Lysandra Druella Riddle blinked furiously against the thin sliver of light that had intruded upon her otherwise peaceful slumber. With a groan, she flipped into the comforting down of her pillow, simultaneously blocking out the sunshine and the sounds of Narcissa’s shrill screams of fury flung in the general direction of some unfortunate victim.
“I will not surrender my son! I’ve already lost my husband, isn’t that enough--”
“Quiet, Narcissa,” snapped the silky voice of Severus Snape. “Your ‘motherly love’ is hardly enough to save the boy this time. Had Lucius not failed in the Department of Mysteries, things would be different, now Draco is the only thing saving your family from ruination.”
“Ruination is acceptable in exchange for his life, Severus.” At this rather pitiful declaration, Snape’s cold laugh interrupted, and Lysandra had no trouble imagining the waxy features of her Occlumency teacher split into a malicious grin.
“You think the Dark Lord will leave your son alive if he refuses?”
“Mistress?”
Lysandra jumped, wand drawn in an instant and jabbed in the direction of a sheepish looking house-elf who had, from the looks of the large breakfast tray held in his hands, been waiting for her to awaken.
“Bloody hell, Dobby,” she sighed, “you’re mental. I almost hexed your ears off.”
“Dobby is sorry, Mistress Riddle,” the creature stammered, bowing hastily. “Dobby didn’t know Mistress was still sleeping.”
“Well there’s no sleeping through their racket, is there?” She tweaked one of his ears affectionately, sliding out of bed. Despite her caretakers’ unnatural loathing of the unfortunate creature, Dobby was one of Lysandra’s dearest companions. Before the capture of her surrogate father, Lucius Malfoy, the Malfoy family had played host to important Ministry officials on many a frequent occasion. As Lysandra’s existence was unknown and would certainly cause an uproar detrimental to the Dark Lord‘s plans, she was kept hidden away, and Dobby was the only ally allowed to her.
“I’m not hungry, thank you, Dobby. I’d fancy a bit of tea downstairs.”
She stretched, surveying the greyish dawn that had interrupted her slumber and was spreading rosy fingertips of light across the grounds of the Malfoy manor. Undeniably, her father had picked for her a magnificent prison. But it was a prison, nonetheless.
“Good morning, godfather!” Lysandra called, her head poked out of the door to address Snape. Seeing her, the two abruptly fell to silence, but the glares they shot at each other were unmistakable. Lysandra chose to ignore, and skipped lithely forward to place a kiss on the waxy cheek of Severus Snape, who consequently took her hand and brushed his lips across it.
“I’m afraid I’ve come to postpone your lesson for today,” he announced. “Your fath--the Dark Lord has arranged for me to meet him this afternoon.”
“Obviously there is another reason for your unexpected arrival.” Lysandra poured herself a cup of tea from the pot on a sideboard, surveying him inquisitively. “You would have sent your regards by owl if that was all.”
“I see I have trained you too well, Lysandra.” He flashed her the smallest of tight-lipped grins. “I’m to inform you that the Dark Lord requests your presence as well.”
The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and the cup slipped from her fingers. A quick spell from Snape saved it from crashing across the marble, but she paid him no mind, frozen as the meaning of the words sunk in.
“Me?” she repeated. “He requests my presence? But…why?”
“I assume he will reveal his will to you at that time. If you’ll excuse me, Narcissa…” He inclined his head curtly, disappearing towards the front door with a swish of his cloak behind him.
Ignoring Narcissa’s simpering, would-be comforting coos of feigned affection, Lysandra retreated towards the stairs, taking them two at a time. Draco would know, she assured herself. Draco would know what to do.
She didn’t wait to knock, but shoved the door open as she reached the landing. The pale-faced Malfoy child within was pacing before a half-empty trunk, having been distracted in the midst of packing for the start of term by the burn mark illustrated across his forearm. He hardly glanced up as she entered, preoccupied as he was tracing the ridge of the skull.
“He’s sent for me,” she murmured breathlessly. “What am I to do?”
“Sorry?” Draco was jerked from his reverie by her hysterical tone of voice, and seemed to have not heard her.
“The Dark Lord wishes to see me this evening.”
“Oh…” What little color was present in his pale visage was drained as he surveyed her. “What the bloody hell are you going to do, then?”
“Slytherin only knows. You remember what happened the last time?!” She had begun to circle the length of Draco’s bedroom, but paused and turned to face his worried expression. “Tell me what to do,” she whispered. “Whatever he wants, it can’t be anything good.”
“I’m the last person to ask,” Draco sighed, running a hand through his slicked flaxen hair. “The last time I saw him, he--” but the teenager broke off with a shudder, shaking his head in revulsion. “You should ask Snape or Yaxley, anyone else.”
“There isn’t anyone else,” she whispered. Draco broke away from his frenzied pacing, sensing the uncontrollable desperation in her voice. Sighing, he reached to take her hands, warming them between his own as he drew her close.
“You’re the daughter of the most powerful Wizard in the world,” he murmured. “And tonight you’ll remind him of that.”
Dark Lord's Bane by katjak
Chapter Notes: Sixteen years later
Chapter Endnotes: Please read/review
Much, much, much more to come.