Author's Note - This chapter is dedicated to Ahsilaa and 19irene96...because reasons. :)


March 2009
Wizarding London, England

Lyra stayed with Draco in London for a few days so she could go into the Ministry to formalize her pardon and official transfer back to MCUSA. Aside from profuse apologies to Darwin and Dinesh, the two men she stunned to break out of the Auror Department, she pretty much just kept her head down and stuck to her team as much as possible. She found herself avoiding the numerous pats on the back as much as the (blessedly few) judgmental scowls from strangers about everything that had transpired.

She did pitch an idea to Shacklebolt about the possibility of a jointly sanctioned Auror exchange between MCUSA and the Ministry for training and collaboration. She knew that under any other Minister for Magic it would be a non-starter, but Kinglsley seemed intrigued by the possibility of more open channels between Great Britain and other wizarding governments. It was a departure from previous administrations to be sure.

She already knew that she wanted Harry and her whole team to come to New York if the exchange were approved. She was happy to be getting the hell out of dodge, make no mistake, but she had fought alongside these people. They were etched onto her now. She trusted them and would be sad to leave them, even Blaise...not that she would ever tell him that.

They went out Friday evening to celebrate her farewell. Lyra discovered that Rossman and Simpkins had started dating while she was in prison and that, in a surprising turn of events, Simpkins was a hell of a dancer. She was happy to let him push her around the floor for a few turns while her buzz was setting in.

She got drunk enough to the point where Gold convinced her to try his Eqyptian pipes again and this time she actually did puke...all over his shoes. That'll teach him, she slurred to herself and to everybody within earshot.


March 2009
Wizarding London, England
Saturday Morning

She woke up Saturday on Zabini's couch, hungover and still wearing her tight black dress. She wiggled a little and learned that she was not alone on said couch. She was wrapped up like rice noodles with Rossman, who was snoozing soundly with her cheek resting on Lyra's breasts.

Hey. Not bad. She smells almost as good as Draco does, Lyra thought to herself.

She turned her head to yawn, so she wouldn't offend her snuggle buddy with her morning breath, and saw Draco and Simpkins standing next to each other, staring intently at them.

She imagined the suggestive picture they must have made. Slinky little cocktail dresses, wild hair, legs intertwined.

Lyra grumbled and made to extricate herself from Rossman, but Draco stopped her.

"Don't move, Sweetheart. You look absolutely perfect just where you are," he said, tilting his head to the side to study the women.

"I have to agree. It would be a shame if you got up and felt ill," Simpkins added as a practical matter.

Lyra sighed. Her deep breath stirred the woman in her arms and Azalea, in her sleep, ran her hand down Lyra's spine, stopping at her bottom and went still once more.

Lyra looked back and saw Draco's eyes melt to mercury and Simpkin's black to pure onyx.

She scoffed and gathered the blonde witch closer. "Rossman," she whispered gently to her friend.

The woman responded by snuggling deeper into her chest. Lyra laughed, and ran her tan foot along Azalea's pale calf.

She heard Draco make a choked noise in the back of his throat.

"Azalea, wake up, honey. Our boyfriends are perving on us," she cooed.

The blonde slowly came awake and pulled her head reluctantly off her friend to look at the men rudely staring at them.

"Wankers," she mumbled before letting her head fall back on to Lyra's boobs.

"I mean, in a bit, yeah," Draco admitted.

"Ohmigod, Draco! Could you not!" Lyra snipped.

At that moment both Gold and Zabini came in from an adjacent room and stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of Black and Rossman scantily clad and curled around each other like snakes.

"Ladies, my couch is your couch and you can come over anytime," Zabini remarked.

The two women groaned and wiggled away from each other to sit up, each bracing themselves against the spinning of the room as they did so.

"Up with you, Black. Breakfast," Draco directed as he approached and pulled her carefully to her feet.

Lyra felt some uneasy flips in her stomach. "Wha...breakfast?" She mumbled, resting her aching head on his shoulder.

"Yep. With my mother," he said.

"What?!" Lyra exclaimed.


Draco had hauled Lyra into the floo at Zabini's without so much as a splash of water on her dirty face. They emerged into the sitting room of Narcissa's London townhouse with Draco looking like a vintage movie star and Lyra looking like a melted rat. A drunk-ass melted rat.

Lyra was arguing with him about that fact when Narcissa came in to greet them.

"Hello, my dears!" The pretty blonde witch called to them with open arms.

Draco kissed his mother on the cheek, per their custom and Lyra pulled back from their hug to explain her disheveled appearance.

"Draco! You could have owled me to say she needed some time to change. That was naughty," Narcissa agreed. "Well, love, you can go up to Draco's room. There's a bath and I'll bring you a change of clothes.

Lyra sighed in relief. "Thank you so much."

Lyra went upstairs, washed the grime off her body in the bath and brushed her teeth. She emerged into the posh green bedroom and saw that Narcissa had left her a lovely dress to wear and a revitalizing potion for her hangover. The woman was a gift, it needed to be said.

Lyra slipped into the sundress. It had thin straps with a v-neckline and a pale green sash that laid high on her waist. It was feminine and simple. Lyra spelled her hair dry and straight and left it loose. She slipped into the nude ballet flats Narcissa had left. She was grateful for them. Her feet were still bent out of shape from her pumps the night before.

She downed the revitalizing potion and headed out the door in search of her people. She bounded into the downstairs dining room and found them whispering to each other in hushed tones by the fire.

"Ah, Lyra. You look lovely. Do you feel better?" Narcissa asked.

"I do. You are a perfect human being and I adore you. Thank you," she chirpped, kissing the blonde on the cheek.

"Of course," Narcissa replied with a sweet smile.

Lyra turned to scowl at Draco, but he pulled her into him before she even had the chance. He kissed her gently on the temple and inhaled her scent, which was his scent because she'd used all of his shower things upstairs. "You smell good enough to eat, witch."

"But let's not, though. I'm starving," Lyra retorted pouting, but not pulling out of his arms.

Narcissa stuffed Lyra with food until she was bursting and filled her in on the details of a ladies tea she was putting on next weekend and wanted Lyra to attend. Lyra accepted without hesitation, not because she gave a damn about tea, but she gave a damn about Narcissa and wanted to support her.

After breakfast, Narcissa had some finance something or other to discuss with her son, so Lyra went up to the library to relax with a tumbler of whiskey and browsed their bookshelves.

Lyra wasn't very focused on her drink or the bookshelves, however. She was thinking about Draco. She had been quiet during the week. She wasn't angry, or, she should say, she wasn't angry with Draco. Quite the contrary. He had been infinitely patient with her and loving, since he'd proposed on Monday...and since she'd been released from prison...and really since she saw him that day at the Savoy all those months ago. He was different. He was treating her unselfishly and working diligently to be there for her. It felt wonderful...and scary. She knew the right the to do, she was just too much of a coward to do it. Even still...after everything. What did that say about her?

Draco and Narcissa found her then and they spent the afternoon together reading and lounging by the fire.

Draco ran a good game, but he wasn't focused on his book or his mother's sweet but idle conversation. He was thinking about Lyra, like always. She had been withdrawn during the week, pensive. She was obsessing about something. He made no attempts to look into her mind, despite desperately wanting to on occasion. She remained as affectionate as ever, but she hadn't initiated any sex since the week prior when he'd turned her down because they were in her parent's house. He was kicking himself a bit for that now but made no effort to pressure her or put her on the spot. He'd done that enough this week, he figured.


March 2009
Nomaj Manhattan, New York
Saturday Afternoon

Draco and Lyra returned to New York. It was lunchtime for the other New Yorkers, but dinnertime for them. They ducked into one of Lyra's favorite dives in Hell's Kitchen for a bite and then went back to her flat.

She planned on trying to stay awake until eight New York time so she could get over some of the time change before work on Monday. Ugh. She knew what was coming. Hours of debrief with the legal team and endless ribbing from Patrick and the Aurors. She wasn't looking forward to that, but she was looking forward to seeing her friends.

"Sweetheart?" Draco asked.

"Hmm?" She asked, snapping back to reality.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, work mostly. About having to tell my story all over again. I'm worried that they won't let me raid for a while and I'm double worried that that will be a good call on their part because of how damn out of shape I am," she lamented.

He smiled at her and looked away into the fire.

She studied the profile of his handsome face. She could sense his apprehension and anxiety about what happened on Monday. She didn't want him to feel bad about it, but she didn't know how to talk to him about it either. Well, shit. If only there was some way you two kids could communicate full thoughts and memories to each other without having to lay it all out in words, she thought, chastising herself.

She sighed long. Don't be a coward, Black. Do it.

She reached her hand up and curled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. She smiled at him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I love you," she informed him.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "I love you too," he replied.

"Baby," she whispered.

"What?" He whispered back, a little smile playing on his lips.

"Can I read you?" She asked. It was a question she'd been avoiding since she'd woken up in St. Mungo's after he'd tried to kill her. They'd talked, they'd shared, but they never really got into everything.

"For what?" He questioned.

"For everything," she answered.

His gaze swept over her face and lingered on her mouth. He leaned in and gave her a slow kiss. "You may," he replied.

Lyra smiled and kissed him again. She stood and faced him, drawing her wand. "Are you gonna block me?" She asked.

"Do you want me to?" He replied, raising his eyebrow.

Lyra twisted her wand nervously in her hands and decided to tell him the truth. "I...I honestly don't know. I'm nervous."

Draco leaned forward. "Hey. It's alright. We've done this a thousand times," he soothed.

She nodded and leveled her wand between his eyes, bracing herself.

"Legilimens..."

His mind engulfed her and it took her breath away. Not because it was shocking, or because it was frightening, but because it was so familiar. It was like coming home. She was surrounded by the swirling currents of his memories and emotions and it felt like a warm blanket that she wanted to melt into.

She felt him pushing her. He'd made a decision just now. He wanted to show her something. She followed without hesitation back into his memories.

He showed her them as children. Playful and tenacious. He thought she was pretty and that she smelled nice, then spent a fair amount of time admonishing himself for liking an American girl with unsure blood.

Lyra understood then. She had said 'everything,' so Draco was going to show her everything. His life and her part in it. No walls, no obstacles. She was riveted.

He showed her what was basically a montage of them falling in love. How they broke each other down layer by layer, memory by memory. How he slowly, over the years, engulfed her in his net of unwavering loyalty that included only his family and one or two other friends. How he missed her when she was gone. Missed her voice, missed her reassuring presence in his head. Missed her pestering. Lived for her letters, boring things from school about Pukwudgies and wandlore. He would do anything for her, keep any secret for her. She was priceless to him and that made her so dangerous.

He showed her how his life started changing when the Dark Lord returned in earnest. How his father, once just vicious and bored, became increasingly fanatical and unpredictable in pursuit of Voldemort's favor. How he had wanted to get out so many times, but stayed for his mother. He didn't want to leave her alone.

He showed her how he changed. How he withdrew, how he became more cruel, more desperate. He showed her how hard he worked to keep her out of that part of his mind. How Severus had helped him do it. How afraid he was she would discover what was happening. How seeing her two or three times in a year was one of the only things he looked forward to. One of the only times he felt friendship. The only time he could kiss a girl and mean it. She saw his gradual realization that he was a danger to her and would likely have to crush her to keep her safe. He didn't think he could do it. Not to her.

He showed her a sweet picture of them dancing together for her birthday when she was sixteen. Him holding her in his arms, wanting to break down and tell her everything like he used to. He was exhausted from closing parts of his mind off to her and then she pulled him into hers and let him see what she wanted. She wanted him. She loved him. It filled him with equal parts joy and terror. She was too good. He was too dark. Too far gone.

She saw herself stretched out underneath him the last time they were together when they were young, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. She saw, at a distance this time, the way he did everything in reverence, like she was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen. He allowed her to feel the emotions he'd been carrying. He didn't deserve to be inside her, but he couldn't help himself. She saw herself buck against him frantically. Heard herself beg him for more. More of him. Faster. Please Draco. Stay. She felt him snap. He was done. He knew, in that moment, that he would never feel this loved, never feel this complete ever again.

He watched her sleeping that night and knew what he had to do when she left. No more letters, no more dancing. Let Severus tell her that he'd gotten himself a shallow, pureblood girlfriend that he was sure to marry and be done with it. She could rage then heal and be free. Free of him and all of the darkness he brought with him.

She saw him leave her the next morning. He kissed her. Told her with a snotty smirk that she was a bossy little git and that he'd see her in four months. It was too casual and he'd watched her furrow her brow at him in confusion. He put her in a cab to the airport, installed himself in a dingy pub in Muggle London and dropped his head into his hands. That was it. The last bridge he had to burn with the light. All he had to do now was die for a cause he didn't believe in, hopefully finding a way to get his mother out. Snape. Snape would help.

Lyra pressed against his mind so she could watch him sitting alone sadly, getting drunk and dreading the future. He was thinking that he had to get back to the Manor. The Dark Lord would be expecting him to be there for more humiliation...more orders...more things to do so he could live another day. Lyra's heart broke for him.

His memories swept forward over the war. His and his parent's trial. His house arrest. Days spent wandering around the grounds, drunk. Reliving the evil he'd seen there, reliving his many failures. Reliving the confusion on her face when he sent her away.

He stunned her by showing a memory of himself in New York, watching her out with her friends at Seven Belles in Brooklyn. She was maybe nineteen or twenty. He was letting her see how he saw her. Incandescent. Full of life. Happy. He wanted to reach out to her but he didn't want to bring her back into the darkness. Back into the dysfunction. He didn't want her have to endure his notoriety back in England or the passive aggressive judgement of his aristocratic parents. He just wanted her to be happy. And she was. So he left.

His memories then raced over his marriage to a simple pureblood girl he settled down with mostly to stop his mother from crying all the time.

He paused briefly on the memory of him holding Scorpius for the first time and Lyra felt the weight of that love in her own mind. It was pure. It had reminded him that we was yet capable of that kind of emotion. He hadn't felt it since he'd had her.

She saw his indifference towards his wife. His bored reasonableness when she told him she'd been unfaithful. He understood. He wasn't available. He couldn't give her what she needed, what she deserved. She saw his memory of Astoria's heartbroken outrage when he said he wouldn't interfere with her affair. She felt his sadness as the divorce split his family and limited his time with his son.

She saw him lonely, broken and empty. His dreams filled with the sad ghosts of his past and the occasional happy memories of his son and his mother. She saw him drunk and high, fucking his way through Europe, trying to dull his regret.

Suddenly his mind went black. There were only faint voices. His, maybe his mother. Astoria. Harry. Maybe hers?

The next thing she was him waking up on the floor of the ballroom with his head pounding, looking around disoriented until his eyes fell upon Harry scrambling to shove a bezoar down the throat of a bloody corpse...with her face.

He showed her his reaction to hearing the tapes of him nearly killing her. How he could barely breathe. Her screams were forever burned into his brain. Hearing her fight for her life in fear and desperation was the most horrible thing he had ever experienced, and he had experienced some truly horrible things.

She felt his shock and crippling anxiety when he saw her at the Savoy that day. What could he say? Sorry I almost killed you, sorry I tortured you? Sorry we were tools together in my father's sick game, I love you? He was angry. He blamed himself. She was the sunshine, he was nothing. She'd come within an inch of death to save his son, his entire world, and the last interactions he'd had with her involved him abandoning her and then trying to kill her. He had no right to look at her, let alone love her.

He expected her to reject him, to be cruel, mostly because it's what he would have done in her place. Not Lyra. She gifted him with her kindness just as she had always done. She was ruffled and unsure of herself, but she was unbroken. Still perfect, still better than he would ever be and far better than he deserved.

She skated through the rekindling of their romance and felt the love, adoration and feelings of unworthiness roll around in his mind as he tried to balance being with her with aching to throw himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness.

She sneaked a peak at a bit of his testimony against his father. It was fierce, honest and unafraid. She hadn't seen it because she'd been in a holding cell in the bowels of the Ministry. She was immeasurably proud of him.

He showed her herself when he first saw her after her release. How could he have let this happen to his witch? He had failed to protect her in nearly every way. Be prepared for her to ask you to leave, Draco, he'd told himself. Whatever she asks of you, you will do. Deserve her.

Lyra pulled out of his mind suddenly and started sobbing.

She shed a decade of tears in an hour, caged safely in his arms. He held her tightly murmuring soft apologies and declarations of love into her hair.

After she quieted herself, she pulled out of his arms and looked at him very seriously. Her hair was curling from her sweat, her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were the clearest pale gold he'd seen since they were young and free from the terrible burden of their experiences. Draco thought she looked beautiful. Beautiful and real.

"I'm so sorry about Monday," she said gently.

He shook his head. "No. I should have never..."

"Yes," She said.

He paused, confused. "Yes, what, Sweetheart?"

"Yes, I want to marry you," she said, looking down.

Draco froze. After a moment, he gently took her chin in his hand to get her to look at him. "What?"

She smiled and her chin quivered a bit. "You should marry me. Soon too, before someone else snaps me up. I am quite the looker, you know," she said, parroting his own words back to him.

"Is that really what you want?" He questioned, his heart beating erratically.

Lyra nodded and fell back into his arms.


Author's Note -

So I wanted the engagement to happen last chapter, but I didn't want it to happen before Lyra got inside Draco's head and it just didn't flow the way I wanted it to. I decided a misfire on the proposal would be a good catalyst to get Lyra to read him. She'd been avoiding it for a long time because she was afraid it would mess her up...and it did, but not really in the way she expected. So now our kids are getting married. More mushy-gushies and lemons to follow. Yayyyy! -MM