November 2008
Wizarding London, England
Ministry of Magic of Great Britain
Monday

Draco went in to the Ministry on Monday morning for questioning and statements. They brought him back to the Auror's office and he spent every spare moment craning his neck trying to catch a glimpse of Lyra. When he was in a deposition room, he jumped at every opening of the door, hoping it would be her coming to question him, coming to scream obscenities at him. Anything.

He sat forward anxiously then as the door opened. It was the young blonde witch he'd seen in the ballroom the day he woke up.

"Mr. Malfoy, good morning. My name is Azalea Rossman, I'm an Auror. I was part of the team for the raid at your parent's home in Wiltshire on Thursday."

"I remember you," he replied curtly.

"Right. I've been looking over your file and statements thus far and everything seems pretty clear. I reviewed the report from Rowena Wormwood, the Legilimency specialist from MLE, and she noted having come across some memories and feelings of apprehension you had regarding your father. I'd like to discuss those," she explained.

"It wasn't apprehension. It was regular old fear. My father is a terrifying and unstable man. He also has the distinct advantage of being exceedingly well funded and has a world-class private archive at his disposal containing all manner of dark spells, including and not limited to ancient compulsion curses, apparently. So, yeah. It was really just fear," he replied honestly. His instincts told him to lie. To protect the family as he had been taught. It took him a great deal of mental muscle for him to tell the truth.

"I see. Have you ever spent time in the archives with him? Did he have any particular areas of interest?"

"Runes, I'd say. Especially after he left prison and had the trace placed permanently. He's not the kind of man who does well with restrictions. He's also, unfortunately, keenly intelligent. You could put a master of runes next to him in our library at the Manor and they'd be out of their depth within minutes."

"How much have you been told about the curse he used?" She asked.

"Just that it was predictably runic, Finnish, which the old man speaks. It was irreversible, transferable with a blind. Corrupted my memory...well that bit I know firsthand of course," he replied.

"Those are the essentials. We've had it translated in full, with the help of texts offered by your mother from your family library. It's a profoundly nasty thing. You can add sadism and mania to it like ingredients in a custard. It also doesn't appear to mask the victim to the compulsion, meaning you likely knew what you were being forced to do," she explained.

"Yeah, sounds like something he would like," Draco shrugged, looking away. "Has anybody asked her what happened? What I actually...what I said to her, how I poisoned her? Nobody's told me anything."

"The raid was quite a standard set up, really. We had your mother with us to remove some of your wards, shut off the floo. We wanted to force you to apparate. Your mum told us you'd apparate straight into your room, or maybe the kitchens. We planted Muggle listening devices in your room, the kitchens and around the north wing to be aware when you arrived. The team, but for Harry and Lyra, staged inside of an antechamber in the ballroom in the north wing. Lyra was tasked with leading you there. Harry was supposed to be hidden in the room to release us so we could take you into custody and try to find a way to break the compulsion. A lot of that was Lyra herself. She was adamant we bring you in alive unless you went after Scorpius," Rossman explained.

Draco felt sick.

"The plan was setup to make you believe that Lyra would be there alone. We had your mother...erm...kidnap her off the street in London to get you to follow her back to Wiltshire," Rossman looked up at him.

He shrugged again, unsurprised. "Yeah. That would probably do the trick."

"It did. It appears, however, that you apparated first into the kitchens in the south wing of the manor and came upon some of your elves chatting about Harry Potter being in the house, which sort of gave up the game. It's such an odd little thing to have overlooked," the witch said to him, looking off into the distance. "You went upstairs to cast the Imperius curse on your mother in the ladies room. You directed her to attack Harry if he left the sitting room, meaning Lyra was alone. She got you there, but he was late, fighting your mother. We couldn't help her..." Rossman looked down at her hands and sighed. "We heard her screaming and we couldn't.."

"Hey. You didn't do this, alright? You didn't fail her. I did. I...I killed her," Draco cut her off, unsure why he felt the need to comfort the witch. She was nobody, but he vividly remembered how she cried over Lyra and cradled her body, so she probably wasn't exclusively awful. Nevertheless, coddling strangers wasn't really his strong suit, so he elected to change the subject. "Do we know how I poisoned her?" He asked.

"Our best hypothesis now is that you overheard your mother ordering food from her sitting room. According to the recordings from the ballroom, when you told Lyra what you'd done, she seemed to know that you'd poisoned some brandy that had been brought for her," Rossman explained.

His stomach lurched. That told him a lot. One big thing in particular. He sighed. "I think I can confirm for you that I had at least some of my wits about me while I was compelled," he said sadly.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Lyra loves brandy, like my father does. My mother hates it. If, like you said, I knew Lyra was in the house, the only possible recipients of it would be her, my father or Potter. Essentially, my target or two other people who I, on a good day, would have no qualms about poisoning. As a strategic play, it's effective and low risk," he explained, nonplussed.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Man, she was right about you," she said looking down at her notes.

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

"Lyra. She called you a cunning man who likes to win," she explained.

He shrugged, before recalling something important the blonde witch had said. "You said you have recordings from the ballroom?" He asked.

"Yes from the Muggle listening devices we planted in your bedroom and in the ballroom. It's...they're horrifying, but I think they'll be useful at trial at least," she clarified.

"I want to hear them," he said.

"I don't think that's wise, Mr. Malfoy."

"Bullocks. I want to hear them," he pressed.

"I'll have to talk to Harry and Auror Shacklebolt about it, but I really don't think it's a good idea," she replied.

"By all means. I'm not going anywhere," he fired at her, motioning at the door.

She rolled her eyes, but stood up and left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Several minutes passed before Harry Potter, acclaimed wanker, entered the room holding a curious little black device with the blonde witch in tow.

"Malfoy," he clipped.

"Potter," Draco returned.

They sat in front of him.

"Auror Shacklebolt wants me to inform you that you are under absolutely no obligation to listen to these recordings. They're disturbing and violent and you are free to go at any time," Potter explained.

"Understood. Get on with it," he replied.

Rossman stood up and turned to Harry, "I'd rather not again, if you don't mind, Harry."

"Not at all, Rossman. You can go," he returned, ushering the witch from the room.

"I was hoping you'd want to hear them and I'm glad I get to be here," Potter spat at him with pure venom.

"Alright, Potter, enough about your feelings. Make the box talk or whatever," Draco hit back.

Potter turned the device on. He heard the noise of a shower that was suddenly turned off. He heard a door open and made the connection that this was probably his bedroom.

"Lyra?" He heard his own voice say.

"What do you want, Draco?" Her voice rang out from the box.

He listened to every word. Every breath she took. He'd kissed her. Told her she was beautiful and that beautiful things were made to be tortured. Heard her manipulate him skillfully out of his room.

Potter flipped some dials on the box and initiated a separate recording that he informed him was of the ballroom. He heard his voice urgently telling Lyra that he loved her. Heard him reveal what he'd done.

"I killed you an hour ago," his flat voice said.

He heard her cry out for Potter. Heard her try to free the Aurors. Heard the snap of her bone. Her screams. Heard himself cast the curse that slashed cuts into her beautiful skin. He heard himself torture her. Heard her scream for her mother. Heard her scream until her voice was gone. He heard himself sobbing.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!-" He heard in Harry Potters trademark pratty voice, followed by a hollow sound. His body hitting the ground. The recording went silent.

Draco thought he was going to vomit. He put a hand over his mouth just in case and looked up at Potter, who looked similarly ill. They sat in silence together for several minutes, color slowly returning to both of their faces.

"I...I'm not going to pursue any charges against you for what you did, Potter. I'm glad you did it. Wish you'd done it a little sooner, if you want to know," Draco choked out, once he'd recovered.

"Me too, Malfoy," Potter shot back harshly before allowing his facade to crumble a bit. "She's doing better. They released her from Mungo's yesterday. Shacklebolt's given her some time off.

Draco nodded.

"She's too good for you," Potter stated, without malice, just as a statement of facts.

"She is," Draco agreed. "She always was," he said quietly.

"How is your son?" Potter asked.

"He's fine. Thought his stay at the Ministry with the Aurors was a great adventure," Draco answered.

Harry nodded. "He seems like a good lad."

"He is. All Greengrass, that one," Draco replied, referring to Astoria. "How are yours? Ginny alright?"

"Yeah, doing well. Ginny wants the Ministry to bill you ten times over for the new foyer," Potter replied.

"Tell her I accept. Let her know that I live in a building with a mess of other flats, but if she can keep it small, she's welcome to come over and blow off my door," Draco offered.

"I will run that by her," Potter replied.

"I'd like to be off, unless you need me for anything else today," Draco said.

"No. You're free to go. We'll need you for a few things later in the week. I'll have Colin owl you."

"Right." Draco replied, standing and grabbing his jacket. He made his way out of the little room.

"Malfoy," Potter called. Stopping him. "Take the floo in the Auror's common. There's press in the atrium."

"Thanks," Draco replied.

He flooed back to his flat and immediately emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He laid down on the cool tile of his bathroom floor and let his head spin. He would never be able to unhear the sound of her screams, of her pain. Curse or no, he would never forgive himself and he would never be the same.


November 2008
Muggle London, England
Monday

Lyra rolled over lazily in the king-sized bed, snuggling deeper into the covers. It was afternoon. She should get up. Why should I? Because you're an adult. Pfft. I'm an adult on post-being-murdered leave, she argued with herself. Her stomach growled. When you're up, you get food. Food is good. I should get up.

She reluctantly extracted herself from the bed and padded across the light, airy room to the adjoining bathroom. She brushed her teeth, washed her face and decided to call that good, since she had no intention of straying more than six feet from the couch for the rest of the day. Sleep-food-sleep was the plan. She pulled on a pair of snug jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt to lounge around in.

She made her way to the stainless steel kitchen in the apartment and flipped the requisite switches on her new little machine to make coffee happen. She picked up the black phone next to the refrigerator that rang out immediately to Sam, the friendly doorman.

"Good afternoon. This is Sam, how can I help you?"

"Hey Sam! It's Lyra Black. I was wondering if I could have some food brought here," she asked.

"That's no problem, love. Let me transfer you to the hotel and they can make anything you'd like. I'll bring it up."

"Thank you, Sam!"

"Good day, Mrs. Black."

She ordered a truly inhuman amount of carbohydrates from room service and plunked herself down on the plushy couch in the living room with coffee in hand. She then switched on the TV, intending to make herself good and useless. She was having a pretty good day. So far, she had been headache-free.

She got though about half an episode of a show called MI-5, which was apparently about British No-Maj investigator dudes, when she heard the elevator ding, signaling the arrival of her beloved food. She jumped up and wandered over to the doors.

"Hang on, Sam, let me help you..."she called

Lyra froze when she saw Draco walk out of the elevator with a coffee in one hand and a suitcase in the other. He was holding his wand in between his teeth.

She took an alarmed step back, hand clutched to her chest.

He noticed her then, dropping his bag immediately and spitting his wand into his hand.

"Lyra?" He gasped, puzzled.

Lyra tried to make a noise, but she couldn't. She also tried to run, but she couldn't. Her body, in it's infinite wisdom, then decided that the most appropriate course of action would be to pass out. And so she passed out. Fuck you, frog...you were supposed to be food, where the last thoughts she registered before her legs gave out.


Authors Note: I've been dying to get the next few chapters polished and out. They're some of my favorites. Special thanks to Shhh. I'm an alien for the kind review. This is my first fic and I honestly didn't think anybody would read the thing, so the encouragement really means a lot to me. Happy reading, all! -MM