Disclosure: The characters started from the dreams of JK Rowling. Now they play around in mine.
The hallway was dark. A pale white light blinked from the ceiling on the far end casting shadows to flicker on the walls and move in mysterious ways. One tall, dark shadow moved silently from one end of the hall to the other. To the workers who sat behind the desk, it appeared as nothing more than a trick of light, but to someone who knew about the creatures who went bump in the night, the shadow seemed to take an almost human form.
The shadow seemed to hover outside the doorway at the very end of the hall. A dark plaque hung next to the door. The folders and paperwork of the caretakers where held in a bin beneath the plaque, yet the paperwork was so thick, it covered all but the S, the letter beginning the name of the person to whom the room belonged.
Silently the door to the room swung open the tiniest bit, just enough to let the shadow slip inside. A lamp showed from the bedside table. As the shadow moved forward, into the light, it took on the shape of a tall, thin man. This man had a large hooked nose and long black hair. His black eyes, normally devoid of any emotion, softened as he took in the site before him.
On the bed lay a sleeping woman. Her long dark hair fell in soft waves around her face and shoulders. It was peppered with streaks of gray at the temples. Her own hooked nose was centered in a face the color of pale snow. Small wrinkles formed at the edges of her eyes and corners of her lips, which were parted in a soft smile, as though she where dreaming of someone she loved.
The man looked at the bedside table, which held the lamp, and took note of the items that decorated it. A small, thin stick lay along side a well cared for, but very old book, Mythical Beings and Magical Mysteries, along with two pictures. One picture was of the woman, taken when she was much younger. She was in a bed, a small, dark haired boy cuddled next to her. She was reading a passage from the very book that lay next to the picture. The boy, no more than a few years old, stared at her, entranced. A man stood smiling over them, watching the scene with tender eyes. The other picture, also several years old, was of the boy as well. He was older, a teenager, and he appeared sullen and grumpy, and as though he would have wished to have been anywhere else at that moment. He was wearing long green robes, like a graduation gown of sorts and his hair hung in lank locks in front of his eyes. It was easy to see that the boy, the teenager and the man standing at the end of the bed, where one and the same.
"Mother," he whispered softly, taking a seat, being careful not to jar her. "Mother… Mum, I'm here. Your boy is here."
The woman blinked, as she came awake, "Se…" she started to say her eyes clouding in confusion. However, he was glad to see that the confusion quickly wore away, to be replaced with awareness. It had been a very long time since the clouds had left his mother's eyes.
"Yes, mum, it's me. I've come to see you. I've done something mum, something that I had no choice but to do. They will be coming for me soon. I have to go into hiding. They are going to tell you I did something horrible, a crime beyond all other crimes. And they will be telling the truth." He hung his head in shame.
"Son, tell me what you have done. Nothing can be that bad," his mother said, as she drew her hand up to softly tuck a wayward strand of hair behind his ear.
The man looked at her with such pain shining in his coal eyes, that the woman's heart broke. She said nothing, but drew in a harsh breath as he confided, "I have taken another's life. I have killed another human being."
She drew him into her arms as his silent sobs broke forth. Murmuring soft words of comfort, she said, "Tell me."
"I had no choice. The man was going to die. Either by my hand, or by the hand of another, a mere child, naught but a boy. He was being forced into this action by another, more powerful than us all. I could not stand by and watch this boy be turned into a murderer. I could not allow the boy's soul to be damaged so."
"I am sure you did what had to be done, son." She whispered, holding his hand.
"I had no choice. There where others around. I had no way of talking the boy out of it. We both would have been killed if I had tried. He was an old man. I cared for him, almost like a father. He had believed in me. For a moment, before I took his life, I hated him. I hated that old codger for putting me in that position. To cause me to look a traitor to everyone when I have worked so hard to show everyone I have changed and then to also have to choose between my soul and the child's."
"And now?" she questioned.
"And now, we are both on the run. I could not allow the boy to stay behind. He would have been deemed a traitor, and sent away to rot in a cell. I could have taken the torture. I could have easily turned myself in, to receive the punishment for my crime, but I could not have allowed that innocent boy to be punished for something of which he had no control. Nor could I allow him to stay with the others, under the power of that awful man. His soul would have been destroyed in a fortnight if I did. So now, we have no one to turn to, no one who is on our side. I must hide, and take the boy with me. I am going back home. I have placed protection around the grounds, mum. Only you know where I will be. You are my secret keeper. You must keep my secret, mum, as my life and the life of the boy, depend upon it. Promise me."
"I promise son, I will tell no one," she said solemnly, her hand entwined with his, as she stared into his eyes.
"In time, you may tell, but only one person. A boy will come looking for me. He bares the scar. He will be the only one who can save me. However, he does not yet believe in the truth. He believes I killed the man for other reasons. He believes I am on the side of the other's; he believes me a traitor. Do not tell him when he first comes. I know this boy, he will not give up looking for me. He will visit you often. You will know when he is ready to hear the truth. Tell him only then, mum."
"I promise, my dear boy. I promise."
"Remember mum, no matter what other's tell of me, that tonight, I have told you the truth. You will hear cruel things said about me, most will be lies, but there will also be some truth to what is said. I have not been the best son. I have done some very wrong things. But I have tried these past years to make them better. I have tried to right my wrongs. I promise I have tried to be a son who could make you proud, to be a son you could love. I am so sorry, mum. I am so sorry." His shoulders shook, as tears fell onto their entwined hands.
"Son, I trust you, and I believe in you. I will always and have always loved you, even when you have done wrong. I know that you did not want to do what has been forced upon you, but I also know you will make it right. I will always love you, and I am proud that you are my son. Your father would be proud of the man you have become."
She drew her hand from his, and gently cupped his head in her hands. Pulling him towards her she placed a gentle kiss upon his brow. "Now, go. Quickly, before those who are searching for you arrive."
With a last hug, and a kiss upon his mother's cheek, the tall man stepped to the door. As the door opened quietly, he slipped into the darkness of the shadows. He made his way from the hall, down the stairs and outside of the building.
He crept into the alleyway and peered into the depths of the night. Behind a trash bin, a young man appeared. His once pale hair was now streaked with dirt and soot, so it would not gleam in the moonlight. Tear marks trailed upon his cheeks, leaving muddy tracks from his wide, silver eyes. "I thought you had left me here." He, like the man, had changed his clothes for less noticeable clothing. They both had exchanged their normally fine clothing made of silk and fine fabric for worn jeans, patched shirts, and second hand coats they had located in a charity bin.
"I promised you I would look after you. I do not break a vow. Now, hurry, we must get as far away from here as possible. Everyone will be looking for us."
He placed a hand upon the boy's shoulder, in an effort of comfort. Together, they set off down the alleyway, onto one side street, and then the next, until they had walked a maze through the deepest part of the city. As dawn began to creep into the sky, they made their way from the city into the suburbs. By the time the sun had edged the night past the horizon, they had made it to a seldom-traveled dirt road, which ran it's way through the countryside. Onward they walked, not stopping to rest, only leaving the road when a truck or car rambled past where they had taken refuge, as not to be seen.
At noon, the man pulled a bundle from a small bag he had carried under his jacket. He removed a biscuit and some dried beef and handed it to the youth. He also took out a bottle of water. They ate in silence as they walked, passing the water bottle between themselves.
Another hour passed and then two more before the boy asked, "Where are we going?"
"You'll see when we get there. It won't be long now."
For some time now, the teenager had been able to smell the sea on the air. He knew they where somewhere near water. The landside had begun to rise and fall in gentle hills. The boy had grown tired of walking, used to being given his own way, his fear had kept him silent until now. " I'm tired. Can't we stop for just a moment?" he whined.
"Only if you wish to be caught. Now get a move on. We are almost there."
After another short stretch they reached the end of the road as they finally came upon the seashore. The road simply vanished into the water. The man continued upon the road, until it turned into the water. He stopped for just a moment, looking out into the water, at an island just visible at the horizon. He quickly bent and started to take off his shoes and socks and rolled up his pants legs to his knees.
"Come on now. Hurry up." He motioned at the boy, who hastened to remove his shoes and socks and to roll his own pants, though he did not know why he needed to remove his shoes. The water appeared cold and murky and he had no desire to go wading along the beach.
"Follow me and stay right behind me. You don't want to fall off of the path." He then placed one foot into the water and began to carefully walk into the water. The boy stepped into the indention left by the man's steps, and found the water curiously warm. It gently lapped at his feet. As they walked on, he was surprised to find that they did not sink into the depths of the sea. Looking around him, the water seemed to be very deep and full of murky currents, yet walking behind the man, the path they took never lowered below mid calf.
Within minutes they had traveled the length of the path and had reached the shoreline of the island. The man led the boy into the thick lining of trees beyond the beach. Following a path through the dense growth of trees, the pair travailed for several meters, before the trees began to clear. The boy looked beyond the man, who had stopped suddenly in the path and gazed open mouthed at the scenery before him.
Across a very large clearing, was a large stone cliff. A small waterfall gently fell from the top of the jagged rock top above and pooled into a small pond below, which ran into a beautiful, gurgling brook that coursed it's way through the clearing. Near the base of the cliff, to one side of the pond was a small cottage. The back of the cottage appeared to be built directly into the cliff. A garden, overflowing with produce, grew on the other side of the small house. A few feet from the garden were a small shed, and a barn, also built into the cliff. Outside the barn, a paddock contained a few mewling sheep and a young milk cow and her calf. Chickens scattered about in the yard, pecking at the ground, as kittens attempted to catch tadpoles in the shallow pools of the pond.
"Professor" the boy started, in wonderment, as he looked up at the older man. "What is this place?"
"You may as well call me Severus, Draco," the older man informed him.With a smile, the first genuine smile he had made in many years, he spread his arms out and motioned in front of him, "Welcome, Draco, to Dragon's Lair, welcome to my home."