November 2008
Muggle London, England
Monday evening
Draco spent a few minutes muttering incantations in front of the fireplace to reconnect the floo.
Well this is real awkward, Lyra thought to herself.
"I'm going to bed now," she announced to him as he worked.
He nodded. "Let me run into your room and grab some of my night clothes," he said standing and moving down the hallway.
"I can always move rooms. I didn't know it was yours," she replied.
"No, you're settled. I'll sleep in my mother's room," he said, pulling some things from the stocked closet.
"Ok, goodnight then."
"Goodnight," he said walking out of the room.
Lyra retreated to the bathroom to get ready for bed. I immediately regret this decision, she quipped internally. It's fine. Everything's fine. Don't make it weird. Why did you say 'stay?' Why not something less desperate? Hey, you're ok I guess, you can stay here if you want. Zero chill. And now you look like a moron.
She finished getting ready for bed and flopped forlornly into the amazing, large bed. Much to her surprise, she was able to fall into a deep sleep with little effort on her part.
Lyra awoke in the dark, after an uncertain amount of time, and trudged reluctantly off to the bathroom to use the toilet. She was about to contentedly pitch herself back into bed when she heard a strangled sob come from the direction of the living room.
Her heart absolutely sank at the noise. She knew what it was. She'd been having them too. The night before it could have been her, crying out for Harry, screaming for Draco to stop. She stood frozen at the side of her bed, unsure of what to do. In the event of one of her own recent nightmares being witnessed, what would she want? Would she want someone to wake her or let her keep dreaming?
She was mulling it over, trying to be logical in her approach, when she heard another weak cry from the living room followed by her name. She was out the door and down the hall in seconds.
He was stretched out on the couch in his pajamas, the TV illuminating him in the darkness. He looked uncomfortable. He had one hand gripping the pillow under his head and the other in a white knuckle twist in the fabric of his shirt at his stomach. His face was contorted in distress and he had sweat shining across his forehead. He let out a soft moan and she called his name gently to see if it would wake him.
When it didn't work, she kneeled down on the floor beside the couch, her face level with his at a respectable distance. She stole a deep breath and reached out to grab his shoulder. When her hand made contact with his body, he twitched violently. She shook him gently and called his name. He trembled once more before emitting a grumble and slowly opening his eyes.
"Hey. You...you were having bad dream." She whispered to him.
He blinked several times and frowned at her.
"I'm sorry if I woke you," he whispered back.
"It's ok. I was up. I...I have them too, sometimes." She admitted.
His frown deepened.
"Stop moping." She quipped.
"I'm reflecting, not moping." He quipped back.
"Go to bed. You look ridiculous on this thing," she said motioning to the couch.
"I'm fine, don't worry about it," He said, trying not to focus on the neckline of her nightdress or how beautiful the creamy yellow looked next to her skin in the low light.
"Are you deaf? Don't make me repeat myself. Up with you." She clapped him hard on the shoulder.
He pulled himself to his feet sleepily and followed her down the hallway before she turned and shoved him unceremoniously into his mother's room.
"Go," she said in a bossy tone. "I reserve the right to hex you from across the hallway if you start bellyaching in your sleep again," she quipped before retreating into her room, leaving the door ajar.
"Well, blimey, that's thoughtful of you." He said sarcastically, pitching himself into the large unused bed.
"Well, you know I'm a giver that way," she yelled across to him, climbing in under her own covers. "Go to sleep, Frog."
"Goodnight, Lyra."
She was asleep within minutes, her breaths falling even and deep. Draco couldn't sleep initially, his mind spinning with the events of the endless day. He crept to her door to look at her, regarding the gentle waves of her long dark hair around her shoulders and the slow rise and fall of her chest. The nightmares weren't the only thing making him avoid falling back asleep. He wanted to watch her, make sure she was safe, make sure she was real. After a few moments, he felt guilty for his behavior. You stalked this woman for fucks sake. Like you need to be peeking in on her while she sleeps, you sick bastard, he thought. He commanded himself back across the hallway to lie down, but didn't find much rest there.
Lyra woke gently, the daylight of midmorning streaming through the window. She yawned. Oh man, that feels good, she thought, referring to the notion that she'd slept harder last night than she had in days. She was about to jump contentedly out of her bed and her nightgown to have a little morning naked time when she froze, remembering that she was no longer alone in the apartment.
"Draco?" She called out.
The only response was the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom connected to the other bedroom. She decided on a shower for herself, then made the executive decision to try and look like a real person today, complete with trademark high heels and war paint.
She took her time and entered the kitchen wearing a structured black dress under a black overcoat with glimmering silver buttons. Her hair was in a sleek, low bun off to one side and she had gone with simple black eyeliner and traditional red lips. She had on her new shoes, spelled to perfectly match the color of her skin. The overall effect made her legs look incredibly long and slender.
Draco had to remember to breathe when he saw her. She could be in a velour jumpsuit from TopShop and still be lovely, but this was different. This was her making a point, probably to herself, that she was in control. She looked achingly beautiful to him.
"Espresso?" She asked.
"Sorry, what?" He said, snapping out of his reverie.
"Would you like an espresso?" she repeated.
"Yeah, that'd be great." He replied, rubbing his neck.
"So what are you up to today?" She asked him noncommittally as she fussed with the coffee-maker.
"I have an errand to run for my Mother on Oxford street and then I was going to go over to the Tate for a stroll."
"Please don't take this the wrong way, but...do you have a job, kiddo?" Lyra inquired, her back to him.
He snorted. "I do. A very important job. Several, actually. Appear idle and useless to make the plebeians jealous, show up on request to all of my Mother's philanthropic functions, and watch while the interest accumulates in my accounts over at Gringott's and Barclay's," he informed her, unironically and without defensiveness.
"Ah," she replied. "What was it that made the Malfoy's rich in the first place? I feel like you've told me before but I don't remember," she mused.
"Dragon trade," he replied. "All of it's so over-regulated now, most everything was sold off to governments three, four generations ago," he continued.
"But you're still one of the most wealthy wizarding families in Europe," she said, the question implied.
"We invest wisely," he shrugged. "Leaves us time to study obscure runes, go to brothels, and meddle in national politics."
She laughed, setting an espresso down in front of him. "Well thank goodness for that."
He smiled. "Come with me, today. That is, if you're willing to miss an hour of MI-5," he rushed out, taking a chance.
"An entire hour, are you nuts?!" She fired at him before smiling wide. "I would love to go to the Tate, actually. I didn't know you liked modern art so much."
"I didn't back then. I got into it after..." he trailed off.
"Well, your taste is exquisite," she said, motioning to the examples around the living room. "I love the blues."
"Me too," he replied.
They took a black cab to Oxford street where Draco ushered her inside an opulent jewelry store. Harry Winston, to be exact. "A New York based jeweler? Draco, I'm appalled!" She quipped, passing in front of him as he held the door for her.
"Well, you see, New Yorkers are the only people tacky enough to set stones the size my family can afford," he replied.
"Tool," she fired at him.
"Peasant," he shot back.
Draco left her to browse while he met his man in the back to collect whatever his mother had sent him for. Lyra meandered slowly in between the glass cases which were filled with gorgeous gems of every imaginable color. When it came to romantic gifts, flowers be damned, she was a jewelry girl through and through. She was also almost always single, and didn't make enough money to justify buying them for herself very often. Truth be told, most of the fine things that she owned were gifts she'd gotten from Draco when they were young. Diamond earrings, a beautiful snake bangle with sapphire eyes, a delicate pendant made of dragon scale.
"You look in a trance," Draco said coming up behind her. "See something you like?"
"I like everything," she sighed.
"Pick something out. You've...how do you put it...had a shit week," he said down at her with a little smile.
"No. You and the rest of the haute-bourgeoisie need to stop buying me presents. It'll make me lazy. I need to work for my shinies," she replied.
"Well, sweetheart, you did practically die last week. Maybe you're good for awhile?" He said with a wary huff.
"Hmm..." she drawled, looking up at him slyly. "Ok. I do want something."
"Anything," he said to her, seriously.
"I want you to buy something nice for Ginny Potter," she told him.
He narrowed his eyes. "What? No! I'm not buying jewelry for the Weaslette!" he replied in a harsh whisper.
"But it's what I want," she said with a little pout.
"Yeah, but I meant for you," he whined.
"It IS for me. I love Ginny, I'm too poor to get her anything this nice and, AND you blew up her house!" She argued.
"Oh come on. I didn't mean to blow up her house. Do I have to do this?" He carried on.
"No. You don't have to do anything. I just think it would be so nice and it would mean a lot to me," she explained.
He pursed his lips and rolled his pale eyes. "Sod it. Fine. How about that," he said pointing at an opulent ruby necklace.
"Ugh, Draco, no. It's rubies! She's a redhead. It'll make her look like a fancy tomato. Come on, do this right. She's a lovely young redhead with freckles. You need emeralds or aquamarine or something yellow," she said, leading him towards the correct section of the store.
They looked around until Draco pointed out a pair of earrings that had warm yellow topaz studs, connected to rich emerald drops in a pear shape. They were unique, not impractically large and would make Ginny look like a queen.
"Perfect. She'll love those. Good eye, Frog," she said to him in encouragement.
He grumbled something unintelligible at her but stopped when she squeezed his arm reassuringly. He motioned for the attendant to have them wrapped and Lyra excitedly jotted down Ginny's address for delivery.
They left, piling into another cab, and headed off to the Tate to take in the art.
The Tate - Tate Modern - gallery of international modern art in central London. Amazeballs, if you're ever in the area.
