A/N: Twichild369: It's half because I didn't decide at what age he died at, and half because it's something left for the end of the story ;)

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"But Mummy," whined Draco. "I don't wanna have a bath," he said, sticking his nose up in the air as he folded his arms and scowled at Mother. I sighed. I was three years old at the time, and let me tell you, I was a terror when it came to bath time.

Now don't get me wrong. I was a perfectly angelic child. I listened to Mother and Father whenever they told me to eat my vegetables and not to throw my toys at house elves (though Father secretly turned a blind eye whenever Mother was not looking). But when it came to bath time… Heaven help you.

"Draco, darling," said Mother somewhat sternly. "You've been playing out all day with your broomstick, and you smell," she said. "Do you want to get Owly all muddy and dirty when you go to bed with him?" she said, holding up the stuffed owl. Draco's eyes widened with horror at the very thought. I held back a snort. As a three year old, my imagination at naming my stuffed animal was very limited. Owly the owl. Really…

I turned my attention back to Draco as he dove into the bathtub, disappearing under all the colorful bubbles floating on the surface of the water. I sighed, diving in after him, making sure he didn't accidentally drown himself. Draco opened his eyes under the water and settled on me. He smiled, waving at me. I waved back while at the same time monitoring the air left in his lungs.

As an angel, I soon discovered for myself, I had many abilities that were not possible for me to have as a wizard. I could see clouds of diseases pass by, and I had to make sure that Draco steered clear of them so as not to catch a frequent cold, or something as serious as dragon pox. I could literally see the aura that was given out with his each thought. Every bad dream accompanied a dark black substance that curled around him, every negative thought had a different color or substance that coiled around his body and soul; and yet every happy and joyful thought surrounded him with a golden light, glowing brightest around his heart. He usually had the glow around Mother. I truly loved her.

"Draco? Draco!" came Mother's frantic voice from above the water. I heard her plunge her arm inside the water worriedly, trying to feel for Draco. I nudged him towards her hand, watching with relief as her fingers closed around his arm and jerked him upwards and out of the water.

"Mummy, Mummy! I saw him again! I saw the funny man with the dress under the water!" he exclaimed as Mother fussed over him, making sure that he sat on the small ledge in the small pool of a tub. She clucked her tongue as she scrubbed his hair with shampoo.

"Draco, Daddy will get very cross with you if you continue telling these stories," she said, shaking her head at what she thought was Draco's imagination. I let out an annoyed sigh as I heard him describe me as the man with the dress. It was a toga, as I had told him countless of times. I had considered convincing him to refer to me as "the really hot guy", but then that would send alarm bells ringing in Mother's head. No mother would want their son to refer to a man as "hot". So I tried convincing him to keep quiet about my presence. Our little secret, I told him.

Of course, to a three year old, keeping a secret means telling anyone who would listen, the first person being his Mummy.

"But I saw him!" Draco insisted, splashing his hand in the water in protest. Unfortunately, that sent a blob of soapy foam to splash into his eye, and spent the remainder of the time crying from the sting in his eye from the soap.

"There we go," said Mother, lifting Draco up and out of the water, setting him on the floor and bundling him up in a furry green towel. She rubbed his head dry and led him into his room.

I loved coming into that room. It was my safe haven. I used to go there during my lifetime whenever I wanted to be alone, or whenever I felt sad, or send a letter to someone when I needed to talk to someone. Being in there again after so many years brought back so many memories. I drifted along the walls, looking at all the little crayon drawings Draco had made as Mother began dressing him.

Being an only child, he had no one to play with or talk to and interact with other than me. Mother was usually busy during the day, and Father was always running around doing errands here and there for the Ministry, and trying to keep out of trouble's way with all of his Dark or illegal artifacts lying around the Manor. Many a time I had to step in to steer little Draco away from harm's way as he unsuspectingly tottered towards a Dark object.

I smiled as I saw a picture that Draco drew of me and him. He drew me as a tall man, with (and I was glad to see) big muscles. Although he drew me with a dress, I had to admit I looked pretty good. He drew himself standing beside me, holding my hand. Mother had mistaken the drawing of me for her, thinking that Draco had drawn her in a wedding dress. I banged my head on the wall repeatedly when I heard her say that, although my head went right through the wall, so it was kind of pointless. Although it did make Draco go up in hysterics.

"Mummy?" I heard Draco's voice come from behind me.

"Hmm? Draco, stay still for a moment so I can put your pants on for you," Mother's voice replied. I heard some shuffling going around, and then silence. I remembered this happening very vaguely.

"What's a Mudblood?"

I heard Mother grow very still. "Who taught you that word?" she asked slowly. Draco looked up at her from where he was tucked into bed.

"I heard Daddy yelling at someone through the Floo yettserday," replied Draco.

"Yesterday," Mother corrected automatically. "Yesterday," Draco repeated. "I heard Daddy yelling at someone through the Floo yesterday, and Daddy sounded very, very cross. He also said a naughty word, so Daddy has to give me five Galleons."

Mother sighed, shaking her head. "Is it the word that we talked about the other day? The one that started with an F?" Draco nodded vigorously.

"We'll talk about Mudbloods later," said Mother after a moment of silence. "But it's a very, very bad word, Draco. I don't want to ever hear you say that word ever again. Otherwise Mummy will get very cross," she said. Draco nodded again.

"Now, go to sleep, young man. Don't forget," said Mother as she got up from his bedside. "Tomorrow you have a play date with Pansy." Draco gaped at her in dismay. "But, but, Mummy," he whined. "I don't want to play with Pansy. She's a girl," he said, sounding disgusted. "Girls have cooties," he stated in a matter-of-fact way. I snickered in the background, having taught him that. It was quite amusing.

"But Mummy's a girl," said Mother, holding back a smile. "Do I have cooties?"

Draco stared back at her in horror. "No, no, Mummy. You don't have cooties. You're differererent," he said, folding his arms.

"Different," corrected Mother. Draco repeated after her, frowning as he struggled not to repeat the extra er's. "Well, whether you want to or not, you have to go over to the Parkinson's tomorrow and play with Pansy. She's invited you to one of her tea parties. Maybe you can bring Owly," suggested Mother. Draco thought about that for a moment and then lay down in content. "Fine," he said, pulling the covers over his small body. Mother bent down and softly kissed his forehead, tucking Owly in with him. Draco giggled as her long fair hair fanned out and tickled his chin as she pulled away. I smiled as I saw the golden light surround his body, fading away to a soft glow on his forehead, the same spot that Mother had left the kiss.

Mother walked out of the room, turning on the small owl nightlight and leaving the door ajar. Draco sighed contently, snuggling under his covers. He turned around to check if I was there. I sat down next to him, pulling my feet up as I climbed under the covers with him. He curled into me, leaning into my arms as I draped them protectively over his tiny body.

"Mummy didn't give you a kiss," whispered Draco. I shook my head. "That's okay, Draco," I said. "Maybe Mummy didn't see me."

Draco frowned. "But how can you sleep without a kiss?" he asked. I shrugged, stretching my feet as I let out a fake yawn, feigning sleepiness. (As an angel, I had no need to sleep or eat; or any other necessity for that matter). "See?" I said. "It's easy as pie."

"How can something be as easy as pie? Pie is very hard to make, I saw Dobby make some yettserday," said Draco. "Yesterday," I corrected him, mimicking Mother. I let out a sigh. "It's a figure of speech," I explained.

"What's a figure of speech?"

"Go to sleep, Draco."

"But you never got your kiss," he repeated. I sighed again. "It's fine, little guy. See? I'm already asleep. Now you go sleep too," I said, closing my eyes. I felt Draco shift beside me and settle into a comfortable position. Just as I was about to open my eyes, I felt a pair of lips press themselves on my cheek, leaving a huge wet kiss. My eyes jolted open, and I saw Draco quickly shut his grey eyes and go to sleep. I couldn't help but smile at the small boy laying beside me.

"Draco?" Draco's voice came suddenly. I looked down and saw him staring at me.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"I love you," he said shyly. I smiled again. "Go to sleep, little guy. You have a play date with Pansy tomorrow," I winked. I saw Draco pull a face in the dim light and turn around, pressing his back against my chest and snuggle into the blankets. "Yuck, girls," he said, sticking his tongue out in disgust. I chuckled silently to myself. He wouldn't be having the same reaction a few years later.

"And Draco?" I said. "Yeah?"

"I love you too."

A/N: Well? What do you think? Comments make me happy, so please press that small yellow bubble and make me happy with a few words of encouragement? Pretty please? :D