Harry very carefully dropped five, delicate lacewings that shimmered like a fire opal into his cauldron. He then picked up the crystal stirring rod that was used only for this part of the brew. Counting under his breath, "1... 2... 3..." he stirred the unremarkable looking, thin, bubbling potion. On the tenth stir, he carefully removed the crystal stirrer.

Severus stood next to Harry and leaned a little closer to take the fragile stirrer from his son's hand. He snatched it, gently away, before any of the potion could bead up and drip back into the cauldron. Severus automatically wiped the stirrer clean and then tucked it into a slim holder that was sunk into the marble surface.

The young boy's attention was distracted for just a moment from the dull looking potion as he watched his father lower the blue flame beneath the cauldron with a simple wave of his hand. Severus pointed at the cauldron, and his lips pursed together and thinned in warning.

"You don't want to miss the reaction to the lacewings," Severus spoke softly into his son's ear. "It's quite... magical." Harry's father smirked and Harry aimed his own contented and curious smirk at his potion.

The potion was a thin, runny liquid with a colour that was a dull brown. As the potion began to bubble up to a low boil the colour began to turn from a shimmery copper on up to a glittering, pale gold. It hadn't thickened so it was still very thin.

"When do we get to put the 'Hidden Beauty of Snow' into the potion, dad?"

"Your potion needs to simmer for twenty-four hours and then we will add the Spirit Ingredient." Severus cast a spell that would turn off the flame after the prescribed twenty-four hours.

While his father dealt with the remains of several ingredients (some of which could be salvaged for other potions) Harry carefully collected all his tools and took them over to the large sink where he began washing them the Muggle way. While washing, Harry's lips pursed tightly and his brow wrinkled into a frown. Blowing out a held breath, he spoke.

"Dad?" Harry turned slightly on the short stool he was standing on to reach the sink taps properly. "Is Draco going to be all right?"

Severus looked up from his cleaning with a look of concerned interest on his face. "In meeting his father?"

"Yeah. I mean, I know Mr. Malfoy doesn't have memories of Draco anymore and I think that might be kind of hard for Draco. Wouldn't it?"

Severus stood beside Harry and leaned over to wash his hands in the warm water. "It will be difficult, Harry, and I had advised Draco to wait until we were able to restore his father's memories, but he was adamant about seeing Lucius now." Hands clean, Severus began drying the instruments Harry had washed. He glanced quickly up towards the ceiling and wondered how the meeting between father and son was going.

Earlier that morning...

Draco had barely slept last night he was so nervous about meeting his father at Fairwinds today. He had tried on three outfits (two Muggle, one wizard) and they now lay on the floor as he tried on his last outfit. A pair of dark grey trousers, black polished boots, white shirt of silk, and a simple, black waistcoat. Behind him, on the bed of the guest room in the Granger house, were his robes. He hadn't put them on, yet, since he was too busy staring mournfully at his reflection in the mirror.

Hermione, somewhat breathless, burst into the guest bedroom. "Draco!" She stared at her betrothed as he continued to stare at himself in the full length mirror he had transfigured from one of his pillows. "You're not still worrying about your wardrobe, are you?"

He shrugged and the stricken look on his face had Hermione instantly concerned and listening intently. "I'm just... my father was always a stickler about tradition and proper form, Hermione. If I was still in my pyjamas, I had to have my dressing gown on, and my slippers. And, I was only allowed in a few places in the manor dressed that way. All other times I was expected to be dressed like a noble's son. All the house elfs dressed me." He grimaced at his reflection, his memory seeing an eleven year old Draco, haughty, snide, and full of himself. The memory faded away replaced with his present reflection and Hermione, standing behind him with her arms wrapped around him and her chin lightly upon Draco's shoulder.

Draco spun suddenly so that he was facing Hermione and he was mirroring her embrace, holding her close as his fingers got lost in the curls of her hair.

"Am I insisting upon this meeting too soon, My? He isn't going to remember me at all. He's not..."

"Shhh," Hermione cautioned as she pressed her lips lightly to his. "Stop questioning yourself, love. Just as he won't remember you, you've never met this Lucius Malfoy. You'll both be strangers." Hermione kissed Draco again, and then pulled back. "I'm going to Floo call Severus and ask him to have a Calming Potion ready for you."

Draco tried to smirk thinly. "He probably has quite a few on hand..." he hoped that was so because he was pretty sure that Lucius was as nervous as he was.

Severus met Draco as he stepped through the Floo and handed him the Calming Potion Hermione had requested minutes ago. Draco didn't hesitate and quickly drank down the potion. He then handed the empty phial back to his godfather and took several deep breaths.

"You don't have to do this, Dragon. Not if you're not ready," Severus soothed as he placed both hands on the tall, slim young man.

Draco nodded, feeling the Calming Potion soothing his nerves and calming his heartbeat towards a more normal beat. "I know, Uncle, but I feel that I really need to see him before his memories come back." He took another breath and gave his godfather as brave a smile he could muster.

"Come along then," said Severus as he turned the young wizard towards his study. He kept his hand at Draco's back as he escorted him into the spacious study where Lucius was sitting.

As both Malfoys set eyes upon each other, they froze in place. For a terribly long, and drawn out minute it felt to Severus like both men had stopped breathing. Thinking only to break this impasse, he gave Draco a slight nudge. Draco was startled, though, so his nerves turned a simple, single step, into an awkward stumble across the threshold. All pretense at confident dignity was gone as Draco tried to recover his equilibrium before he painfully met the floor. It was Lucius, though, leaping from the chair he was seated in, who caught the young man firmly in his arms.

Draco's hands automatically steadied himself by gripping the older wizard's forearms. It was when two pairs of silvery grey eyes met that a burst of glittering blue magic erupted between father and son.

Lucius felt himself falling, inexorably dropped from a great, dizzying height into a pool of opalescent wisps of memories. He glimpsed the familiar memory that haunted his dreams of himself holding his infant son as he paced agitatedly in front of the Potions master. He didn't remain long enough to hear the conversation between the two dream figures as he wasn't able to control where he was headed.

A different memory swept over Lucius. He realised at once that he was not a participant in this memory, but a spectator. It was very much like the way one would view pensieved memories.

As the memory coalesced around him like watery paint flowing down a tilted canvas, he wondered how he might escape and return to the safety of Severus' study.

The platform of 9 and three quarters at King's Cross Station came to life with steam expelling with a hiss from the red and gold Hogwarts Express. The platform itself teemed with dozens of children, and parents preparing to send their children off to a new year at Hogwarts.

"It's the day I left for my first year at Hogwarts." Lucius started slightly and was pleasantly surprised to see Draco beside him. His son pointed, "There we are. Near the end of the train."

In the blink of an eye, Lucius and Draco were near their memory counterparts. Eleven year old Draco had put on a brave, sneering face, but even through that expression the nervousness in his eyes betrayed the jitters that flitted about in his stomach. His father was not paying attention to his son at that moment as his sharp eyes scanned the milling crowd. His eyes suddenly narrowed as he caught sight of a dark haired child with the Weasley children. The boy had messy black hair, glasses that had been repaired with tape, and a large, bedazzled smile upon his face.

Lucius tapped his son's shoulder with his snake-headed cane startling the young child from his nerves. "Father?" Draco asked faintly, his eyes darting about at all the magical children. He had been a sheltered child, schooled at home, and only played with other children who had at least one parent that had been a Death Eater. All these children, shouting, laughing, and some crying as they left home for the first time was overwhelming for Draco. He stepped a little closer to his father.

The timidity in his son's voice caused Lucius to scowl down at his son. Only those who knew the aristocratic pure blood would be able to decipher the very faint shadow of concern in the wizard's gaze.

"Draco, remember what we spoke of last night," he reminded his son softly.

"Allies can be found in the least expected of places," he dutifully replied. "But father, what of the friends I have now? Aren't they enough?"

Lucius frowned in displeasure at the question. "How many times have I told you that none of those children are friends. They are... associates and you shall treat them as such." His frown shifted into a warning glower as a pout appeared on his son's face.

Present day Lucius turned to the slight young man beside him. "I didn't allow you to have friends?"

Draco nodded as he recalled that day at King's Cross Station. "Cultivating the right associates will provide you with the power needed to succeed in life." The words weren't his, but belonged to his father. They were words that he parroted, coldly.

Despite his worries, though, an impertinent side of the little boy rose up and he spoke carefully and with more bravery than he knew he had, "You're friends with Uncle Severus."

Lucius let out an exasperated sigh that he bit back sharply as he caught his son's chin with the head of his cane. "These are dangerous times, Draco, and there are many unscrupulous people who will desire a friendship with you when they only mean you harm. You cannot let down your guard."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek in order to hold back a whiny response that would only anger his father. This was so unfair and he was only eleven. He could see new friendships were being forged right before him on this platform and he was not allowed to be a part of that. He glanced up as his father's slim fingers gripped his shoulder firmly, but not painfully. It was the closest the elder Malfoy would ever come to showing affection for his only son in public.

The whistle of the train screeched loudly signaling that everyone must board, or miss the train. Draco gave his father one last pained look and then smiled. "I am a Malfoy, father. I'll make you proud." Without waiting for a reply, he boarded the train, disappearing within it.

Lucius lifted his chin and assumed the outward posture that let everyone around him know of his position in society, and that as a privileged pure blood, he deserved admiration and respect.

Draco felt like he was stumbling over the threshold all over again, but when he took a breath, he discovered that both Severus and Lucius were helping him to sit in a chair.

"...a memory," finished Lucius. He'd been explaining to Severus what had happened.

Severus ran a diagnostic over Draco. "A memory? Without the aid of a pensieve?"

Lucius nodded and sat down in the chair he'd occupied when Severus and Draco had arrived. His knees were feeling a bit wobbly. Severus conjured tea for both men and once he was assured that Draco was fine, he left the study, shutting the door behind him.

Draco really didn't feel like having tea, but he sipped it anyway as he waited for Lucius to say something first.

"First day at Hogwarts," Lucius finally spoke. "How did you fare?"

Draco shrugged, but then replied, "As was expected of me. I had Crabbe and Goyle as bodyguards, and in my first week there I mentally tabulated the weaknesses and strengths of everyone in Slytherin. As self declared Prince of Slytherin, I had no friends. As you cautioned."

Lucius caught the faint shadow of resentment that flitted across his son's features. He felt his heart tighten painfully. "Was I always such a bastard to you?"

"You were strict," Draco said slowly. "Sometimes a bit too strict, but you gave me a place to escape to that was safe." Putting down the teacup he reached into his shirt and withdrew the amulet he'd worn since the day his father had given it to him. For a moment he was hesitant about taking it off, but then he did so and handed it over to Lucius.

"I know now," began Draco softly, almost sounding apologetic, "that a lot of those kids I thought were friends, really weren't. Just as I was spying on them to get pertinent information about their parents, they were doing the same to me. I just wish..."

Lucius had been carefully examining the amulet, when he glanced up at his son's pause.

Draco lifted his eyes to peer directly at his father. "I wish you could have made me understand what was going on. I know I was probably too young for you to explain some things to me, but there were so many times I thought I'd failed you, when I know now, I hadn't."

Lucius winced at the pain in the young man's voice. Within that pain, he could hear the youngster he'd once been. He needed his memories. He needed to know, to understand what had once been between the two of them so he could fix it. Draco's eyes dropped to the amulet, and the elder wizard took that as a sign that his son didn't wish to speak further on that subject. Lucius gazed down, studiously, at the amulet.

No larger than a knut, it was fashioned from gold and copper that had been twisted together and then pressed into its round shape. Tiny runes decorated the edge. Lucius could tell that the amulet had been made by hand.

"A portkey?" inquired Lucius.

Draco nodded. "You made it for me. I think I was about six years old when you gave it to me. If I ever felt in danger, it would send me directly to the room Uncle Severus had in his quarters at Hogwarts for me."

Lucius handed the amulet back to his son. He didn't like the unvoiced implication that keeping his son safe also meant keeping his son safe from himself.

As Draco placed the amulet once more around his throat and tucked it beneath his shirt, his eyes shifted to the floor as he spoke softly, "Uncle Severus told me, often, that you were a man shouldering a horrible burden and that no matter your actions, you only wanted to assure my safety."

The older wizard leaned forward and gently tipped his son's gaze up and away from the floor. Lucius looked into those eyes that held a myriad of emotions. They glittered with the faint suggestion of tears, but these were tears Draco never allowed anyone to see. They were the unshed tears of a child who only desired the love of his father. The elder Malfoy felt his heart tighten painfully, again. He wanted his memories back, but he feared what they might mean for himself and his son. Perhaps it would be wiser to leave the past, he thought to himself.

Draco saw the fear of the past in his father's eyes and a panic gripped him tightly. Becoming the child he once was, he dropped his unfinished tea to the floor, scooted his chair back, and made a clumsy escape from the study. He paused uneasily in the living room and then darted towards the parlor.

Echo, who was reading quietly as she sat in the window seat in the parlor was startled from the world of her fiction book as Draco, near tears, ran into the cosy room warmed by the fire.

"Mum!" he blurted. In that simple word was all the emotion he worked so hard to keep under lock and key.

Echo dropped her book and opened her arms towards the anguished child. Feeling helpless, hurt, and lost, Draco fell into the comforting arms. He closed his eyes tightly. Only moments later a tall shadow fell into the room and Echo looked up sharply to see Lucius Malfoy framed in the doorway. With a simple glance, she indicated he ought to leave. With a clipped nod, Lucius turned away and left.

After several minutes, Echo conjured a cool, damp cloth and began to gently use it to cool Draco's face, then the back of his neck. Feeling utterly embarrassed at acting like a child, Draco shifted away from Echo when she vanished the cloth. His hands clasped tightly together, he stared down at his knees.

Tentatively Echo inquired, "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Her voice was soft, warm. Full of love. Completely the opposite of Narcissa's carefully modulated, and terribly icy tones. Draco drew in a breath and then lifted his chin. He shook his head.

"No, he didn't. He was very polite. It's just... it suddenly hit me that he doesn't remember me at all." He flopped back against the cushion and and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "I didn't think it would hurt this much."

"Dobby!" Echo summoned the elf. "Some hot chocolate for Draco, please and then, would you see to Lucius' needs?"

Dobby grinned widely. "Dobby is anticipating Missy Madame's request. Lucius Malfoy will soon have tea and scones." With a slight spin of his gangly frame, the little house elf popped away. Minutes later, the hot chocolate was brought and Draco was sipping the sweet brew gratefully.

Echo and Draco sat in companionable silence as Draco finished his drink. Once done, he banished the empty cup to the kitchen. "I could tell that he wants to remember me, but he's scared. I think he's afraid to recall those memories when..." his voice faltered as old memories of his father's anger, disapproval, and harsh words swept through his mind. "There were... bad times, but I was little and could run very fast. My father, unlike Crabbe or Goyle's dads, never used an Unforgivable on me. He never even hexed me!"

There were several minutes of heavy silence while Draco finished his chocolate. Once he was done, he banished the empty cup to the kitchen.

Echo watched the young man, and for the second time in so many minutes, she clearly saw the vulnerable child. His shoulders hunched, hands restlessly clasped, and his eyes darting about between the floor, his knees, and his shoes.

"Are you worried about what will happen after Lucius' gets his memories returned?" Echo placed a hand over Draco's worrying fingers.

"I am. A bit." He glanced up at Echo with a guilt-laden expression. Echo suddenly understood and Draco wondered if Severus had taught her Legilimancy.

"You're worried about losing Severus as your father," Echo surmised correctly.

Draco jumped up and paced, anger suffusing his body language and his voice. "Stupid, huh? I want my father back, flaws and all, but as soon as I saw you, I knew I was going to lose Severus. And, that's dumb. Isn't it?" His eyes pleaded mutely. "I mean, he has a son and... and..." Draco's cheeks blushed rosy pink as he dropped his gaze to Echo's belly.

Echo placed her hand over the small roundness that had just begun to show. She patted the chaise. "Come here. Come sit down, Draco."

Bowing his head sheepishly, Draco sat down beside Echo. She grasped his hands firmly and pinned him with her deep blue eyes. "You chose Severus and I as your parents when you denounced Narcissa and struck her from the Malfoy line. That was very powerful, old magic and no one can dismiss it. Lucius Malfoy is your father by blood and by everytime that he stood for you. Just because Fate has brought your blood father back to you does not mean that you have to turn your back on Severus, or me. Forever and always, you're a part of this family. You'll always be Harry's big brother, and..."

Echo paused. She thought for a moment about what she almost was going to tell the young man. Something she and Severus had spoken on Christmas night. Thinking that her husband would approve, she smiled.

"Severus and I spoke a few nights ago and... we would like for you and Hermione to be our child's godparents." As the request registered on Draco's face, Echo smiled brighter.

Draco was flummoxed, at first. He could barely register the myriad of emotions that flooded his heart. He allowed the grin he had inside to show on his face. He then gripped Echo's hands firmly, then gave her a brief hug. "Yes. Absolutely yes!" He hugged Echo again, then jumped up. "I need to tell Hermione. She'll be speechless."

Echo hated to burst his bubble, but she couldn't let him leave, yet. "Draco, do you wish to say goodbye to Lucius?"

Draco froze in the doorway of the parlor. He then shook his head. "I... I can't." He grimaced. "I know I'm probably being a coward..."

Echo rose and touched his forearm lightly. "It's understandable, Draco. I'll speak to Lucius. He did know to expect this, so don't worry."

Draco gave Echo a quick hug and then headed into the living room where he used the Floo to return to Hermione's parents home.

Lucius stomped heavily through the snow in the backyard making his own path. There were other paths, probably made by the large dog, Hector, or Harry, perhaps even Severus and Echo. He crossed a few of these paths, hoping that the chill weather would cool down his anger at himself.

He had hurt his son. Draco had easily seen the fear in his eyes at the memories between father and son that Lucius now knew weren't all sweet. He'd obviously not been a nice man...

Not nice, he scoffed inwardly, it's obvious I hit the child and more than once. My child... my son!

As he turned in his walk, he looked up and was caught by the sight of his son seated beside Echo in the parlor.

"He looks so lost... alone," he murmured into the wintry chill air. "I will be there for you, Draco. This I promise."

He thought back to the moment in the study when his and Draco's eyes had met, triggering the memory of taking Draco to King's Cross Station to catch the Hogwarts Express for the school, wash over him. The sights, sounds, even the smells ignited his senses. He was able to remember taking his son's small hand in his as some older students had run past, nearly knocking Draco from the platform. Draco had been excited, but a little fearful, too.

No matter how difficult it would be to face his past, Lucius would keep that memory, and the one of Draco as a baby, at the forefront of his mind. He was no longer doing this for himself, but for his son.