LANDSLIDE, james potter [2]

Chapter Forty-Eight

There was only one place where Lyra knew she would get quiet, and have the opportunity to talk to her son without interruption. And that happened to be Draco's room, where people saw no need to enter. Well, people other than her. She was still his mother, even after everything that happened. She still believed she should be allowed inside. 

She found him sitting on his bed, his face pale as he stared at the wall. She wasn't sure what he had just done, but she knew he had just been with his father and Voldemort. Part of her wanted to know what had happened, just so she could be there for him. The other part didn't want to know what innocence he had lost today. 

Lyra poked her head through the door, knocking it on it carefully. She pursed her lips as he turned around rapidly, looking rather frightened. He calmed down the minute he saw it was her, but only greeted her with a small nod. "Are you okay?"

"I'm- I'm fine," the blond boy stuttered, watching warily as she closed the door behind her. He didn't like it when people were around his room, mostly because he knew people could try to listen in. "Are you?"

She frowned, wondering why he'd ask that when she felt like he looked worse than she did. Then again, that was her point of view. It could very well be that she looked worse than she thought.. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I just... With everything... it's got to be hard to hear. All those things said at the last meeting, I mean," Draco said, seeming to find it difficult to find the right words. He kept glancing at the door, worried that somebody could be standing on the outside. 

Lyra looked down for a moment. She wasn't very happy about the things said during the last meeting they'd been at, but it's not like she could say anything about it. She walked over to sit next to him on the bed. "You do know that I'm sorry, right?"

"You've only told me a million times," he responded dryly, turning his head to look at her. She couldn't help but notice the deep, dark circles underneath his eyes. "I've gotten pretty good at keeping secrets. It shouldn't be a problem."

"I'm not sorry that you found out," the blonde woman told him, wanting to clear that up. She still felt awful about lying to him all this time. "I'm sorry about the way you found out, and I'm sorry that I'm forcing you to keep this secret. And I'm sorry that I've lied to you and made you feel this way."

"There wasn't anything else you could do," Draco responded, his voice void of any emotion still. "I realize that now."

"I could have been more honest with you, I know that. You don't have to make excuses for me," said Lyra, not wanting him to forgive her just because he didn't want to feel alone. She had done things in order to not be alone, too. It hadn't worked out too well thus far. "I was just scared that whatever influence your father has on you would take over and the secret wouldn't be safe."

The blond boy looked at his mother with a slight frown. "So you didn't trust me?"

Lyra didn't want to lie to him anymore. She had to tell him the truth, even if it hurt him. She couldn't lie and say that she had trusted him. "I should have. I should have trusted that you loved me enough."

"Yeah, you should have," he agreed, smoothing over his strangely messy hair. "But I get that you're only doing what you thought was right. That's why you did the last thing, kept your last secret. I don't think anyone knows that."

"You do," she reminded him, confused. Though she did appreciate the fact that he didn't outright mention the Order of the Phoenix in a house usually filled with Death Eaters. "And everyone there does."

"I'm not talking about... that." Draco looked like he was psyching himself up to say something, like he was pained trying get the words out. He eventually sighed and forced himself to speak.  "I'm talking about you and Lestrange."