione snapped.

Draco sighed. 'If you suddenly lose some of your magic, it will be very apparent to anyone who looks at you. Your spells will be less powerful, the breadth of magic you can perform will narrow, it would be like you suddenly stopped being as good at magic. I would know why, and so would you, but nobody else would know the real reason.'

'I don't care that much about what people think of me.' Hermione frowned.

'But you do care about your grades.' Draco pointed out, an eyebrow raised. 'Outstandings aren't handed out to everyone, they are reserved for those who are outstanding in their magical capability, and without that magic you'll be stuck getting E's for the next three years.'

Hermione fuffed, glancing down at the table. 'Where do we start?'