Draco lay on his four poster bed, staring up towards the ceiling, taking in the dark mahogany wood that was the roof of his bed. He was thinking, but not happy thoughts. Happy thoughts refused to come at a time like this.

Whatever he had expected the Dark Lord to say was far from what actually happened. He didn't know how he was going to pull it off. Pretending to be Potter? The very thought made him want to throw up. He wanted to refuse, but of course with the Dark Lord that wasn't an option.

Draco sat up, rubbing his eyes. He was dead tired, but knew he couldn't go to sleep yet. He could be called at anytime, and needed to be awake when that happened.

Pulling back the dark green hangings around his bed, he surveyed his room, trying to distract himself. His eyes roamed from the Slytherin banner that hung on the wall, to the pictures frames on his dresser that held pictures of the Malfoy's whose smiles all looked forced.

Clothes were spread all over the floor, and his trunk was wide open, its contents mixed together in no particular order. Draco wasn't one for cleaning. He normally got the house elf to do that, but at the moment he just wanted to be alone.

Finally the sleep became too much to fight. Maybe it was the task at hand, or maybe it was the many sleepless nights that Draco experienced, worrying. His head fell back onto his pillow, and his eyes closed. Seconds later, sleep over took him.

He was standing in front of a battered looking house; it had to be at least five stories high, and looked as if each floor had been thrown carelessly onto the next. He remembered this place from somewhere, but he couldn't quite place it.

He was looking around, trying to remember, when the front door was thrown open and a plump woman with red hair ran out. She looked familiar to Draco, but before he could ponder this she had wrapped him in a bone crushing hug, effectively cutting off his air supply.

Draco was a taken back. Who was this woman?

"Harry! Harry, you made it! You're okay!" She cried, hugging him even tighter.

'Harry?' Draco thought. 'Is she talking to me?'

She held him out at arms length and looked him up and down. "You look a bit peckish, but we'll have to wait for the others." She said shakily. "Come inside, dear, come inside."

She walked away and back into the house, leaving Draco thoroughly confused. She had been talking to him. But his name was Draco, not Harry.

Then it finally dawned on him. He shakily looked down and nearly fell over in shock. He was shorter, and thinner. He felt his face and realized it wasn't his own. And then he noticed the glasses.

"No...I'm not him..." His hand moved to his forehead and he found what he was looking for. A scar. His body went cold and he fell to his knees, shaking all over. This wasn't true, couldn't be true...

There was a noise behind him, and he turned to come face to face with The Dark Lord.

"My l-lord?" He stammered, backing away.

"Harry Potter...I have been waiting too long for this day." He smiled evilly and Draco stumbled back even farther. "Prepare to beg for death. Crucio!"

Draco woke up quickly, screaming and slamming his head on the wall. Rubbing his injured skull, he tried to calm himself. He thought about the dream he just had. He knew who that woman was now. It was Weasley's mother. Draco remembered it from a newspaper clipping he had showed Weasley awhile back about how his blood traitor of a father had gone off to help Mad-eye Moody.

He remembered laughing at how fat Weasley's mother was.

He reached up and felt his face just to make sure it was his own. He let out a deep breath...it was just a dream. But he knew that soon, it would not be. The Dark Lord had looked so real. He shuddered at the memory.

There was a knock on door and his mother and father came inside. His mother ran forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, causing him to shake slightly. His father remained by the door, looking nervous.

"What did he say, Draco? What is he making you do? Did he hurt you?" She looked him up and down, as if checking for a cut or a bruise.

Still getting over the shock over his dream, Draco just shook his head.

"Draco we don't have time for this. Spit it out already." His father said, glancing at the door as though they weren't supposed to be there.

"I can't tell. He said not to." Draco mumbled, looking at the floor. He knew that if he looked at his parents he would crack and tell them everything.

"Just tell us, Draco. We want to help." Tears welled up in Narcissa's eyes. "Please."

Draco felt the tears in his own eyes, but refused to let them fall. "I can't, Mum. I don't want you to get hurt. He said I couldn't tell anyone...or else."

Narcissa looked as if she wanted to say more, but Lucius cut her off. "Narcissa, we must not let anyone find us here. We have to leave."

His mother leaned forward and wrapped him in a hug. "Promise me you'll be safe?" she whispered.

"I promise." He let the lie come forward, wanting to reassure his mother, but knowing it was more likely something would go horribly wrong.

She held him out in front of her, taking him in as though it would be the last time she ever saw him. Giving him a departing kiss, she turned and headed towards the door, which Lucius held open. She stopped in the door frame.

"I love you, Draco." And with these final words she walked through the door, and his father followed after, closing the door behind him.

Alone, Draco had nothing to do but fall back on his bed, desperately wishing he could have told his parents everything...