"What did you call me?" The boy called Michael asked in a whisper, not because he wanted to be quiet, but because he felt like that was all he could push out of his mouth. As soon as Mordecai had said "Felix" pieces of the past started filtering in.

"You're name, young master, is Felix, not Michael as you believe it to be." They were flying now, above the wispy clouds, darkness stretching out on all four sides. Felix clung to the large man. Though he was not afraid of flying, he was afraid of the dark. He would never admit it to anyone but his mother. My mother…Mich—Felix is my name, not Michael, stupid. When Felix thought of his mother a warm feeling spread from his chest to his fingers. It filled him up like a balloon ready to burst. A foggy image had formed in his mind of her, she had red hair and warm brown eyes with a smile that could make any night seem like the brightest summer day. Do I have a father too? No feeling came nor did any image.

"Who are you?" It seemed like a lame question, but one that he couldn't help blurting out. It was a few minutes before Mordecai, if that's his real name, Felix thought, answered.

"For now, I am Mordecai, you're servant, and the man who is your only chance of escape."

"Why do I need to escape?" Again, Felix had to wait for the mans answer.

"It is not safe for you to be near the Dark Lord. He is a dangerous man, especially to a boy such as yourself."

"Why are you-"

"It is now time for quiet. Noise attracts unwanted attention, and that is one thing we do not need." Felix felt frustration bubbling inside mixing with his unquenchable curiosity, but he knew Mordecai was right. If Felix was important enough to be rescued, then he was certainly important enough to be searched for.

Then, out of the black night, a bright green light streaked past Felix's right shoulder, missing him by only a few inches. Muttering what sounded like curses in a different language, Mordecai jerked the broom handle downward just in time for a second jet of light to shoot above them, right where their heads had been.

Felix twisted around on the broom to see who was shooting at them and almost fell off the broom in shock. About twenty witches and wizards on broomsticks had somehow snuck up on them, each one pointing their wands at them.

"Uh, Mordecai? We have a slight problem."

"How many?"

"I'd say about twenty, maybe more." Felix clutched Mordecai harder as he suddenly had an image of himself plummeting into the clouds below. "What are we gunna do?"

"Just hold on, and don't let go no matter what." Felix had to stop himself from saying "Duh!" and nodded instead, not thinking that Mordecai couldn't see him. Mordecai must of felt his head move because right when he agreed to hold on, the man veered sharply to the left and up, weaving around and through chunks of cloud. All the while red and green jets of light exploded around them.

Little shards of ice pierced Felix's face as Mordecai flew higher and sped through thicker clouds. It felt like his heart was pumping adrenaline more than blood as they dodged more and more spells and came closer and closer to being hit. It was amazing! Spectacular! His thighs were soar from having them clamped onto the broom so hard and his hands were frozen into fists around bunches of Mordecai's cloak, but he felt a jolt of excitement.

Mordecai spun the broom down as two floating shadows blocked his path. Four more appeared right below them, and Mordecai swore again, this time feigning right and veering left as six more flyers blocked them. There was nowhere to go! Felix's breath shortened. He didn't know why Mordecai had taken him, but all he knew was that he didn't want to go back to Voldie. When he thought about his supposed brother, a dark filthy feeling coated his insides, like tar. Then one of the shadows spoke.

"Give us the boy, Mordecai, we won't harm him. Just hand him to me and the Dark Lord will be merciful and let your death be quick." Mordecai growled. Felix just then noticed Mordecai was holding his wand and had it pointing at the man who had spoken.

"And why should I believe a lying slug like you, Malfoy? I know the Dark Lord's plans for the boy and I won't allow it. Not so long as I am alive." The man called Malfoy chuckled darkly.

"The can be arranged." The man raised his hand like lightning and started to say a spell, "Avada Ke-" But Mordecai had zoomed the broom forward, body slamming into Malfoy causing him to loose balance and to tumble screaming down into the darkness, and for Felix, grabbing desperately at Mordecai, to loose his grip and plummet to the same fate.

Cold, something cold was on his neck. Cold and wet and very unpleasant. Stop it, I don't feel like swimming. Nickel eyes squinted open and looked up into the face of an ogre. Draco pushed himself back with the palms of his hands and sat up, since he was now lying on a white linoleum floor. Something smelled of formaldehyde and rubber, two smells that did not mix well. His nose got that familiar itch.

"What ha-ha-ha-choo!" He sneezed, very unmalfoy like, and as gracefully as a soggy Malfoy could manage, rose to his full height of six foot four and towered over the nurse he had mistaken for an ogre. She was old, wrinkly and had five very crooked and yellowish brown teeth jutting from black gums. How a woman like that ever got a job in a hospital, Draco would never know. Must be very rich or have a remarkable bedside manner. He doubted the second option since she was staring wide-eyed at Draco as if he had grown horns and a tail. Like she's never seen someone faint before.

She mumbled something in Arabic and he was only able to pick out a few useless words like "you" and "what." Draco shook his head impatiently.

"No speak Arabic. English." He overemphasized the last word, hoping she knew what he was saying and go get someone who spoke English. The woman nodded and smiled. Not something he would have advised her to do.

"Yes, English, very good." She pointed to him. "You…eh…good? Not ill?" Draco rolled his eyes. Oh yes, this would get him very far.

"I'm fine," I think, "I fainted." He pointed to his throat and made a motion with his hand symbolizing drinking. "Water?"

She just stared.

"Oh good God, you don't even understand simple hand gestures, do you? I bet I could say anything to you right now and it wouldn't make a lick of sense. Well, this woman whom I haven't seen in nearly ten has just confessed that she gave birth to my child! Almost ten years ago and she doesn't even bother writing! Not that it would have gotten to me, but it's the thought, isn't it? She lets me believe she had a child with another man! And here I am traipsing around Egypt to find the little bugger! Why?" Draco was yelling at the poor old woman who was backing away towards the door. Draco's eyes blazed like liquid fire, his mouth curling primly in rage.

"Because he's my SON! MY BLOODY SON!" The woman burst into gruesome tears and ran stumbling from the room.

"Right." That got rid of her now, didn't it? Draco took a breath and turned slowly to look at Ginny lying unconscious in the bed. My son…well that was something, wasn't it? He was a father. Without warning Draco's throat closed, eyes blurred and stumbling he thrust a hand forward to steady himself.

"I'm a bloody father." Saying it allowed was worse. How could he be a father? The only role model for fatherhood he ever had was the world's greatest bastard, how could he, Draco Malfoy be a father? He had to get out of there. Before Ginny awoke. It was best, for both of them. They both knew he would make a horrible father, he would only screw the kid up.

Draco gathered himself up, back straight, head high and smoothed his aquiline features into a slate of cold stone. Not looking at Ginny he turned and slid out of the room, not even bothering to close the door behind him. His shoes tapped the linoleum floor quickly as he unwittingly quickened his pace down the stark hallway.

The beast of a nurse Draco had made hysterical was cowering behind the reception desk clutching a paper cup full of a pink opaque liquid. Her eyes tightened when he approached as if she intended him bodily harm, but she didn't move. Only squinted in what she must have thought was a threatening manner. She obviously felt more secure with a desk and some large metal filing cabinets between them. Draco could not have cared less. He would be far away by the time she got up the courage to inflict him with whatever scenarios she was envisioning in her head.

Draco didn't even bother with the elevators, but sped down the dingy stairwell. He needed to be active. It didn't matter if the elevator was faster it felt too slow. He needed a real excuse for his heart to be pounding.