Since I met you, I've been crazy; since I've been with you, I've been lost. You make everything seem so hazy; love comes with such a cost. Have I lost my mind?... Follow me down to the river; drink while the water is clean. Follow me down to the river tonight; I'll be down here on my knees. – The Pretty Reckless, Follow Me Down
July 1, 1978
Bright yellow daffodils bloomed like sunlight in the greenhouse, still brilliant and fresh, even out of season. Layla dared to touch one velvet petal, careful not to crush or tear it under her fingertips. The bell-shaped flower delicately shivered under her touch, seeming almost sentient, as though it recognized her from when she had planted its bulb over the Christmas holiday. It crossed her mind that someone would have had to apply more magic to the plant than she had for it to be blooming so soon. "Layla?"
Lucius's voice caught her attention, but before she could turn, his arms wrapped around her from behind, capturing her hands in his. The force of his embrace slightly tore the tender flower's petal, and she frowned. "You tore it," she fussed, mending the injury with her wand.
"My apologies, dearest. The photographer was complaining that he couldn't find you, so I volunteered myself for the task of retrieving you," he said with all the charismatic ease in the world.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Layla said softly as she ceased her spellwork. "I just… I needed a minute to breathe. To think."
Lucius frowned as she turned to face him. "That's quite all right. Is anything the matter?"
Shrugging, Layla answered truthfully, "Just anxious. This is… a lot. I'm not sure I'm really ready for this step."
Lucius smiled wryly. "Is anyone ever really?"
Layla laughed a little. "Maybe not." She looked around the greenhouse again. The soft rays of bright sunshine, the bloom of beautiful flowers, the humidity of summer… Then her eyes landed on Lucius Malfoy. In his black and gold suit and dress robes, he was the very picture of sin. The terrific image of darkness. A stark contrast to her shimmering golden white dress, the model of light and innocence, like a solar goddess incarnate.
"We can get through this," he reassured her, brushing a kiss on her cheek. Layla nodded, accepting his outstretched hand again. After a moment's thought, he plucked several of the daffodil blossoms, despite Layla's loud protests, simply laughing in response to her frustration. He turned to her and began delicately weaving the blooms into a light floral crown across her black hair. Tapping them with his wand to make certain the flowers stayed affixed with magic, he smiled at her. "There. Perfection." Layla blushed a little, letting him lead her from the greenhouses to rejoin the start of the wedding events.
Her bare forearm caught her eye as they reached the greenhouse door, and she blanched. "Wait."
Lucius stopped in his tracks and turned back to her. "What's wrong, dearest?"
"My arm," Layla despaired. "I tried, but no amount of makeup could cover…" She showed him the scars once again, trying not to show how deeply they still traumatized her.
"Oh, yes, of course; I nearly forgot." Lucius pulled a brilliant pink potion vial from his jacket pocket, gently took her arm, and dripped the potion across her scars. As he rubbed the concoction into her skin, she gasped as the scars faded and her skin returned to its original perfect state. "Be careful, darling," Lucius warned softly. "It's only an illusion, unfortunately. You'll want to be certain not to accidentally wash it off." Replacing the bottle into his jacket, he added, "I'll have it on me if something does happen though and you need more."
Layla nodded, tearing up a little, unsure if the emotional reaction was to seeing her wounds finally removed if but for a moment, or to the way Lucius so clearly cared about protecting her and making her happy. "Thank you," she whispered, then the two exited the greenhouse at last to meet the photographer and wedding party.
Layla took a shaky breath from where she stood near the wedding cake, her plastered smile falling for the first time that evening. The ceremony had flown by in such a whirl that she could hardly even remember it happening or what vows they had given, only the brief kiss at the end. The potion Lucius had smeared on her arm continued to magically blur the skin along the inside of her forearm back to smooth perfection. But with every little touch, every brush against her dress, she could still feel the ridges and lines scarred deep into her flesh. Across the massive canopy set up in the garden of Malfoy Manor, Lucius smiled and made small talk with yet another Ministry politician, some older, graying gentlemen from the Department of Mysteries, Augustus Rookwood.
Layla's dress glimmered with golden light under the illumination of the tent as she slipped over to the food table, sneaking a strawberry to her ruby lips. She sensed someone stop next to her, and with an intake of air, she prepared to fake another smile and accept more congratulations. When she turned, she found Regulus instead of yet another insipid party guest, and she breathed a small sigh of relief, letting her face relax as she took a small serving of pomegranate. He smirked a little at her. "Rough night?" he teased.
"Always," Layla complained, spooning the messy fruit from her bowl to her mouth. With a quick glance around to ensure no one would overhear, she murmured to him, "These people are truly intolerable. Am I seriously expected to pal around with these people the rest of my life?"
Regulus grinned, holding in a laugh. "They are all rather tiresome, aren't they?" Layla smiled her first true smile of the night as she ditched the empty pomegranate cup on a nearby empty table. "Don't worry; it's getting rather late, and the wine and liquor are getting to a lot of the guests. I imagine you'll be leaving for your honeymoon soon."
Layla froze for a moment, then chewed thoughtfully on her freshly chosen raspberry. "I hadn't considered that," she said, her cheeks flushing.
Regulus raised an eyebrow at her. "That you'll be leaving the wedding soon?"
"That there would be a honeymoon."
Regulus tilted his head, confused. "Malfoy seriously didn't discuss it with you?"
"There was always school and other… stuff," Layla excused, albeit lamely, as she wiped the fruit juices from her fingers on a cloth napkin she'd snatched from a nearby table. "I didn't think to ask." When she turned back to the small buffet bar, Regulus was there, offering her a glass of champagne. She took it gratefully and drank deeply from the flute. When the glass was empty, she handed it back to him, and he took it with a tinge of worry in his eyes. She shook her head, more to clear her own head than anything. "It's fine, Regulus; really," she insisted. She looked around the canopy. She'd lost track of where Lucius was, but as Regulus predicted, the crowd had thinned out as people began to feel tipsy and head home. "I need some air," Layla mumbled halfheartedly to Regulus, who nodded and watched her head out of the tent.
Layla wandered the grounds slowly, drifting far enough away that the noise and the lights and the music of the wedding party no longer reached her. Instead, she found herself at the edge of a quietly flowing river. Glancing up at the sky, the moon was nearly blotted out as its cycle approached the new moon. The small sliver of light still reflected its silver gleam on the water, giving the impression of the mythical river Lethe. Layla wondered absently if the Wizarding World had its own ideas on gods and the afterlife. Nearby, shadows fluttered in leafy trees as the wind gently brushed through their branches and Layla's perfectly sculpted loose curls. The cool night air was a relief on her skin, overheated from the festivities that felt more like certain doom to Layla. She shivered and kicked off her golden stilettos in favor of bare feet, for just a minute she told herself. The water tempted her, to wade in its shallows, to cross the river, to forget all that she'd seen and done, to escape this wizarding hell…
"Dearest?" Lucius's voice soothed her inner voice, the one screaming for her to run, to bolt while she still could. That voice settled now as she tipped her head back to the stars again, her eyes easily detecting Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. A stray thought, curiosity about what a simple life as a bear might be like, floated to mind, but Lucius's call distracted her. "Layla?"
"I'm here," she said softly, unwilling to break the spell that the night had cast over her. The way the darkness called to her soul was too precious a connection to sever just yet.
"Is something the matter?" he asked, lowering his volume to match hers, as she heard the grass give softly under his feet as he walked over to her.
Layla finally turned to look at him and couldn't help the small gasp at the sight of him. Away from the harsh magical lights and the crowds, in the still, wild night, he no longer resembled the terrifying Death Eater she'd once fought in the Ministry of Magic. Tonight, out on the riverbank, he had a look of dark splendor, of night incarnate, majestic, beautiful, dangerous of another sort. And somehow… this man was hers. Layla trembled as he slipped his hand into hers, as his eyes seemed to pull her soul from her depths. She nearly forgot to answer his question, but at the squeeze of his hand, she remembered to breathe in again. "No, nothing," she lied, ignoring the rising panic in her throat. "Just needed air."
Lucius studied her intently, and though Layla was sure he knew the truth, he said nothing of it. "That's all right. The guests are leaving for the night, regardless. We don't have to go back to the party." Layla breathed a small sigh of relief, though she was inwardly a little sad that she hadn't gotten to say a proper goodbye to Regulus. Though, given it was her wedding day to another man… perhaps that was for the best. "Darling," his husky voice chased his breath to her ear as he leaned down. "I hope you know just how absolutely divine you look tonight."
Her eyes found the stars again as she tilted her head back, baring her throat to him as his lips found her pulse point. Vega, Altair, Deneb… the star and constellation names pulsed through her like a primal rhythm, rooting her to the moment, to the earth and the heavens, reminding her that she was human, that she was part of everything and that everything was part of her. He spoke of the divine… and it crossed her mind what sort of god Lucius would be. A god of riches, of the earth, of the underworld, of darkness, of sex, of long-lost wisdom and magics, of truth and lies, of death. A trickster spirit, offering temptation and power and knowledge at the measly price of her soul.
Lucius's hands slid down her torso to her hips, tightening and crinkling her dress in his fingers. Did she really look like some ancient goddess to him? Under the moonlight, her dress reflected tones of both gold and silver. The daffodil flowers in her hair, the stain of pomegranate and raspberry on her lips, was she the image of a solar goddess in his mind? A picture of divine innocence, of warmth and light and love?
Something locked into place, like a long-forgotten puzzle deep in her soul. No, she was not a goddess of light and flowers and romance; she was more than that. Her hands were stained with blood and rust; she craved his sin, his darkness, his deepest-held secrets. Her heart desperately longed for his chaos, his enticing power, his intoxicating presence. But more than that, more than him, she yearned for her own immense power, to rule whatever underworld there was in her own right, to be a dreadful and merciful queen of the night. To abandon roses in favor of nightshade, to abjure the harsh sunlight in favor of the gentler gaze of the moon, to cast out her pearls in favor of the emeralds that now hung from her neck and ears…
Layla would turn from the light, turn from goodness, in favor of vigilante justice, of destruction. She would rain fire and ruination on the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters, on anyone who stood between her and her love and the perfect world they desired… no, were destined to create. Chaos and trickery and darkness eternal, forever bringing the light and goodness into perfect balance. Delicious beauty and debilitating poison, wrapped in an intoxicating bow and delivered straight to the Dark Lord's doorstep.
"What would you like, dearest?" Lucius murmured against her throat.
Darkling, I listen; and for many a time, I have been half in love with easeful Death. Now, more than ever seems it rich to die. For a moment, she didn't answer him. "Eternity." The word dripped from her lips with a sardonic twist.
Nonetheless, Lucius replied, "Then you shall have it," before covering her mouth with his in a passionate kiss.
July 9, 1978
Bass thrummed through the air, turned up so loud that any possible lyrics were lost to the crowd. Layla wasn't sure where the shot glasses she and Lucius had just drained had disappeared, but she was well past the point of caring. For the first time in years, here in Amsterdam, Death Eaters didn't exist; the war didn't exist. Not for Layla Malfoy and her new husband. His inky arm tattoo meant nothing; Layla's scars were meaningless. There was only the music, the crowds, the lights, the magic. Layla had never known that for the rest of the wizarding world outside of the United Kingdom, there was no threat. Generally speaking, it seemed safe here to be a Muggleborn as much as a pureblood; no one asked because no one cared. Magic was not a weapon here, but an art. This was the magic that Layla had dreamed of becoming when she first received her Hogwarts letter; not an agent of destruction, but a renewer of beautiful, shining life.
Butterflies fluttered overhead in brilliant, impossible colors. From another direction, bubbles in impossible neons floated through the dancing crowd, charmed to never pop. Some of the crowd had begun to sing along with the Dutch pop song, apparently a popular tune. People shot a variety of colors of sparks from their wands at the starry sky, blissfully losing themselves in the noise and chaos and the magic.
Layla turned to look at Lucius, but fear gripped her heart when she found nothing but strangers. Somehow in her reverie, she had managed to get separated from her husband, lost in the crowd, and she wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't remember how to get back to their hotel, except maybe to apparate… which she was definitely too drunk to do. And that would mean leaving Lucius here alone, which couldn't possibly help matters. She took a steadying breath as a cute stranger, a girl Layla's own age with fiery red hair and freckles, invited her to dance in French. Or at least, she thought that's what the girl was trying to say when she took Layla's hand and pulled her further into the crowd, and started dancing. Laughing, Layla decided to go with it. The party wasn't that horribly big; Lucius would find her if she just stayed put, right?
The girl Layla danced with pulled her wand, and for a moment, panic tore through her, and she nearly pulled in her own in self-defense. Instead of the attack Layla instinctively expected, the girl cast a spell in the air, and a rainbow of birds burst from the tip of her wand with a flourish that reminded Layla of the Beauxbatons girls she'd met as a fourth year. Layla smiled and laughed, staring at the tiny songbirds in wonder. Then a hand landed heavily on her shoulder, and she squeaked as someone spun her around. She'd expected it to be Lucius; instead, it was a dark-haired stranger with no shirt. "Care for a potion, lovely?" he offered with a thick accent… German, maybe?
Layla backed up a step, but the man didn't let go of her shoulder. "I don't know," Layla said as an anxious tremor went down her spine. He gave her the same impression as the Snatchers who had caught her, now nearly a year ago.
"Aww, come on; don't be boring," he pressed. "I've got all the good stuff; the first one's free. Fairy Dust, Pixie Tears, Willow's Thorne, Sphinx Claw…"
Layla hesitated; she didn't know or trust this guy, but Willow's Thorne was tempting after her previous experience with the stuff. Shaking her head, she chose to stand her ground; she remembered Alecto's warning about how dangerous the stuff was if brewed incorrectly. But the girl she was dancing with cut her off. "Oh, give us two of the Pixie Tears, please," she said, her French accent so thick that Layla almost didn't even realize she had spoken English.
The man handed over the potions to the redhead in exchange for several galleons and then disappeared; apparently, she must have been a repeat customer. She handed one to Layla, who stared at it blankly, unsure. But then the girl counted down, and on the word drink, Layla caved to the peer pressure and tossed the small purple vial back. The liquid went down smooth, like dandelions and honeysuckle and summer, and a shiver chased it down her throat. "Layla!"
Fuck, Lucius sounded panicked. That was not a good sign for the quality of Layla's decision-making skills. She tried to turn to face him, but the French girl was tugging on her arms, trying to pull her closer. Layla resisted, but the potion was already making her feel hazy and weak. Then Lucius stepped between them, towering over the small redhead with just a hint of intimidation, but the girl remained undeterred. "Get lost; we are trying to have a good time," she snapped at him.
Layla laughed; this girl had no idea who she was messing with, obviously. Lucius snarled at her, "I'll thank you to unhand my wife before you get hurt, little girl." The young redhead rolled her eyes but let Layla go; apparently, it was too much of a bother to argue. Jealousy had never been a trait that Layla approved of, but in this instance, Lucius's territorial mood was simply delicious. He turned back to her, and the sexy mood that had taken over Layla's mind shattered at the genuine fear in Lucius's eyes. "What did she just give you?" he demanded, taking hold of Layla's shoulder to hold her now swaying body steady.
Her mind fumbled for the name of the potion; hadn't the other girl just said it? Her brain hurt trying to think of it. Where had the name gone? Her heart started racing as though she had just run a marathon, and her stomach turned. "I don't feel so good," she mumbled, the lights from the party now too bright and blurry.
Lucius's hand was cold on her face as he gently touched her cheek. "Darling, focus," he said, his voice full of worry. "Did you hear the potion name?" Layla nodded, screwing up her face as she tried her hardest to remember. "Come on, dearest. Cat Sidhe? Mermaid Scale?" Layla shook her head, though she was sure she'd recognize the name if he said it. "Fairy Dust? Pixie Tears?"
"Yes!" Layla accidentally shouted over the music, surprising herself with the volume. Someone jostled Layla from behind, pushing her toward her husband, dancing carelessly. "Yes, Pixie Tears," she repeated, quieter this time, flailing to grab hold of Lucius's forearms and steady her shaking form.
"Fuck," Lucius mumbled under his breath. Pulling her tightly to his chest, he disapparated from the crowd of witches and wizards, pulling her with him back to the alley by their hotel. She landed heavily, too heavily; the world felt tilted as if everything was turning sideways ever so slowly. She stumbled into Lucius, who still held her close, tears welling up in her eyes as the potion hit her. She wasn't sure she had felt this poorly since Rabastan LeStrange had dosed her at the Halloween party. "Steady, darling," Lucius said, soothing her hair. "It's ok; I've got you."
Keeping Layla close, Lucius helped her walk up to the hotel suite on her own two feet, but she struggled the whole way, stumbling every other step. Once in the elevator up, Layla leaned into Lucius's chest, burying her face in his shirt. He kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her. Tears slipped from her eyes as she shifted in and out of a haze; reality was starting to feel unreal, like she was dreaming… "I'm sorry," she mumbled into his shirt. No wonder Ravenclaw house had kicked her out; she was an idiot, and she knew it for sure now.
Lucius sighed heavily. "Let's just get to our room, dearest," he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair again. The elevator bell dinged as the doors opened to their floor, and he slowly led her to their room, slipped the key in the lock, and let themselves in. As soon as the door shut behind them, Lucius called for Dobby. The elf popped into the room, eager as always to please. As Layla slipped from his arms to climb onto the bed, Lucius wrote a small list on the hotel notepad and handed it to the house elf. "Bring us these items at once," he ordered, and the elf disapparated.
A hysterical giggle caught Lucius's attention from the bed. Layla had crawled onto the bed and was clinging to the pillow, struggling to stay seated upright. "I'm such a moron," she laughed, amused at her own stupidity. She absolutely knew better than to take an unfamiliar potion from a stranger; what the hell had she been thinking?
"It's all right," Lucius reassured, slipping to sit behind her on the bed. He encouraged her to lean back into his chest, and she let herself fall back, trusting him to hold her safely. "I can fix it. You're going to be just fine. I can fix it."
"She was so pretty," Layla whined, her stomach churning again. "She just seemed so certain of herself, like she knew what she was doing."
"She may have, but you didn't," Lucius said, tightening his hold on her. His voice was still filled with worry as Layla's vision started to go fuzzy. "Please, don't ever do that again. Pixie Tears, of all fucking things… It's dangerous stuff. That's not one of the fun potions, darling. Do you understand? You could've been really hurt."
"I'm sorry," Layla cried, wiping tears from her eyes with one hand as she clung to Lucius's arms with the other. The room was starting to grow dark, and then darker… Panic gripped her, and she cried harder. "Lucius, I'm scared. I can't see."
He squeezed her again, rocking her gently. "It's all right; you're ok. I've got you."
"It's so dark…"
She felt Lucius moving behind her and heard the click of the lamp on the nightstand. "Don't panic, darling; the lights are off now. It's ok. You're safe."
Layla squealed, startled when she heard Dobby pop back into the room. Lucius shushed her gently as Dobby said, "Master, here is the antidote you requested."
"Merlin's beard, thank fuck," Lucius swore, and Layla felt him lean forward and let go of her with one arm. Instantly, she lost her balance, teetering. A second later, Lucius held her steady again, wrapping her up so he could use both hands to unstopper the potion. Layla whimpered, her hands searching blindly in front of her for something else to hold her steady. She felt one of Lucius's hands gently slide down her arm, taking first one hand and then the other in his, then he whispered in her ear, "It's all right, Layla. I've got you. Let me help."
"Lucius…"
"Here, drink this," he said, gentle yet authoritative. She felt a small glass against her lips, and she let him guide her hands to take it from him. As soon as she had hold of the potion, she tipped it back and drank it so quickly, she nearly choked on it. When she was done, Lucius took it from her hands, and she heard the clack of him setting it on the nightstand. "Give it a minute, and you'll feel better," he reassured her, lovingly stroking her hair.
"I'm so sorry," Layla repeated, sniffing and leaning back into his touch.
"It's all right; it'll be over soon," Lucius said, resuming rocking her. The light slowly began to filter back into Layla's eyes, and the room came back into focus. Dobby had already disappeared from the suite. That was when she noticed that the tremble she felt wasn't from her; it was Lucius. She looked over her shoulder at him and was surprised to find him tearing up as well, looking absolutely terrified. He looked as though he hadn't been nearly as certain as he projected that she would be all right. His touch ghosted over her face as if she was so fragile she could fracture at the slightest pressure. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, making her frown.
"What are you sorry for?"
"Can you see again?" he asked, evading her question. When Layla nodded, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin," he whispered.
"Lucius?" Layla asked, trepidation sending another shiver down her spine.
"You're ok," he repeated, and this time, Layla realized that he wasn't reassuring her but himself. She turned, settling and laying her head on his shoulder, giving him a few minutes to collect himself. Finally, he said, "Pixie Tears is one of the most dangerous illegal potions that shows up at parties. Going blind like that… that's not one of the intended effects, but it's common in bad batches. Not everyone who goes blind gets their sight back." Layla tensed against him, staring up at him with wide eyes. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I am so incredibly sorry, dearest. When I lost track of you… I panicked. And then to finally find you and see you taking that random potion… I'm sorry. I should have been there to protect you."
Layla's face softened as she realized what weighed on his mind. "Lucius, it's not your fault," she said. A yawn stole her next words as drowsiness crept up on her. "I shouldn't have taken it. I was stupid. It's not your fault."
Lucius shifted their weight, sliding down the bed to be able to lay down and hold her solidly to his frame. His arms were a strong and dependable weight around her small frame, grounding her from the dreamlike state of the potion back to reality. She snuggled as close as she could to him, grateful for his rescue, yet again. He kissed the back of her neck, nuzzling into her. "I need you to be safe," he murmured. "I can't lose you, Layla."
A thought entered Layla's mind, something she had been forgetting to ask for a couple of months now. "Lucius, do you… I mean, someone said… Well, I…"
"Just ask, darling," he muttered, his tone lightening a little with amusement at her struggle.
"Do you deal in these illegal potions, Lucius?" she asked, her voice trembling a little.
Lucius sat up on one elbow, looking at her. "Who gave you that idea?"
Layla turned onto her back, staring back up at him. "Well, you did just have Willow's Thorne on you over spring break, and it may have been suggested back at Hogwarts that you were rather proficient at brewing that particular potion, and tonight you seemed so very familiar with all sorts of scary illegal potions and their effects, so I thought maybe…"
Lucius frowned, brushing her hair off her forehead. "I am quite good at brewing it, yes," he admitted. "But I rarely sell it. Or even brew it, these days. I made a batch for spring break specifically for that night with you. I thought you might enjoy it, and I did sell it to a few select individuals at that party." He snorted, laughing a little. "But you make it sound so incredibly scandalous, darling."
"But these potions…"
"It's nothing, dearest," he said, settling back down on the bed.
"But what if you get arrested?" Layla worried.
Lucius laughed heartily at that. "What, by the aurors? That won't happen. Aside from the fact that they're far too incompetent to catch someone distributing a few illegal potions, if by some miracle the aurors did come after me for something, mere potions would be the least of my crimes, wouldn't you say?"
Layla rolled over to face him, fear waking her back up some. "Wait," she said. "What happens if you do get caught? For being a Death Eater, I mean?"
Smirking, Lucius tapped her nose playfully. "Don't worry about it, dearest. It will never happen. The aurors are complete and utter idiots." Layla pouted, unsure if she ought to believe him on that. He chucked her chin and teased, "Darling, don't be silly. We will be just fine. Just go to sleep." Her pout didn't quite fade, but she was truly exhausted after such a long night, and as he kept petting her hair, she was lulled to an easy sleep.
August 4, 1978
Layla leaned against the bar, rolling her head around her shoulders, stretching the sore muscles in her neck. Regulus came up beside her, propping up on his elbows, his back to the bar, a glass of firewhiskey in his hand. She didn't ask how he'd gotten it, considering if he wasn't of age yet. "Evening, Mrs. Malfoy," he said with a teasing grin. Layla blushed slightly. "Lucius let you out of the house for the night?"
Layla bit her lip to hold back a laugh. "I had to get out. Only two weeks back from the honeymoon, and Lucius is off from minute one Merlin only knows where. I was bored stiff."
Regulus raised a questioning eyebrow. "Honeymoon barely over, and Lucius is already gone? Dare I ask how poorly the honeymoon went?"
Layla rolled her eyes and laughed a little as the bartender handed her a tall, skinny glass of pumpkin spice daiquiri. "It went quite well if you must know." Once the bartender walked away, Layla added quietly, "The Dark Lord pulled him away for some bloody mission, actually."
Regulus shrugged. "It happens. I'm sure he'll be back soon." Layla nodded, not entirely convinced. As the music began to pound again, and the lights grew dark and moody, Regulus asked, "So why the Banshee's Shriek Club? It doesn't really seem like your scene."
Layla laughed. "Not my scene? Look who's talking." Regulus grinned. "Actually, I've been surprised to find that I'm rather enjoying myself at places like this. Who would've guessed?"
"Ha, well then," Regulus chuckled. "Would you care to dance with me then?"
Layla glanced at him, surprised he would ask. Regulus held his hand out expectantly, and he looked so into the idea, she couldn't help but smile and take his hand. The room thrummed with life as he pulled her out onto the dance floor, taking her in his arms for the first time in what felt like ages. He spun her around, and she laughed with delight, then he pulled her back to him, their chests colliding as he smiled down at her. Heartstrings tugged in Layla's chest, as though invisible strings tied her to Regulus, her best friend in the world. For a moment, the world shrank down to nothing but the two of them and the music. Layla pulled two small bottles from her skirt pocket and offered one to Regulus. He took it, then looked up at her in surprise. "What?" Layla asked lightly as she drank hers.
"Willow's Thorne? Where the hell did you get…"
Layla giggled, the sour candy flavor already dissipating into the witch hazel aftertaste. "Apparently, Lucius still had some from in his room from spring break. So I borrowed it."
Regulus shook his head, laughing, before taking the potion for himself. When his head snapped back to her, he teased, "You're a terrible influence on a young man, Mrs. Malfoy."
Layla laughed loudly as he pulled her closer to dance again. The room began to spin and pulse with electrifying color; she could almost taste the magic in the air. Regulus twirled her again, and her skirt flared and swept around her legs as he pulled her back again, and she felt again like life was a fairytale, as she had as a child first learning about witchcraft, first laying eyes on Hogwarts from the moonlit surface of the Black Lake, first learning to cast charms and transfigure objects, first discovering that unicorns were real creatures… Regulus looked so happy, like the weight of the world no longer sat on his shoulders, like his life wasn't just about blood purity and Death Eaters and violence for once… Layla couldn't help herself; she reached up and kissed him, forcefully, and was surprised when he returned the kiss with equal passion, his hand on her lower back tugging her ever closer. A delicious shiver crawled across her skin, on her neck, her shoulders, her chest, her stomach…
"Malfoy… Layla, for fuck's sake!"
The obnoxiously loud male voice interrupted the two, and Layla pulled away regretfully, not ready for the moment to be over. But nothing could bring her down now, not while the Willow's Thorne still surged through her system. She smiled mischievously up at Regulus, who looked decidedly dazed, before she turned around to face the source of the voice. Her face fell when she found Rabastan LeStrange, disheveled, spattered with blood, and face crestfallen. "Rab? What's wrong?" she asked, but her tone was off, too euphoric, too giggly, too careless. Whatever was the matter with him, it couldn't touch her, not now. Not with the Willow's Thorne. She couldn't feel a damn thing other than damn good.
"It's Lucius. He's hurt."
Layla laughed a little. "What? What do you mean he's hurt?" But again, it came out wrong. Like she hadn't just been told her husband was hurt, but that the sky was green. It was all wrong.
Rabastan sighed, face reflecting what she imagined was frustration. "What the hell are you on, Danes? Lucius… you know, Malfoy? Your fucking husband? He's hurt; we've got to go, now."
Regulus gently pushed on her back, urging Layla toward Rabastan. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, repeating Rabastan, "Lucius is hurt, Layla. You should go to him." Layla looked back over her shoulder at Regulus; from the concern in his eyes, the potion hadn't hit him nearly as hard as it had hit her. Layla snorted a laugh as it occurred to her that she might be a total lightweight.
Rabastan grabbed her hand, yanking on her. "We have to go," he demanded, pushing her forcefully toward the club's lobby.
"Rab, but Regulus…"
"Will get fucking over it. Merlin's fucking beard, Layla." Rabastan scowled. "What the hell did you take?"
"Just more Willow's Thorne," Layla answered lightly, the situation still not emotionally phasing her. She knew it was bad that Lucius was hurt, but it wasn't real to her. Lucius could never be hurt; the man was practically a god or something, and gods don't get hurt.
"Merlin, Layla, where the fuck did you get… You know what, never mind; it doesn't matter right now," Rabastan snapped. He yanked her into his arms, pulling her along as he apparated out of the cloakroom of the club. As they landed just outside Malfoy Manor, Layla pushed him off her, over him killing her good time. He kept a harsh grip on her arm, keeping her from losing her balance with the push. "Could you sober up already? It's going to be rather hard to pretend you actually give a fuck about your husband if you can't."
Layla stuck her tongue out at the Death Eater. "Fuck you, Rab; I love him," she insisted with surprising force for someone who had just had her tongue down another man's throat.
"I'm sure Regulus will love to hear that," Rabastan sneered, tugging her across the manor lawn toward the front doors. "Whatever. I don't actually fucking care. I'm sure the sight of Malfoy will sober you quick enough."
Layla rolled her eyes, but the cold, wet air made her shiver as they approached the front door, her clothes and skin now damp from the misty rain that fell that night. Rabastan dragged Layla inside and up the stairs to the study, the same study where Layla had first fallen through time and met her husband. This time, it was Lucius who was bleeding all over the rug, not Layla; most of the left side of his body had been burned, blood oozing from some areas, blisters forming in others. Layla backed toward the door, knowing this was a horrifying sight, but unable to feel it properly. A hysterical laugh escaped her, so she quickly clamped her hands over her mouth. She didn't want to smile, to laugh anymore; she wanted to scream, to cry, to react like a normal person. Then she noticed the massive knife slash across the right side of his chest, and for a second, she wasn't looking at Lucius Malfoy; she was standing in front of her father as a Snatcher took a blade to his flesh…
Sinking to her knees, Layla finally felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes, and the scream she'd been searching inside for came at least. Rabastan stepped around her, ignoring her mixed reactions, snapping, "Where's the potion supply, Malfoy?" Layla said nothing, and Lucius groaned; it was a sound that would haunt Layla's nightmares. Rabastan looked back at her and growled, "Malfoy, focus! Where does your husband keep the damn potions?"
Tears slipped from her eyes as Layla found the coherency to answer, "His room, upstairs, third door on the right, the cabinet next to the bathroom…" Rabastan didn't say anything, rushing past her to where she had directed him. After a few minutes of uncontrolled crying, Layla crawled over to him, as the fear of losing her husband truly sunk in, grabbing onto his unmangled right arm. "Fuck, Lucius," she cursed, sobs still racking her body. "What the fuck happened?"
Lucius's breaths came in heavy, struggled heaves, and he finally looked up at her face, his blue eyes glassy. He squeezed her hand tightly, and Layla's shoulders shook as tears dripped onto his arm. "Fucking… lucky hit…" Lucius grimaced as Rabastan reentered the room with an armful of potions, his wand out. He crouched on the floor, the opposite side of Lucius from Layla, and dumped all the potions on the floor.
"Here," Rabastan said, tossing Layla a bottle of Burn-Healing Paste. "Rub that on the burns. I'll take care of the slash to his chest." Layla nodded, quickly taking the bottle and moving around to Lucius's burned side. She smeared the potion across his exposed, mutilated skin, as Rabastan began waving his wand slowly across the bleeding wound to Lucius's chest, the flesh stitching itself back together. Lucius hissed and flinched away from the cream, forcing Layla to grab hold of his injured arm and pin him to hold him still. After a long, terrifying, excruciating few minutes, Lucius's breathing started to return to normal, and his flesh began to repair itself under the potion. "Fucking Order got the drop on us," Rabastan swore, rage lighting his eyes as he finished with the gash on Lucius's chest.
"The Order doesn't cast curses on people like this," Layla argued, rubbing more cream onto the last burn on the top of Lucius's forearm.
Lucius let out a dark laugh at that. "Oh, yes, they do, dearest." Layla froze with the lid halfway back to the bottle, staring at her husband in disbelief as he slowly pushed himself to sit upright.
Unable to process the notion, Layla shook her head vigorously. Rabastan said tiredly, "Well, the Sectumsempra was a stray spell of ours, admittedly, but the Blasting Curse? That was all the Order. Fucking Sirius Black."
Layla's hands shook as she closed back up the Burn-Healing Paste. Lucius picked up a pair of potions from the floor, tossing them back in rapid succession. Rabastan sighed heavily, collapsing from a crouch to sit on the floor and lean back against the nearby armchair. Lucius met Layla's gaze and frowned at the tear stains on her cheeks, the horror haunting her eyes, and the paleness of her face. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, an empty potion bottle still in his hand, then leaned forward, setting the empty bottle on the floor, and kissed her. Layla's hands instantly flew to his face, clinging desperately to him, as overwhelm began to take over her. She nearly lost her husband tonight; she could have easily been a widow. Silently, she began to cry again as he kissed her again, at the thought that he could have died while she stupidly partied on dangerous potions and snogged someone else. She pulled away, her voice a mix of regret and accusation, "You could have fucking died. Why didn't you go to St. Mungo's?"
"What, so the aurors could arrest him?" Rabastan sneered. "As if they wouldn't realize that his injuries match up with the Death Eater they hit? Yeah, right." Layla glared at Rabastan, but he wasn't done. "It was just lucky that bloody house elf of yours knew where the hell you were so I could find you quickly; I left another Death Eater here to start healing him, but apparently, the bloody bastard decided to run instead."
"What?" Layla said, jaw dropping. The very idea of someone being such a fucking coward as to abandon Lucius in that state instead of helping him… It made Layla's wand arm itch to throw around a few curses. "I'll kill him," she snarled, the words coming faster than she could moderate them.
Lucius touched her shoulder gently, bringing her back to that time and place, to him. "I'm all right now," he reassured her with a small smile.
Rabastan snorted derisively, rising to his feet with a groan of exhaustion. "Well, I think I've had enough of this for one night. Seems the honeymoon phase is well over for you two. I'm going to get a drink."
Lucius's brow furrowed, and he turned to ask what Rabastan meant, but the LeStrange was already stepping into the green flames of the Floo System and gone. Instead, he turned to Layla. "What the hell did that mean?"
Layla pulled away from Lucius, away from his comfort, from his reassurances, as the ramifications of what she'd done sank in. "Holy fuck," she barely breathed, disbelieving her own mind. "Fuck, Lucius, fuck…"
"Layla?"
"Fuck, I'm so sorry. Fuck, fuck, fuck…"
"Layla, just tell me," Lucius pleaded, reaching for her, but she flinched away from him. She didn't deserve him; she wasn't good enough for him. She could never be good enough for him, could she? After all, they say that your intoxicated self is just your true unfiltered self, and if her inebriated self was so quick and willing to jump Regulus the moment Lucius was gone, what sort of wife, what sort of woman, was she? Maybe the other students at Hogwarts had been right; maybe she was nothing more than a willing Death Eater whore, a free-for-all… "Layla, please," he begged, his hand falling to the floor between them.
Her breathing ragged, she cried, "Fuck, Lucius, I'm so fucking sorry. It's so fucking stupid, and if I'd really thought about it, I never would've…"
"What happened?"
"You'd been gone so long," Layla gushed, the words coming fast now. "I just, I got so bored and lonely, cooped up in the house with nothing to do, so… So I stole a couple of vials of Willow's Thorne from your stash, and I went up to the Banshee's Shriek Club, up in wizarding Edinburgh? I wasn't even sure I would take them, but then I was drinking, and Regulus showed up, and we were dancing, and we took them, and, and, and… I kissed him. I kissed him a lot. But I just… Fuck, Lucius, I'm so fucking sorry, I never meant for it to happen, and…"
"Layla, just stop." When he interrupted, Layla had expected, righteous anger, jealousy, fury, outrage… She didn't expect his sad smile, or for him to take both of her hands in his, reassuring her. "I knew it was still a possibility. It's all right."
Layla shook her head, struggling to pull her hands from his, scooting back from him. "No, it's not," she insisted, unable to stop protesting her guilt. "I don't want that to be who I am. I'm not a Death Eater whore; I'm not."
"I know that."
"But what I did… How can you…"
"Come here." Hesitating, Layla dared to look at his face again, but the hurt smile was still there, and his arms were open, begging her to let him hold her. She crawled back over to him, letting him wrap her up tightly in his embrace. "I know you're not a whore, dearest," he murmured, burying his face in her neck as she started to hiccup from sobbing. "I know your feelings for him are strong, but I also trust you. This isn't something you would have done if you were sober, is it?"
"No," Layla croaked, her voice sticking in her mucusy throat as her tears soaked what was left of his shirt.
"Do you plan to do it again?"
Layla shook her head as hard as she could. "No, never."
"Do you still want to be with me?"
The question caught Layla off guard, unexpected. The subject of whether or not Layla truly wanted to be Lucius's wife at all had not been discussed since the night of the New Year's Eve party and the engagement announcement. She didn't have to think about it this time; she knew the answer the moment he asked the question. "Yes, more than anything," she swore, pulling back to look at his face.
Hurt shone in his eyes, but he nodded anyway, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. "Then I don't care what Regulus Black fucking does. You'll always be mine as long as you want to be."
"But… but I cheated on you," Layla whispered, fear filling her for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. "You deserve better."
Lucius's mouth set in a firm line at that. He took her face in both of his hands and stared hard at her, his gaze unwavering. "There is no one better for me than you, Layla Malfoy. You are my wife, and I will not settle for anyone else." Layla's face burned under the intensity of his words, and she squirmed in his grasp. He leaned in and kissed her, and the passion of the moment far surpassed the potion-induced euphoria she'd so recently experienced with Regulus. When they broke apart for air, he murmured in a husky voice, "Want to come to bed with me, darling?"
Layla smiled a little and bit her lip. "Fuck yes, husband. Please, just own me for the night."
Lucius's smile turned wicked. "Oh, dearest, I'll own you for eternity."