Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury books, Scholastic books and Warner Brothers have that pleasure. I am merely borrowing them

Complete summary: In Draco Malfoy's seventh year his life takes a drastic turn as he develops an illness and learns a secret about the Malfoys. Decisions he makes while ill impact his personal relationships bringing him closer to his father and godfather and driving a wedge between Draco and Pansy's father. The story will include a chilling broom flight, intense fights and even a little Malfoy house-elf payback.

Chapter One: Great Expectations

Draco sat heavily on his bed, his mind consumed with dark thoughts. He absentmindedly ran a hand through his fair hair. Breathe, Draco, breathe. You can get through this. He deliberately slowed his breathing to calm his jangled nerves. Checking his watch he noted that it was not yet time. He dreaded the upcoming meeting.

His father had high expectations for him, that was true. He didn't really mind that. It was the thought of his mother that set his palms to sweating. He had been waiting for the other shoe to drop since Christmas break began.

It's not as though his parents had ever physically struck him. It simply was unnecessary. Each "not good enough" was a slap, each "humiliating the family name" was a kick, each "you've let us down" a punch. Draco felt each agonizing blow to his fragile ego.

The news was not good. He had been, yet again, ranked second… second to Hermione Granger. He was ranked higher than everyone else, even Golden Boy Potter! Higher than everyone else… except the one… the girl… the mudblood.

Mother flipped last year when the rankings came out. Her normally placid face had been filled with rage.

"How could you allow it! If you couldn't beat her than why didn't you just kill her?! It shouldn't be that difficult?"

He still wondered if she was serious about that last part.

When Ron Weasley had been chosen as Head Boy Father was livid. "That fool Dumbledore! He is always favoring the Gryffindors… Weasley doesn't hold a candle to you, son… Such an old fool!" His fist pounded on his desk for emphasis. "Few people know that he plans to rehire the werewolf. Yes, that idiot Fudge allowed it, of course…." Another slam to the table sent parchment fluttering to the floor. "Since Golden Boy Potter has been through so much." His words fairly dripped venom.

Of course, Father had been through quite a lot himself. Placed in Azkaban at the end Draco's fifth year he remained there for two months, an eternity for someone such as his father. He had not been allowed visitors. He had not even been allowed his health potion, which his mother went on about endlessly. She seemed more concerned about his lack of potions than his incarceration.

Mother had been tireless in her efforts to get him said potion. His Head of House had even interceded on her behalf explaining the need for the potion.

Why all of this commotion about a damned potion? No one would tell him. Mother said it kept Father healthy.

When the wheels of justice began to move again, thanks to the grease of money and connection, Father was released. Draco was forbidden to see him. Mother kept him in the dungeons of the manor until he was "well again". Draco couldn't understand how he could get better in the dank dungeon air but it wouldn't do to cross Mother.

He did see Father two days after his release. Draco woke up and saw his father peering down at him. His usually immaculate hair was a mess.

"Father?" Draco sat up.

"Who are you. Are you a changeling, come to take my place?" He bent closer to Draco, his eyes narrowing.

Draco reached for his father but the elder Malfoy immediately recoiled moving several steps away. Draco swung his legs over the bed. "Dad?" he ventured again.

Lucius Malfoy bolted from the room.

"Wait." Draco followed his father to the doorway. Suddenly his mother was there, blocking his path.

"Go back to bed dear, " she cooed. "Your father is just sleepwalking. Go on. Back to bed with you." She waited while he got back into bed. She closed the door and he could swear he heard a locking spell.

Almost a week later Draco was surprised to see his father at the breakfast table. He was reading the paper and complaining about whatever drivel the Prophet was doling out that day. Everything was back to normal.

Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts. That was then and this was now. A glance at his watch told him it was time. After a few more deep breaths he created a mirror of his mother's schooled mask of indifference. He was ready.

*****

The study was empty save for the crackling fire in the hearth, which pulled Draco towards it. He began to pace as the smells of breakfast assaulted his senses causing the bile to slowly rise in his throat. After all these years these "meetings" still invoked fear. I'm not good enough. I can never be good enough. Lost in his own ruminations he didn't notice the door to the study open.

"You're prowling this room like a caged animal. Stop and sit down." Narcissa Malfoy's eyes narrowed as she studied her son. Lucius Malfoy took his seat behind the desk. Narcissa sat opposite and motioned for Draco to sit in the other chair.

"You are halfway through your last year, Draco," his father began. "This is your last chance to really prove yourself."

"--It is a time to finally show your true worth," said Narcissa. She leaned forward and took his hands. "Second, my son…again. It would not be nearly as humiliating if you did not keep losing to a mudblood girl." Her voice became deceptively soft. "You must not let us down again."

"Now, my dear. The boy must also be allowed to enjoy his last few months of freedom. It will be the last he will have for some time to come."

"Lucius Malfoy!" she spat. "We must do what is best for our son. Do you not agree?" She turned her attention back to Draco. "Do not listen to him, son." Lucius snorted but said nothing more. She moved closer to Draco. Their knees were now touching. "NEWTs are coming up. They are the most important exams in your life. Do not doubt that. You can do better. I was the best in class in my year. You could be, as well."

If she is saying could, why do I hear must? Draco looked into his mother's icy blue eyes.

His father broke the tension, changing the subject. "How are things going with that Parkinson girl?"

"Pansy? Fine, I suppose." Draco knew where this was heading.

"Her family is very anxious for a match. As you know, the Parkinson's are purest of the purebloods. Their fortune is a pittance compared to ours, but whose is not?" His father smiled leaning forward and steepling his fingers. "We do not wish to force you, son, but you must think of the future, of the Malfoy name. A good match will secure the name for generations to come."

"Yes, Father."

"Good. I believe that breakfast awaits. I will then take you to the station on the way to the ministry." Lucius stood, the others followed suit. As they exited the room, Narcissa took her son's arm delaying him.

She handed him a small vial, folding his fingers over it as if it were a precious jewel. "Use this. It will not kill her, only affect her memory." He nodded, ever the obedient son, and left the room.

*****

Safely in his room, he scrutinized the vial held tightly in his hands. It gave off a neon glow even in the broad daylight. He uncorked it, sniffed it, and his suspicions were confirmed. Memory potion, my arse. Didn't she remember that he was second in class? Potions was also his best subject. Merlin, he wasn't Goyle. Yeah, this would affect her memory, all right. When you're dead you can't seem to remember anything. He pocketed the vial and collected his things.