Alright then! Onto the next chapter of Venom!

In place of the note that I didn't have last chapters, here you go!

This is the immediate sequel to 'The One Who Is Two'. It covers the second year at Hogwarts, the chamber of secrets arc, etcetera.

Thank you to all of you who have enjoyed reading the Dauntless series so far. I hope that the first book was quite enjoyable. I found it quite enjoyable to write, and I still have many many ideas for this series moving forward.

A fair bit of warning. Just like it's predecessor, 'Venom' will contain mentions of abuse, trauma, flashbacks caused by PTSD. There is a lot that goes on, and mental scars take a while to heal.

Now, this shouldn't be to the same degree as before, but it still warrants warnings. So without further ado,

Let's get going.

—0—

Whoooo~

A cold wind flowed over the hills of Devon, Shepherding in a cluster of storm clouds heavy with rain.

Pitter pat, pitter pat.

The rain began to fall as a single figure trudged onwards through one of the fields. Private property, which didn't belong to said individual.

That was made clear as a shot rang out.

-KAPOW!-

The figure froze, before taking off at a run as another shot followed. The sound of barking began to grow as three large farm dogs were released from their kennels.

"YOU LITTLE MONGREL!"

Another shot rang out, and the figure stumbled. Peter Weencurd, the farmer who owned the field, loaded another bullet into his rifle as he ran towards the intruder.

"GOT YEH THAT TIME DIDN'T I?

The figure limped towards the edge of the field, towards the treeline. The edge of Peters property.

"YER FOOD FER THE DOGS NOW BOY!" Peter roared as he raised the rifle. As his finger pressed down on the trigger, lighting lit the sky, accompanied by a roar of thunder which shook the earth beneath Peters feet, causing his shot to go wide.

"Shit.. buggin' piece eh shit…"

Peter tried to load another shot in the rifle, but found it was jammed. "Shit! Feckin' Piece eh- GAHHHH!"

Peter tossed the jammed firearm aside and began moving towards the intruder, who was doing their best to fend off the farm dogs with a branch they had picked up.

"Tha's right boys. Get em!"

The biggest of the three dogs growled and ducked down, before pouncing at the intruder. The dog gave a yip as they were smacked across the face with the branch, causing them to tiptoe back a bit.

The three dogs began to circle the intruder, growling lowly. As Peter approached, he could see the intruder clutching at their leg, which was bleeding steadily from a gunshot wound just below their knee.

"Knew i got yeh this time. That should teach yeh not teh trespass."

The figure swiped their tree branch as another one of the dogs pounced, catching them under their left foreleg and tossing them on their side.

"Oi! Don't you go injuring my dogs!" Peter walked forward. "Come on. I'm gonna bring yeh in to the county police."

The figure turned, causing Peter to freeze. It was a boy, no more than twelve. He had dull red hair which was clumped together in some places. He was dressed rather odd for a boy his age. Old pants and suspenders over a patchy shirt. And was that a cloak over all of his clothes?

"What's with the odd getup?

The boys open hand was up in a second, pointing a stick towards Peter as he stared in fright.

"Oh buggin hell. A crazy kid sent off on his own? Come on. Let's get yeh-"

"Stay back."

Peter froze. He wasn't scared of the tiny stick the boy was pointing at him, or the branch in the kids hand. The little brat was small enough that he could overpower him with one hand, easily. But something told Peter that something was off.

"Hey hey now. Put the sticks down okay? I'll call off the dogs." Peter gave a short whistle, causing the dogs to stop their growling. The three canines trotted over to Peter, sitting by his side as he held out a hand. "Come on. I can get yeh a bowl of soup and bring yeh to one of the orphanages-"

"I'm not going to a bloody orphanage." The boy spat. "And you shot me with one of your muggle weapons. I'm not kidding, stay back or I will hurt you."

"Is that a threat?" Peter puffed up his chest. Who was this little snot to threaten him? And on his own property no less?

Still… that gaze of his. Why did it send chills down Peter's spine?

"Let me go. I walk out through the woods and I'm gone forever."

Peter scoffed. "You won't get far. There's a lead ball about two centimeters across buried above your kneecap. I can fish it out and-"

"You put it in there in the first place." The boy jabbed his stick at Peter. "This is your last warning. Take your dogs, turn around, and walk away."

Peter stepped forward, rolling up his sleeves. "Listen here yeh little-"

The boy let out an inhuman sound. It was a hoarse whisper, grating, yet silky smooth. It seemed to click as he breathed out this death rattle, yet he stood still, staring at Peter as the stick in his hand quivered.

"Is that supposed to scare me? Come on kid, you need-"

A pinch caused Peter to flinch. He looked down to see a tiny black speck on the back of his hand. Looking closer, he found it was a spider.

"What the-"

Another pinch twinged at his shoulder. Peter felt another on his back, and then another on his ankle. More and more spider bites erupted across the mans skin as he began slapping at his shirt and pants. "Hey! What the hell is this? Get 'em off! Get 'em off!"

The dogs were yipping just as much as a swarm of tiny black spiders crawled across their skin. The boy turned and limped away, out of the field and into the forest, leaving nothing but the flailing farmer and his dogs as they ran back to the farmhouse, eager to rid themselves of the strange pest swarm.

Shhhhhh…

The steady drum of raindrops became muted by the grass and forest foliage, turning each tiny beat into a collective whisper as the boy trudged through the murky mud of the forest floor.

Finding their way to a large rock, the boy sat down upon it, wincing as his leg fell limply on the cool surface of the wet stone. Lightning flashed, illuminating the shadowy corners of the woods as blood dribbled down from the boys wound.

"I know… Nib… I know… it's bad…"

The boy sat still for a few moments, panting. Seemingly listening to something.

"The muggle said it was lead, not copper like I found in the last few properties." The boy ran a hand through his sopping wet hair, slicking it out of his face as he panted. "I'll have to get it out of course…"

The boy's head twitched and he shook his head. "No… Your cousins helped me get away. That is enough for now. Thank you."

The boy raised his wand and pressed the tip to his open wound. "I suppose… do you think there's enough blood here for that spell?"

The boy sat for a moment, listening to whatever he was listening to, before he nodded. "Not like it would be a bad alternative. Alright… here goes nothing."

The tip of the boys wand began to glow with a dull red light, which grew stronger as he grit his teeth. The thrum of magic was accompanied by a high pitched whistle as the lost blood from the wound turned to steam. The boys mouth opened in a primal scream of pain as his body forced the fragments of the lead bullet from their places. Embedded within his muscle and bone.

And Draco Malfoy woke up panting.

"Ron…"

Tip tip tap tap tip tap-

The blonde wizard blinked and turned to see raindrops lazily spattering on his bedroom window. The grim black arches of the manors' architecture glinting as the sun rose over the far hill.

Draco let out a deep breath and rubbed his temples as he sat in bed.

"Dobby."

With a pop, his house elf appeared at his bedside. He hadn't called on the elf since he returned home from Hogwarts, now that he thought about it. A shame, especially considering the creatures living condition.

"W-what can Dobby do for m-master Draco Malfoy?"

Draco rubbed his temples. "Fetch me a glass of water please, Dobby."

"It is done master." The elf flicked his hand, causing a crystal glass to appear in his hand. Dobby gingerly presented the water as if it were a mythical artifact, making Draco a bit uncomfortable as he took the glass.

"Is m-master Draco Malfoy n-needing anything else?"

Draco sighed as he held the half empty glass of water in his lap. He thought about how Dobby had presented it to him moments ago, as if it were some sort of treasure.

"Dobby… when is the last time you had food, or drink?"

The house elf's eyes widened as his ears wobbled. He was shaking.

"M-master D-draco asks Dobby? D-dobby only eats what m-master D-draco leaves for him."

That was a disgusting thought. The poor thing had lived off of Draco's leftovers?

"Why that's barely a scrap of bread and a bit of water every night!" The young wizard blinked. "You need to eat, Dobby."

The house elf shook his head. "It is forbidden sir. Your Father forbids it you see. I is not as experienced as the other elves he says. Not b-broken in."

"Has my father been working you while I am away?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

Dobby looked as though he wanted to answer, but he kept stopping himself, wringing his hands. Draco blinked as the elf's ratty pillowcase shifted, showing his scratched up arms.

"He has, hasn't he." Draco narrowed his eyes. "How much has he punished you?"

"Masters father is just rigorous. Masters father be making sure that dobby can adequately-"

"I am your master, Dobby. I say when your service is adequate." Draco spat, causing the elf to go rigid in fear. "Sorry… my father just seems to be using you without my permission… something which he would punish me for doing."

The boy sighed and climbed out of his bed, walking over to his window and looking out over the Malfoy estate as Dobby remained at attention.

"Then again, I am his son…" Draco mumbled. "But that doesn't make me his property… Dobby!"

"Yes master Draco sir!"

"Fetch me a plate of eggs and toast. Make sure that there are three eggs, and three slices of toast. And two glasses of water."

"Ah! Yes. of course master-"

"And do be careful not to burn your fingers." Draco interrupted. "It would be a shame to have your duties hindered by such an injury… don't you agree?"

"Oh… Oh yes master. Dobby will return soon."

With a pop, the house elf vanished. Draco sighed and walked over to his wardrobe. His father wouldn't approve of his plans for the elf, but screw what his father thought. His father was just the inheritor of the Malfoy Estate. He had used it to worm and weasel his fingers into the pockets of poorer lords. He was nothing but a conman.

The first Malfoy Lord was Armand Malfoy, who built the estate acre by acre with money he earned as a farm boy in France. The next few lords had built up the family's wealth but by agonizing bit, all until Abraxes Malfoy, Draco's grandfather.

Draco didn't remember his Grandfather. The man had died before he was born, and Lucius refused to hang any portraits of past Malfoys. Yet still, he knew enough about the man to see him as an idol. He was a wizard who lived until the ripe age of one hundred and seventeen. Younger than the normal wizard… In his prime, at the age of forty, he fought in Grindelwalds war. It was there that the connection grew between the Malfoys and the most ancient and most noble house of Black. On the battlefield, Abraxes gave his left hand to save Arcturus Black, the heir to the family name.

Although he was older when Voldemort rose to power, the man still stood against his son, Draco's father. In the history books, Abraxes was said to be a martyr, killed in his sleep by cowardly death eaters.

The truth was that Lucius obliterated the weezened man in a duel, ending the legend of the great Abraxes Malfoy.

Draco had been taught all of the truth from his father. It was he who instilled upon Draco the benefits of cunning thievery. He learned firsthand how his father had taken every single ally to the family and made them kneel to him. The crabbes, the goyles. Many many more were in his pocket, all hanging from puppet strings.

Draco saw through all of that, however. His father was destroying the family that his ancestors had worked so hard to build. He would inherit a shattered and disgraced name when his father passed, at least, if the man had his way.

Draco opened the half armoire closet of his wardrobe and began running through his robes. He picked out a few simple outfits to try, looking in the mirror as he held up dress shirts and pants.

The young wizard eventually settled on simple boack and white robes, donning them as a pop sounded through the room.

"Dobby has b-brought breakfast for m-master Draco."

Draco nodded and sat down on the side of his bed. He accepted the plate of eggs and toast from the servant with a nod, and placed the first glass of water on his bedside table.

After eating his first piece of toast, Draco noticed Dobby still standing there holding the second cup of water, fidgeting a finger or two every so often.

"Is there a problem?"

"Master hasn't taken his second glass. D-Dobby is puzzled sir."

Draco nodded. "I see… that glass of water is for you."

The elf's eyes widened. "For Dobby? D-Dobby does not understand-"

"Drink." Draco nodded. "You are malnourished and underwatered. You look like a bag of bones wrapped in a flaky old pillowcase. Drink. The. Water."

Dobby nodded, his ears flapping as he bobbed his head. The house elf drank the water quickly, consuming every drop he could get. Draco hummed and finished his first egg and piece of toast.

"Is there any mail for me, Dobby?"

The house elf stiffened. "D-Dobby will go check, master Draco."

The elf disappeared with a pop, along with his glass of water. Draco sincerely hoped that the elf wouldn't encounter his father.

Draco sighed and turned his attention back to his breakfast. He slowly scooped the second egg onto a slice of toast and took a bite, allowing the yolk of the fried egg to pop and soak into his bite.

A few minutes passed. Draco finished his second egg and toast before Dobby returned, which didn't bode well for the little servant.

The elf soon popped back into the room, a burning red welt on one of his ears. Draco could feel rage boiling in his lungs as he saw the injury. Setting the plate down on his bed stand, he plucked the single envelope from his elf's hand.

"Thank you… You may have the rest of my breakfast, Dobby."

The house elf's eyes glimmered at the gracious gift that his master gave. A whole breakfast of egg and toast… for him! For Dobby!

"Be sure to eat it slowly, with elegance. If my father comes in and finds you scarfing that down, he may have half a mind to burn you alive."

Dobby gave a squeak of fear, his hands shooting up to pull on his ears. Draco patted the elf on the head with a sigh and popped open the envelope of his letter as the elf snapped his fingers, conjuring an old three-legged stool. Draco nodded as the elf sat and slowly began eating his food.

Dear Draco

I'll have to keep this short. Mum and dad don't know I'm writing to you. After Percy complained about me and my "dark dealings with the Malfoys", We all got spoken to. Good news is, I got my wand back. Bad news, mum won't let me do magic in the house. My summer homework will probably have to wait until the train to Hogwarts next term.

Fred and George are helping me send this, they trained a barn owl to deliver mail. If you want to write to me, address the letter to them, please and thank you.

I hope your summer is going better than mine.

Ron-

Draco sighed and crumpled up the letter. He couldn't let his father see his correspondence with the youngest Weasley son or else he may end up in worse situation.

Still, Ron was safe. Not running away from savage muggles with their destructive firearms.

"Dobby?"

There was a pause. Draco turned to see the elf dabbing his face off with his pillowcase.

"Yes master D-Draco?"

"When you are finished, take the dishes and gather another set of linens for my bed. Make sure that you take your time to make the dishes clean, and only gather matching linens please. It should take you roughly one hour, so return then. Understood?"

"Yes master D-Draco sir. Dobby is f-finished now with his m-meal. D-Dobby will return in one hour."

Draco nodded as the elf picked up the dishes and disappeared with a pop. Rolling his neck, he let his posture soften.

Acting so pompous did not do wonders for a person's back, and he was only twelve! He couldn't risk back problems at his age.

Flexing his fingers, Draco stretched his arms and then leaned over to touch his toes, before walking to his desk and sitting down. After a moment of thought, he nodded and pulled out a roll of parchment, a quill, and some plain black ink.

Dear Ron…

—0—

This book is going to have some HEAVY focus on Draco and Ron. Both have very different, yet equally important roles to fill in the entire story, and having this mutual alliance turned friendship on the table is really helping to flesh out their characters much more.

Draco needs a certain amount of rebelliousness in order to be friends with a Weasley, and Ron needs to be a bit less of a movie or book Ron in order to befriend a Malfoy.

So as always, leave a review. More to come shortly!

Adios