August 1995
Muggle London, England
Heathrow Airport
Draco was uncomfortable. He was surrounded by Muggles, he had arrived to the main terminal of the public airport in a horrible contraption called a taxi and he was, by his standards, embarrassingly under-dressed. He wanted only to collect his witch and get her to the train station in safety and comfort, which would likely be impossible because they had to take yet another bloody taxi.
He scanned the area anxiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of her raven hair, but he saw only flight officials and fattish looking businessmen. He sighed. If the glowing information boxes were to be believed, her plane had already landed. Where was she? He hated this place. It was loud, crowded and stunk of human sweat and gods know what else. He should charter her a plane in the future. She should never have to set foot in this horrid cesspool ever again.
"Excuse me, are you..." a voice said from behind him. He felt the pressure of a hand on his arm and spun around quickly to repel whichever stupid muggle had dared to touch him.
"Mine?" Lyra gasped, her eyes melting to pools of shimmering gold.
"Are you mine?" She repeated in a daze as she looked up at him in disbelief.
He couldn't control the huge smile that crept onto his face as he looked at her stunned expression. "Yeah, sweetheart. I think I am, actually."
She reached up to touch his face to make sure he was real. "What...how..." she sputtered, stepping in close to him.
"So eloquent," he teased, clicking his tongue.
She beamed at him and pulled him down by the neck for a kiss.
August 1995
Wizarding England
"I still can't believe you came to get me. I saw your hair in the crowd and was sure that I was dreaming," she chattered happily. "But it was you," she said in satisfaction as she snuggled deeper into his side.
They were taking a private train back to Scotland again, this time without the unwelcome presence of his father. They were alone and he had her all to himself. He desperately wanted to pass the time laying her down and showing her his new tricks, but he knew he couldn't just yet. He had to tell her. He was petrified. Of her wrath, of her rejection, but mostly of her sadness. He hated knowing that he'd hurt her...and he knew this would hurt her. He just hoped she could forgive him.
He shook the worried thoughts from his head and turned her around in his arms. He kissed her long and deep, just in case, he told himself. Just in case...
He pulled away reluctantly and took a calming breath. "Sweetheart," he said down to her in preamble.
"Baby," she replied in mock seriousness, a cute smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"I need to tell you something," he said meekly. He could feel his nerve starting to slip.
She furrowed her brow in concern. "Okay," she reassured him gently, leading him to the plush green bench along the window in the traincar. "Is everything okay? Family good?"
"Yes. They...we're all fine. But I..." he trailed off and roughly cleared his throat. "I...er...that is to say that I..." he sputtered.
"Baby, what is it? You're making me nervous," she said softly, grabbing his hands.
He inhaled hard. "I slept with someone," he admitted in a rush.
Lyra froze. "Oh," she replied dumbly. She felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She withdrew her hands and let them fall limply into her lap.
"No. It's not like that. It was a gift. I mean...she was a gift," he babbled mindlessly.
Her amber eyes widened in disbelief and he realized how horrible that must sound.
"She was an escort. Professional, very well compensated. In my family it's apparently a tradition of sorts for a fifteenth birthday," he tried to explain.
Lyra exploded off the bench and fled to the opposite side of the car. She faced the window, her back turned to him and tried not to hyperventilate.
He stood and approached her slowly. "Sweetheart, there wasn't anything romantic about it. It was really more...instructional than anything else, if you want to know."
"Why in God's name would I want to know?," She questioned coldly.
"Lyra," he breathed. "I tried to put it off, but she...this woman, she's close with my father and if he found out that we spent the weekend playing wizards chess there would have been hell to pay. I explained the situation to her, that I want to be with you but we're rarely together and she offered to walk me through how to do some things so I could treat you well when I saw you. It's really-"
"Don't you dare," she growled darkly, turning to him. "Don't you dare try to say that you fucked your father's whore for my benefit, you selfish thing."
He balked. Lyra was routinely foulmouthed, he thought it was cute, but she had never unleashed at him like that before. If it had been anyone else, he would have come back with fury. But she wasn't anyone else, and he swallowed his anger. He had to fight to steady his breath.
"Sweetheart-"
"I'm not your sweetheart," she cut him off, looking away.
His guts twisted. It hurt.
"We're not together. You're free to fuck whoever you want," she said thinly off into the ether, trying to force legitimacy into the hollow words. They felt wrong. Down to her soul they felt wrong. He was hers. She was his.
"You don't mean that," he replied. "I know I hurt you, I just..."
"Just what? Just didn't care? No, I get it. Remember Lyra, when daddy is around don't even speak unless you can pretend to be a rich, English twit," she bit out cynically. "I will always take a back seat to your father's approval. I guess doubly so if you can get laid in the process. Message received."
She was ruthless. If she'd been doing it to someone other than himself, he might have been impressed.
"I mean, you don't even understand what you're asking me to do right now, do you? Do you?! You essentially want me to thank you for fucking a prostitute because she taught you some cheap foreplay? You think I'm going to just lie down for you and let you..." she couldn't finish the sentence. She'd never been so mad in her whole life.
She stalked over to him and got in his face. "Do you want to know the worst thing about this? The thing that hurts the most?" She whispered to him.
He swallowed hard, but didn't break her gaze.
"If the tables were turned, if I had casually fucked someone, you wouldn't forgive me. You wouldn't even try. You'd call me a slut and then come up with a dozen different ways to break my heart, just because you could. Because you're a goddamned bully and a hypocrite," she said with tears quivering in her pretty eyes.
Draco looked away, but made no effort to defend himself. She was right, of course. He had proven that well enough last year when she'd told him about the idiot muggle she'd kissed and he tortured her for it.
"Tell me I'm wrong," she said up at him.
He shook his head.
Lyra's breath quickened in rage. "Say something. Say something that isn't an excuse," she pressed, stepping even closer to him.
Draco could feel the venom rising in his throat. He couldn't lose control. "You need to step back, love," he warned.
Lyra did not step back. Lyra didn't give a shit. "Fuck your temper. Say something, you coward," she hissed.
His jaw flexed involuntarily.
Lyra scoffed and turned to walk away.
"I love you," he told her suddenly, reaching out gently to grab her arm.
Everything happened very quickly after that. Lyra made a kind of angry roaring noise and then Draco was on the ground. He wasn't entirely sure, but he could swear that she had pulled him in and thrown his entire body over her hip and gracelessly on to the floor. He had little time for analysis though as Lyra pressed him further into the plush carpet with her foot dead center on his chest.
She was staring daggers down at him. She hadn't meant to body-check him, but he'd caught her off-guard by touching her and her newly acquired self-defense skills had set in automatically. Stepping on him, though...that was all her.
Draco closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around her calf, running his thumb along a narrow ribbon of exposed skin he found there. "I love you," he repeated. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."
Lyra scowled and pressed her shoe a bit harder onto his chest. "You. You are a very difficult person to love," she informed him.
He sighed sadly and closed his eyes. "I know, sweetheart. I know I am."
She released him from under her shoe and walked away. She plunked herself down on a couch and wept silently as she looked out onto the countryside.
August 1995
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Wizarding Scotland
Severus had been informed point blank by his daughter that she would not be practicing legitimacy with Malfoy at any point during this interval. Snape had plucked the reason why out of his head easily enough and decided to honor her wishes.
He had to admit, the information came as a bit of a relief to him. With any luck, Draco's indiscretion would be the end of their little romance and she would move on to someone closer to home, and more worthy of her. He split their sessions to keep them separated per her request. He was prepared to send they boy back to his parents estate in Wiltshire but decided to keep him and see if he'd made any progress with the Patronus charm. He had not. Pity...he would just have to pommel him with practice until he figured it out.
It was a warm day, so Lyra went up to the astronomy tower for some cool air. She took in the scenery, then laid out on the balcony and opened a book. She gave it her best shot, actually reading that is, but her mind kept wandering to Draco and all that had gone on. Her interval was almost half way gone already and she'd seen him maybe twice since that awful day on the train. She was so angry and she missed him every second. Nothing was worse than being near him and feeling like she couldn't touch him. It was awful.
Sucker for pain that she was, she also found herself thinking about this woman, this escort that he had...that they had...you know. Lyra figured that she was probably beautiful and charming and all that garbage and it made Lyra feel painfully insecure. She had wanted...had been planning to take things a bit further with Draco this visit and now it wasn't just her hurt feelings that held her back but also the notion that she couldn't possibly measure up now that he'd been with a woman like that.
She stayed out trying to relax until her stomach protested. She decided against appearing in the Great Hall for dinner in favor of tea and toast in her little kitchen, hoping to avoid him for a little while longer. She rounded the corner into the passageway that led to her rooms and saw a long pair of black clad legs sticking out on the ground outside her door. She sighed heavily but carried on. She would not allow him or one of his wounded little tantrums to drive her from her own space.
She walked over with as much confidence as she could muster and stared down at him. He didn't seem to notice her arrival. He was more pale than usual, his hair was mussed and he was staring down at his wand, which he held limply in his hands. She cocked her head in confusion and watched a tear drip from the end of his nose and disappear into the dark fabric of his trousers.
"Hey," she said tentatively.
His head snapped up. His eyes were rimmed with red and he looked almost green with sadness and exhaustion. He said nothing, but his chin quivered finely and he closed his eyes. He dropped his head back down and began to cry openly.
Lyra's heart constricted painfully in her chest. She'd never seen Draco cry before and it absolutely tore her apart. She knew he was a master manipulator and their unspoken rules of engagement specified that she would have to play it cool, but she didn't want to. She desperately wanted to hold him and make it stop.
She squatted down in front of him after a moment and signed heavily. "What happened?" She asked.
He shook his head and looked up at her miserably.
"Please," he whispered. "I won't speak, I won't even breathe if you don't want me to."
Lyra frowned.
"I...I need to be near you...just in the same room," he croaked before breaking into a sob.
An ocean welled in Lyra's eyes almost immediately and she looked away, narrowing her eyebrows seriously. She gave a single stern nod of her head and stood, uttering the password to open the door. She walked in without another glance at him, but heard him make a relieved little noise and scurry in behind her like a frightened animal. She made her way over to the cupboards so she could make tea.
He collapsed on the far end of the couch and resumed staring at his lap, eyes shedding silent tears.
She packed his tea with sugar and grabbed whatever sweets she could find lying about and wandered over to him. "The boggart, I assume. Patronus charm?" She guessed, shoving mug and candy into his cold hands.
"Something like that," he muttered softly. She was partially right. Snape had frozen him half to death sicking that bloody thing on him all week, but the rest of their session today had just been Snape talking to him. He told him that it was probably for the best what happened, since he and Lyra were an impossible match based on origin and status. He'd also reminded him that big changes were coming in the wizarding world, and change, while thrilling, could be dangerous for some. The old troll had been trying, in his way, to reassure him but had ended up crushing him to dust.
Draco understood the bit about the change well enough. After his birthday tryst with Olivia, his father had basically told him the same. Exciting things were happening and his family stood to benefit greatly if they played their part well. Draco wasn't sure what that part was exactly, but he figured his father knew the best way to position them for whatever was ahead. Until Snape had said it though, it hadn't occurred to him that the buzz stirring among his father's influential friends about the Dark Lord could affect his relationship with Lyra in any way, but now he wasn't sure. And would it be soon? Draco knew that they couldn't be together in any legitimate capacity long term, but he figured they'd cross that bridge when they came to it and now he worried that the bridge was much closer than he thought.
That notion, in addition to the work with the Boggart on top of the whole mess he'd already created left him a frazzled, broken mess by the time Snape had let him go. He stumbled from the potions classroom in a daze and collapsed outside her door.
Lyra cleared her throat. "You should drink your tea."
He snapped back to the present and complied. It was sweet as spun sugar.
Lyra settled on the opposite end of the couch and nibbled on a piece of toast. They sat in silence for a long time, sipping tea and staring into the fire, lost in their respective thoughts.
Once Draco felt strong enough to make the trek back down to his dorm, he stood. "Thank you for this. I can go now," he said thickly and made his way towards the door.
"Wait," Lyra protested from the couch. "That's it?"
Draco looked back at her, puzzled.
"I mean, you don't have anything else to say to me?" She questioned.
He looked around nervously. "I suppose I have some things..." he trailed off. He was afraid to do this now. He was too tired, too broken...too at risk of being painfully honest. He also knew though, that if she'd asked him instead to crawl on his belly and lick her feet he would do it. He would give her anything. He missed her every bloody second.
She waived her hand, indicating he should proceed.
He inhaled warily and plunged in. "I fucked around and did something I knew for a fact would hurt you. Tried telling myself it wasn't a big deal. It was just a 'learning opportunity, as if that would hurt you any less. I knew it wouldn't. You see, I'm not a very good person, sweetheart. I do wicked things all the time to get what I want. What I wanted from her was some experience and an easy way to connect with my father," Draco explained. "He doesn't like me very much and I wish he did. Maybe if I was more like him, stronger, more bold, he'd be less disappointed in me all the time."
Lyra frowned. She made to speak, but Draco cut her off.
"I know you can relate," he said, inferring her thoughts with precision. "The difference between your situation and mine is that you might bend yourself over backward to get a moment of validation from your father, but you would never bend another person backward for it, not even if it's what he wanted. I would," he explained sadly. "You're better than me, Black. You are. You're the best bloody thing there is, but I'm still just...me."
She wiped at her eyes.
"I love you, Lyra. I meant it. It wasn't a desperate lie to make you forgive me. I want you to forgive me, but I'll love you whether you do or not," he told her.
"I'm done," Lyra said quietly, shaking her head.
Draco leaned against the wall in despair.
"I'm done sharing. I don't care how far away you are, you can get a summer cottage on the fucking moon for all I care. You are mine. No more Pansies, no more escorts. I know what I said before and I don't care. You are a total bastard and you are mine. No exceptions," she said, rising from the couch, her eyes burning like embers.
Draco launched himself off the wall and had her in his arms in seconds.
She whimpered his name into his neck and he had never felt such relief in his whole life.
He made a choked sound with his throat and held her close. "Lyra," he breathed into her hair in disbelief. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Gods, I love you."
She nodded sheepishly, burrowing into him.
He squeezed her tighter, just to make sure she was real. She was still his. There was nothing better than that. Nothing he wanted more.