"I slipped my hand under her skirt. I said don't worry; it's not gonna hurt. Oh, my reputation is kinda clouded with dirt. That's why she sleeps with one eye open at night." — Girl With One Eye, Florence and the Machine


September 30, 1997

The Snatcher behind Layla grabbed her ink black hair by the roots and yanked, pulling her head back and exposing the vulnerable skin of her pale neck. Layla hissed at the pain in her scalp as Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix LeStrange watched. "You're one of Potter's friends," Malfoy accused. "You were with those children in the Department of Mysteries."

"Where is Potter?" Bellatrix spat, more impatient than Malfoy.

Layla stayed silent until the Snatcher holding her hair pulled it again, shaking her head. She gasped, then said defiantly, "I don't know."

Bellatrix whipped her wand at Layla, hitting her in the chest with a Stinging Jinx. Layla squealed and tried to move away from the pain, but the Snatcher held her firmly in place. The group of Snatchers who had captured her several days earlier had kept her to themselves at first, deciding to have a little fun with this particular Muggleborn before turning her over to the Ministry of Magic. However, within a few hours of her imprisonment with the dementors at the Ministry, Layla had been taken to Malfoy Manor instead of Azkaban when someone noticed that her name appeared on the list of known Dumbledore's Army members. Now, she was facing down Bellatrix LeStrange and Lucius Malfoy, alone and terrified. "You're lying," Bellatrix purred. "He trusts you. You're part of his little army of babies. Where is your precious leader, mudblood? Where is Harry Potter?"

Before Layla could say a word, Bellatrix flicked her wand at the young girl again, placing her under the Cruciatus Curse. Layla screamed and writhed against the grip of the Snatcher, who forced her to continue standing. When Bellatrix finally released her, Layla gasped, "I don't know anything about Potter; I swear!"

"You filthy, lying little mudblood," Bellatrix sneered. The Death Eater lieutenant pulled a dagger from the belt at her waist. She delicately traced her way down Layla's neck with the tip of her knife as Layla whined and did her best not to move, fearful of the damage the slightest movement could cause. The knife cut the lightest of lines down her neck, missing her jugular and carotid veins, by sheer luck or design, Layla couldn't be sure. Bellatrix lightly pulled the knife down across Layla's collarbone, her shoulder, and her arm, tugging it against the girl's sweater, until the tip cut through the fabric and rested lightly against the skin of her left forearm. Bellatrix held Layla's arm under the tip of her dagger firmly as she asked again, "Where is that dirty halfblood, Potter?"

Layla said, terror replacing the defiance in her tone, "I don't know. I haven't heard from him since the end of last school year; I promise."

Bellatrix grinned at her. "I don't believe you," she hissed, then dug the blade into the skin and muscle of Layla's forearm. Shrieking, Layla struggled, but between Bellatrix's grip and the hold of the Snatcher, she couldn't escape from Bellatrix as the older witch carved up her arm. After what seemed like hours, Bellatrix removed the knife from Layla's destroyed flesh, and Layla sagged sobbing against the Snatcher, unable to hold herself on her feet any longer. "I'll ask this once more before I throw you into the dungeon with our resident werewolf to be eaten alive," Bellatrix said. "Where is Harry Potter?"

Weakly shaking her head, Layla cried, "I don't know. Please, I don't know anything!"

Bellatrix turned her wand on Layla again. "Liar!" she shrieked, hitting Layla with another Cruciatus Curse. Layla's screaming coincided with the tinkle of glass breaking, then everything around Layla faded, merging and twisting from what it was into something the same but somehow new.

When the world around Layla stabilized again, she fell to the floor in the same study of Malfoy Manor she'd previously been in, only now the fireplace was lit, and the room was full of bookshelves stuffed with books, along with antique furniture, rather than empty, gray, and dismal. Across from her in an armchair sat Draco Malfoy with a glass of wine and an open book, staring at her in complete shock as light from the setting sun streamed through the window. Layla weakly struggled to her feet as Malfoy exclaimed, "Who the bloody hell are you, and how did you get in here?"

Layla swayed on her feet as her arm bled profusely, dripping blood all over the Oriental rug on the floor. A large wolfhound lounging on the rug by the fireplace growled at her as she stumbled a few steps toward the closed door in a bid for escape, but Malfoy stood, setting the book and wine glass quickly on the side table next to his chair and rushing over to her. Layla screamed when Malfoy grabbed her by the upper arms, shrieking, "No, no, please! Let me go! I don't know anything! I swear I don't know anything!"

Malfoy struggled to hold onto Layla as she fought viciously against his hold. "What are you talking about?" Malfoy demanded. "You don't know anything about what? Who are you?" When Layla ignored his questions as he pulled her toward the sofa, screaming instead of answering, Malfoy snapped, "Stop the bloody caterwauling." Malfoy forced her to sit down on the sofa and knelt in front of her, Layla's shrieks ceasing at his tone of authority, but she glared at him with a look of such pure hatred that left Malfoy momentarily dumbfounded. "I'm not going to hurt you," Malfoy said after a moment's thought, more gently.

Suddenly realizing that the man in front of her had blue eyes instead of gray, Layla's eyes widened in horror as a certain realization dawned on her. "W-who are you?" she sputtered.

Malfoy frowned, watching her face intently for a minute, then began to examine her spasming, mutilated arm. "Lucius Malfoy. This is my home," he said. "Now, will you please tell me who you are and how you ended up in my house?"

Layla hissed as Malfoy waved his wand over her arm and began the process of healing her wounded forearm, making the damaged muscles in her arm itch and sting deep inside. "I don't know how I got here," Layla said quietly, dodging the other question about her identity as tears streamed down her face from the horrific burning pain in her arm. "I have to get out of here," Layla pleaded, hoping that the young Lucius Malfoy would be more easily fooled than his older self and allow her to leave. "My parents are expecting me to be in Hogsmeade for dinner. They won't be happy if I'm late."

As the trembling in Layla's arm began to subside somewhat, Malfoy snorted, "I doubt that is true."

"Why?" Layla asked quietly.

"First of all, you look as though you've been homeless for some time now. People who have parents who care about their whereabouts don't look like vagabonds," Malfoy said, using his wand to trace the knife wounds on her arm with another healing spell as Layla's muscles continued to stitch themselves back together. "Secondly, someone has clearly been torturing you. It's much more likely that you're a kidnap victim than a kid looking for her parents. I doubt anyone has any idea where you are. Why won't you tell me your name?" Malfoy asked, looking up at Layla's eyes, red from crying.

As exhaustion began to creep up on Layla, her adrenaline beginning to fade, she begged, "Please, I don't know how I got here, and I definitely do not want to be here. I just need to get back to Hogwarts. I'm supposed to be in my seventh year of school there; I'm a Ravenclaw. The professors there can help me find my parents again, ok? Please?"

Malfoy sighed. "Your name, dear. I just want your name. I'm not hurting you by keeping you here for a little while to heal your wounds."

Layla swallowed hard, then mumbled, "Layla. My name's Layla."

Huffing, Malfoy said, "What, do you not have a surname?"

"For now, no, I don't," Layla said bitterly.

"Fine," Malfoy said, contemplating something as he stopped the movement of his wand over her skin. The muscle was now completely healed, leaving only the skin damaged. The wolfhound by the fireplace groaned as he stood from the floor and moved to stand next to Malfoy, laying his head on his master's knee and whining as he stared at the stranger in the house. Under normal circumstances, Layla would have jumped at the chance to pet any dog, but not in her current situation. The slices on her arm oozed blood as Malfoy said, "I'm no healer. I'll have to take you to St. Mungo's to make sure the muscles and blood vessels have been healed correctly before I feel comfortable sealing the skin." Layla nodded as Malfoy watched her face intently. "Why would someone torture a child like yourself?"

Layla shrugged. "Some people are seriously twisted. Can we go to St. Mungo's now?"

Malfoy frowned. "Did Death Eaters kidnap you?"

Layla froze, then lied, "No. Just some sick git with no conscience."

Malfoy moved to sit next to her on the sofa. "How did you get in my house?"

Layla repeated, "I don't know."

"I don't believe that," Malfoy said calmly. "There are Anti-Apparition wards on this manor, so you couldn't have just popped into my study without some powerful magic."

"I don't even have my wand anymore," Layla argued. "How do you expect me to have performed such powerful magic?"

Malfoy shrugged. "That's for you to explain, not me."

Groaning, Layla said impatiently, "Can't I explain at St. Mungo's?"

"Who tortured you?"

"I don't know."

"What do you know then?" Malfoy snapped.

"I know that I need a mediwitch," Layla snapped back.

"Fine," Malfoy said, frustrated. He stood, and Layla followed suit. He offered her his arm, and she hesitated. Agitated, Malfoy said, "Merlin's beard, I'm not made of dark magic, dear. You won't die of contact poisoning if you touch me."

Layla flinched slightly at his tone, then accepted his arm. He walked her over to the fireplace, grabbed some Floo powder from on top of the mantelpiece, and tossed it into the flames. The fire turned green, and together, Malfoy and Layla stepped into the fireplace. The Floo System sucked them into its tunnels, and Layla lost her grip on Malfoy's arm as she tumbled out of the fireplace and into a St. Mungo's waiting room. Layla coughed from accidentally inhaling ash as Malfoy pulled her to her feet and patted her back. Once she could breathe again, Layla glared at him and snapped, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Why would I not be?" Malfoy asked, blonde eyebrows knitting together at her question.

Layla shook her head as a healer rushed to her side. "Nevermind," Layla said as the healer pulled her away to an exam room.


August 1977

Layla sat on the edge of her bed in St. Mungo's, desperately trying to figure out how in the world she was going to pay for a hospital room. The calendar at the nurse's station she'd walked past, or whatever the wizarding equivalent was, said that the year was 1977, and the shattered time turner Layla was slipping into the pocket of her skinny jeans was the obvious reason why she had suddenly found herself twenty years in the past. She certainly didn't have any friends, relatives, or money in this time period. She was completely clueless how she was going to survive without even so much as a wand as Malfoy entered the room and sat on the bed next to her. Layla ignored him in favor of lacing up her combat boots when she suddenly felt his fingers stroking the back of her neck, firm yet gentle. She stiffened under his touch and shut her eyes tight against the reality in front of her, disbelieving that Lucius Malfoy, the same man who had just been watching his sister-in-law torture her, was now twenty years younger and attempting to knead the corded tension from her neck muscles. "How are you feeling?"

Layla didn't open her eyes as she said bitterly, "Why do you care?"

Malfoy sighed. "I don't understand this impression of me that you seem to be laboring under. You seem to somehow know who I am and expect me to be the worst sort of villain. You're practically a child; you showed up in my house injured, tortured, in dire need of assistance. Why should I turn you away?"

"I'm not pureblood, and you know it," Layla mocked. "I know you Malfoys and your obsession with blood purity."

Malfoy chuckled. "I do believe you're mistaking the Malfoys for the Blacks. Our focus is considerably less on blood purity and more on attaining power. You, my dear, while quite rude, also appear to be a rather powerful witch if you were able to simply appear in my home out of thin air despite all the wards I have placed around it." Layla opened her eyes and looked at him, surprised. "I'd rather have you as an ally than an enemy, and based on the state you were in when you appeared, I'd say you're in desperate need of some allies right now."

Layla shook her head, and Malfoy's fingers drifted down to her shoulder. "I need to go back to Hogwarts in September," Layla said slowly, but once she had started speaking, the words came tumbling out, unbidden and uncontrolled. "But I've sort of lost track of time. I've no idea how I'm going to get new school uniforms or schoolbooks, and my wand is gone. I've lost my wand, and I don't have any money at all. I can't possibly afford to buy a new wand, let alone the rest, and —"

"Shh," Malfoy said soothingly, digging his fingers into her shoulder muscle in a gentle, calming rhythm that made Layla shiver with both relief and disgust. "Just relax. You must be exhausted. So confused and so alone, hmm?" He was right, of course; Layla's head was absolutely spinning. She'd never expected this sort of behavior out of Lucius Malfoy at any stage of his life, and she hadn't a clue how to react to it. "Don't you worry, dear. I'll cover your bills and make sure you have everything you need. You can live with me until the school year begins. Are you actually enrolled at Hogwarts for the upcoming school year?" Layla hesitated, then shook her head. "I'll take care of that as well, then," Malfoy said, his tone leaving no room for discussion. Layla tried to resist the relaxation that Malfoy's touch was bringing her tired muscles, but she had barely slept in days, and her eyelids were getting heavy. She struggled not to allow his self-assurance in his own ability to take care of her to cause her to feel safe and secure; she wasn't. She would never be safe with him, and she knew it, and yet… "Now, are you willing to return to the manor with me?" Malfoy asked, his voice forcing her to jerk suddenly, not having realized until that moment that she had started to fall asleep and had somehow ended up leaning against his side with her head on his broad shoulder.

Layla jumped away from Malfoy, launching to her feet to stand a good meter away from Malfoy before she dared to answer. "I don't want anything to do with Voldemort and the Death Eaters," Layla said firmly, staring pointedly at Malfoy's left arm.

Malfoy sighed. "As of now, no one other than the healers here is aware that you and I have ever met," Malfoy said. "For now, at least, it may stay that way, for a price."

Layla snorted. "What sort of price?" she scoffed.

"Your full name, for one," Malfoy said. "I also want to know how exactly you got into my house and why. I'm offering you protection from any enemies, coverage for all financial responsibilities, and a place to stay on all breaks from Hogwarts. Such luxuries for such little information, I'd say the price is rather low, wouldn't you agree?"

Layla squirmed nervously under Malfoy's intense gaze. Finally, she said, "Fine, all right. I'll tell you, but you have to take me somewhere safe where we can't be overheard first."

Malfoy grinned triumphantly. "Very well, then," he said. He extended his hand to her, and after a moment's hesitation, she accepted it. Malfoy disapparated, pulling Layla along with him, and the pair landed in front of the gates to Malfoy Manor. As Malfoy led her forward, not releasing her hand, the gates swung open for them to pass through, and closed behind them once they had. Once inside the house, Malfoy called, "Dobby!"

The house elf appeared in front of the pair, his large green eyes staring at Layla with curiosity. "Yes, Master?" Dobby said, bowing low in front of Malfoy.

"Prepare one of the guest rooms for this lovely lady," Malfoy said shortly. "The one closest to my bedroom."

"Yes, Master," Dobby said, then with a loud crack, the elf disapparated.

"Feel free to make use of the elf as much as you need to," Malfoy said as he led Layla from the foyer to the sitting room. "Now, tell me what I want to know."

Layla sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. "Layla Emerson. My name is Layla Emerson," she admitted. Malfoy tilted his head as he sat on a sofa and watched her with interest. When he said nothing, she continued, "I was wearing a time turner, and it broke while Bellatrix LeStrange was torturing me. Somehow that brought me here."

Malfoy looked momentarily stunned, then he nodded. "You really are a mudblood, then," he said, his tone giving away none of his thoughts on the subject, even if his terminology did. Layla nodded. "I see why you want to steer clear of the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. Bellatrix tortured you, you say? Narcissa Black's older sister?" Nodding again, Layla stood nervously in front of the young Lucius Malfoy, pulling at the torn and bloody sleeve of her Ravenclaw jumper. "I'm in negotiations to marry Miss Black, you know."

"I'm not surprised," Layla sniped. "You two make a nice couple. Your son was the bane of my existence throughout my childhood."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her, but when Layla didn't elaborate, he said, "Perhaps I can put those negotiations on the back burner until I've had the chance to reevaluate the connection." Layla was too surprised to say anything. "Will the Dark Lord be successful in his plans?"

Layla shrugged. "It seems so, as I've no immediate knowledge of his being defeated," she said, intentionally vague as she mimicked his formal tone, taunting him, out of habits developed regarding the future son he looked so much like more than anything else.

Malfoy watched her closely, eyes narrowed, then nodded. "Very well, then," he said simply. "Now, you are aware, I imagine, that I have already become a Death Eater?" Layla nodded, biting her lip in an effort not to say something that may anger the older man into changing his mind about not informing Voldemort about the time-traveling girl in his house. "Then you must be aware that I cannot leave them as long as the Dark Lord is in power. Eventually, he will notice your existence, Miss Layla Emerson. What shall be done with you then?"

"I don't know anything that would help him take power or keep it," Layla said slowly, unsure what Malfoy was expecting from her.

"Why was Bellatrix LeStrange torturing you?" Malfoy asked.

Layla hesitated, then lied, "She's Bellatrix LeStrange. She doesn't need a reason beyond my blood status."

Malfoy evaluated her statement for a moment, then sighed. "That's true enough. All right. I believe I am satisfied with the answers you've given me, for now at least. I'm sure with time, I'll have more questions, but for now, these were sufficient." Layla tried and failed to stifle a yawn as Malfoy stood and crossed the room to stand in front of her. "May I see your broken time turner?" Layla tiredly pulled the shattered time turner from her pocket and dropped it in Malfoy's open hand, suddenly too exhausted to argue or fight back. "Well, at least now I can be fairly certain that you're telling the truth about how you arrived here. We can discuss your new identity in this time period tomorrow. I would imagine that right now you need to eat and sleep so that you can begin to recover from this ordeal. Am I correct?"

When Malfoy waited for a reply, Layla mumbled, "Sleep. I really want to sleep."

Malfoy tucked a stray strand of black hair behind Layla's ear, sending a chill down her spine. "Then let me show you to your bedroom," Malfoy murmured. He turned and walked away, forcing Layla to hurry to follow. Too drained to keep track of the path they took, Layla ran into Malfoy's back when he suddenly stopped in front of her. He looked back at her with an arched eyebrow, and she felt her cheeks heat against her will. He placed a hand on the small of her back and ushered her into the room. The only detail about her surroundings that Layla absorbed in her sleep-deprived state was the king-sized black bed. She wavered, uncertainty and panic gripping her over whether she should really be trusting Lucius Malfoy, of all people, to not kill her in her sleep, but then he gently pushed her forward. She climbed onto the most comfortable bed she'd ever touched, collapsing on top of the covers as the weight of the world started to lift from her shoulders. She struggled to keep her eyes open as Malfoy pulled the blankets out of from under her and covered her with them. He said something to her that she couldn't understand, then she was dead asleep.


Layla bolted upright, screaming and flailing against the vice-like grip on her wrists. She shuddered from the dream — startling vivid, even as consciousness brought reality back. The fighting, the screaming, the icy clench of fear in her chest. Images of her parents being murdered, burning far too real and bright against her eyelids. Even as the memories and the sounds of her parents' screams faded, Layla's own screams dissolved into sobs. It was only then that she heard Malfoy's voice as he pulled her tightly to his chest, "Shh, shh. Now, now, dear. It's just a bad dream. It's all right. No one will touch you as long as you're here with me."

Try as she might, Layla couldn't stop crying or resist Malfoy's embrace. Malfoy continued to make soft, soothing comments until Layla gasped through the tears, "My parents… were murdered… in front of me… a couple weeks ago…"

Malfoy paused, then resumed gently rocking Layla back and forth. "I'm sorry," he murmured in her ear, smoothing her disheveled wavy hair with one hand.

Layla wrenched herself out of Malfoy's arms as she came back to herself. "Why are you here?" she snapped, scooting back against the pillows to put as much distance between herself and Malfoy as possible.

Frowning, Malfoy said quietly, "You woke me up with your screaming, so I came to check on you."

Layla finally noticed that Malfoy was shirtless, dressed in nothing but a pair of royal blue silk pajama pants. Her face turned bright red, and she glanced away from his face, only for her eyes to land on the Dark Mark, the black ink of the mark burning her eyes against the pale skin of his forearm. She flinched away from the Dark Mark and stared down at the black blankets and silver sheets that covered her lap. "I don't understand why I'm here," she admitted. "You're a Death Eater, and I'm Muggleborn."

"You have nowhere else to go," Malfoy reminded her. "You know no one here."

Layla nodded. "Professor Dumbledore should be the one helping me through this," she said firmly. "The Order of the Phoenix should be —"

"The Order of the Phoenix can't do anything for you," Malfoy sneered. "They'll just try to use you and your knowledge of the future to defeat the Dark Lord."

"I want him defeated," Layla snapped.

"I would expect nothing less from a mudblood like you," Malfoy retorted. "But I'm guessing that if you're from a future where Voldemort is in power enough that Bellatrix LeStrange was torturing you for no other reason than your blood status, you don't have any more of an idea of how to defeat him than the Order currently does. Am I right?" After a moment's pause, Layla nodded. "I thought so. Now, as much as you may despise me for my position as a Death Eater, the reality is that it places me in a much better position than those fools at the Order to protect you from the Dark Lord, understand?"

Layla glared at Malfoy in silence for a minute before she finally hissed, "Yes."

"Good," Malfoy said, calmer now. "Now, there are just a couple days until the school year begins, so we're going to have to work quickly if you want to go back and take your seventh year of school. I'm assuming that if you're wanting to return to school, that means that you won't be running into your younger self there?" Layla nodded, the unadulterated hatred in her eyes wavering as she stared down the man who looked at her as though she was worth the weight of the world in gold. "Good. I'll need you to write down your O.W.L.'s for me to give to the school so that they are able to place you in the proper N.E.W.T. level classes, and, of course, we'll have to come up with a cover story for who you are and where you came from."

"Ok," Layla mumbled, finally accepting defeat and lowering her gaze. Malfoy reached out and took her hand, making her shudder with a strange mix of fear, disgust, and comfort. As much as she despised the evil man in front of her, he was helping her of his own free will, and so far, had asked for extremely little in return, though she was prepared for the other shoe to drop any moment. She said quietly, "Who do I have to become?"

"You could be a long-lost Malfoy halfblood cousin," Malfoy suggested.

Layla shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "I don't want to be related to the likes of you."

"It would be the simplest way for me to protect you and explain your sudden appearance," Malfoy said. "Without informing someone else of your true identity, I don't know if I can offer any other false identity."

"Well, you'll just have to figure something else out," Layla snapped. "I don't want to be part of your family. I don't ever want your name attached to me."

"You may have no other choice," Malfoy warned.

"I would have more choices if you would take me Dumbledore like I want," Layla growled.

"Dumbledore would use you for his own purposes. He wouldn't care what became of you as long as you helped him further his own agenda."

"Is that not what you're doing right now?" Layla mocked. "Because that's what it seems like you're doing."

"Hey, you showed up in my house," Malfoy said. "I'm just doing my best to take care of my incredibly stubborn and aggressive guest. Is that really so terrible, my dear?"

"I'm not your dear; stop calling me that," Layla hissed.

Malfoy chuckled. "Layla," he said, surprising her by smiling at her for the first time since she arrived. "You are absolutely bloody impossible."

"Excuse me?"

"I do believe I was perfectly clear," Malfoy said, exasperated. "I'm trying very hard to win you over, and you are being incredibly resistant."

"Maybe that's because I don't want to be won," Layla smirked, overjoyed that her resistance to his attempts at charming her was getting under his skin.

Malfoy sighed. "I'll change your mind, one day," he said confidently. "I'm the only person you can truly trust."

"I'll never believe that," Layla said bitterly.

Malfoy sighed. "All right. You keep thinking that for now." He patted her leg, and she jerked at the sudden touch. "Go back to sleep," he ordered, standing. "I'll take you to Diagon Alley in the morning for school supplies and a wand." Layla nodded in silence, then Malfoy left the room, leaving her alone in the dark room once more.


The next morning, Layla woke to find a clean set of green robes and a black dress laying across the foot of her bed. Surprised to find that the clothes fit her, she quickly dressed in them, having just barely finished as a knock came at the door. She opened it to find Malfoy on the other side, dressed in his older self's usual stylish black suit, tie, and robes. "Ready to leave?" Malfoy asked.

"Leave?" Layla repeated, confused.

"For Diagon Alley. It's August 30. I've already spoken with the Board of Governors at Hogwarts, and they're going to allow you to attend Hogwarts as a seventh year on September 1, which means we haven't much time to get you situated to do so. You did mention that you were a Ravenclaw, correct?" Layla nodded, too shocked to resist as Malfoy took her hand and interweaved their fingers. "Very good then. I'll make sure you're back in the same house as before. Meanwhile, I've introduced you as Layla Danes, a halfblood and family friend who has just returned to Britain from the United States for the first time in ten years, and forged school records from the wizarding school there as proof of your previous grades from the list you so kindly slipped under my door last night. I've also done all the necessary paperwork to make myself your legal guardian and emergency contact with the Ministry and the school, should you be involved in some sort of accident. As far as either organization is concerned, your parents are dead, which is how I gained custody of you. I hope that is acceptable to you, because it was the best I could without bringing in someone else while not making us related by blood, as you requested, and if it is not acceptable, then you will have to learn to live with it, as it's already done."

"Layla Danes," she repeated the name, both familiar and foreign on her tongue, too overwhelmed by the sudden influx of new information to focus on anything more. Somehow, the name tasted like poison on her tongue.

"Are you ready to leave?" Malfoy said again. This time, Layla nodded, and Malfoy tugged her to follow behind him until they were stepping through the front gate of the manor. He disapparated, pulling her along with him. The pair reappeared just inside Diagon Alley, the street bustling with students and their families preparing to return to Hogwarts for another year. Layla felt like it'd been ages since she'd seen the alley in such good shape, teeming with human life and sunlight. Malfoy tugged her forward. "Come now, dear," Malfoy said, smirking at her as he called her the nickname he knew she despised. "Let's get you what you need."

Malfoy easily led her throughout the shops, stopping in at places like Flourish and Blotts, Madame Malkin's, and Potage's Cauldron Shop, before he took her to Gringotts to add her name to a list of those with permission to access the Malfoy family vault, along with giving her a rather large bag of galleons to spend in Hogsmeade over the course of the first term. As they left the bank, Layla shook her head in disbelief. That she, of all people, had access to the money that had allowed the Malfoys such prestige and influence during her lifetime left her so stunned that she didn't recognize their destination until they had stepped inside the wand shop. Ollivander, a pale-eyed, white-haired man, greeted them with a friendly, "Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Elm, dragon heartstring, thirteen and a half inches, rather flexible. What may I do for you?"

Malfoy said, "I'm here to buy another wand today, Mr. Ollivander. My dear friend here has had her wand stolen and is in need of a replacement." Layla gave him a quick glare at the use of what appeared to be his new favorite word, only to find him watching her in return, a smug grin on his lips.

"Of course," Ollivander said, waving his own wand and a tape measure flew toward Layla of its own accord, oblivious to the tension between the two. The tape measure assessed Layla as Ollivander asked, "Which is your wand arm, Miss?"

Layla, flustered, answered, "Um, the right."

"What was your previous wand?" Ollivander asked as the tape measure calculated the length of her arm in various proportions.

As the tape measure flew back across the room to Ollivander, Layla replied, "Chestnut and unicorn hair."

"Ah, I see," Ollivander said with a knowing look in his eyes. "I have one that you might suit." Disappearing into the stacks of wand boxes for a moment, he returned with a box that looked oddly familiar to Layla. He opened it and handed her the wand, which Layla immediately recognized. She took it, and gold sparks immediately flew from the tip, zooming about the room until they exploded like small firecrackers near the ceiling. "Excellent, excellent," Ollivander said with glee. "It's a perfect match. This particular wand costs six galleons."

Malfoy paid Ollivander for the wand and quickly led Layla from the shop. "You should be all set for your school supplies, then," Malfoy said as they stepped out of the shop. "You'll have one more day to recuperate from your recent experiences at our home, then you'll be heading back to Hogwarts."

Layla said, "You know what's peculiar?" Malfoy looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "This is the exact same wand that I got when I was eleven."

"Is it?"

"Yes, it is," Layla said, examining it with wonder. "I suppose since I hadn't come in for it yet, it was just sitting there, waiting for me."

"I suppose it was," Malfoy said. When Layla looked over at him, she was surprised to find him smiling at her. In a hushed tone, he said, "I know this is rather forward, but you are quite lovely when you stop fighting so hard to stay angry at me for things I've not done yet."

Her face heated at the same time that she shivered. "Are you trying to flirt with me, Malfoy?" Layla said in astonishment.

"Most definitely," Malfoy grinned, taking her by the hand again.

Layla shook her head but was unable to free her hand from Malfoy's grip. "Don't," Layla hissed. "You're a cruel, violent, vicious man. I don't want anything to do with you."

Malfoy sighed. "You may not have noticed, Miss Danes," Malfoy said collectedly. "But I am not the same man that you knew. Additionally, I remind you again that I am currently your only friend, and I have been taking excellent care of you since you arrived in my home."

"You can't win me over," Layla insisted, even as his grip on her hand tightened. "You'll never convince me to fall for you, or whatever your end goal with this flirtation is."

Malfoy smirked as he pulled her to a stop at the end of the alley. "You'll change your mind," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Before Layla could reply, Malfoy disapparated the two of them back to the manor. Layla landed unsteadily on her feet, forcing her to lean against Malfoy's well-toned chest to stay upright. Grinning at the small victory, Malfoy wrapped an arm around her shoulders and walked her back inside Malfoy Manor.


The next night, Layla sat anxiously in a chair by the window in her bedroom at the Manor, staring blankly at one of her new textbooks, a fire blazing in the fireplace at the foot of her bed. Her new silk gray pajamas felt strangely cold against her skin. She dropped the book to her lap and pulled the sleeve of her shirt up, examining the fresh, raised pink scars on her arms with renewed horror. The majority of scars shaped together to form the word 'mudblood,' and the sight made her stomach churn. Just then, there was a sharp rap at the door, and before she could move, Malfoy walked in, wearing the same blue pants as the night before and nothing else. "You should be sleeping," Malfoy said. "The train leaves early in the morning for Hogwarts."

Layla couldn't stop the trembling that had taken over her body. She shook her head. "I – I can't sleep," she breathed, barely able to speak.

Malfoy crossed the room and perched on the arm of her chair. His fingers found the back of her neck again and began stroking the tension away. He leaned down, and, using his other hand to pull her long hair away from her face, placed the lightest of kisses to the exposed skin of her cheek. Layla nearly jumped out of her skin at the sensation, but Malfoy's fingers on the back of her neck easily held her in place. "What's wrong, dear?" he said in her ear, his nose brushing against her cheek.

Swallowing hard, tears sprang to Layla's eyes. "Stop doing that," she complained.

Malfoy noticed Layla's exposed scars, and ran the tip of a finger delicately across the length of the worst of the scars, making her shiver uneasily. "I'll keep you safe," he whispered in her ear. "I want you here with me. I want you to come back to me when your time at Hogwarts is done." Layla turned her face to glare at him, but Malfoy was closer than she'd expected, startling her into silence. Just as she found her voice again, he cut off her unsaid protests by leaning away from her with a wave of his hand. "I'm certain that by the time the Christmas holidays arrive, you'll be longing desperately to be here with me again," he said, his smug grin returning. Saying nothing more, he lightly kissed her forehead then abruptly left the room, leaving her alone and quivering.