LANDSLIDE, james potter [2]

Chapter Three

Lyra couldn't believe that Draco had gotten so big that he was going into his second year at Hogwarts. It felt like only yesterday that she had held him in her arms for the first time, feeling her first piece of happiness in years. 

The more he grew, the more he was like his father. Lyra wished she could have influenced him more, but Lucius was a stern father and husband. He would constantly remind her of what he was capable of if she corrupted their son. 

Lyra wanted to hex him a lot. But she couldn't, still haunted by those words Draco had said when he was six, wondering why his parents didn't love each other. She always shook it off, mostly caring that he was happy. He may not always be kind, but he was happy. (And she could always scold him in private, even if usually just scoffed and rolled his eyes). 

The Malfoy family had to get Draco's school supplies for the year in Diagon Alley. But, before that, Lucius had demanded they go to Knockturn Alley. Lyra knew exactly why he wanted to go to shop named Borgin and Burke's. He had many secrets he had to hide, especially when Arthur Weasley seemed to be getting evermore suspicious of him.

Lyra tried not to think too much of that part of their trip, though. She focused more on Draco's book list, shaking her head in disgust as they closed in on Borgin and Burke's. "I don't understand why they'd want you to get all these Lockheart books. I think he was a few years below me at school. Bit of a dolt. I don't believe he did half those things he says he did."

"The standards at Hogwarts are going down every single year," Lucius said snootily, his head held high. He was always quick to criticize the school under Albus Dumbledore's leadership.  "Severus is the only teacher worthwhile."

"Not the only one," Lyra retorted. She may not be quite fond of Severus Snape, but if Draco spoke highly of him as a teacher, she believed he must be good at his job. "Do you mean to say you've learned absolutely nothing from Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick?"

Lucius didn't respond to her words, only opening the doors to Borgin and Burke's to let his son and wife in. He scrunched his nose up in disgust at the dusty, old shop filled with dark objects as he reached out to ring a bell at the desk. "Touch nothing, Draco."

He was almost too late at saying it, as Draco had tried to reach for a glass eye which looked quite suspicious. The twelve-year-old pouted, now only looking at the eye. "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

"A broomstick, we told you," Lyra reminded him, looking at him sternly. "We're not going to go around buying you possibly cursed objects. We don't want you to become like your father too early."

Lucius looked at her blankly, clearly unamused at the way she was speaking of him in front of their son. She only smirked at him in return. "We'll buy you a racing broom once we're out of here."

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the house team?" Draco sulked. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead."

"We all know he's famous for more than that," said his mother, though smiling slightly at the fact that Harry was a Quidditch player. Like his father, who was a legend back in their day for his skills. "I'm sure that he's rather good of a Quidditch player. McGonagall isn't the type to let favoritism happen easily."

"Everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick," the twelve-year-old spat. Lyra snickered quietly. If not for the mention of the scar, it sounded like something she could have said about James when she was his age.