November 2008
Muggle London, England
Monday
Draco had to get out of Wizarding London. He felt like hell with the guilt and rage pressing in on him from all sides. He had reporters outside his house, outside his mother's house. He couldn't very well wander into Knockturn Alley for a pint because they'd follow him there too. He refused to go to Wiltshire, to the Manor. He didn't want to be anywhere near where he had...where she had been...
He packed a bag, took some clever backwaters out into Muggle London, and hopped in a cab for the Savoy in Westminster. He and his mother had, for years, sporadically taken refuge in an apartment they had there when his father had been in one of his more insufferable moods. It was a small affair, only 2 bedrooms, but Narcissa had given him free reign to dress it up however he liked. In his case, that rather meant a dressing down. Light colors, exposed wood, modern art. It was plain, but it had been a sanctuary to him. To both of them.
He stopped by the hotel side first to grab a coffee before circling around back to the residences. He was greeted warmly there by Sam, the ancient doorman.
"Mr. Black, it's nice to see you. It's been too long."
"You alright Sam? How's your wife?" Draco asked, taking a fraction of a second to respond to his pseudonym.
"Oh she's quite well. We've a new little grandson now. She's up to Leeds helping our daughter get settled. You give that sly mother of yours our thanks for the flowers," Sam replied.
"Congratulations! I will do that," Draco said, stepping into the elevator.
"Oh, Mrs. Black just ordered some dinner. It should be along shortly. She's a lovely woman," Sam explained.
"Oh. Very good. Thanks, Sam." Draco replied, confused. He figured his mother would be at the townhouse. As the elevator ascended, he set his bag down to retrieve his wand so he could send Astoria a message by floo about his mother's being out of town. He stuck his wand between his teeth and grabbed his bag to exit the elevator into the apartment. I doubt the floo is even still connected, he thought to himself.
"Hang on, Sam, let me help you..." he heard a distinctly non-English voice call out towards him.
He looked up to see Lyra frozen, about ten feet from him, her hand clutched to her chest.
He dropped his bag and spit his wand into his hand. "Lyra?"
Lyra made a choked little sound with her throat and then gave an inhuman jerk with her body as if she were trying to apparate without a wand.
Speaking of, he was quite glad that he had his wand as she fell towards the floor, unconscious. He caught her with a quick Levicorpus before she went down and floated her over to the couch. He stared at her confused for several seconds. Mother, he thought to himself. Of course she would.
He retreated back to the kitchen to wait. He didn't want her to see him when she awoke, lest it cause a similar response. He'd make sure she was alright, then head to a hotel somewhere else in town.
"Draco?" She called weakly from the couch after a few minutes.
"I'm here," he replied.
"Where?"
"In the kitchen."
She sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked around. When she saw him, her shoulders tensed visibly and it made him do the same. He felt like they were two skiddish animals, who just happened to cross paths, accidentally terrifying each other.
"Did...did you catch me?" she asked, looking down at the couch confused.
"Levicorpus." He replied.
"Oh."
"Are you ok?" He asked tentatively.
"Nope," she replied immediately, staring off into space.
"I'm sorry. I had no idea you were here. I was just trying to get out of town for a while," He explained, not looking at her.
"Hey, I get it...obviously," she answered, moving slowly to get up. "I can go back to Diagon," she offered. She tried to stand, got dizzy and ended up plunking gracelessly back down to the sofa. "Just give me a minute," she sighed heavily, suddenly tired.
"Please. Don't. I want you to stay. I can go anywhere. Did mother connect the floo for you?" He asked.
"I'm not sure," She replied.
Just then the elevator doors opened again revealing an overburdened Sam, trying to balance far too many plates in his arms. Draco shed the blazer he wore over a navy v-neck t-shirt and went over to help set the plates on the island in the kitchen.
"Oh thank you, Sam. I think I got a little bit carried away. Are you hungry?" Lyra asked.
"No no. You two enjoy yourselves." He said, accepting a tip from Draco and retreating back towards the elevator. "If you're looking to take your pretty wife for a date, they've got some big name American singer playing the Ballroom tonight."
Draco paused but picked it up seamlessly. "Well, maybe if she behaves, and eats all of her dinner," he said looking over at her.
Lyra scowled at him from the couch.
"I'd look out, Mr. Black. Been taking lessons from your mother, that one. No better friend, no worse enemy is what they say."
"That they do, Sam. Thanks," he replied.
"Good day, Mr. Black, Mrs. Black," Sam called from the elevator before the doors closed.
"Bye, Sam," Lyra said, turning her head to hide the atomic blush in her cheeks.
"So...we got married, did we?" He asked her tentatively, his eyebrows raised.
"Yes we did, darling. And you took my name, because you're such an incredible feminist," she fired at him.
"Hmmm. That wasn't in the recordings," he replied.
"What recordings?" she asked.
"I was at the Ministry today. Potter played me the recordings from those little Muggle ears you put around at the manor."
"Oh," she said, looking away.
"Lyra...I..."
"Please don't," she said standing up suddenly to face him. "I can't take one more apology, one more look of concern, one more conversation with someone treating me like I'm made of glass." She paused and then rolled her eyes at the subtle adversarial tilting of his head. "And yes, Frog, I understand that is a strange request considering that I just passed out at the sight of you. Shut up!"
"I didn't say anything, Puk." He countered, amused that she knew exactly what he had been thinking.
"Oh my god, Draco, you never HAVE to say anything. Are you new here?" She exclaimed.
"Uh. I'd say that we are in some uncharted waters with all of this...so yes! Yes, I think I am new here," he replied, voice thick with snark.
"You killed me, you prick! You have to be nice to me!" She yelled at him.
"I was! I saved you from a concussion not five minutes ago!"
She screamed, actually screamed, in frustration.
"What do you want?!" He barked back at her.
"I don't know!" She roared.
"No. Do better. What do you want?!" He said to her roughly.
"Arghhhh! I want to watch MI-5 and I want my pancakes and I want you to come here right now!" Her voice broke and she sobbed the last word, petulantly stomping her foot like a little kid. Not her finest hour of adulting, to be sure.
His expression went from anger to concern instantly and he moved with inhuman speed across the room to pull her into his arms. She pressed her face into his chest and wailed. He wrapped one of his hands in her long black hair and rubbed the base of her skull until she cried herself quiet.
Lyra was vaguely aware that he moved her to the couch at some point, never letting her go. She was cradled tightly in his embrace, her cheek snuggled into his chest, just beneath his collarbone. He smelled like sandalwood and the salt from her tears. She had her arm laid on top of his with one of her hands curled tightly in the sleeve of his shirt.
She pulled back so that she could look up at him. He looked down at her, flexing a hand that he'd placed on her hip. The sensation felt electric to Lyra and she had to harness a monk-like discipline not to push instinctively into his touch. She furrowed her brow at him.
"What is it?" He questioned softly.
"Do you really think I have lines around my eyes?" She asked, referring back to something he'd said to her while he was cursed and trying to kill her.
He laughed. Lyra had to work hard not to break, but she maintained her look of offense.
"No, sweetheart. I think you're perfect. It would take a sadistic, homicidal compulsion for me to ever utter such an insidious falsehood."
"Oh. Well...that's good I guess," she mused.
He ran his thumb up and down her forehead to smooth her brow. "Stop doing that though or you'll get some."
Lyra slapped at his hands and scrambled off his lap, missing his warmth immediately. She walked over to the kitchen to retrieve her much longed for pancakes and heard Draco turn the TV on behind her.
"What are you doing?" She asked him.
"MI-5. Your idea." He replied.
"Ah. You hungry?" She asked.
"What do you have?"
"Ummm...pancakes, spaghetti, mixed fruit, a bowl of Weetabix and 2 brownies," she answered, taking stock of her smorgasbord.
"Good gods, Lyra," he replied.
"Be nice to me," she grumbled.
He snorted. "A brownie please, my unwrinkled, fake wife."
She snorted and walked over to him, shoving the plate in his lap.
They sat and watched terrible British crime fiction until after the sun went down, stuffing themselves with room service. They didn't say much to each other, but both of them were keenly aware of the presence of the other person in the room. They watched each other move about the space; looked for the other when one was up grabbing coffee or away to the restroom.
"How's Scorpius?" Lyra asked him after a particularly boring episode that signaled the end of the stretch before the regular prime-time programming was scheduled to start.
"He's doing well. He loved that transfiguration you did on his shoes. Keeps asking when you can do it again," he replied.
She chuckled. "He's a cutie. I'll Scorpify his shoes whenever he wants. Oh! Speaking of, did you know that Astoria bought me a pair of Spellman's! Me! They're so nice, definitely too nice. If I had any sense I'd sell them and pay my rent. But I don't have any sense and they're mine-mine-mine," she chirped happily.
Draco smiled. "She told me that she likes you, despite her best efforts not to," Draco told her hesitantly.
"Yeah, well, you're her baby-daddy, and I'm a random Ex she'd never heard of. She had to at least try to hate me, on principle. I expected it. Plus, in her defense, she was having a real shit day. She's alright. Seems like a good Mom," Lyra replied.
"She is," Draco confirmed. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I feel like, if anything, this whole mess has made our relationship better, not worse. Astoria knows me to be a rubbish husband, because I was to her. But she has a lot of faith in me as a father, and I'm very thankful for that.
"Look at you, Draco Malfoy. Well-balanced adult and stuff, appreciating the subtle nuance of unconventional relationships. Color me impressed," she quipped, popping a piece of pineapple into her mouth.
"What about you? Why aren't you married with a carriage full of sprogs?" He asked, relishing how natural, how almost normal their conversation felt.
"Ugh. That was too British, even for you," she teased. "I don't know, actually. I date, but I keep finding reasons to just...not. Plus my skillset puts me in rather high demand at MCUSA, and I'm busy as hell most of the time. Most Americans don't do legilimency so good," she snarked. "I mean, if I am free, and I get lonely I can rush out to find a body no problem, but then when the sun rises, all I want to do is escape. There's always something. Too aggressive, too nice, too smooth. New York men. Maybe that's the issue," she shrugged.
"Lyra Black, workaholic, casual sex fiend and breaker of hearts. Color me impressed," he teased back.
She smirked. "And kids? Dude, I am a kid. Plus, I'm worried that I'll end up with one who's like me and we would just stand around a messy kitchen all day trying to boss each other around. I can do that with my own subconscious, thanks."
"Come on. I think that would be brilliant," he replied.
"Haha. No," Lyra clipped. She yawned suddenly, which reminded her of her 'day plan' that had gotten a little bit derailed. If she was going to get this thing back on track, she needed go back to sleep like a lazy bum.
"You should get some rest. I'll get going," Draco said, standing.
No. Stay. She thought.
"Are you sure?" She asked. "I can find somewhere else."
"Absolutely not. You improve the place. You will stay," he said warmly to her. She blushed.
"Speaking of. You did this didn't you?" She asked.
"I don't understand,' he replied.
"This apartment. You designed it. It reminds me of your bedroom at the Manor," she explained, looking around.
"I did, yeah."
"I like it,' she offered.
"Thanks, so do I. It's yours as long as you need it," he said.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He went to the kitchen to grab his things and throw his jacket back on. She walked him to the elevator. "I'm sorry for yelling at you before," she blurted out, embarrassed.
He smiled down at her. "You're here and you're alive and my son is alive. I would listen to you imitate troll mating calls for hours at full pitch just to be in the same room with you," he replied, surprising her with a kiss on her cheek as the elevator doors opened. He stepped inside leaving her speechless on the landing. "Goodnight, Lyra," he said to her as the doors shut.
She paced back and forth in front of the elevator, feeling him get farther away from her. She hated it. It pulled at her stomach and made her itch. No. Don't be a needy little baby. Plus, this guy killed you, Black. Is that your kink now? Oh come on, he only killed you a little bit, and he was compelled. Plus, the curse made him to that because he loves you. What's the weakness here? Going after a man who loves you, or letting a man who loves you leave because you're afraid of the message it sends? Aggggh! I don't know! She smashed her finger into the elevator call button.
As she descended, she went back and forth, hoping she caught him versus hoping she missed him. What was she doing? When the elevator doors opened, she was stunned to find Draco standing in the foyer, waiting to go back up.
"The floo..." "Stay." They said to each other simultaneously.
"Oh." Lyra said, turning red as a beet.
Draco stepped into the elevator next to her, hitting the button for the apartment.
"Are you sure?" He asked, looking over at her, a surprised expression on his face.
"I am," she replied with faux confidence, not looking at him. "I mean, it'd be a waste of space to have all to myself. Plus it's yours so..."
"Right," Draco replied.
"Yeah," Lyra said back before clearing her throat awkwardly as they ascended.
Author's Note - I want to remind everybody, because it happened so many chapters ago, that Narcissa told Sam at the Savoy that Lyra was her daughter in law. That's the origin of all the fake-wife stuff. I think it's cute. Happy reading! -MM
