Chapter 6: Meanwhile and After… Why?

Back at the Malfoys Mansion, Kera had lapsed back into her old house-elf speech. It was a curiosity, her mother had always admitted, that her daughter could likely converse with a chipmunk without a second thought, when both her parents had struggled forever just to go from English to Romanian. She even got the accent right.

"Kera?" Mrs. Malfoy glided into the kitchen. Out of all the family, she was the girl's favorite, which meant Kera actually attempted to help her.

"Yes Mam?" Kera stuck her head out of the pantry.

"Kera, I was hoping you would take the night off," said Mrs. Malfoy civilly, seating herself on a stool that came out of no where and refusing a biscuit from Cosiky.

"May I ask why, Mam?" It only took a few second to switch from one accent to another.

"Well, it's only two guests we're having, and Cosiky and Elli can handle everything just fine without you."

"But, then, why out? That sounds, Mrs. Malfoy, like what you're implying."

"There will be a man fixing your mirror, and I don't want him disturbed," she replied, a little harsh. Why Kera had to argue was beyond her, especially when she was trying so hard to do this nicely.

"Oh. Couldn't I just as easily do work?" For some reason, Kera felt it imperative that she stay.

"Fine then," Mrs. Malfoy snapped, now more than fed up with all of this, "go muck out the stable, and stay out there after you're done!"

Kera scampered out.

Mrs. Malfoy gave a harsh sigh. She knew that the strange Romanian wasn't really her child, yet the motherly instincts inside of her screamed that Kera should not come in contact with the Dark Lord or her sister Bellatrix, especially when her husband would be begging for forgiveness. It was not only the sad mission, for which she only felt slight remorse for the other party, but also for what she'd seen. Everyone in the Black family had been so proud to see her marry Lucius, and so had she, until Draco came. Her son, at age eight, was like Kera; innocent and forgiving. Now, he was hardened to stone, and at the hands of his own father. And, while Kera was not nearly as good as him (It was hard not to feel like you were dealing with a wild fox.) she would only bear through that once.

Draco Malfoy had nothing to do. It was during dinner, and he and his sister had been excused while the adults sat and talked. Quite frankly, he was glad. His sister was always overjoyed to see their aunt, but he himself was always put out by the thought. So, he happily escaped and headed toward the orchard. Halfway there, however, he stopped and entered the stable to find the source of a strange, guttural singing. (A/N: A stable may be a barn, but that barn is not this stable.)

Its source, half melodious, half spine tingly, was Kera, down on her hands and knees scrubbing. Draco approached warily; he hadn't forgotten the last time there were visitors. "We-ell now, what are you doing out here, Master Malfoy? I was pretty sure dinner wasn't going to end any time soon. Did you get sent from the table for being naughty, sir?"

"Why do you always do that?"

"What, sir?" Kera rose to her feet. She was tall enough, but he was taller.

"You heard me!"

"No, sir, I didn't. Maybe your head's just gotten so big, you're ears are up in the sky and your hearing's off."

"Why do you feel a need to constantly mock me?"

"Why do you feel the need to act like a sick perv?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, I did, but I don't get it." He sank to the floor against a wall with a pale hand to his forehead. Someone wasn't feeling very well. Kera, however, wasn't at all punctured out of her pissed mood.

"What's wrong with you? Normally you'd be insulting my intelligence, race, family, or 'social' life by now." Kera was curious. This was new. He seemed weaker than the regular Malfoy. Was he catching something? Kera sincerely hoped he wouldn't get sick. Taking care of people who were jerks to her wasn't something she did with any particular grace or skill, and she didn't relish in the idea of the whole concept of charity, either.

"Would I? Normally, I think it's actually the other way around. I'm confused." Come to think of it, he sounded nicer too. What was going on with him? Maybe, just maybe, this was a narrow window of opportunity to try something new. He hadn't been hideous to her the entire time; maybe now was the time to go for a different approach with him. The thought of it made her dizzy with the impossibility.

She sank to the floor next to him. "So am I." She gave him a long, steady look. "Now, it seems we've reached an odd sort of crossroads, and there are two different choices. We can a) continue to act as we have been and make each other miserable or b) start over."

"And that'll help how?"

"Well, I don't know, Private Per- I'm willing to try."

"Well, I'm feeling generous tonight, so I'll give it a shot as well."

"Okay." Kera extended her hand. "Hello, my name's Keranouita Carutasu. And you are…"

"Draco Malfoy." He laughed. "Is that really your name? Kerano-"

"Keranouita Rhan Carutasu." She peered at him. "Do you have a problem with my name?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, it's kind of nice, in a strange way."

Kera knew that what ever was wrong with Draco would be over and done with by next morning, but for right now it was nice to have someone, who wasn't scything enough, to actually be able to talk to.

"Hey Kera?" he asked a few minutes later, when a strange and nasty sensation started creeping in on him.

"Huh?"

"Could you start singing again?"

"Um…"

"I was feeling so much more… healthy, while I was listening to it."

Kera glanced at him, trying to make sure this wasn't some type of joke. She shrugged. "My mom always said music was a good way to heal, so why not?" She went back to the same song as earlier, and Draco just sat there. He felt, for once, that school might not be such crap this year.

The mirror was fixed when Kera went to sleep. It winked at her, making her strangely dizzy. No sooner had she drifted off than a tall man in a cape blacker than the night stepped out and glided over to her silent form. He stopped and looked, as one could only imagine, for his face was hidden, with an almost loving gaze. Muttering, he told silent ears, "You do realize, Keranouita, that you brought this upon yourself. It's easy to see that I've no use for a servant who not only struggles against her master but also refuses to obey simple orders, like she was told." A pale hand came out from underneath the material, cold and lifeless, holding a strange vial; it was filled with a dank cloud of something. It was this the man uncorked, and watched with utter satisfaction, free from remorse, as Kera slowly breathed it in. The little air that escaped her inhalation, floated over to a nearby muggle farm, where it was breathed in by a cow that died of bizarre circumstances a month later. Seeing that cold sweat was on her brow, he sighed and wiped it away. Then, with a look of utter disgust, left the way he came.

Needless to say, while the household was unbalance somewhat with alarm the next morning, Lucius Malfoy took it quite peacefully. And why not: it was he who made the 'poison', on his master's orders, though he was sure another of the servants would have delivered it. It was a shame for him, however, that Narcissa Malfoy saw, and took over the care of her servant girl personally after that.

It was a week later that the same woman came to the realization that she was out of nightshade, the only thing that seemed to, for unknown reasons, be what kept Kera from delirium. While she searched in the kitchen, the only modern appearance in the entire house, her husband came in. "Narcissa," he said, in his usual icy tones. "Why do you continue to do this?"

She turned from the ancient ingredient cupboard, "Do what, husband?" Over the years, as she had realized that her husband would never love her quite the way she wished, Narcissa had made it very clear that she would do exactly the same. It was tragic, how naïve she had been in her younger years.

On the other end, Lucius Malfoy cursed fate. It was true, he had once loved his wife, and it was quite likely she'd returned that love, but nothing could ever come before his utter devotion to the Dark Lord, to the power his master brought. Not his wife, kids, nor himself. Now she saw that, and under its harsh light what they once felt withered and died. He barely even knew who he was speaking to. "You know," he replied, softening his voice only so much that his wife would catch the difference. "The Dark Lord informed us of his plan; he said the girl would live. Why do you continue to fight his will?"

"Fight his will?" She almost hissed at him. "Don't you see, Lucius, what he's doing? What you're doing? Do you really mean to tell me you don't care at all for your family?"

"This Romanian orphan is no family of mine!"

"She's not an orphan, and you know that fully well!" she snapped. "You also know what we did to her, what we are doing to her. The least we can do is to try and get her to accept us!"

"But what of when she goes back home Narcissa? What then?"

Narcissa laughed weakly and collapsed into a chair. "I can't believe you actually think he will send her back. You know the Dark Lord; I know the Dark Lord. Once he sinks his teeth into someone, he never lets go. Kera will never see her real family again. What's gotten into you?"

He stepped over to her and tenderly touched her shoulder. "Nothing has gotten into me, dear. You're just tired."

She pulled away from him and watched his hand flop. "No, you're right, nothing's wrong with you. I just don't know you anymore. In fact," she looked up slowly, "I don't even know my son or daughter anymore. Lucius, I've neither known nor loved you since the day you became the man who dragged my son to the Death Eaters, all for the power of hatred and the strength it could give you." Narcissa got up, and headed towards the door, magiking her coat towards her as she went.

"Where are you going?" Lucius asked hoarsely.

"DRACO, COULD YOU PLEASE COME DOWN HERE?" Mrs. Malfoy's voice rang through the house's old wood.

He appeared in a second, almost close enough to be eavesdropping, yet his hair was dripping, clearly from the torrential storm that had just started up outside. "Did you check on Kera?" Mrs. Malfoy asked pleasantly. He looked sideways at his father, still standing agape, then nodded. "And?"

"She says if she's going to die, she'd prefer to do it in a bed that she's become accustomed to," he replied, minus a lot of the usual sarcasm. One note of a song he couldn't stop humming was in his head. Then again, he loved his mother and it would have gone against that to even suggest a lie with his voice. "I told her you'd prefer it if she was out of the cold, but well-"

"She's Kera," Mrs. Malfoy finished. "Ah well, it was worth a try. Now, come along Draco, we need to go next door to borrow a few things."

"Which one?" On one side was muggles, and on the other-

"The Weasleys, of course. I've not seen Molly in a while." She tried to sound pleasant, but was in fact very nervous. "Now, we should leave quickly, because I don't want to keep them up if I come over late. I shall see you later, Lucius." And with that she seized Draco and dragged him into the rain, leaving her astounded husband behind in an empty room.

If Molly Weasley was at all surprised to see Narcissa Malfoy, her one-time school friend, at her door with a dripping wet umbrella and son in tow at 9 in the evening, she was quick to master it. "Narcissa, how- um- lovely to see you after so long. Won't you come in? I was just about to make tea."

"Thank you, Molly. Is it alright if Draco comes in? It's fairly wet, and what I came to tell you about may take awhile." She did her best to seem as comfortable as possible; Mrs. Weasley had to give her that.

"Of course. Won't you step into the kitchen? Draco can dry himself in the hallway." The boy at least had enough manners not to say anything. From what she'd heard from the children, he should have been spitting venom everywhere by now. Then again, from what Molly dimly remembered of the quite, somewhat kindly first-year Slytherin his mother had been, maybe her second-hand impressions were mere error. Then again, she didn't raise her children to be liars, and half watched the boy as she went to the kitchen.

Sitting down on a stool, she offered Mrs. Malfoy a seat. The woman declined and said she would rather stand. "Well, Narcissa, what brings you here?" Not forgetting how their friendship had dissolved, she spoke quite coolly.

"Mrs. Weasley- Molly, I believe you know my servant, Kera? From what I've been told by my daughter, she often comes to your house in her free time." Mrs. Weasley stiffly nodded. "Well, then, maybe you have noticed that she hasn't shown up lately?"

"I figured she was merely being kept busy," was the firm reply.

Mrs. Malfoy ignored what was being implied, saying instead. "Well, Kera has grown gravely ill. We don't the cause of her sickness, only that the hideous fever is kept at bay only by nightshade, which I've run out of."

"And you haven't taken her to St. Mungo's?"

"She refused to be moved, in any way. I was hoping you might have some of the herb yourself."

Molly eyed Narcissa for several minutes. She wasn't sure what to make of this. Not only was nightshade a deadly poison in the wrong amounts, but when had Narcissa, once Black now Malfoy, cared about any of her servants. Simple schoolgirl she may once have been; now the girl was a woman, and Mrs. Weasley wasn't ready to sympathize. "Well-"

"-Molly. Please, I-I need your help. I couldn't stand losing another child in my house! It's cursed. The very walls are hungry for life. Please, help me. If not for Narcissa Malfoy, than for dear old Sissy!" Tears began to trickle from once lifeless eyes.

"It's okay, Narcissa. Come on, come on, Sissy, let's go see what I have."

Draco, feet dripping all over the mat, looked disdainfully at the small, cramped hallway he found himself in. Why had his mother chosen to drag him here, of all places? He somewhat distantly knew that it had something to do with the oddly unnerving disease that seemed to be overcoming Kera; but that his mother, one of the best pure-bloods in the land, would stoop so low and ask a blood traitor for help? Well, no servant of his would ever be worth that much.

"Ugh, this weather's terrible. Hey, you girls in the mood for a snack?" Ron's gangly feet were the first to appear on the groaning stairs; dirty hand-me-downs that must have been at least a size too small. They were soon follow by long, ripped shorts, an even worse shirt, and, finally, the freckled boy himself. And where there was Ron, there was almost always Harry. The two stopped dead when the saw the dripping Malfoy in front of them. Trying to avoid any sudden movements, Ron inched into the kitchen. He returned seconds later, mouthing for Harry, "There are more of them."

"Malfoy. What're you doing here?" Harry bitterly wished he hadn't left his wand in Ron's room. Not that it would have done any good, of course.

"Yeah," Ron sneered, "is your mansion really that bad?"

"Ron," Harry whispered tersely, "I hope you realize you just insulted yourself as well."

"Potter. Weasley." For once in his life, Draco Malfoy seemed determined not to say anything. He stood, almost as if a wandering Medusa had frozen him moments before, and merely glared.

"I'm going to ask you again Malfoy," Harry told him, coming closer. "What're you doing here?"

"Hey, what's going on?" Ginny stood behind Ron's tall frame, vision obscured. "I thought we were getting a snack. Hermione?" Hermione, next to Ginny on the step, had caught sight of Malfoy and stopped short of gaping.

Malfoy, on the other hand, was pounding. Or, at least, his heart was. Even the sound of her hidden voice was enough to make him nervous, and not much made him tremble. "Alright, Potter. You know that girl you people are all so fond of?"

Harry looked at him, and Ron and Hermione remained blank. But, Ginny instantly yelped, "What did you do to Kera, Malfoy!"

A dark look passed over his face. "Nothing," he calmly replied, remembering to check his temper in front of this beautiful girl. "She's just sick. My mother ran out of something, and since you're the only wizarding family this, close." He avoided at all cost saying, 'neighbor'.

"Oh, yeah, like my mum would help you out, you-" Ron sneered.

"Ronald," Mrs. Weasley calmly cut in. "If you close that mouth right now I believe we can all just ignore what you were about to say." Walking to the door, she unlatched it, and held it open for the Malfoys with a smile. "Well, Narcissa, it's been a pleasure. Do stop by again, ah, sometime." The last bit was all forced formality.

Draco exited, nodding stiffly to Mrs. Weasley. Narcissa paused. "Thank you, again, Molly, for all of this. I'll send Cosiky or- I'll deliver that powdered viper fang to you as soon as I can." With a grateful and masked smile, she too nodded and departed into the stormy night. Molly closed the door with obvious relief and an accompanying sigh.

"Mum, what was-" Ron and Ginny both began.

"Ron, Ginny, all of you; learn from tonight." She looked pointedly at them and Professor McGonagall came to mind. "Our enemies don't always have to remain as such. Sometimes, they can be friends."

"Mum," Ron started, "what aren't you-"

"Now," Mrs. Weasley exited briskly, "Who wanted something to snack on?"

Whatever Mrs. Malfoy got from Ron's mum did the trick, because when September the 1st rolled around, Hermione was sure that she saw two sleek blonde heads walking slower than most to accommodate a much weaker looking black-brunette with them. She decided not to say anything to her friends. The mention of Kera only made Harry go grim and speculative, and it was funk she'd rather not have him in on the first day back. Besides, there was something really unnerving about that kid. It was a dark sort of thing, and Hermione didn't want it coming within a mile of any of her friends.

Kera hadn't been to the Weasley's since her recovery, but Mrs. Malfoy had, once more; she had something to deliver. Under the pretext of her illness, Mr. Malfoy had jump on the chance to confine the once rebellious girl to the property. Not that he needed to. Weaken in her new kitten state, Kera barely even thought anymore, let alone went anywhere. She just found it easier to do whatever anyone told her to do, and leave it at that, no questions asked. It was a situation that seemed to suit all parties on the train.