Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own none of the rights to any of the characters save the ones I have created or to the Harry Potter empire. If I did, my name would be different and you would have paid to read this.

A/N: I am having lots of fun working on this story, as it is my first Harry Potter fanfic. I am always open to ideas or any comments or questions you want to offer up. I promise I will comment or answer you back, whether it be by e-mail or at the end of the next chapter. Please, READ and RESPOND! Enjoy!

"Daddy! Daddy! Look what I found!" The little boy shouted, stumbling up the few porch steps to where his father sat working.

"What do you have there, Dom?" Draco reached out and placed him on his lap. Dominic opened his tiny hands to reveal a small green caterpillar on a half eaten leaf. "Oh, brilliant!"

Dominic beamed up at Draco.

"Can I keep him, Daddy? I could feed him leaves and take care of him." He gave Draco his best pout.

"Sorry, love. One day this little caterpillar is going to grow up to be a big, beautiful butterfly. Now go find a safe place to put him down." The little boy frowned up at him thoughtfully.

"Okay, but keep Briseis away." Dominic slid off his father's lap and tottered off toward the little patch of trees by his swing set.

"I promise. Not too fast now." Draco smiled after him and picked up the curious kitten as she prepared to follow and placed her gently back inside the house.

For all of the years in his childhood he spent abhorring Muggle things and Muggles in general, this life suited him. It had not been easy, a rich, smug, talented wizard like himself adjusting to a normal Muggle lifestyle – but he had done it; first for Hermione and then for Dominic.

Looking at him now, playing in the grass, happy and worry free, Draco thought about how much of Hermione he could see in Dominic. Everyone always commented about how remarkable the resemblance between he and Draco was. Physically, Dominic could have been his clone: silvery blond hair, striking, sharp features and piercing green eyes—but in every other way, he was Hermione. His curiosity, his thirst for learning and his general good nature Dominic all got from her: all the good things. Every time Dominic smiled, it was like she was alive again, like she was sitting right next to him.

Hogwarts, 7th year

Draco reached the astronomy tower, breathless, his head swimming. The seesaw of conflicting thoughts in his head tottered back and forth so fast he felt dizzy. He stumbled out onto the balcony and slid down into the corner. He had run away from her. She was pushing him; pushing in a direction it scared him to go because there would be no turning back. He was being groomed to be a Death Eater. He had spent his whole life being groomed. In fact, it was all he ever had, ever known. He had never been good with choices. He had a father that made them for him. Now he had options and choices and his own original thoughts.

Draco had spent the summer deep in the depths of what can only be described as his own private prison. With the war silently raging in the wizarding world, Voldemort had yet to unleash the full extent of his forces. He was waiting; he was waiting for the next generation to be ready. Though he had hundreds of loyal followers all over the world, most of them no longer possessed the stamina and quick reflexes need to battle The Order and their cohorts. Voldemort needed an army of young wizards and witches to back the knowledge and experience of the original Death-Eaters. As his father was fairly high up Voldemort's hierarchical chain, Draco was expected to represent him as such and be the same kind of forceful leader for his generation that his father had been for his. After seventeen years of living with Lucius, Draco spent most of his time wandering along a path of indifference. It was not as if he was doing his father's bidding because he believed in his cause; like many other talents in his life, he was simply good at it. In his earlier years, it had been to impress his father, to gain his approval. Draco had now come to realize his father would never give it. Even when what he did what his father wanted, Lucius' insatiable need for power and perfection bulldozed over any pride he harbored for his son. Despite Draco's growing contempt for his father, he knew nothing else. Draco knew he was naturally mean-spirited and had very little tolerance for the frivolities others his age indulged in. The only things that had made him feel anything close to satisfaction or happiness were school and Quidditch. And the only person he could never seem to beat at anything was Hermione. His grades were excellent, but they still felt short in comparison to hers.

Hermione wanted to understand where he came from, wanted to know what his life was like. Those were things he could explain. When she started probing him about his father and the Death Eaters, he felt trapped on the wrong side of a line he could not see. The shards of loyalty he still held for his father kept him from telling her anything important or useful. Yet, he had realized that night he could not give her a reason. He could not tell her what he stood for or why he stood for it. The more he thought about it now, the less obvious the reasons they were supposed to be on opposite sides became.

Present

In the two years since Hermione's death, Draco had thrown himself into his work. Though the war raged on around them, Voldemort's army waned in the face of constant raids and foiled plans. Still, Draco remained a target, even if a minor one, to the Death-Eaters' well being. He still moved around from time to time, but with Dominic's fifth birthday fast approaching, Draco needed to figure out how he was going put him into school. That meant staying in once place and his confidence in the state of the war was not solid enough for him to feel comfortable laying down roots. He already put them at risk just using the small amount of magic he did within the house and while he was out working.

Draco added a short note about school to Harry on the back of the picture Dominic had drawn for his uncles. Despite their differences, Harry had been very helpful to Draco over the years, especially when it came to Dominic. Hermione insisted on Harry being Dominic's godfather when he was born; and in true sickening Potter fashion, Harry always came through for him. Draco let Dominic draw pictures for Harry, Ron and Ginny to be sent in with his monthly reports to The Order of the Phoenix. Mostly, these reports contained the names of possible members of Voldemort's entourage that were connected to the Death Eaters captured and interrogated by the American branch, The Order of the Eagle. Occasionally, he had documents confiscated from raids and other pertinent information to send along as well, but the wealth of information pouring out of America had slowed to little more than droplets here and there.

As Draco added some final notes on his report, Dominic came back up the stairs rubbing his eyes and yawning. Seeing the gold and pink hue the sky had taken on, Draco realized that time had gotten away from him again.

"Bed time, eh, love?" Dominic looked up at him sleepily and reached up his arms, which Draco responded to by lifting him up and carrying him back into the house.

With a stubbornness all too familiar, the little boy insisted on putting on his pajamas all by himself. Draco let him struggle with it for a few minutes before he laughed and helped him finish. Kissing the picture of Hermione on his bedside table, Dominic climbed haphazardly up into his bed.

"When I grow up, will I be a butterfly, too?" He asked as Draco tucked him in and shut the blinds. Draco let half a smile come to his lips to keep himself from laughing.

"Oh, no. You'll grow up to be something better, something great like Mommy or Uncle Harry."

Dominic cocked his head at him and thought a minute. "Or like you, Daddy?"

Draco only kissed his forehead and turned off the light. "Go to sleep, Dom."

Hogwarts, 7th year

Draco admired the image staring back at him from the mirror in the private Heads' bathroom. The emerald hue of his graduation robes made his grey eyes more prominent and his features sharper. A stern knocking at the door sliced through his narcissism like an annoyingly punctual knife.

"Bloody hell! I haven't been in here that long, Granger. I'm nearly done."

"Come off it, Malfoy."

He opened the door and smirked at her, already dressed in her scarlet robes, hair fixed up in soft curls and her make-up highlighting the softness of her deep brown eyes.

"Stop staring at yourself. You're not that pretty." She smirked back at him, hands on her hips.

"No, but you certainly are." He pulled her inside and pushed her back up against the door with a smoldering kiss. He lived for moments like this. Moments when he did not have to worry about getting caught or what would happen if they were. He often marveled at how thin the line between love and hate really was.

Keeping their secret had proven a challenge, but not a difficult one. They hated each other for so long, keeping it up for appearance sake took little extra effort. Only at night, in the safety of the private Heads' common room that they could let all of that go. When they talked, they mostly talked about the war. The more he listened to Hermione talk, the more he wondered what his life could be like without Voldemort, without his father.

Draco and Hermione composed themselves quickly and left for the Great Hall, making sure to walk a safe distance from one another. Only a short walk down the stone halls lay ahead of them before the clusters of students waiting to enter for the ceremony would appear. As he slipped seamlessly into a group of Slytherins, he smiled to himself as he imagined the look on Hermione's face when he told her his decision. Tonight was the night he would tell her he no longer wanted to be a Death Eater.

Present

Putting some milk and soft food out to distract the kitten, he slipped back out into the dusk to clean up the porch. He added a salutation and signature to his report and placed it and Dominic's picture inside the envelope he addressed to go out. He made a neat pile of books and papers and, placing the envelope on top, carried it back into the kitchen. Despite his best efforts to keep her occupied, Briseis escaped into the back yard when he opened the door. With a sigh and a soft curse, Draco ventured back out empty-handed to find her before the dark set in. She only made it a few steps and made no effort to fight Draco when he scooped her up. As he was about to scold her, he froze.

The trees rustled a few meters away from where he stood. He saw the shadows shift and moved cautiously forward, Briseis in one hand, the other reaching for his wand. He stopped as a figure, robed in black, stepped out in front of him.