Hey everyone, this is my first ever fanfic! So excited to know what everyone thinks (and if anyone will even read it), but I will not dwell on that depressing thought!
So, anyway, enjoy.
(I do not own any of these characters by the way, except Lyra ;P)
Was that necessary?
Her first year.
Train journey.
The corridors were crowded, not a single empty compartment in sight.
Eventually she came across one occupied by only two people.
The young girl peered through the window and, seeing that the people inside looked nice enough, opened the door, "hello. Do you mind if I sit with you?" She had a child like voice and appearance, with a wide, toothy grin to complete the picture. She leaned against the door frame and waited for their answer, perfectly relaxed.
The one sat closest to the door, a girl with bushy brown hair, smiled at her. "Of course, we are only expecting two more people. Come, sit down," she patted the seat beside her.
The young girl smiled even wider, "thanks." With a cute little giggle, she moved inside, letting the door slide close behind her. She lifted her suitcase, half the size of what most people used, into one of the overhead racks and sat down, curling up in her seat, perfectly at ease.
The bushy haired girl was momentarily stunned by the little girl's actions. She was sat smiling at her as though they had know each other for years. She shook it off, however, and reached out her hand, "I'm Hermione Granger and this is Ginny Weasley."
"Lyra," the girl shook both of their hands in turn.
Ginny, a shy looking girl, with fiery red hair, spoke, "are you a first year?"
Lyra nodded, "you're a first year too, and you," she looked at Hermione, "are a second year."
Hermione frowned, "how did you know?"
Lyra shrugged, "magic," Ginny laughed and Hermione smiled.
"Have you done much magic?" Ginny asked eagerly.
"Yes, more than was expected of me," her manner became cold and she suddenly seemed much older than she was (rather than her previous childlike self), "for someone without guidance," she scowled at the floor.
Hermione raised an eyebrow at the girl's abrupt change in mood, "what do you mean?"
Lyra appeared not to have heard her.
The rest of the journey passed with Lyra sat in silence.
Two others did come, Ginny's twin brothers, but apparently not the two Hermione had mentioned earlier.
One of them (I'm sure Ginny could tell you which) suggested that they change into their robes. They then left the compartment in search of their friend, Lee Jordan.
Not an hour after they had changed, the train pulled into Hogsmead station. Hermione grabbed her belongings, but told the two younger ones to leave theirs, "first years things are taken to the castle for them," she explained.
They stepped off the train and Hermione pointed them in the direction of a huge man, who smiled and waved at her, then, after waving back, she wished them luck and headed in the direction of a long line of black carriages.
Lyra turned and, without waiting for Ginny, walked towards the towering man.
His second year.
First sight.
He was sat with his usual, fawning party. The thugs, Crabbe and Goyle, were sat on either side of him. Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode (the fawning ones), Blaise Zabini and Marcus Flint sat opposite.
Most people, had they been in his position, would have been bored of the way these people behaved around him. After a year, the whole 'I-need-his-acceptance-and-attention-to-feel-important' act would have seemed annoying and a little childish to all normal people.
But not Draco Malfoy.
To someone with a need to be important as strong as Draco's, nothing could seem better.
"I hope you had a good summer, Draco," Pansy's claw like hand reached across the table as if to take his, but she thought better of it after a filthy look from Millicent. "Not too bad, no." Pansy seemed disheartened at his lack of interest in giving her a better answer.
Millicent smirked, "pathetic," she mouthed at Pansy.
Pansy opened her mouth to retort, but stopped. The great hall had gone silent, for the doors had opened and Professor McGonagall was striding towards the staff table, a stool in her left hand, a battered old hat in her right, and a group of nervous looking children trailing behind her. She stopped and placed the stool on the floor, the hat on top of it. A tear in the hat, near the brim, opened up like a mouth and the hat began to sing.
Draco, not caring what the hat had to say (it's a hat for god sake, I don't need advice from a hat), allowed his mind to wander.
He focused his attention back toward the sorting when he heard the applause, though he wasn't really taking anything in, he had no idea how many had joined Slytherin, if any. He simply looked at their faces and then his eyes and ears stopped paying attention.
Draco's head was resting on his arms by the time McGonagall was calling the third to last name, "Lyra." He flitted his eyes to her face, then back to the table and then his head shot up and he stared at her.
Never had he seen the likes of her!
Her rose cheeks glowed against her pale complexion. Her lips were full and in perfect proportion to her round, still childlike face. And her eyes. Her eyes! Draco had never seen such a wondrous blue. They were deeper than any ocean known to man, yet they were as clear and crisp as a perfect winter's day. So many shades of blue that no one had ever known existed.
Then she was removing the hat a getting up from the stool.
Her hair, a rich, deep brown, almost black, cascaded down her back and around her shoulders in bouncing curls. Each time she moved her head, it threw rainbows of different reds and gold's.
But where had she been placed?
Draco had been so busy sitting in awe of this tiny girl's beauty, that he had not heard which house the hat had put her in.
She was walking in the direction of the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. But which one, which one?
She was at the Gryffindor table and... She was walking past.
Slytherin. She was in Slytherin!
Draco had never had time for god, and he wasn't sure if wizards had an equivalent or not, but he was thanking someone.
And it sure as hell felt like that someone was a god.
