Chapter 44: Chapter forty one

☆☆☆

Lyra woke up that morning, the dim light filtering through the Slytherin dormitory woke her up, and for a moment she simply laid still with her eyes fixed on the brick roof above her bed, her mind hazy with remnants of sleep. But as she started to wake up, so did the memories.

Fred.

His voice. His stupid voice. Her stomach twisted as she thought about him, and she inhaled sharply as she dragged a hand over her face. What the hell had last night even been, it wasn't like they'd had some heartfelt confession, but something about it had unsettled her.

Not because it had been heated or because they had fought, because that was usually normal. No, this time it was different, because they had talked. They had actually talked to one another without any interruptions.

And she had actually enjoyed their conversation, as short as it was. It felt different when it was with him. It felt so wrong, but so right.

Lyra exhaled through her nose as she pushed herself up on her elbows, scanning the room. The dormitory was quiet and mostly empty. Everyone else had already gone to breakfast, except for one.

Pansy Parkinson stood near her bed as she buttoned up her uniform with her usual practiced ease. The two of them hadn't really talked in a while, and Lyra wasn't sure why, but it suspected it was mainly because how Astoria was usually the closest with Pansy, and they hadn't really talked in a while.

Pansy glanced at her from the mirror while arching a perfectly shaped brow, smiling slightly before she spoke up. "Good morning."

Lyra exhaled for a second, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Morning." She simply said as she laid her head back on her pillow, staring up at the stone roof above her.

"So, it is true, then, the rumours," Pansy suddenly said casually, fastening her tie. "You and Weasley?"

Lyra's stomach clenched and she froze, tilting her head slightly to look at the girl. 'what an odd way to start a conversation'. She thought to herself.

She quickly collected herself, tilting her head fully towards the raven haired girl before responding in a defensive tone. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Pansy paused for a moment before she smirked, the defensive tone gave Lyra away, and Pansy sighed before she opened her mouth to reply. "Don't play dumb, Lyra."

Lyra's fingers curled slightly in the sheets. She had been expecting this to happen one tine and she knew the whispers would start eventually. But still, hearing it spoken aloud made something in her tighten.

Of course they, meaning Lyra and Fred, have had rumours made about them before, but those rumours were mostly jokes to get them to hate each other even more. But this time Lyra could feel the rumours were different, genuine even.

Still Lyra refused to accept them, because she didn't know what she was feeling, and neither did those stupid gits who were responsible for making up those pathetic rumours.

Before she answered Pansy's comment, she scoffed dismissible, swinging her legs over the bed, tapping her fingers against the wooden bed frame. "You're ridiculous."

"Am I?" Pansy hummed as she was adjusting her sleeve. "You were seen leaving the corridors late last night. And Johnson was in tears. Coincidence? I think not."

Lyra's mouth slightly went agape, as she realised people had seen them, probably might've even heard them. Lyra clenched her jaw as she didn't respond, she wasn't really sure what to respond, so she just went with the casual-

"Shut up."

"I also heard about the festival." Pansy's voice was casual, almost indifferent as she fastened the last button of her blouse.

Lyra ran a hand through her hair as she had barely even processed everything from last night, and now she had to deal with whatever this was. She was over the festival, and didn't really want to dive into that situation yet again.

"I would've been there for you, you know, if I was invited." Pansy continued, although there was a small scoff at the end, but Lyra could hear the edge beneath it. The subtle bitterness.

Lyra turned her head slightly, giving Pansy a sharp look. "You weren't?"

If Pansy was telling the truth, that didn't make any sense. Astoria and Pansy had always been close, and If anyone would've been invited it was her.

Pansy shrugged, adjusting her tie with an air of nonchalance. "No. Not that it matters. She seems happier with Draco anyway."

Oh, so now Lyra gets it. She hummed quietly as she watched the way Pansy's lips pursed ever so slightly and how her fingers lingered on the fabric of her sleeve longer than necessary while Pansy stared into the mirror with a dead gaze.

"Oh, so you're jealous." Lyra asked with a questioning tone, although It wasn't really a question, rather a statement.

This comment made Pansy pause whatever she was doing and she then let out a dry chuckle. "Hardly." She ran a hand through her dark hair, smoothing out any imperfections. "It's just strange, is all. We used to be inseparable. Now I hardly see her without him."

Lyra tilted her head, studying her. Everybody knew how obsessed Pansy was with Draco when she first started at Hogwarts, but now it seemed like she almost despised him for taking away her first and only best friend. "You don't like him, do you?"

Pansy scoffed as she gave Lyra a look over her shoulder, before turning back to the big body mirror in front of her. "Of course, I do. He's Draco. I just..." She trailed off, expression unreadable for a moment before she sighed. "Never mind."

Lyra didn't push this time, since she understood in a way. She understood all too well how people change, and friendships shifts. It usually happens so subtly, so quietly, that you didn't even notice until one day you realise you weren't quite in the same place anymore.

It's a sad but common reality for a lot of people. Fortunately for Lyra, she had the best friends in the whole universe, and nothing could split them.

The conversation drifted after that. They spoke idly about meaningless things like class or about the stupid rumours that were floating around about Potter cheating his way into the tournament.

But the distance between them still lingered. A silence that hadn't always been there.

Eventually Lyra grabbed her wand from her bedside table, pushing herself off the bed and threw on her uniform, fixing her hair in a rush. She hesitated before she opened her mouth once more, "I should go. Daphne and the others are waiting."

Pansy barely reacted, but still gave the slytherin girl a small glance that lasted maybe a second or two. "Right."

Lyra hesitated and for a second she considered saying something more. Maybe something reassuring, maybe something welcoming, but she wasn't sure which. So instead she just nodded and left, stepping into the dim corridors of the Slytherin dormitory, heading toward the common room.

A pang of guilt hit her. She should've invited the raven hair girl to come with her, but obviously her and Astoria had some unfinished business they had to handle first.

She didn't look back, and a couple seconds later she met Daphne in the common room, the blonde already waiting for her with a small smirk.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Daphne commented as they walked out of the dungeons together.

Lyra rolled her eyes, choosing not to mention her conversation with Pansy just yet. "Just tired."

Daphne hummed, but the way her smirk deepened told Lyra that she wasn't buying it.

"Whatever you say," she mused. "Anyway, we have transfiguration after breakfast. Theo said Professor McGonagall's been in an awful mood all week, so let's not be late unless you want her to turn us into teacups."

Lyra snorted. "Wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me this week."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments enjoying the morning air crisp as the students around them slowly filled the corridors. Lyra, despite herself, kept scanning the sea of faces almost expecting to catch a glimpse of red hair, and she hated that.

Daphne who was oblivious of her friends behaviour, sighed dramatically. "So, Theo was being annoying last night."

Lyra arched a brow at her friend before slightly smiling. "Shocking." She said sarcastically.

"Right?" Daphne grinned before rolling her eyes. "He's just being, I don't know. He does this thing where he acts like he doesn't care, but I know he does. He gets all quiet and brooding, and then the next second he's dragging me away from everyone else like he has to talk to me." She shucked.

Lyra eyed her friend, but smirked slightly. "Sounds like you love the attention."

Daphne scoffed. "Oh, shut up." She exclaimed as she swung her bag into Lyra's hip, before she sighed and a soft smile tugged at her lips. "We spent all summer together, you know. Our parents went on some ministry retreat or whatever, so he stayed at my place for a while. It was.. nice."

Lyra gave her a side glance as her eyes filled with amusement, and she slightly chuckled by her friends comment. "Nice?" She said plainly, giving her a look that practically screamed, 'I need more details'.

Daphne huffed as she saw her friends look. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?"

"The where's the details look. And no, I am not whipped."

Lyra bit back a laugh as she opened her mouth to answer. "Daph, you literally just spent a full minute complaining about how Theo drags you away just to talk to you, but you're smiling about it. Admit it, you love it."

Daphne groaned, but Lyra noticed how her cheeks were light pink. "He's just- he's different when it's just us, you know?"

Lyra hummed, nodding in understanding. She knew that feeling all too well.

"I mean, take last night," Daphne continued, waving her hands around as she explained. "He was being all mysterious and quiet during dinner, and then after, he pulls me aside and suddenly he's soft. Tells me he missed me, asks if I slept well, stuff like that."

Lyra smirked. "Theo? Soft? I need proof."

Daphne nudged her playfully. "Shut up. He is, okay? He just doesn't show it to everyone."

As they turned a corner they passed by a group of Gryffindors. Lyra's gaze instinctively flickered over them, scanning each individual face. Her stomach twisted when she saw a very familiar redhead walking beside George, laughing at something, who didn't notice her one bit.

She forced herself to look away, but she quickly returned back to reality when Daphne's voice broke her out of her thoughts, and Lyra turned her attention back to her friend, listening intently.

"-Draco and Astoria are the same way," Daphne said while she was completely oblivious to Lyra's brief distraction. "He's always been protective over her, but now? It's ridiculous."

Lyra chuckled and nodded slightly in agreement. "Yeah, I noticed. He's like her personal bodyguard."

Daphne rolled her eyes fondly. "It's sweet, though. They fit together."

Lyra hummed noncommittally, not sure if she wanted to dive into a conversation about relationships. Daphne thankfully, changed the subject.

"Anyway, enough about me. What about you?" She smirked. "Anything interesting happen last night?"

Lyra stiffened slightly, before composing herself. "No."

Daphne raised an eyebrow at her friend while she pursed her lips, giving Lyra a suspicious glare. "That was suspiciously quick." She hummed lowly, narrowing her eyes at her friend.

Lyra huffed and avoided Daphne's narrowed glare, keeping her attention in front of her. "Because there's nothing to tell."

Daphne studied her for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. "This has something to do with Weasley, doesn't it?"

Lyra groaned. "For Merlin's sake."

"I knew it!" Daphne grinned triumphantly.

"There's nothing to know." Lyra shot back, her expression stern.

Daphne however, looked entirely too smug, and Lyra knew she wasn't going to hear the end of this anytime soon.

"Whatever you say," Daphne said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Lyra rolled her eyes as they entered the great hall to eat breakfast, but as they sat down Lyra barely spoke at all, and it wasn't like her to be this quiet, and her friends quickly noticed. Adrian had nudged her a few times, quirking an eyebrow, but she only offered a noncommittal shrug.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he studied her. "Alright, what's with the long face?" he asked, plucking a piece of toast from her plate before she could swat him away.

Lyra didn't respond right away as she eyed the brunette in front of her, before she simply sighed. "Shove off, Pucey."

Adrian rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat.

Pansy Parkinson, who sat a few seats away from her raised a perfectly shaped brow. "Merlin, are you sick?" she asked, feigning concern. "Because if you are, kindly move down the bench before you infect the rest of us."

"I'm not sick, Parkinson." Lyra spat back with a sharp voice, "but I'd gladly move if you want me to do."

Lyra noticed how Astoria uncomfortably shifted in her seat by the interaction, but choose to not comment on it.

"If you're not sick, then what's got you all broody?" Blaise Zabini chimed in as he rested his chin against the palm of his hand. His dark eyes flicked over her, studying her with that lazy smirk of his. "Did someone finally put you in your place?"

"Please," Adrian spoke out once again, still kind of sour from her previous comment, before she could answer. "No one's bested Arakan since third year. And that was only because Flint knocked her out of her broom during practice."

"Which was cheating, by the way," Lyra added absentmindedly, but her usual edge wasn't there, which made her friends exchange glances. They knew it wasn't like her to be this quiet, since she normally had a sharp remark for everything. She thrived on their banter and usually matched their energy effortlessly.

But this morning she was distracted.

"Alright, who do I have to hex?" Theodore Nott finally asked, stabbing his fork into his eggs. "Because whoever put you in this mood deserves to suffer."

"Nobody," Lyra said quickly as she crossed her arms over the table, hoping the conversation would end shortly.

"That was way too fast," Adrian pointed out.

"You've said enough." Lyra spat back, shooting him a glare.

Daphne's gaze flickered toward the Gryffindor table, and then back to Lyra. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. "Oh," she hummed. "I think I get it now."

Blaise's eyes sparkled with amusement. "This should be good."

Lyra sighed, rubbing her temple. "I swear, if any of you open your mouths."

"It's about Weasley, isn't it? It always is." Daphne cut in smoothly.

Lyra groaned, but before she could say anything back, Dumbledore finally stood, raising a hand to silence the murmuring students.

"Sit down, please," his voice echoed through the hall. "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, the champions' selection!"

"Yeah, hear that, focus on the tournament instead." Lyra scoffed as she turned slightly in her seat to get a better look of the professor.

The hall fell silent by the professors words, and suddenly everyones focus was on him, and him only.  The goblet, standing tall at the front of the room, flared suddenly with bright blue flames. A single slip of parchment fluttered into the air before Dumbledore plucked it between his fingers.

He held it up, reading the name.

"The Durmstrang champion is... Viktor Krum!"

The Durmstrang students erupted in cheers, clapping Krum on the back as he stood up, but his expression was quite unreadable but composed as he made his way to the front.

Lyra barely reacted. Krum was the obvious choice to no ones surprise. She watched intensely as he went up to the professor and shook his hand. She had to admit, he was handsome. He was the type of person who would kill for you, but wouldn't dare hurt a fly.

Lyra shook the thoughts away as the the Goblet glowed blue again, spitting out another name. Dumbledore caught it effortlessly, scanning the name before opening his mouth once more.

"The champion from Beauxbatons... Fleur Delacour!"

A chorus of cheers rose from the Beauxbatons table and all the girls were smiling proudly as Fleur elegantly stood and glided toward the front.

Then, the final name emerged from the flames, which would be the Hogwarts champion for the tournament.

"The Hogwarts champion... Cedric Diggory!"

All the tables, but the Hufflepuff table especially, exploded with applause, and Cedric, always the gentleman, smiled modestly as he stood up and went over to dumbledore to shake his hand.

Dumbledore smiled at the boy, before facing the crowd once more. "Excellent! We now have our three champions! But in the end, only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice of champions, this vessel of victory, the Triwizard Cup!"

The room broke into applause, but then, to Lyra and probably everyone else's surprise, the Goblet glowed blue yet again, and a shared hush fell over the hall as another slip of parchment shot into the air.

Dumbledore caught it, frowning slightly as he unfolded it, before his eyes skimmed the name.

"Harry Potter..."

Silence, before a ripple of confusion swept through the hall.

'Harry Potter?' Lyra thought silently to herself before speaking out loud. "What the fuck?"

The whispering started immediately. "He cheated," Adrian muttered beside her, voicing what most of the Slytherin table was already thinking.

Blaise snorted. "Obviously. No way the goblet would just accidentally put his name in."

Beside Harry, who was standing by the wall beside the slytherin table, stood Ron Weasley who was staring at Harry, wide eyed. Hermione looked equally stunned.

Hagrid shook his head. "No... No."

Dumbledore scanned the hall. "Harry Potter!"

Harry slowly rose, looking as bewildered and confused as everyone else around him. He looked like he wanted to wake up from a nightmare, but a harsh shove from Hermione Granger made him wake up to reality.

He made his way forward with his head down as the weight of a hundred stares pressing into him. The murmurs only grew as he made his way to the front.

"Why would he do that?" Lyra muttered under her breath, watching Harry disappear into the next room with the other champions. "He's not even of age."

Adrian scoffed. "Because he's Harry Potter. He can't not be in the center of attention, can he?"

Lyra didn't argue. She didn't particularly care if Potter had found some ridiculous way to cheat. What mattered now was that Hogwarts had two champions, which wasn't supposed to happen. Lyra turned back to her plate with her head filled with thoughts. How on earth could Harry Potter pass the age line by himself.

"So a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor attending the tournament. Slytherin being left out once again." Daphne shucked, resting her head against her hand. "Lyra, can you please ask Fred how, and why, Harry potter got in." She begged, clasping her hands together dramatically.

"And why would I do such a thing?" Lyra replied curiously, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

"Because, duh, we want to know how he did it, and you are the only one in our group that is actually close with a Gryffindor."

"I am not close with Fred." Lyra replied dully, a look of defeat plastered across her face.

"Still, you knew who I was talking about." Daphne smirked.

"I'm not dense, Daph."

Theo grinned. "You've been playing this thing with Weasley for years. Just get it over with already."

"There is nothing to get over with," Lyra snapped.

"Then why are you acting so weird?" Adrian pressed.

"I'm not acting weird!"

"You so are," Blaise drawled.

Lyra glared at all of them. "I hate you lot."

Daphne smirked. "You love us."

Instead of answering she stood abruptly, adjusting her uniform. "You lot will regret this when I wake up dead beneath the astronomy tower tomorrow."

And before her friends could press her further, she turned and strode off.

☆

Lyra hated skipping class.

Well, she claimed to hate skipping class but in reality, she didn't mind sneaking out of lessons when she felt like it. And today she felt like it. Sitting in transfiguration while Daphne was torturing her about Weasley wasn't exactly her definition of fun.

After walking, or rather storming out of the great hall, she wandered aimlessly through the corridors and made sure to avoid the usual patrol routes. She had no interest in sitting through McGonagall's Transfiguration lecture, pretending to care about vanishing spells when her mind was still stuck on everything else.

Angelina. Fred. The argument. The look he had given her in the corridor.

Bloody hell.

After killing some time, which meant walking around cluelessly, she finally headed to the library under the excuse of returning a few overdue books.

When she stepped inside the library, the air inside was cool and filled with the familiar scent of parchment and ink, and most importantly it was quiet.

It was that kind of comfortable silence, where you could only hear small whispers or the sound of turning pages.

Lyra scanned the bookshelves, looking for something to keep her mind occupied. As she walked down the shelves, she suddenly heard low and hushed, but just loud enough to carry across the bookshelves.

She recognised them immediately. This was the voices of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Lyra slowed her pace, her fingers still resting on the spine of a book she had been about to slide onto the shelf. Through a small gap in the shelf, she saw them.

They were by a shelf too, Hermione looking through the row of books while Ron was sitting on a desk.

"Yeah, it's like, since yesterday, he can't keep his hands off her. It's infuriating," Ron sighed.

Lyra blinked. Who were they talking about.

"I know," Hermione replied, sounding just as irritated. "She won't stop talking about him in the common room. I thought he had a thing for Lyra Arakan, though."

Lyra stiffened as she realised they were talking about her. Her fingers clenched by her side.

"Me too. Until he spent the entire summer shagging Angelina."

Her stomach twisted, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"But at the train, he seemed unusually aware of his surroundings," Ron continued. "And he wouldn't even touch Angelina in public."

There was silence, and Lyra could practically hear Hermione thinking, and for some reason she needed to know what she would say next.

"You don't think.."

"What, that he's still got a thing for Lyra?" Ron scoffed. "Doubt it. They hate each other."

"Do they, though?" Hermione challenged.

Lyra held her breath.

"He didn't even defend Angelina when Lyra beat her up last year," Hermione mused. "And George is always joking about them. I mean, come on, Ron. You've seen the way he looks at her when he thinks no one's paying attention."

Ron groaned. "Yeah, well, Fred's an idiot."

Lyra felt her chest tighten. Of course she had heard George joke about it before, hell, he even did it when she with them in class. And she had also noticed Fred watching her sometimes, like that one time in DADA, but most of the time she had always brushed it off.

It didn't mean anything, It actually couldn't. At this point Lyra knew she should walk away.

She should return to finding herself a book and sitting down in peace reading, she should turn around and pretend she had never heard any of this, but her feet remained firmly rooted to the floor as her heart was hammering against her ribcage as she strained to hear every word.

"Maybe he's using Angelina to get over Lyra?" Ron snickered.

A sharp smack echoed through the rows of bookshelves as Hermione slapped him with an old thick book.

"Don't say that," Hermione scolded in a hushed voice, her tone clipped with disapproval. "Poor Angelina spends most of her nights crying."

Ron let out a heavy sigh. "Well, Johnson could've handled it better than challenging the girl to a fight. Arakan, completely reckless, that one, I tell you."

"I don't think she's as reckless as she pretends to be," Hermione countered thoughtfully.

Lyra frowned slightly by the brunettes comment. Who was she to tell her what she is or isn't.

"Oh, don't believe everything you hear," Ron muttered, lowering his voice conspiratorially. Lyra could see the hesitation on his face before he opened his mouth once more, this time more quieter and husked.

"Fred told me and the others that her parents are proper Death Eaters. He saw them at the festival. Her mother is as mad as they get. Rumours say she's supposed to be in Azkaban, but she's been roaming free all this time at their manor. And her supposed uncle, don't even get me started..."

Lyra's entire body went rigid, and her breath caught in her throat, fingers trembling against the book she had forgotten she was holding.

Her ears rang. Not only did they know about her parents, but also her uncle.

"When did he say this? I must've missed it." Hermione muttered.

"Just last night after his argument with Angelina. He looked breathless as he walked into the common room, stressed even, like he had just done something he wasn't supposed to. Then he spilled everything."

"Seriously?" Hermione whispered, sounding almost hesitant, as though she wasn't sure she wanted the answer. "I thought her mother was... well, gone. I've only ever seen her dad, since he was at the festival but to think they were hiding away her Death Eater mother at home."

The words struck her harder than she thought they would.

She knew Fred knew about her parents, but she had always assumed that he would keep it to himself and that he would never be the type to spread that kind of information around, not now. But guess she was wrong.

And yet, here Ron was, repeating it like it was nothing more than some juicy bit of gossip.Her grip on the book tightened. Her chest burned with fury and betrayal. She wasn't sad, she was furious.

Fred had told them, and she felt sick.

The library felt smaller, suffocating even like the walls were closing in on her, like every whispered conversation around her was suddenly about her. She had to get out. Now.

Without a second thought, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library, her footsteps eerily silent against the stone floors. No one noticed. No one turned their heads.

Good.

Her breath was ragged as she stepped into the hallway, fists clenched at her sides, her mind reeling with possibilities. She had spent years tolerating Fred Weasley, putting up with his bull shit, his teasing, their endless back-and-forth. He got under her skin like no one else, but this?

This was different.

And if Fred wanted to play dirty, then fine, she had no problem playing dirtier. If he could use her parents against her, then she could do just the same. She just had to find him first.

As Lyra walked through the corridors, the weight of the conversation she'd overheard pressed on her like a suffocating grasp. Every word from Ron and Hermione echoed in her mind, each one sharper than the last.

Fred told them about her parents. The thought kept looping and replaying itself over and over again like a broken record. She was still trying to wrap her head around it, and how easily he had betrayed the little trust she had in him.

How he had casually spread something so personal, so dangerous, without even thinking twice.

Her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, blood trickling down her sleeve, but the anger bubbling inside her wasn't going anywhere. She could feel it simmering like a fire starting to burn hotter with every step.

The castle seemed to stretch on forever as the walls were closing in as she marched forward, the halls almost too quiet for her racing thoughts. Lyra had always prided herself on not letting small meaningless things get to her, on maintaining control.

But this? This was way different. It wasn't just about the stupid little fights, the playful banter, the rivalry that had existed between her and Fred for as long as she could remember.

This was personal.

And when she spotted him outside the Great Hall, her heart skipped a beat. He was standing with George and Lee, laughing like nothing in the world could bother him. She couldn't even look at George without seeing Fred, and that infuriated her more. They were too alike. Too careless.

Fred was always so confident and always acting like he could get away with anything. But this was unforgivable, and before she even realised what she was doing, she was already walking towards him. Her steps were quick and purposeful.

Fred turned just as she reached him, his usual grin plastered across his face. It faltered when he saw her expression, but Lyra didn't give him a second to recover. Without thinking, she shoved his chest with force.

Fred stumbled back, his brows furrowed in surprise. "What the,"

"I can't believe you," Lyra snapped, her voice low but shaking with fury. "You complete arse."

George and Lee exchanged uncomfortable glances, but neither moved. Fred, on the other hand, straightened up, his usual cocky smile fading into something guarded. "Well, good morning to you, too," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

His comment alone made Lyra shove him again, this time harder, before grabbing his arm, dragging him around the corner of the Great Hall. She didn't care who saw or heard. She was done being quiet about this.

Once they were out of sight from the others, Lyra turned on him, her chest heaving with the force of her breath. Her face was inches from his, her eyes burning with rage.

"I actually trusted you," she hissed. "I should've known better. I should've done something before you had the chance to."

Fred's expression flickered with confusion, but he was quick to recover. "What the hell are you on about?"

Lyra didn't let him off the hook. "Don't play dumb, Weasley. You told your silly gryffindor friends about my parents."

For a second, there was a flash of guilt in his eyes but it was gone in an instant, replaced by something far more infuriating, which was defensiveness, probably his only coping mechanism. "I didn't,"

"Oh, but you did," Lyra interrupted, her voice cold and cutting as a humourless chuckle escaped her lips.

"Ron and Hermione, they know. Your other Gryffindor friends, they know." She clenched her fists at her sides and she felt her nails digging into her skin.

"You of all people should know how dangerous and how stupid it is. Do you know what could happen to me if the headmasters found out. If the fucking ministry found out my mom isn't actually in Azkaban."

Fred's jaw clenched as his eyes darkened, but there was a small hint of guilt in his voice. "I didn't mean for-"

"I don't care what you meant!" she spat, her words slicing through the air. "You had no right to share that. It wasn't yours to share."

Fred took a step back as he ran a hand through his messy hair. He exhaled slowly, his usual calm demeanour faltering for just a moment. "Look, Lyra.."

"No, it's still Arakan for you," she cut him off, shaking her head. "I'm done, Fred. I'm done with all of it. The bickering, the teasing, the whatever this is. I am done with all of it."

He stared at her as he searched her face for something, anything that might tell him she didn't mean it, but there was nothing. She held his gaze, her eyes hard as steel.

Fred's brows furrowed as his face twisted in frustration. "And what exactly is this, Lyra?" His voice was quieter now, more uncertain but the hurt was still there, lurking beneath the annoyance.

She inhaled sharply, taking a steadying breath. "A waste of time," she said, her voice colder than before. "You are a waste of time."

For a brief moment, she thought she saw something in his eyes that resembled a flicker of regret or maybe shock. But she refused to entertain it. She wouldn't let him soften her resolve.

Fred let out a dry, humourless laugh, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Right, then."

"Right." She stood tall, her spine straightening, her heart pounding in her chest.

He didn't say anything else. He didn't have to. The silence stretched between them, thick and final.

Lyra felt her heart race in her chest. The frustration and the anger, everything was rising to the surface, and then, without thinking the words spilled out.

"And I know about you and Angelina," she spat suddenly, her voice cold, cutting. "That shit you pulled the other night. You were just messing with me."

Fred's eyes snapped to hers as his brows furrowed in disbelief. "What?  What the hell are you talking about?" His tone was defensive and his arrogance still seeping through before he opened his mouth once again to finish his sentence.

"Don't act like I did anything wrong. It was you who just happened to walk into the middle of a heated argument, what did you expect? Me and Angelina have already made up, so don't worry about what happened last night."

His words were like a slap to the face but Lyra refused to back down. She wasn't going to let him twist this and let him make her feel like she was the crazy one. She bit her lip before she answered, picking out her words carefully.

"Do you actually like her?" Lyra's voice was cold, but there was something in the question that caught him off guard.

Fred hesitated and his gaze shifting away for a split second before meeting hers again. "Of course," he said, his voice a little too flat, a little too unsure, but still carrying that edge of cockyness.

Lyra narrowed her eyes, her frustration clear as day. "Good," she simply said, her voice icy. "Then do your girlfriend a favour, and leave me the fuck alone."

For a moment Fred just stood there with his mouth slightly agape and his eyes blinking. The words had hit harder than he expected, and it seemed to momentarily knock him off balance.

"You think I've been the one messing around?" He said after a beat while running a hand through his messy hair, his voice rising with frustration. "You think this is about Angelina? You think I'm the one who's been playing some stupid game? You don't get it, Lyra."

"Then explain it to me," she shot back, voice thick with contempt.

Fred stared at her, his jaw clenched, before he exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. "For fuck's sake," he muttered, his voice low and filled with exasperation. "No, I don't fancy her, alright? But that doesn't mean I don't care about her. She's is my friend."

Lyra raised an eyebrow at him with an awaiting expression written on her face. "Right. So you've been hanging around her and playing these stupid games with me, for what, exactly?"

Fred's eyes flickered with frustration as he let out a humourless chuckle, slightly pacing around. "You don't get it, Lyra. I don't even need to explain myself right now, but you're so fucking insufferable, and I can't stand it, but that's the thing. I can't stop thinking about you. I don't even know why."

His words stopped her in her tracks and Lyra blinked while the shock and confusion setting in. Fred seemed to notice her hesitation and kept talking, voice shaking with something between anger and something else.

"I don't fucking fancy Angelina, alright? But don't fancy you either, but it's like. God, you've got this hold on me, Lyra."

"Don't call me that,"

"You're always on my mind, Lyra, and I can't escape it. And it's driving me crazy."

Lyra opened her mouth to say something, but he was already talking again, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"You're everything that everyone talks about. You're so fucking interesting, so fucking unpredictable, but god, you're irritating as hell. And it's like, it's like I can't decide if I want to punch you in the face or kiss you, and that makes it so much worse."

He stepped closer to her, his voice dropping to a near whimper. "You're like this puzzle I can't figure out, and it's just, so fucking frustrating, but I can't stop. You make me feel things, and I don't want to feel them."

Lyra stood frozen as her mind spun from everything he'd just said. The words were raw and vulnerable, and it was the first time she'd ever heard him speak like this, like he was actually, genuinely, out of control.

Fred's expression softened, the fire in his eyes burning out just a little as he stared down at her with furrowed eyebrows. "You have no idea what effect you have on me, do you?"

Lyra opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was still trying to process the rush of emotions in her chest, anger, confusion, disbelief and something else.

Before she could respond, a voice broke the silence. It was soft and trembling, almost pleading as it spoke, and it sent a chill down her spine.

"Fred, what is going on?"

Angelina fucking Johnson.

☆☆☆