I'm alive, but I'm dead; hear my voice up in your head, watch it fill you full of dread till you go pow-pow… Time to roll the dice. You know I'm the type, type to risk my life not afraid to die. Type to make you cry; type to put a price all up on your head, do just what I said. I'm a straight-up villain, yeah, no feeling. – K/DA, VILLAIN

August 5, 1978

Sleepily seeking his body heat, Layla curled her naked body closer against Lucius, a soft noise of satisfaction rumbling in her chest. Lucius chuckled, planting a kiss on the top of her head, with a soft, "Good morning, dearest."

"No morning," Layla mumbled, snuggling further under the blankets. "Just sleep."

She felt his chest vibrate with laughter. "Now, darling, we can't do that," he teased. "There are things we have to do today that, unfortunately, cannot be postponed."

"Tell them to go die," she complained as Lucius pulled the covers down from around her face.

"Now, dearest, you know I can't do that," he said gently.

Layla propped her chin on his bare chest, looking up at him with curiosity. "Lucius, what do you do for a living?" she asked, the question finally occurring to her at a time when she could actually ask him.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her, sitting up a little against the headboard. "The only career I have is being a Death Eater if that's what you're asking me."

Layla frowned, tilting her head a little. "But then how are you so wealthy?"

"We, darling," he teased, running a hand through her long dark hair. "We are fabulously wealthy thanks to my highly intelligent and resourceful ancestors." Layla made a face, and he laughed. "It's true. The Malfoy family came to Britain with William the Conquerer. We've been landowners ever since. We own a winery, but Father deals with that business. For the most part, I consider myself a philanthropist."

"And a Death Eater," Layla reminded him, her tone souring.

Lucius tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing, sending a small shiver down Layla's spine. "Yes, dearest. And very proudly so. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper."

As Lucius slipped from underneath her and out of the bed, Layla sat up, wrapping herself in the bedsheet for warmth. "What does that mean?"

Lucius nodded at a painting of what appeared to be a family crest on the wall. Dragons and serpents intertwined in the black, green, and silver oils, and the phrase Lucius had spoken was written prominently on a silver banner. "It's the family motto, darling. Purity will always conquer."

For a moment, Layla was too stunned to respond as Lucius continued to get dressed for the day. Then she asked quietly, "As you conquered me, you mean?"

Lucius looked over his shoulder at her as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his black dress shirt, a delighted smirk on his lips. "Of course." He paused getting ready and turned back to her, leaning down and kissing her forehead. "You, my dearest, are the greatest treasure I have ever stolen." He turned away from her again, buttoning his shirt; Layla sat, unmoving but for a small tremor of trepidation. Conquered. Treasure. Stolen. The words didn't sit well. "What do you dream of, darling?"

Pulled back to the moment, Layla shook her head. "What do you mean?"

Giving her a wry smile, Lucius said, "I know that being my wife can't possibly have been your life's greatest dream come true. You've made that clear. So, what did you dream of becoming? Did you not have ideas and plans for who or what you wanted to be when you left school, before the war?"

Layla bit her lip, uncomfortable with how difficult it was to remember what she'd wanted before the return of the Dark Lord her fourth year, before Dumbledore's Army her fifth year, before the Ministry of Magic fell after her sixth year. "Um, well. Truthfully, the Order of the Phoenix was my only plan for a long time…" She glanced at Lucius anxiously, but he said nothing and didn't show any reaction as he focused on his reflection in the mirror, tying his black and green striped necktie around his shirt collar. "But before that, I was thinking about going into Care of Magical Creatures. You know, as a healer for Magical Creatures and stuff. But it seems so silly now, with a war raging like this."

Lucius cut his eyes over to her as he folded his collar down over his tie. "Nonsense. I think that sounds lovely, darling." Layla's jaw slackened, having fully expected him to put her down for having such simple aspirations. He shrugged at her look of surprise. "It's a valid and needed career. It would have suited you well if your circumstances had been different." After a moment's thought, he added, "Perhaps we can donate some financial assistance to a Magical Creature reserve; it would give you a reason to visit and become involved with such a charity. Give you something more to do than simply sit around the manor house when I'm away on the Dark Lord's business."

Layla's eyes lit up at the idea. "Do you really think I could…"

"It wouldn't be the same as what you wanted," he cautioned, picking up his wand from the dresser top, the elm wood gleaming as the light hit it just right. "You would be more than a mere employee, but a contributor nonetheless."

"I'll take that," Layla said softly, a little afraid that if she were too loud, too enthusiastic, she would wake up and find the conversation had all been a dream.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "I'll see about making the arrangements, then," he said before kissing her and leaving the room in favor of breakfast in the dining room.

August 9, 1978

Diagon Alley bustled, thrumming with magical life as much as it ever did, as Layla slipped through the crowds, making an effort not to draw attention to herself. Mission failed.

"Layla?"

Sighing, she stopped in her tracks, allowing Regulus to approach her on the sidewalk. "Hi, Regulus," she said politely, shifting her weight over and over.

"Hey," he said, his voice full of apparent relief. "I hadn't heard from you since the other night. Is Malfoy ok?"

Layla nodded, careful to keep a respectable amount of space between them. "Yes, he's quite well. Rab and I were able to save him."

"Good, that's good," Regulus said, a little too quickly for Layla to entirely believe he meant it. An awkward beat passed, then he said, "Look, I'm sorry about the other night. It was foolish. And in public like that? I'm sorry. I should have done something to stop it."

Layla's face burned cherry red, and she dropped her eyes to her combat boots. "It's fine; it's my fault too."

They were silent for a moment before Regulus dared to ask, "What does it mean? For us, I mean."

Layla shook her head, refusing to look him in the eye. "It means nothing, Regulus. We can't. I won't. We're friends. Only friends."

Regulus nodded, hope fading to resignation. "Right. Just friends."

Layla finally raised her gaze to his. "I mean it, Regulus. We were wasted and stupid. It won't happen again."

Regulus searched her face, and his hand twitched at his side, as though he longed to use it to snatch her away, to kiss her again, to prove her wrong. Instead, he said quietly, "Never again. Right."

"For the people we love, Regulus," she said gently, reminding him of his words to her mere months before.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair rather than hers. "For the people we love," he said, his dark eyes fierce with heavy meaning that Layla would rather not think about too intently. "I'll see you another time, then; you seem busy," he said, giving her the out she was searching for.

"Right, I'll see you later," Layla repeated, slipping away from him and disappearing into the teeming street. She followed the flow of the crowd, away from Regulus and away from Diagon Alley, until she reached her true destination, Knockturn Alley. The lack of sunlight contributed to the dark and dank mood of the street as Layla strode carefully along its cobblestones, the high heels of her shoes softly clicking on the stone. She tried to come across as fearless and proud, the way Draco's mother had always done when Layla spotted the two in Diagon Alley school shopping, but the alley's reputation for the dark arts got to her and made her hands tremble. She shoved her hands in her pockets to hide the shaking as she stepped into Borgin and Burkes with a silent prayer to whatever may be listening that she not fuck this up.

"Ah, can I help you, Miss?" The shopowner, Borgin, called from behind a counter arrayed with a register and a variety of what appeared to be real human bones.

Layla couldn't help but jump a little at the sound of his voice. This was a bad idea. She glanced at the wall, where a collection of seemingly ancient masks stared back at her. She wondered for a moment if this was where the Dark Lord had gotten the idea to mask his own followers. "Mrs. Malfoy, actually," she corrected, stepping up to the counter. "I believe you might be familiar with my husband?"

Borgin's smile grew wider. "Ah yes, young Lucius Malfoy, a particular favorite customer. What can I do for you today, Mrs. Malfoy?"

The title still struck Layla as odd, unused to it as she was. "Well, I was wondering if you might have any particularly interesting antiquities of late," she answered, doing the best imitation of a high society lady she could manage, turning and glancing around the shop with a critical eye.

"I always have interesting artifacts, some very ancient, some very powerful, and some that are both," Borgin said proudly, resuming polishing one of the bones on the counter. "Do you have any particular sort of item in mind?"

Layla's jaw tightened as she struggled to determine the right way to phrase her question without giving herself away. "Perhaps… something that could protect the owner? In the event of injury or death, that is."

Borgin tilted his head, intrigued. "Now, why would a pretty young thing like you be looking for an object like that?"

Turning back to the shopkeep, Layla shrugged, doing her best to maintain an air of nonchalance. "These are dangerous times, Mr. Borgin. There's a war on, you know. I simply want to explore our options."

A smile and a nod. "Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. Well, unfortunately, it's been quite some time since an item like that passed through here, but shall I send you an owl if I come across one?"

Layla swallowed and nodded. "Yes, please. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. Please, do come again."

Layla turned and as quickly as was reasonable walked out of the store. As the door closed behind her, she shivered, feeling a little ridiculous for even thinking that the Dark Lord may have either bought or sold a horcrux item there, much less that the owner would have told her anything about it if he had. She disapparated back to Malfoy Manor, giving up her horcrux research for the day.

September 11, 1978

A rather uneventful month had flown by, and it felt strange to Layla to be into the month of September without returning to Hogwarts. Part of her missed the school, and part of her was grateful to not have to spend another year arguing house rivalries and politics with more people trying to tell her how to live her life. Layla spent her time roaming the halls and grounds of the manor, going shopping as often as she pleased (which admittedly, wasn't particularly often), and getting as drunk or high as she wished at wizarding bars and parties, which were surprisingly more frequent than she'd expected. But at least alcohol and potions gave her something to do. Anything was better than sitting at home, terrified that Lucius may not come home this time, over and over…

Dumbledore hadn't made any contact since Layla had graduated from Hogwarts, and it was a small relief to be left alone at last. Though it occurred to her that no word from Dumbledore meant that he was having as little luck in searching for these horcruxes as Layla was, and the thought that they may never actually find the bloody things was terrifying.

That afternoon, Layla was walking the halls of Malfoy Manor once again, intent on finding lunch in the dining room, as was her habit. Lucius had disappeared before she had woken that morning, which she was starting to realize would not be an unusual event in her life, so she had spent the day in their bed, reading through Secrets of the Darkest Art for a second time, hoping that something would at last jump out at her and give her some sort of clue to what the Dark Lord may have done… or used… or where he had hidden them… Naturally, no such clues arose. Her heels made the softest of clicks on the marble floor, and her skirt swished in a satisfying way around her legs… A small hand grabbed her skirt, tugging on her, and she turned, surprised to find a sweaty Dobby behind her, shaking his head, just as she approached the dining hall. "Dobby? Is something the matter?"

Dobby shook his head, biting his lip hard, as though he was fighting himself on whether or not to speak to her. "Mistress doesn't want to go in there," he finally whispered, still tugging on her skirt, trying to lead her away from the room. "Mistress wants to take lunch in the kitchen today. Trust Dobby!"

Layla frowned and started to ask what the house elf meant, but Lucius's voice cut her off. "Dearest, there you are." She looked up at Lucius, horrified when she saw that he was flanked by a masked Death Eater. She turned back to Dobby, but the house elf was gone, as though he had never been there. Lucius walked up to her and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, his arm winding around her waist securely. "Please, join us," he said, his tone leaving no room for debate. Layla nodded, casting a nervous glance at the masked figure over his shoulder, unsure who the man was.

Layla followed the two men into the dining hall, where she was shocked to find a small collection of Death Eaters gathered around the massive dining table, some masked, some not. Bellatrix was easy enough to spot, even if she'd worn a mask, but Layla was surprised to see Narcissa Black sitting in a chair beside her sister, glaring at Layla in the doorway. "Ah, our lovely hostess." The voice turned Layla's blood in her veins to ice, and her eyes found none other than Lord Voldemort sitting at the head of the table. Two seats directly to his right remained empty, and Lucius guided her to sit to his right, taking the seat closest to the Dark Lord for himself. Voldemort reached out and took Layla's hand, kissing it before releasing her and saying, "Please, thank you for having us in your beautiful home, Madame Malfoy. It is a pleasure to have lunch with you today."

The gears in Layla's brain had stopped turning, and for a moment, she could nothing but stare blankly at the man speaking to her. Tall, dark, handsome, the hint of bloody red to his irises… Lucius gently took her hand and squeezed, and Layla's heart began to beat again. "It's an honor to have you here, my Lord," she responded quickly, dropping her eyes as quickly as she could to the plate of chicken salad in front of her.

Layla felt Lucius squeeze her hand again as Voldemort laughed lightly, his manner unexpectedly charming. "Lucius, my friend, let me congratulate you on your wedding properly. I must apologize for being unable to attend the ceremony myself, but alas, with so many Ministry officials attending, it was hardly prudent for me to make such a public appearance to do so."

Lucius nodded, his tone deferent. "Of course, my Lord."

"Your young wife is such a beautiful little thing. I do look forward to seeing how many little wizards she can produce for you," Voldemort said off-handedly before turning to the others at the table. Layla fought hard to keep the absolute shock and outrage at the Dark Lord's sheer misogyny off her face, refusing to make eye contact with anyone at the table. "Right, so where are we? Ah, yes, recruitment. I do believe we've made some headway and had some setbacks there, yes?"

After what felt like an eternity in hell, the Death Eater meeting came to an end, and Layla was finally released from her seat. Voldemort rose from the table first; Layla waited impatiently as the Death Eaters began to stand and clear the room as well, following after their master, hoping that would be her chance to escape to a more private room, one with space to breathe again. Unfortunately, nothing she heard even seemed to hint at the existence of any horcruxes, so as far as Layla was concerned the entire meeting had been a waste of her time. Well, she had learned one thing, and it was something she entirely hadn't expected. Bellatrix wasn't the Dark Lord's second-in-command; Lucius was. She glanced nervously at her new husband as he stood and held out his hand to help her from her chair. Taking his hand, she couldn't help but struggle to reconcile the idea that he was that degree of dangerous with the knowledge that he had only ever been sweet and gentle to her. Could he really be worse, more powerful, more vicious, more deadly, than even Bellatrix LeStrange?

Layla slipped away from the table, guided by Lucius's delicate pressure on her hand, meeting his intense blue eyes as he looked down at her. He was a man of fierce passion, in all things and not just romance, apparently; yes, for a moment, she absolutely believed that he could be so deadly and important to the Dark Lord's efforts, that Lucius could be the Dark Lord's right-hand man. Fuck. All hope in her heart that she could turn Lucius against Lord Voldemort floundered and died.

"Lucius."

He turned to the soft voice, and Layla did, too; Narcissa Black looked haughtily at the pair. Layla felt a small pang of regret, having unintentionally ruined her engagement to Lucius Malfoy; then again, if she hadn't, she couldn't have married him herself. Maybe she didn't regret it so much after all. "Narcissa," Lucius returned politely, his own expression just as holier-than-thou. Layla could see how they would have made a good pair if she hadn't interfered.

Narcissa cleared her throat lightly. Layla noticed the other woman fiddled with a wrapped box in her hands. "Congratulations on your marriage," Narcissa said, looking down her nose at Layla. She offered the box. "The jeweler was a little late getting this to me, so my apologies for the tardiness of this wedding gift."

Layla hesitated, but when encouraged by Lucius, took it and unwrapped the box, opening it to reveal a stunning opal necklace inside. "Wow," she said softly. "It's beautiful, Narcissa. Thank you."

Narcissa merely nodded and quickly scurried away, leaving the two Malfoys nearly alone in the dining room. Layla started to touch the necklace, but Lucius batted her fingers away from the jewels. She made a small whining noise and started to argue, but he leaned down and whispered hurriedly in her ear, "Just leave it on the table and don't touch it. If it's what I think it is, then the fucking thing's cursed." Layla very quickly dropped the box on the table, blanching at the thought.

Timidly, Layla followed behind Lucius out of the dining room, forcing herself to be smaller, quieter, as her husband accompanied the Dark Lord and his followers out of their home. When the house finally was empty of outsiders, she sank back against the wall, tears pricking at her eyes as she struggled to take deep, steadying breaths. As Lucius returned from the front of the house to the main hallway, his eyes narrowed, confused. "What on earth are you doing, dearest?"

Wiping at her eyes, unwilling to break down in front of him at that moment, Layla stood up straighter and mumbled, "Nothing."

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh, don't start lying to me now, darling. We were just starting to get on good terms with each other."

Layla huffed, pushing her hair back from her face. Why couldn't he just let it go when she obviously didn't want to talk about it? "Are these Death Eater meetings regular occurrences here?" she asked.

"A few times, I suppose. Why?"

"Because that was bloody awful," Layla complained. "No offense, Lucius, but it's not exactly easy to sit for several hours listening to a bunch of surly, vapid purebloods dissecting all the many ways that Muggleborns like me are the scum of the earth and should be eliminated."

Lucius frowned, walking across the marble tile floor to her. He attempted to take her hand in his, but Layla pulled away from him, bitterness etched on her face. "What would you have me do?" Lucius asked, his tone hardening. "It is one of the particular appeals of our little social club for most of its members." Layla let out a short, sardonic laugh of disbelief. "You do realize that for as long as we're married, we have to be of one mind on this subject, correct? My values are your values now."

Layla scoffed, "You don't get to tell me how to think or feel, Lucius Malfoy."

"The hell I don't," he snapped back. "On this, I most certainly do. Because if you say or do anything that would displease the Dark Lord, it will reflect poorly on me, and we'll likely as not both be punished as a result. I doubt you want that."

"That fucking Dark Lord," she sneered, turning her back on Lucius to ascend the staircase to the bedrooms. "Oh, I just can't wait to see how many pretty little pureblood babies she makes you." Layla made a mocking vomiting sound effect to punctuate exactly how that meeting had made her feel. "As if that's all I'm fucking good for is a goddamn reproduction service."

"You've made perfectly clear, darling, that you would prefer not to be useful to the cause in any other tangible ways," Lucius reminded her as he followed her quickly up the stairs. "If this is your way of saying that you've changed your mind and are ready to accept the Dark Mark, I can always call the Dark Lord back here with a simple –"

Lucius had begun the process of rolling up his sleeve to taunt her with his Dark Mark tattoo but stopped short when Layla whipped around, her wand pointed in his face. "Don't you fucking dare," Layla growled, her teeth bared at him.

Lucius slowly let go of his shirt sleeve, surrendering with his hands cautiously raised in the air. "Dearest, let's just calm down, shall we?" Layla's eyes narrowed further; his words reminded her too much of the past, of the Department of Mysteries, of Draco Malfoy's father, of… of a Death Eater. And that was when it hit her. She fell in love with him so easily because, for the brief spans of school breaks and a few weeks on a honeymoon, it was so incredibly simple to drop the politics and the violence and just be a man romancing a naive young woman, to hide the monster, the terrorist, and tempt her into loving a man who wasn't real. And she was a fool for falling right into his trap. The greatest treasure I have ever stolen. That was all she was to him, she suspected; a prize to be won and possessed. Property. "Darling." Lucius's voice called her back to him, and her eyes flicked from her wand to his face. He stepped into her, up a stair, and easily pushed her wand across her body, past his shoulder, the right hand slipping around her waist, the left hand taking hold of her wand and wresting it far too easily from her possession. Lucius leaned in, brushing a soft kiss on her cheek and whispering to her, "I know this is difficult for you. Please, just let me take care of you. Let me protect you the best way I know how."

His words were so emotional, so caring, so reassuring… She let herself be taken in again, throwing her arms around his neck and bursting into tears. The day had been too long, the people and activities had been too much, and Layla was at her limit. She couldn't handle this Death Eater system anymore today, and she allowed herself to break, to let Lucius pick up her pieces, even if the glue he used to reassemble her was likely made of lies and trickery. She didn't care anymore if it was all untrue. She just wanted to feel safe, and here, in his embrace, she did feel safe to come undone and be put back together again. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, letting her tears soak his shirt.

"Shh, it's all right, now," Lucius reassured her, his hand around her waist stroking up and down her back tenderly. "I know it's so incredibly difficult for you. I promise this will become easier with time. You just have to trust me and follow my lead. Can you do that for me?" Layla nodded into his shoulder, and she felt him slipping her wand back into her dress pocket. "Good girl."

September 20, 1978

Layla stepped out of Slug and Jiggers Apothecary into Diagon Alley, the cozy wizarding street less busy now that school had resumed properly. She shifted her grip on the small bag of potion ingredients in her hand and adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder, nearly ready to disapparate and return home. She glanced up as a flash of color caught her eye and was surprised to find Remus Lupin, wrapped in his Gryffindor scarf, waving at her as he crossed the street. "Good morning, Layla," he said warmly as he stopped in front of her.

Layla glanced around, anxious that she may be seen by the wrong person. A Death Eater's wife socializing with a werewolf and an Order member? She'd already learned the hard way with Dorcas Meadowes in Hogsmeade that it was unwise to be too friendly with the enemy. Layla smiled politely, doing her best to maintain a little distance. "Lupin, good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Layla," Remus said with a bright smile. Her heart sank as she realized that he still regarded them as friends and how badly she wanted to maintain that friendship, but to do so could only get people hurt. "We heard you got married after graduation. Congratulations."

Layla bit back a laugh. "Come on, Lupin, we both know you can't stand him," she teased, lightening up a little, for just a moment, because damn it, she deserved a moment of normalcy, of genuine companionship and happiness.

Remus laughed, and the sound was so pure it made Layla's heart melt a little. He shrugged and said, "Absolutely loathe him, yeah, but cut me slack, I'm trying." Layla laughed a little, so he continued, "Do you want to get some coffee at the Leaky Cauldron? You look like you could use one."

Quickly, Layla shook her head; a moment was one thing, but coffee was another. Lucius couldn't overlook something like that. "I'm sorry; I can't. I actually have to get going."

"So soon?"

Layla nodded, glancing away from him and up and down the alley again. There was still no one she recognized around, but that didn't mean there wasn't a Death Eater watching her to report it all back to their leader. "Yeah, you know Lucius has some meet and greet or tea or something we have to go to for one of his charity works," she said nervously. It was true, but she hated to brush Remus off like this. But it was the best she could do without saying horrible things that would make her hate herself.

Remus nodded with understanding. "Sure, no problem. Maybe next time. I'm working over at the second-hand bookshop up the alley if you're ever looking for me."

Layla's smile fell a little as she picked up the hint at last. None of this was just about maintaining their friendship for Remus. Of course, Remus was a good person and a genuine friend, but more than that, he was trying to give her an out. A place to go if she decided she was sick of the Death Eaters and her husband and wanted to run away and join the Order after all. As if she could ever escape the Death Eaters or Lucius alive. "Thanks, I'll remember that," she said quietly. "It's been good seeing you, Lupin; I hope you have a nice day."

"Thanks, you too."

The words were barely out of Remus's mouth before Layla turned on the spot and disapparated. She hated to push Remus away, she really did, but if other Death Eaters or the Dark Lord heard that they were friends… It would be bad for both of them. And now that she knew just exactly how high in the Death Eaters' ranks Lucius actually was, she could only begin to imagine what horrors could be inflicted on her for breaking ranks.

October 1, 1978

Layla was fucking exhausted. More and more, the Dark Lord requested she accompany Lucius to meetings, the pureblood social circus never ended, and don't even get her started on the charity work Lucius had arranged for her, which was surprisingly time-consuming. More and more frequently, she helped herself quietly to Lucius's potion supply, with particular favoritism to Willow's Thorne. She couldn't help but be drawn to the way the mixture made everything so much easier; Death Eater meetings were much more lively and simple experiences when she couldn't feel the horror of what was really happening around her. Plus, Lucius didn't seem to notice or care that she was high so frequently or raiding the potions cabinet with more regularity; it seemed to be a win all around for both of them.

Muggleborn witches and wizards as well as Muggles were starting to die at an alarming rate; the Muggle world seemed to blame a variety of incidents on the IRA, but only sometimes was that true. The Ministry of Magic was going bloody mad trying to contain the war to the wizarding world, but Layla knew it was a waste of time and resources. The Minister continued to hire more aurors and throw more dementors at the problem; it almost made Layla want to laugh. The longer she was part of Lucius Malfoy's world, the more she realized that what he and Regulus so often told her was true: the Death Eaters might not own the Ministry of Magic yet, but they were destroying it from the inside out. This war wasn't about taking over the system like the one Layla had fought before; this war was about dismantling the establishment and destroying the system. It was more gruesome, more violent, more deadly. She wasn't sure which war style scared her more, truthfully.

As for the horcrux hunt… it had practically come to a screeching halt. There was not a single sign or whisper of the dark objects or their whereabouts, only blood and terror and death, so Layla sat back and allowed the time to pass. After all, it wasn't as though Dumbledore had demanded she provide any other information about the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters, and she wasn't particularly inclined to risk her new position by offering it up freely. Dumbledore had said to essentially sit tight until a horcrux presented itself, and she intended to do exactly that. Actively chasing the bloody things would only get her into trouble.

With every day that passed, Layla grew numb to the constant fear and anxiety. She had been surprised with the way her daily interactions out in the world shifted; shopkeepers treated her with greater respect and eagerness to please since she had become Mrs. Malfoy, and frankly, she liked it. It was slowly becoming easier to forget that she herself was a Muggleborn, to agree with whatever Lucius told her to say and do, to become someone else. Did that really make her evil, to do what was easy, to do what was safe for her? Layla was starting to doubt that.

Despite her low expectations, Lucius treated Layla like she was literally a queen. Jewelry, books, clothes, magic; if it was beautiful or a luxury, he gave it to her, without her even so much as saying please. She had to admit, his habit of extravagant gift-giving only made her love him more. While she had grown up in a decidedly middle-class Muggle home and had never known desperate poverty, there was something thrilling about existing in such a dramatic level of absurd wealth. There were absolutely still moments where she craved the productivity of having a job and providing for herself, but they were always quickly overshadowed by Lucius's generosity with his family fortune, which seemed endless.

Tonight, as she mixed a sweet dose of Willow's Thorne with a Strawberry Daiquiri inside of the Banshee's Shriek Club, she couldn't help but smirk at the thought of just how fucking privileged her new life really was. Sure, she vehemently hated nearly everyone she associated with, but the benefits really seemed to make up for that, and she no longer cared what price she paid to have these advantages. It didn't matter if she wasn't ok, or that she hated herself and who she'd become; she was determined to have a fucking good time, anyway.

"Well, now, kitten, that doesn't look like a particularly legal cocktail," a seductive voice drawled in her ear, and Layla rolled her eyes in response. She glanced beside her to find Sirius Black leaning against the bar beside her, having just watched her chase the Willow's Thorne with the rum cocktail. "Where did you get a little drink like that, Mrs. Malfoy? Doesn't seem like the sort of thing proper pureblood wives dabble in, does it, Moony?"

Just past Sirius's shoulder, Layla could just make out Remus Lupin's face in the blood-red lighting of the club. His eyes took on a rather wolf-like reflective sheen in the darkness, and she absently wondered if the full moon was approaching. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Black." She offered her daiquiri to him. "Do you want some? Really washes down that Essence of Insanity you've been taking quite deliciously."

Sirius's mouth quirked to one side in a wry smile. "I'll pass, love. You know, as an Auror, I really ought to bring you in for that stuff. Willow's Thorne, right? Or was it Fairy Dust? Hard to distinguish silver from pink in places like this."

Layla laughed, the potion already kicking in and making her feel lighter than air. "Oh, you're an Auror now? Good for you, Sirius; that's truly adorable."

Remus's frown deepened as he watched the two of them. Sirius leaned in closer to Layla, and Layla smiled carelessly up at him. "That's right, Layla. I'm an Auror now. And I'm quite certain that the potion you just took was illegal. Want to tell me where you got it? I might let you get away with taking it if you do."

Giggling, Layla noticed a cute girl come up and start flirting with Remus behind Sirius. "Oh, don't be silly, Sirius," she teased. "You don't want to ruin Remus's good time." She nodded at Remus and the girl begging him to dance with her, and Sirius glanced back at them over his shoulder. He chuckled and turned back to Layla. "Wouldn't you rather find some pretty little mudblood witch to dance with, Sirius?" Layla asked, sweeter than pie, twisting and twirling her green silk skirt around her knees as she sipped on her drink.

"I already did," Sirius said, giving Layla a pointed look that went completely over her head. A delicious shiver chased the frozen drink down her spine as Sirius asked, "Where's the husband, Layla? Does Lucius know what you're up to?"

The grin on Layla's face widened. "Oh, don't we just love Lucius?" Putting a hand to the massive onyx gems on her neck, she preened, "He gave me these this morning. Aren't they pretty?"

"Where is he, kitten?" Sirius repeated as Layla set her half-empty drink glass down on the bar. Remus had finally managed to disengage himself from the other girl, who walked away looking rather put out.

Layla turned her back to the bar and let her shoulder blades rest against it, her eyes scanning the crowd. Her eyes, familiar with the dark space, searched the faces of the patrons in the booths and the dance floor. She recognized several Death Eater faces in the dancing throng, but the longer she looked, the more faces she began to recognize. James and Lily Potter, now married, sitting together in a corner booth. Fabian and Gideon Prewett lingered on the edge of the dance floor on opposite sides of the room from each other. Peter Pettigrew loitered awkwardly by the restroom doors, where Layla knew Lucius was making some sort of exchange for the Dark Lord inside. She sighed blissfully and dropped her head to one shoulder, looking back at Sirius with a small giggle. "You're not here for the party, or me and my perfectly permissible potion for that matter," Layla surmised cheerfully. "You're here with the Order, looking for something."

Barking a laugh, Sirius said, "Ravenclaw really lost out handing you over to Slytherin, didn't they? You absolutely darling little smart ass." Layla laughed, and Sirius added, "Come on, Layla. Everyone knows this place is a pureblood supremacist hangout. You don't have to get caught in the middle of this. We've heard about Lucius meeting the Dark Lord here tonight. Tell us where he is, and I can let you escape with the rabble instead of arresting you, too, for conspiracy."

The threat barely phased Layla, and she only laughed harder, tears welling in her eyes. "Oh, Sirius, darling," she said in her most bewitching voice. "It's like we said. You're not here for me, anyway." With that, she pushed off the bar and slipped away before he could successfully grab onto her shoulder, his attempt to snatch her back missing by mere centimeters. She slinked through the dancing crowd, following the rhythm of the music, until she managed to maneuver herself between Rabastan LeStrange and Severus Snape. Rabastan was particularly surprised, but his hands dropped to her hips, pressing himself closer to her and pushing her back against Snape. She dropped her hands around his neck, her wand secure in one hand, rocking against him as she asked, "How much longer does Lucius need for whatever he's doing?"

Rabastan raised an eyebrow at her; it was unlike her to ask about details of Death Eater business, just enough to raise red flags for him. He leaned in and asked, just loud enough that only she and Snape could hear, "He could be done any moment. Why do you need to know?"

Layla dropped her head back on Snape's shoulder, somewhere between putting on a show for the Order of the Phoenix and genuinely having fun. "Because, Rab, the Order is here, and they're hunting him."

Rabastan's dark eyes flashed, casting glances about the room, then as he noticed known Order members around the club, he swore, "Fuck. Good catch, darling."

"Do we fight or run?" Snape murmured to Rabastan over Layla's shoulder, making a show of running his hands along her arms in case the Order's eyes had managed to follow her from the bar to their dance.

Pulling Layla's head back up with one hand, Rabastan studied the crowd behind Snape. "Run," he decided. "There's not enough of us to fight back and win."

Layla suggested, "Shouldn't we create a distraction? We've got to give Lucius a warning to get out somehow."

Rabastan pressed his lips to Layla's cheek. To anyone else, it would look like an inappropriate level of affection; to them, it was a code. "It's your turn, darling," Rabastan muttered against her skin. "Light them up."

Sober, Layla would have absolutely hesitated. She would have argued, made excuses, cowered, and refused to take any risky actions. Ordinarily, she would never risk innocent bystanders being hurt, or generally any sort of crime. But tonight she was high, she felt good, and being caught or injured in the process seemed impossible. Tonight, they were the magic, they were the pure ones, and nothing, nothing, could touch them. Layla twirled her wand in her fingers behind Rabastan's head, her mind racing through the emergency protocol that Lucius had given her before their night out. Have fun; if things go south, engineer chaos, then run. Do not wait for him; do not try to reach him. Just run.

"Incendio," Layla muttered, pointing her wand out from Rabastan's back. Several meters away, fire sprung to life from the hardwood bar floor, catching in a circle around the dance floor. As people began to notice the orange flames and scream, Layla flicked her wand up at the ceiling. "Morsmordre."

The smokey image of the Dark Mark took shape on the high ceiling, looking like shadows of death itself, all traces of green muted by the red and orange lighting of the dark room. The crowd panicked; a few people shrieked in horror, and the Order suddenly had their hands full containing the situation. Other Death Eaters around the room began to disapparate or duel the Order. Rabastan and Snape grabbed onto each others' shoulders, wedging Layla firmly between them as she still held tight to Rabastan, and disapparated together, just as Layla saw a flash of a Stunning Spell coming right toward them. Before the spell could hit, they were gone, and the trio landed with a loud pop outside the gates of Malfoy Manor. Adrenaline rushed through Layla's veins, her forehead dropping to Rabastan's shoulder as she sucked in a breath.

"Well done, Layla," Snape said, taking a few steps back from the other two and brushing a small amount of soot from his shirt.

"Lucius?" Layla asked, stepping back and looking up at Rabastan, her pupils blown by the Willow's Thorne. Rabastan started to answer, but a crack and cloud of black smoke answered for him. Lucius appeared a couple of meters away, breathing heavily. "Lucius!" Layla ran to him, tackling him in the tightest hug she could manage. She buried her face in Lucius's green suit jacket as his arms came up around her, supporting her weight.

Lucius looked at their two friends over the top of her head, his eyes wide with panic. "What the hell happened back there?"

Smirking, Rabastan said, "Layla darling caught the Order scum attempting to spy on us, set fire to the fucking place, sent up the Dark Mark, and we disapparated the fuck out of there."

Lucius stiffened. "Really now?"

Snape said with a satisfied smile, "She seems to have a talent for subtlety. I doubt anyone could pinpoint the source of the spells, even with the Order directly observing."

Chuckling, Lucius pushed Layla's dark hair back from her face, tenderly holding her close. "Well done, dearest. It seems you make a delightful partner in more ways than one."

"Are you ok?" Layla asked, resting her chin on his chest to look up at him.

"Of course," Lucius reassured her. "Because you did everything as I asked you. I could not be more grateful, dearest."

Snape made a gagging noise, and Rabastan said dryly, "And on that sickly sweet note, we'll be leaving. Have a good night, you two."

Two pops in quick succession announced Rabastan and Snape's departures. Lucius leaned down and kissed her hard, and she slipped her arms from his waist to around his neck, hugging him to her, clinging as if her life depended on his touch. When they broke apart, Lucius whispered, "I could not have asked for a more perfect wife, you know that?" Skin already flushed, Layla smiled playfully and began to kiss and nip up and down the column of Lucius's neck. He growled his approval, catching her by the hair, making her gasp, and pulling her back so that he could kiss her lips again. When he pulled away again, she whined, and he said, his voice thick, "Bedroom. Now."

Layla grinned. "Yes, dear."

Lucius's smile grew and he murmured. "Good girl."