A/N: I must apologize to You Know Who. This is not the epilogue. To everyone else, thank you for being here.

I find it interesting that as I write I am forced to include certain scenes from the book. What is curious is how these differ, aside from the fact that HP experience his version of this scene near the end of the seventh book. But then, Draco was always a prodigy.

Chapter 28: All in a Dream

As the green glow faded to white, Draco heaved a sigh. All the little pains, as well as the big one, were gone. It was such a relief that he started to laugh.

"Someone is a little too happy."

It was a girl's voice. Draco looked down and saw her, twelve or thirteen, golden blond hair like his. Her eyes were grey instead of green. She seemed very familiar.

"You're naked."

The girl gave a laugh of her own.

"So are you, silly. Why don't you think us some clothes?" With a sly smile, she added, "School robes would be nice."

"Think?"

"It's your dream. Think about clothes. Whatever you want to wear."

Draco decided it was worth a try. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Gryffindor robes. He felt cloth covering him, shoes and socks on his feet. And the girl in front of him squealed with delight, which caused him to open his eyes.

"Dad will love you for this. Thanks."

She was wearing Slytherin robes. They were open in the front, revealing an outfit almost identical to what Hermione had been wearing. As a curious look came over her face, she pulled on the front of the jeans she was wearing and looked down. She raised her head, a smile on her face. "They're pink, in case you wanted to know." Before he could react, she grabbed his hand.

"C'mon. You should hurry. You're going to wake up eventually."

Draco stared. She had grabbed his right hand. The one which had been cut off. She tugged again and he let her lead him to wherever. Everything was white, although it felt like he was walking on a hard surface. He asked where they were going. The girl said she didn't know, they hadn't got there yet. He would recognize it.

Draco laughed. Then he thought of another question. By this time the white seemed to be swirling, like a light fog. He asked what her name was.

"Don't have one." Her happiness seemed to fade a little. "I wasn't around long enough." She stopped and looked at him, hopefully. "You can give me one. They won't mind."

The fog had formed a line of trees and vague shapes that might have been buildings. Ignoring this, Draco looked only at the girl in front of him who was hopefully squeezing his hand. He asked for time to think. It was all too new to him. She told him not to take too long. Then she was leading him along the ghostly path.

As they walked, the shapes became clearer, more distinct. The tree shapes became trees and the leaves started to turn green. The trunks turned brown. The sky became blue. And the gate they walked up to was too familiar. As was the house beyond it.

"Janice."

"Whot?"

Draco looked at the girl. "You said 'whot'?"

"You always do."

"That's because I don't know any better."

"And I should?"

Draco had to laugh at her smirk. "Yeah, Sis, you should."

The girl beamed at him, as though he had said something wonderful.

It was a sad thought, but Draco couldn't feel said. Not in this place. All those times when he remembered his parents, he remembered the green flare and his father shouting, "Save Them". And now he thought back to those little things that baby Draco had seen but didn't understand. One memory was telling. Mum telling Dad something and Dad hugging her. After they kissed, he put his hand on her stomach. Mum smiled and nodded. They hugged, again. Two weeks later, they were dead. And standing before him was the sister he never had.

"Janice," he repeated.

"You said that before. Who is she?"

"My sister, after a fashion. She lives here." He paused as he thought how to say his next words. "She wouldn't mind sharing it, if you like."

Janice gave him the biggest smile in the world. The next second, her arms were around his waist and she was hugging him. "I'm glad I have a brother like you."

His sister stepped back and wiped a tear from her cheek. She turned, too quickly, and opened the gate. "Let's go in. Dad's waiting."

"Mum?"

"Her, too but it's Dad you need to talk to."

As the gate closed, a moaning voice was heard. Startled, Draco turned quickly at the noise. Lying against the fence, not too far from the gate, was a gnarly twisted shape. It resembled a young boy whose body had been bent all out of shape. Draco stepped toward the body.

"NO."

Janice grabbed his arm quickly and pulled him back.

"You can't help him. And you daren't touch him."

"Is he dangerous?"

"No. Not here. Even though he's grown some since the last time." She saw the look in his eyes. "Draco, he's in pain, but he's the one who's hurting himself. Best leave him be. Forget about him." She smiled, again. "C'mon. Dad's waiting."

She led him to the door and opened it. Draco followed her in.

Lucius Malfoy was sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace. The one Draco always sat at. He was wearing a suit, the same suit the boggart had worn. He looked at the two children and smiled. Janice ran up to him and twirled around, showing him her robes. He smiled at her and grabbed her into a hug as she stepped close to him. Lucius told her she looked wonderful.

A voice called. A familiar voice from Draco's earliest memories.

"Janice, it's time Draco talked to his father."

Draco looked at the staircase. His mother was standing there. A jumper pulled over her blouse. She was smiling as though it was a normal day at home. Janice started toward her, then ran back to Draco. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and said, "See you later, Bro." She ran to her mother just as quickly and they walked up the steps together. Then they were out of sight.

"Draco?"

He looked at his father. The man was gesturing to the chair across from him. It was both a question, if he wanted to sit, and a command, do it because I'm telling you. Draco walked over and sat down, the smile refusing to leave his face.

"This reminds me of the house your mother and I lived in. Your sister lives here?"

"Janice. We grew up together at the home. I inherited the house when Uncle Al died. Um, Alastor Moody."

Lucius nodded. "A good man. I'm sorry to hear he passed away."

Draco tried to frown. "How did you know about Janice and . . ."

Lucius held up his hand. "Because you mentioned her to your sister. This is your dream, Draco. A wonderful dream, I might add, but still only a dream."

"Then you're not really here?"

"I am. Because you dreamed me here." Lucius waved his hand to dismiss the matter. "It isn't important how I came here or how I know the things I do. What is important is that I have the chance to talk to you. A chance to answer a few questions, to explain things."

"But," Draco protested, "dreams aren't real. How can you explain things unless I already know them?"

"Dreams are real, especially when you're in them. And I can explain things because I am your father. You dreamed me as your father, not someone who acts like a father." He smiled, almost laughing. "I'm real because you think I am. Does that help?"

"No." Draco was laughing as well. The conversation made no sense to him although it seemed it was always about to. "What are you going to tell me?"

"Well," Lucius paused, eyeing his son, "you aren't dead. That's always a good thing to hear."

"Not if it means waking up where I was."

"Better than not waking up at all. But that is beside the point. Did Alastor ever talk about me?" When Draco shook his head, Lucius nodded. "And Severus, he is still alive? Did he ever talk about me?"

"You and Mum, all the time."

"About what I did?"

Draco shook his head. "Only about personal things. About how you and Mum loved each other."

Lucius smiled at memories. "I never knew love," he said softly. "Your mother taught me." His eyes had a faraway look. "I wanted her. I wanted her more than anything else. I was nice to her, always friendly, always helpful. She liked me for that. Then I asked her if we could be more than friends. She asked me if I loved her. I started to say, 'of course, I do,' but her look stopped me. She wanted the truth, even if it was painful. I hesitated. She turned away. I whispered to her, 'I do not know what love is.' She turned back to me and told me, 'this is what love is'. Then she kissed me. Softly, on the lips."

His face became stern. "Until that moment, I was Lucius Malfoy, the ambitious son of the Malfoy clan. I had decided that I would have my heir. I would secure my bloodline, by that woman. And I knew how to get whatever I wanted. But at that moment . . . I knew I couldn't get what I wanted. I had to give it."

"Huh?" Draco asked.

"I wanted her love, Draco. I wanted your mother to love me. But the only way that would happen was if I loved her. And I couldn't make myself love her. So I told her it would be best if she forgot I ever said anything. She said she would if I would tell her why." Lucius seemed about to cry. "I threw all caution to the wind and told her about my involvement with a group called the Death Eaters. How I was helping to organize things. I told her about Voldemort's plans. She was revolted. And as the disgust filled her face, I felt the same in my stomach. When she asked why I didn't leave them, I told her there was only one way I could. I warned her there was going to be a war. I told her it had already started. Do you know what she did? She suggested I talk to Dumbledore. That he might be able to help." He wiped a tear. "She said he might be able to help 'us'. " He smiled as he wiped his eyes. "And that is how I found out what love was. It wasn't long after, despite knowing what was in store, that she accepted my proposal. And the day you were born, I wasn't happy because I finally had my son and heir. I was happy because we were now a family."

Lucius laughed as Draco gave him a confused look. "My first explanation: Love is not I love her and she loves me. Love is we love each other." Another laugh. "Love isn't having. Love is sharing." One final laugh. "It will come to you, all of a sudden, and it will be obvious."

"An epiphany," Draco said, remembering something Janice had told him back at the home.

Father and son looked at each other for a few minutes. Draco tried to understand what his father had told him. He finally asked when he thought he knew.

"You became a spy?"

"For lack of a better word. But I was too well in to pass along any secrets by myself. I recruited someone to be the go between. He was very good at his job. Not that he did it for me. Severus loved your mother from the first." He gave Draco a grim smile. "When I knew I was discovered, I had barely enough time to give him a warning. He became Voldemort's favorite by betraying me." He smiled at Draco's shock. "It turns out that your mother and I had already'disappeared'."

"You were found, though. How?"

Lucius nodded. "Stupid, really. Someone saw me. Mentioned it to a friend, who also mentioned it. Someone else overheard the remark and passed it on to you know who."

Draco had to snort. Many was the time someone mentioned You Know Who as a way of saying don't use his name. His father had used the same phrase in a casual manner as to say there's no need to tell you. He also felt he had to say something.

"Peter Pettigrew found me. Did you know he was a spy?"

Lucius shook his head. "I am surprised. He always seemed too much of a coward."

"He was brave enough, tonight." Draco looked his father in the eyes. "He's back."

"I know. That's why you're here. And that is why you are going to return."

Draco's eyes were drawn toward the fire. It seemed so normal. Sitting here. Everything quiet and peaceful.

A low moan from the outside could be heard in the quiet. It was a stinging reminder of where he was. He turned to look at his father. He asked what it was that his father wanted to tell him.

"Everything." The smile became stern, his father's voice, lecturing. "But first, I have to ask you to trust me. You won't understand everything I tell you, but you have friends who will help you understand. Will you trust me?"

Draco said, "of course." His father told him to think about it. This was all a dream. It could be a controlled dream. It could be a trick. Draco nodded his head in agreement at the idea. He then said he would still trust his father. Until he found reason not to.

"It's called a Horcrux. That is why Voldemort killed you."

When Draco asked what a Horcrux was, he was given a simple answer. It was a common object imbued with a part of one's soul. It keeps one from dying. And Voldemort had a prepared spell to make a new Horcrux. But it failed. He assumed that Draco had found it and used it. Therefore, if Draco died, he was wrong and the spell failed on it's own. If Draco lived, more or less, he was right and the Horcrux could be found and destroyed. Even at the loss of a new servant.

"Did I make a Horcrux?"

Lucius smiled without humour. "That is not why you still live. Lily is the reason." A flicker if joy as he mentioned Draco's mother. "I know you remember. She sacrificed her life as a shield to save yours. He protection lies within you. And Voldemort has a part of you in him." He reminded Draco. "You sacrificed your hand."

"But," Draco smiled, "You're right. I am confused."

"You understand well enough. You had a part of him in you, from when he was destroyed. He has a part of you in him from his restoration. He cannot kill you without killing himself. That is why you did not die. But something did."

Draco followed his father's gaze to the door. To the disfigured boy outside the door.

"She said it grew larger." Draco, almost fearful, looked back. "Was I . . ."

Lucius nodded. Draco was silent as he thought about what was said. It seemed to take a long time but he finally put the pieces together. The diary was obvious. Draco snorted and was forced to explain the anagram of Tom Riddle's name. Lucius laughed, saying up to that moment he had always liked the name, Mia.

"Then you understand, Draco. You've crossed paths before."

"The diary. The locket. The cup. And me." He asked, hesitantly, "Do you, do you know how many there are."

Lucius paused. "The Dark Lord knows the numbers of power. If I had to guess, I would say three or seven. And we know it's not three. But . . . it is a guess, Draco. And he did not know about you. But . . . and this is also a guess . . . he has been restored only recently. If we assume the worst, you were the seventh. That would mean three still exist, at the least. And he knows the diary was destroyed. I assume he doesn't know about the other two. That means he plans on making two more in the near future, unless he suspects and goes to investigate." He glared at Draco. "In each of those cases, the evidence points to you, I'd wager."

"But . . ." Draco had no defense.

The glare softened. "You need to know, Draco. Your life hangs by a delicate thread."

Another period of silence, longer this time, punctuated twice by the low moaning. It was broken by his father's voice drawling, "I could help, Draco. It won't be much. Simply build up your confidence." He shared Draco's laugh. "You need to be sure of yourself, Draco, and I am being serious. The more confidence you have the better prepared you will be to do 'whatever', to do that one thing that will make sure you remain alive."

"Confidence?"

"Have you heard of James Potter? Best Auror in his day, except for Moody and Shacklebolt. The third time I escaped from him, I was staring at his wand inches from my nose." He smiled. "Sometimes you can hold a wand too close for it to be effective."

Draco grinned and agreed with what his father was saying. "Confidence." He added, shyly, "I'm glad you're smarter than I am."

Lucius didn't laugh or smile at the remark. "The truth is, Draco, that you are a little smarter than I am, but I have a lot more experience. Now, shall we try for some confidence. I don't know what you'll face when you return, but I know that you will know what to do."

"And how do I start?"

"Close your eyes."

Lucius told Draco to picture Voldemort as vividly as possible. To take his best memory and put it in the forefront of his mind. He was then told to hold firmly to that image. "Think about me. No, hold the vision of Voldemort restored in your mind but think about me, about how you feel about me. I know it is difficult, trying to keep two distinct impressions in your mind at the same time. But try. And let me know when you think you have it."

Draco tried his best. The funny part was trying as hard as possible didn't work. He did better when he relaxed. He could picture Voldemort but every time he tried to think of his father, the face would morph. He finally hit upon a little trick to attach the image with the thought. It was disconcerting to think about but, then, he was thinking it, not thinking about it.

Lucius asked if Draco was ready only moments after he had finally relaxed. Draco nodded his head. Lucius explained that he was going to count to five slowly and to himself. When he felt the hand touch his cheek, he should open his eyes.

Draco kept his mind free, only the thought and the image in his mind. He waited. He felt the hand touch his face. And opened his eyes.

Lord Voldemort was there, kneeling in front of him. They were looking directly into each other's eyes.

An instant later, Draco understood that his mental shields were down. At the same time, all feeling returned to his body. Draco screamed as he closed his eyes. His mental shields, through years of habit, fell back into place. And Voldemort was yelling. That he wasn't hurt. That he was fine. That he was more than fine. There was another popping noise. Some arguing that Draco couldn't make out. All it did was give time for Draco to get some control over the pain before Voldemort turned his attention back to him.

"Can you stand, Draco?" he asked. He waved a hand. "Help him up. GENTLY." As Draco steadied himself on his feet, the Dark Lord stood next to him, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"This boy gave his right hand that I might be restored. I will place him at my right hand. Anyone who harms Draco Malfoy will answer to me." When Draco looked up, he saw a smile on the man's/monster's face. "We will talk again, Draco, when it is time. And let Severus know that I trust him." He turned his eyes and Draco followed his glance. One Death Eater was there without a mask.

Bartemius Crouch, Junior.

"Good Evening, Professor."

A surprised Crouch gave a small nod in return.

"And now, Draco, it is time for your spectacular escape."

"Uh, yeah." Draco saw he was still holding his wand. With difficulty, he put it back in his wand pocket, an action he normally performed with his right hand. His left hand empty, he reached into a pocket beneath his Quidditch robes the coin was still there. He realized the Dark Lord was saying something. "Oh, what, um, Master?"

"We're were talking about your escape."

"I'm ready."

Voldemort took his hand off Draco's shoulder and held it up to emphasize his question. "And where do you want to escape to."

Draco grasped the coin firmly. "Already worked that out, Sir. Saint Mungo's."

The world swirled and became white. The trip by portkey was too much for Draco, however. The last thing he saw before passing out was a Healer looking at him in surprise.