Oh, I wish they didn't cut like a knife; I wish they didn't break you inside. I wish they didn't – bang bang – make you wanna run, yeah… I wish words were like little toy guns, no sting, no hurt no one; just a bang-bang rolling off your tongue. Yeah, no smoke, no bullets, no shock from the trigger when you pull it; no pain, no damage done… I wish words were like little toy guns. – Carrie Underwood, Little Toy Guns

December 17, 1978

Layla dry heaved into the toilet, hugging the cool sides, doing her best to force herself to stop. Moonlight leaked into the bathroom from the open door to the bedroom, the only subtle illumination in the room, as she tried to force the panic back down, tried to swallow the uncontrollable urge to wretch from fear. She didn't think Lucius had even stirred when she bolted awake, unable to tell the difference between the darkness of the bedroom from the darkness of the dungeon where the Snatchers had once kept her. The cold sweat soaking her to the bone felt like the blood that had coated her arm under torture, her stomach under the ice blade, her thighs during the miscarriage, and it sent her hurtling for the bathroom.

The heaving subsided into tremors, lingering in her struggle to take full breaths. Her nightmares, of her parents' murders, of Bellatrix's torture, had now adopted new traumas to torment her in her sleep, and she pushed the baby hairs stuck to her forehead by sweat back from her face. Only a nightmare; she struggled to reinforce that it was only a nightmare, but the image of a bloody, icy dead baby refused to leave her mind.

When she felt fairly certain that no vomit would actually come up, Layla eased away from the toilet, leaning her head back against the wall, flattening her hands on the chill marble floor, trying to remind herself that this was real, that she was ok, that she had survived. Over and over and over again, she had survived. She shivered against the wintry cold air, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

For a brief moment, she wished she could just stop feeling anything, that she could just turn it all off. Fear, anger, pain, love, joy; none of it seemed worth the experience anymore. Instead, her heart was a shredded bit of festering black stains on her soul, having destroyed herself for magic and the men she loved. She had gladly wrecked herself for the magic, the power, the love of two beautiful and caring men, and she wanted desperately to take it all back, to give all of it up to go back to being a sweet, innocent Muggle child with loving, living parents and family.

The sound of bare feet on the carpet of the bedroom caught her attention, and her eyes flicked to the door, where Lucius appeared a moment later. For a second, she thought he would turn some lights on, at least light some candles, but he didn't. Instead, he crossed the room to her, sank down to sit beside her, and wrapped his arms around her, embracing her tightly. "You weren't there when I woke up; I was worried," he muttered, nuzzling her hair.

"I'm sorry," Layla mumbled, her throat sore from wretching. She curled into him, craving his warmth against the cool of the night, her skin clammy. Lucius rubbed her arm, up and down, warming and soothing her with his touch, but even still, she couldn't stop shaking violently in his arms. "I couldn't sleep."

"You had a nightmare," Lucius said knowingly, and Layla didn't bother to deny it. It may have been a while since she had one this bad, but she knew Lucius had seen enough of them before that trying to lie about it was useless. "I had one, too," he said, his voice quiet and soft, as though not entirely comfortable admitting it.

His confession took her by surprise; Layla had honestly thought him too heartless, cold, and cruel to have fears or nightmares. She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and whispered, "Really?"

Lucius nodded, the tendons in his neck visibly tense as if struggling between continuing his admission or holding himself back. His fingers were gentle as he slowly worked them into her hair, fisting it loosely, as if clinging to her for security. Just when Layla thought he had decided not to divulge further, he said, "I often have this dream where I am too late or too weak to save you. And either the Dark Lord or the Order of the Phoenix takes you from me, tortures you, kills you in front of me. And I can do nothing but watch, and I have no choice but to witness the way I have failed you so miserably."

For a moment, Layla did not know what to say. She'd had no idea that he ever feared anything at all, much less… She reached up and touched his face, the stubble of his beard rough and prickly under her fingertips. "You've never failed me," she said, her voice raspy and hoarse.

Shuddering under her touch, Lucius's icy blue eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. "I did yesterday. I failed to protect you, and our child paid the price." Layla shivered as a chill went down her spine at the sheer despair in his voice. Maybe she had been wrong to believe that his feelings for her weren't real or strong. Maybe she'd been wrong to believe that she didn't feel anything real for him either. "And I have done horrible things to ensure that I never failed you in the past. And now… I've failed anyway."

"It wasn't your fault," Layla murmured, leaning into his touch as his thumb stroked her hair where his hand tangled in her hair. And she truly meant what she said. "I've done horrible things, too. For myself, for you, for… for Regulus. For us."

"I don't regret it," Lucius said, an edge to his words. "I don't regret protecting you at any cost. I only regret not being there to save you when you needed me."

"You still saved me," she reassured him, her fingers trailing down his neck to his chest, pressing the palm of her hand firmly against where she felt his heart beating. "I'm still here."

He still didn't look at her, as though making eye contact would have been too painful, would have made him feel too vulnerable. He stared off into the distance, blankly, as he muttered, "For how long, I wonder?" Layla stiffened in his arms, unsure what to say, so he went on. "I know something's wrong between us, dearest. I know… I know how much you love him. That perhaps I'm not enough. I would… I would understand if you intend to leave. Now that…"

Layla cut him off there. "It isn't like that," she protested, but the words felt weak and hollow.

A small, sardonic smile crept onto his face. "Isn't it?" Fear made Layla hesitate. If he truly had feelings for her, if he genuinely wanted to be with her for more than just sex, for more than just a sense of duty, for more than just ownership of her, for more than just an heir, could she really abandon him? Could she dare to trust him? If she told him the truth about the horcruxes, would he turn on her? And if he did, could she strike faster than him, obliviate him before he could turn his own wand to curse her in return? She wasn't sure. She took too long to evaluate the risks and answer him. He let out a breathy laugh, then said, his tone turning cold, "I thought so."

He started to rise, but she clung to him, one hand digging into his bare bicep, the other pressing harder against his chest. "No, wait," Layla pleaded, mustering her resolve. If he chose to betray her, if he chose the Dark Lord over her, she would just have to be faster, be smarter; she would just have to find another new way to survive. "I admit that I'm having an affair with Regulus, that I've been sleeping with him. Well, slept with him once, anyway. After I was already pregnant with our baby."

Lucius went rigid, and his face turned hard. "I don't want or need to hear this, darling."

"Please," Layla said, her fingernails digging into his skin sharply as she struggled to keep him there. "I know I haven't been a very good wife or lover, even before we were married or engaged, and I'm sorry. I'm always rubbing him in your face, and it's wrong."

"Layla –"

"Just listen," she pressed, and he sat back against the wall with a heavy sigh, raising an eyebrow at her to go on. "But that's not… that's not what's between you and me. He's not the problem. I mean, he is, but it's…" Layla took a slow breath to steady herself, and Lucius waited patiently for what she wanted to say. "Ever since graduation, I've been hiding something from you, and it's… it's been weighing on me so heavily, and I just couldn't… I couldn't tell you. I was afraid to trust you; I'm still afraid to trust you. But I just… I can't keep it from you anymore. The Dark Lord, he's…"

Lucius's brows furrowed, concerned. "Has the Dark Lord been here while I was away? Did something happen?"

Shaking her head, Layla said, "No, no, it's nothing like that. He's… he's making horcruxes, Lucius."

For a minute, Lucius just stared at her, confused, but as he remembered the word and its meaning, understanding lit his eyes. "That's not possible," he said, slowly, deliberately. "I admit, he's very open about his search for immortality, but a horcrux…"

"No, horcruxes," Layla corrected, just as she'd had to correct Regulus. "Plural. He's made multiple." Dumbfounded, Lucius merely continued to stare at her. Layla shifted nervously, then admitted, "The diary he gave you… The one for our child and the Chamber of Secrets…"

Horror, sheer horror, took hold of Lucius's features. "No. No, it can't… You… It couldn't be…" But then a thought clicked in his head. "But it is, isn't it? You knew that diary, from the moment I brought it into our home, you knew… That's what you were holding back from me, why you were asking so many questions, why you were so afraid…"

"Yes," Layla whispered, unsure of herself. She could practically see Lucius teetering on the edge of a cliff, torn between his wife and his Dark Lord.

Then his eyes flashed, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "You're trying to steal them, destroy them. You're working for Dumbledore, aren't you?" Layla took too long to answer, fear locking down her voice in her throat. Lucius sighed heavily, dropping his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. "Of course, you are. I should have known; I should have seen it." For a few minutes, they sat there in tense silence, neither moving nor daring to break the silence. As Layla was calculating how much of a head start running for the bedroom she would need to be able to beat Lucius to her wand and obliviate him, he finally said, "This horcrux… the diary… would it have harmed our child to wield?"

The words stunned Layla; she finally realized that he had been turning it all over in his mind, weighing whether or not to rebel against the Dark Lord, not whether or not to kill her. She breathed, "Yes. When I saw it used as a child… it nearly killed the girl who was possessed by it."

A dark determination stoked a fire in Lucius's eyes. "Regulus Black is working with you on stealing these horcruxes, isn't he?" Layla nodded; there was no point in lying to him now. If Lucius forced her, she would defend herself; if he forced her, she would kill him for her survival and to protect Regulus from being handed over as a spy to the Dark Lord. Instead, Lucius sighed heavily, dragging a hand tiredly down his face. "That… honestly explains so much."

"What?"

"You trusted him more than me," Lucius said. Not a question.

"Yes," Layla acknowledged. Perhaps it was unfair, but it was the truth.

Taking a ragged breath, Lucius nodded, contemplating. Finally, he said, "I don't know what to do with this, Layla. The Dark Lord… his political goals for the wizarding world… I don't know."

Daring to say the name, Layla went for the throat. "Voldemort doesn't care for the wizarding world or the purebloods. He only cares for himself, his own immortality, and his own power. He's manipulating and using you, saying whatever will convince you to side with him. An egotistical, arrogant son of a bitch halfblood clinging to some scrap of false superiority via some ancient thin ancestral line…"

"Enough," Lucius growled, and Layla went still in his arms, like a rabbit hearing the call of a fox. He took a slow breath, then said, softening, "Please, enough, Layla. I need time to think."

"Is knowing that he would desire to use our child as a blood sacrifice to his own selfish rituals not enough reason to –"

Snapping, Lucius shoved Layla off him, not roughly, but enough that she fell back as he went to stand. "I said enough."

"Lucius –"

"Layla, please," he said, exhaustion filling him, as he turned back and looked down at her from where he now stood. "Give me time to process this. You have to understand that you are asking me to give up everything I know, believe, and stand for, for you. To risk both of our lives, for you. I am not your enemy here, but I need a little goddamn time to catch my breath." Her face softening, Layla nodded, accepting the hand he offered to help her to her feet. He hugged her, then kissed her forehead and whispered, "Please, let's just go back to bed and get some rest. We need it." Nodding again, Layla let him lead her back to bed, tuck her in, crawl in beside her, and cling to her tightly, eventually caving to the pull of the darkness and quiet of sleep.

December 20, 1978

Two days passed in near silence. With each day that passed, unchanging, Layla grew more and more anxious over what Lucius would decide to do with the information about the horcruxes and Layla and Regulus's desire to destroy them. But she didn't dare push him on it; not when he was still so obviously grieving the death of their child.

As far as the miscarriage went, well… Layla had crossed the line from grieved to relieved, if she were honest. Yes, she was absolutely still upset and sad, but… the relief overshadowed everything else. She knew she hadn't been ready for a child, and it was just such a weight off her shoulders to know that now, she didn't have to force herself to make it work. She no longer had to fear every day what fate awaited a child born into this cruel, unfair, and terrible war ripping apart wizarding society. She could just be young and enjoy her life for a while before eventually trying again. At least, she hoped that was how it would play out. Ignoring, of course, the horcrux issue and the war and the knife's edge she stood on with Lucius. Always ignoring.

On the third day home alone with Lucius, Regulus had sent an owl, full of apologies and sympathy and romance and promises, but after reading it, Layla shoved it in the drawer of her nightstand. She hadn't known what to say or do with it, not with how things stood just then, so she ignored it. Forever ignoring.

Hers was not the only owl to arrive that day. While the wolfhounds lounged lazily in front of the warmth of the fireplace, Layla read the book she'd bought at Remus's bookshop, and Lucius wrote back some Ministry official at his desk when the second owl of the day arrived, this time for Lucius. With a huff of annoyance at the interruption, he opened and read the letter as the owl flew back out the window. Layla ignored all of it, sucked deeply into her study of fae magic, until Lucius slammed the letter in his fist as hard as he could onto the desk and cursed, "FUCK!"

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Layla looked up from her book at him with wide eyes, much as his dogs did as they raised their heads and their ears and watched their master, who had his back to them all. Almost afraid of the answer, Layla asked, forcing her voice to remain soft and gentle and soothing, "What is it?"

Lucius leaned back, his head hanging back over his chair and his eyes closed, as he took a breath to steady himself. When he leaned forward again and opened his eyes, he answered, his voice betraying how frayed he felt inside, "My father has died in Germany." Blinking, Layla didn't process it right away, and when she did, she didn't know how to respond. Filling in the blanks of the silence, Lucius added, "Dragon Pox, apparently. He's being shipped home for a funeral and will be buried with Mother at Holy Trinity."

Recovering enough to form a reasonable response, Layla said, "I'm so sorry, Lucius." She hadn't really met Abraxas beyond the last holiday with the engagement announcement and then again at the wedding, but she had seen enough to know that Lucius truly admired and respected the man, that he emulated his father. It couldn't be easy on Lucius to lose his child and his father in the span of three days. "Can I do anything?"

Lucius sighed heavily, slouching in his chair. "No, everything's already being taken care of."

"What about you? Who's taking care of you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I don't need to be taken care of; I'm a wizard and a Malfoy. I can take care of myself."

Layla bit her lip to keep herself from laughing at how ridiculous that was. "You're still human, Lucius. Everyone needs someone to take care of them sometimes. Like how you take care of me." Lucius shook his head, his eyes dropping to the unfinished letter on his desk again. Persisting, Layla continued, "We need a break. It's been a hell of a week, and we're exhausted. We need to take a break and do something for ourselves."

Tossing his quill aside, Lucius turned back to her with an expression of measured curiosity. "Like what, darling?"

"I don't know. What do you enjoy doing?" Layla asked, closing her book and setting it aside on the nearby side table.

"You." The answer took Layla aback, and she must have made a face at it because Lucius laughed, the first time he'd laughed since the loss of the pregnancy. "Relax, darling; I know. I can wait for that." Her cheeks burning, Layla pressed a fist to her mouth, hiding behind it, just a little. Lucius stood from his chair and stretched his arms over his head, and at the glimpse of abs that his shirt offered her, Layla couldn't help but wish for a moment that the healers hadn't put a moratorium on their sex life. Admittedly, the man was… "Darling." Layla's eyes locked with his, full of amusement and satisfaction. "There you are," he teased as he regained her attention. "I asked if you wanted to go see a movie."

Layla shook her head, not believing the words she heard. "Come again?"

He crossed the room, planting his hands on the arms of her chair, pinning her to her seat, and leaning over her, a small smile on his face. "I was just thinking about the Muggle movies we went to see this time last year. I think I would like to do that with you again."

"Really?"

"Is it so surprising?"

"Yes, actually." Layla fiddled with the tie that hung from Lucius's neck; she wasn't sure the man believed in dressing down in any circumstances. "It's just… the whole Death Eater thing."

"I thought we were past that?"

"We are," Layla said quickly, glancing up at his face. His eyes weren't hurt, merely confused. "I just mean you seem to have gotten much more serious about that again since we got married, and I thought we weren't doing any Muggle things anymore."

"You haven't asked," Lucius reminded her, readjusting his fingers on the arms of the chair.

Layla gaped for a moment, then laughed a little. "I suppose I haven't."

"Then let's go."

"Ok."

December 26, 1978

The funeral for Lucius's father came and went, but something else was far more dominant in Layla's mind. Aside from the funeral at which he had been the portrait of a grieving pureblood son, every day since they'd gone to the movies – not an exaggeration, actually every day – they had spent at home, no Death Eaters, no family, no politicians, no Christmas parties, no pureblood socials. Not at Layla's request, but at Lucius's insistence. And every single day, Lucius had worn a Muggle band shirt and jeans. Jeans. She had only seen him wear Muggle clothes a handful of previous times, and even then, he had dressed up in designer suits and Italian shoes. Layla had genuinely believed she'd never see the day that Lucius Malfoy would wear jeans, a tee shirt, and trainers. She was torn between believing she was winning him away from the Death Eaters and believing that he was simply depressed or losing his grip. They were comfortable though, alone together, healing together in their quiet, delicate cocoon of solitude.

So when Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Antonin Dolohov, and Regulus showed up knocking at the front door, the Malfoys were surprised. Layla answered the door while Lucius quite literally bolted up the stairs to change out of the Muggle clothing; it wouldn't do for anyone but Layla to see him that way, apparently. "Where the hell have you two been?" Bellatrix whined as soon as Layla opened the door.

Layla didn't even invite them inside. "Bella, we've had a bit of a rough month, if you haven't noticed," she snapped, no longer as afraid of the older woman as she had once been. "Forgive us for taking a little time to grieve in privacy."

The fierceness in Layla died out a little when she met Regulus's gaze, his pain only just hidden behind his eyes. Taking a hesitant step toward her, he asked softly, "Are you ok?"

Layla swallowed, then nodded. Rabastan rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, very touching, Black. Layla, darling, where is your delightful husband before Black makes me vomit with that sickening display of affection?"

Regulus tried and failed to not flinch from Rabastan's words, but Layla just cut her eyes to Rabastan and deadpanned, "Cleaning himself up from a bit of Muggle filth he got on himself if you must know." Rabastan and Bellatrix practically bowled Layla over as they rushed to get inside the manor, curiosity peaked; the others followed them into the house at a more reasonable pace and degree of politeness. Layla rolled her eyes, internally relishing her tricky little play on words, as she called after them, "There's nothing left to share with you; sorry to disappoint."

Layla closed the front door behind the group of Death Eaters just as Lucius descended the stairs, the very picture of a perfect pureblood gentleman. He tugged lightly at the cuff of one of his sleeves, an eyebrow raised as he glanced at Bellatrix as if he found her distasteful. Which, admittedly, Layla knew he did. "What is all this, LeStrange?" he asked, not bothering to specify to which of the three LeStranges present the question was directed.

Rodolphus leaned against the wall, watching Bellatrix as if he, too, did not care for her rude and hyperactive behavior as she continued to stick her nose into every little decorative object lining the hallway. "The Dark Lord wants his lieutenant back in fighting shape," Rodolphus said, his voice low and deep. It nearly entranced Layla with its cadence; she thought it might have been the first time she'd actually ever heard the older LeStrange brother speak; a bass to Rabastan's baritone.

Lucius's eyes narrowed, not meeting Layla's curious gaze as she peeked over at her husband. "The Dark Lord's concern is unfounded, I'm afraid," Lucius said coolly as his slow pace brought him to the bottom of the staircase and into the main hall with the rest. "I am perfectly well and available for the Dark Lord's orders whenever he commands."

Bellatrix made a sound of disbelief, and Rabastan laughed his approval, as Dolohov and Rodolphus both stared with silent questions at Lucius. Regulus shifted closer to where Layla stood, offering his steadying presence without looking at her. Layla's focus didn't leave Lucius; she knew too well what a dangerous moment this was without adding the extra pressure of being too friendly with Regulus. Her husband still hadn't informed her if he had chosen between the Dark Lord and Layla, and she knew that tonight, with his first return to Death Eater society, he would surely have to choose at last. Dolohov said roughly, "Let's see it then. You and your wife, come out with us."

Layla bit back the urge to ask questions as Bellatrix offered up excitedly, "The Order has let slip their meeting place tonight. We're going to crash the party!"

Lucius cast his eyes over to Layla, and though nothing in his facial muscles changed, Layla could see the hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Stepping away from Regulus and toward the stairs, Layla answered, forcing her voice to be strong and steady when she felt anything but, "Of course; let me change into something more appropriate."

Bellatrix practically squealed with excitement as Layla climbed the stairs, Lucius right on her tail, ignoring the others' attempts to engage him in conversation. As soon as their bedroom door shut behind them, Lucius said firmly, "You do not have to do this, dearest. You are not a Death Eater."

"Yes, I do, because you are a Death Eater," Layla said impatiently, trading her casual Muggle clothes for the Death Eater fighting leathers and robes in her closet; an outfit provided ages ago by Lucius, as a just in case. She'd never needed to wear them before, so they remained clean and pristine. She held her mask in her hand, staring down at the fleck of blood that remained from its last use. "It's as you've said before; we have to be of one mind, one course of action. If the Dark Lord asks, we must obey, or at least seem to. You wanted revenge on the Order for the other day. So take it."

"What about you?" Lucius said, his voice low and tranquilizing as he slipped his arms around her waist from behind. "I know some of them are your friends; you're working for them for fuck's sake."

"Not them; just Dumbledore. None of them actually know anything about it," Layla corrected.

"Still."

"Still nothing," Layla said, leaning her head back on his shoulder. "I'm not refusing this when I know it will only get us in trouble with the Dark Lord and your Death Eaters, who are admittedly far more dangerous and cruel."

"Azkaban is far worse than anything we can do to you," Lucius said, brushing her hair from her eyes.

Layla shrugged. "I doubt that. And besides, even if the Order caught me, I'd never see the inside of Azkaban prison. I work for Dumbledore; he'll yank me right back out of Auror custody and drop me back on the streets to keep on task."

"How can you be so sure?"

Layla smiled a little, humorlessly, as she thought of the potions Professor Snape and his murderous double-cross of Albus Dumbledore, of all the years of favors and bail-outs Dumbledore had provided Snape only to receive a Killing Curse in the end for his troubles. "I've seen it happen before, with others who have done far worse things and perhaps weren't nearly as useful to Dumbledore," she said quietly.

With a nod, Lucius stepped away from her, rifling through the potions cabinet and coming away with a vial of Willow's Thorne. "Then take this, darling. No reason for you to have to suffer tonight. You may as well make this as easy on yourself as possible."

For a moment, Layla looked from the potion to her husband with suspicion, but at the genuine look of concern on Lucius's face, she accepted the potion and drank it without argument.

Xxxxx

"The Leaky Cauldron? They couldn't have been more creative than that?" Layla whispered from where she walked the Muggle street cautiously between Lucius and Regulus, her blown pupils and expression of distrust hidden behind her mask. The other Death Eaters strode ahead of them right up to the door as she continued, "This seems too easy; like it's a trap."

Regulus's hand brushed the small of her back for a mere second as Lucius answered quietly, "Trap or no, we're going in. The Dark Lord commands it. Are you ready?"

A dark, dreamy smile played at Layla's lips under her mask as her skin twitched and danced under Regulus's light touch, even as his hand slipped back to his side again. "Let's play," she murmured as Bellatrix launched the Dark Mark into the sky above London, Rodolphus kicking the front door open.

It was indeed a trap. An instant barrage of magical arrows flung themselves at the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, though an easy shield spell from Dolohov deflected all of them, not a single one finding their mark. Bellatrix threw a Blasting Curse inside, the explosion making contact with a table and giving the Death Eaters cover to get inside the door. Layla stepped inside and immediately was pulled down by Lucius behind a knocked-over table, and he ordered, "Stay here."

Before Layla could say anything, Lucius darted away, throwing his own curses into the fray. A glance at a nearby arrow on the floor showed a sickly green goo coating the weapon; poison. The Order of the Phoenix was not fucking around tonight. She dared to peek around the table at the Order, and damn if she didn't recognize quite a few faces. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Mad-Eye Moody, Frank Longbottom (who looked far too much like her old friend Neville for comfort), Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon… There was a surprisingly high number of her former classmates in the Order and still others that Layla was unfamiliar with. Then a blast of light came at her, and she quickly ducked back behind the table with a squeaked "Fuck!" The Death Eaters were certainly considerably outnumbered, and Layla was not a fan of their odds of victory.

Across the room from her, she spotted Regulus next to Rodolphus, hiding behind the bar, popping out to throw curses at his brother and his friends, saw a Stunning Spell from James barely miss Regulus's face, and watched him disappear again from the Order's view. With the Willow's Thorne, it almost didn't seem real, and Layla grinned, infected by Bellatrix's manic laughter from where she now dueled Sirius, the young Gryffindor shouting at her, "Come on; you can do better than that!"

Layla stepped out of cover just as Lucius faced off against Mad-Eye Moody with every intention to help her husband, but Dorcas stepped into her path. Unable to help with the wild giggle that escaped her, Layla taunted, "You don't want to fight me, mudblood."

Though her former roommate clearly didn't recognize her, the Ravenclaw's demeanor was absolutely bloodthirsty. "Oh, hell yes, I do," Dorcas snapped, throwing a Stunning Spell straight at Layla's throat. Layla whipped up a shield, shaking her head at the sheer irony that this time last year, this had been her only girlfriend, a truly good friend who she would have willingly fought the Death Eaters to defend, yet today, they would fight each other, intent to kill each other, with Layla donning full Death Eater attire and magic. Funny, how it didn't bother Layla as it should have anymore.

Layla blocked Dorcas's following two spells, each stronger than the last, a far better dueler than when they had last fought at each other's sides, but Layla had been studying too, learning new magics too, becoming stronger too. "Bellum Hadar," she hissed, and the magic flowed from her wand like viscous black ink, coating the floor between her and Dorcas. For a brief moment, nothing happened, and Dorcas raised her wand again, confident, smirking, ready to attack again rather than defend. Her mistake. Then, massive black tentacles rose from the ink, wrapping around Dorcas with more speed than the Ravenclaw had to react, bashing her to the floor and choking the life from her. Layla danced around the other woman as if she were no longer there, throwing a spell at Moody's back as he cornered Lucius and Dolohov. "Dissona Susurros."

A shiver went down Layla's spine when, as the spell caster, she heard distantly the dark, terrifying whispers of the night fae slipping inside Moody's mind, then the auror quite literally dropped his guard, only escaping a Killing Curse from Dolohov by the rescuing intervention of another Order member. Moody backed off, his mind no longer entirely his own, retreating toward Diagon Alley out the back door.

If Lucius disapproved of Layla's active participation in the fight, she didn't stick around long enough to notice. An almost matching pair of shouts caught her attention, and she turned to find Regulus a few meters away, clinging to his wand arm and on his knees under the attention of someone from Layla's Hogwarts class whose name she'd long forgotten. On the opposite side of the room, Bellatrix had Sirius on his back, writhing under the Cruciatus Curse, and for a brief second, Layla was back in the Department of Mysteries, and she hesitated, forgetting to which side she belonged, nearly moving to Sirius's rescue. But then the pained, angry hiss that escaped Regulus brought her back to the moment, and she moved. "Avada Kedavra!" The green light left her wand before she could process what she'd said, and the Hufflepuff woman collapsed to the floor, unblinking, unmoving, unseeing.

Regulus hurried to his feet, glancing disbelievingly between Layla and the body on the floor. Then there was no time to react further, and Remus's wand was in her face, and they traded stuns and shields in a rhythmic and familiar sway. Reality and her past blended again, and for a moment, she couldn't remember why her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was attacking her, why she was fighting, and she started to lower her wand, confusion overwhelming her. Remus threw another Stunning Spell at her, taking advantage as she dropped her defenses, but a shield protected her anyway. A shoulder jostled her right arm, and she heard Lucius snarl, "Focus, darling."

It all felt so backward that Layla actually laughed, a sound not so different from Bellatrix's familiar mad cackle, tapping the inside of her left arm with her wand, feeling the icky crawl of dark magic on her skin, and her body began to flicker and blur against the solidness of reality, and Remus's eyes widened as if to shout at her what the actual fuck. Her shape became inhuman, vibrating and quivering, shrinking and growing, twisting into various nightmarish fae creatures, the face of her mask only occasionally visible within the shapes, horrifying and confusing the Order members with eyes on her, Remus included. Then she darted away, spells missing her wildly as the Order members struggled to keep track of her body's actual location rather than the illusion of her bouncing physical boundaries.

Lucius followed her closely as he casually tossed a series of fiery bolts at the Order, forcing them away from himself and his wife. Layla grabbed Regulus by the injured shoulder as he struggled to shield himself with his good arm, ignoring his cry of pain, and forced her arm around his waist and threw his injured arm around her shoulder. In that same moment, the room clouded with a thick magical fog as Dolohov shouted to the other Death Eaters, "Scatter!" Layla held her wand hand out to Lucius as she heard multiple pops of disapparation, who took two attempts at the vibrating, blurred shadows of her before finding purchase on her wrist, and Layla disapparated, pulling the two men away with her in a black cloud of smoke.

The three plowed hard into the gates of Malfoy Manor, landing too close when she forgot she couldn't actually land inside the manor grounds. As soon as Regulus crashed to the ground, blood pouring freely from his injured arm, he vomited on the ground. A few feet away, another apparation pop sounded, as Layla knelt down to try to help Regulus, her illusion on her own appearance was released and faded, the definitions of her figure solidifying back into a proper human shape. "What the bloody hell do you lot think you're doing?" Bellatrix's voice had dropped the usual babyish effect, replaced by rage. Three more pops announced the arrival of Rabastan, Rodolphus, and Dolohov. "We could have taken them! We could have killed them all! And it would have been so very delicious."

"Enough, Bella," Rodolphus growled impatiently. "We were too outnumbered; by no means were we going to sacrifice the lives of the majority of the Dark Lord's most powerful servants to simply make a point to the Order."

Bellatrix snorted, turning on her husband. They continued to argue as Layla and Lucius dragged Regulus inside their home, leaving the others outside to stay or go as they pleased. Regulus whimpered and groaned the whole way inside, up the stairs, leaving a sickening blood trail behind them, until the Malfoys managed to lay him gently on their bedroom floor.

Layla sank to her knees beside Regulus, struggling to free him of the leather armor he wore, as Lucius rifled through the potion cabinet. She finally managed to strip him of his mask, robe, leather, and most of his shirt, gasping in horror as she exposed the wounds on his arm. Twisted around his arm, embedded deep into his flesh, were sharp crawling thorned vines still writhing and digging deeper and deeper into him, shredding what was left of his sleeve. Layla saw Regulus biting his lip to hold back his desire to scream, his breathing quick and shallow through his nose, and she sliced the remaining sleeve fabric away from his arm with her wand as Lucius crouched next to her, now maskless and free of his own armor, with his wand and a pair of potions. Layla looked over at Lucius, her voice weak as she said, "I don't know what to do."

"I've got him," Lucius reassured her, taking his wand to Regulus's arm. A piece of vine suddenly ripped free of Regulus's arm, and he shouted in pain as thorns as much as ten centimeters long unhooked from his bicep. The vine shot at Lucius, ready to latch onto him as well, but Lucius muttered a counter-curse, and the vine crumpled to ash from the tip, all around Regulus's arm, and to its other end. Regulus let out a large breath he'd been holding, the pain on his face immediately lessening.

Layla leaned back against the bed beside them and took off her mask at last, her head hanging back as she breathed out a sigh, the stress leaving her body and the vacuum left behind immediately filled with bliss. Regulus's eyes searched for her, but she stared at the ceiling instead, letting go of the need for control now that she knew Lucius had the situation in hand. "I'm sorry, Layla," Regulus said, his voice ragged, as though his throat was raw and aching.

Her head slowly dropped to one shoulder, meeting Regulus's gaze as Lucius slowly waved his wand across Regulus's injuries, mending the torn and mutilated flesh. Layla asked, her voice ringing as distant and detached in her ears, like it didn't come from her own throat, "What do you mean? What are you sorry for?"

Regulus hissed at the sting when Lucius followed his wand with a potion, dripping it from a dropper onto the remaining gashes and puncture wounds. Gritting his teeth, Regulus said tightly, "Not being stronger. You shouldn't have had to kill someone to protect me."

When she heard his reason, Layla couldn't help the manic little giggle that came from her. Regulus's eyes widened in surprise, raising his head from the floor to try to get a better look at her, and then Layla said, "I would kill anyone for you two. Anyone. Without question. And I won't feel a damn bit bad about it, either."

A small dark laugh came from Lucius, then he said, "Ignore her, Black. She's just high. She'll be in tears over it in a little bit."

Regulus dropped his head back to the floor, heaving a sigh as Lucius poured one last potion on Regulus's arm. Layla stuck her tongue out at the back of Lucius's head, pouting at her husband. "No, I won't. I'll kill the bloody Dark Lord too if he tries to hurt either of you."

"Layla!" Regulus gasped, panic filling his eyes as he tried to bolt up from the floor.

Lucius pinned him down, not quite done with healing Regulus. "Would you hold still, Black?" Lucius hissed, annoyance slipping into his tone.

When Regulus froze, his eyes still wild with fear for Layla's safety, Layla laughed lightly and said, "He knows, Regulus. About the horcruxes and me trying to steal them."

She'd thought the information would help him relax, but instead, his panic increased, and he snatched his wand from the floor with his off-hand and pointed it right in Lucius's face just as he closed up the last potion. Lucius looked at the wand, then down at Regulus, with disdain. "Interesting," Lucius sneered. "She didn't lie to me then. You're helping her. A blood traitor."

Regulus flinched a little at the words blood traitor, but he didn't back down from the older Death Eater even a centimeter. Layla rolled her eyes and said, "Stop antagonizing him, Lucius. It's not like we're not all on the same side here."

"What?" Regulus stared at Lucius as if he had sprouted antlers.

Lucius shot a look at Layla that she couldn't decipher. "I never agreed to that," Lucius warned, his voice low and threatening and… trembling just a little with a subtle hint of fear.

Shrugging, Layla said quietly, "You would've handed us over the moment the others showed up at the door if you weren't going to help us."

Lucius went to raise his hand and argue with her, but Regulus's wand in his face stilled him. "I told you before, Layla; I haven't decided anything. I need more time to think about it," Lucius said slowly, watching Regulus carefully.

"Why the hell did you tell him, Layla?" Regulus demanded, his glaring eyes never leaving the other man's face. "What happened to not trusting him?"

"Things," Layla drawled lazily, dropping her head back against the bed again. A deep, painful itch burned across her arm, and she yanked her sleeve up and scratched hard along the word scarred onto her skin.

In his best attempt to intimidate the older man, Regulus growled, "You betray her, and I'll fucking kill you, Malfoy."

Lucius snorted, not the least bit afraid of the younger man. "You don't have the stomach for it," he said dismissively and went to stand, only for Regulus to shove his wand hard under Lucius's chin, making Lucius hiss. Lucius's eyes flashed with fury. "You have an incredible amount of nerve, boy. Sleeping with my wife, threatening me in my own house after I just saved your ungrateful ass from that nasty little curse…" He paused, laughing with infernal amusement. "You're not really so different from your older brother as you pretend to be, are you, Black?"

"Shut up!" Regulus snapped, ready to hex Lucius if he dared to speak another word about him or his older brother.

"Ugh, enough, boys, honestly," Layla complained, still scratching at her arm as she began to feel something warm and sticky under her nails. Lucius's eyes cut to her, then dropped to her arm, and he sighed, extending a hand patiently to her. Ignoring the warning in Regulus's gaze, Layla scooted over and took Lucius's hand, letting him pull her closer. Lucius gently took Layla's wand, which was fisted in the hand that scratched at her arm, and Regulus's face fell as he realized she was now defenseless. He lowered his wand, and it occurred to Layla that Regulus was afraid of Lucius hurting her in order to hurt him. "He won't ever hurt me, Regulus. Please, just relax, both of you."

Lucius pulled Layla's hand away from her arm, tsking, and Layla looked down curiously at what caught her husband's attention. Apparently, she'd scratched the scars so hard that new scratches were now oozing blood there from the freshly broken skin. "Layla." Regulus's voice pulled her attention, and she looked up at him. There was so much confusion, fear, and pain in his eyes, despite the solid set of his jaw, but Layla, though steadily coming down from the Willow's Thorne, couldn't grasp what on earth there was to feel so much over. "What is this?"

Brow furrowing in confusion, Layla mulled the question over as Lucius steadily, with gentle fingers, held her arm, then dropped some of the earlier potion onto her arm. She hissed, recoiling with a whine, as it stung her arm, but Lucius's grip held her firm. In the wake of the small pain, it all hit her at once; not just the physical soreness and exhaustion from battle, but the emotional trauma, the terror, the guilt, the rage, all of it. Her whole body began to shake, and Lucius muttered softly, "There it is," as though he had expected this to happen at any moment.

Her eyes flickered back and forth between the two men; she didn't know what to do, who to cling to, who to rely on, who to cry to, who to love… Layla struggled not to curl in on herself as her breathing grew rapid and shallow, the panic setting in, but then Lucius touched her face and pulled her focus to him. Tears started to run down her face, and she shook her head, pleading, "Not yet; please, not yet." She wasn't entirely sure if she meant the potion wearing off or having to choose between them; she honestly wasn't ready for either.

Lucius didn't answer, just wrapped his arms around her and let her cry into his chest. Regulus watched it all with confusion and seemingly hatred for Lucius, but he said nothing either. Lucius rested his chin on the top of Layla's head, and said in a menacing tone, "Black, if you get her fucking caught or killed in this idiotic mission of yours… The Dark Lord will be the least of your fears."

Regulus's chin jutted out defiantly. "I'll die before I let anyone take her."

Layla felt Lucius stiffen around her, but he seemed to be weighing his next words carefully. When he finally spoke, his words were the last thing Layla expected him to say. "Listen to me very carefully, Black. The only reason I have not killed you is because of the pain it would cause my wife to lose you. Our lives would be dramatically simpler without you. Do not mistake my mercy for weakness. I am merely biding my time, quite graciously I might add, until she chooses me of her own volition. The very minute she decides she is tired of you –"

"Lucius!" Layla exclaimed, clutching at the leather covering his shirt.

Blonde hair obscuring part of his face, Lucius looked down at Layla with a strange, heartwrenching mix of hurt and unwavering devotion, and at that moment, they both knew. That he would fight for her, that he would kill for her, that he would live and breathe and die for her. That he would betray the Dark Lord and everyone and everything that he ever knew or believed or loved… all for her. His fingers reached for her face, then hesitated, holding back, waiting for the rejection he expected at any moment. Regulus merely watched with incredulity, pushing himself to sit upright at last, his dark hair sweat-drenched, clinging to his forehead. "Layla…" Both men spoke her name in the same breath.

One second, she was paralyzed by indecision; the next, she shoved Lucius away from her with a hard shoulder, struggling to her feet, and rushing away from both of them, tripping over her own two feet in the process. Her shoulder hit hard as she bounced off the doorframe painfully, ignoring it as she hurtled into the bathroom. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and was sick, again, again, and again. She could hear the two men in the other room arguing and snapping at each other, but she couldn't understand a word of it, too overwhelmed by the way her stomach churned and her lungs struggled to take in air. She couldn't breathe; she couldn't breathe; she couldn't breathe. Fuck, why couldn't she breathe? Then the world became still, and large, warm hands pulled her hair back a moment later. "Breathe, darling," Lucius whispered tenderly in her ear, his fingers fisting gently in her tangled curls. She heaved into the toilet once more, shuddering as her stomach empty what little was in it, and she began to take deep, solid breaths again, the cool, empty darkness of the bathroom soothing her clammy skin. He murmured, "There you are, darling. That's it."

When she had flushed the vomit away and dared to look away from the toilet, Lucius eased his grip to allow her to turn her head, and she saw Regulus leaning against the bathroom doorframe, watching her with worried eyes. Her gaze fell to the marble floor, shame and guilt burning through her veins. Not for the murder she'd just committed or the other crimes she had done in the name of survival and love, but for the way she'd fallen for them both, the way she loved them both, the way she'd lied to herself and twisted herself to justify that love, that greedy desire. And now… Now she didn't know how to make it all stop, how to escape, how to get free, how to survive…

Then Regulus shoved off the doorframe, muttering, "You know where to find me," before he turned and stalked away, recovering his belongings and leaving with the door slamming hard enough behind him to shake the walls. Layla flinched from the harsh sound, into Lucius's embrace.

He stroked her hair, hushing her with a variety of reassuring words she couldn't process, as he pulled her back into his lap, letting her sob into his shoulder, her tears mixing with the blood staining his leather armor. Eventually, Layla mumbled, "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to do this. Comfort me while I cry about being bit in the ass by my own choices, by the things I did to hurt you."

There was silence for a moment, then Lucius said quietly, "My being hurt doesn't negate you being hurt, too. Even if it were your fault."

"Don't pretend to not blame me," Layla argued half-heartedly, raising her head to look up at him with teary yet fierce eyes. "I know as well as you do that this is precisely my fault. It was my choice to sleep with him."

"Black could have said no," Lucius said, a subtle growl rumbling in his chest as he tightened his hold on her to keep her from pulling away from him. "He could have sent you home to me. He could have lied and said he felt nothing for you. He could have moved on and found someone else, anyone else. He could have kept his fucking hands to himself instead of constantly pulling at you, flirting with you, seducing you."

"He didn't –"

"The hell he didn't," Lucius snapped, one hand coming up to Layla's face, his fingers ghosting across her cheek as if he were afraid to hurt her further. "Don't think it's escaped my notice all this time. From the damn moment you met on my orders that he simply help you adjust to a new school. Every little coy smile, every little tender touch… Don't think it hasn't made me furious and absolutely sick to simply stand back and allow him to play with your heart and body, so much of it right in front of me."

"Lucius…"

He sighed heavily, releasing his grip on her and getting to his feet. "Do whatever it is you need to do, Layla," he said, his tired voice weighing heavily on both of them. "Whatever it is that you think you need to survive, to take care of yourself, to find peace… do that. I'm not going anywhere, no matter what." Without another word, Layla watched him walk away and disappear, closing their bedroom door softly behind him.