Thank you to Allie and the guest that reviewed last chapter!

Chapter 14

Imagine her shock when her brother, the self-proclaimed Prince of Slytherin, walked up to her that afternoon and sat next to her as she did her homework by the lake.

"Draco?"

He gave her a smile, if a bit hesitant one.

"Are you okay?" He eyed the tremor that sporadically hit her hand, arching a brow. "You just seem a bit… anxious."

She turned away."I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"But I am," she bit back.

He sighed, peering down into his lap. "If something's wrong you can tell me."

She glanced at him, taking in his troubled features. She went back to hastily writing her essay on mandrakes and their side effects on phoenix ashes. "Why would something be wrong?"

"Is someone bullying you? We could always tell father. That would put an end to it."

Lyra scowled. "That will accomplish nothing."

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "Father fixes everything."

"Father isn't always going to be there. Sometimes you have to work things out for yourself."

It was clear that the thought had never even entered her brother's mind, his face horrified and frightened by the idea. "But he'll be here for a long time, won't he?"

Lyra shrugged. "I'm sure Professor Trelawney knows."

Draco choked, nudging her with an elbow. "Git."

She grinned, a bit lethargic and drained smile but a smile none-the-less. It was strange, joking with her brother. It was such a rare occurrence. He was usually too preoccupied with the colors of her tie to make any sort of small talk with her in passing.

"Your betrothed pesters me all the time. He wants letters and updates and the whole works. He's ridiculously obsessed."

Lyra turned a light shade of pink.

"I know, he sends me letters too."

"He's not… unproper, is he?"

"Of course not!" she hurried out. "He's never done anything vulgar towards me."

"Not even hinted?"

"No! Merlin, why are you asking these questions?"

He looked away to stare at the lake. "No reason. I should go… Crabbe and Goyle get a bit lost without me."

"I bet," she muttered under her breath. She didn't have much hope for those two.

"You know, things would have been so different if you had ended up in Slytherin," her brother said as he walked away.

She gave him a weak grin. "I know."

She wasn't exactly sure how Colin had pulled her into this. She didn't even like Potter, let alone care about him enough to dedicate a whole Hogsmeade trip to him. But that's what she was doing.

Perhaps it was because both Ginny and Romilda had dates this weekend. Maybe it was because all Mary wanted to do was grab some candy at Honeydukes before heading back to study. All Lyra knew was she was stuck at The Three Broomsticks crowding around a dingy table with Colin and his brother as they attempted to change the 'Support Cedric Diggory' badges to 'Support Harry Potter.' All they had managed to do thus far was get rid of both slogans, leaving 'Potter Stinks" in its place. It amused Lyra to no end, but Dennis and Colin weren't as tickled.

"At least we turned the background from green to red," Lyra murmured, staring at her pin dejectedly.

"Slimey Slytherin's could do this, so can we!" Dennis said with vigor.

"Reparifarge!" she announced carefully, ignoring the small boy's quip. Her wand only made sparks: dull, copper colored ones.

"Lyra! What are you doing! We're trying to fix the badges, not change them back to what they were!" Colin cried.

"It's not like it worked anyways." She stared mutinously at the unchanged badge, poking it with her wand as if it were some strange, alien creature she was prodding.

"Probably because that's a sixth year spell," Colin said knowledgeably. Lyra only knew Professor McGonagall had said it when she changed Draco back from a ferret.

"Well I give up! Unless you're good at making up spells we might as well leave them be."

But Colin's foolish Gryffindor pride couldn't do that. She could see it in his eyes.

"I'm going to go Colin. Tell me if you ever get them to change." She left with a wave, downing her butterbeer as she went.

She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed, attempting to get some warmth into her arms. It was beginning to get chilly out.

"Hello!"

A voice with a thick accent called out. She glanced back to see one of the Durmstrang students walking towards her. A brow rose, and she checked behind her to make sure the foreigner was actually calling to her. He grinned winningly at her when he got to her.

"You are Lyra Malfoy, are you not?"

Her nose twitched.

"Yes?"

"I thought so. The blonde hair is a giveaway."

Lyra shuffled back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting for him to get to whatever he was trying to say to her. He smiled, this time more hesitantly.

"I thought to valk you to the castle, no?"

She gave him an odd look, but conceded. They began the trek up the hill to Hogwarts. She cleared her throat. "Is my father an associate of your own?"

"Yes. Our father's haff met many times."

Lyra was half tempted to ask him what he wanted straight out, but manors got the better of her. "Were you wanting to talk with my brother?"

"No."

"You wanted to talk with me?"

"Yes."

"Why?" she asked after a moment had passed. She watched him suspiciously from the peripherals of her eyes.

He gave her a grin, his teeth gleaming white. "I had to meet the Malfoy heiress. She vos said to haff renown beauty."

Her jaw clamped shut and she blushed, looking anywhere but at him as she stuffed her fist in her coat. "I see you're quite the charmer."

"I can only be called that if it is working."

Lyra didn't answer, not willing to be pulled into whatever game he was playing. She did not know if he was friend or foe, or how important her father's alliance was with this Bulgarian's family.

"It is a shame about you and Flint," he said in an almost biting manner, filling in the gap.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"He is lucky to be betrothed to a girl like you. Certainly you feel the same vay?"

Her face became ice. This wasn't a friendly encounter, this was the political arena; where every action counted and words were finite. She donned the mask she had placed to the side for months, fighting any lingering color in her cheeks to arch a brow at him. He had been probing her, easing his way into her defenses before she even realized she needed to put them up. At Hogwarts it was easy to put your guard down. There was no one testing your boundaries here.

"It matters not what I think. In the end it is my father's decision," she answered demurely, a perfectly neutral purebred response.

"You must feel something about this; he looks like a troll."

Lyra forced herself to relax, keeping the pleasant expression on her face. How to redirect this, she thought to herself. "Certainly you are bethrothed too?"

He grinned, a full faced grin that could not be faked. "No. Ve are still looking."

"We?" Normally only the patriarch and sometimes the mother had say in this subject.

"My family is traditional, but my father allovs me some input."

"Anyone in mind?"

Lyra wasn't sure how it worked in Bulgaria, but by now most of the purebloods in Britain had been partnered off. There was even some whisperings of her brother finally getting a contract. She wasn't sure how valid it was, considering she never saw her brother throwing any kind of fit about it. All Lyra could hope was Parkinson was not that girl. She couldn't deal with having the pug-faced witch as a sister-in-law. Her personality wasn't the best either.

"I vill be honest. I was hoping to find a contract abroad, namely here."

Then everything began to add up. Lyra had been mistaken the whole time. The carefully placed words, the hidden agenda. This wasn't the political arena.

This was the prodding of a careful suitor.

Immediately her façade vanished and she stopped walking, staring at him hesitantly. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Since before I came to Hogwarts."

"Did my father tell you to do this?"

"No," he answered, his face open and unguarded. "I did this out of my own vishes."

She began to walk again. He kept in step with her, shortening his strides to hers. "You know I'm already betrothed. Why try?"

He sighed, staring up into the clear, cerulean blue sky. "It does not hurt. It is rare to break a betrothal, but not impossible."

She thought of Flint. Of his horrid posture and unappealing teeth. His coarse, straw-like hair and frowning face. Then she compared it to the boy next to her.

The Bulgarian was handsome, no one could deny that. He had a strong jaw and open eyes. He smiled. Throughout their whole conversation he had never stopped. His skin was tanned and his eyes a beautiful chocolate brown. He was close to six foot, more man than boy based on generous dusting of facial hair on his face. It looked as if he had missed a day or two of shaving.

Flint couldn't hope to match.

"I still do not know your name," she said finally.

"Branimir," he said warmly.

"Well Branimir, there are many purebloods here. Why attempt to woo me when there are prettier, older girls waiting for you."

"None so beautiful as you," he promised. "In the sunlight, your hair is like a halo; golden and feather light. You haff stunning bone structure, and tiny like a pureblood vife should be. Not to mention you haff lovely hands, a little obsession of mine," he said with a wink. "I vouldn't mind waiting for you. You vould be vorth it."

If she was all the above then why was he the first to notice her supposed beauty? Colin didn't count, he had some artistic obsession with her. Flint had been forced to look at her. She was his betrothed after all. Lyra knew she was beautiful, a Malfoy could be nothing else. But she was still human. The only logical answer was he was trying to charm her, which sadly did not work in his favor. She wasn't one to become a damsel over a few pretty words.

"There are still the Carrow sisters. Hestia is betrothed, but Flora is not. Flora is a fifth year too, much closer in age to you." They also happened to be cousins with Amycus and Alecto Carrow, two deviating monsters. But she wasn't going to mention that. "Then there's Parkinson… and Marilyn Ollivander! Last I heard they sent Marilyn to Beauxbaton. Mr. Ollivander married a French witch that all but demanded for their child to go there if rumors are true," she hurried out, catching his displeased expression.

"They are not vhat I had… hoped for."

"Millicent Bulstrode?" Not that she was a pureblood.

"Certainly not!"

"… Hannah Abbott?" She was running out of names. Even if the Abbott's no longer followed the pureblood ways at least they were neutral.

"I don't know hov' much clearer I can make it that I came for you."

She blinked vapidly, taking in his confidant stance. He wasn't one for shyness. Even after five minute she could tell this. "I am a pureblood Branimir. I follow our traditional ways. Even if I wanted to get rid of Flint, I wouldn't. My father has decided this for me and I would not fight him against it."

He immediately became incredulous. "You are saying you do not vant to be rid of him? You vouldn't even try?"

She turned a delicate shade of pink. "No."

"Vhy?"

And then it was expected for Lyra to make into words why she didn't mind her betrothal with Flint as much as she should. She always failed at this task, because in the end people would only stare at her like she was a wild banshee waiting in some dark corner to sneak off with their children to make a light meal of them.

"I think I'll keep it to myself. Makes me more of a mystery, doesn't it?"

He scratched at his shorn hair, disgruntled. "It does. But that does not stop the rest of the boys from trying. Durmstrang has set its eye on you. Many of us vish to take you back to the home country as our prize."

She turned his back to him, leaving with an airy laugh. "They can try."

Sometimes she should really keep her mouth shut.

I got writer's block really badly for the past two weeks, but I finally finished that chapter. This is why I write ahead haha.