I'm an angel with a shotgun fighting till the war's won. I don't care if heaven won't take me back. I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe. Don't you know you're everything I have? – Angel with a Shotgun, the Cab

November 20, 1977

The next morning at breakfast, Layla sat down at the Slytherin table next to Regulus. He raised both eyebrows at her when she did, as she rarely dared to approach his house's table, but it was the only sign of surprise that he gave her. Layla knew that Regulus usually sat at the Slytherin table as a method of avoiding her, but she didn't care today. She immediately slipped her arms around his waist immediately, forcing his arm around her, a little surprised he didn't protest. She was surprised, however, when his left forearm touched her shoulder and she felt him flinch hard, jerking his arm away from her. Eyes widening, she pulled back from her, glancing quickly between his arm and his eyes in horror. Regulus sighed, then asked as a method of distraction, "How was your date with Malfoy yesterday?"

"Brilliant," Layla said sarcastically, not willing to fall for his usual methods of diversion this time. "Is something wrong with your arm?"

Regulus shook his head, his denial coming too quickly for Layla to believe him. "No, nothing's wrong. Tell me about your date," he said. "How was Malfoy? What did you do?"

"Lunch at the Three Broomsticks, Quidditch supplies, ice skating, dinner, dancing," Layla listed quickly. "Now tell me about your day yesterday. What did you do?"

Regulus took a deep breath and held it as he slapped a pile of French toast slices onto Layla's plate. "Nothing really," he said, his voice tight. "Practiced for the upcoming Quidditch game. "Which you ought to consider doing, by the way, since your first game is this weekend."

"Moss has team practices scheduled down at the pitch this afternoon and every other day this week," Layla said, brushing aside his comment even as Regulus forced a fork into her hand. She ignored the implement and pressed him, lowering her voice, "What's wrong with your arm?"

Hissing slightly when the fabric of his sleeve rubbed against her back, Regulus tossed his arm around Layla again, pulling her tightly to his side and growling in her ear, "Layla, please, stop. I'm begging you, stop. Let it go."

Layla whispered back, "You know I can't do that. You took it, didn't you? You took the mark?"

"Shut up, Layla, please," Regulus begged, his gray eyes pleading desperately. "Leave it alone, for Merlin's sake."

"You know I can't."

"Why the bloody hell not?"

"Because you matter to me!" Layla hissed. "Because I need to know whether or not you've been a complete and total idiot. I need to be able to protect you if something… if something bad happens."

"Why would you want to protect me of all people? Especially if…"

"Because like I've said, you're the closest thing to a bloody family I've got, you tosser," Layla said, exasperated. "And damn it, if I have to protect you, then I'm going to protect you, come what may."

"And how exactly are you going to protect me?" Regulus scoffed. "You can't even protect yourself. You don't trust anyone."

"I trust you," Layla snapped. "You're the only bloody person I can trust completely, I think. And then there's…" Layla hesitated.

Regulus raised an eyebrow at her, surprised she might include someone else. "No, do go on. Who else has won your trust? Don't tell me it's my bloody idiot of a brother."

Layla shook her head. "Of course not. That git has lost my trust for good… The whole Order of the Phoenix isn't trustworthy, really."

Regulus said lowly, "Then who else is it that you seem to think you might trust? A bloody Muggle?"

Layla snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't know any Muggles anymore. Not here." She took a breath, then admitted, "Lucius Malfoy. Of all the bloody people on the bloody planet, I think I might actually be able to trust Lucius Malfoy."

Regulus smirked. "The only two people in the world you trust are a pair of Death Eaters. What happened to hating Death Eaters more than anything in the world?"

"I still do hate the Death Eaters, as a whole," Layla said quietly. "But you two are different. You've earned my trust. Besides, eventually, I was going to have to trust someone. I think I've made the right choice." After a moment of silence as Regulus dug back into his breakfast, Layla pressed, "So, you did take it last night, huh?"

Regulus groaned, dropping his fork, vexed, then confessed, "Yes. I did. Bellatrix practically kidnapped me from Hogsmeade last night, and, well… it went from there. I didn't have a choice if I wanted to live." He stared at Layla with hard, questioning eyes that made her think he was doing his best to try to make her fear him, but all he accomplished was accidentally showing her the fear in his own eyes. "Are you ok with that? Do – do you hate me for it?"

Layla shook her head, not backing down from the staring contest. "I'm glad you're alive. I wouldn't have wanted you to die to stay out of their clutches. Not now. Things… well, things change. And besides that…" Layla hesitated to say, then she whispered, "Malfoy asked me to marry him last night. He claims it's the only way to keep me from having to take the mark too. He says You-Know-Who is getting too curious about me to avoid that situation anymore."

Regulus nodded. "He is. He asked me about you before I took the mark." Layla froze. "I think it was meant to be a test of my loyalty to him. I couldn't tell him anything worth anything, obviously. I don't know any of that. I don't know why he even was asking about you, but he was relentless until he was sure I really didn't know anything beyond you being a brilliant witch with decent dueling skills."

"Oh, what high praise," Layla drawled.

Regulus shrugged. "The point is that I think you should take Malfoy's offer. You'll be much safer as a Malfoy."

"I'm seventeen," Layla said. "It'd be incredibly stupid to get married at seventeen. And how old is Malfoy anyway?"

Regulus thought for a moment. "Twenty-three, I think."

"Exactly. We're way too young, and he's a lot older than me."

"So?"

"So, people don't get married at our age anymore, and certainly not when they're not in love."

"So, fall in love with him," Regulus advised with a smirk as he turned away from his own now empty plate in favor of attacking Layla's French toast.

Layla shook her head. "How exactly am I supposed to force that?"

Regulus shrugged. "I'm sixteen, and I've never had a girlfriend. How the hell should I know?" Layla couldn't help a small laugh at that. "Seriously though, I don't know anything about marrying for love, except that everyone in my family who did ended up married to blood traitors and… Muggle-borns," he said, choosing his words carefully. "They all ended up disowned, blasted off the family tree. But everyone else went with arranged marriages, and they're all fairly happy with their spouses. It's always somehow turned out a good match. Especially Bellatrix and Rodolphus; they're bloody perfect for each other." Layla nodded slowly, frowning. "Just don't dismiss the idea because you're not in love with him. You can always marry him and fall in love later. You don't know him well enough to fall for him yet anyway. You never know." Layla sighed, dissatisfied with Regulus's perfectly reasonable answer precisely because it was so reasonable. Deciding she'd have to continue thinking it over, she grabbed Regulus's fork away from him, stealing the bite of her French toast he'd taken from her plate. She smirked at the pout on the sixth year's face, more satisfied with their usual games.

November 26, 1977

"Potter passes the Quaffle to Black. Black dodges around Moss; he may have the goal. Black takes the shot – oh! And he's shut down by Danes! Danes now in possession of the Quaffle, she passes it out to Jones. Jones makes a run for the other end of the pitch, whoa! Jones barely misses a blow to the head from Carter's bludger, and she passes the Quaffle to Moss. Moss tosses the Quaffle wildly at the goals, and – wow! He makes the shot! That's another ten points to Ravenclaw, leaving the score 70 Ravenclaw to 20 Gryffindor."

"Oh! Here we go! Lovegood may have spotted the snitch. But let's be real here, is Lovegood really a reliable seeker with all the little creatures he's constantly spotting that are invisible to the rest of us? Black and Potter passing the Quaffle back and forth between them, deftly dodging the best efforts of Ravenclaw's chasers to steal and entirely ignoring open Gryffindor chaser Bonnie Goodwin. Black and Potter slip past Moss, and oops! They've both entered the scoring area; Potter takes the shot. Danes moves to block – ouch! And she's knocked sideways by Black! Come on, Black; you're not playing for Slytherin! Madam Hooch is calling fouls against Danes. Ravenclaw to receive two penalty shots for Gryffindor's stooging and Black's blatching. Gryffindor to receive no points for Potter's last shot, leaving it 70 to 20."

"Now 80 to 20 following Ravenclaw's penalty shots, Gryffindor once again in possession of the Quaffle. Looks like Lovegood might be after the snitch, for real this time, as Gryffindor seeker Stirling is following close behind him. Potter manages to enter the scoring area alone this time, well done, boys. He takes the shot; Danes goes for the block. Merlin! And a well-timed bludger from one Gryffindor beater Marlene McKinnon hits Danes in the arm. Looks like a broken arm from here; don't worry, Danes, Madam Pomfrey will have that set to rights in a matter of seconds, but not till the game's over!"

"Lucky for Danes, Lovegood has caught the Golden Snitch! Can't believe he pulled that off! Ravenclaw wins, 230 to 30, a margin of 200 points. Well done, Ravenclaw!"

By the time Layla's feet touched solid ground again, Malfoy was already at the edge of the pitch with Madam Pomfrey. How, she didn't know, and she honestly didn't care as she held back tears. The fifth year Hufflepuff who had been commentating the game had been slightly off — it wasn't Layla's arm that was broken, it was her left wrist and hand. Malfoy and the Madam Pomfrey rushed over to her as the rest of her Quidditch team began to land around her, all fretting over her arm. Layla let out a whimper of pain as Madam Pomfrey took hold of the wrist she had been clutching to her chest since the bludger's initial impact. However, a wave of the mediwitch's wand later, Layla was healed, whole, and pain-free. Malfoy pulled Layla in for a hug then, and Layla willingly indulged him, allowing the moment of affection. "Beautiful game, dearest," Malfoy said in her ear, though she barely heard him over the clamor of the crowd forming around them.

"Thanks," Layla replied easily, giving him a genuine smile as he pulled back.

Regulus appeared next to her from – well, Layla hadn't a clue where he'd come from. "Are you ok?" he demanded, and Layla nodded, showing him her wrist where the bludger had hit her for his own reassurance. He nodded, satisfied, then said, "Sirius and Potter are complete gits. Playing dirty like that."

Layla shrugged. "Well, playing nice wasn't getting them anywhere," she laughed. "Playing dirty is their natural reaction I'm sure when they don't get their way easy enough."

Malfoy laughed aloud at that, the most relaxed Layla could remember ever seeing him. Regulus teased, "Well, don't get too cocky, missy. Don't forget; you haven't faced Slytherin yet. And Lovegood doesn't stand a bloody chance against me."

Glancing over her shoulder at Xenophilius Lovegood, the sweet, well-meaning, but a bit batty, seventh year Ravenclaw seeker, Layla stifled a laugh and admitted, "Yeah, you're probably right about that, truth be told."

December 18, 1977

Layla was hanging on Regulus's arm in the Entrance Hall as they headed down to the train station to head back to King's Cross for Christmas break when the tall, imposing woman blocked their path. "Layla Danes?" she said, though Layla thought she sounded perfectly confident that she'd found the right girl. Layla nodded, denial seeming useless. "I need you to come with me, Miss Danes," the brunette said, leaving no room for questions.

Naturally, Layla felt the need to question this stranger anyway. "Depends on where you're going," Layla said, her confidence boosted by Regulus at her side.

"It's nothing important," the woman said. "My name is Emmeline Vance. Professor Dumbledore asked me to bring you to his office before the Hogwarts Express departs for London today."

Regulus argued, "But the train is leaving in half an hour. She won't make it in time if she detours all the way to Dumbledore's office."

"Professor Dumbledore will ensure that Miss Danes arrives in time to depart on the train," Vance reassured him. "But please, Miss Danes, it's not a request. I need you to come with me now."

And with that, Layla was swept away from Regulus up to Dumbledore's office, where she was a bit surprised to find herself surrounded by several older witches and wizards, including one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, who sat behind his desk with a cup of tea and a sparkle in his eye that screamed "mischief" to Layla. "Thank you for joining us today, Miss Danes," Dumbledore said cheerily.

"Why am I here?" Layla asked suspiciously as she sat in the chair in front of the headmaster's desk. After all, Dumbledore had been essentially ignoring her existence the whole term, so what had changed that he would pay attention to her now?

Dumbledore answered, "I thought it was time you were introduced to a few members of the Order of the Phoenix."

"No offense, sir," Layla said. "But maybe the right time to introduce me to Order members would have been when I first came to you at the start of term. Right now, I'm supposed to be on a train going home for Christmas."

"That is precisely why this is the appropriate moment," Dumbledore said with a slight grin. He took a sip of his tea. "You have no home to go to for Christmas, after all, so there's no worry about you missing the train."

Layla argued, "Actually, sir, I do have plans for the holidays."

"Oh, I'm sure your friends will forgive your absence," Dumbledore said, waving his hand dismissively. "But I'm afraid this takes precedence. The Order needs your help, Miss Danes."

It dawned on Layla exactly what was really happening at that moment. With Malfoy showing up to her Quidditch game three weeks ago and Dumbledore's Order members hiding everywhere, surely Dumbledore had noticed Layla's developing attachment to Lucius Malfoy, and even more so to Regulus Black. And she already knew that quite a few people had spotted her "partying" with the LeStrange and Black families at Halloween. She was aware that she was starting to develop a rather dark reputation – a reputation she naturally didn't care for or believe entirely accurate, but a reputation none the less. Layla folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her seat as she said, "Oh, well that's a shame, since I don't know anything that will help the Order in any way, as we already established during our first meeting in September."

Dumbledore grew more serious. "We believe you might, Miss Danes. Furthermore, your current social ties raise questions about your personal safety."

"Rest assured, Professor," Layla said firmly. "There is no reason for you to be concerned about my safety."

"I believe I will decide that for myself," Dumbledore said, dismissing Layla's words yet again, irritating her. "Are you aware that there is a rumor circling the school that you and one Mr. Lucius Malfoy are dating, possibly engaged?"

Layla narrowed her eyes. "I'm aware such a rumor exists."

"Are you also aware, Miss Danes, that Mr. Malfoy is also a suspected Death Eater?" a redheaded man standing behind Professor Dumbledore asked her, a little more hot-tempered. He looked a lot like the Weasley twins to Layla, so she guessed he was probably related to the Weasleys.

Tilting her head, Layla replied coldly, "Half the population of the wizarding world suspects the other half of being Death Eaters, but I believe you need proof to make such accusations stick."

The man shook his head as Dumbledore addressed her again. "It was my understanding at the start of term that you desired to join the Order of the Phoenix at the nearest opportunity. This is your chance to do so, Miss Danes."

Layla hesitated. Ever since her fifth year, all she'd wanted to do was join the Order and fight back. Fight for what was right, fight for her family, for her safety, for her freedom. She was a muggleborn, after all, and would face nothing but Azkaban or death under Voldemort's regime. But that had all changed when she'd been thrust twenty years into the past. Layla Emerson no longer existed; she was no longer a muggleborn facing the threat of execution. The scars spelling "mudblood" on her left arm would forever remind her of her past, but it was no longer who she was, either. She was a halfblood with a chance at freedom, with a chance to make a choice. Yes, Voldemort and his Death Eaters were still monsters, and she could never become a Death Eater. But the Order of the Phoenix was no longer something she wanted to join. The desire to fight a war no longer made her blood boil; it only made her tremble with fear.

Shaking her head, Layla answered, "Thank you, but no. I've had more time to think since then, and I want no part of this war, on either side. When graduation comes, I'm going to find a nice quiet safe place to settle down and live out my life."

She may have been mistaken, but she thought she saw a brief look of frustration cross Dumbledore's face. "Please reconsider, Miss Danes," Dumbledore asked. "The Order needs your help. Your specific knowledge of the future needs to be utilized in the fight for the greater good."

Layla scoffed. "The greater good? I dedicated my life far too young to fighting for your 'greater good' for over two years, Professor Dumbledore. I'm no longer willing to put my life on the line in order to save total strangers when I already know that nothing I can do will change a thing. I'm of no more use to you than any other seventh year student."

"You know who lives and who dies," Emmeline Vance argued. "You know all about the key battles and strategies of this war. You could warn us when he's going to hit us and where. You could save hundreds of lives."

"I can save no one," Layla snapped. "I never knew much about any of that. I don't know hardly anything about this war you are fighting now, and nothing I know will help you or them."

Silence filled the room as Dumbledore evaluated Layla. Layla tapped her fingers on her arm nervously, anxious to leave and head home. It was almost impossible to believe, but Malfoy had been right. Layla wanted nothing more right now than to return to the relative safety of Malfoy Manor and its owner. Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid I'll have to be the judge of that."

Layla bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Dumbledore said tiredly. "That you will be staying here, at the school, over the course of the holidays, with the Order of the Phoenix, where I can conduct experiments to test your knowledge of Voldemort and his forces. Between interviews, of course, you will be free to wander the castle escorted by two Order members."

Unable to believe her ears, Layla accused, "By interviews, of course, you mean interrogations. You're going to force the information you want from me."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Judging from what we discussed at the start of term about your conversations with Lucius Malfoy, it should not take any more than asking a few questions."

"And when you're wrong about that, because, you are," Layla said angrily. "You'll what, Dumbledore? Torture me? Slip me more Veritaserum? Put me under the Imperius Curse?"

"No," Dumbledore said calmly. "I believe Legilimency would better serve our purposes."

A short, humorless laugh escaped her. "You'll get nothing from me," Layla said determinedly.

"We will see," Dumbledore said as he stood. "Miss Vance, if you would and Mr. Prewett would be so kind as to be the first to look after Miss Danes."

December 24, 1977

Drenched in sweat, Layla slumped in a chair in Dumbledore's office, having successfully resisted the headmaster's attempts at jailbreaking her memories once again. The professor sighed as he seated himself in his chair behind his desk. Layla didn't have to look behind her to know that Edgar Bones and Alice Longbottom were still guarding the office door behind her. For what felt like the millionth time, Dumbledore implored, "Please, Miss Danes. We've been at this for a week now. This would be much simpler if you would cooperate."

Exhausted, Layla said, "I have no reason to cooperate, Professor Dumbledore. I have no information to give you, and certainly, no reason to share my personal memories with you."

Dumbledore said, "Can't you see? You may know something without even truly knowing what you know. If I could only examine your mind, I may be able to determine if there's something of legitimate use to the Order hiding in your past. You must help us, for the greater good of all."

Layla scoffed, "Is that how you justify abduction and invasion of privacy, Professor? The greater good? How many times has that logic backfired on you? Maybe it's you who needs a reminder on the truth about doing what's right."

Alice demanded from the doorway, "Layla, it's a matter of life and death for most of us. I became both an auror and an Order member to be able to preserve justice for kids like you. At least help us bring down Malfoy and his friends as Death Eaters. We know you know whether or not Malfoy is a Death Eater; we know you've seen the evidence. We believe you may even hold evidence of Death Eaters as students inside this very school. Help us arrest them and keep this school safe for all the halfblood and muggleborn students who live here."

Layla shook her head angrily. Despite having no love of Death Eaters, she did care a great deal about Malfoy and Regulus. "Never," Layla said firmly. "I'll never talk, about anything."

Dumbledore sighed and waved his hand, apparently to cut off whatever Alice had planned to say next. "Very well," he said, cool and collected. "Mrs. Longbottom, Mr. Bones, let us step into the corridor for a moment to discuss new tactics. Perhaps it is time for more drastic steps."

As Dumbledore walked past her and the office door opened, Layla sneered, "Oh, take your time. I'll just be here, held hostage and under duress. Nothing wrong with torturing teenagers for information, right? I mean, hey, at least there's been no Unforgivable Curses yet! No knives, no torture devices. Hell, maybe you should give Bellatrix a few lessons in interrogation since you're so much more successful at it!"

The door shut behind her without a response to her mocking, and Layla breathed out a sigh of relief. It was her first moment alone in the week since Dumbledore had forced her to stay behind for Christmas break – well, not entirely alone; Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, still sat on his perch behind the desk, staring at her. She hadn't even been allowed to stay in her dorm in Ravenclaw; apparently, it was too risky to allow the other students staying for the holidays to be aware of her presence. Someone might alert one of Layla's "Death Eater friends." Instead, she'd been held captive in some random tower near the Divinations classroom she'd never explored. It was nicer than one would expect when being held captive. The bedroom and attached restroom had all the same accommodations as the Ravenclaw tower with the exception of a fireplace. Her meals had all been delivered to her new room or Dumbledore's office, depending on where she was at the time. Hogwarts food was amazing as always, but she had to admit, she missed a good, greasy, Muggle delivery pizza.

The thing that surprised her most, however, was that no one from the Order had even thought to take her wand away, which had been the Snatchers' first move. Layla had to assume that the Order must have believed that she was an innocent young girl who knew she was proverbially out-gunned, surrounded by the various aurors and other warriors who made up the Order of the Phoenix, and aware that it would be foolish to attempt to battle her way out to escape. But the Order was wrong. Just because she was smart enough to not try to take them all head-on and fight her way out, didn't mean she wouldn't attempt to escape. And of course, she knew that there was no way Malfoy or Regulus could come back here and save her. She was on her own.

Which meant she only had one method of escape at the moment, and it was giving her flashbacks to her fifth year, when she had been caught by Umbridge trying to help Harry Potter contact his godfather. Oh, her Dumbledore's Army days… If only she'd realized how foolish and idealistic they all were back then. Layla shook her head, shaking off the thoughts. She had made the right choices then, but the circumstances were different now, and she had an opportunity to take advantage of.

Layla stood up and hurried across the room to the large roaring fireplace the moment the office door shut. Luckily, the headmaster kept his Floo Powder in the same spot as he had during her early Hogwarts years, and she scooped a handful. As she tossed the powder into the fire, Fawkes let out a loud, ear-piercing cry, that made Layla stop and cover her ears as the fire exploded into green flames. Nearly instantly, the office door was flung open, and a red jet of light flew at Layla. She blocked the onslaught with a silent Shield Charm, muttered, "Malfoy Manor," under her breath, stepped back into the Floo Network, and was gone in a rush of green flame just before a white mist engulfed the spot where she'd previously stood.

Layla tumbled out of the fireplace into the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor with a loud crash, knocking over a nearby coat rack. Soot choked her, and she struggled to cough it all out of her throat as she heard a clamor from down the corridor. Just as she finally started to breathe normally again, Malfoy had spotted her. "Layla!" He was on her in seconds, helping her up and holding her close to his chest. Even though there was still a part of herself that hated the way she was feeling, it was a relief to be back in Malfoy Manor with Lucius Malfoy. "What the hell happened to you?" Malfoy demanded, squeezing her tightly.

Layla rested her head on his muscular chest as she answered, "Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix decided it was time I did something for 'the greater good,' apparently. AKA, them."

"The Order of the Phoenix has been holding you hostage?" Malfoy snarled bitterly. Layla nodded. "Where?"

"Hogwarts," Layla answered.

"Well, that certainly explains why I couldn't find you," Malfoy said bitterly. "I did try to find you, you know, but every spell and charm I used in an attempt to locate you were blocked. Why did they take you?"

"Ah, Miss Layla Danes," a cold voice came from a few feet away and sent a violent shiver down Layla's spine. She turned her head toward the voice and found herself locking eyes with a red reptilian gaze that unnerved her, and she knew instinctively that she must be looking into the eyes of none other than Lord Voldemort. "That is an excellent question. Why did Dumbledore deem you worth enough to kidnap, and how did you escape?"

Panic gripped her throat, paralyzing her vocal chords as she came face to face with the man who had haunted her worst nightmares since her fifth year at Hogwarts. After her moment of hesitation, she felt Voldemort's eyes piercing her and the sensation of another life force probing her mind, and immediately she threw up her defensive walls, focusing entirely on repeating as many Sir Arthur Conan Doyle quotes as she could remember. It wasn't her best mental shield, but it was effective enough to cut off Voldemort's attack. The older wizard smiled, and if it weren't for the eyes, one could almost believe him your typical kindly middle-aged wizard. "I see. An Occlumens. Certainly, a valuable talent, though you could use more training. Not strong enough to truly keep me out if I wished to force my way in, but enough to perhaps keep the likes of Albus Dumbledore out, correct?"

Layla nodded slowly. Malfoy brought her attention back to him, fully aware of how much Layla feared and hated Voldemort. "What happened?" Malfoy asked, his hand on her cheek and pulling her gaze back to his.

Layla let out a breath she hadn't realized been holding, then answered quietly, "They wanted to turn me against you, Lucius. They were convinced that they could break me, convince me to give them evidence that you were a Death Eater that they could use to have you arrested by the aurors. They even tried to make me tell them the names of any Death Eaters who were still students at Hogwarts and rid the castle of them for good, but I refused."

"Why?"

Malfoy glanced at Voldemort, confused. "My Lord?"

"Why refuse to aid the Order of the Phoenix?" Voldemort asked again. "After all, there was no threat of violence, was there? No one you loved who would be put in danger should you help them? No blackmail? No impending torture should you prove uncooperative? So then, what was your motivation to refuse Dumbledore's seemingly reasonable request?"

More prepared this time, Layla managed to speak directly to Voldemort. "Because it would have put the only people I care about in danger to give that information."

"And who might that be?"

Layla chose that moment to give a full and honest answer. "Lucius Malfoy and Regulus Black, of course." After a moment's hesitation, she added, "They were attempting to retrieve the information they wanted through Legilimency, but I managed to thwart all attempts thankfully. They made the mistake of leaving me alone in Dumbledore's office for just a moment while deciding what method of extraction to try next when I managed to just give them the slip into the Floo Network."

Voldemort nodded, and Layla felt another painful stab at her mind from the Dark Lord. She steadfastly resisted, focusing with all her might on the lyrics of some Van Halen song she knew by heart. Voldemort laughed lightly. "Very well, then," he declared. "You might be a promising young witch, after all, Miss Danes; I'd even dare to say that you're worthy of marrying Lucius."

The comment about marrying Malfoy caught Layla off guard, but she did her best to brush it off. "Thank you," she said softly, unwilling to risk offending one of the darkest wizards to ever live.

Malfoy gave her waist a reassuring squeeze just as Voldemort said to him, "Lucius, I believe our business is concluded for the day. Attend to your witch, and I will let you know when I need you again."

Malfoy inclined his head. "Of course. Thank you, my lord."

Voldemort gave a brief nod before he brushed past the other two and left out the front door. Layla let out a huge sigh of relief at his departure. She threw her arms around Malfoy's neck and hugged him as tight as she could. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled as guilt and exhaustion started to take control.

Malfoy asked, puzzled, "Whatever do you mean?"

"I was wrong about you. For like, a really long time," Layla admitted. "Yeah, ok, to be fair, the adult version of you that I grew up knowing was a complete and total asshole and deserved every bit of hate, but you aren't him. And the way you've clearly had to fight for me and protect me at every freaking turn, just… Thank you. I think I have a little better idea of what you must've been going through all this time now."

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy said, pulling back from her hug and holding her at arm's length to get a better look at her.

Layla glanced around. "It is safe to talk openly now, right?" Malfoy nodded. "I lied to Voldemort. It wasn't just about keeping you and Regulus safe. Dumbledore and the Order know about my time-travel secret."

Malfoy sighed. "The Veritaserum incident LeStrange informed me of, with Black at the start of term."

Layla nodded. "I should've told you. It wasn't just with Black. It was Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew too, but most importantly, it was Dumbledore. Dumbledore gave me the Veritaserum and questioned me, to prove that my story about time travel was true."

Malfoy closed his eyes for a moment to contain his frustration. When he opened them, he only asked, "Why?"

Shamefaced, Layla answered, "I was absolutely bloody terrified of you then. And I can't blame myself, seeing as two seconds before you and I met, an older version of you was supervising Bellatrix LeStrange in torturing me for information on Dumbledore's Army. All of those people were friends of my friends, Order members, in my time, and I stupidly thought I was better off trusting them than you. Obviously, that was a big mistake."

"Obviously," Malfoy agreed as he ushered her into the sitting room. "But it's too late to do anything about it now."

"Voldemort is bound to find out the truth about me if the entire Order knows," Layla worried. "I know he's got spies within the Order."

Malfoy thought about that for a moment. "If he does, it's news to me," Malfoy said honestly. "But it's possible. I'm certain if he doesn't, it's a goal he's hoping to accomplish as soon as possible."

"What do we do if he finds out?"

Malfoy sat her down on the sofa next to him, pulling her close to him again. "No matter what happens, I will protect you, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said gently. "For now, I'm just relieved to have you home safe."

A warm fire crackled in the fireplace in front of them. After a beat, Layla whispered, "Me too." She snuggled closer to Malfoy, surprised with how much safer and more respected she felt here with him than she had with any of the Order members she'd met. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Layla said, "Umm, Malfoy?"

"Hmm?"

"I've been thinking about what you said. About how I'd be safest if I married you," Layla said softly. "And I don't know what this is with us. I mean, we're friends now, I think, but I don't know if we could ever be anything more. But I also think you have a good point, that the safest thing for me would be to marry a Death Eater."

"What are you implying, dearest?" Malfoy pressed, sitting up more.

Layla sat up and disentangled herself from his grasp. "I'm saying that maybe you're right. Maybe I don't have to be in love with someone to marry them to secure a safe, loving home for myself. But…" She paused and took a breath. "Doing that is a definite risk. And to be honest, I just don't know if I can take that risk with you. You've been so kind and caring and, well, just so different than I could've ever expected, but I just… I don't know if I could ever manage to fully shake off the past, or, well, the future, whatever. I just worry that I'd always be at least a little afraid that one day I'll wake up and you'll have turned into him."

"That would never happen," Malfoy insisted, taking her hand in his. "I don't know what could have happened to me to turn me into the monster of a man that you knew, but now that you're here, I don't believe that anything could ever change me so drastically."

Layla sighed. "Yes, but even if that never happens, I don't want to live in a constant state of anxiety."

"It's a calculated risk, Layla," Malfoy said firmly. "But it's worth it to ensure your own personal safety and comfort for the rest of your life."

"Exactly!" Layla said. "It's the rest of my life. It's not as though if I marry you and it doesn't work out, I can just walk away, not when it would put my life in jeopardy. If I'm going to have to take that calculated risk, I'd rather take it with…" she trailed off, unsure if she really ought to say what she'd been about to say.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh, no, please, dearest, tell me. Who would you rather trust over me to take such a permanent risk with?"

Layla swallowed, then admitted, "Regulus. I'd rather take the chance on Regulus." Surprise, then hurt, crossed Malfoy's face, and Layla felt a little guilty for hurting his feelings. "I'm sorry; it's just… Well, I know him. And I don't have a past with him that conflicts with the reality of now like I do you. We're already such good friends and get along so well, and I trust him. I mean, I don't know if he'd really have any interest in the idea… But I can see myself being comfortable spending my life hanging out with him, even if we never actually fell in love or anything…"

Malfoy laughed darkly. "You're fooling yourself if you think you could secure a marriage to Regulus Black," Malfoy said. "His family would never allow it. Perhaps I've misled you about exactly how much room you have to operate independently within the Death Eaters. Let me make it clearer for you, my dearest: you're a halfblood. Better than a mudblood, yes, but still not good enough to be a pureblood, and certainly not one of the purest houses of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Regulus Black is too good for you, and his family will not hesitate to inform you of that fact."

"You're a pureblood, too," Layla argued, pulling her hand free of Malfoy's. "What, I'm good enough for you but not for him?"

"Precisely!" Layla huffed as Malfoy leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "He's a Black, for Merlin's sake. Don't forget, his cousin Narcissa already drugged you and set you up to be raped to punish you for a perceived slight. Bellatrix is his cousin as well, and you still bear the marks of what she did to you. And I promise you, Bellatrix is as cruel and vicious as ever, if a little less mad than when you knew her. Regulus's mother is worse than any of them, and she will not hesitate to kill a halfblood like you before ever allowing him to tarnish her bloodline with you. Whether you plan to ever have children with him or not is irrelevant. On the other hand, the Malfoy family is not as heavily invested in pureblood ideology, which means that we can get away with tossing the occasional halfblood or mudblood into the family tree as long as it makes the tree grow stronger."

"Oh, that's bloody absurd," Layla snapped in frustration.

"It might very well be bloody absurd," Malfoy bit back. "But it's the facts of the situation."

Rolling her eyes, Layla said, "Whatever. I'm going to my room. I need a shower."

Sighing, Malfoy slumped back onto the couch. "Very well then. Go."

Storming off, Layla got lost about halfway to her bedroom and had to call Dobby the house elf to guide her back to the bedroom she hadn't seen since the start of the school year. When she made it there, she immediately turned to the fireplace and the small bowl of Floo Powder on the mantle. As Dobby left, she flicked a small amount of the powder into the already roaring fire and called Regulus's name. A few short minutes later, Regulus stepped out of her fireplace. "Layla!" he exclaimed, stepping up and hugging her tightly. "Oh, thank Merlin, you're safe. I was so worried about you!"

Layla threw her arms around his neck and hugged him back as hard as she could. "I'm so sorry, Regulus," she said, breathing her own sigh of relief.

"What happened? Are you ok?" Regulus demanded, letting her go and moving to sit on the foot of her bed. Layla sat down next to him as she explained the ambush that had awaited her in Dumbledore's office and the way things had only escalated from there. "So, wait," Regulus said. "Why is Dumbledore so interested in you? I mean, there's plenty of students who are friends with Slytherins who are suspected to be Death Eaters. Why would he focus so intensely on you?"

Layla hesitated to answer. She wanted to tell Regulus the truth about her past, but she knew that could only further complicate both of their lives. So, she lied, "I'm really not sure. I guess maybe it's that I've been kind of noticeably emotionally fragile. I think he thought I might be easy to break. Plus, I'd shown interest in being part of the Order of the Phoenix in the past, so he thought it might be easy to make me his spy or something? I don't know. But whatever it was, he was wrong. I didn't give them anything, no matter what they did to me to try to break me."

"But why?" Regulus asked. "I mean, I thought the Order was what you wanted. And you can't stand Death Eaters; I know that for sure. Why not just turn Lucius and the rest of the lot in as Death Eaters?"

"Because," Layla said impatiently. "That would have meant turning you in, too, stupid. And I wasn't going to betray you like that. You mean too much to me."

Regulus shook his head. "But if you'd rather be part of the Order, then maybe you should have –"

"I wouldn't rather be part of the Order, though. I'd rather not be on anyone's side and just leave this whole stupid bloody war behind," Layla admitted. "But that's looking less and less like a realistic daydream every day." Sighing, Layla leaned against Regulus's shoulder. "Honestly, at this point, I just want to feel safe. I don't want to keep having to look over my shoulder every damn day."

Putting his arm around her shoulders, Regulus said, "Well, Malfoy can give you that, easy. If you accept his marriage proposal, anyway. Money, status, respect among the Dark Lord's followers, safety, a good home. He can give you everything a girl can dream of."

Layla scoffed, "Yeah, good old Malfoy. Always there with a pretty word and plenty of gold, always leaving you to wonder at exactly what precise moment he'll snap and take his anger out on you."

Brows furrowing, Regulus asked, "He's not hurt you, has he?"

Layla shook her head. "No, no, of course not," she said quietly. "I just… I don't know. It's not that I think he'd ever hurt me, it's just… ugh, I don't know. It's like you said, he cares more about collecting power for the Malfoy name than about me. Not to say that he doesn't care about me or isn't good to me, but…" Layla met Regulus's gaze. "Damn it, I don't want to marry him, Regulus. It just doesn't feel like the right choice."

Regulus paused, and Layla could see the gears trying to turn in two different directions in his head. Finally, he said, "But what if it's the only choice, Layla? What if there are no other options?"

Layla hesitated half a second before placing her hand on Regulus's knee. "But what if there are?" she asked quietly, her eyes dropping to the Persian rug on the floor. "I mean, we've talked about this before, that I don't love Malfoy."

"Yeah, and I said that you should try to learn to love him," Regulus said, his voice thick with emotion.

"But I don't want to," Layla said quietly. "I'd rather… I'd rather try to learn to love someone else…" She chanced a glance up at Regulus's face then. He seemed frozen in place, and she thought she saw just a hint of tears in his eyes. Growing a little braver, she continued, "If I have to take the chance on marrying a Death Eater to preserve my own safety, I'd rather take that chance with you."

Regulus shook his head, confused. "But… you said that you didn't see me like that. You said I was like a brother to you."

Increasingly nervous, Layla wrapped her arms around her own chest tightly. "Yeah, well… I was kind of lying when I said that I couldn't see us as a couple. I just, I didn't know for sure what I wanted, and I just… I thought I'd rather disappoint you than lead you on."

"And now?"

"Now…" Regulus stared at his hands in his lap as she answered, "Honestly, I still don't entirely know what I want in life. But I know that if I'm going to pick someone to spend the rest of my life next to, I'd rather it be my best friend than someone I barely know."

Regulus thought about it for a moment, then sighed sadly. "Yeah, me too," he admitted, his voice so low Layla almost missed it. Then he looked up at her and said a little louder, "But we can't. It's too dangerous for you to be with me. My mother… she'd never approve."

"That's what Malfoy said, too, when I told him."

Regulus's eyes widened. "You told Malfoy you'd rather be with me?" Layla nodded. Regulus groaned, planting his elbows on his thighs so he could cradle his head in his hands. "I wish you hadn't done that." After a moment's thought, he looked up and added, "Don't get me wrong. I love that you were willing to say that and tell Malfoy to shove off, it's just… Well, he's probably right. He's a safer choice than me. My family would not react well to the idea of me being with a halfblood, not to mention I have another year of school to do after you graduate, and I wouldn't be able to keep you safe for a whole other year. It's just not practical."

"I'd take emotionally practical over materially practical," Layla said.

"Yeah, but I don't have that option," Regulus said, snapping at her a little more than he'd likely intended. "Maybe if Sirius had been the proper pureblood older brother he was expected to be, but he wasn't, and here we are. Now, I'm the one carrying all the family responsibilities, and Mother would never allow a halfblood to stain her precious family name."

Layla sighed as Regulus laid back on the bed tiredly. "Well, what do we do, then?" she asked, turning to look down at him.

Regulus shook his head. "I don't know."