Chapter 1: A glass of Bordeaux

Lucius Malfoy was absolutely furious. He took long, urgent strides through his manor's main hallway, eager to reach his preferred spot next to the fireplace. To his left, a funny-looking house elf apparated, tiny hands clasped in a pacifying manner, as if afraid to risk the man's wrath.

"Master is home! Does Master need anything?"

"Out of my way, Pratts!" Malfoy warned, hardly in the mood to entertain his latest house elf. Luckily, the elf in question backed in swift retreat and Lucius was left to his anger. In their great hall and seated on a plush armchair, his wife Narcissa was drinking a glass of wine, an adjacent one placed across from her on an expensive-looking mahogany table. Had she been waiting for him? Either way, Lucius was pleased to see her, shoulders instantly relaxing, pushing away some of the tension built in their current Minister's cabinet. Kingsley Shacklebolt had ruffled Lucius' feathers beyond decency. It appeared as if with each visit to the Ministery for Magic, the Malfoy family name degraded instead of being rehabilitated and today was no exception.

"Lucius," Narcissa greeted, handing him his glass. Repressing a sigh, Lucius took it gently from his wife's delicate fingers, collapsing in a seat of his own. Truly, she was as beautiful and poised as the first day he had met her. Fiercely loyal and intelligent. Even on his worst day, Lucius knew that if he turned to the one person who loved him the most, that particular comfort would, without fail, assuage his dark thoughts.

"Thank you, my love," he said, taking a sip of a delicious Bordeaux.

"I imagine matters are not improving," Narcissa deduced, expression softening in a sad, defeated spirit.

"Unfortunately not. Shacklebolt is unyielding in his suspicion of us. He simply does not wish to accept - and mind you, he's not the only one - that we're done with the Dark Lord's ideologies. It's been almost 5 years since that blasted war and we have done everything in our power to be exonerated," Lucius said, listing matters Narcissa was well-acquainted with already.

"I know," she nodded in understanding.

"I have cooperated fully, I have given them all the Death Eater names and provided the Ministery with their locations. We have maintained our peace. Heavens, Draco even went ahead and became an Auror, fighting their battles and risking his life constantly. What more do they want?!" He asked, sounding quite frustrated. Taking his head in his hands, Lucius realized he was exhausted and a complete failure at this cat-and-mouse game.

On the surface, the Malfoys had been forgiven but if one dug deeper and looked beyond pleasantries, they would discover a web of forced smiles and necessary acceptance. Additionally, the Ministery was now entirely composed of individuals who if either did not fight in the war, at the very least had been against Voldemort since the beginning, which made the Malfoy existence…problematic. Lucius had no more allies. His once illustrious influence had faded spectacularly and while his son was regaining their reputation back bit by bit, it was still not enough.

After the war, Draco had changed drastically. He had returned to Hogwarts to finish his studies and had endured stares, accusations and direct confrontations due to his involvement in the war. Even his professors had been stricter with him and his fellow Slytherins had maintained a certain distance, unsure of whether to congratulate him or hold him responsible for the many ordeals they had all endured. It had been monumentally difficult but his son managed to graduate with honors and joined the ranks of Aurors immediately after his last year at Hogwarts. Due to his stigma as an ex-Death Eater, his son was assigned the most dangerous of missions which he accepted without question and while he had emerged victorious from all of them, to Lucius and Narcissa it looked as though Draco was punishing himself. As if he was chastising himself for ever being weak and controlled by the ones around him. His newfound and arguably reckless bravery combined with the level of risk present in his Auror missions had molded him into one of the best duelists. An even better Auror than Potter himself. How ironic, that now, when his son was worthy of such high praise he could not enjoy it, not when his father had done what he had done. Draco was continuously being denied his turn in the spotlight despite doing more than his fellow Aurors ever would.

"We can't lose hope, my love. There has to be something we can do. We can't allow them to keep sending Draco on those suicide missions. We both know they do this on purpose," Narcissa pressed, leaning over and placing a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder. Lately, Lucius' blonde hair had started to grey and thin out. He, too, was on the path to desperation.

"The nerve of that Shacklebolt! This is the third time he's received you for an audience and never once did her propose a solution."

At that, Lucius chuckled, a dark laugh echoing from somewhere deep inside his being. He raised his eyes to meet Narcissa's confused stare.

"Oh, but he did. He did suggest something. Something so foul, so scandalous I can barely bring myself to utter it."

"What did he say?" Narcissa asked, all in a whisper, almost afraid to know the answer.

"Our dear Minister suggested that if we truly wish to convince everyone that we have indeed changed, we should prove it through an irrefutable act. He suggested that Draco marry a muggle. Can you imagine? My own son, attaching himself to a Mudblood, a useless non-magical person. As if I would ever allow for our bloodline to be tarnished, for our purity and pride to be dragged through the mud by a mere female human," Lucius raised his tone, eyes burning in poisonous madness.

In turn, Narcissa grimaced - but only for a second. Her impulse had been to agree with her husband. The very idea of it was preposterous! Yet…her mind…her mind told her logic and conjured reason. It was not a bad proposal. If anything, it was one of the few useful things their Minister ever deigned to throw their way. Without a doubt, this would be a ludicrous challenge but if they did manage such a feat, Draco would have a chance at redemption. Certainly, no one would expect them to go through with it. It would be unimaginable for the Malfoys to welcome a muggle with no magical powers into their family but if they did, they would naturally force everyone to reconsider their preconceptions. Judgment would be replaced by second thoughts and in time, perhaps, by forgiveness and full acceptance.

"Lucius…" Narcissa threaded carefully, trying to find the best way to convince her husband. "...while that proposal goes against everything our family stands for, it might actually help us regain our credibility."

"Narcissa!" Lucius gasped, looking at her as if he was seeing his wife for the first time. He couldn't believe she was actually considering it.

"Please think about it," she offered, leaving the comfort of her armchair and kneeling gracefully next to him, hands on his knees, grasping them gently. "If we marry Draco to a muggle, there's no denying that we are sincere in our intentions. It would be the greatest apology to the Wizarding World and we would earn back our relevance. No one would dare accuse us of any blood purity faults anymore."

"But Cissy, welcoming a pathetic Moldu into our ranks…"

"It doesn't have to be forever," Narcissa said, her mind already putting together the puzzle pieces to a plan. "We can marry Draco to a muggle girl for a year - plenty of time for us to convince everyone to pacify their injustice. She will make a vow to keep our world a secret from the rest of the muggle world and then, after the discussed period expires, they will divorce. It's just a year. She will simply make an appearance at events from time to time but other than that, she won't even have to live with us in the Manor."

"I suppose that sounds…reasonable," Lucius said, considering all their options. Perhaps it was not such a bad idea after all.

"Yes, it does. Why spend a lifetime accounting for our involvement with the Dark Lord when one year might be the answer to our problems? It would be a simple but useful formality."

"Draco will not like this," Lucius reminded her.

"I am aware. Leave that part to me," Narcissa reassured her husband.

It was true that his son had a soft spot for his mother but she would have to make an extra effort nevertheless. Over the past years, Draco had become a cynic. Cold. Calculating. At times, even terrifying. There was no telling what his son thought anymore. It was as if staring into the eyes of a stranger. The boy had turned into a man and had gradually become independent. He asked for nothing and made his own way through the world. Without a doubt, his son was another kind of monster.

"The more pressing issue is, where are we going to find a muggle girl willing to accept this arrangement? We can't use magic to convince her, it would defeat the purpose of our plan," Narcissa said, rising to her feet and pacing around the room, wrecking her brain for options. Fortunately, Lucius provided the key.

"You don't need to worry about that. I am actually acquainted with a muggle that owes me a considerable favour," Lucius said, a thin smile crossing his lips. All of a sudden, his turmoil started to disperse. And all it took, was one muggle girl.

OOO

Layla Sinclair's view of the world had always been twisted. The strong survived and the weak perished as ghosts in the aftermath of feared compromise and corrupted opportunity. Life had taken so much from her ever since she had been a child, losing her parents and her family home in the blink of an eye. On top of it all, the journey to loving herself had been long; it had taken years for her to grow and bloom in the image that comforted her now in the mirror. It shouldn't have taken that much. Apparently, she was beautiful. Layla could see it in the longing stares and instinctive smiles. In every "yes" she got for free. In the way people melted in her presence and undermined morals just to nestle themselves in her good graces. Most specifically, in how women acted towards her, masking their insecurities under the guise of mean conduct. Every inch of her was golden lust and forbidden fruit and she had not yet met a man who did not yield at her feet.

Growing up, Layla learned to use everything to her advantage. Be it intelligence or looks, she made astute choices. She knew early on that she was her only friend; everyone was on their own, burning the midnight oil into their personal sorrow. Every person was a project and every soul searched for impossible ways out. If you pinpointed what made people tick, you could easily move them on the chessboard. And that was precisely the skill that propelled her into her current line of work.

Layla Sinclair was, by far, a successful assets broker. She worked for the top brokerage in London, having built an impressive portfolio of clients over time. She knew the richest men in the world and acquired for them the best of deals. She played the game well; she knew when to smile, when to flirt, when to influence daunting, intimidating people into giving her what she wanted. Constantly, she worked hard and she was rewarded as such. Her boss respected her and her colleagues admired her. Even her competition couldn't help but keep a watchful eye on her. At 24 years old, Layla was financially comfortable, experienced and hungry for more. At 24 years old, she had the world in the palm of her hand.

The weekend had rolled in quicker than expected. She woke up refreshed, having slept for more than 5 hours the previous night, ending her working day earlier and going out with colleagues to a nearby club for drinks. London clubs were not as fun as the New York ones and in moments such as those, she missed the States terribly. But, after 6 years of living in London, she could finally call the old capital her home.

With precise movements, she got out of her queen-sized bed and began her morning routine. After skincare was done, she slipped into a silken grey dress and headed to her open-plan kitchen for coffee. She looked around her home, satisfied with what she was seeing. Layla had actually purchased her current penthouse at the beginning of the year after a series of successful deals she closed with her assigned clients. She deserved a reward and she always made sure to acquire only the best. Since the expensive home had been in her possession for no longer than 6 months, everything still looked brand new and the space hardly appeared to be lived into. However, a scented candle there, a collection of brand shoes in a glass display and one perfume tray by the bedroom door were definitive signs that proved a sophisticated young woman lived there.

All of a sudden, her intercom rang, announcing someone was downstairs. A visitor. She went and checked the small camera at the entrance and pressed the button that allowed access upon realizing her uncle was at the door. She frowned, realizing something was wrong. He never came unannounced.

Before she unlocked her front door, Layla checked herself in the mirror. Her luscious black hair cascaded in a straight flow over her shoulders, thinning out slightly upon reaching her small waist. Tan skin complimented the intense raven tones in her hair, a pair of uniquely amber eyes glistening from under thick, long lashes. She was tall and slender, with legs that spanned into forever and lips that conjured the most sensual of pouts. Many repeatedly told her she must have been an Egyptian deity in a past life and even her uncle often called her "my Cleopatra" affectionately.

Upon hearing her uncle's knock, she opened the door, revealing a middle-aged man behind it. Uncle Aaron was short and stubby but with an air of bonheur about him that always put people in a good mood. Layla welcomed him in and gave him a warm hug to which he reciprocated and handed her a small bouquet of white tulips.

"Thank you, Uncle," Layla said, taking the flowers and eyeing him suspiciously. Whenever he brought flowers, he always wanted something.

They both stepped inside the flat, Aaron taking a seat on the chair nearest to him while Layla busied herself with placing the flowers in a vase.

"Have you been well?" Aaron asked from the other room.

"Better than ever," she said coming back into view and arranging the vase on one of her floor cabinets. "You?"

"Same, same," he chanted, looking around worried, grasping at his fingers in anxiety. He was clearly not well.

"Something on your mind, Uncle?" Layla asked. It was better to just get it over with, especially when it involved her uncle. He was a sweet, generous man yet, oftentimes, that meant he made bad decisions and got himself into trouble. However, he was family and he had been the only one to take her in after her parents died. He was the closest thing Layla had to a father and she swore she would always take care of him. Because that's what families do. Moreover, he was her only remaining relative. The day he would die would also be the day Layla would be truly alone in this world.

"Perhaps another gambling debt?" She tried, all too familiar with Uncle Aaron's gambling tendencies and his bad luck in losing everything Layla gave him. After all, she had cleared his debts repeatedly. Layla knew very well that by continuing to save him, she was enabling his problem yet she found it really difficult to say no to him. She imagined part of her irresistible charm was inherited from his side of the family.

"No, that's not it, Layla," Aaron was quick to clarify, brown eyes locking with her own. "We have a bit of a…situation."

"A…situation?"

"Yes," Aaron said, forcing himself to speak. The conversation was reaching uncomfortable levels for him. She had to admit, Layla had never seen him that restless before. Whatever it was, it was eating away at his heart.

"My dear niece, do you remember when you were little how I had that heart condition and I needed a transplant?"

"Of course," Layla said. It had been a horrible time in their lives. If Aaron hadn't gotten better, he would have eventually died and Layla would have ended up in the foster care system. "But you went to another specialist and he gave you a treatment that made you better," she recalled, realizing now with her adult mind that matters then had resolved themselves a bit too miraculously.

"That's right, Mr. Malfoy," Aaron supplied. "Well, as you can imagine, I am forever in his debt."

"Sure. But you paid him for that service, didn't you?"

"Yes and no. You see, we didn't have any money then so I pleaded with him and he agreed to help me in exchange for an equally important favor he might request in the future."

"You made a deal without knowing the conditions?" Layla confronted him, her broker agent senses warning her against ever accepting such an exchange.

"You have to understand, I was desperate. If I didn't do anything, I'd risk dying or worse, losing you. I had to do everything in my power to protect you."

"That's no excuse. You shouldn't have done something so reckless."

"I know, child, but he was my only chance at the time. And now, he is asking for his favor."

Layla sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What does he want? Money?" She inquired, already up to her feet, on her way to get her checkbook. Aaron stopped her, his hands latching onto hers.

"No, not at all. The Malfoy family is very well-off, actually."

"Good for them but you still haven't answered my question," She raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for him to speak again.

"He has a son. And he knows I have a nice. He is requesting you marry his son."

"Excuse me?" Came the frustrated question. Laya didn't know whether her uncle was serious or decided to play tricks on her. "In what universe is this a sane request?"

"Listen, I know this is very…out there but you have to consider it. These are very powerful people, Layla."

"I work with powerful people for a living, Uncle, and if there's one thing I've learned, more often than not, their bark is usually more viable than their bite. You shouldn't allow yourself to be intimidated into this request."

"I don't have a choice, child! What's done is done and he did save my life. I owe him this favor and while it's unfair of me to ask this of you, please, help me. I beg you. I am the only thing you have left."

She was beyond speechless. And he was beyond shameless. But his desperate begging warned her of the urgency of the matter.

"You know, you can't keep using this excuse to get things out of me. There's a statute of limitations on the fact that you took me in and raised me."

"Layla…I swear, this is the last time I'm coming to you for help. And I promise you, it's not as critical as you think. They're only requesting you marry him for a year."

"A year?" She asked, suspicion dripping from her tone.

"Yes, that's it. After a year passes, you will divorce and each of you will go on your separate ways. Also, you can continue living in your own home and you will only have to see these people two or three times maximum after you sign the marriage license. This marriage is just for show. Your life will continue normally. The only thing you will be expected to do is to change your name legally for a year."

"I suppose it's not that bad," Layla mused, considering the possibility. "And I can date whomever I want and do whatever I want in the meantime?"

"Absolutely, everything stays the same. And a year passes in the blink of an eye."

She thought about it. A year was not a long time and it wouldn't pose that much of a problem for her especially since she didn't have to deal with the family nor abide by any rules. She would have a lot of explaining to do at work and to her friends but she would find a plausible reason eventually. Perhaps even tell the truth, she was just helping out her uncle and, by affiliation, a stranger also. It would do her well to be in the good graces of this influential Malfoy family. Her work also worked on favors. Additionally, her uncle would have no other financial expectations on her part so that would be another issue fixed.

"There is still something I am confused about," Layla addressed the elephant in the room. " Why does his son need to marry for a year? What is he gaining from this arrangement?"

Ah, there it was. The sudden drop in his face. Here came the strings he would attach to her and on this "harmless marriage".

"Years ago, Mr. Malfoy did not give me a treatment for my heart. More like, he healed me."

"So…he's some sort of witch doctor?"

"He's actually a wizard."

At the sound of that, Layla burst into a fit of laughter. Her uncle though, kept a straight face through her fit of cackles. Right till she noticed and straightened her back, adopting the same serious attitude, her giggles dying out.

"You're not joking."

"No," he said, almost pitying her.

"Uncle, you can't expect me to believe magic is real. I live in a world of numbers and investments, it doesn't get more real than that," Layla explained.

For a moment, Aaron looked impossibly old. And tired. He took a long, deep breath before he began.

"I'm going to tell you everything, Layla. But right now, I need to know I can count on your decision. Will you do me this one last favor?"

It was a selfish thing to ask of her but he somehow made it as if she would be the cruel one were she to refuse his request. She had never seen him like this. Lost, conflicted, and almost afraid. He kept looking around the room, waiting for something horrible to materialize, and in the end, it was his restless paranoia that convinced Layla she had to do it.

"Alright. One last favor, Uncle."

OOO

Author's note: Hello and thank you for reading. This fanfiction started as a dare, when someone challenged me to make Draco fall in love with a muggle, of all creatures. The story will have an M rating later on since it will include violence, angst and of course, physical goodies. I love the enemies-to-lovers trope and I plan on taking these two characters on a fun rollercoaster. Expect a battle of wits as the story progresses.

If you would like to find out more, please subscribe to this fanfiction. Hugs!3