October 2008
Wiltshire, England
Malfoy Manor
Wednesday Evening
Lyra rolled on to her side, facing away from the bathroom door. She could hear him moving around in the bathroom. She put a slight bend in her bare legs making one coil on top of the other to put them on display. He was a leg guy. No sense denying it.
His bathroom door opened. Lyra stopped breathing. She heard him gasp and stop breathing also. Got him.
Against all good sense, Lyra closed her eyes as her ex-lover and compelled stalker walked towards her at a tortuously slow pace, almost as if he wasn't sure she was really there.
She knew when he was directly behind her. She could feel the heat pouring off his body, warming her skin through the thin fabric of her robe. He reached down, bending over her, and tangled one of his large, pale hands in between hers which were pulled up close to her chin. The contact with his skin felt like a burn. She took in a slow breath and laced her fingers with his. He hissed in response.
"Lyra?" He whispered.
"What do you want, Draco?" she huffed in annoyance, turning his hand and placing his warm palm over her heart, effectively commandeering his whole right arm. She felt his other hand start carding gently through her long, black hair and, she had to admit it, it made her eyes droop a little.
"Why are you here?" He asked, continuing his soothing ministrations.
"Because your mom and her evil Scotch butler jumped me on the street so she could wrap me up for you like an early Samhain gift...presumably so you'll stay at home forever or some bullshit, I don't know." she grumped, as nonchalantly as she could, snuggling into his hand on her chest.
He chuckled. "You're still the same," he said in amazement, rubbing deeper into her scalp and eliciting a genuine 'mmmm' from her, which she immediately regretted.
"And you're still a vain little snot who takes hour long showers, cum-se cum-sa," she fired back casually.
He freed his hand from over her heart, grabbing her wrist. He tugged it gently until she was pulled on to her back and came face to face with him for the first time in ten years. They regarded each other in silence. The sight of him ripped open every scar he'd left on her when they parted years ago. The sensation itself was physically painful and left her breathless.
Still gorgeous...the bastard. That was the first thought she registered, once she had recovered the ability to think at all. He was tall and slim but with broad shoulders. His white blonde hair was attractively wayward from his shower. He had the same straight nose and the same stunning quicksilver eyes that she remembered. His hands were luminously pale in the semi-darkness, elegant but strong and marked like a map with prominent blue veins. Her eyes flashed with longing. She had loved his hands.
"I'm so glad you're here, sweetheart," he murmured to her after several moments of silence. His voice brought her back into herself and reminded her that she was there to fight this dude, not ogle this dude. This shirtless dude. This dude wearing nothing but a towel.
Her not-ogling was cut short when Draco crashed his lips to hers in a kiss that was bruising and heavy. Not loving the idea of him joining her on the bed, she pushed up on to her elbows to press him back. He seemed to take that as a response and pulled her to her feet wrapping her tightly in his arms, never breaking contact with her mouth.
She gave herself a moment, just a moment in there, to kiss him back. Her hands came up instinctively around his neck, blunt nails raking over the fine hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to growl into her mouth as she worked her tongue in time with his. Oh right...the homicidal compulsion...yes that. She pulled back instantly, leaving her arms around his neck, registering the exquisite feel of his smooth skin under her hands.
"Why'd you stop?" he inquired, eyes never leaving her lips.
"You know why," she said dropping her arms and putting some space between them.
"I do," he said sadly. "Will you do something for me?"
"As if you are in any position. But yeah, try me," she said, stalling. I need to get him in clothes, I don't want to fight him while he's naked.
"Just be honest with me, like it was. Like we were," he said, sounding almost like a sad child.
"I will if you will," she countered.
"Agreed," he replied.
"Are you gonna try and kill me, Lyra?" he asked with his eyebrows arched.
"Not unless you make me," she replied honestly, looking down at her feet and taking a moment to phrase her next question appropriately. "Why are you doing this?" she asked him.
"Because I have to." He spat before looking off in to the distance, frustrated.
"What are you going to do with me?" she inquired.
He hesitated. "Right now? I'm going to get as close to you as you'll allow me and probably annoy you very much in the process," he replied stepping towards her, clearly evading the question.
"So it sounds like there's time then," she mused.
"Time to...?" he replied, reaching out for her waist.
"Time to put on pants! What the hell is the matter with you?!" she exclaimed, batting his hands away and retreating back towards the fireplace.
He laughed brightly at her before advancing again, planting a kiss on her forehead, and walking in to his closet.
This is some fucked up shit, Lyra thought to herself. He was almost normal. All of the typical Draco characteristics were there. Flirty, aggressive, passionate. But he would come after her at some point. Of that she was sure. She could feel it bubbling between them like hot tar.
Draco emerged from his closet a few minutes later wearing a perfectly tailored black-on-black suit. "What are you wearing?" she asked.
"What?! Long lost love I haven't seen in ten years gets dropped into my bedroom courtesy of my crazy, meddling mother. You think I'm going to wear a horse blanket?" He defended, ever the snob.
"Hey, man. It's your house," she dismissed, looking away and pretending to analyze the contents of his bookshelf. Her eyes fell on the little Pukwudgie statue that his mother had pointed out to her earlier. She bent down to pick it up. "Like looking in to a mirror, isn't it Frog," she said with a sarcastic smile.
"Come on Puk, you don't look so bad. Few lines around the eyes maybe, but you'll do," he replied, adjusting his jet cufflinks.
"You unbelievable bastard," she choked out looking up at him with pure venom.
"I'm kidding, of course," he said, pausing to look at her, his features softening. "You are so beautiful," he said in a gentle voice. Lyra honestly couldn't tell if it made her feel thrilled or terrified.
"Too beautiful too torture?" She inquired tiredly, turning her back to him and putting the little figurine back in it's place.
"Oh no. I'm afraid that's what beautiful things were made for," he replied smoothly as he moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her small waist and burying his face in her hair, breathing her in.
Lyra felt a shiver of fear run up her back. But kept her face composed.
"So...love through violence it is, then" she said curling her toes in to the floor beneath her.
"Love is violence, sweetheart," he said sadly. She could feel his breath brush her skin.
He traced his lips along the junction between her neck and shoulder. She used to love that. He began planting soft kisses along her neck up to the space behind her ear. She closed her eyes and leaned in to him, she couldn't help it. Draco raised one of his hands off her waist to lightly trace the pebbled gems of the Quatrefoil hanging from her neck. "It looks good on you. I'd always hoped to see you in one someday," Draco purred lowly into her ear. Her eyes snapped open and she extracted herself from his grasp immediately, feeling mildly nauseous.
Oh hell no. Move him now. Get him down the corridor to the ballroom. Left, then left, 3 doors and then then right. What will he do if I run? Will he chase me or will he hex me in the back? Her pulse began to quicken. One stupefy between the shoulder blades could screw her whole plan, she thought. Come on, Black. Make him bend.
Lyra schooled a pained expression on her face and glanced over to Draco, who looked absolutely bereft without her in his arms. "Will...will you walk with me a while? I just want to understand," She said in a sad murmur.
He furrowed his brow and she could see tears gathering at the corners of his pale eyes. "Of course. I'd be honored," he replied. Ever the aristocrat, he held his hand foreword gesturing them out of the room and into the corridor towards the left. Towards the ballroom.
As they walked, she began. "I think I know the endgame here but I don't understand how it works. Do...do you want to kill me, Frog?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Of course not," he dismissed.
"But then why...I mean...What does it feel like?" she inquired.
He shrugged. "I feel like myself, mostly but with the added simple truth that you have to be destroyed. Toyed with and killed. It's like how Tuesday follows Monday. The sun sets in the west. I wake up another day with the knowledge that you have to die, bloody and broken. It's an oddly impersonal sentiment considering that I love you and whatnot," he said, never looking at her.
Her breath caught at his admission which was both placid and completely vicious at the same time.
"You know it's a curse, right?" she asked.
"Don't insult me, Puk. Of course I know it's a sodding curse." He huffed out, annoyed. "Bloody good one too, I'd wager. Wouldn't even let me kill myself to stop the compulsion. I tried several times. Poison, drugs, long soak underwater in the bath. I just...couldn't. Damn thing wouldn't let me."
Lyra stopped moving. She looked up at him, the dim light of the corridor making him look almost like porcelain.
He reached up with one hand and lifted some of her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He looked suddenly uncomfortable, almost embarrassed.
Considering that Draco had tried to take his own life to avoid taking hers brought a singular, very powerful thought crashing to the forefront of her mind: She really didn't want him to die. He was good. Ok, he wasn't good, but he was fucking hers. How dare he try and kill himself? He had to be in the world. She wanted him in the world. She just...wanted him.
She impulsively launched herself into his arms. He caught her readily, albeit a little surprised. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him. She suddenly missed him intensely. Who he was. Who they were.
He held her tightly, her feet dangling several inches off the floor. He said nothing, just savoring the contact. She loosened her arms after a time and he lowered her gently to the floor. He looked down at her and smiled. "Still such a bleeding heart, Lyra. I'm appalled," he quipped.
She wasn't having it. She pulled him down by the neck and kissed him soundly until he was breathless and she was dizzy. She walked away from him then on shaky legs, turning left down the main corridor, leaving him slack-jawed behind her.
"Keep up, kid. I don't have all day," she chirped.
He was by her side again in seconds, regarding her with a small smile as they walked together.
"Why bring up my father?" she continued, switching gears.
"To emotionally compromise you. Make you think I'd betrayed you or that I was in danger. It was a self-conscious move, I admit. I mostly just wanted to see what you'd do." he replied.
"Oh. And did I meet your expectations?" she asked, secretly counting doors as they walked.
He chuckled. "You've yet to disappoint me, sweetheart. You decided to come. You decided to push."
"Is that so?" she replied, feigning nonchalance.
"Yes, it is," he answered gently.
Sure he lacked some of the facts, but he was essentially correct. He couldn't know the extent of her motivation. Save her own life, save Scorpius. Save him, if she could. Prevent him from being someone who, in addition to everything else, killed his own son. It would break whatever was left of him and she felt, that whatever that was, he deserved to keep for himself, dead or alive. It was...complicated to say the least.
With all of her thoughts swirling turbulently in this way, Lyra felt her head start to pound. The lack of sleep, lack of food and intensity of the situation finally catching up with her. Wilted flower routine? Hey, I can do that, she thought. She reached out to loop her arm with Draco's and pressed her body in to his side as they walked. "My head hurts, Draco, can we stop for a minute?" She asked, conveniently across from the ballroom door.
"Sure, there's plenty of sitting rooms-" he began.
"No, this is fine," I'm just tired, she said honestly, pulling him with her into the room.
They entered the white ballroom walking slowly, shoulder to shoulder, like a couple at a party, pausing as they reached the center. Lyra was leaning on him heavily, partly for show, partially out of necessity. I should have had more than fruit and brandy, she thought to herself. Doing this without coffee? The hell was I thinking...
She looked around the ornate room, eyes fluttering rapidly, trying to spot the scale-like shimmer of Harry's invisibility cloak. "It's beautiful," she said honestly.
He hummed in agreement, but was looking down at her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her around to face him. With his off hand he turned her chin up, forcing her to look at him, and then outlined her jaw in a gentle caress as he looked into her eyes. "I love you very much, you know. It broke my heart to push you away back then. I want...I need you to know that. You have to believe me," he said in an increasingly urgent tone.
"I do, Draco, relax," she replied, trying to duck the intensity of his gaze. She did believe him, more or less, but she didn't need a retelling of their depressing past while she was facing a fight and her head was pounding out of her eyeballs.
"You want to save me," he spoke down at her, while she looked at her feet. "It's what you do. It's why you stood by me for all those years and it's the same reason you're in this room right now." Lyra swayed on her feet, feeling slightly dizzy.
Draco shot a wary glance at at her and continued. "I know there's a part of you that still loves me too," he said plainly. "I don't deserve it. Any of it. I'm a bad person. I'm going to hurt you and you know it. But you're still here," he said with true anguish in his voice. "You're the best person I know. Better than Potter, the insufferable git. I know you were planning on him being here with us. I doubt he'll ever forgive himself for letting you die. Honestly, I'll probably never forgive him either."
"What are you talking about? Harry isn't here." Lyra said, lifting her head to him.
"Oh," he said, suddenly disappointed. "I thought we were doing the honesty bit here. You know. Old times sake and all that. Well, I'll help you out. Potter's not here to save the day. I had my mother stun him upstairs," he explained.
Lyra froze. Her hands beginning to shake. It had all fallen apart. She was going to have to fight him straight up. She would probably have to kill him.
"Why would she do that?" She stalled.
"Imperious curse."
"How long?" Lyra asked.
"Just upstairs. When she went to the ladies. She always forgets that's where I used to catch her to petition her for more allowance when I was younger," he quipped.
"How sweet," she replied in disgust, pulling herself out of his arms and taking her wand out of her robe, backing a fair distance away from him. "You can't beat me hand to hand," she replied confidently.
"No, sweetheart. I can't."
"How do you expect to kill me then?" she inquired, raising her wand slightly.
"I killed you an hour ago," he replied sadly.
She froze. Swallowing hard as the tears gathered in her eyes. "The brandy," she said, defeated.
He nodded. "Delayed action poison."
He looked down at her still shaking hands. "I'd say you have about 5, maybe 10 minutes before it takes you."
"I...I need to sit down." Lyra said, voice shaking.
Draco reached out for her. She backed away violently.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" She looked around frantically. "Harry!" She choked out in a desperate sob and started meandering away from Draco aimlessly, the dizziness starting to set in again. "Harry!" She cried again weakly.
"He's not here," Draco replied harshly.
At what felt to her addled brain like full speed, Lyra turned to point her wand at the hidden door to the antechamber containing the rest of the Aurors. She got through the first word of the incantation before Draco fired a curse at her, breaking her arm. She screamed, but had enough remaining coordination to flip her wand into her off hand.
"Stupefy!" She screamed, throwing the hex at him.
With the poison setting her off balance, he parried her easily, expelling her wand from her hand. The force of the spell on her weakening body caused her to trip over her feet, stumbling backwards. She stared up at him with tears streaming down her face, all but hyperventilating. He regarded her warily, as if the sight of her this way was offensive to him.
"It will be over soon. I'm hoping the poison will keep you from feeling so much the last few minutes." His voice sounded thin and far away.
"What?" She said shaking her head. She tried in vain to scuttle away from him on her good arm.
"Sectumsempra!" He yelled without warning.
She gasped in pain as her father's curse ripped dozens of deep cuts into her body, pouring her blood freely onto the ornate wooden floor of the ballroom. The sting of them was excruciating and her limbs felt like lead as she attempted to crawl away from her assailant, legs refusing to flex under the effects of the poison.
"Harry..." She whimpered.
"I'm so sorry, Puk. Please don't cry," Draco said, frowning at her back.
She barked out a desperate sob, slipping on her own blood beneath her as she tried to get away.
"Crucio!" He yelled.
She writhed, screaming hoarsely, her face pressed to the floor. She felt her intestines cramping forcefully with the combined effects of curse and poison and she struggled in vain to make herself tiny. To disappear. She lost all sense of time and felt as if he was trying to crush her in to a single point of fear and pain. She cried out for mercy, for death and finally for her mother before falling silent, unable to produce any more sound.
At some point her vision went red and faded to nothing, but she could still hear. Draco lifted the curse and she heard him come towards her, his footfalls out-competed by the sound of her labored, rattled panting. He was crying. She furrowed her brow. It always broke her heart when Draco cried. Shhh. It's ok. It's ok, she thought, or maybe said out loud, she wasn't sure. She recalled an image in her mind of Draco's son playing with a little toy train in a chair and she felt tears dripping down her nose on to the floor to mix with her sticky blood. She weakly nodded her head to let him know she was ready. He choked out an anguished sob. Lyra heard only the first word of the curse before the world went black and she felt no more.
"AVADA..."
Author's Note - So there we go. Hope you like it, next chapter coming out soon! -MM
Samhain - Halloween
