Somebody shine a light; I'm frozen by the fear in me. Somebody make me feel alive and shatter me. — Shatter Me, Lindsey Stirling ft. Lzzy Hale

November 2, 1977

"Oh, this is bloody hopeless," Layla growled, throwing the copious amounts of loose yarn and a hook down on the crochet pattern book in her lap in frustration. Regulus chuckled next to her on the soft blue sofa of the Ravenclaw common room. "It's not funny," Layla snapped at him.

This protest only served to make Regulus snicker even harder. "Oh, of course, it's not," Regulus said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. "It's just that, well, you're a witch, and yet you've been confounded by some yarn and a little Muggle hook."

"I like crocheting the Muggle way," Layla snarled. "Doing it with magic takes less time and is easier, but it takes all the pride out of making something yourself. It's cheating."

"All right, but you're just making things harder for yourself," Regulus teased. "You're supposed to be resting and taking it easy, not frustrating yourself to death on some silly project. What even is that thing anyway?"

"It's not silly!" Layla protested animatedly. "It's just my yarn being unusually difficult! And it's supposed to turn into a scarf, but my yarn keeps twisting wrong."

"Mhmm," Regulus hummed, pressing his lips into a tight smile trying to hold in laughter as he wrapped an arm around Layla's shoulders causally, platonically. Scowling, Layla pushed the crafting supplies off her lap onto the couch beside her, settling into Regulus's side with a huff, pulling her feet up beside her on the sofa, kicking the yarn and book further away from her. Layla leaned across Regulus's chest and stole his bottle of Butterbeer from the end table next to their sofa, taking a large swallow of the butterscotch liquid. When she was done, Regulus took the glass bottle from her hand and said, his voice low, "That's mine, you know."

Grinning at him, Layla said cheekily, "I know."

Smiling back at her, Regulus took a sip of the soda before setting it back down on the table. Layla snuggled closer, dropping her head tiredly on Regulus's shoulder as his fingers drummed a calming beat on her arm. They'd spent the last two days on that couch, with Layla spending the majority of the time asleep in some way on top of Regulus while he studied quietly. She would never tell him, of course, but she loved having him staying in her common room. "You shouldn't be missing so many of your classes just to spend time with me," Layla admonished half-heartedly for what felt like the hundredth time in the last forty-eight hours.

Regulus shook his head. "I'm not going back until you do," he said, the same response he always gave. Layla sighed but didn't press it, not truly wanting him to leave. "Want me to get a house elf to bring us dinner again?" Regulus asked.

Layla shook her head. "No, let's go down to dinner," she said, turning her head so her chin rested on his shoulder so that she could look at his face. They'd grown especially comfortable with this sort of physical closeness over the last few days, and it made her feel happier and more relaxed than she had since the Ministry fell and she'd gone on the run with her parents.

Regulus hesitated, his face falling a bit. "Are you sure?" he asked slowly. "I mean, you don't have to yet. No one is really expecting you to be there, and —"

"Regulus," Layla interrupted patiently. "I want to go down for dinner. I want things to go back to normal."

"Sirius is going to bother the hell out of you," Regulus warned.

Chuckling, Layla teased, "Unlike your friends, Sirius is unlikely to be violent. Come on; I'm bored. I love Ravenclaw tower and all, but I need a change of scenery. Let's go to dinner."

"Oh, there you two are again, quarreling like an old married couple as always," Dorcas ribbed as she descended the stairs from the girls' dorms. When she reached the bottom, her brown eyes took in the positioning in which she'd found her two friends, and her grin widened. "Oh, well would you look at that. You're starting to get all cuddly like an old married couple too, eh?" Regulus turned bright red as Layla flushed slightly and leaned away from him. Regulus stood quickly, leaving Layla to fall suddenly into his now empty seat. Layla and Dorcas laughed at his embarrassment. "Oh, relax, Black," Dorcas laughed. "You're two years younger than us. No one is going to think that you two have any sort of romantic relationship."

Regulus bristled slightly at that — Layla could see it in the change in tension of his facial muscles. He didn't say anything, though, as Layla stood up, and she couldn't begin to imagine a reason why that would put him on edge. Too curious, Layla said, "Dorcas, you head on to dinner. We'll catch up." Dorcas shrugged, then strolled out the door to the main corridor. When it shut behind her, Layla spun back to Regulus with a teasing grin. "Why are you so tense?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Regulus asked gruffly, shoving his things into his bag.

"When Dorcas said no one would believe we were dating, you got all tense," Layla said with a smirk. "Why? Do you want people to believe we're dating?"

Regulus huffed, "Don't be silly."

Layla giggled excitedly. "Oh Merlin, you do, don't you?"

Thoroughly annoyed, Regulus snapped, "I don't have a crush on you, Layla, all right?"

"I didn't say you did," Layla grinned. "Just that you'd like for people to believe we were dating."

"Well, honestly, yeah," Regulus grumbled. "It would certainly make it a hell of a lot easier to protect you from people like LeStrange if they knew they had me to contend with if anything happened to you."

"LeStrange knew he had Malfoy to contend with for hurting me, and look what happened there anyway," Layla said, the teasing gone from her demeanor.

Regulus shook his head. "I just don't care for the way everyone looks at you, all right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Sirius and LeStrange and all those other bloody bastards in your year," Regulus said angrily, his hands shaking so hard that he almost dropped his Potions textbook as he tried to shove it into his bag. "I don't like how they look at you like you're…"

"Like I'm what?" Layla pushed.

"Like you're just another skirt for them to get into," Regulus growled, his tone menacing enough to give Layla pause. "Like you're just another slag for them to shag. It's just… you're just fresh meat to them. Every other girl in this school they grew up with; they know them too well. But you, you're brand new, you're pretty, you're a mystery. And that's why all these stupid boys in your year are obsessed with getting in your pants; you're just a novelty to them. I don't like it; I just don't like it."

"Regulus," Layla said mildly, placing her hand on his trembling arm, attempting to calm him. "There's nothing you can do that'll change that, and the 'novelty' as you call it will wear off eventually."

Regulus laughed darkly. "I could always kill them."

Layla shook her head. "You won't, though. You're not like that."

"You don't know that," Regulus snarled.

"Come on, Regulus," Layla started, but he interrupted her.

"No, Layla. For you…" Regulus shook his head, a quick, humorless laugh escaping him. "I could easily kill for you."

Layla shook her head. "I don't believe that. You're not like that."

Regulus shrugged, the movement knocking her hand from his arm. "Fine, don't believe me. Forget all of this, then. Let's just get dinner."

"Regulus —"

"I'm not saying I'm in love with you or anything," Regulus said, eyes blazing as he stared Layla down.

Layla nodded. "I – I know," she said in the most soothing voice she could.

"We both know that the only reason LeStrange and Malfoy want anything to do with you is so they can get you pregnant," Regulus said heatedly. "They just want you to carry on their family names. They don't actually care about you. Malfoy just thinks you'll give his descendants more powerful magic, and LeStrange just wants you because Malfoy does, and he wants to get there first."

"I'm sure you're right."

"And Sirius is just an ass who'll take advantage of anyone at the slightest opportunity," Regulus continued bitterly. "Just like all of his little Gryffindor friends. They don't actually care about you or want to keep you around. They just want to have a little fun in bed with you and then leave you."

Layla nodded quickly, struggling to find a way to calm Regulus down. "Yes, yes, you're right."

"Sirius always gets what he wants, though," Regulus rambled, seemingly unable to stop himself. "He wants you. I can see it in his face every time he looks at you. He wants you, and he doesn't deserve you. He doesn't treat you right; none of them do…"

"Regulus, where is all this coming from?" Layla asked quietly, placing soothing hands on each of his biceps.

Regulus shook his head. "I just…"

When Regulus didn't continue, Layla said quietly, "Don't worry about it now, Regulus. Let's just go to dinner, ok?" Regulus nodded and took her hand in his, letting her lead him out of Ravenclaw tower and down to the Great Hall. When they entered the room, the entire hall went silent with everyone turning to stare at the pair of them. Layla said under her breath, "Ignore them, Regulus."

Regulus nodded, and the two walked over to sit next to each other at the Ravenclaw table. As the murmur of conversation began to fill the hall again, Sirius plopped into the seat across from them, dropping a large pile of parchment in front of Layla. "Class notes," he said coldly. "Are you two dating now?" he asked, staring pointedly at her hand still clasped in his younger brother's.

Layla let go of Regulus's hand as she took the notes from the table and placed them in the empty seat on the bench beside her. "No, we're not," Layla said, just as coldly. "Thank you for the notes, Sirius."

"Yeah, sure," Sirius mumbled. "You know," he said, dropping some of his irritability in favor of flirtatious charm. "My offer to take you to Hogsmeade still stands."

"What offer?" Regulus asked Layla, shocked.

Layla sighed. "I'd actually forgotten about it in all the chaos. I told Sirius that Malfoy had boxed me into a date with him the next Hogsmeade weekend, and Sirius insisted that I blow off Malfoy and go with him instead."

Snorting, Regulus sneered, "Yeah, that's likely to happen."

"It's a lot more likely than her going with you," Sirius snapped. "Why do you keep hanging around him, anyway? He's going to be a Death Eater one of these days, you know. You just watch; he always does whatever mummy dearest says."

"Oh, shut up, Sirius," Layla said tiredly. "I happen to like Regulus very much. I care about him, so shove off."

"You care about him?" Sirius mocked. "Well, I suppose that's all it takes for a happy relationship, isn't it? Nevermind that you despise everything he believes in."

"Sirius?" Sirius paused his irritated ramblings at Layla's voice. "Shut up, and go away," Layla said aloofly. Sirius growled in frustration but started to walk away anyway. "Oh, and Sirius?" He stopped, turning around slowly and raising an aggravated eyebrow at her. "You can take this as a no to your offer of a date." Sirius shook his head, turning on his heel and storming out of the Great Hall, his three best friends jumping up from the Gryffindor table and rushing after him.

Regulus was frowning when Layla turned back to look at him. He leaned in closer and whispered, "Are you sure you want to cast your lot in with mine? I mean, I know you and Sirius annoy the bloody hell out of each other, but I mean, you've slept together and all before… It's just, his beliefs line up a lot more with yours than mine do. He's right; I'm most likely going to end up a Death Eater, and he definitely won't… He'd be able to protect you from those people, from that life…"

"Regulus," Layla interrupted. "It's been my experience that the Order of the Phoenix is absolutely bloody terrible at protecting their own. And I know you don't really want me to be with your brother."

"He's got a good point though. Why me? Why spend so much time with me? I mean, if you're really just looking for safety from someone opposite from the Order, then Malfoy's your man, and he's more than willing to take on the task. Bloody hell, he'd marry you in a heartbeat, give you all the money, status, and safety you could ever possibly dream of, so why waste your time hanging around me?"

"Because I bloody like you, Regulus," Layla said impatiently. "You're my friend. I care about you, a lot. And why are you suddenly trying to push me into the arms of the same men who upstairs you were so angry over how they looked at me you were willing to kill them to protect me from them?"

Regulus sighed. "I don't… I just don't think that… Dorcas is right," he huffed. "No one would ever believe us as a couple, would they?"

Layla shifted slightly in her seat, blushing slightly as Regulus dished out a plate of shepherd's pie for her. Picking up her fork, Layla said quietly, "I suppose not, but honestly, I guess you're the closest thing I have to a family right now. I could more easily see us as brother and sister."

Regulus froze, the serving spoon halfway between its original dish and his plate. "You – you could —" he began, but the cry of an owl interrupted them as a large black owl swooped down on them, landing on Regulus's shoulder. Regulus took a card from it, then the bird took off. He ripped it open and his dark eyes sped over the lines on it quickly, then he tucked it into his bag and tried to go back to the conversation. "Are you sure you… you really don't have to, you know. There are better blokes out there than me… I've never been good at the whole brother thing…"

"What was in that card?" Layla asked, concerned that its contents had left Regulus so obviously shaken. He wasn't the type to lose his cool, collected demeanor easily, no matter how upset he was, so if he was upset enough to start babbling rather nonsensically, there must be something truly, horribly wrong.

"Nothing," Regulus said quickly, dropping the spoonful of shepherd's pie back into the casserole dish, picking up a fork and eating off Layla's plate instead of dishing up some for himself.

"It must've been something," Layla pressed. "You're absolutely shaking."

"It's nothing," Regulus insisted, but Layla reached across him and stole the card out of his bag. He tried to take it back from her, but she'd already managed to open it and read it.

"This is a birthday card from your parents," Layla mumbled. "It says that you're to come home as soon as possible and —" Layla trailed off, the card shaking in her hands now as well.

"Yeah, I turned sixteen today," Regulus grumbled, snatching taking the card from Layla. "And yes, apparently my mother is now insisting that I take the Dark Mark as soon as possible."

"You – you can't," Layla breathed. "Oh, please, don't."

Regulus sighed. "We've talked about this. I don't want to, but I have no choice, or at least not any that don't end with me dead."

"I've got a feeling that you'll end up dead far too young either way," Layla begged. "Please, don't do this."

"Layla, I'm sorry," Regulus whispered back. "I don't have any choice. I'm sorry."

Layla shook her head. "I'm not hungry anymore," she said. "Can we go back to the tower?" Regulus nodded, grabbing the plate and fork and taking it with them as he followed Layla from the Great Hall, certain that she'd get hungry again later.

November 19, 1977

Once Layla had returned to class, Regulus had begun to avoid her, leaving Layla feeling lonelier than she had since the start of term. She filled the void by spending as much time studying in the library with Remus as possible, but as she soon discovered, Remus came with James, Sirius, and Peter as well, and she found she didn't care as much for their company as she'd thought she would, particularly Peter and Sirius. All she ever wanted to talk about was schoolwork, but all the Marauder boys seemed to want to discuss was the war, pranks against the Slytherins, and trying to separate Layla from Malfoy and Regulus, which got on her last nerve. Quidditch practices had also begun, and with that now filling her afternoons and evenings, she was never more thoroughly tired, mentally and physically, in her life. Malfoy was still writing her regularly and sending her care packages, and if she were honest with herself, she'd come to depend on that. Not only had she put on an extra pound or two from the weekly box of snacks that he was sending her, but since the Halloween rescue, she'd also started writing back to his letters. She hated to admit it, but as she started finally letting herself get to know Malfoy, she found herself beginning to actually like him — but only a little bit, and she still refused to own up to liking him.

The nearest Hogsmeade weekend arrived, far too quickly for Layla's taste, along with her date with Lucius Malfoy. She was absolutely clueless about what to expect from him, but she felt fairly determined that she wouldn't be having a good time, no matter what he did. As she left the warm castle and entered the cold, snowy grounds of Hogwarts, she tightened her Ravenclaw scarf around her neck, shivering at both the chill in the air and the pang of loneliness she felt at not having Regulus by her side as usual.

By the time Layla made it to the Three Broomsticks, her gray trousers (because Malfoy had only bought her nice clothes and no casual clothes like jeans, much to Layla's chagrin), were soaked almost to her knees from the snow that was still gently falling, her peacoat, while still warm, was equally drenched, and her red beret left her ears exposed, red, and stinging. She stomped her boots — with heels she thought ridiculously high for a snow day, yet still the shortest she had — as she entered the pub, muttering under her breath in annoyance with her wardrobe that was far more pretty than functional as Lucius Malfoy swept down on her, removing her beret and helping her out of her coat as she struggled to stay warm. She growled at him as he took her coat. He raised an eyebrow at her hostility, so she said through chattering teeth, "These bloody clothes are absolutely bloody ridiculous. Only things to keep me totally bloody warm were the bloody dragonhide gloves. These aren't proper winter clothes, damn it."

Malfoy grinned slightly as he realized there was such a simple source to Layla's intense frustration with him. "All right, calm down, my dearest," Malfoy said, shocking Layla by leaning down and giving her a quick peck on top of her head. "Calm yourself. I'll attend to it."

Layla hesitated, the annoyance of the previous moment suddenly flooding out of her, overtaken by a sense that maybe Malfoy really would take care of her problem for her. Struggling to maintain her aggravation, she said, "Well, what about these bloody shoes? What kind of woman wears high heels in the bloody snow? It's absolutely ridiculous. I mean, really, who do you think I am? Marjorie Reynolds?"

"Who?"

Layla shook her head. "Nevermind. She's the girl from Holiday Inn; I should've known you of all people wouldn't know who she is."

Malfoy sighed, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her to their table. "I'm sorry about the shoes, my dear. I'll make certain you have more appropriate ones by the end of our meal."

"How?" Layla asked as Malfoy helped her into her seat.

"The house elf, of course; how else?" Malfoy said, mimicking Layla's own tone of frustration at his earlier lack of knowledge of the Muggle world as he took his seat across from her. "Dobby!"

A loud crack made Layla flinch, then there was Dobby the house elf, dressed in a warm looking but a bit threadbare blanket that day, standing next to Malfoy's chair. "Yes, Master Malfoy?" Dobby asked.

"Layla will be requiring more snow appropriate clothing and shoes," Malfoy said coldly to the elf. "At least one outfit, along with a new pair of shoes, is to be delivered here before our meal is over." After a short pause, he added, "Perhaps some Muggle winter clothes would suit our friend a bit more in this sort of weather." Layla couldn't help the slight smile on her face. She had noticed that Malfoy seemed to despise Muggle fashions, so the significance of the compromise did not escape her notice. The elf disapparated with another loud pop that hurt Layla's ears, but she continued to smile shyly at Malfoy anyway. "I do hope this solution is to your satisfaction?" he said with the typical Malfoy smirk.

Rolling her eyes, Layla said, "I suppose so." After a pause, she added, "Thank you, Malfoy."

"You're welcome," Malfoy said smugly. The pair ate their lunch with very little conversation until Dobby reappeared practically buried under a pair of blue jeans, a thick cozy sweater, wool socks, and a proper pair of Muggle snow boots. Layla grinned, snatching the clothes from the small elf and rushing off to change in the restroom. As she pulled the last item, the cashmere sweater the color of red wine, over her head, she felt possibly the most relaxed in her clothes than she had since she'd first met the young Lucius Malfoy, and she breathed a long sigh of relief at the feeling of jeans on her legs once again. When she rejoined Malfoy by the door to the pub, his eyes glanced up and down her, appraising her, before he said disdainfully, "You look utterly Muggle." Layla's eyes narrowed at him, and she prepared to make a retort, but then he added quietly, "But you also look utterly adorable, my dearest." Layla felt her cheeks heat as she snapped her mouth shut, fighting a smile at the compliment. Malfoy led her out into the street, where the snow had ceased falling at long last, as he asked, "Is there anywhere here that you would like to go this afternoon before we head to London?"

Frowning, Layla repeated, "London?"

Malfoy chuckled at her confusion. "Yes, London." He pulled her flush against his chest, looking down at her with a gentle smile that completely disarmed Layla. Caught so far off guard, Layla relaxed into Malfoy's embrace, allowing him to support her weight. "I've planned an evening in London for us tonight. Now, is there anything else you'd like to do here in Hogsmeade before we leave for London?"

Layla thought for a moment. "Well…" Layla said slowly, hesitating.

Malfoy tucked a stray wave of black hair behind Layla's ear. "Anything your heart desires, my dearest, and it's yours," Malfoy murmured.

Layla felt a tingle shoot down her spine when he touched her hair, and she blushed even harder. She shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other as she said, "Well, I could use a broom for Quidditch. Eventually, I won't be able to borrow Regulus's anymore because he'll need it."

"Of course!" Malfoy exclaimed. "I should have thought of that myself. Come along, then."

An hour later, Malfoy and Layla were walking out of Quality Quidditch Supplies with Dobby behind them carrying Layla's new Nimbus 1988 along with everything she could possibly need to care for her new broomstick and then some. Layla had tried to carry her purchases herself, but Malfoy insisted on Dobby carrying them. As they left the shop, there was a loud crack, and Layla spun around to realize Dobby was gone. "Where did he…?"

Malfoy answered, "To your dormitory, of course, to drop off your things. I'm sure he's done the same with the rest of your new winter wardrobe."

As Layla nodded, a shout made Layla jump and tighten her grip on Malfoy's left arm, only then fully aware that she was even holding onto his arm in the first place. "Malfoy!" The older man turned with a look of controlled annoyance to face Sirius Black, who was crossing the street toward them, Remus Lupin and James Potter only a few steps behind him. Remus looked particularly concerned, whether by Sirius's behavior or Layla's company, she wasn't sure. "Let her go, Malfoy," Sirius growled.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the younger man. "Why would I do that?" he said disdainfully, as calm and collected as ever.

"She doesn't want to be with you," Sirius snarled. "Let her go."

"Sirius," Layla hissed, but he ignored her.

"She's not your property, Malfoy," Sirius sneered, ignoring Layla's warning. "I'm proof of that."

"Oh, you mean the way you took advantage of her vulnerability under Veritaserum and stole her away to your bed? Yes, I've heard all about that. If I recall, you left her feeling anything but wanted, which is exactly the opposite of how I plan to make her feel," Malfoy said, grinning smugly as he slipped a hand around Layla's petite waist and pulled her against his side, which Layla, oddly enough, felt no need to resist.

Sirius glowered at the way Malfoy held Layla as he said, slipping into his old pureblood family haughty attitude himself, "Well, then you're aware how things work in the pureblood world. I'm a pureblood, and I've slept with her. She's as good as married to me. You have no right to her."

Layla gaped at Sirius in shock, horrified at his words. "Sirius, don't be ridiculous," Layla snapped. "You can't just —"

"According to the rules that Malfoy there lives by, I can," Sirius smirked.

"Sirius," James cautioned, far too late as usual. As always, he was too amused by Sirius's fight to see it getting out of hand until it was too late to stop him.

Malfoy laughed, "You can't seriously expect to lay any sort of claim on Layla so many months after you slept with her. She's obviously not pregnant, and you were disowned by your family, so as far as any of us are concerned, you're not even a pureblood anymore. Our rules on sex and marriage don't apply to blood traitors like you, do they?"

Desperate to get the upper hand, Sirius taunted, "Yes, because you're obviously so concerned about blood status, Malfoy. I'm sure you're as aware as I am of Layla's natural blood status. What makes you think your precious Dark Lord will allow you to marry a Mug—"

"Enough, Sirius!" Layla exclaimed, horrified at what he was about to say so publicly. "Enough! Please, just stop."

Turning his full attention on Layla, Sirius demanded, "Don't go with him, Layla. Remember what he's done? Remember who he is? Remember the way you were absolutely terrified of this Death Eater just a few weeks ago?"

"Sirius, please, stop," Layla pleaded, but as usual, Sirius ignored her and continued to push.

"Damn it, Layla, I care too much about you to let you go with him," Sirius snapped. "He'll destroy you, and you know it. You fear him."

"He's protected me," Layla defended, more a defense of herself and her right to choose her own life than of Malfoy himself. "He's protected me over and over again."

"He's protecting his asset," Sirius sneered. "He just wants you to be the future mother of his children."

Malfoy leaned down slightly and whispered in her ear, "What would be so terrible about being the mother of my children, hmm? You'd be so loved and cared for. You'd never be left alone again. Can he promise you that? That you'll never be alone again?" Layla hesitated, and she noticed the panic that appeared in Sirius's eyes as he realized that he might be losing.

Sirius begged, "Layla, don't listen to him. He's a Death Eater, remember? He's one of the people that murdered your parents."

Layla shook her head hard at that as horror film worthy images forced their way to the front of her mind. "Don't, Sirius," she mumbled, her head spinning. "He's not. He wasn't there." She leaned against Malfoy's side as her head began to feel light, and he supported her easily.

"You'd never see the Muggle world again with him," Sirius pressed. "Your parents' world, Layla. I can give you that. We could be part of the Muggle world together. Just leave him."

"Enough, Black," Malfoy said coldly, his voice carrying a weight of authority that surprised Layla. Turning his face to look down at her, Malfoy practically crooned, with such gentleness that she found herself surprised once again, "Are you ready to leave?"

As Layla nodded, Sirius said, desperation leaking into his voice, "Layla, wait, leave? Where are you —"

Sirius's voice was cut off by the sudden pop of being pulled along for a side-along apparation. Layla's ears rang for a moment as she landed, surprisingly gently, on the cracked sidewalk of an abandoned street in London. A nearby stray cat hissed at the sudden appearance of the witch and wizard, but as Layla searched the alley for the small creature, Malfoy ignored it, his entire focus on Layla. She tried to leave his arms in favor of finding the lost cat, staring intently at a nearby set of rubbish bins that seemed a likely hiding place, but Malfoy held onto her tightly, using his free hand to pull her face around to look at him. Shocked into compliance by the intensity of his blue eyes, Layla stilled as he looked her up and down, reassuring himself that he hadn't accidentally splinched her. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

Layla nodded. "I'm all right," she mumbled. As an afterthought, she added, "I'm sorry. About Sirius. I'm sorry."

Malfoy shook his head, taking a breath. "He's always had a temper, but he's certainly nothing I can't handle."

Layla couldn't help the question that escaped her then. "Is he right? Is he right about you though? About never seeing the Muggle world again?" Before Malfoy could answer, Layla babbled on, "Oh, Merlin, he's right, isn't he? I mean, you're a Death Eater! He's right; You-Know-Who would never allow any of that stuff, would he? Seeing the Muggle world could never be an option! Hell, he'd never let me be anything to you, certainly nothing remotely close to the mother of your children, and what nonsense that idea is! He'll kill me the minute he sees me, a stupid little mudblood like me…"

"Stop!" Malfoy insisted, pulling her closer to him. His hand caressed her face tenderly, tangling in her black hair occasionally as it got in his way. "Please, stop that now," Malfoy repeated, his voice lowering to a more soothing timbre. "That will never happen. First of all, you're not a stupid little mudblood or anything close to that. Secondly, the Dark Lord won't kill you. He believes you're a halfblood. Not to mention, you have my protection, which you should know by now gives you a lot more leeway with the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters than you seem to realize. As far as seeing the Muggle world again goes, why don't you take a better look at where we're standing? It's certainly not Diagon Alley, now, is it?"

Layla paused, glancing around them once again. She didn't recognize this part of London, certainly not from an alleyway, but the neighborhood certainly did have a decidedly Muggle look about it. She walked away from Malfoy, and this time he let her, following closely behind her as she reached the entrance to the side street. He took her hand as she took in the main street around her. It wasn't much, but it was clearly a more upscale part of town. Her eyes then landed on a building across the street with a sign out front. "A tango club?" she said, surprised.

Malfoy took her hand. "That is our destination for tonight, pending your approval," Malfoy said, his usual proud grin returning to his lips as he said so, fully aware of Layla's increasing excitement.

"That – that sounds brilliant," Layla said quickly. "But umm..." She glanced down at the Muggle clothes, so incredibly warm and comfortable, yet so casual. "I'm not exactly dressed for it."

Malfoy chuckled. "That's so easily remedied, my dearest," he said, his tone slightly teasing.

Layla thought for a moment. "All right, but I want to do something first."

"What's that?"

"Let's go ice skating at the Natural History Museum," Layla answered, smiling shyly up at Malfoy. "My parents and I go there every Christmas to skate, and —" She cut herself off suddenly as the cold harsh wrench of sadness mixed with loneliness filled her chest, nearly crushing her lungs, her eyes dropping to Malfoy's strong chest.

Malfoy squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Of course, we'll go," he said kindly. She looked back up at him, surprised as always by the tiniest acts of kindness from Lucius Malfoy. He pulled her close again, disapparating once more to reappear in an alley just a block away from the museum. The outdoor ice rink was beautiful with its massive Christmas tree in the middle of the ice, people skating all around it. Malfoy bought the tickets and skates for them, and as they changed from their shoes to the skates, Malfoy slipped his wand from his pocket and subtly pointed it at both pairs of skates, muttering under his breath, "Scourgify." Layla raised an eyebrow at him as he slipped his wand back into his pocket, and he shrugged. "Can't be too careful."

Rolling her eyes at him, Layla tied on her skates and stepped out onto the ice, Malfoy hesitating behind her. Layla did a lap around the Christmas tree, only to realize when she came back around that Malfoy still wasn't on the ice. She skated up to him, allowing her toe pick to pull her to a sudden stop in front of him, startling him. She giggled at that, asking, "What's the matter? Haven't you ever been ice skating before?"

Malfoy huffed, his pride injured by her astute observation. "No, I haven't. It's not the most popular activity in proper wizarding society," Malfoy said, sneering a little as he glanced around. "It's more a Muggle activity."

"Well, since I'm Muggleborn," Layla said, taking Malfoy's hand and tugging him out onto the ice. "I suppose you ought to get used to it. You keep insisting we'd make a good match, talking about kids and nonsense. Any kids of mine will know how to ice skate."

Malfoy shook his head slightly, huffing. He was surprisingly solid on his feet for a first-time skater. Layla grinned, skating backward and still holding his hand, tugging him along with her. "You're going to run into someone going backward like that," Malfoy warned.

Layla laughed. "Yes, well, if I do, I'm sure you won't let me fall."

When she sensed that Malfoy was feeling more confident in his abilities, Layla let go of his hand and sped away. He was smiling as he watched her lap the rink. She felt a sense of normalcy that had been missing for quite some time, that she was only just now realizing was due to a lack of a connection to her roots in the Muggle world. "You're quite good," Malfoy said as she stopped in front of him.

Layla replied, "My mom and I loved to watch figure skating competitions together. I wasn't even close to good enough to be a figure skater myself, but my parents took me to the rink here every year for Christmas to let me pretend I was as a child, and it just sort of became a tradition."

Malfoy smiled softly at her, her cheeks flushed from cold and exertion. "That's a nice tradition," he said quietly. "Perhaps we can continue it from now on."

Layla shivered, whether from the cold of the ice around her or the idea of a future with Malfoy, she couldn't be sure. "That would be lovely," she said softly, for a moment not entirely certain the moment was even real.

The duo skated for the rest of their hour, though Malfoy spent the majority of the time standing at the edge of the rink simply watching Layla skate around the many Muggles who were also skating there. When she was done, Malfoy had her change back into the now-dry clothes she'd first worn to meet him in Hogsmeade and took her to some fancy French restaurant that Layla imagined was too expensive to possibly still have been open by the time she was born (she began to develop a serious headache when she got lost on the mental rabbit trail of remembering that her birthday didn't technically come for a few more years).

At the end of dinner, Malfoy apparated them back to the tango club and led her inside. The dark drawl of violins greeted them as he led her onto the dance floor, drawing her in until their bodies were flush against each other. His hand splayed over the ball of her shoulder, and he dragged the palm of his hand down her arm until his fingers ghosted across the back of her hand. He nuzzled the opposite side of her neck, his breath hot on her skin and making her shiver, as his right hand slipped under her arm and landed sensually on her waist. His left hand left the back of her hand, covering her hip with it, then he lightly trailed his hand down the back of her leg, pulling it slightly up in the process, until he could hook his hand behind her knee. Suddenly, he yanked her leg up to his hip, making Layla gasp and lean against him. Her body was flooding with hormones that left her hot and breathing heavily as Malfoy smirked into her neck, completely aware of what he was doing to her. He breathed, "Layla, I want you to marry me. When you come home for Christmas, marry me."

Layla thought about it for a moment, but panic seized her heart from some hidden place in her mind. She recoiled from him, dropping her leg, taking three steps back as the sensation, for no apparent reason, brought back the worst sort of memories of Snatchers and dementors and Azkaban and her so-called "visit" to Malfoy Manor. She stepped back from Malfoy, and when her eyes found his again, he was more confused and worried than she'd expected. She shook her head hard as he tried to pull her back to him, extricating herself from his grasp. "No," Layla said. "Please, don't."

"Layla," Malfoy said patiently, offering his hand to her.

Now hyperalert and suspicious, Layla asked, "Why did you bring me here?"

"Because I knew you'd love it," Malfoy answered easily, allowing his hand to fall, but Layla's eyes remained narrowed.

"How did you know?"

Brows furrowed in confusion, Malfoy said, "Honestly, I guessed. Don't most girls find dancing wildly romantic?" Layla took another step backward as Malfoy took another step closer to her. "I'm not going to hurt you, Layla. I'll never hurt you; you must know that by now."

"You're a Death Eater," Layla reminded him. "How am I supposed to trust you?"

Malfoy sighed. "My dear, if I'd wanted to hurt you, I would've taken the chance the moment you appeared in my home with your time turner, bloodied and weak and entirely vulnerable. Why would I bother to help you create a life in this time and place if I'd only intended to hurt you eventually? Why would I protect you from harm from people like Rabastan LeStrange and Narcissa Black if I was only intending on torturing you myself? Why on earth would I ask you to marry me, fully knowing that the safest place you could ever hope to be is at my side as my wife, if all the while I was harboring secret desires for your demise? It's completely ridiculous."

"Creating a false sense of security?" Layla suggested weakly.

Malfoy laughed humorlessly at that. "Don't be absurd. What purpose would that serve? Dearest, I'm a Death Eater, as you are so fond of reminding me. I've had you at my total mercy more than once. I could have easily taken anything I liked from you or caused you pain at any time I liked, so why would I bother to lull you in a false sense of security?" Layla shook her head, starting to feel stupid, realizing that perhaps she had overreacted without even so much as a trigger. Maybe her fears really were all inside her own mind.

Malfoy took another step closer, and Layla allowed it this time, so he placed his hands on her shoulders lightly, doing his best not to spook her again. She blinked back unwanted tears that were welling in her eyes, her face burning hot as she realized she should've known by now that Malfoy had no intention of ever hurting her. Writing her every day she was at school with an endless list of questions about her life before she'd accidentally time-traveled, the weekly care packages that grew more specific to her tastes with each delivery, the clothes, the schoolbooks… He'd gone far out of his way to care for her, to ensure her safety, and even to make her happy, and she felt incredibly foolish for doubting him. Yes, maybe he was attempting to merely woo her into a marriage with him to somehow strengthen the magic of his bloodline, but he also had shown on multiple occasions that he did genuinely care about her wellbeing as well. Another step closer, hand extended again, Malfoy asked, his voice softer now, making it difficult to hear over the slow and sensual tango music, "Do you believe me now?"

Layla took a shaky deep breath, then nodded and took his hand. "Yes."

Malfoy let out a small sigh of relief. "Good. So, now that we've reassured you once more, what is your answer?"

Frowning, Layla said, "Answer? Answer to what?"

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy said, "To my proposal, of course. I did just ask you to marry me, in case you'd forgotten."

Layla hesitated. "I… I don't know…"

Malfoy inhaled, slow and deep, then breathed out a heavy sigh. "You don't have to answer now. Think about it. Perhaps I've asked too soon, but I wanted to try to get married as soon as possible because…" He trailed off, his blue eyes screaming that he was holding something back.

Not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer, Layla asked, "What's happening?"

Malfoy took her by the arm and led her out of the tango club into the dimly lit, freezing cold street. "Well, obviously the Dark Lord has heard of you by now. You've officially garnered his interest, and he has been continuously asking me questions about you. It's one of many reasons I've been trying so hard to get to know you, but you since you typically ignore all my owls, I'm usually left to rely on what Regulus can tell me about you." Layla started to protest Malfoy using her best friend to spy on her, but Malfoy cut her off before she could do more than open her mouth. "Don't get angry with Regulus over that. We're just trying to protect you, Layla. The Dark Lord's very suspicious of your sudden appearance in our lives, but he wants to recruit you nonetheless. He knows obviously that his Death Eaters would have never gone all the way to America to murder your parents when they were not even on his radar, particularly without his orders. He suspects that I was covering for you with the Ministry, that you might have been the one who murdered your parents."

"How could I have —"

"That's not the issue here," Malfoy snapped. "Then you just had to go and cast the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix bloody LeStrange back at Halloween. She likes you now, did you know that? Apparently, she's a fan of your spellwork. She's been begging the Dark Lord to bring you into the fold; she's always telling him that you're a powerful witch, how brilliant an asset you'd be to him, how much her cousin Regulus adores you, and he's listening. The Dark Lord has been suggesting that I ought to convince you to take the Dark Mark."

"No!" Layla exclaimed. "Never! Besides, the moment he sees the scars on my arm… he'd kill me rather than mark me."

"Of course, you're not going to take the Dark Mark," Malfoy said reassuringly. "I would never allow the situation to escalate that far. That's why we ought to get married as soon as possible. I won't… I won't pressure you into something that you don't want, sex, kids… it can all wait, or if it never comes then… well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, but I want you to be safe. I would very much like it if we could eventually fall in love with each other, but for now, I feel we need to hurry things along so that we can have the chance to love each other later."

Layla floundered for an articulate response. She would have never expected him to say any of that, and now that he had, how was she supposed to reconcile that with everything else she'd always known and been told about the man from the time she was a second year until now? "Malfoy, I — it's so — I don't even know you."

"I don't exactly know you well either," Malfoy said calmly. "But people have been marrying to secure their futures to people they've never even met for centuries, but most end up falling in love with each other and happy together anyway, don't they?"

Layla snorted. "Isn't that just in Jane Austen novels?"

Brow furrowing, Malfoy asked, "Who's Jane Austen?"

Layla shook her head. "Oh, nevermind. The point is that it seems to be a bit of a fantasy, that we could fall in love after getting married, isn't it?"

"Perhaps," Malfoy said. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take. Are you?"

She hesitated again. "I don't know, Malfoy. I don't…"

"You don't have to answer now, remember that," Malfoy reminded her. "Let me take you back to Hogwarts now, then go up to your dorm and just think on it. I'll be at your Quidditch game next weekend. If you feel ready to answer by then, then brilliant, but if not, it's all right." Layla sighed but nodded, certain that arguing any further with Malfoy would be useless. She let him lead her into the dark alleyway, pull her into his arms in a tight embrace, then disapparated, landing just outside the gates of Hogwarts. Malfoy leaned down and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek, muttering in her ear, "Goodbye, my dearest. Be safe." He stepped back and disapparated with a pop, leaving Layla totally alone to walk back up to the castle.