Draco's hand shot into his pocket in search of his wand. He knew Voldemort would never let them live through this but he was going to die fighting. He was trying to organize his thoughts and try to focus on a good hex to use but all he could think about was trying to get Ginny away and safe. He tried to stand slowly, without drawing too much attention to them, but as he stood his elbow knocked his coffee cup off the table causing it fall to the ground. The sound of shattering glass was barely heard over the busy market but Voldemort had seen the whole thing.

The black haired youth hurried over with a concerned expression and knelt down next to Draco. He started picking up pieces carefully and setting them on the edge of the café table.

"You should be more careful around the lady, she could have been cut." He stood and winked at Ginny, who turned ghostly pale. Draco stepped between them and held out his wand. Voldemort looked at the wand with mild interest.

"What an interesting stick? Did you whittle it yourself?" Draco blinked. What did he think he was playing at? Voldemort was acting like he had never seen a wand before. Draco was at a loss for words. Voldemort always made him freeze on the spot, ever since he was a boy. His wit just dried up and all threats he thought of sounded empty and juvenile. But this time Draco decided to actually say something instead of gaping like a frightened child.

"Come off it, are we supposed to believe that a man looking exactly like sixteen year old Voldemort, who has been dead now for quite some time, just happens to be in the same market in the same city in the world as we are? God, you really are as stupid as you look." His mercury eyes darkened with threat, "Where's Felix?" He shocked himself by saying the kids name.

"I'm sorry," Voldemort said slowly his face painting a perfect mask of fright and confusion, "But I think you have mistaken me for someone else. My name is Mark, not Volde-whatsit. And frankly you might consider getting some serious help, I was just trying to help you clean up the mess you made." Draco growled slightly making Mark flinch. "Please…I just…I didn't mean…please don't hurt me!" And with that last squeaky request he gathered his sprouts hastily and sprinted out of the market knocking over a few people and carts as he looked back.

Draco was shaking slightly from containing his rage for so long. What was that all about? Did he think they were fools? They weren't about to believe that some man who looks exactly like a sixteen year old Voldemort just happens to be in the same market as him and Ginny, out of thousands of markets in all of Cairo, and just happens to make contact with them. No, there was a plan, a purpose here somewhere, if only he could figure out what…

"Someone HELP! I think she's having a seizure! Someone call an ambulance!" Draco spun to see Ginny convulsing uncontrollably on the ground. Her eyes were rolled back into her head and white foam was forming at the corners of her mouth. Draco felt like a bolt of lightning had just shot through him, all he could do was stand there and stare. Finally, the woman who had screamed shook him violently and yelled for him to "do something!" He quickly knelt next to Ginny and whispered the full body bind curse while pointing the wand into her ribs. Nothing happened. She was still convulsing, her eyes still rolled around blankly and the foam increased. A moan escaped her lips, as if she was in pain. Draco wrapped his arms around her, propped her head against his shoulder and whispered words of comfort into her ear.

"Shhh, it's all right. Everything is ok. Shhh, yes it's ok, you're just fine." He rocked her back and forth and kept whispering into her ear until the ambulance (who someone had apparently called) came.

Draco's mind was in a haze, his whole body was numb as he watched the men strap Ginny to a board and cover her face with a plastic bubble mask-thing. What had just happened? Why Ginny?

"Sir? Are you coming with us?" Draco started at the sound of the man's voice. He turned and stared blankly.

"What?"

"Are you coming or not? We have to get her to the hospital now!"

"Uh…" Draco stammered. Should he go? Every molecule in his body screamed yes, but his mind told his that he needed to investigate the reason why this was happening to Ginny. He knew it was Voldemort's work but still needed to know how.

"Where are you taking her?"

"To the Dar El-Shefa Hospital on Ramses Street." With a weak smile and a reassuring word, he leapt onto the back of the ambulance and drove away with Ginny.

Draco was frozen. He tried to keep his feelings on the other side of the wall he had built long ago. There were bigger things he had to take care of instead of just standing in the middle of the street and worrying about Ginny. If he was going to help her at all he would have to find the reason for all of this.

The place to start was Voldemort. But Voldemort hadn't touched either of them and the only way to inflict that kind of damage was by touch. He had seen something similar to this only once, when Katie Bell had touched the opal necklace his sixth year, and since he had plated the necklace in the first place he knew how to stop the convulsions. It again came to finding the source.

"All right, nothing to see. To back to your business." The manager of the café had come out and was now shooing the people away. A bus boy came out with a broom and started sweeping up the mess the paramedics had made.

Draco sat at the table he and Ginny had been at only an hour before and tried to think, but all he could think of was Ginny alone in a Muggle hospital with tubes coming out of her. He had been at one of those things they called a hospital only once before and he had vowed to never enter one again, even if it meant his life. They stuck him with pointy metal objects and made him swallow small round things that made him feel like he had been hexed.

He looked down at the table where a piece of the teacup he had broken lay precariously on the edge. Something tugged at his hazy mind. Voldemort had picked up pieces of the cup and put them on the table. That meant something, but Draco's mind was too unfocused. Draco closed his silver eyes and rubbed his temples. Ok…think! What if Voldemort silently hexed the pieces while they were distracted? But Ginny would have had to touch one. Maybe she did when he wasn't looking. Since that was all he could process at the moment Draco decided that is what happened.

Draco looked around the ground to find something to pick up the teacup shards with. He picked up a latex glove and carefully scooped the piece on the table into it without having it make contact with his hand.

He tied the end of the glove and put it in his pocket.

Michael dangled his feet in the chill pool water and leaned back lazily onto his hands. It had been agonizingly boring that day with Lord Voldemort gone. To where he could not say which annoyed him even more. The man certainly kept a lot of secrets, which seemed weird since they were supposedly brothers.

Michael's stomach growled loudly as if trying to get his attention. In answer to the growl his personal servant Mordecai (he still found it odd and disturbing that he even had a servant, but had learned to live with it after Voldemort rebuked him for trying to "free" him. He had tried to talk to Mordecai many times, tried to goad him into conversation, but the dark man never spoke or even smiled.) glided over with a tray littered with fruit, cheese, bread and olives. Michael smiled.

"Thanks Mordecai, why donchya sit and eat with me, I haven't seen you eat in hours." Mordecai simply stared for a moment before nodding slightly, his face remaining neutral the whole time. His servant bent gracefully and sat cross-legged next to the blonde boy. He often reminded Michael of a stalking leopard, the way he moved with silent grace and agility. A question that had been tugging at the back of his mind finally popped out in a tangle of words.

"Is my name really Michael cause I don't think it is, it just doesn't fit, you know? Something just doesn't click in my mind, it just feels wrong. Do you know what my name is?" Mordecai picked up an olive and placed it smoothly into his mouth gazing hard at the horizon. His eyes were scanning as if looking for danger off in the distance. He made no indication of even hearing the question. Michael sighed. Mordecai would never speak. Maybe he was a mute? No, he seemed to hear commands just fine, but never questions or ordinary conversation starters.

Michael started eating until his stomach felt pleasantly full, a decidedly lovely feeling. Just as he was picking up the bread crumbs with damp fingers Voldemort came out onto the deck and scanned the grounds until his azure eyes fell onto Michael and Mordecai. He smiled broadly, a rarity, and walked out to greet them, cloak billowing like shimmery silver cloud behind him. Why he was wearing a cloak on such a hot day, Michael didn't know, nor did he care.

"Brother! Glad to see you enjoying yourself, hope you're not too hot out here. Did you have Mordecai put the sun deflector spell on you? Don't want you getting sun burned now, do we?" He sounded concerned, but the slight edge on his voice and cold eyes suggested otherwise. Michael stood and ran toward Voldmort, upon reaching the handsome man he threw his arms around his waist and squeezed as hard as he could.

"Oh Voldie! You're back! Oh how I missed you big brother!" He snuggled his face into Voldemort's stomach. He could almost feel the disgust rolling off him like heat waves off the pavement. Releasing Voldemort, Michael looked up at him with his most endearing puppy-dog face he could muster. "You're never going to leave me again, are you brudder?" Voldemorts face screwed up with hatred and he looked for a moment as if he was going to sick up, but then was instantly smoothed into a charming smile. He had a bad habit of doing that it seemed.

"Of course not little one. I will always be here for you. Me and only me, remember that." Turning suddenly he addressed Michael's servant, "Mordecai, come with me for a moment, I have some very important people I need to attend to and you're the only servant I have who I cant trust to stay quiet." With that, a pat on the head and a quick wipe on the cloak Voldemort left. With a quick bow from Mordecai he followed silently, always with the dangerous grace of a leopard.

--

Michael was shaken awake gently as a calloused hand was placed over his mouth. It was very dark in his room, but having been asleep for hours his eyes had adjusted to the night. He could make out the crooked nose and sharp jaw of Mordecai standing over him. The dark man leaned close to Michael's face and whispered in a deep rasp, "Get dressed and be quiet." Michael would have been too stunned to move at hearing silent Mordecai finally speak if there hadn't been so much urgency in his servant's voice. Michael scurried out of bed, shivered when his bare feel hit the icy marble, and blindly searched for pants and a shirt. How a day so hot produced such a cold night baffled Michael.

Finally feeling a pair of pants he slipped those on and quickly pulled on a shirt, not caring if they matched. Something told him this was very serious and that now was not the time to worry about matching clothes. As soon as he tugged his sweater on Mordecai pulled him up onto his back, motioning for quiet, and stealthily made his way out to the balcony.

Michael wondered what was going on. Did he fully trust in Mordecai? Wasn't he Voldemort's lackey? Maybe his brother had finally decided to do him in. But something told Michael to trust the dark silent man. Something felt different about Mordecai, he didn't seem as purely malevolent as Voldie and the other followers.

Mordecai reached the edge of the balcony and stepped up onto the low marble railing. Michael's eyes widened when he saw a broom hovering just over the edge. What was going on?

He didn't realize he spoke aloud until Mordecai softly spoke the answer, "I am taking you back to where you belong."

"What do you mean, where I belong?" He hoped he didn't belong on the bottom of the Nile. Michael knew this place wasn't his home per say, but it was the only place he could remember.

"Back to your mother, Felix."

Pansy watched her friend over the warm mug of butterbeer. He looked tired, his sapphire eyes didn't have their usual mysterious sparkle and they were surrounded by deep red circles.

"I still can't believe you pulled it off. I thought she would have hated you, what running off all those years ago and all. She must really have wanted to see Malfoy."

"I can't believe you doubted my cunning ingenuity. It hurts Pansy, really it does." Pansy stuck her tongue out. It was like they were back in the Slytherin common room again.

"No, really Blaise, how did you get Weasley down here? And get her to bring her kid?" Blaise gave her a snake like smile, the red circles making it even more striking.

"I was just my charming self." Pansy waited for more, but when nothing came she sneered.

"Charming self, eh? And how's that go again?" Blaise winked and swept her hand off of the warm mug and gave it a light kiss.

"Oh my dear, I think you know." She couldn't stop a small giggle from escaping. Just as Blaise leaned in the door to the sitting room burst open, making a loud crack as it hit the wall. Great, another dent, Pansy thought. Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, wand in hand and looking fierce, his silver hair in wild disarray creating a sort of jagged halo.

"The boy is gone. Stop messing about and start looking! We cannot loose him!" Pansy and Blaise stood, both reaching for their wands.

"He can't have gone far, have someone search the air, the wilderness, the desert, the market!" Blaise ordered loudly. Lucius barred his teeth.

"Don't you think we're already doing that, Zabini! Now get moving before the Dark Lord finds out about this, you don't want to be around for that!"

Pushing past Malfoy, Pansy rushed out into the dark hall. She didn't know which way to go, where to start looking. Why did this one boy matter so much? He had just been hanging around doing nothing ever since he had gotten there. Why not go get a new kid, or just let this one go. Why did it matter so much? Blaise stumbled into the hall behind her, looking murderous, apparently him and Malfoy didn't get along too well.

"You go that way," He said, pointing a long brown finger to his left. "I'll go down here." And with that, he tore off down the gloomy corridor.

Pansy ran too, not wanting to be in Malfoy's wake, and decided to check the rooms. If she looked like she was doing something then no one would bother her. The first room she entered was dark like the hallway, when she lit her wand she saw all the furniture was covered in white sheets and dust was piled everywhere. Coughing slightly she closed the door.

The next three rooms were the same. The fourth was locked, but the fifth was the diamond in the ruff. The door was slightly ajar and looked as if it had been hastily hexed. Countermanding the hex was easy enough and she opened the thick door with ease. What was so important it was worth guarding? Her curiosity pulled her into the large study. A huge oak desk sat at the end of the room next to rows and rows of large dusty leather-bound books. She strode to the desk, curiosity getting the better of her. What was on the desk intrigued her, it was a large piece of parchment that looked to be a hundred years old. It was long and curled at the ends suggesting it was once rolled into a scroll. Gingerly she picked it up so she could read the faded words:

After the Boy Who Lived vanquishes the Dark Lord for the second time, One will be born of the Seventh and the First, of Fire and of Ice, of Poor and of Rich, One that will destroy the Darkness for a final time. But if the One should fall into Darkness, all will be consumed by the Night and the Light shall never conquer the Darkness again.

This was a prophecy. She knew it. She glanced at the top and saw initials and a date (about a hundred years in the past), all the makings of a prophecy.

Pansy reread the contents of the prophecy, committing it to memory before setting it back down on the desk. Now she knew why that one specific kid was so special.

Finally, room 246. Draco had had a horrible time trying to find the stupid hospital. He took a cab, which was a huge mistake since most cabdrivers in Cairo don't speak English and Draco only knew four words in Arabic. Bathroom, Airport, Food and Hospital. The last one came in handy, but his accent was so awful that he had to say it ten times before the burly driver knew what he was saying. Then Draco had forgotten the name of the hospital Ginny was at so the man took him to every hospital in Cairo. And there were a lot of them. Finally, after two hours of frustrating nurses and wrong hospitals they had found the one she was in, and the nurse spoke English…sort of…but together they figured out what room she was in.

Draco opened the door to the room, the light wasn't on so Draco switched the flip to see Ginny strapped down to the bed as her head lolled from side to side, and her eyes wide open. She wasn't jerking anymore, whatever they had dripping into the tube plugged into her hand seemed to be working.

Draco's heart ached, he felt so helpless and so small. Why would Lord Voldemort do this to her? Why would anyone attack Ginny? Draco gently cupped her hand in his.

As soon as his hand touched her hand, her head stopped rolling and she looked directly at him.

"I'm sorry…" She whispered almost inaudibly. She closed her eyes and tears started leaking out from under her lashes, "Oh, momma I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to…just happened…why did he leave me, momma?" Draco just sat there listening to her almost unintelligible ramblings, wondering what they were all about…until he heard the last part. He stiffened and tried to take his hand back, but as soon as he tried to pull it away she gripped harder. "Pregnant, momma…help me…only part of Draco left…he doesn't know…his son…name him Felix…Felix…"