-----------Harry Potter and all related characters, places and creatures are owned and are registered trademarks of JKR, Scholastic Press and a whole lot of other people who are not me. I'm just doing this for the love of fanfiction...and slash ;) ------------

Draco Malfoy, age eight, was lying in a small clearing somewhere in his backyard, just far enough away from his house to not see it peeking out over the tops of the trees surrounding him. However, he wasn't far enough away to be afraid of wandering into the unexplored parts of his yard either, so he could make it back home if Dad called him or something.

He didn't know how big his backyard was, or his front yard for that matter; he had not gotten around to asking his parents about it yet. He just knew that they stretched on for what seemed like eternity, the small enchanted stream starting in the courtyard and ending in a lake somewhere deep in the forest. He didn't know where the lake was or how to get to it, but his Dad said that one day, when he was old enough he'd take Draco there. Someday he would know; his Dad always assured him. One day he would know all of these grounds by memory. It was his life's goal to be able to wander through the miniature forests surrounding the Manor and not have to throw sparks up into the air with his training wand when he got lost (Mom refused to get him a real wand until he turned 10).

He watched the sky reddening above his head for some time before really realizing that the sun was setting. It was so easy to fall into a dreamy trance-like state here in the quiet, with only the birds chirping and wind rushing through the tall grass and even taller trees. In the afternoon the peacocks would always be walking about, their bright tails displayed for all the world to see. By now, however, the peacocks would be sleeping and would be replaced by owls and deer.

He knew also, that deeper into his yard there were wolves and bears. Dad also said that there were Manticores and unicorns in there too, but Draco wasn't sure he believed that. If there were any Manticores, they would have eaten all of the unicorns anyway, right?

But the wolves and bears did come out at night. Draco had seen them. Mom always told him to be back inside by nightfall or at least in the fenced courtyard by then; there were dangerous things in Draco's backyard. Things that could eat him and leave nothing behind as evidence, things that could drive him crazy with just a wail of its voice…things Draco didn't want to think about. He should be getting home, now that he thought about it. Hopefully, he could get back to the kitchens for an after-dinner treat from one of the house elves.

Draco smirked wickedly and sat up, dusting away the dirt and bits of grass from his brand new set of robes. He carefully followed the dirt paths that would lead him back to the Manor and not to some strange, unknown part of the forest. After maybe five minutes, his house's towering spires came into view, and then soon enough the thicket cleared and he was faced with (what Draco assumed to be) kilometers of neat, cleanly mowed grass.

His Dad was standing by the back entrance, smiling as he watched the sun set beyond the tumbling hills of the Malfoy estate. He saw Draco emerge from the copse and Draco felt his cheeks flush as his Dad eyed him suspiciously. But he had not done anything wrong, he assured himself. Draco had made it back to the courtyard and the sun hadn't even set yet. AND he'd made it back all by himself, without having to send sparks into the air or anything. Surely he wouldn't be in any trouble?

Still his pace quickened and his gaze dropped minutely as he approached his Dad. He had crossed his arms by then, his eyebrow rising ever so slightly and his foot tapping steadily. Draco's insides began to feel heavy. Had he done something wrong?

"You forgot your Grandmother Druella Black was coming today," his Dad said when Draco was close enough.

His face paled. Grandma Ella! It was her birthday, and she was coming over along with Grandpa Cygnus for dinner. How could he have forgotten?

"I'm sorry Dad," he said sheepishly, dropping his gaze and shuffling his foot. "I hope I didn't offend them."

His Dad watched him sharply for a few seconds, before breaking into a bright smile.

"Served them right anyway," he said, crouching down until he was eye-level with Draco, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "She insinuated that we were raising an uncouth delinquent instead of the debonair gentlemen like she expected. I told one of the elves to put a small dose of Sneezing Potion into her soup, so she'd leave early."

Draco laughed, although he wasn't entirely sure what his Grandma had insulted to be at the end of one of his dad's pranks. His dad ruffled his hair and fell silent, thinking.

"Come on Draco, I want to show you something," he said suddenly, standing up and taking Draco's small hand in his.

He was leading them into a direction of the yard Draco had not explored yet, a pathway that his Mom and Dad had always told him to stay away from. A small fear flared up in him, and he tightened his grip on his dad's hand.

"Are we going to the lake, Dad?" he asked uncertainly.

"Not quite, Draco," he answered mysteriously. "We're going to where you can see the lake, but we'll be quite a distance above it."

They followed the winding pathway in silence for a few minutes, the area around them getting more and more dense. After about 15 minutes, a clearing came into view and Draco could see what looked like a large hill with a set of marble stairs inlaid into its side.

"What do you remember about our family history, Draco?" his dad asked as they began to climb up the hill-stairs.

Draco puffed up his chest and raised his chin confidently. He remembered everything his Mom had taught him about their family legacy.

"The Malfoy family is an ancient name that spans back to the 12th century. It is one of only a handful of truly pureblood families still in existence. The first written record of Malfoy money originated in France, with Malfoi DeLaFin, Duke of Savignon, serving as the official magical consultant to King Louis XII. Centuries later, in 1776, Edouard du Malfoi took the Malfoy fortune to Great Britain at the start of the French Revolution, where he waited out the war until-"

"That's a very colorful and descriptive lesson son," his dad said, with a trace of a grin. "But tell me, do you know who your…Great, great, great, great grandfather was?"

Draco furrowed his brow. The sun had fully set by now, and Draco watched the shards of light shine off of his father's long hair as he thought.

"His name was Scorpius Luis Malfoy," his dad added helpfully.

"Oh," Draco said, suddenly smiling, "I know that. Scorpius Luis Malfoy, order of Merlin, First class, single-handedly doubled the Malfoy fortune when he saved the life of Lori Gordon, the Minister of Magic at the time."

"Very good Draco, but don't you think it's troubling that you only know your family by names and dates and significant events?"

They had reached the top of the hill-stairs. They stopped before what looked like a large temple built of white marble. It's face shone like a dream in the bright blue of pre night, that time when the sun had set but it isn't dark enough yet to be afraid. There was no door to the building, only a large entranceway that looked strangely bright, as if there were torches already lit inside.

"How else would I remember them by Dad, if not like this?"

"Well, do you know what your great-grandfather looks like?"

"Yes…I think. He's…umm… Devon Malfoy, right?"

"Yes," his dad said, ruffling Draco's hair and making him flush with pride of getting the answer right. He began to lead them into the temple again. "But it's fine if you don't remember every ancestor you've ever had Draco. There are a lot of them. It's not as if you will be tested on your knowledge of the Malfoy legacy anytime soon. And after all, if you remembered every person who ever begot you, you'd start to forget that they were people."

"How could I forget that, Dad?" Draco laughed. "What else would they be? Trolls?"

His dad laughed at that, but it was a sad sort of laugh, one that Draco didn't particularly like. They entered the small temple, and Draco wasn't surprised to find that torches were burning in here. They must be enchanted to burn at night all of the time, in case a Malfoy ever decided to come here and not have to bother with lighting his own rooms.

"No, I guess they wouldn't be trolls, son. But there is a difference in remembering that Devon Malfoy became Head of the Aurors department in 1925 and that he loved to play the violin for his grandchildren when they spent the night. There is a difference in remembering that his son, Abraxas Malfoy nearly disgraced the Malfoy name when he married Estrella Vernice, a Veela, and that he loved the smell of freshly planted orchids. Do you understand?"

Draco was silent for a while. Around them, the small temple shone with what must have been gold and silver lining every wall, top to bottom. The pillars surrounding them looked to have been carved of pure ivory. Draco yearned to explore the place, but he could sense that this meant something to his dad, even if he wasn't sure what.

"I think I do Dad," he said slowly, not wanting to get this wrong. "It's more important to remember someone for who they were, not for what they did."

"Exactly Draco," his dad said, smiling proudly. Then, in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, he swept Draco up into his arms and kissed his forehead softly. "You're a smart boy."

Draco flushed proudly, but didn't know what to say. Only one other time in his life did he ever remember his dad picking him up in this fashion: when Draco broken his leg two years earlier. And even then, he had only picked him up long enough to Apparate them to St. Mungo's before he handed Draco to a Healer.

"Come, this isn't what I wanted to show you," his dad said as they traveled through the temple and came upon a back exit. It was really just a large opening in the building, with a slab of granite covering the floor on the outside of it. However, Draco was sure that some kind of ancient magic was the only thing holding the granite floor in place. Directly under them and stretching for ages all around them was a lake shining brilliantly in the moonlight.

"What? Dad, how…?" But Draco couldn't finish his sentence. He turned back to the temple behind them and could distinctly make out the entranceway and the grassy hill beyond that. He faced the water again; it looked as if it was some kind of vast ocean, stretching on in all directions, even to where Draco knew the hill must stand. His dad laughed.

"The hill serves as a large cave when you're on Eridanus, the lake itself, son," he said by way of answer. "It's a bit confusing, but earth magic tends to play tricks on your eyesight and mind in that way. When you get to Hogwarts, you'll understand that sometimes magic can take on a life of its own."

Draco was fascinated. He repeated the name of the lake over and over in his head. It sounded ancient and mysterious and…perfect. Draco wanted to know everything there was to know about this kind of magic suddenly. Secretly he vowed to make it his life's goal…or rather, his other life's goal.

"What is this place Dad?" Draco asked, gesturing to the temple behind them.

"It was built many years ago, when my great grandmother developed an interest in the spirit world."

"You mean like ghosts?" Draco gasped a little and tightened his grip around his dad's neck.

"Sort of," he admitted. "I never really understood the true concept, but she was particularly interested in having her magical core connect to the earth's natural magic. She loved the idea of magical Buddhism, so she bought this portion of the grounds when she felt all of the natural magic residing here. Then she built this temple and began to meditate."

"What was she trying to do?"

"She never really said. My great grandfather used to say it was because she was trying to find an inner state of magical Nirvana, where she didn't really own her magic, but felt her magic become one with the magic residing inside of the earth and everyone around her. Others…however, believe it was just a plot to try to harness the power of the earth and use it to her advantage."

"Oh," Draco said. After a pause his dad set him down again.

"That's not what I brought you here for, however," he said with a small sigh.

"Was it for the lake?"

"No, not for the lake. I wanted to show you something, and it's easier to see it from this particular spot, since magical objects can be seen more distinctly here."

He waved his wand and a telescope appeared before them. His dad looked through the end for a while, seeming to trace a certain object's movement through the sky. Finally he stopped and conjured a small step for Draco to reach the eyepiece.

"Look Draco," he said.

Draco did, but saw nothing special except for the thousands of stars that shone upon the Manor every night. Draco was confused. They had gone star gazing before, but it was always much later at night and normally in the west tower of the manor, so that they wouldn't wake Mom.

"Do you see anything different?" Dad asked quietly.

"No, I just see a bunch of stars."

"Look closer Draco," his dad urged. "Something…out of place, different."

Draco was silent for nearly a full minute, squinting into the eyepiece of the telescope, trying to see something other than the hundreds of tiny white lights.

"No," he said again. "I can't-" but then he did see something suddenly: a tiny, flashing, purple…something. He gasped in a way that only awe-struck children know how to gasp. "What is it Dad?"

"It's a tribute to someone," he said softly. "It's there because that person wanted his family to remember who he was and who he loved, and not the mistakes in his life."

"But what is it?" Draco asked, fascinated.

"It's a ball of Everlasting Fire, charmed to burn purple and green until the end of the world and perhaps after that."

"Wow," he whispered. "Who did it?"

"Your granddad, Abraxas. My Father."

"But why?"

His dad said nothing for a second, and when Draco pulled his eyes away from the small dot in the heavens, it was to see his dad staring out towards the lake wistfully.

"He made several mistakes and came very close to losing the Malfoy fortune," he said quietly. "He got it back by less than legal means. For a long time the name 'Malfoy' was disgraced because of some of the things that he did. I was about your age when he first brought me up here and performed the spells that birthed that star of magical fire. He said that as long as I remembered that he loved me, the public disgrace would be nothing. If, however, I refused to remember my father the human, and believed that his mistakes defined who he was, then he would have truly failed as a man. Do you understand, son?"

Draco nodded, but he wasn't entirely sure his dad saw it. He was still gazing out into the night, not seeing it at all. Perhaps he was seeing the past in the shadowy depths of the lake. Suddenly he turned to Draco.

"When you're older, son, you will discover that I myself have made mistakes in my life. They might be ancient history by then, but then again, they may come back to life. I recognize and understand my mistakes may have devastating consequences on my family, but just remember what I said tonight. As long as you remember who I am, and you can forgive me for what I have done in the past, then I might not have failed in my lifetime."

Draco watched his dad as he resumed his staring out into the darkness of the lake. The light from the temple made strange shadows dance across his dad's face, making him look older than Draco knew he was.

"And who are you, Dad?" Draco asked quietly.

His dad turned to him sharply, watching him with an unreadable expression. Then he knelt down until they were eye to eye again and pulled Draco into a hug.

"I am your father, Draco," he said. "And I love you and your mother with all my heart."