November 2008
Muggle London, England
Tuesday
Lyra rushed excitedly back into the apartment to stand in front of one of the blue paintings on the wall in the living room. Draco trailed in behind her and smiled at her giddiness.
"I thought I recognized the style. You know I have a print at home in my bedroom of one of his at the MOMA in New York. Mount Fugi and Flowers. I love it. He just gets me," she waxed wistfully.
He chuckled at her. "Are you hungry? Should we order more obscene amounts of room service and see what the intrepid men of Her Majesty's Intelligence Service are up to?" he said, motioning at the TV."
Lyra pursed her lips. "I'm thinking no. Let's go somewhere."
"What would you like? I can have reservations made anywhere," he replied.
"No reservations. There's an Indian place down the side street that smells like heaven and looks like it's about a million degrees inside. Let's go there. I'd change shirts, if I were you," she said turning her back for one more look at the Hockney on the wall.
Draco did take a moment to change into something a little lighter than the open collared black suit he'd worn all day, opting for tailored gray trousers and a long sleeved black henley.
Lyra strolled back into the living room wearing a flowing, empire-waisted dress in crimson that stopped at the knees and had only delicate zig-zagging strings covering the honeyed skin of her upper back. It left a generous portion of her chest exposed and showcased her slim, toned shoulders.
Draco needed to put his long jacket on...immediately, so he did. He then helped Lyra into her coat, allowing his eyes to linger longingly on the lovely expanse of her neck and back revealed by the dress.
Lyra had been right about the restaurant. It was a bloody inferno inside. It was about the size of one of the smaller closets at the Manor and was packed with people. It was also decorated aggressively with fake marigolds and absolutely booming with noise. Lyra elbowed her way skillfully into a corner table and ordered for them. He had no idea what he was about to eat. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
The tea that was brought was decent, but sweet enough to put him in a coma. It was followed by two bowls of an unidentifiable soup looking substance that Lyra called 'curry,' hers red, his yellow, accompanied by a basket of puffed bread.
He opened his mouth to complain. Every bone in his aristocratic body told him to make a fuss. He wouldn't eat it, but then he glanced over at his companion with her adorable little mouth stuffed, looking at him expectantly, and he knew he'd already lost.
He took a deep breath, ripped off a piece of bread with his hands, like a savage, and dipped it into the...whatever, before popping it into his mouth, preparing for the worst.
He looked down at his bowl as he chewed, shocked. It was brilliant. Creamy and spicy and the bread was so savory. "Fucking hell," he said down in wonder at his plate. He heard the sweet trill of Lyra's laugh from across the table and looked up at her. She had her chin in hand, elbow on the table and was regarding him fondly.
"I knew you'd like it," she said, smiling.
"Like it? I'm sorry, Mrs. Black, but I found a new fake wife to replace you and it's that amazing old man in the back who made this," he quipped.
"I'm sure he'll be so thrilled," Lyra fired back, reaching across to dip a piece of bread into his bowl and pop it in her mouth.
Draco tried hers as well, but it was too spicy. "You're a mild kind of guy, trust me," Lyra informed him, patting his arm.
"Has Shacklebolt told you how long you'll have to stay?" Draco asked, changing the subject.
"He says maybe as long as December," she answered with a frown. "I've only been here for like what, two weeks? I feel like I've aged a decade though, and I'm so homesick. My Dad's coming out on Friday. Mom wanted to come, but I just couldn't, you know? Well, YOU know."
"Ah yes. How is the formidable Marla Black? Still force-feeding everyone she meets?" He asked.
Lyra snorted. "She's good. What time is it there? Two PM. I'm sure she's either doing a free shift at the hospital or is elbow deep in dough for crumble-crusts."
"Scorpius loves those. He ate three the other night. I wasn't even mad. I was impressed," Draco replied.
Lyra laughed full on. "They would get along great, I bet. Can you imagine?"
Draco smiled. She looked so lovely. "What are your plans for tomorrow?" He asked.
"I was going to floo over to Harry's. He'll be at work, of course, but I want to help Ginny with the kids. She's super pregnant right now and James, her eldest, runs on some kind of inexhaustible dark energy, I swear to you. I don't know how she keeps from losing her mind," Lyra told him.
"Would you mind if I brought Scorpius over to the apartment in the evening? He'd like to see you," Draco asked.
"Of course! Draco, it's your apartment. Please," she said, waiving her hand at him before stuffing her mouth with the last of her bread.
"No, sweetheart. It's yours until...whenever. Forever if you want it. I..." He stopped himself. She had asked him yesterday not to get into it. He didn't want to upset her.
Lyra eyed him warily. "Draco. I know you want to talk about...everything. I know it's selfish of me to ask you not to and I'm sorry for that, but I don't even know how to begin. Where to begin..." she trailed off, looking to the side at the other couples enjoying their food. She hoped none of them were trying to navigate the fallout from a compelled attempted murder, steeped with obsession...and love. It was kind of the worst. She sighed heavily.
"It's fine, Lyra. I can't imagine..." he began.
"But you can, though. Because this happened to both of us," she said sadly, not meeting his eyes. "I've never been compelled before, so I can't relate to that bit but if you want someone to talk to, you should talk to Ginny. Not only has she been the victim of compulsion before, but she's been the victim of compulsion because of your father. She still struggles with it," Lyra said hesitantly, not sure if she had said too much. "She doesn't like you, per se, but she doesn't blame you for what happened." She paused, reaching forward to grab one of his large hands with her small one. "And neither do I." She paused. "I'm not ok with everything. Not by a long shot, but I do know that," she said with conviction, her golden eyes boring into his silver ones.
He didn't know what to say so he laced his long fingers with hers, rubbing his thumb over her index finger soothingly. He heard her breath catch in her throat. She was staring at his hand with what he instantly recognized as longing. He knew that she had always loved his hands. She inhaled nervously and pulled away, turning to the waiter to ask for the check, which she insisted on paying, despite his best efforts.
They walked back to the apartment slowly, allowing the chill in the November air to refresh them after the swampy clime of the restaurant. Lyra stunned him as they strolled by performing one of her signature moves that he had all but forgotten. She absentmindedly placed her hand on the back of his elbow as they chatted and slid her arm down the back of his forearm to grab his hand. She must have, in all of their time together, done this to him a hundred times. Tonight though, under the London streetlights, it felt like the first time. The nerves in his arm lit up like dragon fire and he had no choice. He pulled her into his body by the hand that she gave him, took her cheek in his other hand and kissed her.
She tasted sweet, like Indian tea, with just a hint of salt on her upper lip. She made a shocked little noise in the back of her throat before falling into him, pushing up on to her toes to wind her arms around his neck. He pressed into her lower back with his palm, relishing the warmth of her little frame against his body. She opened her mouth wider to allow their tongues to meet and they lapped softly at each other as strangers passed by them on the sidewalk. Draco didn't care. London could have burned to ash around him and he wouldn't have noticed.
She pulled back after a time with a shaky gasp, allowing her arms to release his neck as she hesitantly moved her palms to trace the front of his jacket. He opened his eyes slowly, afraid of what her expression would tell him. She'd responded to the kiss, clearly, but he knew her...she could go one of several ways. Guilt, surging passion or paralyzed overanalysis. When he finally looked at her, he was a little concerned to see all of those things at once warring for dominance across her face. Give her a second, accept however she responds. Deserve her, He told himself.
"Lyra," he said, voice edged with worry after about half a minute.
"Take me home, Draco," she whispered up at him, her features softening, eyes glinting with desire.
He blinked hard and pulled back in surprise. "Yes. Right," he said, as he turned her in the direction of the hotel and grabbed her hand, pulling her along at a quick pace. "Come along, Puk. Keep up, won't you?"
She laughed at him brightly, but moved her feet quickly in the direction of the Savoy, her entire body buzzing with excitement.
Author's Note - Thank you to Shhhh. I'm an alien and Shell8bee for your kind reviews, I love them so! Also, heads up, the next chapter is going to be very M rated. I'm working to ensure that the smutty scenes contain practically no plot. So, if the smut is not your thing, don't worry. I'll put up a warning at the beginning of my next chapters and please just skip right over them. Happy reading! -MM
