JUST DON'T CARE
July 25, 1995
After settling into London for the third time that year, Lyra reviewed the paperwork that built up for the cafe while she was away and devised a new menu.
In Oman, she traveled with a muggle Bedouin tribe for a few days; one of the women taught her how to traditional kebabs, and right before she porkkeyed back to England, Lyra splurged on spices in a bustling market to add the dish to the menu.
Oliver — the chef —, Sarah — the baker —, Tommy — the aspiring-chef —, and Matt — the manager — weren't surprised when she put a plate of kebab in front of them and demanded them to try. Lyra constantly added new dishes, tweaked recipes, and removed unpopular meals. Her employees agreed they'd have to approve unanimously that it was in the best interest of business, budget, and morale to make the menu less erratic. They had added chickpea curry after her trip to India in January; however, Sarah denied adding the Turkish Baklava recipe Lyra attempted to incorporate in April, claiming she did not have the time to make the sweet — much to Lyra's chagrin. She moulded and tended to her business with care: 'The Magic Brew' was her baby.
Like an unplanned pregnancy, Lyra had never thought about owning a cafe because she had never considered settling down. Her only desire was to see the world and magic made exploring a bigger adventure. It was why she had never cared for her studies; she had never intended to have a 9-5 job that would impede her from discovering each little secret the world had to offer, which she had been kept from when she was a child. She had been ready to set out once her time at Hogwarts had been over but Issac Savage had held her back.
When she was fifteen, she had been walking back to the orphanage, pocket filled with cash won from a poker game. Lyra didn't know what happened but she had heard the sound of screeching vehicles and a crash first. Then, out of nowhere, a car had flipped in front of her before it stilled. The front window was shattered and the couple in the front seats were very dead. There had been blood everywhere and the bodies had been mangled beyond recognition with metal protruding from their torsos.
For the first few seconds there had been a ringing in her ears but the tentative cries of a young boy had soon registered in her mind and she had leapt into action, pulling the crying child out of car and holding him close. Lyra had refused to let him see his parents as she had dragged him away. They had been lucky to have gotten away swiftly because an explosion had shoved them to the ground and the air around them had become unbearably hot.
It had taken the authorities half an hour to arrive but it had given the boy enough time to latch onto her like a duckling.
That day, Lyra lowered the walls that were built around her for the first time and let someone into her heart.
Issac Savage was seven years old when he lost his entire world and had been placed in Beecham's Home for Children. He had refused to leave Lyra's side the first few weeks. In that time, odd, unexplainable things occurred and she had recognised the accidental magic Issac had been provoking in his fits of heartache and anger. The boy she saved was a wizard, and unlike her — who pretended —, he was a muggleborn.
When she had to leave to start her fifth year, Lyra spent all her savings on a pair of two-way mirrors so she could stay close to Issac in order to be with him. It had been easy to convince him to keep the mirrors a secret — he had already been distraught and pleading her not to leave.
For the rest of her time at Hogwarts, they had gotten into the routine of talking ever day. Every Hogsmeade trip she'd apparate to Surrey to visit. Every holiday she would be by his side. Every summer she dragged him around to keep him away from the hell of the orphanage. And every summer night she would disappear to gamble.
As a legilimens, it was easy for her to win poker games with the muggles none the wiser. Some nights, she would street fight and come back battered and bruised but a couple grand richer from bets she had placed. Those mornings, Issac would yell and she'd wave him off as he helped dress the wounds.
The fruition of her sleepless nights came when she left Hogwarts and adopted Issac. She had moved them to a small two-bedroom flat, where they lived for a few weeks before Issac got his Hogwarts letter.
The boy had ignored her for three days, vexed to the bone. On the fourth day, Issac had gotten over his anger and let her show him the wizarding world. Her heart had swelled, seeing his enraptured features as he had taken in the magnificent sight of Diagon Alley that had been cheery despite the dreary times of the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
Issac had been in danger from the pureblood supremacists as a muggleborn but her fears ceased to exist when he had left for Hogwarts, where he was under the care of the only wizard Voldemort feared — Albus Dumbledore.
However, with Issac gone, Lyra had been free to explore and she had traveled everywhere. The plains of North America. The jungles of the Amazon. The bustling cities of Europe. The savannahs of Africa. The cold mountain ranges of Nepal. The Blue Mountains of Australia. Nowhere was out of her grasp. Her new brother would join her in the adventures during the summer, keen to learn about other cultures and magic, which was distinctive in his nature as a Ravenclaw.
A decade after Lyra adopted him, Issac had completed his Auror Training and all but demanded she get an actual job because he couldn't have a sister that made her living gambling and tracking.
Since he was her sweet little brother, Lyra had indulged him and had bought a bakery that was going out of business. Her magic let her redecorate and fix everything up. A month later, 'A Magic Brew' had opened and the muggles of Islington loved it. The shop was between a laundromat and a small convenience store in a large residential area, keeping a steady stream of customers.
For six years she settled into a conventional routine whilst in London. Her day would always start by enjoying the morning reading in Hyde Park before heading of to the cafe to fill out paperwork or take shifts. As business dwindled in the evenings, she'd head home to a flat she shared with her brother where she would experiment with spells. Issac never failed to complain about the mayhem she spawned when her spells went awry, especially with her elemental magic. Occasionally she would miss having dinner with Issac to babysit Hope, but it was often he never made it back due to his irregular work-hours as an Auror. She never strayed from the routine. It was comforting to know she didn't have anything to worry about except Issac's occasional skirmishes. However, as she sat in the cafe at one of the tables tucked in close to the bookshelf — paperwork forgotten — her stomach twisted into a knot reading the headline of The Daily Prophet: HAS FAME GOTTEN TO POTTER?
Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, claimed Voldemort returned during the final test of the Triwizard Championship, in which a Hogwarts student died. The Ministry stated the death was an accident and Potter, who was backed by Dumbledore — the greatest Wizard of all time —, was spouting lies.
Lyra knew that Potter was telling the truth. The tides were changing: she could feel it within her bones and every breath she took filled her lungs with foreboding. Just the previous summer, the Dark Mark hung hauntingly in the sky after the Quidditch World Cup was terrorised by Death Eaters and all throughout the last year there had been mysterious disappearances. The Minister was a fool if he couldn't recognise the signs of the impeding war.
Lyra didn't care. She didn't care if she was murdered the following day. She didn't care if Death Eaters bulldozed a town or enslaved the muggles. Lyra knew she wasn't normal. Her past left her so mentally frail that she had compartmentalised everything — she felt nothing half the time. She only lived because she had yet to die, traveling only filled her time with excitement until she met her ultimate end. Oddly enough, she would tear the world down if Issac asked her to.
He was the only thing she ever valued. She opened a cafe because he asked. She'd broken bones for him. She'd involved herself in tracking dark objects for pompous Ministry officials to ensure Issac would achieve his dream of becoming an Auror.
Issac was always going to be a target for Dark Wizards being what he was. If he opposed Voldemort, Lyra would have to get involved to keep him safe, and in the few days since she had returned from Ubar, her brother had been uncharacteristically busier than normal. She couldn't —
"Lyra?"
She stepped out of her mind to glance up at Remus. His brown eyes were crinkled at the sides and he stared down at her with a charming smile. Lyra considered the possibility he was trying to fool her in the name of Voldemort but dismissed the thought, recalling he had lost his closest friends due to the Dark Lord. The looming war was making her paranoid and questioning everyone that spoke to her. Since she returned to London, she had been distrustful and her mind endlessly raced with the possibilities of every interaction, but her mind would cease its work at the quirkiest reminders of Remus. Books. Chocolate. Holes in her clothes. She felt like she was a teenager again.
"Hey, Remus," she smiled at him. "Can I get you anything?"
"Coffee, thank you. You wouldn't mind me raiding your stash, would you?"
Lyra laughed and plucked a book from the bookshelf. The cafe was empty and the others were at the back baking so she drew her wand out and tapped the book. It transfigured with a pop into a small trunk on the table. "Feel free to pillage," she gestured with a wink before heading off to make his drink.
The machine grumbled softly as it filled a cup with coffee. Lyra swept her gaze to the werewolf and studied how he rifled through her sweets carefully. He genuinely seemed curious and nothing about his presence made her uneasy.
Remus pulled out a pretzel wand dipped in chocolate; his cheek twitching as his hands fidgeted the treat. "Germany," she remarked,
"Not all that popular but my brother likes them."
"I'll take his word for it." He shuffled over and sat at the table where The Daily Prophet rested along with her forgotten paperwork. "I hope you don't mind me asking but brother? I thought you were — well, you know —"
"—An orphan?" Lyra finished for him with a smirk. She placed the coffee in front of him and joined him at the table. "I am and he is too. We were at the same orphanage. Once I left Hogwarts, I adopted him."
"That's kind of you. Does he know your a witch?" Remus asked with pursed lips, making her crack a laugh.
"I should hope so. Otherwise, he's an awful wizard."
He chuckled and leaned back into his seat. His gaze shifted from her to the painting on the wall. Remus had bass voice but his tone was always so gentle. "That painting," Lyra looked to where he gestured, "its painted by that witch, Marigold Grey."
He was studying the artwork intently. Remus was ensnared by Grey. She made an ordinary muggle street that looked down at the Thames otherworldly: the water glittered like magic, the dark streets were illuminated by flickering street lights, and the stars of the night sky twinkled mischievously. The street was empty, save for the small blob of a young, brown-haired girl in a white dress. Her features were indistinguishable but it seemed as if she was longingly staring out into the real world. There was only a touch of magic lingering on the artwork, enough muggles remained ignorant of the charm.
"I know," Lyra hummed. "I found it in a muggle gallery in Italy. It's breathtaking, isn't it?"
"Yeah," an airy breath past his lips. His eyes fixating on the girl. "Last time I saw her art was at the Potters. That painting was the same, it draws you in and doesn't let you look away."
Lyra lightly curled her fingers around Remus', smiling softly when she gartered his attention. "Avoid looking at the girl, I think there's an entrancing enchantment on her."
Clearing her throat, she straightened the newspaper and returned to article that put her in a brooding mood earlier.
"What do you think about the headline?" Remus posed, sipping on his coffee.
Lyra confessed scoffing, "It reminds me why I stay away from the wizarding community."
"What do you mean?" he pressed and she rose a brow at him.
"Ignoring the fact that the Prophet is the most popular source of news and its filled with rubbish?" She asked rhetorically. "Anyone with a brain cell knows that You-Know-Who is back. There have been too many signs to ignore and people just buy whatever the Ministry tells the Prophet to write."
"Huh," Remus nodded thoughtfully with glazed eyes and ate his pretzel. Lyra lowered the paper and looked at the him over the top, "What?"
"I think that's most opinionated statement I have ever heard you say," he revealed and she arched a brow, waiting for him to try to deny the truth.
"Am I wrong?"
"Not at all. I wholeheartedly agree," the werewolf hummed in agreement, "though, I don't see why that be reason enough to stay away from the wizarding world."
"I never said I stayed away, I just don't care enough to take part," she huffed.
"Do you take part in the muggle world?"
"Beyond the cafe, no." Lyra scoffed, smirking, "Don't care much for muggles either."
"If you believe Voldemort's back, aren't you worried?" Lips turned turned down, he badgered, "Don't you care? You're not exactly in the good graces of the Death Eaters since you're a muggleborn."
Lyra breathed in deeply and scanned the empty room. Acoustic muggle music was playing softly, and the morning sun lit up the room; the chairs casted long shadows on the ceramic floor. She let her gaze settle on Grey's painting as she contemplated Remus' words and finally divulged, "I'll be honest. Wizards and muggles are the same to me, neither has done me any favours, so if they decide to tear themselves apart, I'll stand by and watch."
"You weren't this broody at Hogwarts," the werewolf noted.
"I was," Lyra countered with a touch of smile, watching him finish the pretzel. "I just never spoke with anyone long enough for my disheartening opinions to make themselves known in conversations."
"We talked plenty," he argued but Lyra refuted him quickly. "Only in lessons and always about work."
Remus' chair creaked as he leaned back to stare at her.
After a moment of silence in which his brown eyes nitpicked her apart, he finally acquiesced faintly, "You're right."
The bell dinged and a tall man sporting a dark trench coat stepped into the cafe. He had curly, dark hair that fell to his sharp cheekbones. He wore expensive robes that added to his regal demeanour. Issac's hazel eyes quickly settled on the sight on Lyra's back who sat at a table with Remus.
He quirked a brow at the werewolf when their eyes met and began smiling teasingly, but before he could a comment, Remus turned to Lyra, "I thought you said you didn't get wizarding customers."
She twisted in her seat to catch the sight of who the he implied. She stared her brother down and blandly told Remus with pursued lips, "I don't. He's a thief."
"Am not," Issac replied childishly making her roll her eyes.
"Are too. When have you ever paid for anything?"
"Are you peeved because I'm interrupting your date?" He blinked innocently and she curled her lips, "Excuse me?"
Remus chocked on his coffee at the banter and Issac's lips quirked into boyish grin, "I am, aren't I?"
Lyra spit out, "It. Is. Not. A. Date."
"Sure," he drawled as he began to trifle through her box of sweets, missing the icy glare thrown his way.
Lyra threatened, "I'll destroy your clothes."
"Like I care," the Auror waved her away dismissively and pulled out a small pouch of Magical Turkish Delights, "You'll feel bad a few days later and replace them."
"Do you two know each other?" Remus interjected the bickering duo cautiously.
Nodding calmly, Issac confessed, "Sadly, Remus, this cold-hearted witch is my sister."
Lyra menacingly strutted into her brother's personal space, "How the hell do you know Remus?"
"We are both part of the Order."
"Savage!" Remus exclaimed as Lyra pressed, "What Order?" What the hell did her brother get involved in now?
"It's alright, Remus. She won't betray the only person her heart beats for," Issac sassed, as an afterthought, he added, "I can also get her thrown into Azkaban so her loyalty is secured if only to avoid the Dementors."
Lyra felt her eye twitch, watching her brother eat sweets and throw threats out carelessly. "Lyra, my sweet sister," he addressed her, smiling coyly, "I have joined the Order of the Phoenix and it would be in the best interest of my survival that you help me."
She should've known he meant the the secret society Dumbledore founded to fight Voldemort during the first First Wizarding War. They barely made any progress in repelling the Dark forces until Harry Potter ended the war. The Ministry had better luck in thwarting the Death Eaters when they retaliated with Unforgivables. Lyra suspected countless members of the Order were killed due to Sirius Black's betrayal as Voldemort's spy within the society. The Dark Wizard was sure to weasel a rat amongst the ranks again and Issac was going to get himself killed.
"No."
Issac whined, "Come on! I haven't said anything."
"Why are you involving her with Order business, Savage?" Remus reproached him.
"Are you serious? Don't you know who Lyra is? You must've heard of her within werewolf circles." He was shot a blank stare and so he revealed rhetorically in a question, "The vampires call her Lady Voldemort?"
Lyra groaned and slumped back into her seat, ignoring Remus who snapped his dilated gaze to her. The werewolf was going to attack, one way or another, with the way Issac was handling the situation.
"Relax, Remus," her brother soothed, popping another sweet in his mouth. "She's not evil."
"I'm sorry," the werewolf retorted sarcastically, "I'm having a hard time believing that the Slytherin Dunce is Lady Voldemort — no offence — and that a witch could be friendly with a name like that."
"Lyra? A dunce? Are you short of a marble?" Issac burst out into laughter, choking on a treat. Remus sprang to his feet and dug his wand into her throat. His nostrils flared and he growled darkly, "What did you do to him? Remove Imperio!"
Lyra looked up to him with half-lidded eyes, "Straighten out your knickers. Issac's just a dumbass."
The dark-haired wizard tentatively meandered towards the werewolf and grasped the offending arm softly. "Remus," Issac coaxed, "Lyra's not evil. She's not planning world domination. She doesn't want to kill or torture anyone so kindly stop pointing your wand at my sister."
Her brother's pleas were heard as the werewolf slowly lowered his wand. "Why is her name Lady Voldemort?" He demanded, his eyes flickering between the siblings.
"I threatened vampires with fire—"
"—Cause she broke a vampires spine." Lyra and Issac quipped simultaneously. She quickly added, "In my defence, he tried eating Issac."
"Yeah, and you broke his back with your hands," the wizard emphasised, "then set him on fire."
"Again — in my defence — he tried eating you," she repeated without an ounce of regret before clarifying, "and I used magic ."
"Well it was wandless, wasn't it?" Issac mocked. He pivoted back to Remus, "You don't want to be at the receiving end of her wrath. Hell hath no fury like woman scorned, eh?"
"Of course." Remus' eyes darted to Lyra every so often and he pressed his lips together. "You haven't explained why she's called Lady Voldemort."
Issac quirked a brow at her to retell the story but she turned away to peer out the window, stalking the muggles as they passed.
He began, "We were walking home from King's Cross Station at the end my sixth year when two vampires jumped us. One appeared in front, stopping us, while the other tried to grab me.
"Lyra did her kung-fu moves — I don't know if you've seen her fight but she has a hell of a right hook, anyways —, she broke his back. His legs just went out under him but he still went to grab me and she made him burst into flames. The vampire was screeching and the other went to help when Lyra shoved me behind her and stunned him.
"It's all good and well, though. She healed the vampire, the one she tortured — err, sorry, bad choice of words —, she healed his back with a spell and gave him a potion for the burns. Lyra left them on the street and dumped me at our flat before disappearing to the gambling den she often frequents — I followed her. Good thing I did, otherwise I would have never witnessed her go ballistic at the vampires in the den.
"The werewolves. The goblins. The wizards. No one tried to intervene as she threatened the vampires, and anyone who attempted, she shoved backwards with her hand. Wandlessly! Everyone had been too horrified to move. One of the last things she said was, 'Voldemort is puffskein compared to me — you'd do well to remember that. I won't end your miserable existence but I will make your life agony until you off yourself.' From then on, every time she went back to the den, she was known as Lady Voldemort — the Dark Lady. Brilliant, right?"
Remus drilled holes into the side of her head as he processed what he'd learned. Lyra knew he was recalling the night days prior when she threatened him. She had been easy with him, the muggles present spared him from experiencing her wrath and violent magic, even if she had no reason to unleash her rage. Her actions contradicted the sweet, defenceless demeanour she portrayed to the world. She always wore earthy tones that blended with her skin and her long hair would fall down her back in waves. Her limbs were thin with a small layer of muscle that made her look frail. Strangers remembered her to be a kind woman with beautiful stormy eyes who wouldn't hurt a fly but those that got to know her learned there was nothing in her heart — she was indifferent. Yet, her enemies knew she wasn't apathetic: they knew, first hand, how despicable she could be when provoked. She was notorious among dark circles for she showed no mercy to the ones that tried to cross her.
She didn't care how monstrous she acted that day, or any other day her rage surged; they put Issac in jeopardy so she raised hell on earth and she would continue to bring forth the flames for every assault. Lyra cast her gaze to Remus who chewed his lip as he rubbed his jaw. There wasn't any hostility in his brown eyes. They studied her like she was a puzzle waiting to be solved. She was breathless and her heart raced as she lost herself in his eyes. Did she want her puzzle to be unraveled?
Remus tilt his head. "You've never met Voldemort?"
"Only in his nightmares," she piped.
"Great!" Issac clapped and pulled a chair to sit uncomfortably close to her. "Now that Remus is no longer trying to kill you, I need to talk to those in your gambling den."
Lyra analysed the stony-faced expression Issac sported; nothing betrayed his intentions and his mind was protected by a thick wall, however, she didn't need to delve into his mind to understand why he needed her help.
With Voldemort back, the war had begun but neither side could fight without followers. The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters were undoubtedly riling up forces and his opposition would do the same.
"Don't bother trying to recruit them into Dumbledore's army," Lyra deduced. The werewolves, vampires, goblins, and half-giants had no reason to fight for the present system of the wizarding world that discriminated against them at every turn. The ministry massacred the giants during the last war. The goblins cared only for gold the rich purebloods could provide. The vampires had no interest in wizards that would put them down if they bared their fangs. The werewolves wanted to be considered equal. Even if the pureblood fanatics considered them to be lowly, the Dark creatures would fight for Voldemort, if only, for the possibility that their livelihoods would improve with their loyalty.
Issac groaned, "Remus — chap — you're terribly fortunate to have never been at the whims of Lyra's brilliance. It's infuriating how she knows everything when you say meep."
The werewolf retook his seat across from her. "I think I have been at her whims before, she just never said anything."
"She found out you are a werewolf ages ago and she's telling you now, right?" Her brother speculated and Remus nodded. "That's sounds like her."
"That's rich coming from you," Lyra muttered, looking away from them, "you do the same."
"Oh, Sweet Lyra, I learned from the best," he crooned, making the witch deadpan. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Issac."
"We need to try to reach out to them, though. We have to try to get the werewolves and vampires to understand Voldemort doesn't have their best interest at heart," the wizard stressed. Lyra knitted her brows and tried to end his insistence.
"They have no qualms about maiming Aurors."
"Come with me," he implored. "You'll deter them from attacking. You might even help convince them to join the cause with how scared they are of you."
"I use fear to stay steer clear of them and to protect you," she objected. "In war, you can't use fear to recruit forces. You would be sowing the seeds for your ultimate betrayal."
The werewolf scrutinised her. She wasn't acting like the girl he remembered from Hogwarts — that girl said silly things and wasn't smart enough to strategise for war. After moment, Remus affirmed, "Voldemort would promise to rid them of Lyra in exchange for their cooperation."
She cleared her throat, "Besides, they won't listen to us — we aren't like them. They'll think we are talking out of our arses."
"I can talk to them," the werewolf offered and Issac edged forward in his seat.
"Brilliant! Remus can come too!" Lyra ignored her brother's enthusiasm and rose a brow.
"Hm. I thought you were opposed to involving me in Order business, Remus."
"You're not a member but we need all the help we can get, even if it is from the Dark Lady," he grunted. "Voldemort has already begun to assemble his forces and we can't dilly dally."
Lyra took a moment to consider the options but her mind flashed with an image of Issac's dead body. "I'm not going to help Issac make his death bed by indulging his desire to fight with the Order that was all but killed last time."
Her brother threw his hands in the air. "Lyra — in the name of Merlin — if you don't help me, I'll throw you in Azkaban."
"Oh, yeah? For what? My illegal business with Ministry officials? I'm sure they'd love to be witnesses," she rolled her eyes. Issac hissed back, "For being an unregistered Animagus."
"Oh, you bastard." Her jaw clenched as she held herself back from strangling the wizard.
Remus now knew one of her secrets and she was sure the Order would love to hear about it — it gave them power over Lady Voldemort. The werewolf evaluated her closely once again and she let nothing show as she briefly peered at him. She remained calm knowing he had no clue of her animagus form but the thought of him discovering made her heart thud in her chest; worried he would remember the full moon when their wolves clashed in the Forbidden Forest. Issac had no knowledge of it and didn't realise the severity of his words despite being a Ravenclaw. He even had the guts to quip, "Orphan, actually."
She shoved a finger in his face. "You're playing with fire."
"No, I'm fighting for what's right. Voldemort is wicked," he glowered.
"I don't care if he shits unicorns," Lyra barked, making Remus' eyes widen. She pinned her brother down with a dark eyes. "The rest of the Order can go die in a hole for all I care but you can't, Issac."
The soothing muggle music echoed loudly as they lapsed into deafening silence. Lyra could hear the inhalation and exhalation of her brother's heavy breaths, reminding her he was still alive, soothing her he was still safe. "I refuse to let you walk into a massacre," she whispered.
Remus reached over the table to grasp her hand gently, "Dumbledore won't that happen."
She shook her head slightly, "He's just a man. He's not infallible."
"Join the order," Issac said abruptly, leaning close to her. "You have the brains to guarantee the plans have no flaws."
"I'm not a seer."
"No, you're not but you are the greatest witch the world has never known," her brother declared softly. Lyra stared into his hazel eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. He was not going to let it go: Issac was going to fight with the Order and nothing would deter him despite the evident fear on his face. He needed her at his side.
Remus fluttered his gaze between the siblings, fidgeting in his seat as he bore witness to a private moment that was uncharacteristic to the two. He was saved when the front door jingled and a group of women strolled in. Lyra reflexively snapped her wand to the trunk of sweets and it flattened into a book; chairs scraped against the ground as the men stood promptly and she mirrored them with less aggression.
Issac straightened his coat and titled his head at her, "We'll talk more later, yeah?"
"No need," she smiled lightly, "I'll join." Their lives before they met were nothing. They had been two peas in a pod since that fateful day and the war was just another hurdle for them to overcome together.
"I knew you cared." He puckered his lips teasingly, "Why don't you give a goodbye kiss to Remus, ey?"
"Get out," she spat with narrowed eyes.
"Pardon me," Issac winked at the ladies, making them burst into a fit of giggles as they fluttered their eyes at her handsome brother who left the cafe. He was such a philanderer. Lyra turned to Remus. "I apologise for Issac. He likes taking a piss."
He rubbed his jaw, "That's alright. I know how he is but he did make my visit enlightening."
"I'm sure," she drawled. Remus slowly weaved around the tables and she followed, listening to his words. "It was. You're not what I remember. I never suspected you had so many secrets."
"Isn't that the point of secrets?" She looked up at him with raised brows when he stopped. "Yeah but you hide them well, Slytherin's Dunce."
Lyra wrinkled her nose and thought out loud, "I prefer that name compared to my other less than favourable title."
"Fair enough, my Dark Lady," he bowed and looked up at her with a mocking smile.
Lyra grimaced. "What do I do to never witness that again?"
His eyes twinkled with mischief, the same way they did when they were in school. "Can't say I have a clue, my—"
"—Get out," she grit.
Remus opened the door and turned to her with a lips turned up in mirth, "By your liege, my Dark Lady."
"He's just as bad as Issac," she grumbled under her breath, gaping at him as he left. She took a deep breath to fix her composure and twirled with a charming smile, "Good morning Ladies, feel free to take a sit anywhere. I'll bring you the menu in a second."
She looked out the window to catch a last glimpse at the two wizards to find Remus' brown eyes staring at her from across the street. Lyra smiled sadly, watching him follow her brother out of sight. Life was no longer going to be the same.