Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were proud to say that their blood was perfectly pure thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything diseased or dirty, because they just didn't hold with such liberal thinking. The Malfoys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. Draco wasn't a normal young wizard. He was a mud-blood abomination, a transgenic. They claimed he was a delicate sickly child and left him in that institution for years, unable to bare such atrocity under their roof longer than necessary and hoping for a second child, but now the time had come.

Chapter 1 - Draco

There was lots of blood. And snow. And noise – snowmobile engines, yelling soldiers and helicopters. It seemed a bit like a fading dream now. Eva falling. Escaping. Impossible. Supporting this story was Draco's unbroken right leg. No bite marks either. That didn't seem right though. It didn't explain where he was now.

At first, Draco didn't notice the man. He was staring down at his leg, rubbing his hand up down it, searching for some sign that it all happened. There weren't footsteps or the opening of a door. Just one minute Draco was alone and then he wasn't. Just like that.

Draco scrambled out of the bed to stand at attention. That was his intention. But this bed had all these extra sheets and covers. More pillows then he knew what to do with. His foot got trapped in one of these things and crashed to the floor.

A flicker of amusement passed through his dark eyes as he stared down at Draco. "I heard about extraordinary human abilities, grace and poise of the top creatures in the animal kingdom, unsurpassed skill and intelligence. This is a bit of a disappointment."

Draco swallowed dryly. He never knew whether a response was expected after these sorts of speeches. He seemed to get into trouble either way. He untangled himself and stood up. This man sounded funny, foreign and he wore strange clothes and he certainly was Manticore.

"What's your name?" he asked. "And don't give me that X-5 rubbish. By name, I do in fact mean name."

"Draco, sir," he said quietly, dead certain that this was some sort of trap, that he might as well just walk into and get out of the way.

"Good boy," said the man, smiling now. He looked Draco up and down. "No disputing you're Malfoy-Black progeny."


"Your father will tell you in due time, I'm sure," replied the man.

This, of course, wasn't much of an answer, but Draco wasn't really expecting an answer at all. He risked another question. "Who are you?"

"Professor Snape."

Nobody Draco heard of before. It seemed strange that the man knew so much about him then.

"Be good for your family, Draco," Snape warned. "I doubt they'll like you very much or even understand you. If you do what you're told you'll get on all right for the next 18 months. Act normal, learn and learn fast, and don't slip up. Understand?"

"Yes sir," Draco replied, but he wasn't sure that he did. He was a transgenic; that meant he didn't have a family. And even if he did, families by definition were supposed to like each other. What was normal anyway?

And then man was gone