Chapter 29
She watched in the mirror as her mother curled the last piece of her white-blonde hair, placing it up in a beautiful, elaborate up-do when she had finished. Her mother leaned down to kiss her only daughter on the cheek, placing her hands comfortingly on Lyra's shoulders.
"You look so beautiful. You're becoming a woman before my very eyes."
Lyra knew her mother meant nothing harmful by her words, but they made Lyra uneasy. The closer she was to adulthood, the closer she was to marrying Flint. The Malfoys had never sat down as a family and decided when she would marry Marcus, but she had a feeling it wouldn't be much of a wait after her graduation date.
"Come, up," her mother demanded with amusement in her eyes, tugging at Lyra's hand lightly. "Your betrothed is waiting outside in the hall."
The pitter patter of butterflies fluttered about her belly but she only gave her mother a brave smile, not willing to show her inner turmoil.
They were having their annual Yule Ball. Only the most prestigious were invited. Mostly purebloods, but a few half-bloods too. Sometimes even the occasional muggleborn, if warranted. It was the first time she was expected to arrive with Flint as an implied couple. Her parents no longer viewed her as a child, which did not bode well for her.
Her mother pressed her palm into Lyra's lower back, pushing her lightly towards Marcus. Lyra tried to smile at him, but it felt like more of a grimace on her end.
Mother and father laced arms, both giving her a pleased nod before entering the ball room with cold but beautiful faces.
"Shall we?" he asked politely, gesturing her towards the door. She agreed softly, clutching his arm tighter than necessary. "Breathe," he said as the door opened revealing the blurred faces that blended seamlessly together. "This is new, but you'll be fine. You're a Malfoy."
It was all she needed to hear to don her mask, tilting her lips into a slightly pleasing expression and nodding to each guest she met eyes with. Her father was already meeting with fellow politicians, her mother appearing charming but distant. Draco was off pouting near the refreshments with Blaize Zabini and Theodore Nott, clearly unhappy about not being able to be announced with Pansy as Lyra had been with Marcus.
Marcus pulled her into a dance, a slow waltz that she had done so many times there was no thinking required on her part. Her eyes were about level with the tops of his shoulders without heels. With them she could easily see over them, watching the crowd around her.
"You have calmed some, yes?" Marcus asked after a moment, pulling back slightly so that he could look at her.
She brought her gaze to his, giving a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
"We only need to dance a few times to keep up appearances," he murmured.
It wasn't the dancing that she didn't like, it was the way people looked at her. As if they knew everything about her. Not everyone stared at her so. These select people mingled between the crowds, never quite gathering together. She couldn't figure out what they had heard about her for them to look at her in such a way. It wasn't the betrothal, it couldn't be. Her parents had officially announced her betrothal to Flint her first year at Hogwarts, although most knew she had indeed made a pact before that. Like most, they didn't know the exact details of it. Much like Lyra hadn't herself.
"Our fathers," Lyra began slowly. "Did they agree to a certain year for us to marry?"
"No, not exactly. They seemed to only have agreed to a betrothal."
Lyra breathed easier, lying her head gently upon his shoulder.
"Why have you been hanging out with that mudblood recently?"
Her calm mood vanished at once as her blood ran like molten lead, the fear gathering in her.
"Who? Mary Caldwell?" she asked fighting down an edge of hysteria. "I've always hung out with her. It was for the farce I've built at Hogwarts."
"No," he pressed. "I mean the other one. The boy in your grade. In Gryffindor."
She swallowed thickly.
"Which one? There's two."
"The one with a camera."
"I- I didn't realize I spent more time with him than normal. I'll make sure to remedy this upon my arrival at Hogwarts."
He gave her a disgruntled look but did not argue further about it. As soon as the dance ended she parted from him, giving Flint an uneasy smile before darting into the crowd. She reached for a nearby wine tray that was floating effortlessly in the air, downing it all in one gulp.
"Perhaps the Malfoys are changing," she heard a nearby feminine voice say. "Their daughter is a Gryffindor, and my boy says she's friends with muggleborns. I never thought I'd hear the day when someone said that a Malfoy could be friends with a muggleborn."
She took another glass, tipping it back in one go. She wiped her mouth with her wrist, making her way to the edge of the room and avoiding eveyone's gaze. It was too late for those things to matter. The whole reason she went into Gryffindor was for her father, but now he could never be prime minister. Not with him at the Dark Lord's every beck and whim. He was beginning to look disheveled, and her father never looked like that. At least his facial expressions never wavered. If it did she would be quite worried.
"It's disgusting, that girl of theirs. If she were mine I would have disowned her," a well-dressed gentleman muttered with a sneer. "She probably lies with that filth."
The men around him chuckled, not realizing the source of their amusement was right behind them. She needed fresh air, and time to think. Everything was getting to her, and she had a headache. The wine probably wasn't such a good idea, but if felt needed at the time.
Wine still seemed quintessential to her being, actually.
She walked out into the frosty darkness, little tuffs of snow hanging off the stone bannisters. Her mother had placed a warming charm on this area for the party. She always did, so Lyra did not feel the brunt of the cold too harshly.
The moon was a golden crescent, the stars its backdrop. The lake reflected the moon's rays, soaking them up and showcasing them beautifully. A smattering of trees lay near the pond, and closest to her a sleeping garden hidden by the white of accumulated snow. She couldn't help but think Colin would have loved to take a picture of this.
"You can't listen too much to them, my sweet. They'll always be saying something about you." Her mother's voice was calm, the clack of her heels loud in the silence of the night. "Even after you've changed your name people will think of you as a Malfoy. Your surname is too old, too powerful, for much else."
"I just needed some fresh air."
Her mother nodded, tilting her trademark red wine up to her ruby lips. "Your brother thinks the whole world is his fifth year Slytherin friends. He cannot see beyond and that there are so many more people. But it is no matter. He shall learn after Hogwarts that there is more to life than what is directly in front of your eyes." She turned to Lyra, her lips upturned. "It seems you've already learned this lesson, but then you usually do discover things like this faster than your brother. Don't tell him I said that."
Lyra laughed, the sound wispy and swallowed by stillness surrounding them.
"Don't wander too far tonight Lyra. You never know who you might run into," her mother warned. Something in her eyes has stilled, begging Lyra to catch onto the hidden meaning that lied there. Her mother was gone before Lyra could question her further.
She danced a few more times that night, just to be polite, before heading up to bed. These parties were more of a headache than anything. It was filled with people attempting to scrape their way up the social ladder. No one actually went to have fun. The Triwizard Ball was a new experience for her. Not many children attended the Malfoy Yule Ball, so as a child it was very lonely. Lyra only had Draco to talk to, and she never knew what mood he would be in back then. Sometimes he loved to play with her, other times he scorned the day she was born.
She rubbed at her head with a sigh, squeezing her shoulder to relax herself as she walked up the stairs to her room.
"Leaving so soon?"
She straightened her back immediately, turning around to respond to whoever it was that had called out to her. He was male, that was for certain, and he stuck to the shadows.
"I'm afraid I had to retire early," she said, squinting into the dark. "I have a headache."
He took a step forward, coming out just enough for the light to ghost a path across his nose.
Or rather, his lack of.
Lyra didn't have time for the sickening fear to hit her. As soon as their eyes connected she could feel him rifling through her thoughts, unable to pull her gaze away.
She was a traditional pureblood enthusiast, she thought to herself in panic. She believed in the Dark Lord's plight. Purebloods were supreme beings and mudbloods needed to be put in their proper place.
Colin.
She wanted to scream, cry out in anguish as he took that strain of thought and traced it to its source.
"My lord?" she heard her father ask.
She hadn't realized that he had moved from his previous spot in the shadows. Now he stood before her, his blood red eyes staring callously into her blue. She could not tell how long he had been pilfering through her thoughts. His hand held her chin in place, keeping their gazes locked. He searched for a moment longer, scraping his way violently across her memories, then finally let her go.
She fell to the floor, wrapping her arms across her chest and shaking. She had thought Moody and his Imperious curse on her had been the worst thing that could ever happen to her. She had been outrageously wrong. She felt dirty, unclean. As if no matter how much she scrubbed she could not get his noxious touch out of the threads of her mind. She hummed lightly, not high enough for anyone to hear, attempting to keep the fear away.
He knew.
The Dark Lord knew about Colin, her thoughts on blood purity, and so many other things. Her trembling increased, knowing at any moment this could be her last breath.
"My lord, is anything wrong?" her father asked anxiously.
The Dark Lord circled her like a vulture that had stripped away her overly complicated layers until only her true self laid prone before him.
"Lucius, I'm afraid your daughter isn't all you had hoped." Lyra couldn't bring herself to look up at either one of them. "She has such… traitorous... thoughts."
It seemed her father was just as voiceless as her, because he couldn't come up with a response.
"But I have nothing to worry about this one," he said, his voice like sandpaper on glass. It grated on her, bunching her shoulders into knots. It slithered across her like poison, scratching away until only raw and blemished skin remained. "She will never disobey you. Her blood is pure, of the finest breeding." He turned to her father. "She is to be married to the Flint boy, yes?"
"I, yes, my lord," he answered taken aback.
"Good. Very good. Keep it that way."
Her father swept down into a bow, getting his bearings. "I live to serve you."
The Dark Lord made a noise of agreement, stepping back into the piercing darkness. "This party has been very convenient for me Lucius. I've been able to scope out many possible prospects."
"I am glad, my lord," her father answered, closing the door behind them and dulling their voices to undiscernible tones she couldn't make out.
She took a deep breath in, crawling the rest of the way to the staircase and leaning her head against the wall, finally letting herself go. She cried so hard that her vision became water colors, blurred and seamlessly blended together.
Everyone was in danger and it was all because of her traitorous heart. She should have never listened to her father three years back, should have never agreed to his stupid little plans. What she should have done is be a good little Slytherin and not worry about how her father viewed her. It would have been better that way, because then she would have never become friends with a blood traitor or a mudblood. She would have hated muggleborn's, and never given them a chance to get underneath her skin and pierce their way in her heart.
"Lyra? What's wrong?" she heard her brother ask. A hand placed itself on her shoulder, warm and comforting.
A bunch of jumbled, inconsistent sounds was her answer. They could barely be considered syllables, truthfully. He sighed softly, mumbling under his breath about overemotional girls before helping her up and practically dragging her the rest of the way up the steps.
"That's it. Only one more step to go. There, you did it!" he said, the relief clear in his voice.
"Draco," she warbled out, clutching his expensively, pressed robes in her hands and crumpling them.
The Dark Lord knew.
He knew about Colin and the blood traitor Ginny Weasley; Mary Caldwell, the mudblood. Even Romilda, the half-blood that he barely considered allowed to frequent their world. He saw all of Lyra's secrets laid bare, all her friend's secrets. He saw her mask, and exactly how much of a forgery it was.
There was no hiding anymore. She might have just endangered everything she ever cared about. Even distancing herself from everyone would not fix it, not when he knew.
"Lyra, whatever it is everything will be okay. You'll go to sleep tonight and you'll dream wonderful dreams and when you wake up it will all be alright again," her brother promised, holding her tightly in her arms.
She let out another dry heave, the trembles wracking her body wild and unrestrained.
It could never be like that. That world had been violently seized from her. She had never felt so powerless in her life.
Guest Comments:
Guest: Who knows what's going to happen haha thanks for the review!
Allie- He doesn't care with Draco as long as it doesn't get out, although he wouldn't tear down the Flint betting ring if Lyra and Marcus had pre-marital sex. Now if Draco or Lyra got pregnant from it that would be a whole different story... basically their life would be over.
