November 2008
Wizarding London, England
Ministry of Magic of Great Britain
Office of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Department
Thursday
Lyra and Harry sloshed back to the commons together, chatting excitedly about the match. What was good, how the other could improve and so on. When they entered into the once-again bustling common room, the place erupted in more cheers. Zabini and Gold found them first.
"That was the stuff of legend! You need to teach me some of what you did? How do you even move your arms that fast?" Zabini chirped happily to Lyra.
"Well, I have very little arms, you see," she joked. "I'd be happy to show you...maybe next week because I would be shocked if I can move said arms tomorrow."
"Anytime. You tell me," he said.
"The Malfoys are here, waiting to see you, Harry," Gold informed them.
"Right, ok. Tell them I'll just be a second to change," Harry replied.
"Can I sit in on that?" Lyra inquired.
Harry turned to her and furrowed his brow. "Do you really want to? I mean, he's here, and all."
"No, I know that. It's fine. I'd like to," she replied.
"Yeah, I guess that's alright," he replied.
"Harry, I feel like I should tell you something-" She began, before getting cut off by the sudden arrival of Simpkins and Rossman who showered them with more praise and requests for instruction.
Harry broke away first, "Lyra, I'm going to change. Meet me in room two in about ten, yeah?" He said, walking down the hall to the men's changing room.
Damn. Ok. It's fine. Just tell him later, she thought to herself. Tell him what, exactly? You shagged the dude who killed you? The dude who used to basically bully Harry for kicks? Ugh. She trudged off to her own changing room and clean up.
Lyra took a little bit of time putting herself back together. Spelling her long hair dry, reapplying some makeup, making sure her tight pencil skirt was on straight. She had sustained a little cut on her forehead during her fight that was already closed so she didn't bother healing it. Plus, it made her look like a badass, and she was feeling it.
She took a deep breath outside the interview room. Ok, it doesn't have to be weird. So you're about to sideseat an interview with a subject who knows very well what your vagina looks like, so what? My mediwitch knows and she's a consummate professional. No big deal. She slapped on her most placidly even expression and entered the room.
Harry was already there, chatting niceties with Narcissa Malfoy about his family. Draco appeared to be ignoring the bulk of the conversation but snapped to attention when she walked in, rising from his seat, like the aristocrat that he was.
"Down boy. This is business casual," she quirked, motioning for him to sit back down.
He did so, shooting her a cool look. "Lyra," he said flatly.
"Draco," she replied. And it's weird now, she thought. Nailed it.
Harry looked anxiously back and forth between the two of them, trying to come up with something to say, fortunately Mrs. Malfoy was all over it.
"Lyra, what an amazing show you put on this morning. Both of you. You're an incredible fighter, truly. I've never seen anything like it," Narcissa crooned sweetly.
"Thank you. I'm glad you were there to see it," Lyra replied politely.
"Are you still coming for dinner this evening? The elves are already hard at work," the blonde witch continued.
"I sure am, provided I can get all of the water out of my ears," she replied, shooting an accusatory glance at Harry.
Harry snorted and then got to it. "I appreciate you both coming in today. I wanted to see if you'd go on record about whether or not Lucius has any active connections to the modern blood-purity movement. As I'm sure you've read in the papers, they've been having a bit of a resurgence lately and we want to investigate whether his actions had any relation to their cause."
Oh god...I did not sign up for this. Lyra thought.
Mrs. Malfoy gasped and grabbed the pearls at her throat. Draco sat, staring daggers at Harry and clenched his fists.
"What the hell are you saying?" Draco spat.
"I'm saying that your father was a Death Eater for years, went to prison because of his open alliance with Voldemort, and has indisputably been using dark magic again. I wonder if, on a grander scale, that it's possible he's gone back to his old ways," Harry clarified, remarkably calm.
Lyra looked across at Narcissa who was trembling. "I...I don't...," the woman mumbled in a shaky voice.
"Harry, maybe we should-" Lyra began.
Draco jumped up from the table without warning and stormed out of the room.
"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Harry began, looking bewildered.
"I...I should go find my son, excuse me," Narcissa made to stand up, but Lyra stopped her by reaching across the table and grabbing her hand.
"Let me," she said with a sympathetic look. "Let me do it."
The shaken witch gave a small nod of agreement before settling back into her chair uneasily.
Lyra shot an exasperated look discretely over to Harry, who seemed genuinely surprised by the way the scene had played out. Honestly, pal. You are killing me here, she thought hard at him, hoping he'd hear it. She excused herself and left the room in search of Draco.
She found him just down the hallway, pacing back and forth angrily in front of some empty conference rooms. He shot an intense glare at her, but didn't withdraw when she approached him. She opened the door to an empty room along the corridor and nodded for him to follow her inside. She was relieved when he complied. She shut the door behind them and watched him warily for a few moments as he moved with agitation around the small space.
"I'm so sorry, Draco. I didn't know he was going to do that," she said to him honestly.
"Bloody wanker. Like my mother hasn't been through enough, we're expected to go back in time now so Potty can remind us how much better he is than we are," he bit out grimly.
"No. It's not like that," Lyra began.
"Are you defending him? Bloody perfect, Puk. Thanks a lot," Draco interrupted her, running a frustrated hand through his platinum hair.
Lyra sighed. Get your hands on him. Calm him down. She walked over, getting much closer than friendly, and looked up at him. She reached out tentatively and put her hand on his chest, tugging gently at his black silk tie. "Hey, no." She soothed. "That was a big bomb to drop on you both. I'm sorry it happened that way. I...I can't imagine how hard that must be to hear."
"Do you think he's right?" Draco questioned with an edge to his voice.
Lyra grimaced. "I honestly don't know. I wouldn't put it past the old man, though I didn't see anything concrete about it when I read him. I also think anti-pureblood supremacy is Harry's big thing, and it might be one of those situations where he sees it anywhere he looks," Lyra explained, rubbing the smooth fabric of his tie between her fingers. She stared ahead at his chest and noted the way his breathing slowed as he looked at her.
Draco huffed then brought his nose down to her hairline to breathe her in. He had missed her. He wanted to take her back to the Savoy and keep her in bed with him all day.
"You're hurt," he said to her softly.
"What?" Lyra asked, looking up.
He ghosted his fingers over the little cut on her forehead.
"Oh, it's fine. Small price to pay for eternal glory," she smirked up at him.
"You were incredible," he informed her. "Why didn't you heal it?" He asked, moving his thumb back and forth over over the skin adjacent to the injury.
"Because it makes me feel like a badass," she replied, smugly. "You wanna heal it for me?" She asked, hopeful that it would appeal to his possessive streak, or maybe her possessive streak, she wasn't sure.
"You can do it for yourself, I'm sure," he murmured back to her.
She frowned. "I know, but I want you to do it," she whispered up to him, her breath caressing his neck.
His jaw gave a little twitch and he pulled his wand out. He passed it in front of her face and muttered a healing incantation.
Lyra felt a warm glow and tingle at the site of the cut and then nothing. She reached up to smooth her hand over her unmarred skin and smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," he replied gently.
Lyra sighed. "What do you want to do here, Draco? My professional opinion is that it's not a baseless line of questioning and could potentially be helpful in a broader sense. My personal opinion? I can see it causes you and your mom some pain to discuss, it's not directly part of this case and I'll support you if you walk," she offered.
He huffed dismissively. "Really? I thought you and Potter were best mates now?"
"We are best mates. Doesn't mean I have to agree with every single thing he does. I mean come on, I don't agree with everything you do and we still...you know," she trailed off, awkwardly clearing her throat.
He laughed. "Fair point. Speaking of, it's been far too long since we...you know," he said, lightly mocking her awkwardness. "I think that warrants action," he murmured to her, gently toying with a piece of her long hair.
"I bet you do," she quipped, blushing.
After several seconds, he shook his head and sighed. "I can't speak for my mother, but I'll do it on the condition that you do the questioning. I don't want to talk to him."
"I don't think it would be appropriate for me to lead any line of questioning at this point with everything that's happened," she added referring not only to their death-match at the Manor, but also their personal relationship. She hesitated. "Would you let Blaise or Azalea do it if I sideseat?"
Draco frowned and took a deep breath. "The witch. You know when I came to at the Manor she was the one who realized you were breathing? She seems...not awful," he added, feigning disinterest.
"She's a good egg," Lyra confirmed. "Plus, I'll be right there," she reassured him, pressing her face into his chest and bringing her arms around his waist.
Draco wrapped her in a loose hug and they just stood there for a few moments in silence.
"Should we go back?" He questioned.
"Mmm-hmm," she replied into his shirt. "In a minute."
He pulled her in closer and hid his smile in her hair.
Lyra canceled her afternoon legilimency practice with Simpkins so Rossman could interview the Malfoys officially. She cleared it with Harry, of course, who was miffed but grateful that they'd agreed at all after their initial reaction.
She had Rossman take Draco and Narcissa through the interview together so they would be able to support each other. Lyra installed herself next to Azalea and remained silent the entire time, letting Draco lock his eyes with hers for an anchor when things got intense.
What followed was basically a crash course for Lyra on twentieth and twenty-first century British blood purity movements.
Mrs. Malfoy cried a lot but persevered with Draco's encouragement, and the gist was pretty simple. The Malfoys, like the Blacks were purebloods and had always advocated for that cause. The movement to which they'd historically subscribed quite insipidly viewed any magic for others as less magic for themselves and saw their class as the rightful keepers of magic on Earth. Magic in a muggle-born body was a perversion of nature. A non-magical child born to a pureblood family was a punishment for poor adherence to traditions. Pretty standard bullshit.
Narcissa explained to her that it was a common misconception, especially overseas, that the blood purity movement really started with Lord Voldemort, which wasn't the case. It both predated and postdated him, as evidenced by current activities. Those who fought for him did so for a variety of reasons, blood status being merely one of many.
Lucius had, like Narcissa's own father, entered the purity movement through an affiliation with an organization called The Vox Prima. The Vox was a secret society that inducted primarily wealthy, pureblood wizards and gave them safe spaces to mingle and collaborate to further initiatives that served their interests.
Draco continued, describing how Voldemort, gained membership to the organization in his youth and recruited from the inside, grooming the more extreme for elite membership in the Death Eaters. Draco surmised that his father was attracted more out of a love for exclusivity than anything else, but it was only a guess. The man was an enigma of self-importance and hate. He would jump on any excuse to secure his power at the expense of others, no matter the cause.
The Vox endured after the First Wizarding War which had occurred when Draco was just a baby. Afterwards, his father retreated back into the general body of the organization and remained active, plotting and scheming to maintain his influence. After the second war however, not only had the Death Eaters been exposed, but The Vox had quietly been dissolved to the best of his knowledge.
Narcissa recounted her experience in the Second Wizarding War, which had left her rightfully traumatized. She recalled that, towards the end, the majority of her fellow footsoldiers had realized that Voldemort was little more than a fraud and master manipulator. He didn't care about blood status, he cared about a unilateral consolidation of authority to shape the wizarding world as he saw fit. In his view, killing Narcissa and Draco, two aristocratic purebloods, to punish Lucius was completely acceptable. It was also a threat levied at them regularly by the Dark Lord as he dined at their table. Many of the elite wanted merely to maintain their wealth and status, not end up in the clutches of a homicidal maniac, like what they saw happening to the unlucky Malfoys.
Draco shared a bit about what he went though as well. Lyra had learned some of his story from the file that Colin made for her, but she'd never heard Draco in his own words. He had been tasked with killing Albus Dumbledore to punish his father for failing to secure a prophecy that concerned Voldemort and Harry. The choice was simple. He was to kill the headmaster or the Dark Lord would kill him and his mother. After Dumbledore was killed, Draco spent the bulk of an entire year with Voldemort living under his parent's roof. Killing people, torturing people right in front of him and threatening him with death on a near daily basis.
He believed he could die at any time, for any reason or no for reason at all. He explained it was very likely that the only thing separating them from death most days was, oddly enough, the support of his psychotic Aunt Bellatrix who, for all of her insanity, loved him and Narcissa in her own, odd way.
The experience had shown them that pureblood supremacists were largely cowards, afraid of a changing world, who would willingly burn a large part of it to the ground if it would keep them in champagne and diamonds. Lyra had no doubt, having spent time in both of their minds, that they were being honest about their perspectives. She just wished they hadn't nearly both had to die to change their views.
They shared with her that after his release from prison, Lucius had been restless and adrift with no base to go back to after the defeat of Voldemort. He felt betrayed by many of his 'so-called friends' who had, at least officially, renounced their support for the movement. Due to the crushing defeat and the intense public outcry against former supporters of Voldemort, the Malfoys had essentially become social pariahs, which was hard for Lucius because he loved an audience.
In the years following his public downfall, he'd largely become a hermit who kept to the Manor, favoring the archives and his study. Narcissa became the public face of the family, filling her time with various philanthropic endeavors to try and repair the family name. Draco was married quietly to a woman with money, but no remaining family to disapprove of their connection. Lucius's social circle consisted of Narcissa, Draco occasionally, and the few ministry officials that he paid obscene amounts of money to for information. Draco named those that he felt confident were associated with his father, including Julian Diamond, but figured that it could likely be more.
Neither of them had any hard evidence that he was in contact with anybody from one of the new arms of the movement. They theorized that if he did, he would likely gravitate towards any resurgent entities related to The Vox, if they existed, which they didn't know.
By the end of the long interview, she could tell Draco and his mother were exhausted and Lyra's head was spinning from all the information. She couldn't believe how complicated it all was. What did I say. Rich people are mostly weird and gross, she thought to herself as she saw Draco and his mother out to the common for the Floo.
Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I've got wide open spaces from here, so feel free to let me know if there's a particular thing you'd like to see. Also...next chapter will end with smut, because why not. -MM
