𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎

damsel in distress

TW: MENTIONS OF PEDOPHILIA & ASSAULT

Lyra's next encounter with the Marauders was on the first Hogsmeade weekend visit of the school year.

It was a dark and cloudy afternoon in November. The sky was a swirling mass of stormy gray, thundering every few minutes; the little thatched cottages and shops were all pelted by vicious droplets of rain. Despite their rich fur overcoats and thick velvet robes, both Lyra and Narcissa were freezing to death. Thankfully, due to the Lestrange girl's quick thinking to use the Impervius Charm, they weren't soaked to the bone.

As the Malfoy woman chattered away about Bellatrix's long list of excuses as to why she had bailed on their plans, the brunette's mind was elsewhere. Particularly, Severus' comment at the start of the year.

Since that moment, she had become hyper-aware of Sirius stare at all times. More often than not, the weight of his grey irises fell heavy on her skin and caused her stomach to do an odd sort of twist. It was a weird feeling; she couldn't quite discern how his sudden attention made her feel, yet she wasn't sure she should.

After all, she was engaged to Regulus — his brother.

Despite being in two separate year groups, the pair were closer than ever. Whether it was breakfast or dinner, or sometimes even in between classes, wherever Lyra was, you could bet that the younger Black boy was right by her side.

Of course, she didn't mind his company; he had proved to be good to talk to, and someone she would consider her closest friend. Although friendship wasn't what was in store for them (at least in Walburga's opinion, anyway) anything even remotely romantic was shied away from by both parties; Amycus' crude jokes make them cringe, and any physical contact beyond a hug was highly unfavourable.

After days of probing, Regulus had nervously admitted his hate for shopping. As per his parent's orders, he was careful to not offend Lyra in the slightest, yet the more he got to know her the more he felt comfortable, and as expected, her view of him hadn't changed in the slightest. After all, why would it? She was more than happy for it to be just her and Narcissa, but only after he had sneaked some spending money into her handbag.

Their first stop had been Ceridwen's Cauldrons so that Lyra could buy the single item their store offered: a cauldron.

This was then followed by a quick visit to the hairdressing salon across from Honeydukes, which offered a vast supply of elixirs and beauty potions. Narcissa wrinkled her nose in distaste once Lyra informed her that Sleekeazy's Hair Potion was invented by none other than Fleamont Potter — James Potter's dad — but she bought Bellatrix a few beakers for Christmas nevertheless.

They stopped at McHavelock's Wizarding Headgear to buy an emerald green fur Ushanka, before finally heading to Gladrags Wizardwear for Lyra's appointment.

Whilst the clothing store usually wasn't a pure-blood's first choice, it was the only one in Hogsmeade, and Druella had insisted that the Lestrange girl start looking for wedding wear as soon as possible.

''We aren't to be married until I finish my seventh year,'' Lyra sighed as the seamstress' wand poked and prodded at her bare waist. ''Why the rush?''

''My mother's and aunt's orders,'' Narcissa shrugged, crossing one leg over the other. ''How are things with Regulus, anyway?''

''How they are meant to be, I suppose. But then again, I'm not exactly sure how they are meant to be.''

''Well, what about love? Do you love him yet?''

Lyra laughed lightly. ''I have to learn first, do I not? It takes time, I expect — but he's very good to me. A good friend, I'd say.''

''That is a good start,'' the blonde shrugged. ''I am almost certain sooner or later you will feel your emotions to get stronger. With the amount of time you two spend together, it is bound to happen. Especially once you move in together, and start to share a bed. Not to mention the wedding night . . . ''

The pure-blood nodded obediently as Narcissa spoke, half-listening. It was true; her and Regulus were practically attached at the hip. However, her feelings towards him never tipped over the platonic line. Oddly enough, it was the complete opposite with his brother. The two hadn't had so much as a conversation since the summer, yet she felt this unexplainable pull towards him, her mind occupied with thoughts of him dusk until dawn.

As the fitting dragged on, so did Lyra's agitation. She soon become unresponsive to any conversation, and no matter how interesting gossiping with Narcissa was, she was frustrated after being on her feet for hours on end.

''Oh, I forgot I promised I would get Lucius some new quills from Scrivenshaft's,'' the Malfoy woman remembered. ''You'll be alright here on your own for a bit?''

Lyra nodded before Narcissa hurried off. As the seamstress went to go fetch a box of imported French fabric from the attic, the bell over the entrance to the store trilled terrifyingly. Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop was on the other side of Hosgmeade, so it couldn't have been Narcissa back so early.

No, it was only Abraxas Malfoy.

He waltzed into the shop like he owned the place — truth be told, the possibility wasn't far-fetched — with an air of arrogance that radiated off of him tremendously. He looked no different than he last did at Lyra and Regulus' engagement party; it was as if he was constantly seeking out somebody, for better or for worse, but who?

Lyra would soon find it was her he was searching for.

The brunette continued to watch him survey the store in the reflection of the grand mirror before her. A few minutes that felt like forever passed before he finally saw her figure, staring back at him curiously.

His thin lips twisted into a warped smirk, and she was suddenly hyper-aware of the wand gripped in his wrinkly fists as if it was his sword and he was preparing for some sort of battle.

''Sir,'' she managed to choke out at last. ''If it's Narcissa you're looking for, then I'm afraid you've just missed her.''

''I have no business with my daughter-in-law,'' he denied. ''It is you I have been looking for, Lyra Selene.''

The pure-blood witch glanced at Abraxas; he was inching closer and closer to her by the second, but something in her soul was willing her to refuse any manners or customs and keep her back turned on him.

He didn't take kindly to her lack of greeting. The older man extended one of his frail fingers and trailed it over her bare shoulder, where the slightly too big dress robes had began to fall and reveal her pale skin.

It felt as if time had stopped the second they made contact. She stayed as still as a statue, beyond confused as to what his intentions were, and why he thought it was appropriate to put his hands on her. Not only was she betrothed to another, but he had a son who was much older than herself.

''I believe this is far overdue,'' he continued. ''Your brothers have proved to be difficult, denying me any access to their little sister . . . but Rodolphus and Rabastan are nowhere to be seen now, are they?''

That was a fact she couldn't deny. She was all alone in the store, save for the seamstress, who Lyra would learn wasn't in the attic; in fact, she had already been intercepted by Abraxas and hit with a Petrificus Totalus.

It was as plain as day he wanted something from her. What that thing was, she didn't know, but every inch of her being was screaming that it wasn't safe for her. That she had to get out of there somehow, no matter what it took.

Lyra drew in a deep breath, willing for her nerves to stop spiralling for just a second. ''What is this access that you speak of?''

Upon hearing the quiver in his voice, he bared his teeth at her, grinning like a Cheshire cat. ''The access that rightfully belongs to me,'' he began. ''If only young Regulus Black hadn't gotten to you first . . . still, I believe now is your chance to make things right.''

Abraxas snapped the strap of her undergarments against her back; she couldn't help but wince, twisting her body as far away from the man as possible on instinct. Before she could get away any further, the bell over the store's entry rang once again, symbolising the arrival of somebody else.

Unless she had brought someone with her, it couldn't have been Narcissa, for there were multiple footsteps echoing off of the polished black-and-white checkered tiles.

The Malfoy man wasted no time in shoving Lyra up against the wall, out of sight from whoever had just entered. He rested his body weight on to hers, effectively crushing her figure as she struggled under him.

''The more you move, the worse this'll hurt,'' he whispered, his disgustingly hot breath fanning over her face. ''Keep quiet like a woman should — that is how our women are raised, is it not?''

Whether it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins, or the fact that she was sick of being seen as an obedient and fragile female, Lyra didn't know. What she did know, however, is that she squeezed her eyes shut, and before she began to kick and thrash, the burden was unloaded off of her and she finally felt like she could breath again.

Slowly, the Lestrange girl opened her brown eyes. She was now slumped against the wall, only a few inches away from where Abraxas lay, a bruise blooming over his left eye. There was also a bloody gash marring his forehead, crimson seeping into his platinum-blonde wisps of hair.

Over him stood Sirius Black, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he heaved a few deep breaths. Beside him was James Potter, his horn-rimmed glasses askew and a repulsed expression on his face. Remus Lupin's face matched his shorter friends, but Peter Pettigrew's manner was one of indifference as he chomped on a Sugar Quill.

For a moment, no one dared to speak. The silence in the air was pregnant, finally disturbed after some seconds by the tallest of the Marauders clearing his throat.

''Are you alright, Lyra?''

She stared at him blankly for a few seconds. Whilst she never had any problems with Remus (apart from the fact that he was a Marauder and a half-blood), she found herself struggling to answer his question. It definitely seemed rude of her, gawking at the four boys despite them having just saved her, but how could one decide whether they were fine after a interaction like that?

''I'm not sure,'' she finally settled, her voice small and tone embarrassed. After all, they had caught her at a peak moment of weakness.

''He'll get what he deserves,'' spoke the mellowing voice of Sirius. She found the remainder of the bundle of anxiety in her stomach dissipate as they locked eyes, whilst James nodded furiously at his best friend's words.

''What about Walburga and Orion? And my brothers?''

''What about them?'' James asked, running his hands through his unruly curls. ''Surely they ought to know so that this can be dealt with properly.''

Peter observed the interaction between his friends and the pure-blood witch. It was the first time he had witness them have a civil conversations. For once, there were no insults or curses being thrown around, although there was more likely soon to come in the future.

''I won't tell them if you don't want me to,'' Sirius promised. ''We both know what they can be like.''

Lyra nodded her head in agreement. She was unsure if they would start a public riot over Abraxas' behaviour, kill him, or simply sweep the matter under the rug and never speak of it again.

''It's fine, they don't need to know,'' she sighed, before biting her lip and placing her pride and prejudice aside. ''Thank you, though. All of you.''

They all mumbled — except for Peter — variations of ❛you're welcome❜, ❛don't worry about it❜, and ❛no need to thank me❜. Afterwards another silence befell the group, although this time it was more thoughtful as opposed to awkward.

This time, it was Sirius who broke the tranquil state. It looked like there was a storm brewing in his eyes, both dangerous yet intriguing.

''Lyra,'' he rasped. ''Tell Regulus — only if you want. Deep down, he's not like the rest. And we won't tell anyone, so I'll deal with Abraxas myself. I promise.''