Squaring her shoulders, her eyes hardened staring down the door to Umbridge's office as if the walls would decide to hide the room. But it was time to face the music, so Lyra extended her hand knocking politely on the door. (What she really wanted was to blast it open and laugh manically as if splintered possibly injuring Umbridge in the process, maybe she could pass that idea off to Peeves later…)

"Come in." Umbridge called sweetly, almost singing the word in anticipation and Lyra cringed and opened the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

Eyeing Umbridge and that awful cat picture she held tightly within her meaty hands, distastefully, Lyra waited patiently for instruction. Setting it down purposefully next to similar pictures, Umbridge smiled sweetly, her plastic face staying smooth and unmoving aside from the twitch and curve of her lips.

But she met Lyra's solemn eyes confidently. "How good of you to come on time. Being on time is one of the first makings of a proper lady." She said bringing her hand up to hide her mouths as she gave that sneering laugh.

Lyra discreetly bit the inside of her cheek, trapping her tongue between her teeth as well to keep herself from saying anything further.

"Are you ready to tell me who you gathered those fireworks from? There is no need to protect them Mr. Filch is quite certain he knows who they belong to, very determined man that he is, and they'll be in my office soon enough." Placing her hands delicately in her lap, she turned eager eyes to Lyra. "There is no reason for you to do tonight's detention if you'd be kind enough to tell me…who."

There was a pause, a thick silence blanketing around them as Lyra stared Umbridge down expressionless. Inside she raged at the idea that Umbridge thought she could be swayed with a delicate promise to skip out on her detention tonight. She honestly felt like ripping her own brown waves from her head and shrieking the damage was done as she shoved her scared hand into Umbridge toad/plastic face!

But Lyra continued to stare, her lips firmly held shut. "Very well." Umbridge murmured, deflating, and to Lyra's pleasure broke the eye-contact first.

She settled down at the desk in front of Umbridge, reaching for the quill to just get it over with when a teacup set down in front of her with a delicate 'clink'. It was delicate, pretty, pink, and looked so fragile and innocent that Lyra was instantly weary of the piece of china wear. "How about a cuppa before you begin your lines?" Umbridge questioned stirring her own tea. But the supposed disarming smile on Umbridge face only led Lyra to the conclusion she should not under any circumstances allow a drop of tea anywhere near her mouth.

"No thank you ma'am.." Lyra said a polite smile on her face though mentally sneering at the women. "I stop drinking liquids of any kind after dinner. My grandfather says caffeine before sleep keeps the mind up and alert when it can do what it does best." Like she needed something else to keep her up all night.

"And what is that dear?" Umbridge asked, clearly disappointed her efforts had failed and with a flick of her wand the cup and matching saucer sat back on the tea-tray.

Meeting her eyes Lyra smiled mysteriously but didn't answer. "Begin your lines, same from yesterday." Umbridge replied frustrated with the lack of responses the girl had given her.

Sitting at the desk, her eyes locked on the quill that sat ready to begin. Well she wasn't entirely ready yet. "You may begin." She repeated, a touch of steel in her voice that Lyra knew she didn't exactly have a choice in the matter.

Her hands weren't up to cooperating though, as it shook in her lap bunch and twisting in her skirt. 'Move.' She urged her unwilling body silently. 'Move, dammit!' Finally her hand slowly reached out toward the quill as if it were going to bite. No, biting she could handle. This quill was pure evil and she was about to do much worse.

As her hands curled around the writing utensil she idly wondered if You-know-who had a couple hundred of these in stalk.

Weary, Lyra mentally grumbled why she couldn't have been born ambidextrous just to give relief for one hand. Hesitantly she began to write.

Hissing in pain as the quill dug deeper she tried to continue quickly enough so she wouldn't feel the burn. Over and over she wrote the words burying them deeper and deeper into her skin as her nerves shrieked in protesting agony. Her hand was on fire and she was on the verge of breaking down and just weeping. Her vision blurring as tears begged to just slide down her cheeks to offer watery comfort a small relief from the pain.

'Don't you dare!' She silently ordered herself even as one large tear dripped down her cheek. 'No more!' Lyra commanded mentally, willing the water from spilling. She may not have had blinding courage but she had her pride! And damn it if she would weep like a babe in front of Umbridge!

Despite the pain her dangerously tense body complied and not another tier escaped despite her eyes being red and puffy from suppressing them. "I think you've gotten the message." A clear dismissal and Lyra tossed the quill unceremoniously on the desk grabbing her bag and stumbling blindly out the door.

Once it shut, her tense posture seemed to melt away. Stumbling into the wall she sagged down to her knees cuddling her bleeding hand again. Her vision blurred again and Lyra allowed herself a whimper. 'You did well.' She praised herself, tenderly stroking her wrist. 'You didn't completely bawl your eyes out in front of that despicably vile woman.' Using the wall she stood shakily pushing her hair behind her ear messily wiping her eyes before taking a breath and grabbing her bag.

Shakily she took a step. But Lyra had to admit she was just a bit tired, exhausted even. Between running from the twins, her sleeping problem, and being tense and tortured. Stumbling again she gritted her teeth, watery eyes blazing void fury. 'dammit move!" She ordered herself viciously pushing off the wall before she'd gotten her balance. Tiredly she stood for a moment.

There was no way around it; she'd have to call Wicky. And as much as he'd appreciate it, Lyra knew he'd still be busy in the kitchens. "Hell..."

An arm slid around her waist. "Don't run this time. You're not up to it." George said with one of his soft boyish smiles. She made a soft strangled noise in surprise but nodded her head in agreement as Fred tossed a familiar arm around her shoulders; she couldn't run even if her life depended on it in this very moment. "Come on." He said quietly and Lyra found she was simply too exhausted to try to escape again.

Besides, as much of pranksters as they were, no matter how cruel one half seemed, neither of them would kick her while she was down and injured.

"We'll bring you to the common room." They said in quiet unison and she nodded as they guided her back toward the Gryffindor common room, stopping so Fred could scoop up her bag tossing it over his shoulder before they continued.

Silently while cradling her hand she chanced looking at them through her bangs.

George was more transparent in his worry. His eyes would flick down to her every so often to check to see if she was still conscious, this thumb idly stroking her waist in silent comfort.

Fred kept his eyes stubbornly straight. He may have looked like he was simply strolling down the hall with a bird wrapped in his arm, but Lyra could feel the way his fingers would tighten on her shoulder every so often giving her a small glimpse of his angry thoughts.

"Who.." She had the word out before she could fully process she'd actually spoke. In a whisper, but technicalities, she'd spoken to them. So meeting George's encouraging eyes she licked her dry lips before speaking again. "Who told you about.." Trailing off as they stood before the Fat Lady, who eyed them curiously.

"Licorice Twist." Fred said sharply and the Lady inclined her head with a soft 'correct' and allowed them entry to the common space.

They led her to the couch stationed before the fire, and she looked around briefly only to roll her eyes. Really did anyone else live in this old castle? It seemed like when the twins found her there was no one around.

And usually this would be like a fantasy come true, but now she had no clue what they were going to do to her.

Once situated, Fred disappeared up the stairs and she turned her head eyeing George wearily as he studied her. "Harry told us." He finally answered watching as she clutched the wrist of her injured hand, making a mental note of it absently.

Nodding for him to continue he gave a slightly wry smile. "After Peeves little show – thanks for giving a mischief-making ghost exploding balls by the way-" Lyra winced and he chuckled shaking his head waving off her apology. "we came back here-"

"Ranting, raving and cursing you for stealing the show." Fred said with a cheeky grin as he reappeared behind her and she gasped jumping up in surprise.

Ignoring her reaction he sat beside her on the couch, mixing the bowl full of something in his lap. Giving her a cheeky grin he winked. "We were just a tad put out a little bird stole out prank. And so effectively too. But once the boy-who-keeps-on-living heard you took our detention he showed us his hands-"

"Right nasty one too." George agreed and lazily smiled. "Our lil' Harry's getting the collection."

"Course, we had a hell'o'va time trying to find your disappearing self." Fred rolled his eyes in agreement.

"Half'of them thought you were a ghost, Angel." Her cheeks flushed rapidly, and Lyra curled into herself. "Lyra, my name is Lyra, Fred." The twins only grinned playfully at her but didn't comment on her correction. "It was Neville who helped us out in the end." George finished the tale with a satisfied smile. But that didn't explain how they found her. Neville hadn't known about her lunch rendezvous with the ghosts. Lyra didn't think it was wise to bring that up. Instead, he motioned toward the bowl. "Here, Granger uses this on Harry. He says it works like a charm." Fred urged reaching out to grasp her hand but Lyra pulled it away wearily.

Fred let on an exasperated sigh rubbing his forehead. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you. It's just Essence of Murtlap, yah? Jeez, you third years…" Lyra frowned shaking her bangs out of her eyes. "Third year!?" She sputtered indignantly. "I'm a fifth year Fred Weasley!"

"Fifth year?" George questioned his brows furrowing together in mock confusion but his eyes twinkled in suppressed laughter. "But you're so…small." Scowling Lyra huffed. "I'm short not small, George! And I'm 5'5. Average height."

"To what? Cornish Pixies?" Fred teased holding her injured hand delicately. Lyra gave him a bewildered look. How in Merlin's bloody awesome name had he done that? With a sly wink he brought it down to the potion, sticking it in before she could protest. She hissed at the initial pain, her eyes filling again. But she banished them quickly and let out a small purr as heer hand was quickly soothed. "Oh that's good." She cooed softly closing her eyes and relaxing. Opening them again, they widened comically as both George and Fred were staring at her intently.

"Um…" She shifted uncomfortably biting her lip in her usual unsure way. "Did you know she would do that if you took the fall for us?" Fred, ever the blunt one, shot off the question before she could ask anything else.

Her eyes fell to her lap. Whoa. Holy Merlin's ghost that was a fantastic skirt they picked for the uniform! It was comfortable; of course not as nice as the tie wrapped in Gryffindor colors. And she'd always liked ties and maybe just maybe if she kept up this mental rant of nothing they would get bored of her silence and leave her alone. Almost like some predators did if their prey played dead.

Until George hooked two lazy fingers under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his waiting until she nervously met his eyes. "You did, didn't you?" Did he have to be so close? Him and his damn alluring scent. It wasn't spicy, like Fred's, but more refreshing kind of scent. Like the mist of an ocean that sprayed up as the waves crashed along a jagged rock. And she could feel the soft puffs of his breath fanning her chin. "Didn't you?" He probed gently and Lyra remembered he'd asked her drunken mind a question. What was it? Didn't she what?

Didn't she know? Oh yes, that.

Licking her top lip she nodded once a short barely noticeable motion, and George's eyes were just so blue and encouraging that she felt comfortable enough to continue her explanation. "I…I noticed Harry's hand. Not many noticed he is good at hiding it. And when I delivered a parcel to her, I recognized the quill on her desk…" She explained quickly her voice soft, though caution lacing every word. What did it matter, really? She'd done the time for their crime and that was that. They didn't need to talk about it anymore.

Apparently seeing the only way to talk to her was to invade her personal space, George's fingers dropped from her chin only for Fred to gently grasp her jaw tilting her head to meet his gaze. Fred's eyes burned with curiosity, glowing brighter from the light of the fire as it caught across the angles of his face. "But you took the fall anyways, why?"

Lyra furrowed her brows trying to force herself to concentrate on the why that she could give them. She would have to transfer schools if she suddenly said 'oh I've only been practically in love with you both since the second half of my first year and Umbridge was going to use that nasty quill and I wasn't about to let that happen..'

They would probably think she was joking. And them laughing at her was not something Lyra believed she could handle.

"Because…" Really was hard to concentrate with his fingers on the delicate skin of her jaw. "Because you didn't know what she would do."

Oh, that was good. She could live with that reply. That was the truth without all the schoolgirl details. And now that she thought of it, she would have switched places with anyone who was on the receiving end of that quill. Umbridge was a bully. Plain and simple. And the Ministry had given her a false sense of security, making the plastic toad believe she was untouchable and therefore could rule over the student body. The fact Umbridge was using an illegal device only confirmed this theory.

It had been so easy to act, Lyra decided, was because of her deep admiration of the twins. She couldn't have, in good conscience, allowed Umbridge a chance to break their spirits if they hadn't known the punishment. Of course, Lyra had no illusions that the twins would stay away from detentions. Neither Fred or George could simply sit back without doing something monumental. But now they knew.

In her silent musings, George had slipped her hand from the murtlap and with exceedingly gentle movement cleaned the hand and began to wrap it again. Fred had dropped his fingers too as he searched her gaze. "And…that's it?" Well hell it was almost as if wanted more.

"I also believe I'm part Hufflepuff, if that helps?" She added helpfully, tearing her gaze from watching George's quick and sure movements, glancing up to give Fred a coy smile.

The twins chuckled, and Fred winked playfully. "Earned your undying loyalty, have we?" He questioned dramatically clutching at his chest. Lyra smiled slightly but didn't comment allowing them to lapse into a small silence.

"There." George said after a moment, finished with her hand. She drew it closer, chancing just a small brush of her fingertips against his wrist. His eyes shot up to hers in surprise, but he didn't comment. "Thank you…" She said gratefully motioning toward her hand.

"No problem, Angel-"

"It's the least we could do." George finished the sentence grinning. Lyra frowned narrowing her eyes at Fred. "Lyra, my name is Lyra, Fred." She repeated only to have them give her nearly identical cheeky grins. The one they gave out like candy when they were up to something.

Grabbing her bag she hugged it to her chest, smiling shyly. "Thanks again…" And turned running up the steps to the girls' dorm as if you-know-who himself was after her.

Glancing in her bag, she spotted a familiar orange package and paused, trotting back down the stairs cautiously.

Fred and George were still there, and they looked deep in a serious conversation. So it surprised her when George noticed her presence and beckoned her over. Fred turned his head watching her curiously.

Digging in her bag, she withdrew the box of fireworks she'd stashed in her bag with every intention of returning them. Their eyes seemed to shine brighter in recognition as she handed them to Fred's eager fingers. "I meant to give them back." George opened his mouth, but Lyra already turned around darting up the stairs.

Looks like she wasn't done running quite yet.

"Well look at this Georgie…" Fred said with a grin tossing the package back and forth. 'Really is an angel, that one." George rolled his eyes with a playful smile. 'Lyra, Fred, her name is Lyra." He teased and Fred chuckled nodding his head. "Right, Lyra."

They were quiet as they gathered the bowl and extra bandages turning to go upstairs to their own dorm, where Lee was already in bed. "Why she keeps running from us, ya think?" Fred asked opening the door to their dorm. "Don't know…have we pranked her before?" "Nah…we would have remembered it." Fred said jumping on his bed.

George frowned using a cleaning charm on the bowl before stashing it away. "Have a grudge on us?" "Nah, we didn't even know who she was until the other day…" Fred countered opening the package, amazed to see all five were still in perfect condition. "No one really did…" George said slowly kicking off his shoes. "Isn't that odd?" He asked unbuttoning his shirt to change for bed. "What is?" Fred asked absently digging through his trunk for his own clothes. "No one really knew who she was. Five years in this school and Neville helped us out, Freddie, Neville Longbottom." Fred paused turning to look at George frowning. "What are you saying? " George shrugged hoping on his bed. "Not saying anything, really. Just pointing out a few things…" Fred nodded slipping under his covers, until something nagged at the back of his mind.

"Hey…" He called to his twin not caring Lee was already asleep; their roommate could sleep through an invasion anyways. George grunted opening his eyes and sitting up. "What?" Fred cocked his head to the side staring at his mirror image. "Did you notice she could tell us a part? She called me Fred, without even second guessing." George waved him off. "Lucky guess, sometimes It happens. Even mum gets us right on occasion."

Fred shook his head. 'No you git, it wasn't a lucky guess. I don't know…its like..she just knew which one of us were which." George nodded slowly in understanding. "We can test it tomorrow." He said finally, dropping back down to his covers.

"If the bird stops running." Fred retorted pulling his covers over his head.