Draco Malfoy's Famous Last Words

DRACO'S P.O.V.

It arrive at the Lecates' residence in the middle of the night. The moon is my only source of light. The entire street is foggy and deathly silent, a perfect atmosphere for my mission.

I'm not sure exactly where to go, or even what I wantto do. Honestly, I'm not too keen on the idea of killing these pathetic people. I guess I'll try to avoid that at all costs. However, if the necessary situations arrive, I will not hesitate.

Unforturnately, I don't know which room to look in. My instructions from the Dark Lord were nothing, if not vague. I decide it would be logical to just start on top, where most bedrooms in these hovels are located, and work my way down.

Call it my parental intuition, but as I get closer to the house, I figure out what room my son is in. It has to be the one with the Quidditch themed curtains. Surely no adult wizard would have such hideously childish decor. But then again, these aren't proper wizards that I am dealing with.

Focusing hard on the other side of the window sill, I skillfully apparate into the room. Luckily, my guess is correct. The room is entirely adorned in Quidditch decor. Everything thing from the curtains, to the wallpaper, to the mobile is Quidditch. The Chudley Cannons, to be exact.

Evelyn would throw a fit if she could see this. She is, after all, a die hard Kenmare Krestels fan. I smile as I thinkback to the day last summer when we played 3-on-3 at the Manor. She looked so sexy in her Krestel's jersey, her hair all tousled by the wind. I was so pissed when Goyle hit her with the bludger. He's lucky I only punched him.

The rest of the room is like any other nursery. It has a rocking chair, changing table, toy bin, and most importantly, a crib.

Slowly, I avoid the mess of toys and clothing littered across the floor, and make my way to the crib. I lean over and stare down at a peacefully sleeping, baby boy.

There is no doubt in the world that he belongs to me.

His hair is thin; and so white-blonde that I can hardly see it in the golden glow of his snitch night-light. I leane down and kiss his forehead. To my surprise, his eyes flutter open. He is a light sleeper, just like Evelyn.

Those eyes. They are the mirror image of his mother's. They are the deepest shade of green imaginable. They appear to be so deep, they soak in every ounce of me in a single glance.

Tears begin streaming down my face. My son extends an arm towards me, and I pick him up. I cradle him in my arms and pull him close to me. He is barely the size of a loaf of bread, but he's here. I am finally reunited with my son. If only Evelyn could be here, too.

The tears keep falling steadily from my icy blue eyes. Most people think I'm completely incapable of loving. Sure, I do hate most people. But the ones I do love, I love with my entire being.

I lay my child back in his crib and wrap him tightly in his blanket. It takes all my strength to leave him behind in his room, but I have to for the time being.

With much ease, I creep down the hallway and find the room that belongs to his "parents". I crack open their door and perform the necessary amount of memory modification spells.

They won't know a thing is wrong when they awaken in the morning.

I quietly tip-toe my way back to the nursery. I cross the room as quickly and silently as possible. Every slight noise I made sounds like a colossal boom to me. My paranoia is unnecessary, as I know my magic will keep the filth from ever discovering the truth, but I can't help but be cautious.

I reach the crib after what seems like an eternity of separation. Carefully, I pick my son up again. He coos softly, and then closes his eyes in contentment.

"Hold on," I whisper.

Then, focusing hard on the Manor, I apparate to my bedroom.

Finally, my son is home; to stay.