Lyra whirled underneath the flash of red light and threw a retaliating jinx behind her easily, hearing the yelp of pain as confirmation that it had hit. Without really seeing - but feeling - where the other person was, she spun and cast another spell, the light bright enough to force the onlookers to close their eyes as the boy stumbled backwards and tripped, his wand clattering to the floor. She quickly yanked it away with a muttered 'expelliarmus' and then pointed her wand directly at his chest, breathing heavily.
"And Lyra gets the win," Mason said approvingly, writing it up on the blackboard.
The boy struggled to his feet by himself but shook her hand with a begrudging smile before he stepped back to make room for the next duel.
She allowed the thrill of the duel and the win to wash over her as she rejoined Dorcas and sipped her water, smiling to herself as Dorcas ruffled her hair proudly. Lyra had known from the beginning that whatever she lacked in hand to hand she more than made up for in magical combat. Even before she got her wand aged eleven she'd felt magic more keenly than either of her brothers had, and she'd worked hard on duelling ever since.
Feeling Mason's eyes on her, she looked up and grinned at him and he grinned back before turning to start the next duel.
"You looked so hot then," Dorcas whispered, her own fight over earlier. "Like when you were fighting? I was nearly attracted to you."
"Nearly?" Lyra pouted.
"You're not my type, I prefer blondes," Dorcas cackled, "But it was a close one, I promise. You know who else-"
"Don't say it!"
"Was attracted to you?" Dorcas finished triumphantly. "Don't tell me you didn't see him staring."
"I wasn't focussing on him, okay?" Lyra snorted, "I was focussed on the duelling."
Dorcas rolled her eyes and shut up to watch the last few fights.
"Auror McKinnon," someone called once the final duel had been decided.
Mason turned from the blackboard. "Yeah?"
"Who do you think would win if you and Black duelled?"
Most of the eyes in the room turned to Lyra and she choked slightly on her water,
"Want to find out?" Mason smiled at her.
"Oh I'm sure it'd be you," she said hastily.
"You know what, I don't actually know," he grinned back mischievously. "Come on, give it a go. If you lose, you know you lost to a fully trained Auror and there's no shame. If you win…"
Someone whooped from the back
Lyra cast her eyes upwards desperately and then shrugged. "Sure. Whatever." She stood up again and grabbed her wand from the bench next to her. "Let's do this."
Mason's grin turned wicked as he twirled his wand in his hand. "Let's."
Dorcas grabbed the whistle from around his neck gleefully and stood at the edge of the marked off area. "You two ready?"
Lyra nodded and closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself, feeling the warmth of her wand and the magic pulsing within. "Ready."
Mason narrowed his eyes and rolled on the balls of his feet. "Me too."
Dorcas blew the whistle.
Mason wasted no time and immediately lunged forwards into his first spell. Lyra didn't bother to try and dodge it, she just flung up a pearly shield charm that absorbed it easily before throwing a stunning charm underneath the bottom edge, catching his foot and making him stumble. It hadn't been a direct hit, he wasn't unconscious, but he felt an unnatural heaviness in the foot and suddenly found it a dead weight.
"First hit to Lyra!" Dorcas called.
Mason cursed and Lyra laughed, delighted.
With his foot now largely useless, Mason was forced to move less when attacking and the attacks soon turned defensive as Lyra practically danced around whatever spells he shot her way. One nasty hex left her arm burning deep inside but she gritted her teeth and stepped closer, surrounding him with stormy whorls of water, blocking his view. Mason had the strength and power advantage, sure, and he definitely had the experience. When he managed to hit her, it hurt and her teeth were permanently gritted now. But his style of duelling, fighting against her at least, was too different. The magic seemed to anticipate what she wanted and there was an artistry to her movements that he hadn't seen in a dueller before which allowed her to outmanoeuvre him fairly consistently.
The spectators were now hastily stepping back to give the pair more space as the spells grew wilder. They did seem evenly matched, only conceding a wound when their different styles let something through the wall of magic being thrown out. By now most, if not all, of the charms were non-verbal and Dorcas had stopped trying to keep track of what spells they were even using.
Somehow Lyra had backed Mason against the wall of the room but she was no closer to disarming or stunning him than she had been at the start and Mason's shield charm was far too strong and now covered him from every angle. She could feel the physical and magical drain of the duel and knew she needed to finish it quickly.
She stopped firing spells, knowing that he would have to drop the shield to attack her, and gave herself thirty seconds to rack her brains.
The room was silent. No one moved. Mason watched her from behind his shield charm and she watched his hand movements. The stalemate stretched on, blood pounding in her ears as she locked her gaze on him and took a steadying breath, trying to read his blue eyes for any hint of what he was planning. He smirked slightly and dropped the shield as he moved faster than she'd thought it was possible for someone to move. Despite studying him, she was caught off guard and her wand was yanked from her hand before she could so much as think of protecting it. Desperate and knowing she wasn't done yet, she yelled, startling him, and threw her hand out towards him.
"Ventus exanimo," she cried, turning her hand and clenching her fist, watching with satisfaction as gusts of wind whipped around his head and shoulders fiercely. She lunged forwards and snatched both wands from his hand while he struggled for breath and then, once she'd retreated a safe distance, she ended the spell and watched him drop to his knees, rubbing his neck and staring at her, his eyes bright despite the redness of his face.
Dorcas waited a second before she opened her mouth, seeing if Mason had anything left. He just stared at Lyra for a second longer and then grinned, shrugging. "You win."
Her jaw dropped slightly as she handed his wand back.
The room exploded with noise as people crashed into her to congratulate her, not even remotely remembering that an hour before they didn't care about her one way or the other; Mason McKinnon was a well known guy and a talented Auror and he'd been beaten by a recruit. Dorcas practically chucked the whistle back at Mason and dived on top of Lyra, hollering loudly and setting her off laughing too, but Lyra's eyes were still fixed on Mason
He'd stood upright and stayed back while the other recruits had gathered around but he was watching her with obvious pride and something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She wanted to make sure he was okay – no one else had noticed that her final spell hadn't been in the Standard Book of Spells, but she knew it was an invented spell, one that she hadn't ever used on another person before. As she kept watching him, she found she couldn't look away. Maybe it was the feeling of validation from knowing she was good at this and that she could be accepted as an Auror, but a large part of her happiness right now was – if she allowed herself to admit it – because he thought she was good at this and he was proud of her. Not understanding exactly why she was feeling that way, she blushed as she always seemed to around him and finally forced herself to look away and chat excitedly to the people around her as they streamed out of the training room to go for dinner.
The room emptied until Mason was left holding his wand at his side, his hair very tangled. He felt like he'd been hit by both the literal hurricane she'd conjured but also a metaphorical one. She had been formidable. He'd seen her application back at the beginning, he knew that she was a good dueller, could perform controlled wandless magic and had attempted to create her own spells, but knowing those facts just didn't match up to the force with which she'd just fought. Mason had thought he'd understood her pretty well despite the short time they'd known each other. He'd had her down as quiet, thoughtful, reserved but witty. Not that.
She'd come out and obliterated him – even if it had taken her final spell to disarm him, he'd been on the defensive the entire time and even now he couldn't feel his leg from the first hex.
It was completely inappropriate to even think it, but he was starting to resign himself to his feelings. He'd heard Dorcas' comment after her first fight and she hadn't lied, it had been hot. Admitting it felt weird but it was true: he was attracted to her, and the look in her eyes as she'd cast that final spell – her own spell – had flipped his stomach so badly he'd barely been able to breathe even once she'd ended the magic. Something about her, an intangible quality that he couldn't put his finger on, was magnetic. He found himself staring at her, moving towards her without thinking about it and his mind had rebounded to the image of her in the library surrounded by the halo of lamp light frequently and persistently.
Mason growled in frustration and emptied the bottle of water over his head to try and cool down, rubbing his face hard and shaking the droplets off angrily. He hated when Dorcas was right.
Lyra had got the message at dinner and finished her food hastily, not wanting to keep Auror Moody waiting. She promised Dorcas she'd find her in the rec room later and had made her way nervously down the corridors to the Head Auror's office. Moody wasn't always at the compound – he spent most of his time at the Ministry – but when there were problems with the training he used the office there to be closer to it all. He'd explained all of this in their initial brief that first day, and so Lyra knew that the fact he was here meant there was an issue. And she'd been called to the office, which meant that she was the issue.
She felt like a current was running through her, the ends of her fingers tingling and her breathing ragged. Ever since she'd got the fateful letter from her parents she'd lived in even more fear of being kicked out. If she didn't make it as an Auror, she'd leave the institute and be completely alone with no profession to speak of and no money to fall back on. She didn't believe in any Muggle gods, her parents had never even spoken of gods, they only believed in their own superiority and nobility as a family, but she found herself praying like she'd heard Dorcas do under her breath before fights just in case there was someone listening.
She knocked and entered, holding her breath.
Moody looked up from the Daily Prophet and grunted approvingly. "Come in and sit down, girl. And don't look so terrified, you're not in trouble per se."
Per se didn't sound too good.
Lyra sat delicately on the edge of the seat and made sure not to cross her legs or fidget or slouch, retreating into her old habits to ground herself.
Moody gave her a glance over. "You're looking healthier than you did when I saw you in June."
She managed a smile. "Turns out eating enough and exercising is good for you, who knew."
The older man laughed loudly and straightened up in his seat, dropping the newspaper. "I meant it when I said you weren't in trouble. You could've been, but seeing as it's me in charge and I like you, it's alright."
"What… what for?" she asked.
Moody raised an eyebrow. "I'm not saying I'm annoyed that you beat McKinnon, he deserves to be taken down a peg or two, but using an unregistered spell against an Auror is.. dodgy, to say the least."
She swallowed. "I – I hadn't even thought of it like that, I was just trying to win. He wasn't hurt, was he?"
"He wasn't, and in fact the only reason I know about this spell was because he came to me ranting and raving about how good it was and how I was right to accept you early."
"Oh," she said, eyes widening as a smile crept across her features.
"I've just brought you in to remind you to maybe not do this all the time, and if you'd like to get your spells registered in order to use them – bloody well speak to one of us first," he said firmly.
She nodded hastily. "Yes, Sir, it won't happen again."
"Again? You have more spells?" Moody chuckled.
"Well, a couple. But not tested as much," she admitted, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
Moody hadn't been joking when he said she looked healthier: when she'd appeared in his office at the Ministry in June clutching her credentials and begging him to take her this year, she'd looked half dead. She'd been dressed exquisitely, a ring on her finger and not a hair out of place but her cheekbones had stood out sharply and her eyes had been flat, not bright and dancing like they were now. Moody never really got on with the recruits and normally found them unbearable for the first year or two, but he'd taken a liking to her, as he had with McKinnon a few years before, and his gut instinct was never wrong. There was something about her, something he admired and was very glad that spark hadn't died before she'd got out.
He smiled at her and nodded. "Well as long as you don't go around attacking all my Aurors, I'll make sure we can get some of these creations out into the world."
"Seriously?" she breathed, grinning now. "You mean it?"
"They're good, Black, and having something unique up our sleeves will be very advantageous," Moody chuckled. "Now get out of my office."
"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir!"
"And tell McKinnon from me that I wish I'd been there to see him lose."
She laughed as she closed the door, leaving Moody sat smugly in his chair as he glanced back at his newspaper.
Mason hissed in pain as Dorcas sponged down the cut on his upper arm and he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Don't be a baby," Dorcas muttered, wetting the sponge again and continuing to clean the wound. "It's just water."
"Water with Dettol in, Dorcas!" Mason cursed.
"Well you shouldn't have got injured then, should you?" she retorted, gesturing with her other hand to her bandage free self.
"It was either me or James, and I wasn't letting that happen," he protested.
Dorcas stayed silent until she'd finished cleaning the wound and wrapped the thick bandage around it to hold it together. They'd normally do this with magic, but neither of them were good enough to work around the residue magic in the wounds and then heal them, and they couldn't go to St. Mungo's or the nurse at the training camp because both would involve way too many questions. She sat back on her chair and watched Mason lower himself on to his bed gingerly.
"You know you don't have to jump in front of every curse coming their way, Mason?" she asked, her voice lower now.
They'd been in the Order together for nearly two years, he'd been doing it even longer and she knew him better than most – he was a Gryffindor through and through but in him it manifested itself into jumping into dangerous situations to avoid letting his friends do it.
"They have a son, Dorcas, I'd rather it was me than them," he snapped back, rolling his shoulder carefully to test the limits of the injury.
"There's being heroic and then there's being stupid, and you walk that line constantly," she huffed, "You're exhausted. You take every mission Dumbledore gives you and you come back and fall into bed. You snap at everyone all day and grumble to me all night. You're still managing to teach because you're a stubborn git but it's cracking, Mason, you can't do this forever."
"I'll do it until we've won the war," he muttered.
She tilted her head to the side. "And how long is that going to be? You'll give a hundred and ten percent until we win or until you die and we both know it."
"Then I'll d-"
"Don't even fucking say it, you arsehole," she snapped, throwing the sponge at him hard. "Why are you so determined to give everything for this?"
"Because if we don't, He wins."
"And if you die, we lose even if we win," she breathed, wiping her eyes angrily. "If you die on some stupid mission because you're exhausted and reckless and don't want anyone else to do the things you're volunteering for, then we lose you and then we lose. Your mum? Marlene? Me? Countless other friends! We don't want you dead, you twat!"
"Dorcas, do you not think you're escalating this a bit?" he sighed. "Me stopping James – who has a wife and child – being hurt is not the same as what you're saying."
"I know that, Mase, but I'm saying I want you to be careful. Your life is just as precious as theirs," she whispered, packing up their first aid kit.
"I'm always careful!"
Dorcas scowled. "You're not," she snapped, "Which is precisely why you're hurt and I'm not. I'm just saying, keep yourself alive, dickhead, because I'd miss you."
"I'd miss you too, Dorky," he smiled tiredly. "Now I am going to sleep before you tuck me in like a baby."
"Good boy," she sighed, blowing him a reluctantly affectionate kiss. "See you in the morning."
Mason mumbled something in response as he got ready for bed, and Dorcas clicked the door shut with a long sigh..
Dear Sirius,
Thank you for the letter. It still feels weird that you sent it, I know how much you hated writing them as a kid, but it only meant that I appreciated it more. I'm not entirely sure what triggered it, but I'm not complaining.
Mason mentioned that you found out I was in Auror training. I don't know if you know I was disowned too. Probably should've seen that one coming.
I never told them where I went, I just left and hoped I could explain it all away when I got back but somehow they found out and, well, you know the rest. Did it hurt as much for you? I know you never loved them the way I did, loving them is not something I'm proud of, but how did you cope?
Training is going really well, I've made a friend, Dorcas Meadowes (did you know her? Gryffindor, year between us, very curly hair) and I'm hoping that once I graduate and move on to phase two I'll be able to support myself and then it won't matter so much. We'll see, I guess.
I hope it's all going well for you too, let me know what you're up to and if anything ever came of you and that blonde girl! I was watching!
Once I'm allowed back into the real world we'll have to meet up, go for a coffee or something? I've missed you.
Love, Lyra x
"Alright everyone shut up," Mason called, rolling his eyes and finishing his second coffee of the morning. His arm still hurt despite the potion and he'd got next to no sleep, the last thing he wanted to deal with was people talking over him. "I'm sure you've all seen what today is about on the training schedule. It's on there because as Aurors, you often have to make visits to the lovely prison of Azkaban."
The word silenced the last of the muttering.
"And as we all know, in Azkaban there are Dementors. Not fun. So while the Dementors work with the Ministry and should not attack you, their presence is still highly uncomfortable and a Patronus is your best defence from them."
He dropped the coffee cup into the bin and stood up. "Who can summon one? Corporeal or incorporeal, I don't care."
Just over half the room raised his hands, which was a pretty good fraction. Patronuses were harder to cast than most people realised and even in a group of people who had joined because they were good with magic, this was impressive.
"Good! Okay not as shit as I was expecting," he said with a grin. "Now put your hands down if it's incorporeal – you don't have a distinct animal form."
Half the hands went down, but he was still impressed. Lyra's hand had stayed up for a second and then went down and he shot her a questioning look.
"Okay the group of you that can produce a corporeal Patronus, grab yourselves a couple of people who can produce a weak one, and split up the lot who can't produce one yet," he instructed. "Teaching you lot individually how to cast the spell would take too long, it's a very personal spell, so getting you to help each other is your best bet. Remember, this is what you're aiming for."
He took a second, then said the charm and watched as his sleek black stallion tossed its head and galloped around in the space above their heads. Mason grinned as he watched it move and then let the memory fade, the horse vanishing into thin air.
"Okay, let's go!" he chuckled.
Dorcas, who could produce a very sweet little squirrel, grabbed Lyra and gathered a few others happily, eager to practise. Mason gave a brief breakdown of the spell and how to cast it and then promised he'd be around the groups to help with any issues that came up before making a beeline for Dorcas' group. She was very animatedly explaining the process behind casting a Patronus and so Mason sidled up to Lyra who was only half listening and nudged her side.
"What was with the hand going down?" he asked quietly so as not to interrupt Dorcas who was doing a good job at teaching the others. It wasn't that he was disappointed she couldn't cast a full charm but seeing as it was an indication of great magical talent, he was surprised.
"It's complicated, I don't really… I don't really understand it. I can cast one, it's definitely there, I can feel it, but I don't see an animal."
"Do you see the silver mist coming from your wand, like with an incorporeal one?"
She shook her head. "I'll show you. There's /something/ but it's nothing like any descriptions I read."
Mason nodded and took her to one side to let Dorcas continue teaching. "Go ahead.
Lyra levelled her wand and focussed on her happy memory as strongly as she could, letting the feeling wash through her. "Expecto patronum."
She felt the magic work, felt the rush of energy, and when she glanced up, she saw nothing as she always did.
Mason on the other hand, took a step back in surprise, his eyes following something around the room. Dorcas looked up too, her eyes wide, and someone on the other side of the room yelped and backed away in fear.
"Get that thing out of here!" Dean said frantically, "It's bad luck!"
Lyra just followed Mason's eyes and stared hard, seeing for the first time the silver mist that surrounded normal Patronuses moving around the room seemingly by itself. "What thing?"
Mason laughed and shook his head. "Incredible, I've never seen one as a Patronus before. I didn't even know you could have them as your Patronus, actually. I assume you've never seen someone die?"
Lyra turned to him in shock, "Why would you ask that? That's an awful thing to say!"
"Bear with me," Mason said and motioned to her wand so she ended the spell and cast an apologetic look over to the boy who still seemed shaken.
"I'm confused," she admitted, "If there's an animal there, why can't I see it?"
"I didn't think the characteristic would carry over to a Patronus but then again I'd never really thought about it," he mused, meeting her eye. "Your Patronus is a thestral."
"A thestral?"
"Yep, which is… well, I'd assume rare, I didn't even know you could have magical animals as your Patronus."
"Dumbledore's is a phoenix, it is possible," Dorcas added, having paused her explanation to watch the display.
"You could see it too?" Lyra asked her and her friend nodded, her braids bouncing. "I had no idea. I just thought I couldn't do it properly. Is it still useful if I can't see it?"
"You felt the magic working, though?" Mason pointed out, "I assume you'd be able to control it just as anyone else would, you just can't see the animal itself."
"Okay," she sighed, "As long as I'm not just messing it up somehow."
"Thestrals are really sweet, actually, they get a bad rep," Dorcas smiled. "I was friendly with Hagrid, he's got that herd of them in the Forbidden Forest and I'd go and feed them when I was stressed. Be proud, they're a good guardian to have."
"Is it bad I want to be able to see it?" Lyra asked, "Obviously death is horrible, but I think I'd feel a bit more secure with the charm if I could reliably see what I was sending towards the Dementors."
"Wanting to know death isn't bad at all. You know you don't just have to see someone die to know it?" Mason pointed out gently. "It's more… an understanding of it. Accepting it and coming to terms with the finality of it works too, and it's an important thing to do."
The room had slowly returned to their own practising, letting them talk more privately.
"Have you seen someone die?" she asked quietly.
"I have, but I could see thestrals before that."
"If you don't mind me asking… how?"
Mason smiled sadly. "Thestrals pull the carriages at Hogwarts, if you didn't know, and I could see them from about third year. My little brother, Mark, he's ten, but he was born with a lot of health issues. For a while after he was born, we didn't know whether he'd be okay, or if my mum would be either. You learn to face death pretty quickly when you spend most of your time in the critical care ward of Mungo's. Thirteen year old me struggled a long time with that idea, and I know when I went back for fourth year, there were skeletal horses pulling the carriages where there had once been nothing."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," Lyra said, horrified that she'd asked him about something so personal.
"Oh Merlin no, it's okay, they were both okay, and if you tried to tell Mark he was poorly now he'd run you over with his wheelchair, but I'd obviously accepted death enough to be able to see them, and my sister can see them too."
He decided not to add that since then, he'd seen plenty of people die both through the Auror work and the Order work, and with the growing number of innocent casualties, he would be sorely surprised if most of the Order hadn't either seen or accepted death – he knew that was why Dorcas could see them.
Lyra watched him silently but she nodded and smiled. "Still, thank you for telling me, I know it can't be easy."
He chuckled. "Ancient history now. But I had unfortunately better go and help other people. Something in my job description or whatever," he joked and she laughed, feeling better about her weird charm casting already.
"Alright. Good luck. I'm going to go and apologise to Dean for scaring him half to death," she grinned.
"Good decision," he snorted, "See you later."
Lyra smiled and slipped away to locate the boy who'd been able to see her Patronus, as Mason circled the room to answer questions and trouble-shoot any of the other recruits' attempts to cast a Patronus
By the end of the session, most people could cast an incorporeal Patronus, and a few more had advanced from the silver smoke to a full animal and Mason was suitably pleased.
"Okay guys that's it for today. We're going to keep practising this for a few more sessions because I want to make sure your charms are solid even if it's nothing corporeal yet – it's much easier to cast them now in a safe environment surrounded by friends than it is when you're surrounded by Dementors reminding you of every horrible memory you've had. Make sure to be consciously aware of happy memories and maintain focus. Good work today though, I'm impressed," he grinned. "You're free to go."
Despite the positive message, Lyra shivered at the thought of the Dementors and headed out quietly with Dorcas.
11th October 1980
pThe sound of the punches echoed dully in the empty training room as Lyra headed in to do some practise. She'd wanted the room to herself and was ready to find somewhere else when she saw the man at the punching bag was Mason and not another recruit.
"Hi," she called, dumping her bag against the wall and making her way over to him, pulling off her jumper.
He jumped at the sound of her voice, having been very focused on punching the bag to death, and pulled back, wiping his forehead and trying to catch his breath.
Lyra hadn't realised he'd been training so intensely and did a double take at the sight of him, realising with a jolt that he was topless. Her eyes flickered down automatically – she was only human – but she corrected herself quickly and pointedly didn't look down again.
Mason barely noticed. He grabbed his water and turned away for a second to try and compose himself before he looked back at her.
"Are – are you okay?" she asked tentatively, moving towards him and reaching her hand out before freezing, realising that not only should she not touch him, it also didn't seem like a good idea. The agitation was visible in his hunched shoulders and his clenched jaw, so she dropped her hand and waited.
"Sorry, I'm just… not in a good mood," Mason muttered, straightening up and turning back around slowly.
"Want to talk about it?" she smiled.
He knew that he couldn't talk about it as much as he wanted to. The mission to track Caradoc down had failed. There was no blood in his house from the attack, there was no trace, no message, no word of him from their sources, and the attempt to break into a Death Eater base and search for him had only found bodies, none of them his. Mason wanted to scream. Dumbledore was still saying that no body was a good sign and that they shouldn't lose hope, and Mason was quickly growing frustrated. None of this was information he could tell Lyra.
"I'd like to, but I can't," he sighed, "It's… classified stuff."
"Ah, that sucks. You can always be super vague and if I put anything together I'll just forget I heard it?" she offered, shrugging.
"That could work," he laughed and sat down against one of the pillars across the middle of the room. No one would find out either, he trusted her.
She sat cross legged opposite him and smoothed out her leggings absentmindedly. "Go ahead," she promised, "No judging or trying to work out what you mean."
Mason snorted and tipped his head back for a moment, sipping his water. "You know when people tell you to keep your chin up and not focus on the negatives except the thing is like… ninety percent negative and it seems ridiculous to pretend it isn't?"
Lyra nodded. "Yeah, like why deny it? It's not pessimism it's realism."
"Precisely! Like we're living through shit times and pretending everything is happy and fun isn't going to help anyone. I feel like I wanna yell so loud sometimes but-"
"But people would say yelling isn't going to help even if you think letting it all out would actually really help?" she finished dryly.
"And you're sure you don't know what I'm on about?" Mason joked, taking a deep breath.
"I think the only solution to this is what I used to do as a kid," she said seriously.
He raised an eyebrow.
"We need to go to the middle of the field, cast muffliato around us and scream as loud as we can for as long as we need to," she said calmly.
"Are you joking?" Mason snorted.
"Nope, not even a little bit. It's super helpful. Sirius was more into punching things, but that's painful so I'd find a spot behind the hedge in our garden, cast the spell and scream to my heart's content. Much better," she laughed. "I'll even come with you, if you want company?"
"You really wanna do this?" he laughed too, "Didn't you come here to practise or something?"
"Yeah but we have a more pressing issue on our hands. Come on, get up and get a shirt on or something."
He remembered that he was topless and went red, "Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for," she said quickly, and then realised how that sounded. "Not because I'm, like, looking – I just mean it's not a problem – shoot, now it sounds even worse, I'm just not annoyed, you know?"
Curse Dorcas and that notebook. Now she'd actually seen him and could confirm that he was, as her friend had said, shredded, it was going to be even harder to ignore it.
Mason laughed and nodded, grabbing his top quickly to spare her any more rambling. "I get it, you're safe."
She huffed in embarrassment and pulled her own jumper back on because she doubted her sports bra would keep her warm enough outside.
"They predicted rain, you know that, right," he pointed out, "Are you sure this is going to help?"
"Mason, how do you think I kept it together for eighteen years?" she pointed out.
He just sniggered at that and zipped up his hoodie. "Let's go then, I can let us out of the building."
There were dark clouds gathering overhead but the sun was just dipping below the horizon, sending beams of golden light across the field and through the trees bordering it.
Lyra headed out towards the grass happily, breathing in the evening air and relishing in the quiet of the outdoors. "It's gorgeous out here. I don't miss London at all. I think the countryside is where I belong, you know?"
"You'd like my family's house. It's right at the end of this super long lane, so Muggles don't bother us at all, and we've got a little stream, a pond full of frogs and it all just looks out onto the fields," Mason described, expression softening at the mention of the McKinnon home. He'd moved out after graduation, of course, but nothing was home quite like that house.
She walked alongside him, trying to keep pace with his longer legs, looking up at him with a smile. "It sounds gorgeous. I miss the Hogwarts grounds and the lake. Grimmauld Place has a garden but it's tiny and really only there because we aren't allowed to expand the house out that way, and I wasn't allowed to just wander round London. Summer was horrible stuck in the house the whole time."
"What did you do all summer?" Mason said, amazed. He slowed down when he noticed she was trying to keep up, realising just how much shorter she was.
She shrugged. "Stayed in my room if there wasn't some horrific social event on. Don't get me wrong, I'm no rebel, I learned all the dances as a kid, I played all the instruments and I do love dinner parties and balls. I got new dresses and had my hair done, that was all good, but this summer was different."
"Different how?" he frowned.
She looked off into the distance and bit her lip. "I graduated, and although it wasn't actually announced until late June, I was effectively engaged the day after I left Hogwarts. The whole summer was what he wanted. I was next to him at every event, I had dinner with his family, he'd escort me to everything. I wasn't even Lyra Black, whoever that was, I was a piece of furniture," she whispered.
Mason scowled down at the ground. "It's bullshit."
"It is," she agreed, glancing back at him with eyes that looked far older. "I'm not saying I'm a great person, I didn't leave home for some noble reason like Sirius, I'm not doing this because I railed against everything they believed in and wanted to make a difference. I left home because I knew I couldn't live like that."
"I think you're a great person," he protested, stopping walking abruptly to brush her shoulder, forcing her to look up at him properly.
She smiled and shook her head. "I'm not a bad person, no, but I sat at their tables and agreed with what they were saying for a long time. I'm unlearning a lot of it now, sure, but I left selfishly."
"It's not selfish to not want to be married off to someone like that," he promised.
She laughed, the sound carrying in the still, humid air. "Oh no, that isn't selfish, he was a dick, but it is selfish to only make a stand when their beliefs affect me and not when they've been affecting Muggleborns my entire life."
"Well I don't think it matters," he said honestly. "You got out, no matter what reason you left for, you did leave and that's the important thing."
"Thank you," she said quietly, noticing that the tension in his jaw had melted away.
Mason looked up quickly as a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. "Shit."
"We'd better get this screaming done quickly then," she quipped, clearing her throat jokingly.
"You know, I don't even feel like screaming any more," Mason admitted.
"I'm glad."
Another, longer round of thunder made both of them shiver despite the warm air.
"I love storms," Lyra smiled, "This is a proper one too, which makes it even better."
"We should find a tree or something," Mason said, scrunching his nose up as light rain started to fall, dappling his t-shirt with darker air.
"Right, sure, I want to be under a tree when the lightning starts," she snorted, "Here is much safer."
"You're the one that convinced me to come outside as a storm was forming, you idiot!"
She shrugged. "I didn't know it was going to happen, but now it's here I want to enjoy it!"
"Well you're on your own, I want a hot shower and my bed," he laughed. He stepped back but she stayed where she was, grinning brilliantly.
"Here it comes!" she called, a flash of lightning ripping through the sky and illuminating the clouds some distance away as the storm broke. The thunder hit ten seconds later.
"The storm isn't even close, Mason, just stay?"
"You're crazy!"
She tipped her face up to the sky as the rain started to fall properly, soaking him to the skin almost immediately and he cursed.
"There's no point going inside now," she protested, pulling her hair out of its ponytail, knowing it was going to be worse to deal with if it was all wet and tangled up.
Mason continued to mutter under his breath, but walked back over to her, shaking his wet hair. "Fine."
"Stop being so grumpy," she laughed, holding her hands out and letting the heavy raindrops crash onto them. "Late summer storms are beautiful, just look around you! It's incredible! Wet clothes will dry!"
Mason rolled his eyes but there was something crackling in the air and he looked down at her and her massive dark eyes and knew he wasn't going to walk away. Every time he looked into them he felt like he was drowning. He'd never seen eyes like hers: they were dark, like Sirius', like the whole family, but hers never looked black – there was always a million lights dancing behind them, like she'd managed to trap fireflies inside, and every time he saw them, properly saw them, they took his breath away. He couldn't even remember what he'd been upset about.
She smiled at him and then looked away to watch the rain pour down, the lightning continuing to dance above them, and he did the same, feeling a weird sort of peace descend on the field. It was just the two of them, silent apart from the thunder and the noise of the rain, and he felt calmer than he had in a long time.
Once she was satisfied that he was actually watching the storm, she snuck a sideways look at him, a smile still curving the corners of her mouth. From this angle she could see the cut of his jaw and his hair plastered to his forehead. He still had the bandage on his arm and several other bruises, and she let herself sweep the rest of his body with her gaze – it wasn't her fault the rain had soaked him and the shirt he'd pulled on before was clinging to him so much that he might as well not have worn it at all. She wouldn't have minded if he hadn't, honestly.
Despite understanding how he was feeling, she didn't know what he'd been talking about and she was concerned, more concerned than she probably had any right to be, honestly, and her heart rate quickened when she realised that he probably didn't think of her as anything more than a recruit who had caused more than her fair share of trouble. Her gaze rested on his lips, as her thoughts had far too often recently, and she sucked in a quiet breath, trying not to disturb him. The anger from earlier seemed to have gone and she was glad she could help, even if it was just with this. Lyra wanted to reach up and brush his hair back and tell him that whatever it was would be okay, but she kept her hands firmly by her sides, her feelings churning inside her.
He eventually felt her eyes on him and turned his head, catching her staring.
She blinked, feeling guilty, and opened and then closed her mouth again, not sure what she'd even say. Mason didn't speak either, not wanting to break the silence.
Drawn to him and the unreadable expression in his eyes, she stepped forwards until there was barely any space between them and she could feel the heat radiating off /
She wanted to kiss him. Here, soaking wet with her hair a mess around her face and the jumper hanging damply off her, she had never felt so peaceful, and so in tune with someone else, and she thought he felt it too. She prayed he did, anyway.
The air felt electric. She could barely breathe.
She licked her lips nervously, embarrassed as though he could read her mind, and tucked her wet curls behind her ears, her chin tilting up as the rain ran down his face and dripped onto hers. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath, wishing more than anything that he'd lean down and kiss her.
The rain seemed to get heavier and an involuntary shiver ran through her at the next roll of thunder and she opened her eyes again to see him just inches away, lips parted slightly. There was a long pause as his eyes ran over her greedily, drinking her in before the look faded like the storm clouds rolling back overhead.
"You're cold," he said gently.
"No, no, I'm fine," she whispered, but the moment was gone and she could see the shift as he became aware again of where they were – and who they were.
"We should head inside," he smiled, but he wiped a raindrop from the end of her nose softly and stepped back.
Her chest tightened but she nodded and wrapped her arms around herself, reluctantly following him back inside. The need to be close to him had lessened, but he stayed next to her anyway, like he felt it too and didn't want to let it go just yet. They didn't speak again as they walked back to the building, the electricity of the storm still sparking around and between them.
