The journey from Fairwinds Estate (the Snape residence) to Flitwick Field was a short Apparation jaunt. Severus and Remus arrived on a gently canted hill that sloped down into the valley below them that housed the O'Gilvy Brothers Magical Circus. The big tent was up - obviously an Albus Dumbledore inspired monstrosity in garish yellow and green stripes. The big top was at the center of a seething community of circus performers and crew.

The circus, on the surface, appeared no different than Muggle circuses, and according to Remus' information on this one, they sometimes performed just for Muggles. However, their next three weeks the performers would entertain the wizarding community of Hogsmeade and any witch or wizard who traveled far to join the crowds within the big top.

The circus people were scrambling around, some in costume, some not, in preparation for their first show tomorrow in the early afternoon. No one seemed at all troubled by the snow upon the ground that was fast turning into mud where the circus had been set up.

Remus and Severus descended into the controlled chaos intent upon looking for someone in charge. Remus' information on the circus showed that the O'Gilvy Brothers had once been Sean and Orin O'Gilvy. The brothers had retired about four years ago and sold the circus. Just who the new owner was, Remus had not had time enough to discover.

As the two wizards walked amongst the colourful parade of circus folk, suspicious and wary gazes kept an eye on them.

Circus people, whether Muggle or Magical, are a tight knit community. They protect their own and all outsiders are viewed with distrust. With not a single person dressed in wizarding robes, Remus and Severus stuck out like sore thumbs. Each time they tried to approach someone, the person being advanced upon slid expertly away, his or her exit protected surreptitiously by their kind. After a half hour of such behavior, Severus was prepared to ignore Circus etiquette and shout for Lucius. His deliberate act of rudeness was thwarted by a young woman's voice. Only she did not address Severus, but Remus instead.

"Truly my eyes are deceiving me! Is that my friend, Remus Lupin?"

Both men turned to face the woman and Remus remembered the young woman at once. On a trip to a Muggle fair with Harry last year, Remus and Harry had met this enigmatic woman who was doing face painting. She went by the name of Journey Leeds.

Remus would have answered, but his eyes were caught by Journey's remarkable amber coloured eyes. Her dark blonde hair did not have any streaks of colour this time, but instead thin braids had been woven into her hair that trapped small feathers and beads. A sharp nudge from Severus' elbow shocked Remus out of his trance.

"Miss Leeds..." he began.

"Journey, if you would?" she smiled. "Now, please introduce me to your impatient friend."

Remus briefly hesitated, then introduced them. "Severus Snape, this is Journey Leeds. She is the young woman that painted Harry's face at the fair last year."

Severus bowed his head sharply and was rather taken aback when Journey gave him a slight curtsey in return. Severus was a stickler for the old fashioned wizarding etiquette. Such manners, these days, was seen more amongst the more priveleged of magical folk, or the elderly.

"I hadn't expected to see you in such a place as this," commented Remus looking at the circus people who watched beneath veiled eyes as the two wizards finally made contact.

"Autumn and Winter this circus is my home," smiled Journey as she spread her arms outward. "Muggle fairs are a welcome summer break from the business of a magical circus."

"Perhaps you can direct us to the owner, Miss Leeds?" asked Severus.

"That would be me, Mr. Snape." Her gaze flickered between the two wizards as an uncomfortable silence threatened to appear. "What brings you to my circus? Tickets for the big top show? Tokens for the games and rides?"

Severus produced the photo he'd cut from the Daily Prophet. He unfolded it and showed it to Journey; his index finger tapping upon the man hammering the tent sticks into the ground.

"We're looking for this man," said Severus.

Journey glanced down at the photograph and then returned her gaze to the Potions Master. "Who do you believe him to be?" Her question was blunt and there was a distinct air of challenge in it towards Severus.

Severus carefully kept his temper in check, but not soon enough to stop an irritated scowl from appearing on his face. He had no intention of giving her Lucius' name. Unfortunately, Remus, who was about as subtle as the Whomping Willow, disclosed nearly all in a single breath.

"We believe him to be Lucius Malfoy who is..."

"Lupin!" snarled Severus. Remus stopped speaking and for a moment he did not understand why the other wizard was angry with him. A sharp, darkened glance of Severus' depthless eyes and the werewolf realised his mistake.

Severus folded up the photograph. His voice was clipped as his annoyance with Remus crept through it. "I count him as a friend, Miss Leeds. I had thought him dead until I saw that photo this morning."

"We are..." Remus stopped as he received another warning glare from Severus. He let out a dramatic sigh, irritated himself, but with Severus.

"Would you at least speak to the gentleman on our behalf, Miss Leeds?" requested Severus with as much courtesy as he was able to muster.

Journey canted her head in acknowledgment. "If he is willing to speak to you, how are you to be reached?" asked the circus owner.

"Severus Snape at Fairwinds," Severus informed Journey. "I invite you to Floo call at any time."

There it seemed the conversation ended. Severus, and Remus, rather reluctantly, turned away. Journey was several steps away when she turned slightly and called out to the two wizards.

"Mr. Snape, before you go, how soon might trouble be arriving?"

As Severus deliberated the question, Journey walked back towards the two wizards, closing the gap between them.

Severus regarded Journey Leeds for nearly a minute without answering. He knew that she could very well send Lucius away instead of keeping him at the circus if he answered with the complete truth.

Journey spoke again when it seemed no answer to her question was forthcoming. "The circus has always held the reputation of harboring those penitents with questionable backgrounds. The wizard I know is not the one you know." Her amber eyes locked with the Potions Master's dark gaze. "If I asked you to forget him, would you trust that his future is with us and not you?"

Severus finally responded. His tone was polite, but firm. "I cannot do that because I know his past will catch up with him sooner than later. You are unable to protect him from that. Not while you're here."

Journey inclined her head a fraction. "Expect a Floo call from me this evening, Potions Master." With that, Severus was dismissed. Journey cast her gaze upon Remus and gave him a genteel smile. "We shall meet again, Remus." Her hand grazed his and then she turned away. Remus, once again under her spell watched Journey until she vanished into the crowd.

"Lupin! Are your intentions to join the circus?" Remus gave Severus a slightly puzzled glance. Severus sighed in exasperation. "We're leaving."

Remus returned to Grimmauld Place while Severus went on back home to Fairwinds. He was met by a very nervous godson.

"Uncle Severus?" Draco was wringing his hands.

"I was not able to see the man, Draco," Severus quickly soothed the younger man.

"Why not?" Draco demanded.

"Draco, allow me to see to my wife and to find out where my son is and then I shall tell you what I do know."

"Harry's up in the playroom," Draco enlightened his godfather. "Echo's in the parlor with Dobby."

Severus motioned for Draco to follow him as they went into the cosier parlor that Echo was favouring lately. As they entered they paused at the scene before them. Echo was stretched out on a blue velvet chaise. Sitting on the edge was a very patient house elf that was teaching Echo how to crochet.

"No, no, Missy Madame!" With his long fingers he began delicately moving her fingers to the proper positions. "Is to be keeping fingers like this. Hands is part of crocheting machine, Missy Madame."

Echo studied her fingers, the single crochet needle, and the pale lavender yarn she was working with. She performed a few stiches and grinned. Dobby clapped his hands together. The elf let out a squeak as he saw Severus and Draco standing in the doorway.

"Severus! Look at what Dobby's been teaching me!" She held up the small bit of crocheted yarn.

Severus sqinted at the bit of yarn. "Is that a tiny sock?"

"A bootie, dear. For the baby." She untangled her fingers from the yarn and the half formed bootie. "What happened at the circus?"

Severus removed his outer winter cloak and draped it on the clothes tree in the corner of the parlor. "Dobby, please bring Harry down from the playroom, would you?"

Dobby jumped to his feet. "Yes, Master Sir!" He vanished with a pop.

Severus sat down on the lounger by his wife's feet. Draco tried to hover nervously, but his godfather pointed him to an empty chair. Once he had seated himself, rather stiffly, he silently asked his godfather about the man who might be his father.

"Remus and I had no difficulty wandering around the circus grounds, but no one was inclined to speak with us. Just as we were about to head back home, we were greeted by the owner."

"One of the O'Gilvy brothers?" asked Draco.

Severus shook his head. "A young woman who appeared to know Remus. She works the Muggle fairs during spring and summer. Journey Leeds is her name."

"Why wouldn't she let you see my father?" there was a very faint whine to his voice.

Severus gave the young man a slightly annoyed glance. "Circus people are notorious for protecting their own. Theirs is a very insular life and they rarely, if ever, allow outsiders within their circle."

"Hi, dad. Am I in trouble?" asked Harry as he walked cautiously into the parlor.

Severus gave his son a mock scowl. "Have you caused trouble while I was gone?"

Harry shook his head. "I've been drawing." Harry settled himself beside his father. He whispered, "Can we do some more work on the surprise?"

Severus smirked and chuckled quietly. "It hasn't been quite 48 hours, yet, son."

"What surprise is this?" asked Echo, her curiosity piqued.

"Harry, you need to practice keeping silent about secrets," admonished Severus, tickling the boy's ribs with his long fingers. Harry giggled and slid away from his father and retreated over to his big brother.

Echo tried to stare down her husband so that he would reveal whatever the secret might be.

"Sorry, Beauty, but this concerns a project just between Harry and I." A glance towards his godson revealed that Harry was trying to soothe his big brother's worry by his presence, but it didn't appear to be working. "Draco. Why don't you give Hermione a call and see if she might like to come to dinner tonight?"

Draco nodded absently, then suddenly shook himself from his stupor. "Right! Good idea, Uncle Severus." Draco rose from his chair and left the parlor. Trailing behind him was his shadow: Harry.

Draco sat with Hermione's back to his chest on the loveseat that took center place in the circular, glassed in, small arboretum that sat the length of a slate stone walkway from the main house. As Draco spoke softly, he was idly plaiting his betrothed's curly hair.

"I just don't know if I should be happy or terrified that my father seems to have survived," Draco huffed slowly.

"You told me he never abused you," prompted Hermione.

"Not like Crabbe and Goyle were abused by their fathers. Vince's father used to actually use the Cruciatus Curse on him to get him to do homework. Now that man was a seriously disturbed individual." He paused for a moment and then began unraveling the braids in Hermione's hair. He was careful not to tug her hair. "My father liked shouting. He was so much taller than I when I was young and his voice would take on this timbre.. it was like a knife to one's vitals. And, to be honest, he did hit me sometimes."

"He knew it was wrong, though, didn't he, Draco? I mean, the portkey that he gave you?" Hermione shifted, making herself more comfortable.

"I always hoped that was what it meant. It wasn't as though there were lots of Death Eater stuff going on. Voldemort was nothing but ash as I grew up. Oh! And I was barely a year old when Voldemort was still spouting about Pureblood supremacy. Father would get into these moods, though, when any of the Death Eaters came to call. I learned quickly to just stay out of his way."

Hermione asked cautiously, "Did Lucius ever hurt any Muggles or Muggle-born?"

Draco shrugged. "Possibly, but I can't say for certain." Draco shifted, slouching a bit into the comfort of Hermione. "I think he did, though I'm pretty certain he didn't get some sick thrill out of it like Aunt Bella did." He shivered as he recalled the few times Bellatrix Lestrange came to Malfoy Manor. His father had always appeared to act carefully around the mad witch. "There was this one night I remember... I was just turned five..."

Draco Malfoy stirred uneasily from the down comfort of his large bed. He'd had another nightmare, but blessedly could remember none of it. What was left was the fear. At his tender age, he had learned quickly not to seek out his mother when he needed reassurance. A few, rare times, his father would be there for a soothing word, but Lucius never hugged his son. It would only weaken him.

Impy, Draco's nanny elf, watched over him and she went to his side to see what was wrong. Draco sniffed and wiped at his nose with his silk pyjama sleeve. Impy magically cleaned the soiled sleeve out of habit.

"I don't want you!" Draco sniffed again as tears trailed down his pale cheeks. The only person who really took time to comfort him from his nightmares was his godfather.

Before Impy could attempt to comfort her young charge, a shout reverberated through Malfoy Manor. Draco ducked under his covers, but only for a brief second. Curiosity got the better of him and pushing Impy away from himself, he padded, barefoot, out of his bedroom and down the long hallway whose floor was tiled with very cold white marble.

Draco stopped exactly where the walls ended and the ornate, carved railing that trailed down the grand staircase began. He could see his father, kneeling upon the cold, marble floor of the entryway. Lucius' usually perfect hair was matted with blood, and more blood stained the midnight black robe he wore. A silver mask had fallen near one of Lucius' hands. Draco grimaced as the coppery, offensive odour of the blood reached him.

Narcissa was standing within the narrow, tall doorway that was the entrance to the Malfoy Library. Her arms were leisurely crossed over her bosom and she looked upon her husband with a cold disdain.

"How fortunate for Abraxas that he's already passed beyond the Veil, Lucius. He'd be mortified at your tears," spat Narcissa.

Lucius flicked his wand and sent the silver mask hurtling towards his wife. "Wear it! You cold-hearted harridan! You and that vile sister of yours are a matched set!"

Narcissa gave a sniff and then turned, vanishing back into the library. The doors didn't slam shut, but shut slowly, and annoyingly silently.

For a moment Lucius remained on the floor. He shrugged out of his Death Eater robes and glared at the blood that had seeped through to tarnish his tailor made suit. Leaving behind robes and mask, he rose to his feet and took two steps at a time as he strode purposefully up the grand staircase.

Draco scrambled away from his hiding place and slipped behind one of the granite pillars that decorated the hallway. He was still small enough to back into the slight niche against the wall and thus hide effectively from his father. With his thumb in his mouth to aid in him staying quiet, Draco watched his father stomp down the hallway and to his bedroom. His door slammed shut so hard, that a bust of some long dead relative fell off its plinth and shattered.

Lucius' bedroom door whispered open and the Death Eater poked his wand out. "Reparo!" The bust repaired itself and resumed its place on the plinth, the door closed again but softly this time.

Draco didn't move for some time. He even tried to hold his breath, but that didn't work. Finally, he ventured forth from his hiding place. He knew he ought to go right back to bed and forget everything, but he couldn't. He was drawn to the door of his father's bedroom. He carefully placed his ear against the door and was astonished at what he could barely hear; Lucius was crying?

The little boy leaned a bit more against the door and was caught off guard when it slipped quickly open, depositing him in a tangle of arms and legs upon the plush, white carpet in his father's bedroom. Lucius' sobs stopped abruptly as he glared hotly down at his son.

"What are you...?" Lucius wasn't allowed to finish his scathing words. Draco, being posessed of rare bravery, neared his father and asked him if he was hurt. Lucius continued to glare at his son until he realised that Draco wasn't staring at him, but at the blood stains on his clothing.

"Daddy?" Draco was supposed to call his father 'Father', but he was terrified by the blood, and the bruises upon Lucius' face and hands, and the fact that moments ago his father had been weeping.

"Come here, Dragon," Lucius voice was hoarse and laced with an emotion Draco could not identify.

Draco stepped up to stand in front of his father. He yelped, expecting a scolding, but was startled as Lucius drew him tightly to his chest. After a moment, he carefully drew his son up and rested him on his lap.

At first, Draco was stunned by his father's embrace. Lucius Malfoy did not do hugs. Such affection was beneath the noble lord of Family Malfoy.

Draco, luxuriating in the gentle embrace of his father, curled up a bit more comfortably. His cheek was laid against Lucius' chest and he could hear its agitated beat.

Lucius held his son until Draco became so relaxed he fell asleep in his father's embrace. Draco never recalled how he had gotten into his bed when he woke the next morning, but he was certain his father had put him to bed.

Hermione ended the recollection when she turned slightly and reminded Draco, "Lucius tried to kill Harry. Over an elf."

Draco stiffened and Hermione instinctively pulled away. "Father could have cared less about Dobby. As house elfs went in my home, he was a useless thing. After that episode with the diary and the Chamber of Secrets, my father disappeared for two weeks. When he returned, he'd been so badly beaten that even my mother was sick at heart upon seeing him. She hovered by his bed that whole month he took to recover, but she never touched him."

Hermione took Draco's hand. "What could have happened? Do you know?"

Draco shook his head and then sighed. "I had no idea then, but now I am certain that he was punished by the other Death Eaters for failing their Master." He drew Hermione back into his embrace and kissed the crown of her head. Draco wrapped his arms around Hermione and buried his face in the clean smell of her soft hair.

"Do you think Professor Dumbledore is correct in believing that some of the Death Eaters were just family men protecting their wives and children?" asked Hermione.

"Having a philosophy of 'pureblood superiority' doesn't necessarily make a wizard or witch evil. Just prejudiced."

The young couple were both quiet for several long minutes as both were lost in thought. Finally, Hermione spoke, breaking the silence.

"Draco, are you really feeling terrified about your father possibly being alive?"

Draco didn't reply right away. When he finally did speak, it was slow and deliberate. "I made a mistake. In our fourth year." Draco suddenly stopped talking. Hermione could feel the increase of his heartbeats. She pulled away from him and turned to face him.

"What mistake?" she prompted.

"During the Tri-Wizard Tournament there was a lot of talk in the Slytherin dormitories about... about the Dark Lord. The seventh years were making it sound like being a Death Eater was the greatest thing to be."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "You asked to become a Death Eater?"

Draco nodded his head miserably. "To say that my father was angry is an understatement. He was absolutely furious. Uncle Severus summoned me to his quarters and my father was there.

A summons from his godfather wasn't unusual, but this term Draco was a little bit resentful over the fact that it hadn't occured more. Because of that, Draco really hadn't hurried down to the dungeons. He had come across Blaise Zabini and chatted with him for a bit before continuing his trek down to his godfather's quarters. He was about to touch the stone wall that hid the door to his godfather's home when the door flashed into being and he was suddenly staring up at a very perturbed Potions Master.

"Mr. Malfoy," Severus hissed darkly. "You are late by nearly thirty minutes. Was my note not clear enough?"

"I didn't think..." Draco began his excuse.

"It's becoming obvious to me that you rarely do think, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco was about to employ one of his many excuses when a voice from within his godfather's chambers sent ice trickling down his spine.

"Draco Lucien Malfoy!"

The young Slytherin wilted visibly. He looked up at his godfather, hoping to see a hint of sympathy, but there was none. Instead, Severus held up a parchment he recognised as the letter he sent most recently to his father. His Head of House's expression darkened considerably with evident disappointment. Severus merely stepped aside, allowing Draco to step within his godfather's quarters.

Lucius Malfoy, dressed in pale blue robes, looked like the formidable Boreas, the Greek god of Winter. His pale grey eyes stared down angrily at his son. At some point he had raised his snake headed cane threateningly. Draco stepped backwards uneasily, and trod on his godfather's foot. Severus caught the boy and squeezed his shoulders in assurance. He would not let Lucius strike him.

Lucius brought his cane down sharply upon the floor. Draco flinched at the cracking noise it made.

"Explain this foolish request, Draco!" snapped Lucius.

"Dormer, Grayson, and Lindlow... they were showing off their Marks..."

"Ah." Lucius voice clipped with sarcasm. "You would follow the seventh years as a sheep, would you?"

Draco swallowed drily as he knew that his father sarcastic guess was only too close to the truth. The draw of secrets, of power, of the cool tattoos that marked the Dark Lords Chosen... he had been drawn in by the spell of their tales.

"I thought that you'd want me to pledge myself, father," Draco said almost too softly.

Severus noted the very quick expression of pain in his old friend's eyes. It vanished quickly as Lucius stepped closer to his son.

"How many times have I told you that you must never follow another. Think for yourself, Draco!" He summoned the letter from Severus' hand. His eyes dropped to it, and he read an excerpt aloud, "...I should like to be like the other boys, father. I wish to be at your side before the Dark Lord when he returns..." Lucius suddenly crushed the parchment and threw it into the fireplace.

"You are a foolish. Little. Boy!" snarled Lucius as he advanced upon his son. "When have I ever intimated that I would pledge you to the Dark Lord?" The sharpness in Lucius' words made it seem that the elder Malfoy had not found his son worthy of such an honor.

"I... but... well..." Draco stammered. His cheeks reddened as he heard his own, lame, stutter. He felt suddenly ill.

"Answer me, you stupid whelp!" roared Lucius and Draco pressed back further against his godfather.

Severus crossed his arms gently, but firmly, over his godson. His dark eyes commanded Lucius to give him his attention. "The boy realises he made a mistake, Lucius. Like any child his age, he is easily influenced by his peers."

Lucius seethed with anger beneath the facade of appearing to listen solemnly to the black-clad wizard. Severus' deep, ebony eyes flashed with a dark flame that had the older man taking an instinctive, wary step back. His anger faded drastically and the charming expression that he often used when dealing with the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was present.

"Surely you can understand my anger, Severus. You, too, were angry as well when I showed you the letter," his voice held that honeyed tone that was a Siren's song to those who wanted someone to lead them, but Severus had long ago learned to Occlude against such manipulation.

Severus glowered and resisted the urge to push Draco behind him. His wand hand twitched and Lucius paled. Although Severus still had his arms crossed protectively over his son's chest, Lucius had seen this look before; in battle. The suspicion that Severus was skilled at wandless, silent magic, a rumour many of the Death Eaters whispered about, caused Lucius to clamp down upon his anger towards his son.

A slight ripple of change flowed over Lucius Malfoy as he put his anger in check and returned his bearing from angered father, to the smooth aristocrat that he was in public. Glancing momentarily away from Severus, Lucius straightened his robes, and then allowed his eyes to drift over his son and back to the Potions Master.

"I entrust my son to you, Severus," Lucius spoke coolly, almost as though his words were an afterthought. He brushed past, not sparing a glance at his son.

Draco was not going to let his father go that easily. He knew he'd been wrong to ask to be pledged to the Dark Lord; his father's anger was proof of that. He had thought his father would approve. As usual, he was caught in a miasma of confusion. Adult things were being exchanged, innuendo, cryptic words. He suddenly wrenched away from his godfather's restraint and caught his father by his sleeve.

Lucius spun tightly around, and was about to lash out, but Draco spoke first. "I just want you to be proud of me, father."

Draco was certain the back-handed slap was going to show up. He didn't want to get hit, but he felt that this time he should not back down so meekly as he usually did. He tried not to flinch, as he saw in slow motion, his father's hand stretch out towards him. Instead of the expected blow, Lucius tenderly cupped his son's cheek in his cool hand.

"If you pay heed to your uncle's counsel, Dragon," Lucius spoke very softly. It seemed as though the elder Malfoy might say more, but he didn't. His hand lingered a moment longer, and then Lucius was vanishing through the door and into the dungeons of Hogwarts.

"That was the last time I ever saw my father," Draco sighed sadly.

"It sounds as though his heart wasn't as black as many believe," commented Hermione gently. "At least, not where you were concerned."

"Uncle Severus used to tell me that my father was a much kinder person during his years at Hogwarts. He used to tell me that if he'd met my father after he'd taken the Mark, he'd never have struck up a friendship with my godfather."

Draco rose from the chaise and walked over to one of the glass sides of the arboretum. The sun was setting, turning all the new fallen snow into a rainbow of fiery reflection. He leaned back slightly as Hermione slipped her arms about his waist and pressed her cheek against his back.

"Lucius Malfoy was not a good man, Hermione," Draco spoke through a soft sigh. "I know he hurt a lot of good people. He probably even m-m-m-murdered..." Draco leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the arboretum.

Hermione gave her beloved a squeeze. He turned in her arms, draping his own over the Gryffindor girl's shoulders. He gave her a quick kiss and then drew her close against him. Draco smiled as Hermione's head tucked neatly beneath his chin.

Echo and Harry were in the parlor playing chess near the fireplace. Severus was futilely reading the latest issue of The Apothecarian. Every few minutes he would pinch the bridge of his nose and would re-read the last paragraph. He had no idea what the article was about, but it had kept him from glancing over at the Floo every five minutes.

The mutterings of Echo's chess piece, the King, drew Severus away from the ineffectual reading of his periodical. He tossed it onto the coffee table, rose to his feet and walked over to see who was winning.

At just that moment, the flames in the fireplace whooshed into the familiar green color. Instead of the expected head of the circus owner, a heavy piece of folded parchment was spat out through the flames and onto the hearth.

Severus moved over to the hearth and picked up the message. Without moving away from the fire, he opened the letter and glanced at the penmanship. Lucius' penmanship had always been flawless. His letters were tiny and precise, except where it would deviate to grand spectacle of flourishes and loops. This handwriting was neat, not quite precise, and there was an inexplicable ink blotch that had dried with the imprint of a small, human, palm.

Finally ignoring the mystery of the handwriting, he began to read the letter aloud:

Master Snape,

I feel an immediate trust as I write your name and that worries me. I know that I am wanted by the law for crimes committed during the war. Despite this, my instinct forces me to trust you. I would be pleased to meet you, on the Muggle side of London, at Grey Oaks Pub tomorrow, at noon.

Sincerely,

L.

Severus frowned. "L?"

Harry interrupted his father's thoughts. "Can I go to London with you, dad?"

"Not tomorrow, Harry. This is important business and there could be a possibility you might get hurt." Severus spoke so blithely, that he didn't immediately pick up on his son's fear.

"Dad!" Harry had been calling for his father twice before his worried shout got through. Severus turned to look down upon his son who quickly wrapped himself around his father like the giant squid wrapped around its prey.

"Please don't go someplace dangerous," pleaded Harry.

Severus' ruffled his son's silky, black hair. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have said that. I'll be fine, I promise."

Harry nervously curled his fist into his father's dressing gown. His voice was soft with trepidation, "But, dad... everyone says Draco's father was a dangerous man. That he wasn't nice and even..." his voice dropped lower, "...killed people."

Severus sighed inwardly. This would not be an easy concern to answer. Sitting down, he gently pulled his son close until Harry was leaning against his father's legs.

"Not every Death Eater was evil, Harry. When Lucius Malfoy became a Death Eater, it was by his own father's will that he was given the Mark. All Lucius had ever wanted was to run his father's empire, to add to it, and to have a family. Voldemort turned him into a slave and nearly destroyed all that Lucius hoped to have."

Severus paused as he watched his young son frowning in thought. He didn't think Harry would really understand and so he was rather impressed when his son spoke slowly.

"Sooo you're saying that Draco's father had to do bad things or Voldy-mort would kill Draco?" He lifted his face to see if he were right.

Severus smiled. "You are a very intelligent child, Harry. That's it exactly."

"He's in trouble, then, isn't he, dad? The Aurors are only going to see him as someone bad and he'll get the Dementor's Kiss. That will make Draco cry, I think."

Harry's brow beetled in consternation and he chewed his thumb. Severus gently removed Harry's thumb from his mouth and then lifted his son into his lap.

"I promise you, Harry, we will do everything we can for Lucius Malfoy." Severus kissed Harry's brow and then scooted the child off his lap. "Time to get ready for bed, my boy." Harry gave his mother a kiss on her cheek, and he gave his father a quick hug. Just as he was starting up the stairs, his father warned, "This time put toothpaste on your toothbrush!"

"Yes, sir, dad!"

"Severus," Echo spoke as she stared down at the letter from "L". "The way he writes... it's as if he doesn't have any memory of you."

"I had thought that as well. According to Alastor Moody, Lucius was the victim of several stray spells before he caught the wizard in a Binding Spell," Severus explained. "It's quite possible that one of the spells messed up his memory. I'll know tomorrow."