I stared at the small bottle that rested on a dresser in front of me. It was unmarked and smelled completely vile when I opened it the first several times. Now it rested on top of the flat surface, where I had placed it hours ago, in hopes that I would gather the courage to take a sip. My conscious egged me to hold off since I had no idea how the potion would react to my body, however, the need for blood rippled through my gut with strong force. Amycus had not returned from the nights 'hunt' for me to ask, but I doubted he knew anything. Even Madam Pomphrey noted his questionable work when he tried to reverse the Lycanthropy months ago.
I sighed and sat back down on the end of the bed. My stomach would not give me any peace, forcing my body to remain awake well into the night. I had tried everything; reading, counting backwards, meditation. If only I had that large piece of Amethyst Draco had sent me, I would be golden. It angered me that it was probably still resting in my nightstand drawer at school. Good use it is doing there. I sighed. More than likely Draco would have one or at least some calming draught. The items that actually came in my trunk had been far and few between, like someone had literally shut the lid and drug it back to the manor. What I did have were a few old textbooks, a mismatch of clothing, a couple of half-empty ink wells, several broken quills, my boots and, to my amazement, my purse I had brought to Draco's party. I didn't remember throwing it into my trunk, but then again, the moments preceding that night's party happened so quickly.
In the purse lay, wrapped, the mirror I had so desperately tried to contact Amycus with. Narcissa never relayed the message (either that or they all knew of the dastardly plan and could wait to see me). Frustration grew within at the slight thought of all of the deception. I was still angry with Draco, his cries of forgiveness rattling through the heat. I had made the mistake of trusting him, a death eater, a murderer.
But, he wasn't a true murderer, was he? From what everyone was saying, Draco simply lost his courage, forcing Snape to step in and finish the job. It made me wonder if they were in it together from the very beginning. Severus Snape, a trusted professor among the school and respected highly by the headmaster himself, threw everyone for a sickening loop when he casted the killing curse. It was a miracle he had made it out alive, let alone with all but a trophy to show for his accomplishments.
But where had that left Draco? I still couldn't wrap my head around the idea that he was responsible for the assassination and, not to mention, had been planning it for months. He hadn't been hiding a horcrux at all; it was worse. Dumbledore was gone and the only thing that stood between me and Voldemort was a literal layer of floor boards.
The plan Amycus had proposed to me was slowly creeping into my reality. And not that I hadn't thought about it, but helping Harry was second nature. What I wasn't looking forward to was stealing that information in the Manor whilst appearing to be helpful to the death eaters. The task of representing two different sides of a messenger was daunting and honestly, I didn't know how I was going to be able to do it. Hell, especially not without Draco. I had just gotten used to the fact of being his second. I had even managed to lay down some decent ground between the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins over the past few weeks. When things started to become bearable, he had to go and rip it all to shreds.
I could feel the tears threatening as I lingered on the thought. Suck it up Lyra! What is a heartbreak to you? You're supposed to be the logical pursuer, not the emotional wreck. I took a deep breath in and shook the emptiness that resided within me. Curling back between the sheets, I drew the cold pillow against my chest and shut my eyes. My hope was to succumb to the comfort of the bed but it left me with nothing shy of a need for human contact.
All night I tossed and turned to the cries that shattered my dreams. The sounds had been drilled into my brain over the familiarity of it all from the floor below. It became so transparent that I started dismissing them as white noise as I tried to sleep.
"Ha! Yes! Finally got the little bugger now did we? I can't wait." Bellatrix's cackle forced my eyes wide open. The chill that ran down my spine every time I heard her was unfathomable.
"He was a hard one, I'll admit that." A second voice grunted as a thud sounded from below. Great. Who do they have now? I thought to myself. Prisoners were a nightly accommodation. It was terrifying even more so as the days passed and I still had no idea if my friends were ok. It could've easily been any of them down there, lifelessly thrown to the ground. I strained my ears against the hard floor, hoping to get more information.
"So what do you think he'll do? Kill him?" continued the man.
"We should only hope," Bellatrix shrieked again. "Just look at him! He won't last more than ten minutes under the curse I bet you!" I could hear the man scoff.
"You'd think Dumbledore would be wiser than to allow such a careless disgrace of a man to be helpful in the order. HA! The lot of them are oblivious buffoons." They proceeded to drag the body down the hallway, their voices getting softer as they moved father away from my place above them.
Who were they taking? Someone from the Order, was clear, but who was stupid enough to put themselves in the way of a death eater? Of course, with Bellatrix's thirst for blood, it wouldn't surprise me if she stalked their headquarters every moment she was away from the house.
I had no intention of making it all the way down the stairwell but shortly after I crept within the depths of the landing did I see a flash of bright blonde hair pass into the drawing room below. My curiosity peeked so I decided to make a move.
"My, what a pleasant surprise Bella, although an easy capture I presume." The air became colder as the voice echoed off of the walls.
"Actually," started the man I had heard earlier.
"Yes. Yes it was," Bellatrix interrupted. There was a deadly silence that lingered out into the hallway, forcing me to catch my breath.
"I didn't intend for you to be back so soon, but as it may…. I think we need to address the situation of the ministry, now that we are finalizing our count." I could hear a couple of members chuckle.
Someone in the order and the ministry. My mind was quickly drawn back to the room as the victim jostled awake from his unconscious state and started to scream within his restraints. A curt smile spread over the deathly pale face of Voldemort at the sudden movement.
"Did the mention of your precious ministry collapsing startle you, Dawlish?" A hysterical voice called out from around the table. Amycus laughed at the ghostly face of the terrified man. I crept closer to the room, clinging myself tightly along the walls. My breath was low but sporadic while my heart pumped profusely out of my chest.
"Oi, I think he wet himself!" Roared Amycus, almost collapsing with hysteria onto the table. The once amused death eaters watched him grovel as he tried to contain himself.
"Enough Amycus. Let's not let the man feel uncomfortable," Voldemort flashed a cringe worthy mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth. He turned to face the now cowering man. "Dawlish, I wish it were a pleasure to see you again. Let me make it clear that you will not find this escape so easy." The corner of his lips twitched slightly as a cry belted from behind the man's restraints. "I am sure you are aware about the unfortunate…..disappearances… of your fellow comrades. Cooperate or you will join them." Voldemort's hand swiped over the middle aged man's mouth, capturing the silencing charm on his victim. Dawlish gasped and heaved several times before immediately turning to the man that captured him.
"You skum! I should've guessed you'd deviate a way to haunt me forever!" Spit flew from his mouth in newly ignited rage. The long face of the targeted man grew in sudden amusement.
"A personal acknowledgement Dawlish? I'm flattered," his grin made my gut churn. That voice.
Voldemort was starting to become visibly impatient. Hunched over the table, he rapped at the table. The noise snapped everyone back to attention. "What can you tell us about the location of the boy? Surely as a member of the Order and the Ministry, you would possess that knowledge."
The man turned to face the dark red eyes and shuttered. After a few uncalming breaths, he vigorously shook his head.
"N..No, no sir. I know nothing about whom you are seeking. I am simply a messenger."
The tall cloaked monster stood over the man with such presence, I could feel my own knees begin to tremble. "Then the Ministry. Who knows? Give me a name." Dawlish simply dropped his mouth open and stared in utter shock at the dark figure.
"No? Very well. CRUCIO." A burst of red light shot out from beneath the monster's sleeve followed by a sharp yelp of murderous torture. Dawlish crumbled beneath the bone twisting effects, shortly passing out from the sensory overload.
Voldemort frowned and a few death eater's sighed in disappointment. The familiar man turned to Bellatrix and grinned at his win of their bet made over the unconscious Order member that was tied limply to the chair across from them.
"Well… that was uneventful," Amycus scoffed, making heads turn. Voldemort went to sit at his seat at the head of the table again. For moments he collected his thoughts forcing the group to watch idly.
By this point, my heart was beating straight out of my chest. I didn't even realize my position as I had crept closer to the opening of the large room.
"Maybe the girl will know." The long drawl of his words flooded over my body, freezing me before his evil gaze. As if in peaked unison, all of the heads at the table turned towards the entrance of the drawing room; towards me. I caught the deepening blue silver of Draco's eyes in half-tempted desperation.
"Don't be shy. You are among family," Voldemort's dry voice curled around my throat, suffocating me as I emerged from the darkness of the hall. Amycus gave me an attempted comforting, yet maniacal look and urged me to step forward.
"What do you know about the Ministry? Your parents were Aurors, were they not?" I nodded my head in response but I still couldn't produce any words.
"What good is she if she is a mute?" A hidden, unfamiliar voice said.
"Maybe we should kill her!" scowled another. My uncle's glare shot in the direction of the comment.
"No."
The room became silent and everyone turned to the blonde headed boy that sat near the head of the table.
"And what says you Draco?"
I cold hear Draco gulp as the cold red eyes squinted towards him. The dead, silent tension was unpalpable. I noticed beads of sweat sparkling from the blonde's hairline as he choked down his fear.
"She...she is brilliant, my Lord." Voldemort awaited him to elaborate, shifting ever so often to look at me. "She has produced extraordinary magic. I have seen it myself."
Voldemort pressed on. "Such as?"
His mother pressed her lips at her son while Lucius cast him a stark sideways glance as he continued.
"I have never seen such a perfect vial of Veritaserum. Not to mention she can create Gubraitian fire and produce a patronus." I could hear a few murmurs of slight bafflement. Voldemort shifted his body to address me.
"Is that so? The everlasting flame can only be produced by skilled alchemists." I nodded slightly again. He sat to ponder on the thought. "Yes...yes we shall keep her a while," he mumbled to himself quietly. My breath dropped and rose gently, attempting to stabilize at the aftermath of the recent decision.
"I presume the Malfoys are giving you proper accommodations?" I could now feel Lucius's and Narcissa's eyes on me as the question gave me immediate power over them. Lucius's lip quivered while he waited.
The longer I waited, the thicker the air became. Say something! I took a deep breath and found a small inking of courage in my brain.
"Y..ye...yes my Lord." Voldemort's eyes glowed with satisfaction. The words tasted sour on my tongue but I knew it had to be done. My artificial faith in his ways needed to be terrifyingly clear if I were to be trusted by this...this creature. His grin created hot bile that rose through my chest and I did everything but try to swallow in fear that my courage would disappear with the sickness.
When I opened my eyes, a darkness surrounded me. "I say my child," his cold breath filtered through the air, "a powerful mind can be far worse than power in strength and number. You have devoted wizards who speak well on your behalf, yet your parents were blood thirsty traitors. In what regards do you lay?" The questioning wasn't over. I gulped, quickly trying to find an answer. Finally, it dawned on me.
"I lay where the knowledge holds truer and more pure than anything touched by an unclean hand." I held by breath as Voldemort took a minute to let my words sink in. I knew he thought I spoke of my pure blood and the unholiness of the tainted, however he knew little of what I really meant.
"Spoken as a true scholar," he smirked as he skimmed the table with his approaching glare, dismissing my presence. I could finally feel by body release. "We have gotten far with our resources but it does not excuse the fact that we have not secured our hold on the ministry. I want the Minister in my grasps."
"Sir, if I may interject," Bellatrix's comrade stated boldly. "I did manage to over hear that Scrimgeour has a meeting at some ridiculous new office, headed by none other than that nasty rat Weasley this morning." He scoffed but Voldemort was quick to wipe it off his face.
"Then why are you imbeciles still here? Yaxley, take Amycus and Rookwood. Don't come back empty handed." Before I could comprehend the lot, the three apparated before our eyes in a thick cloud of smoke. "Lucius, help me take this excuse of a man down to the cellar." Voldemort commanded.
"And I sir?" The voice squeaked from the shadows.
"Ah yes, Bella. Well, my pet, you shall enjoy the best part of it all." The crazed witch squealed with happiness as she quickly jumped into the air and followed the other men to the cellar door.
As the death eaters left one by one, I soon found myself sitting with the rest of the Malfoy family. Draco and I both sensed the potential awkwardness and he made the immediate move, leaving me alone with his mother. I did not have the guts to address her, especially after her last accusation of me stealing her belongings. which I still had, mind you. I glanced over at the statuesque woman to meet her cold stare before getting up to leave. I had to get out of here.
Draco had almost made it all the way to his bedroom before I caught up with him. His life-saving words of affirmation hit me as soon as he had left. He turned in alarm when I panted his name, not suspecting me to follow. For moments, he waited patiently for me to speak (expecting something harsh since our confrontation the morning prior, no doubt) but I suddenly couldn't find words. The air around us seemed to dissipate into a thin cloud of calm. The once recent fear left my body, creating a hole for him to crawl into. We stood, looking at each other without anger for the first time since our arrival. And, to tell you the truth, it felt relieving. I thought I could never face him calmly again after what he had done. But how could you forget THAT feeling? Damn, my conscious rang truth in my mind. In the heat of all of the frustration and anger towards Draco, had I really forgotten the bond we had created? He had just saved my ass in front of the most powerful wizard in the world. But he wanted to murder Dumbledore! I shouted back to myself. Ya, wouldn't you if your life was on the line? I ignored the thought all too well as it had crossed my mind in several instances since our last run in.
"Can I help you with something?" The boy finally said, breaking the argument between me and myself. I pushed myself to give my attention to the situation at hand.
"Why did you say those things about me?"
"What, to Voldemort?" I nodded, trying to push out his lingering glare. He took a deep breath before answering.
"Why not? He needs to know how much of an asset you are to his group."
"But I…." I started before he quickly spoke over me.
"But you are." He gave a stern look in my direction, forcing me to realize my mistake. I took a breath, attempting to clear my mind.
"Well…..erm….thanks," I murmured, finally admitting my defeat. Draco's body visibly relaxed at my words. He sighed heavily, releasing any tension that remained between us. His eyes felt cold upon my body as he stared intently.
"As much as you refuse to acknowledge, my feelings toward you have not faltered Lyra." I looked back up at him, his bright eyes captivating me. The hair on my neck stood on end as his words wrapped around my brain for a second time.
He still cares for you Lyra! Take the hints! The voice was blaring warning signs in big, clear letters. Except it wasn't in the direction I had been so fond of recently.
I sighed and closed my eyes. I had to face the inevitable. "Draco, can we talk?"
He raised his eyebrows in complete shock but quickly followed with an invitation into the privacy of his bedroom.
The room we proceeded to enter was not the same room I had remembered on my last visit. To my bemusement, there was nothing littering the floor this time around. Drawers were placed properly and pictures hung straight against the spotless silver walls. A variety of lanterns replaced the empty liquor bottles that had decorated his room so 'nicely' last time, giving the room a deep and dense glow.
As I heard the door shut behind us, my eyes trailed over the bed where Draco had burrowed back into. The large black 4-poster stood elegantly, masking the only mess in the room. On the fur throw lay piles of books of all sizes and lengths. He pushed a couple of books off the side of the bed to make room for me
"What is all this?" I asked, motioning towards the stacks.
"Have to keep myself occupied." I looked at his somewhat sorrowful expression. I poked around at a few of the titles awkwardly. Shit did I know about trying to stay occupied. I longed for an escape from this prison. Finally Draco broke the stiffness of the silence.
"This is complete and utter torture, Lyra."
"What are you talking about?" I tried to play off the question.
"This. Us. All of it. I don't think you know." I stared at him blankly. He made a daring move and scooted closer to me on the bed. I allowed him, hoping for a comprehensible explanation.
"I never wanted you to get mad, or hurt, but I know you did." Heat started to build again in my body as my mind stumbled over the mass amounts of memories from that evening.
"But you knew about it the entire time! Did it never once cross your mind how this would affect …. everything?!"
Draco's face distorted at my sudden anger and accusation. "Of course it did! It consumed almost every moment of my life for an entire year! It ate me alive knowing that I could lose you."
"And Dumbledore? You wanted that?"
He stared at me hotly. "No, I didn't say that… necessarily."
"So then why didn't you stop it," I growled. I could feel my face flushing with frustration. Draco took in a deep breath before answering in a stern voice.
"I've told you why. It wasn't a thought when I first started. I was asked to perform this task before we even ran into each other on the train that night." Draco's eyes shifted. "It was right after my father's trial and I got this." He extended his arm, revealing the dark ink and scars that ran down the length. "Don't you see? It was the best option for me and my family and if I had done this properly, we would all be one of the highest ranked in the regime. My father's mistake would've been forgiven. It wouldn't be like this at all."
"But you're father is a free man. You got what you wanted"
Draco scoffed. "Not nearly. Ridiculed, threatened, he is no where near a free man. None of us are. Quite the contrary really." His voice trailed off.
I hadn't even thought about how Voldemort would've taken Draco's failure into consideration. He hadn't finished the job as promised, giving the 'credit' to Snape. How did that change his status within the regime? From his reaction, not well. I crossed my arms and looked at him. This didn't change the facts of his actions.
"I know you think that I got away with no repercussions Lyra, but you are mistaken. Since we've been home, I've been locked away in here not being able to think clearly. I just found out I have trial next week that could result in me being contained for attempted murder at the age of seventeen. Seventeen, Lyra. It's not anything I imagined. And there's so much, so much …. death. Everywhere. It keeps me awake." He took a deep breath and hung his head. The blonde slowly started to trace the curve of the snake that lay on his skin, surrounding us in silence for a brief moment.
Secretly I had thought that he deserved it all. But I quickly retracted the thought as I stared at his slumped figure.
"It's hard," he breathed. "I miss what it felt like. I miss you" The words clung to my ears. I hated to admit it, but I missed him too. I missed us, without all of this shit. Draco raised his eyes at me intently, solidifying my regret.
"I don't expect you to forgive me but I wish you would. It's hard enough having everyone else look down upon you let alone the one you love."
It took a moment but within seconds the words slapped me across the face. My breath stopped. Love? Draco's soft eyes met mine and locked in place. I was swallowed in its frothy sea of grey and silver as his previous statement washed me away. He had captivated me, holding me hostage to my own feelings. Shit. What was I doing? I closed my eyes, shutting him out briefly, giving myself enough time to dismiss all restraints on my logic. I could never forget what Draco had done but….
My emotions broke the gates within seconds and as my eyes flung open, Draco grabbed ahold of my face and firmly pressed his lips to mine. I could feel the intensity of his weight shift into the kiss, dragging me back into a blanketed mess. Images of us flashed before me. Soon I could feel a fluttery gust of heartfelt warmth replacing the emptiness that had been lined with guilt, hatred and denial. I welcomed the comforting feeling as an old friend.
As our connection broke, I knew what had to be done. The journey wouldn't be easy but it was one I knew I had to take; one to save us both.
Author's note: Lyra has big things to consider in this chapter. Draco openly wore his emotions towards her on his sleeve, but is it sincere? What do you think? The Death Eater's are closing in on the Ministry (which is terrifying). It was fun to see a little bit on the inside how impatient/cruel Voldemort is, yet...creepy. I hope I portrayed those aspects of him. We learn a little bit about Yaxley (the unidentifiable man to Lyra) and Dawlish's relationship within this chapter. It is clear that they have had a past, both working in the Ministry-Yaxley before the first wizarding war. It will be useful information in the chapters to come, promise. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on the chapter! Please review and give suggestions :) xoxo