Chapter Text
Harry’s fingers tapped nervously against his knee, watching Lyra from the corner of his eye as she sat in perfect silence, hers neatly folded in her lap. They weren’t able to go far, not if they wanted to get back for the memorial feast in time. With Harry in the lead, he took them to the Defense classroom, knowing that their former professor wouldn’t be returning to it. They passed Moody’s (Crouch’s?) office, where a massive gaping hole with debris still sat patiently waiting for someone to come fix it.
“That’s where—” Harry asked, pointing it out on their way in.
“Where Winky blew all those aurors away? Yeah.”
With class no longer in session, all chairs had been cleared away leaving just the tables behind. They pulled down two seats from one of the stacks, placing them at a table closest to the window, facing forward as if everything was still in order.
The silence between them was thick. She’d tried earlier, once they were alone in the classroom, to reach over and check him for injury, but he’d flinched from the touch. Her hand fell back, and he cursed himself for making her think it was because she’d scared him by reaching out, but didn’t correct her assumption by saying it was her touch specifically he didn’t want.
“I’m fine,” he said simply instead, shrugging her and it off. “No physical damage.”
“I thought I saw blood when you came back—"
“That was from where Pettigrew drew blood, it wasn’t so bad. Fawkes healed that up. That’s Dumbledore’s phoenix. I’m in perfect healthy now.”
Though this comforted her, he’d made it awkward by denying her the right to check for herself. The show of concern should have been a comfort, a sign things weren’t nearly as bad as he’d made them out in his head, but it only made him feel worse, knowing the conversation they were about to have.
The two sat in that tense silence long enough it felt like they’d never actually talk, until Lyra broke it by saying, “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Harry swallowed thickly, and nodded, figuring there was no point denying it. “Yeah, I sorta have.”
She was taken off guard, and must not have expected him to agree to it so easily, jumping to say, “It’s alright! I understand why you have—”
“I’ve just wanted to give you your space, that’s all—”
“I know I’m a lot right now,” she plowed on, “I’ve been a real mess since that day.”
“Of course you are—” Harry winced, kicking himself. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like—”
“I’d be no comfort at all, and you’ve been through a lot. You need someone who’s more put together right now, I understand—”
“It’s not that,” he cut in strongly, putting an end to what was spiraling into a battle of out-explaining one another. “It’s not that you’re upset. That be a real arsehole reason to avoid someone. I just don’t want to be the one upsetting you.”
“You? Why would you think you’d upset me?” she asked, large eyes blinking at him in confusion.
Harry’s fingers dug into the skin of his palms as his fists clenched. “I know you want to know what happened, and when you ask, I’m going to tell you.” Eyes stinging, he glared a hole into the table they sat at, unable to look at her expression as he spoke. “And when I do, you’re going to find out I’m the reason he’s dead, Lyra.”
She pulled back, shocked by the statement. “I don’t believe that Harry.”
“It’s the truth. It’s my fault that your friend is dead,” his voice quivered, feeling tears start to come up. He held them back. He had no right, no right to cry to her of all people about this. She was the one who lost a friend, it was his fault that Cedric wasn’t here right now.
“Harry, my father told me it was Peter Pettegrew that killed him.” Lyra leaned onto the table, trying to catch his eye, which he refused to give. “On You-Know-Who’s order.”
“And he’d never have had the chance if it wasn’t for me,” Harry stressed. “I led him straight to his death.” He chanced a look at her and regretted it, looking back away just as fast. She’d still had those big, sad disbelieving eyes of hers on. It hurt to have them on him, pitying him and worrying about him, and impossible to stare back into while he broke her heart even further.
She didn’t say anything more, didn’t even prompt him to continue. Just waited patiently for him to explain himself. Swallowing his doubts, he started. “We found one another in the maze. We had reached the cup at the same time, and it was unclear who technically got to it first. I was sure it had been Cedric, and I tried to tell him as much, but he didn’t think he’d earned it. So, we began to argue with one another, neither one of us willing to take it for ourselves.”
He could still see Cedric turning back around towards him, just feet from the cup, could feel echos of frustration when he wouldn’t just take it. How stupid he’d been to insist on it as much as he had.
Harry took a shutting breath, trying to get the image out of his head. “I was the one who suggested we take it together. I thought, ‘If he won’t just take it, why couldn’t we just share the win’?” Harry’s shrug was more like a twitch. “I had figured the champion would be from Hogwards regardless, so it seemed like a good compromise.”
The thought had came to him like some great revelation. It felt like the fairest thing to do, considering Cedric’s unwillingness to just take the thing. Everybody had told him he’d stolen the spotlight from him when his name was pulled. They could have their champion, and for Harry it could all just be over.
“The cup wasn’t normal though and the game didn’t stop when we grabbed it. It had been turned into a portkey, and when we touched it, it transported us away from Hogwarts, to the graveyard Tom Riddle’s father had been buried in. We figured something was wrong as soon as we got there, so we drew our wands. Then my scar started to hurt…” his hand reached up to brush it, feeling the ghost of its sting. “The feeling knocked me to the ground. It was the strongest I’ve ever felt it. Then…Voldemort gave the order, and Cedric dropped to the ground and-and he was gone. I turned around, and he was—his eyes were— he was dead.”
His view went fuzzy and he felt the welling of tears in his eyes that gathered along his lashline as he stared downward. He remembered the thud, turning around to find Cedric spread across the ground. He remembered the look of surprise on his cold dead face, the immediate understanding that he was gone. How quickly he had to forget about that and face the danger right in front of him. He wasn’t even given a second to properly despair for him.
Harry had messed up. Everyone knew he attracted danger, and this time he’d dragged Cedric into it with him.
“Don’t you see, Lyra? It’s my fault he’s dead.”
He reached up to wipe away the tears with his sleeve. They began to gather at such a volume he felt they weren’t going to stop once they really got started. Through the blur, he could see her body shaking as she began to cry as well.
With the third pass of his sleeve, he could see her clearer. Lyra was shaking her head, her face open and sorrowful. Her voice shook dreadfully as she said, “That’s not true.”
“It is. Lyra, it’s my fault.” His voice cracked on the word. “He wouldn’t have even been there if it wasn’t for me. I pushed him there.”
He flinched again as she reached out, but unlike last time she didn’t pull back and her grip on his wrist was gentle. “It’s not your fault. This isn’t on you.”
“Did you not hear a word I said?” He’d meant to snap it, but it came out more like a pitiful croak. “It was my idea to take the portkey together. I told him to do it with me. If I had just taken it like he told me to, I would have gone to the graveyard alone, and no one else would have had to have been hurt.”
“You didn’t know it was a portkey. And all that would have accomplished Harry is that I’d be sitting her with Cedric, telling him it wasn’t his fault for sending you there.”
“But he’d be alive!” He was beginning to feel hysterical, the pounding in his chest and head affecting his speech as he wobbled through his explanation. “A-and then when my scar began to hurt—I could have told him to run! I knew who was responsible for it acting up, and I didn’t even try to warn him! If he had known, he could have run or gotten away somehow, but I took even that possibility from him. I had so many chances to keep him from dying, Lyra. The only person Voldemort wanted there was me. If it hadn’t been for me, Cedric would still be alive!”
“Harry,” she said, the steadiness of it forcing him out of his head and to focus on her. She still had active tears running down her cheeks, but her expression was resolute, stronger than he’d expected from her after hearing that. Her hand squeezed his tightly. “I know you. I know you would have given your life if it would have saved Cedric’s. Anyone’s, for that matter. You’re recklessly self-sacrificing like that Harry. If there was something you could have done, you would have done it.”
The calm in her voice helped to slow the heaving of his chest. “I don’t like people getting hurt because of me.” He’d said it, both as an explanation for his recklessness and his guilt.
“I know that.” Her head tilted to be sure she still had his eyes, that the message was getting across. “And I know Cedric. I know that if he had to choose between you or him dying, that this is how he’d prefer it. Even if he had known what the cup really was and what was going to happen, he’d have gone with you so you wouldn’t have to face it alone.”
“But he didn’t know any of that. And once we were there—”
“Once he entered that graveyard, Cedric never stood a chance and there is nothing you could have done to save him.” This was said without room for argument. “You-Know-Who and his followers are extremely dangerous. They have killed some of the most powerful witches and wizards in their time. The both of you were already on guard, and they still got the upperhand. You-Know-Who wanted you alone without allies when he faced you, so he took the one you had away. Harry, look at me,” she commanded as he turned his head away, feeling overwhelmed. She waited for him to look back at her. “There was nothing that could have saved him once he decided that. Not even you. You are not at fault.”
“But I escaped,” he said softly. “If I made it out, surrounded by Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort, why not him too? I got myself out, I should have been able to get him out too.”
Lyra gave him a pitying look. “I know that you are very capable and talented, but from my understanding of what happened, Harry…you got lucky. Circumstance was on your side, and it just…wasn’t for Cedric. That doesn’t make you responsible.”
“It’s feels like it does. Like none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me. Just me being in the tournament made it dangerous for everybody.”
“Nothing since the beginning of this tournament has been within your control. Your name being pulled was just a ploy to get you to that graveyard. You didn’t choose to be a part of it and you didn’t know that the cup was a portkey. You thought you were winning, that you were sharing that with him.”
For as much as he’d been worrying over it, thinking over what he was going to say, he hadn’t expected this easy sort of acceptance from her. It unbalanced him more than if she had been upset with him, just how sure she was of the fact that this wasn’t his fault. “You don’t blame me?” He stared at her, trying to search for any sign of doubt, but she was all gray eyed certainty and sympathetic frowns. “For any of it?”
“Of course I don’t, Harry. How could you be to blame for any of this? You did nothing wrong.”
“I had thought—” he had thought she’d finally found it, the thing that she could actually blame him for. The proof she’d been right at the beginning of the year to hate him and keep her distance. “You didn’t say anything to me in the hospital wing.”
He regretted how that came out as an accusation, as her face fell. “I should have,” she admitted timidly, her earlier surety giving way to her own insecurities. “You’re right, I should have came over to check on you—”
“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. It’s just that having not talked at all, I wasn’t really sure where we stood is all.”
“I was falling apart and I was taking up too much space, and you’d just been through hell.” Her face was crumpling again. “I didn’t want to go up to you and make things worse than they already were by dumping all of that on you. You needed people around you who could be strong and I wasn’t being strong. And there was already all these people around you who could actually help you, and I thought they had you taken care of—”
“I’m not trying to blame you, I’m sorry that sounded like I was.” He swallowed. He stared down at her hand on his as he spoke, both the sight and feeling grounding him. “I’ve just been…scared. About losing you as a friend. Things have been really good between us lately. I didn’t want to go back to the way it was before all that.”
He didn’t want to go back to chasing her down the halls, begging for her to give him just one moment. He didn’t want her to look at him the way she had again, like he was a nuisance, he liked how she looked at him now. Softly, with that faint smile on her lips he’d finally started to notice was there. He didn’t want that to be just one more thing he’d lost coming out of the maze.
She seemed to understand all of this without him having to say it, and looked regretful of the fact. “I was worried about you, Harry, I promise that I was,” she said. “I’m sorry that me not saying anything to you that night made you think I wasn’t.”
One of her hands reached up and carefully placed itself on his cheek. Immediately, he leaned into it, shocked and a tad bit embarrassed by his own reaction. She just cressed the ball of his cheek with her thumb, soothing the tears left there away.
“And I’m sorry,” she said in a heartbroken whisper. “That the way I behaved at the start of the year made you think I’d ever blame you for this. I’m sorry I ever acted so stupid and cruel so undeservingly.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not, because I made you think that I’d hold you at fault for this.” Her other hand came up as well. “Harry, the only ones responsible are Voldemort and his supporters. The only people I hate in this situation are them. They killed Cedric, they nearly took you from me.”
Maybe it was because she’d had a few days to digest it, or maybe Hermione had been working on her without telling him. She didn’t seem to need the extra convincing that the minister had. “You believe me, then? That Voldemort is back?”
“Of course I do,” she said honestly and without hesitation. “I don’t doubt you for a second.” She leaned in closer. “You can’t blame yourself for surviving when Cedric didn’t, Harry.”
For whatever reason, that was what broke him. He began to cry again, openly, his entire body shaking with his relief. His face fell heavier into her hands, and she held it just long enough so she could wrap her arms around him in a hug, holding him close. Harry reciprocated it, face burrowing into the crook of her neck.
It had been exactly what he needed to hear. Exactly what he thought he didn’t deserve. His friends, Sirius, Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley, they’d all said the same. But coming from her mouth, the one person who’d actually lost something in all of this, he finally believed it. Harry had been feeling so alone. Even though his friends rallied around him, supported him, no one could understand how he felt. The loss after loss, running a race several hundred feet from the starting line. They could grieve for him, but never with him. They could never understand.
Lyra could though, just a little. She could stand here in this grief with him, because Cedric had been her friend, and his death devastated her in a way similar to Harry. He didn’t feel alone in this pain. Their sobs wracked together, and their arms clung just as tight as the others. Her hands gripping tightly into his robes held him together just as much as his arms around her did.
He wasn’t alone. Not with her.
As both their cries faded, and they leaned into one another, Harry felt the desperate need to keep this precious thing to him as safe as he could, to let this be the last bad thing to ever happen to her. Dread spiked in him again, remembering Lucius Malfoy turning up to the cemetery, his declaration of loyalty. His hands curled almost possessively around around her.
“Your uncle was there,” he said into her ear. He hadn’t meant to bring it up now, but as he held onto her for dear life, he couldn’t stop himself. The thought of her being anywhere near him sent blood rushing through his head. He felt her stiffen under his touch. “He came when Voldemort called.”
“He was at the cemetery?”
“Yes. After Voldemort got his body back, he summoned the Death Eaters, and he came. He’s on their side.” Believe me. If you believe me about Voldemort, believe me that he is dangerous and you aren’t safe. “You can’t go back there this summer, Lyra. If he found out you were in contact with Sirius, he would hurt you.”
There was no reaction from her, their embrace making it impossible to see her face. He thought maybe he didn’t actually say it at all, but then he felt her nod. “Okay. I understand.”
“I mean it, you can’t go back. I’ll do whatever I can. If I have to sneak you into the Dursleys, I will.”
There was the press of a faint smile against the skin of his neck. “With how positively you’ve spoken about them? I think I’d rather we just run off for the summer and find a bridge to sleep under.”
“That does sound significantly more inviting than the Dursleys.”
There was a faint chime of the clocktower, signaling it was nearly time for Cedric’s memorial service.
“We had better get back,” Lyra said. “I can’t miss this.”
He helped her up to a standing position, waiting patiently as she straightened her robes and hair before leading her out. They walked past the hole once more, and Harry asked, “Do you think they’ll have it fixed before next year?”
“I imagine they’ll have to.” She wrapped her arm around his again, so they could walk closely side by side. “But, maybe not. They haven’t fixed the hole in the Astronomy tower yet either.”
“We’ll be lucky if this school stays standing till we graduate,” he grumbled.
They were the last two to enter the Hall, sneaking in quietly to avoid disturbing anyone. The students were split up by their houses, sitting where they would typically sit for meals, the visiting schools sitting tightly with one another at the table’s they’d adopted. The hall was full of sniffling and crying, otherwise silent and waiting for their headmaster to start as he stood at the podium.
Lyra stood frozen right inside the entrance, unable to move to her seat. Despite her earlier words about needing to be here, it looked like she was seconds from bolting away. Her face began to collapse again, and Harry reached out, directing her. He pulled her to the side, positioning them along the back wall of the hall.
“We’ll stay here for the speech,” he whispered to her. “And once that’s done, we can go. Think you can make it that long?” She nodded, free hand reaching up to brush away her tears.
Dumbledore watched them, waiting for their attention solemnly, before taking a deep breath and starting.
“The end of another year.” His eyes scanned the crowd. “There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured toward the Hufflepuff table, where a seat had been left open for their missing housemate, “enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory.”
The entirety of the hall stood, taking up their glasses and together calling out his name: “Cedric Diggory.”
As the cups came down, Dumbledore continued. “Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff House. He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.” Harry stiffened where they stood at the back of the hall, and Lyra’s head lifted as he said, “Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”
Panicked whispers swept across the Great Hall, and Lyra looked to him as they did. While it was the truth, neither had expected him to say so here and now while everyone was still confused and mourning. Dumbledore was unremorseful of this statement though, not even as some of the whispers turned doubtful.
“The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.”
There were more whispers, stronger now at the Slytherin table. Crabbe and Goyle whispered into Malfoy’s ear. He said nothing back to them, simply staring forward at the Headmaster, arms crossed and waiting.
“There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric’s death. I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.” Heads turned to look for him at the Gryffindor table, and wobbled confusedly when they didn’t find him there. Some eyes followed Dumbledore’s to where they stood at the back, but most never found him. “Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric’s body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him.”
He raised his goblet once more, the student body doing the same, though there were less hands this time. Most of the defiant students were Slytherins. And this didn’t bother Harry, not in the slightest. Malfoy’s stare had turned now, his being one of the few to find him. His eyes were cold, unreadable, and they darted between him and Lyra and where their hands connected. If he disapproved, which he must have, he said and did nothing, not even trying to grab her attention or wave her away. Lyra sniffled beside him, not noticing any of it.
Next the headmaster looked over the visiting students. “Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.”
To keep from crying any louder, one of Lyra’s hands went to her mouth to cover her sobs. Her head bent down, folding in on herself. The hand gripping his was impossibly tight, and he realized throughout this entire speech, he’d been gripping back just as much.
“Remember Cedric. Remember if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”
The hall dissolved into murmurs, whispers and declerations of his name. When Dumbledore turned to walk away from the podium, and students returned to sitting in their seats, Harry leaned down to whisper to Lyra, “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”
She nodded, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, the both of them walking out and away from the darkened hall.
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They stuck close to one another as they moved to depart Hogwarts. While everyone said their goodbyes and made promises to stay in touch, they only strayed to do so themselves. Lyra was glad Kit was on her best behavior and had no comment about it. She was remarkably silent as Harry hovered, even when Ginny wasn’t distracting her.
She shared a long hug with both Mattie and Fallon, both of whom she hadn’t seen much of the last couple of days besides quick check ins to be sure everyone was still breathing. Their parting was brief, a bit awkward even, and it placed some doubt in her mind about where their relationships were heading now that their glue was gone. The truth had always been that Cedric was their common denominator. Not even Mattie reaching over to ruffle her hair as they parted, attempting to give her a comforting smile and saying, “See you next year, Kiddo,” put her at ease. It was flat, and so was his smile.
Marie held Puddlewhump in her hands as they waited for the train to come. Kit was off saying goodbye to Ginny, Harry standing with Ron as Hermione said goodbye to Viktor Krum, leaving the two of them to stand alone together. She stroked a finger over his crown as she looked up at Lyra. “He’s ready,” she told her, handing him off. The little ferret stood up on his hind legs, pawing at her chest, attempting to climb up around her neck to hide in her hair. “He took to the harness after a while, and should be capable of carrying a good couple of inches of parchment.”
“The real test will be when I send word tonight,” Lyra said, giving him a foothold to step up. He quickly curled himself around her neck, giving her hair a sniff and a tug as he moved into position.
“Dad says he’s completely on board with the plan, but he hasn’t heard anything back about the letter he sent asking if you could come stay with us,” Marie said. “Maybe they’re still thinking it over. Have you heard anything about it from them?”
“Not a peep. They’re probably ignoring it,” Lyra said, reaching up to give Puds a scratch. “I figured I’d need to talk them around anyhow.”
“And you think you’ll get them to agree?”
“No.” Lyra shrugged. “Hardly matters whether they do or don’t though, does it?”
Marie bit her lip. “Just be careful, please? You know I want you out of there too, but after all this…I don’t want you getting yourself hurt in the process, is all.”
“I think we’re just going to have to accept that me getting out isn’t going to be painless, Marie.”
Her friend looked like she wanted to argue, take it all back, but they both knew it was the truth. By untangling herself from the Malfoys, a few hairs were bound to get pulled. She’d be lucky if it didn’t end up being her entire scalp.
She watched as Harry and his two friends spoke with Krum. He’d seemed better since their conversation in the Defense classroom. Not fully healed from the internal wounds he’d received, but healing. As the quidditch star spoke with Ron Weasley, Harry looked over, catching her eye. He tapped Hermione’s elbow as Krum departed, motioning them to follow him over to where she stood.
“‘Bout time to go,” he said, settling Hedwig in his cage. He caught sight of someone over her head, face losing a bit of its luster, but pointing out. “Arnaud is over there if you want to say goodbye.”
Lyra peaked just barely over her shoulder, and yes, there Arnaud was with his friends. She didn’t look at him directly, but could feel his heavy stare on her. He’d made only a few attempts in the last few days to contact her, not enough to be overwhelming. Whether he wanted to talk about them, or give his condolences, she wasn’t sure, but she suspected it was the latter that kept him from chasing her down.
Harry looked between them, growing more confused with each pass. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye to your boyfriend?”
It was a shock to her system, hearing Harry call him that. Arnaud had been so far out of her mind these last few days their relationship felt like a distant memory. It felt like they’d been broken up for ages now, even though it hadn’t been long at all. “Arnaud and I broke up.”
His eyebrows rose, though he didn’t appear remorseful as he said, “I’m sorry, Lyra. He’s an idiot—”
“I broke up with him, actually.”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, and maybe she should have been offended at that. He shook that off, clearing his throat. “Shame.” Was she mistaken, or was that a hint of pleasure in his voice. “For him, that is. You guys seemed to really like each other. What happened?”
“Just too similar, in the end. It’s no good, being that alike.”
“Aren’t you supposed to have things in common with your significant other?”
“Not the sort of things we broke up for, no.”
Harry didn’t question her as to what things those were, as the train had finally arrived. “You guys want to find a compartment with us? We’d all fit into one.”
Kit ran up to catch them as they all jumped on together. Hermione found them a compartment all to themselves, and they got settled in waiting for it to take off.
As they traveled away, things began to feel just that little bit lighter, like the distance between them and the castle was putting distance from everything that had happened. Lyra had to remind herself that nothing was truly over, and not to allow herself to relax too much before arriving home.
When the trolly arrived, Hermione and Marie both stood up to grab some snacks. Marie was handing her a chocolate frog when Hermione said, “There’s nothing in there.” She had said this to Harry, and handed him a copy of the Daily Prophet. “You can look for yourself, but there’s nothing at all. I’ve been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn’t even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet.”
“He’ll never keep Rita quiet,” Harry said, checking the paper over himself to be sure. “Not on a story like this.”
“Oh Rita hasn’t written anything at all since the third task.” If Lyra correctly interpreted that tone, she was both nervous and proud about something and trying to hide it. “As a matter of fact, Rita Skeeter isn’t going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her.”
Kit’s brows knitted. “That is a pretty ominous thing to say, ‘Mione.”
“Yeah, what are you talking about?” Ron asked, sitting forward.
“I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn’t supposed to be coming onto the grounds.”
“How was she doing it?” Harry prompted.
“Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea Harry.”
“Did I? How?”
“Bugging.”
“Like spyware?” Kit asked.
Harry nodded at her and turned back to Hermione. “But you said they didn’t work—”
“Oh not electronic bugs. No, you see…Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn—” She reached down into her bag, pulling out a sealed glass jar. “—into a beatle.”
Marie squealed, reaching out to snag the jar before it made it to Harry, her first real sign of life. She gave it a good shake just to watch the creature inside flutter its wings.
“You’re kidding,” said Ron. “You haven’t…she’s not…”
“Oh yes she is,” Hermione said proudly.
“That’s never—you’re kidding—” Ron leaned in close to look. Marie popped over to the other bench to sit beside him so they could both look in on her.
“No, I’m not.” There was definitely pride in her voice now. “I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you’ll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears.”
“Incredible,” Marie gushed, like that wasn’t actually a lady in there. “She’s right, look at the markings. I didn’t realize animagus could carry over those sorts of features when they transformed.”
“I’d almost be impressed if you weren’t such a nasty bitch,” Kit said to Skeeter, leaning in near to the jar so she could hear her. “The way you could have used that for good and haven’t is sickening.”
“There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!”
“Exactly! And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we’d had our conversation by the lake. And unless I’m very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt. She’s been buzzing around for stories all year.”
Hermione took the jar back, placing it in her backpack. “I’ve told her I’ll let her out when we get back to London. I’ve put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar you see, so she can’t transform. And I’ve told her she’s to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can’t break the habit of writing horrible lies about people.”
“How many days have you had her in there?”
“...hm?”
Kit perhaps looked the most disturbed out of all of them at the lack of an answer. She leaned over and whispered to Lyra, “Has she always been this scary?”
Lyra leaned back, smirking. “Maybe you should think twice before messing with her from now on.”
☾☾☾☾☾☀☽☽☽☽☽
Malfoy waited till Harry left the compartment to visit the bathroom, till they were completely alone in the corridor, to confront him. That’s how he knew right off the bat how serious he was.
“You need to leave my cousin alone.” That’s all he said. No insults, no taunts. One simple command.
Harry had expected this. Malfoy had been acting abnormally for him, not harassing or taunting Harry, even at his lowest when he made for an easy target. He knew better than to assume it was because he realized that it would be taking it a step too far. And after the memorial feast, with the way he stared him and Lyra down, he knew whatever confrontation they had would not be one of their normal ones. Harry had been avoiding this at all costs, hoping to make it off the train without having to deal with it, yet somehow still ended up trapped and cornered by Malfoy, who stared at him with a feral fury that had an already on edge Harry ready to fight.
At Malfoy’s words, Harry for once debated what to say and ended up settling on a simple, “No.”
“I mean it, Potter.” Malfoy advanced. “You’re playing some game here, and you’re going to leave Lyra out of it. Otherwise, you’re going to regret it.”
“Lyra makes her own choices. You don’t control her.”
“I’m not controlling her, I’m looking out for her,” he spit. “That’s what family does. You wouldn’t know that though, you don’t have one. If anything, you’re manipulating her. I just don’t know why.”
“I’m manipulating Lyra by being her friend?” Harry scoffed. “Have you ever had a real friend before, Malfoy? And I’m not talking about your lackeys, I’m talking about a real friend. Typically, they are someone you are nice to, and in return they are nice back. They’re someone you watch out for. Sort of like family, only you get to choose them.”
“I mean it, Potter. You started a war, and I’m not going to let her get dragged down with you and your side. She can still get out of this if you just leave her alone.”
It wasn’t anger in Malfoy’s eyes, Harry found. It was fear. He was scared. And Harry remembered what he had been like in second year after Lyra had been petrified, and he slunk around the halls and classrooms. If there was a Malfoy that did care about Lyra even a little, it would be Draco. And still, that wasn’t enough for Harry to be convinced.
“If anyone’s dragging her down, Malfoy, it’d be your family,” Harry said. “She’s not like you. She actually cares about people other than herself. You want her to turn on her friends, for what? Don’t blame me for her wanting more from her life then what she’s getting with your family.”
“Is this because of what her father did to yours?” he asked hysterically. Harry was confused for a second before realizing he must not know the truth. The actual truth that Sirius was framed. Which didn’t make much sense, as according to Lyra, both her aunt and uncle had always known. “Because that’s no reason to be doing this. If it’s payback, you’ll find you’re out of your depths, Potter. Trust me, no amount of satisfaction in hurting her will be worth what I’ll do to you. She’s had it bad enough. She just lost a friend—”
“Thanks to the work of your father and his fellow Death Eaters,” Harry bit, all teeth. “Cedric Diggory is dead because of those still in support of Voldemort. That means people like your father. Don’t be mistaken, the pain she’s in right now is because of your lot, not me.”
When Draco swung on him, Harry only had a second to doge. “How dare you!” he snarled.
The attack had sent a shock of adrenaline through Harry’s system. Breath going ragged, he chose to taunt. “It’s the truth. Lyra’s friend is dead because of people like your father. And Lyra sees that too!”
“Stay away from my cousin!”
“No!”
Draco made to shove him again, hands landing a blow that pushed Harry up against the wall. “Leave her alone!”
“No, I won’t!” Harry shoved him back. “Because this isn’t some game, or plot for revenge. Lyra is my friend, and she deserves better. Better than this misery your parents are giving her. I’m going to make sure she gets that.”
“Misery?! What misery?! Lyra has a great life with us, do you know what it was like for her before we took her in! The way her grandmother and great aunt treated her? We gave her a real family, and you plan on ruining all of that the same way your father ruined hers. Lyra has a real chance of being fully accepted by society with us, of not being viewed equal to us. You want her to give up her life, station, stability and for what? To be another one of your groupies? I’m not going to let you ruin her life!”
“Are you even listening to yourself!?” Harry yelled. “You want to change and lie about who she really is just so she fits into a life she doesn’t even want! Lyra is choosing to walk away. She’s choosing to leave you.” Harry got close. “How does it feel to not be enough to stick around for, Malfoy?”
Malfoy leaped to grab at him again, but was picked up and thrown by two pairs of arms that appeared without much warning. Fred and George stood between Harry and him, both brandishing their wands. “Try and come at Harry again, and we’ll jinx you to hell and back,” George growled, his eyes begging for him to try.
Malfoy stood, face red as he puffed in anger. Without Crabbe and Goyle though, he was solidly outmatched. It didn’t stop him from mouthing off and saying, “Last warning,” he said over the twins’ shoulders to Harry, pretending they weren’t there just to sound tough. His voice was as cold as ice. “Leave my cousin alone, or I will make things bad for you. Everything before this has just been games, Potter. But this is my family you’re messing with.”
“Piss off, Malfoy.”
He glared at each of the twins, both of their grips growing tighter on their wands, but he did start to walk away. As he did, Harry couldn’t help but call out, “I’m not letting your father hurt her.”
He paused. “My father would never hurt Lyra.”
“He already has.”
Draco didn’t look back, didn’t say anything more, just walked away. Only once he was out of sight did the twins put away their wands.
“You alright, Harry?” Fred asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Typical Malfoy bullshit,” George scoffed, not looking any less worked up. “You know, Fred, probably isn’t too late to go catch up to and hex him.”
It hadn’t been typical Malfoy though. The both of them escorted Harry back to his compartment, deciding they’d join them for a bit, and on the way back, Harry thought about how an unpredictable Malfoy could be an even more dangerous one.
✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶✶
When Harry had returned to their compartment, he’d done so with the Weasley twins, who ignored her and she did so back. “Everything alright?” she asked Harry, noticing how tense all three were.
Harry nodded, brushing off her concerns, before accepting the twins’ offer for a round of exploding snaps. Kit joined in, along with Ron, and they went several rounds in comfortable cohabitation while Lyra reread a passage in her aunt’s journal, trying to turn it over in her head and understand it. She invited Hermione over to help her do so, and she switched seats so she could sit beside her and read over her shoulder. They talked it over in depth, only looking up when Harry snapped, “Baggman? Are you saying he was involved in—”
“Nah,” one of the twins—Lyra still couldn’t figure out which was which—grumbled gloomily. “Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn’t have the brains.”
“Well, what then?” Ron asked as Lyra leaned over to Hermione to ask what was going on only for the boy to explain it himself in the next second.
“You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?”
“The insane call you made that turned out to be right? Yeah, still wondering how the hell you figured that,” Kit chuckled in admiration, earning her a momentary pair of proud smirks.
“Insane call that turned out to be right, and a boat load of trouble in the end.”
“That git paid us in leprechaun gold he’d caught from the Irish mascots.”
“So?” Harry asked, and Lyra bit her cheeks to keep herself from making any sort of face.
“So, it vanished, didn’t it? By the next morning, it had gone!”
“But—it must’ve been an accident, mustn’t it?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah, that’s what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he’d made a mistake, he’d cough up. But nothing back. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us.”
Her bite was vicious now, even though she felt no desire to say “I told you so.” If the warning glares they sent her way were anything to go off of, they knew she had some grounds to it, and despised her even more because of it.
Not noticing this, Kit leaned over and asked, “Wait, so when you were warning them—”
Lyra clucked and shook her head, warning that this was not the time to bring it up.
“‘Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan’s dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he’s in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn’t enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He’s lost everything gambling. Hasn’t got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?”
“How?” asked Harry.
“He put a bet on you, mate. Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins.”
“So that’s why he kept trying to help me win! Well—I did win, didn’t I? So he can pay you your gold!”
“Nope.” The boy said with a pop at the end. “The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you’d win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task.”
It wasn’t polite to gloat…but she was starting to feel the tiniest urge to. I told you so, she sang in her own head, satisfied by the fact they knew she’d been right.
They reached the train station and began to depart. She struggled out between the masses with Kit and Marie, each girl wishing the other goodbye, telling one another they’d write soon and that they could not wait to see each other again. Their hugs were longer and tighter than normal, as if each was worried this was the last they’d see of the other. It was only once she was about to step off the train did she realize Harry was not with them.
She waved the rest of them forward, trying to find him in the crowd filing out. Eventually she did spot him, with the Weasley twins who pushed past her without so much as an excuse me or good day, looking significantly happier than they had before. “I thought I’d missed you. Is everything alright?” she asked, taking in his relatively neutral face.
“Yeah, everything’s good.” He nodded. “...I gave them my winnings.”
Lyra’s eyes bugged out. He’d said this so nonchalantly, she figured she must have misheard him. “Your winnings from the tournament?”
“Baggman stole their life savings. I’ve got enough money from my family as is, they need it more than I do. I never really wanted it in the first place.”
Lyra’s heart did something funny in her chest. Harry jumped down out of the train first, waiting just off to the side as she did so as well, taking it a bit slower as her legs had gone a bit jelly-like for some reason. “You are something special, Harry.”
“Look, just because I’ve got this crazy scar on my head doesn’t mean—”
“It’s not the scar.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, his went around her waist. “I’m going to miss you, Harry.”
“I’ll miss you too, Lyra.”
When they pulled apart, she put a hand on his cheek, and said softly. “If you write to me this summer, I’ll write back. Promise.”
She noticed Draco hanging nearby, eyes flitting around nervously, a disapproving twist to his lips. Ignoring him, she took Harry in one last time before they separated for the summer. Spending a couple months under a bridge with him suddenly felt like a really good plan.
“This plan of yours…I’m nervous about it—”
She gave his arm a comforting rub. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“Just be safe,” Harry whispered back, only just dropping his hands from her.
Once they split and were a couple steps away from one another, Draco practically grabbed her and her things, making a run in the opposite direction. She expected a lecture or something, but “Let’s find mother and father and get out of this dump,” was all he said.
Her aunt greeted and hugged her warmly, in a way one would think nothing was wrong at all. There was no evidence on either of her guardian’s faces that their old master had returned, an act they played well. She played along, returning the hug and greetings like she didn’t know the truth either.
Lyra turned to watch Harry reunited with his own aunt and uncle, the same lack of pleasure on his face as she felt. He searched for her before jumping into their family car, giving her one last wave before he got in.
She waved back at him, her promise to write back lingering in her head. Then a hand gripped her by the wrist, yanking her arm down.
“I had better not have seen you waving at the Potter boy,” her uncle Lucius hissed in her ear.
“Let go of my arm.” She turned her full attention onto him, and he blinked at the sudden intensity of it. “Now.”
After a beat, he did. His face was heated but he held his tongue, turning to march them out the station. Lyra looked back towards Harry, who’d taken a step back out when he saw the grab. She waved him off, and he reluctantly got back into the car. She waited for the door to close and for it to drive off not even a second after it did before following her family, now several steps behind.
Once they’d returned to Malfoy manor, she asked after the letter from Mr. Fawley.
“Yes, we received his letter,” her aunt said loftily as she trailed behind. “Something about how his daughter is in desperate need of companionship as they travel the countryside visiting family for the next couple months. He sent a second one as well, I believe very recently.”
“I was really hoping to take him up on the offer,” Lyra prompted when she said nothing more on her thoughts about it. “I feel it was very generous.”
“It sounds like it would be a very fun trip, no doubt. I did something similar with friends of my own when I was of a similar age.” Lyra stared at her expectantly, and Narcissa avoided giving her a straight answer by walking into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
“Have you sent a response yet?”
“Aren’t you pushy today, Lyra,” her aunt sighed, setting up the kettle.
“I believe it’s rude to keep Mr. Fawley waiting on an answer.”
“We would need to have an answer to give him first, and we are still debating. His letter came at a terribly inconvenient time, Lyra, we weren’t even sure if you were staying with us yet.” A lie, one that had Lyra biting her cheek again to keep from reacting. The request had been sent after the final verdict, when they knew she was returning to Malfoy Manor. “And as of this moment, we are leaning towards no.”
“You did the very same at my age. Don’t you want me to have the same opportunities you had?”
“We just feel it’d be best for you to stay here for the Summer, Lyra. Have some family time.” Her uncle was passing through the kitchen now. Her eyes went to her husband as she said this, their first real sign that something was wrong. “You agree, don’t you dear?”
“Don’t bother me with this right now, Narcissa,” her uncle dismissed irritably, pouring himself a cup before making his way to his office. “I’m not in the mood for it. There are things I need to attend to, we can discuss it later.”
Looking closer now, she could see a difference in him. Paler than normal, almost sickly. As well as he hid it, her uncle was shaken by Voldemort’s return. Her aunt pursed her lips but said nothing as he left without anything else to say. “Well, like he said. We can discuss it later.”
Never before in her life had Lyra invited herself into her uncle’s office and interrupted his work. She did that day though. Because later simply would not work.
“I told you I have things to do—” he stopped when he noticed who it was at his door. “Get out.”
Lyra stepped in, firmly shutting the door behind her and activating the silencing charm.
“Did you lose your hearing in your time at school? I said get out.”
“We have something we need to discuss,” Lyra stated, ignoring him, approaching his desk.
Her uncle rolled his eyes. “Oh, do we ? You really have grown bold if you think I am required to sit here and listen—”
“You’ll be letting me go with the Fawley’s this summer,” Lyra interrupted, before he could gain any real steam. “I can leave as early as tomorrow. Though I am sure Auntie will fight for at least a few days together.”
“Who exactly is it you think you are speaking to? This is not—”
“But I will be leaving. By the end of the week at the latest.”
Her uncle sat back, blown away by her boldness. “Do you really believe you have any authority to come in here and make demands?” Her uncle stood up from behind his desk, using his height and thunderous expression to try and intimidate her. “I told you that if you left us, it wouldn’t to go live with another family. If you recall, and you should, I said that I would have you wiped off the face of this earth if you stepped out of line again.”
She found herself shrugging as she said, “So do that.”
Lyra had never properly shocked her uncle, but she did today. “Excuse me?”
“Make me disappear,” she continued, the picture of unfeeling, cold. “Kill me, send me off to Greyback. Whatever it is you have planned, do that. You keep talking about it, so get rid of me.”
Cass’s voice cackled in the back of her mind. Oh, he hadn’t been expecting that from you.
“You think I am joking, is that it? That I am not a man of my word?”
“I believe you are completely serious, uncle. I know the cruelties you are capable of.” She wiggled the fingers of her scared hand at him, and he looked disgusted at how evident it still was on her skin, no doubt having expected her to take care of it already. Her hand dropped. “But whatever you decide, do yourself the favor of think it through. Thoroughly.”
His lips twitched in a smile that was not amused. Sitting back down, calling her bluff and appearing unbothered, he sat leaning forward in his seat. “I would love to hear exactly what it is you are trying to get at, Lyra.”
“You know, when you first said it to me, I truly believed you could do it and face no consequences. It frightened me at the time thinking you had that sort of power. But as I’ve had the time to think on it, I’ve realized that isn’t actually true. Someone out there would notice I’m gone, and they would make you regret it.”
“Who!” he laughed, throwing his hands up in the air. “No one cares about some bastard child whose own parents didn’t care enough to keep her. By the time you came to us, you had already gone through two homes that did not want you. You forget, Lyra, you are unwanted—!”
“You just concluded a year-long custody battle over me with the Tonkses.” She returned that nasty smirk of his. “You call that unwanted? And yes, they lost, but not by much. After fighting as hard as they did for me, they wouldn’t turn a blind eye if they heard word that I had gone missing, and you would not succeed in keeping that under wraps, I know that for a fact. And while I believe what you have to say about this mother of mine not wanting or caring about me, I do have two parents, Uncle.”
A thought came to mind for him, and he broke out in another round of nasty chuckles. “Oh, I see what you’re implying. You think your father will come and save you.”
“No, not save me necessarily. Kill you.” His face dropped just the tiniest bit, which was about as drastic of a response she figured she’d get from him. “Maybe you’ll succeed in erasing me from this earth like you said. But then you’d spend the very few remaining days of your life on a clock that is ticking down to the moment Sirius Black finds you, and makes you regret it.”
He shifted in his seat, getting his face back under control. “I think you seriously overestimate just how much that man cares for you.”
“Then I say it again: do it. If you are not scared, and I am as much a burden to you as you’ve always said I am, wash your hands of me. Because I am done. I’m done living in this house with you, you arrogant prick.”
What made this all the more convincing was how serious Lyra truly was. It was not a bluff. Since Harry had mentioned his presence in the graveyard, and she started formulating the things she’d say to him when she saw him next, she realized how little she cared if he followed through on his threat. When she thought too hard about Cedric, she almost wished he would.
“We raised you, ” Lucius spit venomously, slamming his hands down on the desk as he stood again to loom. It was even less impressive the second time. “Fed you, clothed you, gave you shelter! All I asked is that you behave, that we have your loyalty—”
“I have behaved, uncle. All seen slights and misbehaviors have been imagined in your head, or blown out of proportion because you saw me as an outsider and a threat to this perfect life you think you might have.” She took a step towards him. “Not that you cared, but you had my loyalty. And you would have had my unwavering loyalty forever, had you simply been kind to me. That’s all it would have taken. Your kindness. Even your neutrality. You always thought me simple, and you were right, I wasn’t exactly a difficult child to please. But you’ve screwed even that up.”
Taking a breath, she steadied herself. “You want me out of your hair. I understand that perfectly. Unfortunately, you fought for me. I am your responsibility until one of two things happen: you erase me, or I come of age. If you go the second way, I promise you I will not spend a minute longer than necessary in your home. I will have my affairs in order come that day, and then you and I will not have to see one another ever again. And really, it’s only a few more months of your life that you have to deal with me, summers between school years. And here I am fixing that problem by asking that you allow me to leave for the summer.”
“How generous of you,” he snarled. “Your cousin mentioned in his letter that you wouldn't be yourself when you came home, and I see what he means now. My understanding is that you were friends with that boy Diggory, and his death has had some effect on you. Just because the idiot got himself killed, doesn’t mean I will allow—”
He hadn’t expected it, the hand that landed against his face, so forceful it unbalanced him. The shift in her demeanor had been so sudden it gave her the necessary window to do so. In his moment of stunned silence as he braced himself against his desk, Lyra reached into her pocket to grab her wand in case he retaliated. The mention of her friend’s name had white hot anger flooding her numb system, and if he decided to end her there, she would get a few good blows in before she went.
“I had best not hear his name from your mouth ever again!” she hollered furiously. “Cedric Diggory was extremely dear to me, and I will not stand here and listen to you insult his memory. He was more family to me than you have ever been, and your master killed him! When you answered his call, and I know that you did, you made an enemy out of me. You may not have cast the killing spell, but you as good as when you helped that monster come to power the first time, when you agreed to help him again now. And if I was even half as cruel as you, I would do worse to you than you have ever done to me just for that.”
One hand placed on his cheek, he stared at her in an entirely new way now through rapidly blinking lids. She was so angry she didn’t even feel the satisfaction of the hesitation in his eyes, the realization that she could be just as mean as her aunt, and her great great aunt and her grandmother. He hadn’t realized until that very moment that he had as docile a child from the Black family as one could get, and that he was the one who had taught her to bite.
“You don’t actually want me here,” she snarled. “Besides the fact neither of us can stand the other, you do not want me here watching your every move after you’ve welcomed the dark lord back into your life. You had your out when the Tonkses came for me, but you were too arrogant and egotistical to allow me to go. You can reap the consequences of that now. You can’t get rid of me without inviting trouble, and you can’t keep me here for that very same reason. This is your best option, uncle, and you are an idiot if you allow your ego to keep you from taking it.”
She felt her pulse come down some, but she was still plenty angry when she said, “Barty Crouch Junior wanted me to let you know he would like a word with you. And when he comes to have it, I do not plan to be here. You have made your bed, Uncle, and I will not get wrapped up in it with you.”
His chest heaved with rapid breaths. “Your aunt wants you here—”
“You need to learn to stop giving her everything she wants,” Lyra snapped. “That’s how you got stuck with me in the first place. I do not care how you need to convince her, or how unhappy she will be when I go, but I am going to the Fawley’s this summer, so you had better figure out how to appease her.”
There was plenty more she wanted to say. She wanted to hit him again, take him by the ear and scream into it. But she’d stepped as close to the line as she could get without pushing him fully over the edge. She hadn’t meant to let things go that far, but once they did, she didn’t regret it. She knew she wasn’t going to fully escape him or her aunt, not yet, but if she managed to get them to give her leash some slack, she’d have the time she’d need to do so.
She took a step back from him, glaring at him as he came back to his full height, running his hand through his hair just the once to put it back in place. He did not meet her eye, just heaved before waving a hand and muttering a faint “Fine.” He opened his mouth to say more, try and regain control of the situation. Having gotten what she wanted, she spun on her heel and left the office, not bothering to shut the door behind her.
She made her way to her room to pack as he took a few extra moments to compose himself. By the time he exited his office, he was fully recovered, and he called out into the house, “She can go.”
Her aunt could be heard shuffling to the bottom of the stair case. “Wh—Lucius, no! We haven’t properly discussed this yet!”
“I hardly needed the time to debate it. Let the girl spend her vacation with her friend. The Fowley’s are a well enough sort. Let them play.”
“Lucius— Lucius!” Her aunt’s voice dropped low, trying to make their conversation more private. “I thought you and I were on the same page. We need to appear united, a singular, strong house—”
“I have made my decision!” he screamed, ensuring it wasn’t. “I will not be argued with, I will not be challenged! I will not have that niece of yours under my feet this summer, I have more important things to deal with!”
“That niece of mine?! She is your niece to, Lucius—”
Their voices trailed off as they took their fight further into the house. She threw open the door to her room, and began to pull out the things she would need to pack. Having just returned from school, there wasn’t much in the way of clothes or books, but there were some things left here that if she was never to return, she wanted.
It didn’t take Draco long to come stand in the doorway. She gave him a brief look before turning back to her packing. “Not sure you heard. I’ll be away this summer with Marie visiting her family. I’ll be hard to reach, but I’ll try and write at least once.”
He nodded solemnly, still hanging awkwardly by the door. “That’ll be good. It’ll be good for you to have something fun to do. Be with your friend.” His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and he shuffled on his feet. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened to Diggory.”
Lyra paused, having not expected the sentiment and being caught off guard by it. “Thank you.”
“The tournament was hard. He really proved himself, he should have won—”
“He was murdered.” She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t see into his eyes and see what he knew.
His lack of response was telling enough. He knew too, only from a different source. And there was one person he could have gotten that from.
“He was a good guy,” he continued. “And if you ever need, I’ll go to his grave with you. Maybe before you go?”
It was an unexpected offer, and certainly not one she’d seen coming from him. “I’m not sure they have a grave for him yet, or where it might be.”
“When you get back then,” he nodded. “I’ll ask mother what sort of flowers would be appropriate.”
There were days Lyra was certain she hated her cousin just as much as his father. Days when he surprised her with his insensitivity and cruelty. And then times like this made her question how much of that was really him, and how much was just his father’s voice inside his head telling him how to act. She was again reminded of how far they’d come from when she first came to live here. How much he’d grown. The Draco she’d first met would never have made such an offer, and now...
“You’re being very sweet, Draco.” She nearly smiled at him, her heart growing achy with it as her eyes prickled with tears. “It’s not so long ago you would have tormented me for my weeping.”
“Yeah, that grew old.” His lips quirked into a smile as he stepped further into her room. “Besides, you got better at playing along at some point too. Grew a sense of humor.”
“No, I didn’t. You still think I’m a stick in the mud.”
“Yeah, but now I’m responsible for you. Can’t let you sink any lower.”
“I am in no way trying to jinx this, but you know, you became kinder somewhere along the way. You can even be lovely to be around. Occasionally. Rarely.”
“No I’m not. I’m still a jerk and you know it.”
“Yeah, but now I sometimes miss you.”
He reached out and pulled her into a hug. With her leaving and him staying behind, it felt like a turning point. A goodbye of sorts. At the end of the day, he was still him, and she could no longer be who she had been. He probably didn’t realize it, but things were never going to be this good between them again.
“I love you, Draco,” she said, wishing if she could take one thing from this life here in this house and fix, it could be him. Wishing things didn’t have to be this way.
“...I love you too, Lyra.”
Lyra locked the door behind him when he left to ensure she wasn’t interrupted. With her necessities packed, she sat and wrote two letters, the first one being to Marie to let her know that her uncle had agreed. This one she would send using the Malfoy family owl, knowing there was a good chance it would be read over before it reached its destination, and using their prior agreed upon code.
Puddlewhump spun excitedly in his cage as she brought over the second letter, excited to prove himself. Buckling him into his harness, she slid the parchment into it’s canister with a prayer that it made it to its intended recipient without interception. She opened her window and placed Puddlewhump outside on the room with shaking hands, watching him scurry down and go running across the lawn with it.
She took on last look around her room, finally feeling ready to leave—if she was lucky—for good.
Father,
I have made arrangements to be away from Malfoy Manor this summer. I realize it may not be safe any longer to stay, and I wish to make up for time lost. I feel we are both owed that.
I will be making my way to the house we both spent our early childhoods raised in. I hope you’ll consider meeting me at Grimmauld Place. I plan on staying till the end of summer.
Yours, Lyra.