The House of Malfoy was in ruin. It used to be highly respected, with their charm and beauty, and most of all, their pure blood. None of these things had changed. They were still charming, they were still beautiful and they were definitely still pure. But respected? No, not by anyone. Not anymore.

Lucius Malfoy was the one determined to bring them glory, and yet he was the first to ruin them. Leading a mission the Dark Lord's name was difficult enough. But failing to retrieve the prophecy detailing his fate? And getting it broken in the process? That was a death sentence. He was incredibly lucky that he was still alive and he was lucky to have been broken out from Azkaban. But he would have to pay nonetheless. 

Draco Malfoy was the next to fail him. He had been given an almost impossible mission as a punishment for his father's mistakes. He hadn't completed his task, he hadn't killed Albus Dumbledore. But he had made it possible for someone else to do it, he planned and schemed so Death Eaters could invade Hogwarts. The Dark Lord still seemed to believe there was potential in the boy, having faith he could do better than his father. So he would not need to pay the steep price his father would. 

Lyra Malfoy was arguably the biggest failure of all, and yet she was the only ones able to keep it hidden. She was a blood-traitor through and through, with a personal vendetta towards most of the Death Eaters. If given the opportunity, she, a woman who had never taken a life, would not hesitate to kill many of them. The Dark Lord himself included. And yet she was the one most safe from the Dark Lord's clutches, the one who seemed to have the most respect of the Malfoys. 

But, as a whole, the Malfoys were paying for their mistakes. The so-called Dark Lord, Voldemort, had them all on a tight leash. They would have to allow him to whatever he'd like with them and their properties. If not, their lives and safety could no longer be guaranteed. 

Their house was filled with Death Eaters more often than not. At nightfall, Lyra's whole (well, the whole non-disowned ones) family would stay behind. Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa and Hector Flint had all decided to stay at the Manor permanently. Sometimes Voldemort stayed, too. 

Narcissa and Hector had to stay with them anyway. Flint Manor had been occupied by other Death Eaters, such as the remaining Lestranges. Lyra didn't mind that they were kept away from them for the most part. She hadn't been able to look Rabastan in the eye since Lucius returned. Whenever she knew he would come to the Manor, she'd lock herself in her study with someone, pretending to be interested in their plans for killing muggleborns or whatever. 

And so Malfoy Manor was a Death Eater hotspot. There was no way for any of them to escape it. Lyra had been to more Death Eater meetings in the past week than she had ever been before. She had to because she wanted to be there for Draco. Lucius couldn't even defend himself these days, much less their terrified son. Draco may not entirely trust her anymore but she had managed to convince her that she had his best interests at heart. 

She found herself sitting between her husband and her son at yet another Death Eater meeting in their home. She tried to avoid looking straight forward because of who was sitting there. She still couldn't find it within her to make eye contact with Rabastan Lestrange, especially as she sat next to her husband.

They were still waiting for a few more Death Eaters. Lyra glanced sidewards at her husband, who looked incredibly tense. He had never looked worse, waxy and pale and thin. She hesitantly reached out and grabbed his hand for comfort. 

He turned his head to her, expecting a comfort smile or something to tell him things were going to be all right. He didn't get that reassurance. Her face was stone cold, yet her eyes were afraid. She was trying very hard to ignore Rabastan's burning gaze as he noticed the affectionate gesture. 

She looked to her other side instead, where Draco kept glancing upward. There was a figure hanging in the air, a prisoner Voldemort wanted to make an example of. Lyra frowned for a moment, wishing there was some way to speak to him and tell him not to look. But there was a deafening silence in the Manor. 

She reached out with her free hand, grabbing Draco's. He barely looked up at her with scared, gray eyes but she shook her head slightly, telling him to stop looking. She clutched the hands of both Malfoy men, hoping they would have some unity now that they were back together. It was all they had left. 

The door to the drawing room, where the meeting was being held, opened. Two men, Death Eaters, walked through. Lyra felt a reassurance at knowing Severus Snape was one of them. He was one of the only ones she trusted nowadays, which she was sure her younger self would have screamed at her for. But she had no other choice, he had been able to keep her secrets well. 

"Yaxley, Snape, you are very nearly late," the Dark Lord greeted them with his high voice. He indicated to two seats in which he wanted them to sit. He wanted Snape on his immediate right, where Lucius once used to sit. "Severus, here. Yaxley, beside Dolohov. So?"

Snape understood that the last word was directed at him as he sat down. He wanted whatever information he had gone out to gather. "My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, after nightfall."

As excitement at the news spread throughout the Death Eaters, Lyra clenched her jaw and stayed silent. She could feel Draco barely clutching her hand even tighter. No matter their dislike for one another, she knew Draco had never wanted Harry to die. Lyra surely didn't either. 

"Saturday, at nightfall," Voldemort repeated. He looked at Snape, his red eyes so intense that many looked away. Snape did not. His cold, pale lips tugged up into something that could have been mistaken for a smile. "Good. Very good. And this information comes-"

"From the source we discuss," Snape finished his sentence. Most of the people in the room would never have dared do such a thing. The Dark Lord would have seen it as a sign of disrespect from them. But not from Snape. 

"My Lord, my Lord, I have heard differently," Yaxley suddenly spoke up, leaning forward so Voldemort could see him from his seat. He did not get a response so he felt confident enough to keep talking. "Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy turns seventeen."

Snape only smiled coolly. "My source tells me there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time; he is known to be susceptible."

Yaxley fought the urge to glare at Snape, instead defending his intel. "I assure you, my Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain."

"If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain," Snape pointed out. "I assure you, Yaxley, the Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. The Order believes that we have infiltrated the Ministry."

A small man, a lowly Death Eater who's name Lyra had never bothered to learn, wheezed with delight, finding his words incredibly funny. "The Order's got one thing right, then, eh?"

Voldemort did not laugh. Instead, he only found himself watching the floating body above, the one Draco had been glancing at. He seemed to pay no mind to what either Yaxley or the other man was saying. 

Yaxley hesitantly continued. "My Lord, Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be used to transfer the boy-"

Voldemort easily silenced him, holding his pale hand up. He turned back to Snape, much to Yaxley's chagrin. "Where are they going to hide the boy next?"

"At the home of one of the Order," Snape answered easily. Lyra watched him, wondering what he was playing at. He always did have an angle. "The place, according to the source, has been given every protection that the Order and Ministry together could provide. I think that there is little chance of taking him once he is there, my Lord, unless, of course, the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday, which might give up the opportunity to discover and undo enough of the enchantments to break through the rest."

"Well, Yaxley," the Dark Lord called out, once again returning the attention to the man. "Will the Ministry have fallen by next Saturday?"

He squared his shoulders as he prepared to answer. "My Lord, I have good news on that score. I have, with difficulty and after great effort, succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse."

Most of the Death Eaters couldn't seem to hold back their impressed looks. Dolohov even slapped Yaxley on the back from his neighboring seat. Once again, the Malfoys stayed stoic. Only Draco nervously glanced upwards once again. 

"It is a start," Voldemort only said, showing no signs of being impressed himself. "But Thicknesse is only one man. Scrimgeour must be surrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister's life will set me back a long way."

Yaxley nodded eagerly. "Yes, my Lord, that is true. But you know, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. It will, I think, be easy now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, to subjugate the others, and then they can all work together to bring Scrimgeour down.

 "As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the rest," said Voldemort. "At any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine before next Saturday. If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, then it must be done while he travels."

Yaxley ached for Voldemort's approval, as most of the Death Eaters did. They all wanted to be his right-hand man, the place once occupied by Lucius and now by Snape. "We are at an advantage there, my Lord.We now have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport. If Potter Apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall know immediately."

"He will not do either," Snape said, bringing the Dark Lord's attention back to him. Yaxley clenched his jaw in annoyance. "The Order is eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do with the place."

"All the better. He will have to move in the open. Easier to take, by far," said Voldemort, looking up at the body hovering above. "I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs. I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be."

Suddenly, a loud wail sounded throughout the Manor, seemingly coming from below the meeting. Many people looked shocked and startled at this, looking down at their feet in surprise. 

"Wormtail," Voldemort spoke to the small man sitting by the center of the long table, still only looking up at the hovering form. "Have I not spoken to you about keeping our prisoner quiet?"

"Yes, m- my Lord," Peter Pettigrew stuttered, hurrying out of his seat as he ignored all the eyes upon him. He was surrounded by some of the most intimidating witches and wizards in Britain after all. He ran out of the room as quickly as he could. 

"As I was saying, I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter." Voldemort's words unnverved his followers, none of whom were eager to give theirs up when they were usually so compliant. "No volunteers? Let's see... Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore."

Lyra stiffened as he faced her husband, who looked up at the Dark Lord. Lucius spoke rather quietly, his voice still hoarse from his year spent in Azkaban. "My Lord?"

"Your wand, Lucius," said Voldemort, leaving no room for argument. "I require your wand."

"I..." Lucius hesitated, barely casting a glance at Lyra, who did not dare look back at him. He was acutely aware of the feeling of her hand in his, as she barely squeezed it. Whether she did it comfort him and remind him that she was still there or to tell him to stay calm, he didn't know. 

He reached into his robes and withdrew his wand, passing it along to the Dark Lord as he used his free hand to once again squeeze Lyra's. She pursed her lips, wishing to look at him but not daring to make eye contact with Voldemort. 

Voldemort grabbed it from his hand, ignoring the pained look on Lucius's face. He examined the wand carefully. "What is it?"

"Elm, my Lord," Lucius whispered. 

"And the core?"

"Dragon- Dragon Heartstring," he stuttered uncharacteristically. Lyra straightened up in her seat at this. If Lucius was scared enough to stutter then he would not be able to speak up if their family was threatened. It meant she would have to. 

"Good." He grabbed his own wand, preparing to compare the lengths of the two wands. Lucius made an involuntary movement at that, looking like was prepared for it to be handed to him. Several Death Eaters snickered at this. "Give you my wand, Lucius? My wand? I have given you your liberty, Lucius, is that not enough for you? But I have noticed that you and your family seem less than happy of late... What is it about my presence in your home that displeases you, Lucius?"

The Malfoy man obviously regretted the movement as Lyra closed her eyes for a moment. "Nothing- nothing, my Lord."

"Such lies, Lucius," he hissed, sounding much like a snake. The hissing did not end as he stopped speaking. All the Death Eaters tensed up as they heard Voldemort's snake, Nagini, slide across the floor underneath the table, rising up to rest across his shoulders. He stroked the snake, though not taking his eyes off Lucius. "Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot? Is my return, my rise to power, not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?"

"Of course, my Lord," Lucius answered quickly, noticing the way Lyra seemed to prepare to say something. He used his free hand to wipe the sweat from his upper lip. "We did desire it - we do."

"My Lord, of course we have long hoped for and desired your return," Lyra lied, ignoring Lucius's warning looks. Her voice was much stronger and clearer than his. "I, myself, have been thrilled to have been bestowed upon the honor of hosting you in the Manor several times throughout the last year as we do today. My Lord, I have done nothing but support you."

Voldemort's red eyes watches Lyra for a moment, as if he was unsure what to think of her. He couldn't even attempt to see inside her mind, after all. He smiled slightly. "Yes, Lyra, you are quite right. You have been a most gracious host."

Lyra could feel every one of the Death Eaters look at strangely, wondering where she got her bravery to speak directly to the Dark Lord when she wasn't even one of them. Draco and Snape watched her carefully, both of them knowing where her true allegiance lied. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Perhaps it should have been you rather than your husband to be among our ranks," he mused, still looking at her, trying to catch any weakness on her face. He found none. "I can imagine there would less mistakes then if you are as alike your sister as I have always believed."

He didn't seem to care that Bellatrix almost started crying from her seat at the compliment he had given. Lyra definitely didn't care, and internally she wasn't very fond of being compared to her sister. Part of her knew it was justified, as they were rather similar in many ways. It was just that Lyra hadn't done the awful things Bellatrix had. She hadn't gone mad. 

"Then again, I'd say two Malfoys unable to follow orders are already too many. There should be no need for another," Voldemort said coolly, making many of the Death Eaters laugh amongst themselves at the humiliation facing Lucius and Draco. "Though I do see more Black in you, Lyra. Too bad the Blacks have now disappeared for good, leaving you with a surname that has been less than desireable."

"My Lord," Bellatrix spoke up from her seat between Narcissa and Rodolphus, on the other side of the table from Lyra. Next to Rodolophus sat Rabastan, opposite Lyra. Once her eyes traveled to her sister, she found herself making brief eye contact with the man who'd been her lover for almost a year. "It is an honor to have you here, in our family's house. There can be no higher pleasure."

"No higher pleasure," Voldemort repeated, looking from one sister to the other. They looked quite a bit alike, if not for the different colors of their eyes and hair. "That means a great deal, Bellatrix, coming from you."

Bellatrix was already about to cry because of the former compliment he had paid her, but now she looked more delighted than Lyra had ever seen her. "My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!"

"No higher pleasure," he repeated once again, stroking Nagini's head. "Even compared with the happy event that, I hear, has taken place in your family this week?"

Both Bellatrix and Narcissa looked confused, but Lyra knew exactly what he was talking about. She couldn't believe he was about to speak of it in front of the entire crowd. Bellatrix obviously hated being the dark and had to ask what he was talking about. "I don't know what you mean, my Lord."

"I'm talking about your niece, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord informed calmly. "And yours, Lucius and Lyra, Hector and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud."

The Death Eaters burst into loud laughter, jeering and exchanging gleeful looks. A few even thumped their fists against the table in pure amusement. They didn't mind seeing Bellatrix, the Malfoys and the Flints get knocked down a peg. They always thought they were so much better than everyone because of their ancient history, and especially due to their connection to the House of Black.

Lucius could see Lyra tense up at the mention of Remus Lupin, though she was obviously doing her best not to show any reaction. Though he did not know they had been in contact since their time at Hogwarts, he knew well that she had cared, even if he detested it. He squeezed her hand briefly once again, offering the comfort she had given him already. Rabastan kept looking at them. 

Bellatrix's face was far from the tearfully happy sight it had recently been, now flushed with bright hot anger, both at her disowned sister's daughter and the Death Eaters who dared laugh at them. "We - Narcissa, Lyra and I - have never set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. This brat has nothing to do with either of us, nor any beast she marries."

"What say you, Draco?" Voldemort whispered, though his voice still managed to be clear and easily heard over all the loud yeers and laughs. "Will you babysit the cubs?"

The laughing got even louder as Draco's face went white. He released his mother's hand, but glanced at his father, as if he was searching for support. Lucius only stared at his own lap. Draco barely caught his mother's eye for a moment as she slightly shook her head at him, telling him not to give the reaction they desperately wanted. 

"Enough, enough," said Voldemort as he stroked his snake again, making the laughter cease at once. He turned his head to Bellatrix, who was looking at him breathlessly. "Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time. You must prune yours, must you not, to keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest."

"Yes, my Lord, at the first chance!" Bellatrix exclaimed, her eyes once again filled with tears of gratitude. 

"You shall have it," he said shortly. "And in your family, so in the world... we shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain."

Lyra watched as he raised Lucius's wand, pointing it to the person who was floating above them, giving it a tiny flick to wake the unfamiliar woman to life, making her groan and struggle. "Do you recognize our guest, Severus?"

Snape looked up at the woman, expressionless. Everyone but Draco, who had already looked at her enough, glanced up as if they had finally been given permission. The woman called out for help, her voice cracking as she cried. "Severus! Help me!"

"Ah, yes," the Professor said. 

"And you, Draco?" Voldemort asked the Hogwarts student, who shook his head jerkily. "But you would not have taken her classes. For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yes, Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles... how they are not so different from us."

One of the Death Eaters spat on the floor as if it digusted him, several whispered among themselves. Burbage was being spun around in a circle as she floated above them, begging. "Severus, please... please."

"Silence," Voldemort commanded sharply, waving Lucius's wand to gag her. She stayed quiet from then on. "Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of Mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance... She would have us all mate with Muggles... or, no doubt, werewolves."

Everyone stayed quiet now, not daring to speak when their Dark Lord spoke with such pure anger and contempt for the woman in front of them. Lyra pursed her lips as Lucius held her hand tightly, both of them knowing he was refering to Remus when he spoke of werewolves. Lyra desperately wanted to tell everyone in that room that Remus Lupin, werewolf or not, was a thousand times better than every one of them. 

Charity Burbage was crying as she was turned around to meet Snape's impassive eyes once again. But then Voldemort raised Lucius's wand once again, gripping it so his pale fingers became even whiter. "Avada Kedavra."

Charity Burbage's body fell to the table as a green light illuminated the room, making many of the Death Eaters recoil in their chairs. Draco was the most surprised, falling on the floor. Lyra desperately wanted to lean down to ask if he was alright, but Lucius's grip on her hand tightened. 

Lyra didn't dare move a muscle. But as she looked up from the body in front of her, her eyes met Rabastan's. And for the first time in over a week, she didn't look away from the stone cold look on his face. 

Voldemort's words rang softly through the room as he stopped petting his snake. "Dinner, Nagini."

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A/N: So we've officially gotten to Deathly Hallows! That does mean there isn't that long left of the book, as you guys might have guessed. I'm really debating what to write once I'm finished, though. Part of me wants to go straight into writing my Draco book (which had a few parts published a few months ago before I unpublished them again), but another part may have a Lucinda spin-off fic in my drafts (that girl had a lot of drama Lyra did not know about) that I sort of want to write first. Decisions, decisions.