Chapter 53
Lyra watched as little Joey stared blankly at the ceiling. She tended to be quiet unless needing something, even when someone played with her.
"Is it normal for Josephina to be so… impassive?"
All of her parenting books said otherwise. Josephina's behavior would suggest she was sick, but this was how Josephina always acted. It couldn't be that. Lyra leaned over her child, rubbing at the little girl's belly in an attempt to tickle her. For a moment she did not react, but then she began to kick, swirling her little arms in tiny, frustrated circles.
"She does seem to be a bit behind. Both you and Draco were smiling by two months old. Josephina is three and there's still no sign of it… but I'm sure everything is fine. Josephina must be a late bloomer. She may just be different from you and Draco. No two babies are the same, after all. The healer never mentioned anything, did he?"
Lyra shook her head. "He said she was healthy." Joey's check-up was soon. Hopefully the healer would be able to abate some of her worries.
"You're coming to dinner tonight, aren't you?"
"Of course, mother."
Lyra was leaving the baby with Warble, much to her own chagrin. Lyra planned for Josephina to be napping during the time she was at dinner with her parents and brother. All Warble would have to do was remain in the room, making sure nothing harmful happened to Joey. The house elf was under strict orders to not touch the young Flint unless she began to wail. Lyra didn't trust that house elf, not after she had seen it fly into a fanatic rage when Lyra had asked questions of her blood traitor aunt. She would not allow any accidents to happen to her child.
It would be the first time since the Dark Lord took over that she would be going back to Malfoy Manor. She had been avoiding the trip, especially since her father was there. She no longer felt the sting of his betrayal. She had Josephina, after all. At first Lyra had not been too optimistic about her pregnancy, but by the end she was pleased. Yes, it would have been better to have the child later in life, but there was nothing to do for it now.
Not to mention the fact that the Dark Lord and Aunt Bellatrix frequented the premises. She never wanted to be in the presence of the Dark Lord again, or her aunt for that matter. Bellatrix Lestrange was too unpredictable, too crazily insane, for Lyra to handle.
Lyra wrapped her arm around Marcus', waiting for him to apparate onto Malfoy grounds. They had both dressed nicely for this dinner. Draco was home for Christmas break. It would be wonderful to see him. He had never allowed her to see any of his scars from that wretched boy-who-lived. They were all on his torso from what mother said, and as such easy to hide.
Mother opened the front door graciously, gesturing for them to follow her to the dining room. Something was off though. She appeared to be nervous, her eyes darting around with barely muted panic.
"Is everything alright mother?"
Her mother's hand paused on the door knob, clenching it within whitened fist.
"Is it still only you, father, and Draco?"
Mother turned to her, surprise etched into her features. She mulled over something for a moment, but decided against whatever she had planned to say and instead opened the door wide for Lyra and Marcus.
"Sometimes things change, dear."
Whatever was in that dining room made Marcus' face tighten. She could feel the muscles of his arm tense against her before pulling her inside, revealing what had once been hidden.
The first strange thing she noticed was that father was not at the seat of power. He was on the left, where her mother normally presided. His face was pale and gaunt, his eyes having deep bags under them.
He looked horrible.
Draco did not appear to be much better. His skin tone had a pallid, grey undertone, his hair ruffled. He did look better than father though.
A mop of brown curls startled Lyra. The woman sat at the other end of the table next to a strange man Lyra had never seen before. He had lanky brown hair that shadowed his face, going all the way down to his neck. The scruff of a beard could be seen from the shadows of his face.
"Wonderful! Itty bitty Lyra has made it! I must admit during our last meeting I did not form a very high opinion of you," she simpered. "But I'm sure you will prove me wrong." Bellatrix Lestrange's eyes challenged Lyra's, and Lyra immediately backed down. There was no way she would confront her aunt against anything. Madness had a way of winning, especially one so gifted a witch as her aunt was said to be.
"Oh, I'm sorry dearie. This is my husband, Rudolphus Lestrange. It is a family dinner, after all."
"Am I to believe you count me as family?" a hollow voice from the other side of the table asked. The voice that sat at the other end next to Draco and father.
The playfulness fled from Bellatrix Lestrange's face. "Of course not, my lord. One would not presume such a thing. I am only your humble servant, to do with as you please."
This was Lyra's worst nightmare come to life. The people that frightened her most, all at one table in the farce of a family dinner. She forced herself to relax, showing none of her inner turmoil.
"My lord." Marcus bowed deeply. "How gracious you are to honor us with your presence."
After a moment Lyra followed suit, dipping into a low curtsy. Her eyes remained firmly planted on the ground, unwilling to go through what had happened to her last time in the Dark Lord's company.
Bellatrix cackled from her seat, clapping her hands together loudly. "So the little one does have manners. Although I suppose you're not so little anymore, are you? You're married, with a babe no less."
The Dark Lord turned to Lyra and Marcus, gesturing to the table as if it were his own. Like it was his house he was presiding over, and at this point it just might be. "Please, sit. Dinner will be served soon."
Lyra could not bring herself to move until Marcus gave her a slight yank. She glanced at him to see he was glaring at her and she hurried to follow suit.
"I must admit the fruition of your marriage has pleased me greatly," the Dark Lord admitted. "We need every pureblood possible in this day in age. We must build up what we have lost throughout the years."
The house elves began to pop in and out of the dining room, bringing out steaming food with efficiency.
"I can only hope there be more children from this union." There was a bit of warning, of danger that had laced throughout his tone. It wasn't a suggestion, but a command.
"Of course, my lord. We will do all that is needed to help create this world you are building," her husband promised.
The Dark Lord nodded. "You're a good wizard. You get what I need done without trouble. I trust in you when you tell me this."
Lyra managed to keep her face neutral, but she felt sickened. For the Dark Lord to compliment her husband… no, she didn't want to know what he did on his missions. Did not want to imagine it. She would continue on her endeavor of protecting her daughter and feigning that they were a normal family. That Marcus didn't go off to do the Dark Lord's bidding and come back with bloodied palms from his work. Just because Lyra could not see the coppery red drip every time he came back did not mean it was not there.
"Lyra! You have not eaten anything! Are you not hungry? We made this big feast and for you not to eat anything…" A teasing glimmer sat in her aunt's eyes, one filled with maliciousness and decadence.
Lyra scooped a paltry amount of vegetables on her spoon, forcing herself to swallow. She would not bring her eyes towards the Dark Lord. Her aunt was one thing, but he was something else entirely.
"You've done well with this one Lucius," he said pointing to her. "You've engrained such loyalty in her that even when she is against everything we believe in she would not go against you." His words had startled Lyra enough to glance his way. He was giving her a mocking smile, raising his glass to her. "I'll have to ask you how you did it Lucius. Such training could only benefit in the preparation of future death eaters."
Her father was taken aback, but nodded quickly. "Of course, my lord. Whatever I can do to better serve you."
Aunt Bellatrix's eyes shifted back and forth in confusion.
"There was that recent mishap at the ministry. It does appear your training isn't without flaw," the Dark Lord mentioned in an off-handed way, his ruby red eyes taking them in carefully.
All of her family paused. They had avoided speaking of what Lyra had done at the ministry. Marcus had been angry when he found out, but when Lyra would not argue about it he dropped the subject. He could not understand why she would lower her family's worth by admitting to having a squib a few generations ago.
"I think she needs to be taught a lesson, my lord," Bellatrix simpered, staring at the Dark Lord with utter devotion. "Please, allow me to do it. I'll put my stubborn niece in her rightful place. Nothing would bring me more joy."
The Dark Lord delicately patted his lip-less mouth with a napkin. "I'm sure you would enjoy that Bellatrix, I do not doubt that. But that is not my plan for her." Lyra clenched her teeth, attempting to hide the tremble in her lips.
"No, what I want from Lyra Flint is pureblood children. I suppose I can allow one mudblood in this world so long as it does not populate. Perhaps we could make that girl your pet. You would enjoy that Lyra, wouldn't you?"
Lyra swallowed thickly. "Whatever my Lord desires."
She could see him lean back in his chair from her peripherals, his arms crossed in his lap. "Yes, whatever I desire."
Guest Comments:
Guest- Mary was asking if it was true that she was related to Lyra, and Lyra said yes. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. :)
