Chapter 38

She had secluded herself from everyone. She didn't know what to think anymore, what to do.

Marcus Flint was a Death Eater.

The words pained her so much, but they were true. She sent a letter back congratulating him, thanking him for the exquisite gift. She really didn't want to wear it, she knew what it represented. But it was so beautiful….

She seemed to have many weaknesses.

Thankfully, Colin had left her alone. He had since they held their last conversation. He finally understood what she had been trying to say all along. She wasn't sure if he accepted it, but for now he was giving her the space she desperately needed.

Katie Bell was the talk of the school. According to Romilda, Harry Potter had been there when Katie opened the cursed piece of jewelry. Katie Bell was a half-blood with what Lyra was almost certain were half-blood parents on both sides. There was nothing on the surface that would warrant an attack on her. It had the work of Death Eaters written all over it, considering it was a piece of jewelry inhibited with dark and ancient magic.

Lyra didn't like to think about it too much. The attacks were getting more blatant, and muggles were being attacked quite often. The Daily Prophet reported it enough. Every week there was a new one making headlines.

Romilda Vane and her flock of Harry Potter club friends were up to something, Lyra could tell. Every time someone came anywhere near them they would become silent, hiding coverless books beneath robes and papers. They would go back to whatever they were planning as soon as the person was a safe distance away.

Romilda had been odd lately, even for her. She was withdrawn, quiet, and more importantly not as clueless. She appeared to see too much these days, and that worried Lyra more than anything. Romilda didn't say anything about it, but Lyra could read between the lines. Hopefully Ginny would step in soon. She normally did, but then again Ginny was so wrapped up in Dean Thomas that she didn't notice much of anything lately.

"Your mother's owl is coming," Tracy observed.

Lyra gave her a soft nod, eyes shooting into the crowd of owls pelting down on them. The owl landed elegantly on the table, giving her a low, questioning hoot. Lyra cut up a piece of sausage, placing it in front of the bird. It reached down delicately to nibbling on the proffered meat, finally dropping the scroll.

My Beautiful Daughter,

I know I do not express it often, but I love you so very much. Everything I do is with the highest hopes that it is the best for you. Your pending marriage to Marcus Flint is one such thing. He is a good man, a very acceptable choice. He will always provide and take care of you. I have no worries about that. With this in mind, after corresponding with your father we have agreed to have you marriage moved up….

Her eyes blurred. She re-read the sentence, clutching the letter in tightened fists.

… we have agreed to have your marriage moved up to this Christmas Break. I know you were hoping for more time, but we feel this is for the best.

She took a shaky break in, reading the letter once again in disbelief. They had to mean next year during Christmas. It was a simple grammatical error. Lyra wasn't even seventeen yet. They wouldn't do that to her.

On December 20th you shall marry the Flint boy. Do not fret, your mother will work everything out for you, and next Hogsmeade trip we can go in search of a nice pair of wedding robes for you to wear. Only the best. I hope you can one day understand our decision. I end this letter with much love for you, never doubt that.

Love always,

Mother

She stared wordlessly at her mother's small, elegant scrawl. She tightened her fist until the paper ripped, and the feeling of helplessness made her want to scream and tremble all at once. She decided instead to shred her mother's carefully penned letter, gathering all the pieces up and marching further down the table where she threw them as hard as she could at Draco.

He blinked, a piece of paper dangling off his eyelashes before he brought a poised hand up to wipe it away. "To what do I owe this lovely visit, dear sister?"

"You knew."

He arched a questioning brow. "About what?"

"Mother's plan. Mother and father's plan to marry me off this Yule. You knew."

"Oh, that." He dropped a spoonful of sugar into his oatmeal. "Yes, I did."

She wanted to pummel him with her fist, take all her anger out on him. But she managed to control herself and demanded, "Do you agree?"

He gave a steady nod. "Yes."

She felt breathless all at once. She felt betrayed. She thought he would be able to understand her point of view. It wasn't fair, none of it was. Not only had she lost just about everything that had ever meant something to her, but she was being married off much sooner than she had ever imagined. It wasn't fair, and Lyra didn't care anymore. She didn't care about how she should wait until they were alone to discuss this, away from prying eyes and ears. She didn't concern herself about the fact that she was making a scene, appearing disgraceful and like a heathen as her mother would describe it.

She didn't care anymore.

"What do you mean you knew? I'm barely sixteen! How can you agree with this?" she asked incredulous.

Draco shrugged, eyes darting nervously to their growing audience. "You're very mature for your age." He paused, looking her over. "At least you usually are."

Her body shook with rage. "Draco!"

"Don't make a scene," he muttered, glaring at her.

Lyra laughed mockingly, the bitterness clear in her voice. "You think I care about appearances! It's always about appearances! I'm sick of it. I'm sick of everything!"

Draco finally lost patience with her, standing up to his full height towering over her with a snarl on his face. "If I had a choice between what mother and father have chosen for you and what I have to do, I'd choose your fate in a heartbeat."

His words pulled the breath out of her lungs. All at once the fury and rage and scorn abated until only defeat was left. "Why can't you ever be on my side?"

He calmly reached down to finish the rest of his oatmeal, shouldering his backpack before bringing his attention back to her. "Why can't you see that I am?"

"Miss Malfoy, that's quite enough of this little display," Professor McGonagall reprimanded. But all Lyra could see was her brother's back as he walked out of the Great Hall.

All of her resentment built up once more and she snarled at McGonagall. "You shut up you old hag! Draco, you come back here!"

There were several gasps around her, and Lyra could hear the professor's startled, indignant breaths behind her. She hurried out the door, searching for Draco. Possibly the only person who could understand this situation at all. "Draco!" she called out. "Draco! Come back right this instance!"

She couldn't see him anywhere, no matter which way she turned. "Miss Malfoy! Detention!" McGonagall called out, marching over to where she stood. "Do you think-"

Lyra ceased to listen. As if some teacher grumbling about something as supercilious as detention would stir her. She knew at once she had to get out of here. She had to leave, get away from everyone before she did something drastic.

Her heels clipped in the hallways as she strode to the great doors and pushed them open, striding over to the elegant black, metal fence that surrounded the Hogwarts perimeter. Currently it was guarded by Aurors. It had been that way since the beginning of this year when people started taking the threat of the Dark Lord seriously.

"I'm sorry Miss, but we can't let you go," one of them said stubbornly, wrapping a hand around her upper arm.

"You will unhand me," she hissed, violently ripping her arm out of his grasp. She was certain it hurt her more than it hurt him to do it, but that didn't particularly matter to her at this moment. "Move. You will move."

"I'm sorry Miss… I can tell you're having a bad day, but it's not safe for you out there. Let us do our job," the other pleaded with her.

She grinded her teeth, watching them deathly still. She couldn't take it anymore. She screeched as loud as she could, pulling off one of her heels and attempting to hit one of them with it. It only filled her with more ire when she missed, and the other shoe soon followed. "You will let me leave! I am from the ancient House of Malfoy and you are nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! I could destroy you!"

She could hear McGonagall behind her, but Lyra's own voice drowned out anything she may be saying.

"Let her go," a wizened, but strong voice said behind her. Despite its lower volume she could make it out clearly and became subdued. Lyra turned around, revealing the least likely person she expected: Albus Dumbledore.

"But Dumbledore," they went to argue, "it's not safe."

"She will be fine," he said certainly, holding her gaze. "Let her pass."

They were all silent, and for one horrible moment Lyra thought perhaps the Aurors wouldn't listen. But then there was a click, and the creak of metal behind her and she did not look back as she walked away.

She made her way barefoot and shaking to the Hog's Head and realized after coming in the building that she had no money on her. She rubbed her arms to get some warmth in them, eyeing the fireplace and well-stocked Floo powder. Her hand trembled as she reached into the glowing green powder, clenching her fist in it and throwing it in the fire once she got her nerve.

That dizzying feeling of weightlessness entered her. The warmth developed around her, and then just as suddenly it began it was over and she was spit out on a foreign rug next to an unfamiliar vase filled with hydrangeas. The air was warm, despite the early frost she could see out the window. As she stood up her head bumped the mantle place, pulling a wince out of her and forcing a porcelain figurine to crash onto the floor. She could hear footsteps upstairs, and a feminine voice call out to ask who it was.

A sense of doubt filled her. She wasn't sure what she was thinking doing this. That she would be welcomed with opened arms? Lyra had made dumb decisions before, but never one as horrible as this one. She hurried to grab another handful of Floo, stretching her arm back to throw it in.

"Who is it?"

She took an unsuspecting breath in, the powder falling out of her hand and onto the floor.

"Drop your wand. I know fifty-seven ways to curse you at this very moment," the person demanded in a stubborn voice, unshaken.

Lyra slowly reached into her pocket, dropping her wand and listening to it clack noisily on the floor before kicking it away.

"Now turn around."

She did so gradually, not wanting to alarm the person.

As Lyra slowly came into view, so did the person across the room holding the wand. The woman's eyes widened as she looked at Lyra, recognition lit in her eyes. It was the same for Lyra.

This woman very much so looked like Aunt Bella. But a kinder version, softer around the edges, with lighter brown hair than the pictures depicting her other aunt showed.

"Lyra? Lyra Malfoy? That can't be you, can it?"

Lyra stared wide eyed at the woman, swallowing thickly before giving an uneven, graceless nod.

Aunt Andromeda's wand slowly dropped and she let out a sigh. "Sweet heart, what happened to you? You look like you've been trudging through the bog infested amazon. I know what it looks like. Trust me, I've done it myself."

It was all it took for the tears to start.

Guest Comments:

Guest- You just went on a tangent on Voldemort haha but it is all true. I don't think hiding from Voldemort would work either, considering he was able to take over the ministry relatively easily. The Malfoy's would have been found easily, and if they had to live in squalor they would not have lasted. Perhaps Draco and Lyra, but not Lucius. Thank you for reviewing! I enjoyed reading the two reviews you left me!