To be a Gryffindor.
Lyra had never been more grateful that she had so few friends (for good reason, but secrets were meant to be kept!). Few enough friends, whom would be hard for the twins to find and use her schedule to play some ghastly prank. They probably didn't even know what year she was in, which would work out to her advantage seeing as they never bothered their brother, Ron, who just happens to be in most of her classes. Of course she was cautious enough to deviate from her normal routine slightly to be at least somewhat unpredictable.
Though lunch in the second floor girls' bathroom with Moaning Myrtle, Wicky and Peeves was something she hadn't been willing to part with. (Hermione Granger may have said a couple of years ago no one ever goes in there, but the seemingly brightest witch of the age hadn't known about Lyra.) It was a highlight of her day despite Myrtle and Peeves bickering and Wicky laughing at their antics.
Rummaging through the basket Wicky brought her for lunch (she swore the little elf almost exploded in excitement when she asked him to bring it to the food for lunch) she withdrew an apple, wincing as her hurt hand banged against the little flap. Pain spread up her arm, quick and sure like a wild fire causing her to whimper. "Lie still hurt…" Wicky whimpered by trying to burrow into her side, wailing.
Lyra rolled her eyes good-naturedly patting the distraught elf on his head, pressing the apple to her nose breathing in its crisp scent; she'd always had a love for apples. The big crimson ones that looked so red it caught your eye from fifty-paces. "Ickle elifie stop your tears!" Peeves demanded, narrowing his eyes.
He too was upset Lyra was hurt, but he didn't need the reminder of what that horrid pink cow had done. He already planned to sweet talk Lyra into more burst juggling balls so he could show Umbridge his skilled aim. The mischievous poltergeist had already locked that bloody cat, Ms. Norris, in a suit of armor in the third floor corridor. Cackling aloud Peeves rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Myrtle glared at him from her spot floating next to Lyra. Wicky stood up indignantly already reaching for the green cylinder of Agate. Peeves blew a raspberry in return, spinning around and around the insulted house-elf.
"If Lie didn't like the meanie ghost, Wicky would have banished you!"
"Ickie, bittie, wittle elf. Lyra won't let you make me toast!" He taunted in that awful rhyme of his. Wicky scowled his ears flopping as he pointed the wand, shooting off red sparks. Peeves hooted taking off his hate to wiggle the bell around mockingly. "Won't catch me smelly elf!" "Wicky is a most clean elf!"
Ignoring the fight behind her, with an ease that came with years of practice, Lyra smiled at Myrtle. The ghostly Ravenclaw wasn't so bad to talk to, until she slipped into that ghostly depression of hers. Lyra could tell she enjoyed being a ghost, but was upset that no one came into this bathroom to speak with her. If it was one thing Myrtle craved, it was attention. "How are you today, Myrtle?" She asked rubbing the skin of the apple with her thumb.
Myrtle sniffed, using her sleeve to wipe away the tears that hadn't been able to fall in fifty years, and with a pitiful whimper she ducked her head, looking up at Lyra through her bangs. "How would you feel…if you were dead..?" The girl hiccupped and Lyra sighed, knowing it was going to be one of those : everyone hates Myrtle' day. "I don't know Myrtle.." She sighed biting into her apple, now she'd be stuck here for a good twenty minutes listening to Myrtle's woes again. "I'm not dead. I wouldn't know…"
"Moping Mertie's always sad, Lyra! Nothing cheers her up! The ickle Ravie only sad cause the only way anyone comes to talk to her is if she floods the floor!" Myrtle growled , quickly appearing in front of Peeves, who'd left Wicky along after ducking his head a couple of times in the sink" Oh sure!" Mrytle roared. "Let's all gain up on poor, moaning, moping Myrtle! No one ever comes to see her because she's too ugly and sad to get any attention!" With a wail she floated high above to the ceiling arching over and diving into her favorite toilet, completely ignoring Lyra's calls for her to come back.
Lyra sighed using her wand to dry a quivering, soaping wet house-elf. "Peeves." Shaking her head. "Why can you and Myrtle never get along?" Her hands going to pick up the remains of lunch and fold the blanket she'd been sitting on. Wicky gasped in horror, nearly having a heart attack once she began, the house-elf immediately rushing over to pick up.
Peeves pouted crossing his arms, the bell jingling as he thrust his nose into the air. "Because she's so ickie." Wincing at the use of the dreaded 'ie' ending word, Lyra glared at him in response. Oh that ghost knew those words made her skin crawl. He only snickered his hands fixing the ruffled collar of his turning to lounge on his back as he floated in circles around her.
"Maybe you could try anyways?" But his face puckered up in distaste as his tongue lulled out disgusted by the mere suggestion of him and Myrtle being friends. Laughing as she hugged Wicky before he disappeared to return to the kitchens, she spoke again giving up her tries of getting Myrtle and Peeves on friendly terms. That was a thousand year job in the making.
"Alright, lemon head, don't get your ghostly knickers in a twist." Peeves grinned wickedly grasping the back of her robes as she squealed, the poltergeist giving her a taste of flight before dropping her outside the door of the girls bathroom. He dropped her and she easily caught her balance laughing merrily as she did so. "Peeves!" "You enjoyed it!" The ghost cackled gleefully, rubbing his hands together. Sticking her tongue out she twirled in a circle, making the expression follow Peeves as he whirled around her.
Until the Bloody Baron crashed the party. He floated into the open expanse of the hall way searching, his face twisted up in anger as he pointed to Peeves. 'You!" Lyra backed up in surprise as the bloody ghost (really she still wasn't sure how that worked out for him, but to each their own she guessed). "Peeves go!" Lyra said frantically, and the ghost needed no further instruction turning invisible to float off down the hall. Not that it helped with the Baron in ghostly pursuit.
Lyra bit her lip staring at the wall the Baron had passed through for a few moments before turning to continue her way down the hall. Peeves hadn't done anything to the Baron lately -he would have dramatically retold and reenacted the thing at least several times- So what had happen to make the ghost so angry?
A soft scoff of a shoe caught her attention and almost instinctively she knew who was around. Slowly she flicked her eyes over to the wall where the Weasley twins stretched out casually against the wall, George's leg bent at the knee his foot propped up on the wall behind him.
They were like freaking cats! How had they snuck up on her!? Oh she was so sending them a couple of bells for Christmas. Even if she had to tie them down and put it around their necks…Her cheeks heated at the image of her actually tying them down.
But why were they her-oh she was stupid. Completely and utterly idiotic. How could she not have realized…How obvious! And she fell for it! Damnit all!
"You sent the Baron after Peeves didn't you?" Lyra squeaked, a heavy sigh escaping her with another rise and fall of her chest. Fred turned that wickedly slow smile on her as George nodded in agreement lips quirked up at the ends.
Cheeky bastards were probably pleased their plan worked so well. "Should I even ask how you found me?" Lyra questioned in exasperation edging back down the hall.
Fred winked. "Ask us no questions-"
"And we'll tell you no lies." George finished in a sing-song voice, before he pushed off the wall strolling toward her. "Look, we need to talk-"
Nope, nu-uh, she was not staying along with them! She wasn't ready for them to get revenge. It wasn't going to happen not as long as she had two legs and a will. So she put them to good use, spinning on her heel to run down the hall.
Good thing her grandfather had trained her in endurance and dodging, both of which she'd become exceptional in. Groaning to herself, Lyra huffed pumping her legs to push herself faster she had to get far away. It was almost as if they thought it was a game she was playing or something. But she had to get away, and quickly. She didn't dare turn back to see if they were following. That's how you get caught, at least that's what usually happen in the muggle movies…
"Gotcha!" Being scooped up by one lean arm, her feet lifting off the ground she squealed and struggled. Damnit her grandfather forgot something in his lessons of avoiding the enemy; what did you do when your opponent cheated –because it was completely cheating!- and used secret passage ways to caught you off.
"Let me go!" She pleaded thrashing about in Fred's arms (she would recognize that deliciously spicy scent of his anywhere) flailing her arms and kicking her legs.
"No can do sweetheart!" He grunted from the effort of keeping her still, flashing a strained grin. Good obviously she was putting up more of a fight than he thought. "We…stop it…blimey, calm down-ow!"
A well placed elbow to his gut had him dropping her. She landed and geared up to run again but George reacted quicker grabbing her hand.
The hand Umbridge made her use to bloody quill with!
Her injured hand.
With a strangled scream/yelp she collapsed to her knees cuddling the hand. It shook as pain burned through her, pain shocking up her arm jumping from nerve to nerves. She hugged the injured appendage to her chest whimpering in pain, tears burned up her eyes as the salt stung relentlessly. She rubbed her cheek comfortingly against her wrist. Cursing herself and her low pain tolerance she didn't bother sparing a glance at the boys.
George shared a pained, guilty look with his twin. He hadn't meant to hurt the little bird, they had honestly only wished to talk to the girl. They followed her example, falling to their knees. Fred scooted closer to the injured fifth year, tossing a comforting arm over her shoulders. George, who taken his place in front of her, offered a soft smile as she eyed them both suspiciously. "Let me see.." He coaxed, holding out his hand wiggling his fingers in invitation.
Stubbornly Lyra shook her head, ducking her head to shield the hand from his gaze. She'd always had a low pain tolerance in her hands and scalp. No way was she letting George hold her hand (no matter how much she wanted to let him, and Salazar's birthday pajamas did she want him to! oh…and oh…Fred was holding her. Focus! Focus...) when even the simplest touches caused her to wince. So no, she wasn't 'letting him see' she wouldn't be handing over her hand willingly.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Lyra missed the silent conversation between brothers in a mixture of eyes and shifting brows. Only when Fred's arms tightened and he slipped his arm around her waist did she think something was up. She struggled half-heartedly against them as George successfully pride her hand away from her chest, the tips of his ears burning as his fingers brushed against her chest once he curled his fingers around her small wrist, marveling at how small it was.
He undid the bandages with a few careful flicks of his fingers (magic undid bindings a bit rough) and frowned deeply. She stiffened instantly at Fred's small growl, feeling the vibrations through her back, once George maneuvered her wrist to allow his brother a better vantage point.
'I must not tell lies' was etched deep and angry into her hand. The skin was still red and tender despite the slight beginnings of a scab over the words. They would scar for sure, as Lyra suspected, was Umbridge's intent. The lesson could never be forgotten that way.
What a bitch.
But both boys were staring at her hand, not speaking. Though she could certainly feel Fred shaking in rage or something else Lyra wasn't exactly planning on asking the boy. Distraught by their lack of response she spoke feeling as if she owed an explanation for the words she had to carve into her skin. "She…she didn't believe me." Lyra said softly, flushing as George's finger tips gently traced the angry skin. She winced and he sent her a tender apologetic smile. "About the fireworks…but I..Filch…" Turning her head she gasped softly, unaware of how close Fred face had actually been to her.
So close the tip of her nose skimmed the soft skin of his pale cheek and she quivered from the contact. It seemed so…intimate. And then he did something he shouldn't have done because her poor racing heart just couldn't take the abuse; he turned his head so they were nose to nose his blue eyes dark and heady with anger. "Filch what?" He asked softly, his breath fanning her lips and she was hyper aware of George's loose fingers still on her hand.
Oh they were both so cruel! But to their credit, Lyra grudgingly conceded just this once, neither of them realized they were affecting her so much. She would have argued otherwise, if she weren't injured. Both twins were a meddling gift/curse to the witches of the world.
"Filch knew they were yours." -cue arrogant matching smiles- "But I didn't tell them anything." She said half pleading, as if that would get her off of any prank they were going to pull on her later. But it was worth a shot. Maybe being this close to Fred, he could see the sincerity in her puffy completely unattractive eyes and convince George they should leave her be.
She probably had a better chance of asking Filch to tango with her while wearing Ms. Norris as a mink.
But his eyes seemed to soften, lightening to the original dodger blue and not the dark navy they'd become in anger. "Of course you didn't." George soothed and the spell she'd been under gone as she looked at George flushing slightly. She was feeling a bit light headed now, and both of them had to let her go or else she'd become a stuttering fool again.
"Come on." George cooed after a moment, his voice alluring as she stared up at him, reminding George of a new kitten ready to see the outside world for the first time. Fred smiled in encouragement as they both stood up. "What? Where?" She asked dizzily that spicy scent clogging her mind and making her all fuzzy and distracted.
And she was not going to be one of those girls, despite feeling as if she were the damsel in distress at the moment.
"Just come on..." Fred said impatient, insistently tugging on the sleeve of her uniform robe. "No." She said pulling her hand from George's drip, side stepping Fred. "I'm not going with either of you." But she wanted to. Oh Merlin did she want to follow them just to see where they would be going.
Five years she'd wanted to talk to them, five years of trying to convince herself they wouldn't start laughing if she attempted a conversation or a compliment on one of their brilliant inventions.
And all it took was for her to injure her hand. Well, that certainly did wonderful things to her ego.Not.
But that did not mean she was going to just walk off with them! She was tired (endurance or not, she just kept running from them) in pain, (thank you so fucking much Umbitch!) and embarrassed (Godric knew why, she just was) and she had double potions next. Joy, as if today couldn't get any worse…
So she did what any black sheep Gryffindor would do in her place; she ran. And this time, there was no great chase of the carrot tops. Running all the way down to potions, clumsily re-tying her bandages, Lyra hid in the back (a place Snape tended to overlook).
Brewing her antidote quietly, Lyra couldn't stop the feeling that clawed at her, making the girl believe she was being watched. Rather intently too.
Yeah, that tingle-y eerie feeling that had all the baby fine hairs on the back of your neck standing up making you go batty as you try not to look around but you know you're going to anyways?
Yeah, that's the one.
Cautiously she raised her head searching the room to see if someone was actually watching her or if she was just being paranoid.
Nope, someone was clearly staring at her. The one and only Harry freaking Potter was staring her down.
The boy-who-lived, was staring her down with his large emerald eyes (that bastard and his gorgeous eyes!) curiously as if seeing her for the first time.
Then again, giving her reputation, or lack of, it was no surprise that Harry might actually be seeing her for the first time.
Question was; why he decided to star her down harder than the potion he was working on. He offered her that incredibly messy, yet cute crooked smiled. At least that's what it seemed like he was trying to do it came off more as a grimace than anything as he nodded to her hand. Lyra flicked down in surprise to see the bandaged hand was holding a small vile of newts feet. She gave him a soft coy smile and thumbs up. He chuckled softly and nodded to her returning to his potion.
She was still confused as hell on what that was about though. It was obvious he knew about her injury from Umbridge seeing as they had a matching scar now. But…what? Had the twins told him? But Harry hadn't ever looked in her direction since the sorting ceremony years ago. What…was happening?
"Lyra…the newts feet." Neville whispered, her potions partner. Flushing she nodded putting a foot into the cauldron letting the mixture turn a soft rose color, before shifting to brown. "I think we'll pass this for sure Nev!" She whispered excitedly as he nodded with a sigh. Snape always seemed to have it out for poor Neville…
After class she looked out in the hall cautiously. No Harry and no twins. Relieved and mildly confused Lyra stepped out making her way down to Muggle Studies. Today was beyond weird, and the most excitement shed had in ages!
"Ow!" An apple fell from the sky, hitting the top of her head. But apples didn't fall from the sky (except that one time in charms…) so that meant- "Peeves!" Lyra rolled her eyes leaning down to scoop up the offered fruit dusting it off.
"Hehe! Better watch out Lyra! That's how you lose your head! Just ask ol' Nickie!" Peeves grinned, wide and toothy in delight as she lobbed it back to him. He tossed it back and she smiled tiredly at the ghost catching the fruit with ease. "Today has been weird, Peeves." She declared spinning on her heel to walk backwards as she caught and tossed the apple back. Scowling at her words, he narrowed his eyes. "Are those ickle weasels bothering you again?" He pouted.
He may have a soft spot for the mischief and mayhem the twins caused, he favored Lyra and her tinkling laugh and bright chaos colored eyes. "No, it was Harry this time…he gave me the oddest look today…" She murmured absently catching the apple again, and with a lazy flick of her wrist tossed it over her shoulder turning to face front again.
Making a face, the poltergeist kept the apple juggling it in one hand. "Potty!?" He scoffed. "Potty so boring and nice!" He whined tossing his ghost head side to side as if shaking anything nice he had on him. Stopping before the turn off to her class, Lyra gave her a wide smile her eyes brightened considerably. "Well good thing we have you to break up the day then, huh Peeves?"
He sputtered in surprise before grinning and with a loud rooster call (she knew explaining Peter Pan was a bad idea) he disappeared.
Lyra laughed and scurried inside the class, unaware that Hogwarts resident Book worm was staring her down. Settling back Lyra glanced at the clock in the corner. Muggle studies, dinner and then detention with Umbridge…
How many languages can you say a sarcastic 'lovely' in? I can only think of one and it definitely gets the job done...
Lyra sighed looking down at her hand, her cheeks tinting in a soft pink. But…today hadn't been able bad, had it? Biting her lip she tried to hide her smile had Fred and George really been concerned for her? It had been…nice to be so close to someone. More than nice, actually. She'd more or less quietly craved affection…but she'd felt…not safe exactly, but thrilled in a way as she sat on the hall floor between the twins. A small moment had been shared. And that was enough.
Her secret hadn't allowed her close contact with anyone really; she'd always been so jumpy that if someone even touched her, her secret would be out in the open. A silly fear, seeing as only seers might discover it and the Weasley boys were not seers, but it kept her silent and invisible for the most part.
Glancing at the clock again, Lyra decided that the warm feeling would help her get through Umbridge's detention.
Next! Detention! And Lyra stops running from the guys haha!
-NightzSong
read &review.