----------------------> GRANDMOTHER MALANIA HAD ALWAYS BEEN FOND of throwing overly extravagant galas, even for a Black. Her speciality, in particular, was masquerades, simply because she adored it when misunderstandings happened and she had a front seat view of it. So, in honour of Yule that year, Lady Malania Black nee Macmillan threw yet another black and white themed masquerade ball, inviting everybody who was anybody.
The rules of a Black Masquerade were quite simple. Everybody wears masks, changes their hair and eye colour. However, all the Blacks wore black dresses and dress-robes while the guests woar white. This specific rule wasn't so much as to differentiate the mighty Blacks from the rest, but rather, to find out if any of their children were about to do something they'd regret.
The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black would like to avoid another incident similar to the one that took place in the spring of 1963 where a little girl -in a bout of accidental magic- pushed the then Minister of Magic into the centrepiece which had been a large crystal fountain of elvish wine because he had expressed something along the lines of "Muggles aren't entirely terrible".
Orion had been in glee at the incident involving the Minister and the little girl until he had realised that it was his little girl. Since then, the dress code was strictly imposed and even now, the then Minister still flinched whenever he saw Lyra.
Lady Black was in her element as she walked around the room with her husband, socialising with the guests and politely smiling as they showered praises and compliments on her. Orion was with some of the members of the History Guild while Walburga was chatting away with Lady Malfoy without care.
The Black cousins were all huddled together in a corner of the ballroom and talking amongst themselves. When others their age -but not in Slytherin or Gryffindor- tried to approach them, they were sent running away with identical glares by the family. After all, if the Blacks wanted to socialise with people, they would have been walking around the room like their parents. But at the moment, they didn't and they wanted to be left alone so they could spend time with their cousins.
Molly was sporting a proud baby bump and was engaged in a conversation with Bellatrix about something. Andromeda had declined the invitation to attend the ball, forgoing the desire to be the centre of all the disgusted stares and backlash. Narcissa and Leonard were whispering in each other's ears while Lucius was speaking with Dennis regarding the Quidditch Cup.
Theodore and Cassandra were slow dancing to the soft music, their heads resting on each other's shoulders and their faces decorated with a smile. Valarie Bulstrode, Henry Flint, Patrick Parkinson and Penelope Rowle were all discussing their upcoming weddings while Lyra, Gideon, Fabian, Regulus, Sirius and James were standing at a dark corner of the room and were conversing about the occupants of the room.
"I cannot believe Lord Max brought his mistress to the ball instead of his wife." Fabian drawled.
"I can," Lyra said. "In his defence, his wife is currently spending time in Spain with her boyfriend. Who else was he going to bring?"
"Point," Fabian conceded.
"Grandma Mal looks so happy, doesn't she?" Regulus mused aloud, eyes following his grandmother as she expertly mingled with the crowd. "Her smile is as whole and bright as a full moon."
"That's what I was afraid of." Lyra shook her head solemnly. "The phases of the moon reduce as time goes by, doesn't it? I am not looking forward to her no-moon day."
James theatrically shivered. "Nobody is."
"Not even Odysseus himself," Sirius added, prompting them all to nod in agreement.
Gideon hummed after a while. "Do you think Auntie Walburga will throw a piano at us if we spike the punch?" He wondered aloud with a mischievous twinkle shining bright in his blue eyes.
"Oh yes," Regulus confirmed, prompting the Prewett twins to let out identical grins.
"Then, we definitely have to do it." Fabian declared. "After all, we weren't present the last time she lifted and threw a piano."
"We need to see that blessed sight for ourselves," Gideon added, eyeing the piano playing in the corner of the ballroom with mirth glittering in his eyes.
"Don't bother," Sirius said with a scowl. "James, Reg and I tried spiking the punch bowl earlier, but there seemed to be this restriction line preventing anybody carrying any sort of alcoholic substance near the punch bowl from going near it. Great Aunt Cassi drew it herself."
Cassiopeia Black was perhaps one of the greatest ward masters of all time and if she drew a line, there was no hope for them.
"Then, we can go inside the line and then try summoning it, can't we?" Fabian questioned.
"No," James shook his head. "That doesn't work either, believe me, we've tried it all."
"I asked both Uncle Alphard and Kreacher to spike it for us but even that didn't work." Regulus chimed in, bringing a frown to grace Gideon's face.
"Well, that sucks."
"Couldn't have framed it better myself." Fabian agreed, scowling.
The five boys heard a sweet sound of laughter at Fabian's statement, causing them to turn to its source, looking at Lyra as she swirled a crystal wine glass filled with the fine blood-red colour of elf-made wine.
"Apologies, gentlemen and Sirius, but you see what the obvious solution in your little problem is, don't you?"
"Well, if we had, we would have solved it by now, wouldn't we, sister dearest?" Sirius shot-back, making Lyra laugh.
"Indeed. All I'm saying is," her lips curled upwards into a smile, "spike the cups."
She was met with blank stares in reply. Gideon blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"If you can't spike the drinks... Then spike the cups." Lyra elaborated slowly, winking as realisation enlightened her cousin and her brothers. Hoisting her wine glass in the air as if she were giving a toast, Lyra smiled. "Good luck and to be honest, I don't think my mother is going to be throwing any pianos today no matter what you all do. Grandmother Malania just bought these carpets, you see." Lyra said before she turned around and walked to the nearest group and made polite talk with them.
"I adore your sister." Gideon declared in awe.
"So does nearly everybody we meet. You're not really that special." Regulus said.
A playfully offended look crossed Gideon's features."My mother says differently."
"Your mother lies, then," Regulus replied.
Gideon turned to his twin for help but Fabian just shrugged. "He's not wrong. Mum does lie a lot. Remember that time mother claimed that she hid a pouch containing three thousand gallons inside our room so we could both buy the latest brooms for ourselves and told us that we would only be able to find it when we clean each of our rooms without the use of magic only to actually finish cleaning it and finding a pouch that contained a letter that read and I quote, 'Suckers'"
"Oh yeah," Gideon blinked. "Dad had to buy the brooms for us after he found out about the prank. Well, after he stopped laughing that is. Mum's the worst."
"But, she's also our world."
"Very true." Gideon accepted.
------> 0o0 <------
Lyra wasn't sure how exactly she ended up slow dancing in the middle of the ballroom under the ancient, expensive chandelier with the Dark Lord, but it was then that she formed a theory in her mind that since her godbrother was a Potter -the family infamously known for their terrible yet brilliant experience with luck- the ability must have crossed over to her as well.
He looked different from her memory of Bella's wedding. He still carried those eire bloody eyes and his skin was the colour of a corpse. However, his nose had sinked into his features and his hairline was receding, leaving a bald-patch on his head. Lyra thought he resembled more snake than human, and wondered how much black magic he had been tampering with.
Lyra had one hand on his shoulder and the other interlinked with his fingers in mid-air while the Dark Lord had one of his arms snaked onto her waist. Their bodies were pressed close together, something that Lyra had done on purpose so that he couldn't see her face and more importantly, she couldn't see those eerie blood-red eyes that haunted her dreams like a ghost. Their feet took small steps in a union, following the rhythm of the song that was playing while their bodies swayed lightly.
Lyra could feel a hint of his breath on her shoulders, making her dearly regret wearing sleeveless while even though she tried not to, she was sure he could feel her exhales on the exposed part of his neck.
It was oddly intimate and Lyra could see Lucius -although he was still engaged in a conversation with Dennis- gripping the stem of his wine glass with worry. Bella, on the other hand, had pride, glee and jealousy painted on her face, seemingly torn between being happy for her cousin to have caught the eye of the Dark Lord or mad for the same reason.
They had been dancing for about three songs now in complete silence, neither of them willing to break it. The Dark Lord's posture was relaxed and Lyra's face was perfectly serene. Nobody could guess what was going on in their minds and they wanted to keep it that way.
Finally, when the seventh song began to play, the Dark Lord spoke in his casually charming, soft tone of voice.
"You didn't reply to my letter."
It was a statement, not an accusation; more like a matter of fact that he was curious to know the answer to.
Lyra didn't tense at his abrupt questioning. Instead, she calmly responded, her breath meeting his neck. "Indeed, I didn't. You gave Bellatrix the position of your apprentice," she stated in the same tone that he had used.
The Dark Lord chuckled, stepping closer to her as his hand gripped her waist tighter. "Indeed, I did." He confirmed and although she couldn't see him, Lyra knew that he sported a smile on his face. "She is excited to take on my mark. Are you?"
"I can't," Lyra replied and for the teeniest of moments, the Dark Lord froze.
"Oh," he said. "Why is that?"
"Because I'm second in line to be the Head of House Black," she replied impassively. "I honestly can't, whether I want to or not. I am duty and honour bound to not take on any marks or extend any promises of service to anybody as long as I am a Black. The consequences of my actions would be the loss of all my magic."
"When you get married, you'll be a Malfoy." The Dark Lord said mildly. "You can take it then."
Lyra shook her head lightly, strands of her dark hair that had been let loose on purpose subsequently tickled the Dark Lord's neck. "Unfortunately -and I say this with great regret- this rule I will have to follow as long as the blood of my ancestors flows through my veins. Marriage and even death itself cannot change it." She explained, prompting the Dark Lord to let out a thoughtful hum. "It will also extend to Lucius, I suppose," she added offhandedly.
Lyra could see Lucius tense through the reflection of somebody's wine glass, alerting her with the fact that the Dark Lord's face now adorned a scowl.
"And why is that?" He asked casually. However, one would have to be a fool to not sense the warning tone in his voice.
"It's one of the conditions in the marriage contract that my to-be spouse follows the rule of not being bound as well," Lyra replied vacantly. "Lord Malfoy already signed it a little before Yule."
"Did he now?" The Dark Lord said, recollecting Abraxas taking his blessings that Lyra and Lucius were engaged at last; at least on paper considering the two still hadn't forgotten about their little bet. Voldemort now internally seethed that Abraxas didn't read the fine print of the contract.
Lyra, as if sensing his inner turmoil, spoke again, only this time, in parseltongue- the special language that was only restricted to both their ears, consequently making the nearby dancing couples shiver as they heard the hissings.
"It's better this way," Lyra hissed, immediately bringing a smile to adorn the Dark Lord's face. "Just because Lucius and I cannot promise our service to you does not mean that we will not assist you in making this world of ours a better place, my Lord. Just because the two of us will not bear your mark does not mean that we will not try our best to carry out your commands."
She could see Lucius' wide-eyes, indirectly indicating that the Dark Lord had a pleased expression knitted into his features.
"After all," she continued. "Lucius is going to be working in a high position at the Ministry after his travels while I will be a healer. I will be most honoured to take care of the health of the noble followers of yours and to also fight for your most honourable cause if I have to, my Lord. I assure you that Lucius and I -although not barring your mark or promising our services- will do it regardless."
"I knew you would find a loophole in your ancestors' words, Lyra dearest," The Dark Lord let out a pleased chuckle, excited to be speaking in the most sacred language of parseltongue. "And you will do a fine job -along with Lucius, of course- at helping our cause grow greater than ever before, I'm sure."
"Thank you, my Lord. I sincerely appreciate the faith you have in me and Lucius. We will not lower your expectations."
"I know you won't," The Dark Lord hissed in his smooth, soothing, serpentine voice. "At least one good thing came out of this information that I am admittedly sad yet delighted to learn- Bellatrix will be pleased that she no longer has to compete with you for the position of my lieutenant."
"Your lieutenant, my Lord? Bellatrix is going to be your second in command? That's wonderful news! I'm sure she'll be ecstatic when she hears that."
"Indeed, she will be most honoured." The Dark Lord agreed. "Although, it is unfortunate that I won't be able to communicate with her in a language that nobody else knows, but I suppose one can't have it all."
They danced in silence again, neither one speaking. After the twentieth song -and yes, Lyra did count- the Dark Lord finally released her waist, taking a step back as she removed her hand from his shoulder before softly kissing her knuckles.
His blood eyes looked up into her stormy ones and he smiled genuinely, face softening. "I look forward to seeing how you contribute, Lyra dearest and more importantly, seeing you again, my dear."
Lyra curtsied elegantly, an angelic smile gracing her face. "And I, you, my Lord."
He looked into her eyes again and she met his stare head-on. While he was an expert legilimence, she was a gifted occlumence.
At last, he smiled at her before turning and walking away to talk to someone else.
Lucius was immediately at her side, whisking her away into another dance seeing as her legs had been rooted on the spot as her eyes followed the retreating figure of the Dark Lord, in an effort for people to not realise that although she exerted perfection on the outside, she was gripped by a turmoil of horror on the inside.
"Are you alright?" Lucius asked her immediately, placing both hands on her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck, both of their faces buried into each other's shoulders -not caring what people thought of their dance position- as they lightly swayed to their heartbeats rather than the music, both lost in a world of their own and their voices coming out muffled.
"I am and so are you," Lyra said, thinking about how she had lied with a straight voice to the Dark Lord about both of them losing their magic if they pledged their services to him or bore the dark mark.
Grandfather Arcturus had been the one to come up with the idea. He added a clause in the marriage contract that said that neither Lucius nor Lyra could ever serve the Dark Lord and came up with a bullshit of an explanation that actually sounded like something the insane Blacks would do.
If his granddaughter didn't want to become a follower then that was her choice, one that Arcturus would support fully. So while she wouldn't really lose her magic if she was ever branded like a slave, they had to make the Dark Lord think both she and Lucius would be.
Hence, their extravagantly elaborate scheme that rested on her lying believably to the Dark Lord and her grandfather adding a very real but at the same time fake clause to the marriage contract between herself and Lucius and posturing Lord Malfoy to sign it at a time when he was exceedingly drunk.
"Are we really?" Lucius asked with a hint of doubt. While he hadn't been let onto the whole plan for his own safety, he knew just enough to believe that it seemed too good to be true.
"Not completely, no. While we won't bear his mark, we will have to help out in any way we can to the absolute best of our abilities. I fear that's the only reason he's actually letting us go with it."
"That's alright," Lucius turned his face from where his head still rested on her shoulders and softly kissed her neck. "It's safer, isn't it?"
"It's most dangerous, actually," Lyra smiled into Lucius' shoulders. "But at least we won't be a slave to an insane psychopath."
Lucius snorted. "Speak for yourself. My heart is already a metaphorical slave to you." He stated pointedly, bringing her to raise an eyebrow.
"Did you just insinuate that I am an insane psychopath?"
"Are you really denying the charge?"
"Of course not," Lyra grinned. She raised her head up, prompting him to do the same before leaning in and softly kissing his lips. "I love you."
"I love you too," Lucius said, mirroring her expression as the two of them danced the night away, happily content in each other's arms and pretending not to know about the inevitable darkness that was looming over the horizon.