Chapter 10: Crown of Flowers

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England

June 1987

Lyra Malfoy looked at the flowers that her sister, Arya, had spread before them on the blanket in the North-west garden of Malfoy Manor. It was a peaceful day. The sun was shining brightly and the morning chill had disappeared. It was not yet the hot weather of summer, but they were approaching the longest day of the year so soon enough they would suffer the blistering heat of summer weather. Days like this were to be truly cherished.

Lyra sighed as she picked up two of the flowers before her. She chose the rich red Carnelia flower and then a pure white Carnation and she slowly began peeling away their leaves. Once that was finished she swiftly and deftly began to manipulate the stems to twist and turn to her purpose. Once those two were woven together, she chose another Carnelia and proceeded to do the process again, weaving the new Carnelia with the white Carnation and the first Carnelia flower.

She smiled softly at Arya who sat before her weaving pink Peonies with white Carnations. Lyra swiftly surmised that Ayra's creation would be a gift for their sister Satyra. Their little sibling was greatly enamored of the pink Peonies that grew in this garden.

Usually the creation of flower crowns and jewelry was a relaxing experience, one that Lyra quite enjoyed. Yet today she could not quite find the peace she was searching for. Lyra's mind was troubled due to her lessons with both of her parents. Her father was teaching her about politics, about the weaknesses of the great families of Wizarding Europe, and etiquette and manners expected of her as the Malfoy Heiress. In turn her mother was teaching her about the histories of the Great Families of Wizarding Britain, social etiquette expected of a young lady born into such a noble and well established family, and social etiquette expected of her as the Malfoy Heiress.

Her parents were contradictory. Her father insisted on training her as though she were a male heir instead of a female one. Her mother was training her as though she were a female heiress, which of course she was. Her father wanted her to stand tall and proud and wearing arrogance like a cloak. Her mother wanted her to be elegant, graceful, and effect a demure façade to hide her true self from the world.

"Lyra, a male can get away with acting proud and arrogant. Many men will admire them and the ladies shall wonder what is hidden beneath that arrogance and pride." Narcissa had said to her just yesterday. "But a young lady who acts arrogant and proud will find herself without friends. She will be considered an ill-bred young lady. Aspersions shall be cast upon her name."

Lyra did not have to look far to know that her mother was correct. Her friend Pansy Parkinson, the Parkinson heiress, was an incredibly arrogant and proud girl. Many of their peers did not like Pansy and whispered rude things behind the girl's back. Lyra did not want to be treated the way that Pansy was treated.

Surely there must be some way to balance her father's desires for her to be a proud heir and her mother's truth that arrogant and proud behavior would lead her to ruin. She sighed again and glanced down at her hands. They twisted the last flower in place and she smiled as she stared at the red and white crown. She had the wildest idea suddenly that the white was wrong and instead she should have gone with a golden flower and then she giggled at her thoughts. It was an absurd thought really. Red and gold were Gryffindor colors and she knew perfectly well that she would never be sorted into that house. Her father would die of shame if she were to ever sort into any house other than Slytherin or Ravenclaw.

She was grateful that she would not be attending Hogwarts for another few years. She was not ready to go so far away from home yet. She would miss her parents, her grandsire, Dresden, Merit, Dobby, and the other house-elves. She was happy that the age was eleven when a child went away to the wizarding schools.

Lyra raised the flowered crown to her own head and placed the red and white flowers gently atop her silvery-blond hair. She smiled as she felt the weight settle upon her. "What do you think?"

Arya giggled as she stared at Lyra. "I think that you have an unnatural fascination with the color red." She said. "I also think that you have an unnatural fascination with mother's emeralds."

"Emeralds are very pretty." Lyra defended herself. "Besides, emerald green is a Slytherin color and you know that I am most likely going to be a Slytherin."

"With tutoring from Mother, Father, and Grandpapa I do not see how you could end up in any other house." Arya admitted to her sister.

Lyra smiled at this. "Jealous?" She asked of Arya.

Arya laughed then. "A bit." She admitted. "I do not receive tutoring from Father."

"You really do not want to." Lyra told her. "It is all so contradictory and confusing." She admitted for the first time to her twin sister. "He is training me as though I were a boy." She wrinkled her nose. "So I am learning how a man is supposed to act."

"But you are a girl." Arya protested. "Father does realize you are a girl doesn't he?"

Lyra laughed due to Arya's fearful curiosity. "Yes, father knows I am a girl." She soothed Arya. "But he has no male heir so he is raising me up as though I am a male but of course this will not work. The rules that apply to males do not apply to females."

"Certainly not." Arya said. "It is a…a… oh how did Dora say it?" Arya frowned as she struggled for the wording. "Oh yes. Double-standard. Dora says that it is a double-standard that males can get away with acting the way they do but women must be more amiable, elegant, enchanting, and demure."

Lyra nodded. She too had heard their cousin Nymphadora's rants about the inequality of the genders in the Wizarding World. Lyra was pretty sure that it was the same for the Muggles as well, though she could not as of yet prove it. One day she would though. She had no desire to be ignorant of Muggles. If they had the means to hurt Witches and Wizards then she wanted to know as much as she could about them.

'Know thy enemy.' As the teaching went.

"Mother tries to undo what Father teaches me." Lyra told Arya. "Truly, you do not want tutoring with Father lest it be politics. He is really quite interesting to listen to when he speaks of politics, unless you dislike politics of course. Then you would be terribly bored.

"I am not sure it is possible for a born Malfoy to dislike politics." Arya said with a laugh. "Even Satyra listens to Father in rapture when he rants about some bill or other being proposed in the Wizengamot."

Lyra nodded her head in understanding and then took up another red Carnelia to begin preparing for weaving. It was a few moments later that Lyra felt the shadow of her younger sister, Satyra, pass over her and then Satyra dropped to her knees on the blanket and pressed herself against Lyra's side. This was something Satyra often did when she sought comfort.

"Satyra, is something the matter?" Lyra asked politely of her youngest sibling.

Satyra whimpered slightly and then nodded her head, golden blond curls bounced with the movement.

Lyra placed the flower crown that she had been working on down gently to her left and looked to her little sister nestled against her right side. "What happened Satyra? Where do you hurt?" She asked in a gentle and coaxing tone of voice.

Satyra looked up at Lyra with big ice-blue eyes, their father's eyes, and she held up her finger for Lyra's inspection. "I was helping Mother with the roses but one of them stuck me." She said showing the wound to Lyra.

Lyra inspected the wound and was relieved to see that the thorn had not remained imbedded in Satyra's finger. She raised the finger gently to her lips and she whispered a spell that she had heard her Mother and their Nannies whisper countless times. The spell was to clean the wound. Then she whispered a healing charm that sealed the wound as though it never was. She placed a kiss to the spot when she was finished and smiled at her sister. "All better?" She asked of Satyra.

Satyra inspected her finger and slowly began to smile in wonder when she saw that she was truly healed. She giggled then and nodded her head, once more sending curls bouncing. "All better." She agreed.

"Good, because little Princesses should not be hurt." Arya said as she rose up on her knees and placed the crown of Pink Peonies upon Satyra's head. Though Lyra was no fan of pink Peonies herself, she had to admit that the shade did look pretty amongst her sister's golden curls.

Satyra touched the flowers with gentle finger tips and then she smiled brightly at Arya. "Thank you Arya." She said. "Can you teach me how to make one?"

"I don't know." Arya said to Satyra. "You are not the most patient of ladies and it does take a lot of patience Satyra."

"I can be patient." Satyra insisted.

Arya had a doubting expression on her face but she nodded her head. "Alright. We'll try again. It has been a year since the last time I attempted to teach you. Perhaps you have improved in patience since then."

Thus began a strange hour where Arya tried again and again to teach Satyra Malfoy how to braid flowers together to create a flower crown. It was strange to Lyra that Satyra could not seem to figure out how to do it herself, even after watching Arya slowly and confidently show her again and again.

Eventually Lyra chose to end the lesson by having Satyra prepare the flowers for them. Satyra seemed to enjoy peeling away the leaves from the stems. She placed the leaves into a pile off to the side as though they might be used for some other purpose later.

"Why are you saving the leaves?" Arya asked of Satyra.

"Because Uncle Severus says we are not to waste potions ingredients." Satyra proclaimed.

Lyra laughed aloud at that. "I am not sure that these leaves will be necessary in potions ingredients." She said to Satyra.

Satyra frowned in thought. "I think we should let uncle Sev decide that. He is the greatest Potions Master in the whole world." She reminded them.

Lyra smiled as she wondered how their Uncle Severus would react to hearing Satyra praise him so. "Alright." Lyra said and then she had an idea. "Merit." She called out the name of Satyra's personal house-elf.

"Mistress Lyra wishes to speak to Merit?" The house-elf asked.

"Yes. Merit, Satyra wishes to save these leaves for Master Severus Snape to examine. It is Satyra's hope that he may be able to use some of these as potions ingredients." She informed the little elf. "Would you please place a stasis charm on them and find a box to put them in so that they do not spoil until Master Snape may visit us once again?"

"Of course Mistress Lyra." Merit said and then smiled at Satyra. "I shall return with a box for Mistress Satyra and assist her in saving potions ingredients."

Satyra smiled at her house-elf in gratitude as it disappeared.

"That was a good idea Lyra." Arya said as she finished a final flower crown. She already wore a crown made up of lilacs. The crown she held in her hands was made up of Daffodils.

"For Mother?" Lyra asked of Arya as she stared from the crown back to her twin sister's face.

Arya nodded her head even as Merit returned with a box for the leaves. Lyra and Arya watched Merit and Satyra put the leaves in the box and they watched Merit cast a stasis charm over the leaves before closing the box.

"Merit, could you possibly cast a stasis spell over our flower crowns as well, so that we might keep them forever?" Satyra asked her elf.

"Of course Mistress Satyra." Merit said with a happy tone and eyes alight with happiness.

Lyra was often amazed at how happy most of the Malfoy House Elves were to serve. The majority of them showed fear toward her father but they showed deference bordering on adoration toward her mother, her sisters, and herself.

Satyra and Arya laughed when they felt the magic that Merit cast upon their crowns. Lyra held still and felt a sort of tingling where the crown rested upon her head and then it was gone. "Thank you Merit." Lyra said because she had been taught to be gracious. Her mother had ensured that she knew to say thank you, and that included thanking the servants for their good work.

"Come on, I want to give Mother her crown." Arya said as she arose and dusted excess flower stems and petals from her skirts. Lyra and Satyra arose as well and likewise dusted their skirts off before they followed Arya toward the stone patio where there mother was yet again attempting to arrange various flowers into a vase.

Lyra frowned at the combination of pinks, blues, and yellows that her mother was using. She felt the pinks were too vibrant. A carnation pink would be better. The blues were fine but the yellows were bordering on an orange and so not really a good combination with the other shades. Her mother was fabulous when it came to horticulture, but she was severely lacking when it came to picking out flowers for floral arrangements.

"Mother look what Arya made for you?" Satyra said in a raised voice, excited by the prospect of giving their mother a gift.

"Satyra, what have I told you about raising your voice?" Narcissa asked of her youngest daughter.

Satyra blushed and paused at the table's edge staring at the flowers that had yet to be placed in her mother's ghastly arrangement. "That young ladies do not raise their voices unless it is to call for aid in an emergency."

"Very good." Narcissa said as she placed two stems of green fluffy leaves into the vase. Then she turned her gaze to her girls. "Now what is this that you wished to see me about?"

"Arya made you a present." Satyra said in a gentler tone as though trying to act like the little lady that Narcissa was trying to turn her into.

"I see." Narcissa said with a smile. "And where is this present?" She asked politely.

"Here it is." Arya said with a giggle as she pulled the flower crown out from behind her back where she had been trying to hide it.

Lyra's eyes narrowed in confusion as she watched her mother's reactions. For a moment Narcissa Malfoy looked stricken but then she swiftly recovered and smiled at Arya.

"Why thank you my dear." Narcissa said and favored Arya with a kiss on the cheek. She kissed Satyra's forehead next. "Why don't you girls go inside and get washed up? Dinner is in an hour and a half."

"Of course Mother." Satyra said as she made for the door. Arya was swiftly following her.

Lyra watched them go but remained at her mother's side. "Mother." She began. "Did you not like the flower crown?" She asked. "Arya worked hard on it. We had Merit cast a spell upon it to keep it fresh forever."

Narcissa sighed. "Lyra, no. I love the crown and it was very thoughtful of Arya." She said gently. "I just, when I looked at the crown something else came to mind, that's all."

"What was it that came to mind?" Lyra wanted desperately to know because for that moment her mother had looked so very unsettled and sad.

"A dream that I had a long time ago." Narcissa admitted.

Dreams.

Lyra understood about dreams. She had vague dreams of an emerald eyed boy and of the color scarlet red. The scarlet red was why she liked the Carnelia flower that currently adorned her head. Those emerald eyes was why she preferred her mother's emeralds to any other stone that her mother owned.

Lyra reached for her mother's hand and squeezed it once in a show of support and then she turned away and walked calmly into the house. There was nothing for her to say to Narcissa, nothing that would ease the burden of dreams for her mother. She knew, because nothing eased her dreams. Not Arya's kind whispers in the dark or Dobby's trick of sneaking her snacks from the kitchen to soothe her. Her poor mother. She hoped that her mother did not dream often.