October 2008
Wiltshire, England
Malfoy Manor
Thursday

Draco awoke with a groan. His head was pounding, his mouth full of cotton, and his bed beneath him felt as hard as a rock. He mumbled something unintelligible and turned on to his side. The action sent a sudden jolt of pain shooting in between his shoulder blades like he'd been slashed with a knife. The sensation had him sitting up and trying to reach back behind himself to determine the cause. It was then that he realized that the hand bracing him on his bed to hold him up was resting on hard wood instead. He looked around quizzically, What the bloody hell...

He was in his wing at his Parent's house. In the ballroom, his wand gone to god-knows-where. Whoa. Must have been a hell of a weekend, he thought to himself.

"Come on, Black! WAKE UP!" he heard a voice shout behind him.

He turned to face the commotion and saw 4 people anxiously crouching around Harry 'sodding' Potter, who appeared to be forcing something down the throat of a bloodied corpse in a nightgown. He closed his eyes and shook his head to reorient himself and hopefully clear the unwelcome hallucination from his mind. What did I take? he wondered.

"Lyra! Please wake up!" he heard Potter choke out in a half-yell, half-sob.

His eyes shot open and immediately scanned the room for her before locking on the body in Potter's arms. Long black hair, matted with blood. Lovely tan legs marred with seeping cuts. Her right arm was bent at an unnatural angle. The purple nightdress she wore was stained black from where her blood had soaked it. She had his mother's favorite Quatrefoil hanging curiously from her slim neck. Her hazel eyes were open, glazed and staring at nothing. Merlin, no...

"LYRA!" He roared pulling himself to his feet, ignoring the sting between his shoulders.

Potter looked up at him, stunned. "You!" he shouted accusingly. "You should be dead, you son of a bitch!" he cried, pulling Lyra's body in closer to his chest, covering his hands and arms with her blood.

"Spare me, Potter. What are you on about?" he snapped back roughly. His eyes landed then on Blaise Zabini who he pressed for information, "Blaise, what the devil is this? Why are you here? Why is she here?"

His friend made to speak, but was cut off by an irate Potter who was in the process of handing Lyra...or her body, off to a young blonde witch. "Why? I'll tell you why you miserable arsehole!" he exclaimed, getting to his feet and stalking towards him. "She was here because of you! She was trying to save you, trying to save your son and you bloody killed her for it!"

Draco had just enough time for his jaw to fall open in shock before it was met with the blunt force of Potter's fist, sending the blonde wizard back onto the floor.

"What are you talking about?! What about Scorpius? Is he hurt? I didn't kill anybody!" He rambled, ears ringing from the force of the punch.

"Your son is fine. He's safe. You have her to thank for it, you selfish bastard!"

He looked past the angry wizard towering over him back to Lyra. The blonde witch holding her was openly crying and rocking Lyra slightly, as if to soothe her.

"Potter, I swear to you. I have no idea what's going on," Draco stated, choking back a sob as he regarded her body.

"I believe you, Malfoy," Harry bit out coldly before walking away and motioning back to him with a lazy point of his finger. "Gold, Simpkins. Restrain Mr. Malfoy for transport to St. Mungos for evaluation."

"No. I want to know what's going on and I want to see my son," Malfoy protested before an Incarcerus charm wrapped him in thick ropes, forcing him to remain on the ground.

"In time, Mr. Malfoy," a young dark haired wizard said to him nervously. Draco sneered at him and turned his attention back to Potter who was addressing Draco's old friend.

"Blaise. Shacklebolt and a cleanup team should be arriving any minute, I want you to send an owl to update Astoria Nott and her husband. They'll need to remain secured for now, until we figure out if it worked," Harry directed. "Simpkins, leave him to Auror Gold and go back to the west wing. Mrs. Malfoy is in the sitting room in a body bind and she'll want to be Rennervated, I'm sure. Please tell her that Draco is safe. Don't say anything to her about Lyra just yet. She's prone to panic attacks, both real and imaginary, and I don't think she'll take it well right now," he said with no malice.

The fireplace in the ballroom roared to life allowing Kingsley Shacklebolt and 5 more Aurors to enter the room. "Harry, what happened?" The old Auror asked, walking over to Potter.

"It seems that Malfoy got back into the manor under our noses and found a way to put his mother under the Imperious curse. She told me as much and then attacked me when I left to meet the team that was locked in the antechamber you see there. Lyra got him here like she was supposed to, but I wasn't there to help her and he...she's dead, sir," Harry bit out, struggling to finish.

"No." Draco choked out softly. "I...I would never hurt her. She's...she's my friend...I..." he trailed off.

"We know, Mr. Malfoy. You weren't yourself when it happened, but we all cared for the lass, so don't expect anybody to be gettin' over it just yet," his Scottish guard said to him.

Shacklebolt regarded the American witch's body warily. "I have to get a hold of the Auror's office at MCUSA," he swallowed hard, rubbing a hand across his face. "And I have to tell her parents." He sounded tired, crushed.

"Sir, I should be the one. It was my call, it was my fault," Potter interjected.

"No, Harry. It's my responsibility," the old Auror replied.

Shacklebolt locked eyes with Draco and looked at him, not with rage, but with sympathy.

"HARRY! HARRY!" came a feminine shriek from the center of the room. "Harry she's breathing!"

Everyone in the room moved at those words, surrounding his witch, and preventing his being able to see her. He heard a choked intake of breath and then the sound of her retching. She emitted a strangled moan and begin sobbing hysterically, which set him straining against the ropes around his arms and legs in an attempt to get to her.

"Harry!" she wailed weakly. "Harry!"

The crowd thinned and he saw Potter hoist the shivering witch into his arms, which caused her to cry out in pain. "Kingsley, I'm taking her to Mungo's now."

"Go, Potter. GO," the man directed.

Draco watched as she disappeared into the fireplace, weeping into the shoulder of his nemesis.