Chapter 2: The Dragons' Lairs

Draco woke up to a room artificially darkened by heavy curtains. For a moment, he just lay there in bed, staring up at the velvet canopy of his enormous four-poster bed that could easily have accommodated a small family. He could lie there forever (well, at least until his charms tutor came) and nobody would bother to call for him. With an inward sigh, he pushed back the smooth silk covers, his paleness blending with the cream of his satin sheets. The carpet was cool under his bare feet. He changed into a thick robe, something in a deep shade of blue or green—or maybe something black, it was hard to tell—like everything else in his wardrobe. The Manor could be cold, though now made almost bearable by the sticky humidity of summer, set somewhere unplottable in a deserted moor where no muggles would be foolhardy enough to venture near.

His room was neat, flawlessly so—everything in its place, much like what a guest room or a display room might look like, something you couldn't put your finger on missing from the luxurious fittings and intricately designed furnishing. The only thing out of place was Kera's brief thank-you note lying open on his desk, only the third letter he'd received from her. It was tempting to believe that all she'd said about being friends had been mere lies, even though he knew she'd shown more trust in him than he deserved.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Delicate aristocratic features framed by hair so pale it was almost white. Eyes like pools of cold silver.

"Perfect." His mirror purred.

He'd been terrified of walking down the maze-like hallways when he was younger, feeling the gaze of the pictures on his back, portraits of ancestors long dead watching him as he held his head high and fought the un-Malfoy-like urge to run, each one rich, powerful, and deeply involved in the Dark Arts. Portraits of law-abiding muggle-loving wizards didn't make the hallways of Malfoy Manor.

Now he strolled through them indifferently, turning a corner towards the soft clink of silverware.

The Dining Room was huge and decorated liberally with expensive-looking tapestries and delicate silver candelabras, obviously intended to impress guests. Other than that it was mostly empty save a long table for at least twenty in the middle of the room. Narcissa Malfoy was seated at one end of the table, and another place had been set at the other end for Draco.

"Good morning Mother."

Narcissa acknowledged his presence with a brief nod, not looking up from her meal.

Draco took his place and began to eat, putting the food in his mouth, chewing, swallowing, just doing what he was expected to do, not really tasting what he was eating and not really caring. Mother and son ate in silence.

"Remember to get the house-elves to iron your new robes for your birthday dinner tomorrow." She said, rising from the table.

"Yes Mother." Draco replied dully to the empty room.

Every year his parents would invite all the respectable pure-blood children to his birthday party, a circle of friends chosen for him from like-minded families like the Notts and the Parkinsons. And every year Draco would be forced to be reasonably cordial to them while they fawned over him and tried to get in his favour, the way their parents grovelled to his father.

The front doors open with a bang that resounded through the whole Manor, and Draco felt the tendrils of fear begin to creep through his veins. He knew Father had been Summoned alone last night, since the Lestranges and Macnairs had been with them for dinner and not felt a thing. And if there was something that could put him in an even worse mood then facing the Dark Lord's wrath and having a failure like him for a son, it was being embarrassed in front of his guests.

Sure enough, Lucius Malfoy stormed into the dining room moments later, sending one of house-elves who usually followed him around skidding across the floor on its face and fleeing into the kitchen.

"In my study. Now." He snapped, without so much as a glance at his son.

Suddenly regretting eating any of his breakfast at all, Draco got out of his seat with as much composure as he could muster and followed in his father's wake down the darkened hallways, his heart pounding furiously, dreading what his father would do to him. All around him the portraits scowled at him, hissing disapprovingly.

Draco was seldom allowed into his father's study, although right now he'd rather not be here at all. His father talked business with his fellow Death Eaters in here, and occasionally he would have some strange guests who were always carefully hooded and masked. Draco also knew that the key to the room under the drawing room floor lay somewhere in the many secret drawers of the polished mahogany desk in front of him, probably protected by all kinds of hexes and curses. The walls were lined with shelves of books Draco was forbidden to touch—books with tattered and peeling covers, books which seemed to whisper faintly in strange tongues that sent shivers down his spine.

Draco tried not to jump when the door slammed behind him.

He stood still and at attention as Lucius began circling him slowly like a predator observing its prey.

"The Dark Lord was most...displeased."

Draco gave an involuntary shudder. Lucius leant in until he could feel his breath on the back on his neck.

"What were you thinking?" Lucius spat, his voice soft and dangerous.

Draco winced as though his father had shouted right into his ear.

"Is it about that Granger mudblood again?"

Draco looked up in surprise.

"Do you think I don't know?" The senior Malfoy said, mistaking the reason for Draco's surprise. "Young Miss Parkinson took the liberty of informing me."

Draco tried hard not to show his relief. He didn't know how much he dared to tell his father, but it would be generally safer to put the blame of his actions on something as trivial as gaining some girl's attention. And maybe it had partly been about impressing Granger.

"It's not about her." Draco replied quickly, reflecting that it would be suicidal to let his father know he was really interested a mudblood.

At this admission, Lucius thumped his cane so hard on the floor Draco was sure he had dented the marble through the carpet.

"You're going to turn out like your precious Professor Snape before you know it," Lucius hissed angrily.

"I'm sorry, Father." Draco said softly, keeping his gaze on the floor. This show of submission seemed to calm Lucius down a bit.

"And which other mudblood has bewitched you so much that you dare to go against the wishes of the Dark Lord?" Lucius sneered.

"She's pure-blood," Draco said. That was partly true, at least. "Her name is Kera Ladon."

"Did you just say Ladon?"

At that sudden change of tone, Draco looked up at his father. On that pale pointed face so much like his own, he saw the hint of a smile. A cruel, calculating smile.

*~*~~*~**~*~*~~*

Kera drew her robes around her, her breath condensing into clouds, even if it was summer. She made her way down the dark stone steps, the enchanted torches giving off an eerie, cold green light. Enchanted torches that absorbed heat, because he claimed heat from changing seasons might affect some of the more sensitive potions he was brewing. Why Severus insisted on staying in the freezing dungeons even in the dead of winter was beyond her house-elves, but it was not lost on her. Kera walked quickly towards the end of the dark corridor to stop in front of a heavy oak door. She raised her hand to knock, but the door just swung open on its own accord.

A small cauldron was simmering gently in his fireplace, giving off a pungent odour. Severus was staring into its flickering flames. Behind him, the Spartan furnishings—or what could pass off as furnishings—reflected a man who was trying to atone for some unspeakable evil.

"You are supposed to be resting." He said without looking up.

"Dinner will be ready soon." Ordinarily this would have been a job for the house-elves, but Severus didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"I have things that need attending to." Severus said gruffly. "I'll get the house-elves to send something down later."

She didn't move from the doorway. He looked up and arched an eyebrow at her.

"Sit down," he finally said, turning to his cupboard to take out a handful of dried leaves. Wolfsbane.

For the werewolf, she realised.

He added the final ingredient to the bubbling potion, stirring thrice anti-clockwise. He let it rise to a boil, then with a casual wave of his hand, he froze the potion in mid-boil. He carefully bottled the smoking potion.

"Why do you still do it?"

"He is of use to Albus." Severus replied evenly, banishing the bottles into a box.

He noticed the pendant around her neck and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"From Draco." She told him, handing it over for him to examine.

It was a simple flat circular disk made of silver, set with a sizeable but awkwardly shaped gem in the middle.

"Dracontias." Severus observed with some amusement as he handed it back to her. "Aren't you worried that he charmed it again?"

"Are you?"

"No." But perhaps you shouldn't listen to me.

"I trust him." She said, clasping the chain around her neck.

"Even after what he has done?"

"People make mistakes." She said, her pale green eyes meeting his cold obsidian ones.

"And some people don't learn from them until it's too late."

He was standing before the impassive stone gargoyle which guarded Dumbledore's office. The rain was pounding against the high windows, snaking silvery down while lightning and thunder crashed outside the walls. Dumbledore's voice concerned, as he insisted that he sit down while he told him everything, while he recited his piece in a dull monotone, the warmth of the fire uncomfortably close. She was dead, dead by the hands of those he had called his fellows, one united under the Dark Mark. One of the only two true friends he had ever made. A Slytherin, yes, but one who had been untouched by the darkness, the girl who lived in a different world from his and under a different code of rules. The girl with the sad green eyes the exact shade of those belonging to the girl who stood before him now, the child she had left in his care before looking into those eyes had become like looking in on an empty room...

Kera looked away, having no answer to that statement.

The wards around the grounds rippled, indicating the arrival of a non-human guest sliding through the magical barriers.

"I told Mehen not to come today." Severus said, frowning as he snapped out of his brooding. "You are too weak to continue with lessons at the moment."

Kera frowned but didn't protest when she saw the look on Severus's face. Both of them turned expectantly towards the door, and sure enough there was a loud crack and one of the house-elves appeared at the doorway.

"What is it?"

"Lord Veneficus requests your presence, Mister Snape sir," the house-elf squeaked.

Severus scowled.

"Stay here." he told her, sweeping out after the tiny creature.

Overcome with unease but not wanting to disobey Severus, Kera forced herself to sit down, the silence in the dungeon getting more unbearable by the minute. Then, unable to stand it any longer, she rose and made her way out of the dungeons, hoping they hadn't killed each other by now.

She heard sounds of what must have sounded like a furious hissing and spitting match to the house-elves emitting from the study and quickened her pace.

"She will not, and that is final." Snape said in dangerously quiet tones.

"Silence, human!" The moustached man sneered. "What gives you the authority to say anything, even if you are a Pythosmouth?"

"I am her legal guardian until she is of age."

"A human binding that none of our kind recognises."

"I do." Kera said as she entered the room, eyeing Veneficus coldly. 

"Bheil tu fathast leanabh." Veneficus spat out. [1]

Kera turned around hissing.

"Di-chuimhnich agad bhur-nindhe." [2] She said softly, her pale eyes blazing. Although she was a good lot shorter than Veneficus, something in her posture and tone made him step back hurriedly and bow low.

"I meant no disrespect."

I see she has been picking up more than just Potion skills from me, Severus thought, mildly amused.

"Leave." She said with a dismissive wave.

When Veneficus had left, Kera relaxed her shoulders a bit, barely perceptibly letting go of the breath she'd been holding in. She sat down in one of the high-backed chairs, aware of Severus observing her intently.

"Very impressive." He commented softly, his mouth quirking into a slight smile.

She felt a strange feeling of pride well up in her chest as she lifted her gaze to meet his.

"I am who you brought me up to be."

[A/N: translations are as follows:

1) "You are but a child."

2) "You forget your place."

Severus is amused by the dracontias pendant because it's a magical stone extracted from the head of a live dragon, after which the dragon probably died. Dracontias is used to produce cures for poisons and is also thought to have protective properties.

My knowledge of Scottish Gaelic is very limited, so if anyone who does speak/write it spots any grammatical errors please feel free to correct me. =) And I'm having a bit of a writer's block for Chapters 3&4, so excuse me while I go off somewhere else for a while to clear my mind…]