A/N: So sorry for the long unplanned hiatus! A lot of things in my life demanded my attention very suddenly and all at once. Things are calming down a bit now, and I've been getting back into writing again. I don't expect another long delay before the next chapter. Thanks to all of you for reading!
Tom wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. He had read before how exhausting legilimency could be, but this was the first time he had truly experienced it. He looked down at the lifeless form on the ground and cursed.
Tom felt along the wall as he walked toward the other side of the room, too weak to walk without assistance, before collapsing at the ground near Draco. He checked Draco's pulse the muggle way and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the thumping of a heartbeat.
Leaning up against the wall and mostly out of breath, Tom tried to plan his next course of action but could only think of how he needed to think clearer. Remembering where he was—across the hall from Slughorn's potions lab—he crawled, actually crawled, for the door. He opened it just a crack as he glanced outside the hallways. Clear.
He dragged himself to Slughorn's lab and pulled a bottle of strengthening solution. Luckily, Slughorn's organization left something to be desired and it was doubtful the bottle—one of at least ten—would be missed.
Tom downed the solution and felt the cobwebs in his brain start to lift, and the life return to his limbs. Instead of waiting to feel completely fine, Tom gingerly stood and made his way back to the hallway, his mind running a mile a minute. Hermione wanted to—Tom yanked himself from that line of thought as quickly as it had begun. There was no time. There was a passed out Draco and a suspicious headmaster to deal with first. And the diary.
Meanwhile, Hermione and Lyra were four butterbeers deep at the Hog's Head. Lyra had darted there when they arrived, insisting that shopping wouldn't take long.
"How did you get special permission?" Hermione finally asked, taking a big drink out of her butterbeer to keep up with her friend.
"I think Dumbledore feels bad for me." Lyra uttered a noise that sounded halfway between a chuckle and a scoff.
"Why would that be?"
"Remember how I said I wouldn't marry Lestrange?"
Hermione took in a sharp breath. "Yes."
Lyra just shook her head, exhaustion and defeat embedded in her features. "I was naïve. I thought that I could get a job at the Ministry to support myself while I get the Falcons off the ground. You know I have the second best marks in the class behind Riddle?"
"I didn't know," Hermione admitted in a soft voice. School had not been near the top of her priority list this year, and Lyra never showed off in class.
Lyra shrugged. "I thought it meant that I didn't have to follow the plans my parents set out for me, but I didn't get one interview. Not one."
"Why?" Hermione really hoped the answer wasn't unbridled sexism because she had no rich parents to marry her off.
"The Lestranges are well connected. My plans got back to Lestrange"—a furious expression crossed Lyra's expression so quickly it was nearly a twitch—"and he wasted no time telling his family, who made sure I didn't have any options other than bearing their heir."
"Lyra, I'm so sorry. I've been so involved with myself lately that I couldn't see that you were going through this. I want to be here for you, though."
Lyra nodded, not disputing Hermione's absence.
Hermione continued, "how did it get back to Lestrange?"
Lyra shook her head quickly, all of her usual serenity gone. "I can't say why he did it, but it was Todd." Her eyes began to water. "Other than having to marry Lestrange, the fact that he would do that… It feels like a thestral is standing on my chest. Merlin, it hurts, Hermione."
And that was all she was capable of saying as she buried her head on the table and her slight body wracked with sobs.
Hermione slid in the booth next to her and held her hand while her friend cried.
A little while later, the purpose of the trip became clear: Lyra needed to purchase a wedding dress.
"My sister-in-law wanted to choose, but I managed to convince my father that I should at least select my attire," Lyra explained as she ran her hand over a black lace and sequin dress.
Hermione had learned from the witches who ran the store that white was considered incredibly muggle—witches typically wore black or other dark hues.
Considering Lyra's penchant for loud colors, though, Hermione was surprised to see her interested in a black piece.
"I'll take it," Lyra announced as she levitated the black dress onto the counter.
"Don't you want to try it on, dear?" The shopkeeper asked in a kind voice.
"No need," Lyra responded. "Please charge it to the Lestrange account and send it to the Lovegood residence. I don't want it—I mean, I don't want to take it with me," Lyra corrected herself, seeming overwhelmed.
She didn't wait for the shopkeeper to respond as she swung open the door to leave. Hermione rushed after her.
"Shouldn't we go toward the carriages?"
"Now that we have completed our task, we can really drink," Lyra announced, her voice determined if not a little shaky from unshed tears.
After they ordered four shots of firewhisky—"no need to come right back," Lyra had explained—they settled in at a table and toasted to not being married yet.
"We've talked about me all day," Lyra noted, tracing the rim of her empty shotglass. "What happened to you and Tom, Hermione?"
"I fell out of love with him," Hermione answered with a forced shrug, hoping not to answer more questions.
"I can tell," Lyra commented. "But I don't understand it, not really."
"Me either," Hermione confessed. "I think he crossed a line and I just couldn't accept that."
"Well," Lyra said with a crooked smile, "if you two can't make it, I don't know who can."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione snapped, feeling defensive of her relationship with Draco.
"Drinking unicorn blood couldn't feel more unnatural than the two of you not together. It seemed like it was destiny," Lyra continued wistfully.
"Well, it wasn't. D—Abraxas and I are meant to be together."
Lyra nodded half-heartedly. "He seems desperate for you, for your approval." Lyra's eyes were glazed over, staring at the wall instead of her friend, and her voice was matter of fact. Hermione felt her blood pressure rising, and it wasn't only the alcohol.
"Are you saying he doesn't love me?" Hermione could hear the venom in her voice, and apparently Lyra could as well because she shifted backward in her seat, away from Hermione.
"That's not what I said. I don't mean to offend you. Just—"
"Just what?" Hermione asked in warning.
Lyra didn't respond, instead asking quietly, "Won't you take care of him? He's a wonderful person."
"Of course I'll take care of him," Hermione responded irritably. "We're very much in love."
"You're right," Lyra sighed, taking her second shot.
Tom had no choice—he had to disillusion Draco's barely breathing body and leave it behind while he found Lestrange. As there was no possibility Draco wouldn't be missed at dinner, Tom needed Lestrange to start mining his connections for immediate access to Polyjuice.
Luckily, his follower was exactly where he expected him to be: in the Common Room. He didn't have to approach Lestrange, though, because he turned to Tom in a panic and requested an audience.
Tom lacked the energy to be concerned, so he merely nodded and went up to their shared dorm room. Avery was there already.
"I don't mean to intrude, my Lord," Avery greeted him with his head hung low.
"Stay, Avery. This might concern you."
Lestrange wasted no time conveying the sources of his anxiety. "During the morning post, a letter came from Draco. The trouble is, I think Dumbledore saw me take it." It was clear to Tom now that a significant source of Lestrange's anxiety concerned Tom's reaction. Not feeling very charitable, Tom's face remained passive.
"Who was the note from, Lestrange?"
"Dumbledore. Confirming detention, my Lord."
Tom lost his cool. "Fuck," he cursed as he inadvertently sent Lestrange's desk flying across the room. He didn't have time for this; he needed to get back to Draco.
"Do you have any information on this, Avery?"
"No, my Lord," Avery's voice shook slightly with fear.
"Can you levitate a body? Do not lie."
"Yes, my Lord," Avery responded eagerly, clearly happy to be of use.
"Abraxas is passed out in the classroom across the hall from the Potions classroom, disillusioned," Tom explained flatly. "He failed me," Tom added for good measure. Once Avery saw the state "Abraxas" was in, he would be spurred by fear. "First, go across the hall and take healing potions from Slughorn's store—whatever looks like it might be useful, but don't take more than a quarter of any of his stock. He may be disorganized, but he is not entirely inept. After you collect the potions, levitate the body to the Room of Requirement where we've had our practices." Tom hesitated before continuing; he had kept the secret of the room for many years now, but it was necessary. "In order to activate the room, pass the space on the wall three times and think about what you need the room for. Once you're in, you can remove the disillusionment charm and begin healing him."
Avery nodded fiercely throughout Tom's entire explanation.
"Are my instructions clear?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Then go, rush without drawing attention to yourself." Avery took off, not needing any other prompting.
"Now," Tom said, turning to Lestrange. "As for this detention…"