Shades of Silver and Black

LUCIUS SPENT THEIR LAST FEW DAYS IN PERU grovelling at Lyra’s feet and composing apologies like they were sonnets. After Narcissa’s ill-fated fire-call which had only served to fuel the embers of Lyra’s ire, an oblivious Lucius had ambled into the room in cheers of an important discovery he had helped make in an excavation site, which led him to be interviewed by the most prestigious historical journal in the world. But one look at his fiancée’s tilted head, tainted smile and flat eyes had led Lucius’ brain to stop functioning and reboot itself.

“What did I do?” He asked, horror lacing his tone.

Lyra arched an unimpressed brow and continued to practise suturing on meat.

A chill gripped Lucius at her silence. One of his father’s words of wisdom had been to stay silent when you were mad, simply because people don’t expect it. They expect words, motion, defence, offence, back and forth; leaps into the fray and a war of words. They are ready, fists up, words hanging leaping from their mouths. Silence? No.

“Is it because I interrupted you when you were telling me about your day?” Lucius asked, gaining a hysterical edge to his tone as his mind whirled for reasons to grasp. When Lucius didn’t receive a response, he probed further. “Is it because you had to visit the Ministry to get our documents for Malaysia? I know you told me to do it and I forgot, but you must understand, love, that just earlier that day, there was this—“ Lucius’ mouth shut with an audible clank.

When he opened his mouth, no sound came out. He looked back at Lyra, who had waved a hand in his direction to silence him, and pouted. He was rewarded with a scorching glare for his efforts. And because Lucius valued his life—his life with Lyra—he didn’t push further.

That day, that is.

“Are you mad at me because I stepped on one of your snakes?” Lucius asked her over breakfast the next day. “In my defence, I thought it was a scarf the first time.” He paused, his eyes widening as he rushed to say, “Not that I would step on your scarf or anything, or that I would step on your snakes more than once—if they told you I did, they are lying. In fact, I didn’t even see your snake until I stepped on it. And why even would it be right in front of the front door? Not that I’m blaming your snake. Your snake is very nice, please don’t ask it to bite me.”

Lyra gave him a deadpanning stare, and Lucius translated that as asking for a change in the topic rather than you’re digging your grave, stop talking.

“If it’s about that time I switched your toothpaste for my hair gel, it was a prank, Lyra. I was trying to please my future in-laws. How was I supposed to know you would use it while babysitting one of your friend’s sons? I’m not a seer, and besides, did you think I liked using my hair gel for non-hair purposes? Of course not, but I have to have the approval of your brothers.”

“Love?”

His shoulders slumped with relief that she was talking with him again. “Yes, life?”

“You’re adorable,” Lyra stated like it was a fact. “But if you continue talking, I’m going to very gently tap a knife directly into your vital organs.”

“If you kill me you reap no benefit, love.”

“I reap tons of benefits. The contract of our engagement stated so. You should have read the fine print, sweetheart. I get all your money and your titles.”

“You’re already richer than me, so I thought you were marrying me for my good looks.”

“Good looks?” Lyra repeated, and Lucius narrowed his gaze on her.

“That’s cold,” he commented, to which Lyra shrugged. After a beat, he glanced at her with hopeful eyes. “Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Lyra released a sigh and delivered the one line that parents periodically used to make their children’s stomachs clench with guilt. “I’m not mad, Lucius. I’m disappointed.”

It worked like a charm, and Lucius’ heart withered like autumn flowers. His mind focused on reasons why she felt this way when it suddenly clicked like a puzzle piece.

“I’m sorry I wrote that letter to Narcissa,” Lucius blurted out, almost pleadingly. “I…that was incredibly wrong of me, to go behind your back like that to do so. I had only assumed—“ Lyra tilted her head, so Lucius hurried to add, “Actually, it doesn’t matter what I had assumed, it was incorrect. I was wrong. I’m sorry. Please stop being mad at me.”

Lyra looked at him with the most heart-broken expression that Lucius wished to dive into the Pacific Ocean tied to an anchor to escape being on the receiving end of it. “I’m not upset with you for that,” she whispered, her grey eyes huge and sad. “You have no idea why I’m upset, do you?”

“Of course I do,” said Lucius instantly. “But perhaps you could voice it aloud, if only so that it would confirm that we’re on the same page?”

“That’s just an excuse,” commented Lyra, her tone coloured with disappointment. “You have no clue, and you just want me to spell it out for you. I can’t believe you forgot about our special day today.”

Lucius stilled like he had been hit with a freezing charm, his eyes widening. “Special day?” He repeated, his voice pitchy despite his best efforts to keep it steady.

Lyra sighed and stood up from the sofa. “See? You just don’t remember the most special day that I’ve been looking forward to for weeks. That is what has upset me. Not your letter to Narcissa,” she explained, before spinning on her heel and stalking away, the door shutting behind her.

What she said was, actually, a lie.

Lyra was upset and furious at him for writing a letter to her cousin behind her back when he knew they weren’t exactly close at the moment. There might be nothing special or significant about today, but there was something special about watching the colour leave Lucius’ face as panic took over.

Twenty minutes later, Lucius paced around in his room while Theodore and Dennis watched on from the fireplace. “—me if I remembered what tomorrow was, and I don’t remember what tomorrow is! What should I do?”

“Prepare your funeral arrangements,” Dennis helpfully advised.

Lucius halted his steps to flash him a glare. “I did that the moment I met Lyra’s father, but that’s not important. I called you both here because I need to know what special day tomorrow is. Is it Valentine's day? Some sort of lesser holiday of love?”

Theodore paled. “Oh Merlin, I hope not. Cassie’ll kill me if it is. We should have a joint funeral, in that case, Lucius.”

Lucius scoffed. “No, get your own funeral arrangements. I’m not allowing my death to be upstaged by yours.”

“Would it really matter if you’re dead?”

“Of course. How dare you even ask me such a thing?”

“My apologies, your hairgelliness.”

“Don’t call me that!” Lucius snapped. “Or I’ll kill you before Cassie does.”

“It seems to me that Lyra would kill you first,” said Theodore, matter-of-factly.

“Hey, hey, hey. I can’t guarantee tomorrow, but nobody is killing nobody today,” interjected Dennis. “I checked, there’s no holiday tomorrow. Whatever the special day is, it’s specific to your relationship, Lucius.”

“Well, that narrows it down to the scores of significant moments Lyra and I shared, most of the dates of which I don’t recall, might I add.”

“Aren’t you studying history?” Theodore wondered aloud. “Aren’t dates vital to history?”

“Oh, shut up,” said Lucius, very smartly. “Tell me what I’m overlooking,” he whined, pouting and crossing his arms.

Theodore chuckled. “Alright, no need to sulk.”

“I don’t sulk, I—“

“Brood, I know,” said Theodore, rolling his eyes. “How about this: Dennis and I will list out milestones and important moments everyone goes through in a relationship, and you tell us which it is.”

“I told you, I don’t remember the exact days,” Lucius said, panic intertwined in his features. “The only dates I recall are the ones where I first met Lyra, and our first kiss, and when we got together.”

Theodore looked at him sympathetically. “That’s not enough, mate. You need to jog your memory. Your life may as well depend on this.”

“Might I remind you that your lovely lady is from the same family that invented a spell that makes your skin shed like that off a snake’s?” Dennis added absently, relishing as Lucius’ shoulders shook. “And that family also literally invented the word mudblood? And I’m pretty sure Lyra’s used the unforgivables at least once by now, not to mention, she absolutely destroyed—“

“Thank you, Dennis, for those wonderful words,” Lucius gritted out.

“You are very welcome, Lucius.”

“The list,” Lucius prompted, ignoring the beaming response he received from Dennis.

“Alright. Is it the first time you met her?” Theodore asked.

Lucius shook his head. “I met her about a month and a half or so before tomorrow.”

“First kiss?”

“On Yule.”

“First date?”

“Two days after Yule.”

“First time you fell in love?”

“The second I met her.”

“Okay, Auror Lovey-Dovey,” Dennis said, rolling his eyes. “First time you hugged?”

“I…I don’t remember.”

“First handshake?”

“I think after we became Prefects?”

“First time she cursed you?”

“Stop making me feel bad about myself.”

“You don’t need my help to do that,” said Dennis and before Lucius could argue, Theodore cut in.

“Whether you remember the occasion or not isn’t as important as whether or not you give her flowers,” said Theodore, and winced as if he recollected a memory surrounding it. “Trust me. Give her flowers. Pretty ones, based on the colour you view her. I gave Cassie bluebells once because they symbolise everlasting love but she thought that it was because I viewed her as a source of sadness as she associates the colour with sorrow, and well. Learn from my mistakes.”

“Yellow, maybe?” Lucius mused aloud. “Yellow is supposed to be happy, isn’t it? What flowers are there with the colour yellow?”

“Sunflowers? Buttercups?” Dennis listed.

“Buttercups sound incredible. They look lovely as well,” Theodore chimed.

Lucius nodded his head. “Alright then. Anything else I should do? Perhaps organise a little outing?”

“Cassie loves picnics,” said Theodore. “Does Lyra like them as well?”

“She adores star-gazing,” answered Lucius, before he realised that now, stars would likely upset her further given her situation with her family. “But I want it to be something special. Something which shows that I’ve been planning for this day for months and months instead of, well.”

“Having no idea what it is?” Dennis finished for him knowingly.

Lucius grimaced but nodded his head. “Yes, that. Lyra should never know. We’re moving to Malaysia tomorrow, and I’d like to live to see the sunrise in that country. I heard it’s beautiful.”

“Much like your funeral will be considering you still can’t figure it out,” intoned Dennis, snickering.

Lucius wished he could hex Dennis through the floo.

The next morning, the cottage was filled with boxes of items for the house-elves to transport and set up. Lucius was barking orders at them when he noticed the stillness of Lyra’s figure. He approached her carefully like she was an animal he didn’t want to scare away due to his movements.

She was staring at a portrait of her family that she had brought with her. It was a replica of the one hung on the walls of the Planetarium, created from the portrait painting session they had last year. Everyone was there, smiling. It was frightening how things could change so much in such little time.

“It’s going to be okay,” Lucius told her softly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, his gaze flicking between the picture and Lyra’s visage. “It doesn’t seem like it now, but all our troubles are going to pass and things will be okay. I’ll be with you every step of the way like this annoying shadow. Once they’ve stepped over their pride and realised their errors, if you’d still like to, you can mend things with them.”

“But to mend something is to accept that it's broken,” said Lyra, fixated on the picture, her fingers hovering over the faces of her family like she was reluctant to touch them.

Eventually, she set the framed picture back in the box and told Lucius, “I’ll go around and check if we’ve left anything.”

“Okay,” said Lucius, not voicing how house-elves could have done the same. He planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll wait for you at the front in ten minutes?”

“Fifteen,” bargained Lyra, offering him a quick hug before wandering the cottage where she had lived the past three months.

It was then she discovered many pathways and many rooms she hadn’t stumbled into, hallways that were hidden from her. She pushed the door to a room and found nothing in it but a chandelier and a cupboard. Bored at the lack of intrigue in the room, she was about to exit when Sirius jumped out from the cupboard, starling Lyra.

“Sirius what—“

“Do you really think we like you?” Sirius taunted, lips twisted to form something ugly. “How can someone who claims to be so smart delude themselves with a belief so foolish, I wonder.”

Lyra froze. “I’m sorry?”

Sirius’ features transformed to look softer while his height lessened. Regulus. “We’re only pretending,” her youngest brother spoke coolly. “You of all people know how easy it is to pretend.”

Lyra felt breathless. Her body was paralysed, feet rooted to the spot.

Regulus’ eyes gained a hazel hue. His hair became unruly and a pair of glasses appeared on the bridge of his nose as his features changed. “You know none of us loves you as well,” James stated with faux sympathy. “You’re just too afraid to accept the universally acknowledged fact that you are unlovable.”

“And honestly, can you blame us?” Lucius’ drawing, apathetic tone pierced through the air like a dagger. Lyra stared at the casual stance he stood with, his hair neatly gelled back as always. “I mean… you’re you. You’re Lyra. People only stay as long as you fool them into believing that you’re someone else, as long as you behave the way they think you should. If you don’t…they’ll leave.”

“Just ask Andromeda to confirm the truth you’re too scared to hear.” Lyra stared at the mirror self of hers.

Except, her reflection looked detached with her arms crossed over her chest and a cold ring in her tone. The most prominent distinction between Lyra and the clone standing in front of her was the wavy black hair and how the dark mark had been proudly branded on the latter’s left forearm.

Her clone smiled cruelly. “If you’re too cowardly to ask Andromeda, go ask anyone or both of your parents or grandparents or cousins or siblings or family members or friends or colleagues or literally, anyone who has ever had the displeasure of meeting your acquaintance. They all have one thing in common. They met you, they hated you, they pretended to like you and you were naive enough to believe them. Tell me,” she taunted in a low voice, tilting her head as her dimples deepened. “Were you genuinely surprised when they left you? I mean, it was only a matter of time. I bet you were counting each precious second before they did.” Her clone hummed, releasing a false sigh. “I wonder who’s going to leave you next?” Her eyes lit up like she had been enlightened with a brilliant idea. Her clone clapped her hands together cheerfully. “You know what? You should pull a reverse on them. Do what they won’t expect you to do— leave them. Leave them all before they leave you.”

“Stop talking,” Lyra said, her tone slightly shaking despite her best efforts to keep it steady and stern.

But her clone ignored her, fondly rolling her eyes. “Oh, come on. They’re going to hurt you. Sooner or later, they will, you know that. So why don’t you leave? See if you can hurt them. See if they care enough to be hurt. I bet my parselmouth ability they won’t, but it’s good to be optimistic, wouldn’t you agree, Lyra?”

Lyra smiled and took out her wand. “Riddikulus,” she said, and her clone’s static eyes were locked on hers until the boggart retreated to the cupboard.

Lingering under the archway, she took a minute to compose herself, to shove this incident in the back corner of her mind. The forms of her boggart had changed since she had been a third-year. Back then, she had seen her family dead. Now, she was seeing herself abandoned. It was fascinating how her fears had shifted, how close they were to becoming a reality. It was just another weakness she had to conceal later.

When she returned, Lucius was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. When he spotted her approaching, his eyes lit up like fireflies. “Did we miss anything?”

“If we did, we can buy them,” Lyra replied.

A smile flickered across his lips. “Ready?”

She grasped his out-reaching hand. “Ready.”

They used a portkey to reach their house in Malaysia—a large manor in a quaint town. The moonlight kissed the estate, which sprawled across a rolling green land, and was dressed in roses, ivy and wisteria with balconies and staircases sprouting from its white strides.

Lucius insisted that they visit the patio a little far from the Manor first, where Lyra found a surprise waiting for her there. It was a candle-lit table, decked with delicacies and surrounded by charmed blue flames to supply light.

“What’s this?” said Lyra, eyes soft and smile stretching, revealing the dimples Lucius adored seeing.

“Oh, you didn’t think I would forget about this very special day, did you?” Lucius pulled out a chair for her to sit, before seating himself across her. “I mean, what kind of boyfriend—“

“Fiancé.”

“—Fiancé would I be if I didn’t remember that today is the forty-ninth day after we met? Especially considering forty-nine is a very lucky number arithmetically? Happy forty-ninth day anniversary, life.”

“You too, love,” said Lyra, willing herself to forgive him for writing that letter to her cousin due to the efforts he took in making this possible. While she was touring the cottage for one last time, he must have set this up.

It would have been perfect if Lucius had stopped there. The table was stocked with Lyra’s favourite foods, and she was clearly pleased with him. However, Lady Fortuna seemed to believe Lucius was too lucky that day, so Lucius committed the grave error: he gave Lyra a bunch of buttercups he had bought.

Unfortunately for Lucius, all those times he hadn’t paid attention when his mother ranted about the language of flowers came to curse him. But Lyra knew enough.

“You know, love,” began Lyra; fixated on the bouquet of buttercups she held and her lazy tone ringing alarm bells inside Lucius’ head. “If you think I’m behaving childishly, unfaithfully or even ingratitude, you could have just told it to my face. You needn’t have bought flowers to convey your thoughts now, much as I had three years ago.” She finally lifted her head to connect their eyes.

Lucius gulped.

Mercifully, Lucius survived to see the sunrise in Malaysia. Indeed, it was beautiful. Not as beautiful as Lyra, of course. After an awkward breakfast and morning spent setting things up at the Malaysian Ministry of Magic, Lucius found himself in front of the fireplace in his room, brows furrowed in anger. He fire-called Dennis and waited until the boy was visible before ranting, “I cannot believe you and Theo convinced me to give Lyra butter—Dennis, what’s wrong?”

Dennis’ neat hair was devilish as he rushed towards the floo. “Theo called a second before you did. Something happened to Cassie. He’s terrified.”

Lucius sobered. “Where is she now?”

“St. Mungo’s.”

“Lyra and I will be there in a bit.”

And so, their first day in Malaysia saw them returning to Britain, where the sun was peeking out of the sky. Theodore sat with his face shielded by his hands in an abandoned waiting room. Dennis was beside him, patting his back, expression sombre.

“Oh Merlin, Theo,” said Lucius as he occupied the other chair beside his friend. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your apology to say,” snarled Theodore, lifting his head and revealing red-rimmed eyes.

Lucius’ eyes softened. “I know. How long has…”

“Three hours, almost,” replied Dennis delicately.

Lyra strolled into the space, lips pursed and features gaunt. Unlike Lucius who had—elegantly—hurried towards their friends, Lyra had approached the healers and the nurses, asking them about Cassandra.

She gave him a sad smile. “Hey, Theo,” she greeted.

Theodore had to force the corners of his lips to curl. “Lyra,” he said, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood the next second.

Lucius moved over by a seat and Lyra took his previous spot, resting a hand on Theodore’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. The healers said it missed the fatal spots, didn’t it? A few days of sleep and Cassie will return to her lovely self.”

“Yeah, I know, but—“ Theodore ran a hand through his hair while his eyes hardened “—this shouldn’t have happened in the first place. None of this. Cassie shouldn’t have been hurt. She—she shouldn’t have been hurt,” he croaked out, voice cracking.

Lucius pressed his lips thinly, Dennis’ eyes grew cold while Lyra squeezed his hand. “What happened?”

Theodore’s features tightened. “Recently, we learnt that there’s this mudblood ‘organisation’ that’s working towards eradicating our culture—at least, the parts of it that are sacred to us and boring to them. Obviously, we were mad. When the Dark Lord said we would be able to take revenge, I was so happy,” he narrated, and the fingers of his right hand dug through the dark mark burned on his left like it was a fleck of dirt he wanted to remove.

“They hadn’t expected us to retaliate, which made it all the more better. But then, towards the end, one of those filth had the audacity to stun Cassie when she had her back turned. A cheap shot, but I suppose it was foolish of me to believe their kind had any honour.” Theodore laughed bitterly, and Lyra’s eyes softened.

“They did this to her?” Lyra asked, her voice low and laced with something feral.

Theodore snorted. “Partially, yes, but oddly enough, they’re not the ones who I’m blaming.”

“How come?”

“I already burned them,” he informed her nonchalantly, and Lyra smiled. “And although they were the reason, they weren’t the cause of her injuries.”

“Who was?”

“The Dark Lord,” said Theodore darkly. His tone surprised Lyra given how the title had only been spoken with a mix of admiration, pride and hope before.

Lyra hummed, prompting him to elucidate.

“After stunning her, those mudbloods took her hostage and demanded that we let them go or they’d kill her. To prove it, they slashed near her neck,” Theodore recited absently, but his voice contained an edge. “There were four of them. We outnumbered them by plenty but this was Cassie’s life on the line. I couldn’t take the risk. I looked at the Dark Lord with the trust that he would figure it out, that he wouldn’t let any more harm befall Cassie because she’s pureblood and if there was one thing the Dark Lord preached since the dawn of time was how pureblood should be cultivated, not spilt. But you know what he fucking did?”

Lyra stayed silent as Theodore laughed again, a high pitched chilling sound that echoed off the hospital walls.

“He hexed her. He cursed her. He threw four spells at her until she went limp in the arms of her captives and blood began pooling out of her mouth. Even the mudbloods looked mortified. And you know what he said? He said, ‘What are you going to bargain with now?’ Like Cassie’s life was reduced to a bargaining tool despite being loyal to him. And then, he just told us to ‘clean the mess up’. I burned the mudbloods in response, and then, he dared to tell me that I should be happy he didn’t hit her vital organs, that he was merciful enough to spare her life despite Cassie being ‘weak’ and ‘allowing herself to be taken’. Can you believe that? Can you fucking believe that? This is the fucking saviour that everyone is worshipping?”

Lyra didn’t bring up how, until the previous day, Theodore had been one of his devotees.

Theodore clawed at the Dark Mark branded on his forearm, trying to remove that layer of skin with his nails while his vision misted. “You know what? If he’s so fine with spilling pureblood—Cassie’s blood—then I don’t see why my house-elves shouldn’t stain the tiles of my Manor red with his blood.”

“I don’t recommend you do that. Blood is hard to get out of carpets.”

“Speaking from personal experience?”

“Yes,” admitted Lyra. “Might I suggest bathing in his blood instead? It might sound a little extensive and might leave you smelling bad, but you would get the bragging rights of bathing in the blood of a Dark Lord, and what’s scarier than that?”

“The one who suggests bathing in the blood of a Dark Lord in the first place,” said Theodore, blinking away tears, before his voice grew serious. “I’ll think about what to do with his blood when I have it. Cassie’s taken up painting recently. Who knows, this could be a nice shade of red to use.”

Theodore’s tone of voice didn’t suggest he would do nothing as he had with Narcissa. This was different. With her, it was Thomas who had been in the wrong first, and Narcissa who had taken disciplinary action a little too far. With the Dark Lord, it was him being absolutely fine with disregarding Cassandra’s life and then blaming her for allowing herself to be taken. With Narcissa, it had been an accidental slip of the tongue that blew up into a mess of big egos. With the Dark Lord, it was personal. With the Dark Lord, Theodore gained a savage glint in his eyes, and his lips bespoke war songs.

Everyone had these invisible boundaries, a testament of what they would forgive and for what they would bring down the heavens for. Cassandra had been Theodore’s anchor, and the Dark Lord crossed a line with his comment that would lead him to lose the House of Nott as an ally and earn himself another enemy, one fuelled by the unquenchable thirst of revenge, of love.

After all, there was little more frightening than unforgivable crimes done in love’s name, without thought for consequences and emboldened by the urging of the heart.

Good thing Lyra already knew the consequences—and ways to get around them—for both of them.

“Hey, Theo?” Lyra said delicately when the boy looked up at her. “What would you say if I told you I can get Cassie’s paints for her, as long as you help?”

“I would say we better get it done by her birthday in a few months. It would spare me from having to buy her a gift. My vaults haven’t recovered from all the presents I got her for Yule.”

“And I would say,” started Dennis, bringing their attention upon him, where his teeth were bared out predatorily. When Lyra and Lucius had embarked on their travels, Dennis had gotten closer to Theodore and Cassandra. “How can I help?”

Lyra’s eyes gained a savage twinkle.