It was at 2:00 am exactly that Lyra placed her wand on her aunt's cherry wood nightstand and turned, never to look back. It took kilometers of walking before Lyra could reach the edge of a muggle village. At that point, her feet had sores and her legs were like jelly. The sun was just peaking over the horizon and dairy farmers were preparing their profits for the day. Lyra, with her black witches' robes, looked out of place. She had never been so close in proximity to a muggle before, never mind talk to one. But at that point, Lyra's urine had taken a dark brown color and she needed, at the least, a glass of water. She unhooked the silver clasp on her cloak and left it on the side of the road with her heavy jacket, leaving her in a ruffled white blouse half tucked into a black skirt. What was once crisp and clean was now spotted with mud.

With legs so sore, she forced her way over the stone wall, and over to the man. He took one look at her and called for his wife in the back who was bottling milk. Neither of them knew what to make of the ragged girl, but his wife gave her a glass of water. "Are you lost, lil' one?" the short, but stocky woman asked. She spoke in what Lyra's uncle would consider an uneducated dialect.

But had she been lost? Or was she right where she needed be? Lyra hadn't known. Instead, she asked, "how do I get to the city?"

The couple shared an uneasy look, before the husband said, "yer quite far from home. What city?" Lyra wanted to go to London and there was no way a young girl like herself was to walk to London. "We got a phone just inside, yeah?" He thumbed back at their small cottage made of stone, decorated with dead vines.

Her eyes narrowed, "p-phone?"

The man nodded, making a phone symbol with his fingers and placing it to his ears, "yes, love, a phone? Do you know who to call?"

Lyra hummed, and then her eyes widened in realization, "oh! Yes, telephone? Yes? Ring, ring?" To Lyra, the two muggles were the strange ones. Strange, uneducated, foolish, inept, and clumsy. Unfortunately for Lyra, she was no longer the one with the upper hand. The muggle man sensed there was something seriously wrong with Lyra, and that perhaps the young girl was in trouble.

He motioned to the cottage that was barely the size of Lyra's playhouse growing up, "why don't you come inside? Hm?"

Inside there was a pot boiling on the stove and it smelt like a stew. Lyra had never gone into the Malfoy kitchens except to ask for a glass of water. But a witches kitchen looked very different compared to a muggle kitchen. She almost found herself confused as to why the woman was breaking her wrist stirring the thick gunk. Everything was controlled by one woman with two hands, no magic. She rushed from the pot to the counter to chop up greenery, washing dishes in between. Lyra looked around, almost charmed by how simple these people lived.

"Who do you know in London?" the gentleman asked, taking off his cap and hanging it on the hook. He went to sneak a taste of the stew, but his lady whacked the spoon from his hands.

"It's stewing for supper," she warned, "I made porridge, here." She placed down six bowls and a smaller pot in the middle. Breakfast looked a lot different. Her aunt never wore such a warm smile looking at her uncle. This woman really cared for her man, affectionately helping him sit. "Take a seat, love, I'll get the little ones." She called up the stares and two children came barreling down the steps, already bickering like siblings do.

Her and Draco hardly bickered, Lyra being a few years his senior. Draco was forced to hold a sense of respect for her, but in return, Lyra took care of him. But these two, they were about twelve and ten, tugging at each other's arms, fighting for this object with buttons. Lyra leaned over, "what is that?" she pointed, when the boy took a seat next to her.

As if he was used to Lyra's seat always holding someone unfamiliar, he answered unfazed, "it's a Game Boy! Nan bought it for us last Christmas, don't you have one? Everyone has one. You pop a game in here…ah, shoot!" The screen flashed an error message, and he took out the plastic piece, and blew into it rather aggressively.

"You broke it, you tool!" the girl snapped, "Mammy! Johnny broke the Game Boy again."

"No!"

"Well, if that is how it is going to be," the woman sighed, plucking it from the boy's hand, "neither of you can have it until you bring in the eggs." She hid it up in one of China cabinets, and looked over to Lyra, "where in London?"

"I'm sorry?" Lyra asked, pulling away from her porridge.

"London? You were hoping to go to London?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry," she nodded, "um, just London, honestly."

"Do you know someone in London?" the man asked.

"No," she said, "truthfully I was just hoping to get to a train station of some sort." They had continued to ask a series of questions despite had already making up their mind. Lyra had not known where she was going. Either a runaway or lost girl, she knew nothing. Lucky for her, though, it was summer, and the days were longer.

The couple were used to travelers stopping on their property between destinations. So much so their guest bedroom was always set up. "Well, why don't you fill up and hop on into the bath? Hm? A nap would do you some good and we can go from there."

The gentleman was James, and the woman was Mary, typical muggle names. Boring, Lyra had thought, her judgement still there. Muggles her mother would have killed just cause. But here they were being warm to her, giving her a bed to rest her head. Lyra hadn't understood what to think of them. She couldn't, by good faith, think ill of them. Unlike her mother, deep in her chest, she held a conscious and ability to recognize empathy. These people hardly knew Lyra, but yet they gave her an extraordinary amount of empathy.

Mary smiled, "and tomorrow, perhaps, we can help you find your way to London. Yes?"

~L.L~

Back at the Malfoy manor, Narcissa was in shambles. She had run from the top floors to the dungeon many times until she finally gripped Lucius by his robes, "Lucius, you must go to the ministry and tell them our niece is missing!" Lucius, her husband of many years, had never seen his wife so distraught. Her perfectly clipped hair was now hanging in rollers, matted. She hadn't even cared to put rouge on her cheeks or lips.

Lucius brushed her off. The girl was hardly missing by accident. Instead, it was a deliberate spit in the face to the family who raised her and raised her well with everything and anything her heart desired. Narcissa was in denial because why would the niece she loved and doited on even dare do such a thing? No, it had to be a mistake! Perhaps the girl needed something from the master bed chamber and simply left her wand? Yes, and now she floo'd to Marcus's home or the shoppes.

But Lyra was hardly forgetful.

"Why are you not panicked?" she asked her husband, urgency in her voice as he got ready for another workday. With the start of school year nearing, he had many preparations and meetings. And with the Lestrange girl missing, it was just another thing.

He sighed and looked down at his wife, "we'll find her, love." The smile on his face was sickly fake. Of course, he cared to find the girl. There was price above her head after all. With such an uneven ratio of male to female purebloods, Lyra was in demand and the many suitors had already given offers.

With this knowledge, Lucius knew the girl was not missing. She ran. The footprints in the mud leading to the woods could tell you that. He had gone out there when Narcissa was turning her bedroom upside down. To his concern, the girl was a blood traitor. A little whore who had not gotten her way with the boy she wanted. And now, his wife was to blame him. You were too hard on her, Lucius! Or What was so bad about that boy?

His niece will be found. And when she is brought back to the manor, he will make sure that not another such thought enters her head. The one wish his brother-in-law had was to make sure Lyra stayed happy and safe. That she would grow up to be a good girl doing the Lord's work. A specific request for Lucius. Lyra's insolent actions were a direct piss on Lucius, and he would be damned if the Dark Lord blamed him for that little slut's actions.

"Dear, the ministry can put out notices!"

"Narcissa," he snipped slightly, "that is hardly needed. She will return. When she gets cold and hungry, she will come home."

"How? She hasn't her wand!"

"She didn't want her wand," he said, rather calmly, organizing his briefcase. "She knew exactly what she was doing, Cissy. She will regret it soon enough."

As predicted, Narcissa said, "you were too hard on her! Having her stand before those men like that. When he returns, and my sister is free, she will- "

"She will thank me for setting your niece up with a wealthy man who can provide for her!"

"Naked!" she snapped, "you made her stand naked in front of him- "

"And would you have bought a dress robe without feeling the fabric?" he asked, "hm? She was with the Flint boy for quite sometime and then that blood traitor. Yaxley was simply seeing if the young girl was intact."

"And Yaxley would be on his third wife. How intact is he?"

A man does not need to be intact for marriage. A man does not need to worry with whom he sleeps with, only who he marries. A respectable pule blooded woman on the other hand must worry about whom she even dares to look at. This marriage was to get Lucius the cottage on the French countryside and then some, but now, there was no product. "My love, if only you were a man, then you would understand."

"And only if you were a woman," she glared, "you would understand."

Both Draco and Lyra had received their school letters. Draco had just turned 13, and Lyra was nearing 18. A brilliant girl wanting nothing, but to be a midwife. Many would say a midwife was a wonderful job for a woman, but Lucius viewed it as a disgrace.

She was only to be missing for a few days. Narcissa kept telling herself that it was just a silly thing. Lyra would certainly be home for the start of her last year, but the beginning of the school year came, and Lyra was not home. Days came and left, and Lyra was no longer the missing girl, but a traitor. Lucius refused to allow Narcissa to think anything differently. The girl dug her grave, and now, she must rest in it.