Chapter 43: Chapter forty

☆☆☆

(this is a long chapter so be prepared)

The next evening it was time for students to put their names inside the goblet. The goblet stood in the middle of a blue glowing circle, its blue flames flickering. Students were gathered in clusters, whispering excitedly, some daring each other to enter, others simply watching with wide eyes.

Lyra stood slightly off to the side with her arms crossed, her usual expression of detached amusement in place. Next to her stood Adrian Pucey, who was leaning against the stone pillar, watching the spectacle unfold with a smirk.

Around them, stood a group of other slytherins, but she wasn't particularly close with most of them. They were mostly classmates, not friends.

Cedric Diggory was the first to step up, or rather get pushed forward, exuding the kind of effortless charm that made half the school swoon. The Hufflepuff catcher approached the goblet with quiet confidence as slipped his name inside, and stepped back to a round of cheers from his house with a big grin on his face.

And then of course, came them.

Fred and George Weasley practically burst into the space, weaving through students with their usual careless energy, hands raised for high fives as if they were walking onto a Quidditch pitch.

They ran alongside the benches where students were standing and sitting, and towards the end where Lyra stood, their hands outspread like they were some kind of celebrities.

Fred caught her gaze as they neared, and for some some stupid, inexplicable reason, he swerved slightly, aiming his open palm toward her, smirking lightly.

Lyra barely registered the movement before instinct took over.

It was brief second, maybe less. Her fingers met his for the lightest moment which were just enough for her to register the warmth of his skin, before she jerked her hand away as if burned.

Fred noticed.

His step faltered for the slightest fraction of a second, so slight that no one else would have seen it. But Lyra felt it.

He recovered quickly, his easy going grin slipping back into place, but there was something different in his eyes when they flickered to hers.

"Cooold, Arakan," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear over the noise.

"Don't be dense," she shot back, keeping her expression neutral as he looked up at him, scrunching her nose.

His lips quirked like he wanted to push further, but then George shoved him forward, and just like that, they continued on like nothing.

It was ridiculous. Stupid. Reckless.

But yet, she found herself watching him.

The way his shoulders shook slightly with suppressed laughter. The way his eyes gleamed under the glow of the blue flame.

The way he didn't glance back at her, but she knew he was aware of her. Lyra exhaled slowly, pushing down whatever the hell that feeling was.

Adrian nudged her side, brow raised. "What the hell was that?"

"Nothing," she said immediately, ignoring the brunettes gaze beside her.

He scoffed for a second then crossed his arms over his chest. "Whatever." He muttered quietly, but loud enough for her to hear.

"Thank you, thank you!" George Weasley announced grandly, "well, lads, we've done it!"

"Cooked it up just this morning," Fred added, twirling a small vial of potion between his fingers with a cocky grin.

From the sidelines, Hermione Granger shut her book before she crossed her arms, a smile of awareness playing on her lips. "It's not going to work."

This caught the twins' attention, and they both looked at each other with a grin before they both hurried over and kneeled down on each side of her. "Oh yeah? And why's that, Granger?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured at the glowing ring surrounding the Goblet. "You see this? This is an Age Line. Dumbledore drew it himself."

Fred and George exchanged a look before shrugging in unison. "So?" They both asked, unimpressed.

Hermione sighed, as if speaking to particularly slow children. "So, a genius like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled by something as pathetically dimwitted as an age potion." She scoffed.

"Which," George interjected smugly, "is exactly why it's so brilliant."

"Because it's so dimwitted." Fred finished, before he stood up and they interlinked arms.

Fred raised the vial up, same did his twin. "Ready, George?"

"Ready, Fred."

"Bottoms up!"

They downed the potion in perfect sync before they wiped their mouths, and with a dramatic jump, threw managed to cross the Age Line.

For a moment, it actually worked. They landed gracefully, arms raised like victorious champions and they shouted. "Yeahhh!"

Roaring cheers erupted from the students as they strode up to the Goblet, each flicking a piece of parchment into the flames.

Then, the fire flared ominously.

Lyra barely had time to smirk before an earsplitting 'BANG' echoed through the Hall.

A split second later, the Weasley twins were launched into the air like rag dolls. They hit the ground with a crash, sliding across the stone floor before coming to a groaning halt in a heap.

The room erupted into howling laughter.

But the real highlight?

When the twins scrambled to their feet, their once vibrant red hair was now stark white. Long, tangled grey beards cascaded down their chests, making them look like two identical grandfathers.

Fred blinked blearily, gripping his own beard as if it personally betrayed him.

George gaped as he looked at his twin like he was looking at the reflection of a mirror. "You said.."

Fred, who did the same, irritably spat back, "You said!"

And just like that, they lunged at each other, rolling around on the floor in a tangle of robes, beards, and limbs.

The laughter doubled, but Lyra, who was standing off to the side with her slytherin classmates, shook her head with an amused scoff. "Idiots."

The noise in the Hall was so deafening, no one noticed the heavy wooden doors creaking open. Until they did. One by one, students fell silent, heads turning as a tall figure strode in.

Viktor Krum.

His presence was commanding. He walked with the quiet confidence of someone used to being watched, to being admired.

The Durmstrang jewerly glinted on his uniform, his sharp eyes focusing only on the goblet, and the goblet alone, and he gracefully crossed the line, legally.

Without hesitation, he pulled a slip of parchment from his pocket and tossed it into the flames. The blue fire swallowed his name instantly.

And then.

He turned his gaze on her.

Lyra barely reacted.

A single brow arched as she met his stare, her expression unreadable.

Krum, for his part, didn't look away. Instead, a small, almost knowing smile tugged at his lips before he turned and walked toward his fellow Durmstrang students.

Lyra exhaled through her nose, shaking her head slightly.

Then she felt it. That distinct, lingering stare.

She flicked her eyes sideways, just in time to catch Fred Weasley watching the exchange, his usual grin notably absent.

His jaw had tightened ever so slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. But instead, his lips simply pressed into a thin line, his hands shoved into his pockets.

Lyra scoffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "What the hell was that?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. She must've seen visions.

No way Viktor Krum was interested in her.

Adrian Pucey, standing beside her, didn't miss a beat. His smirk was lazy as well as amused when he answered his slytherin friend. "No idea, but I think you're at the top of Krum's bucket list of people to shag out of this school."

Lyra shot him a withering look of disgust, "Charming." but the thought meddled in the back of her mind.

Adrian simply shrugged, unbothered, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "What? It's not like he's subtle. That was a proper once over if I've ever seen one."

She rolled her eyes as she let out a scoff of disbelief. "He looked at me for literally two seconds."

"Exactly."

She huffed in annoyance, but her gaze flickered back to the Durmstrang students across the hall, where Krum had rejoined his group.

He didn't look back at her again, already deep in conversation with his fellow competitors, but the smirk he'd given her lingered in her mind.

Not that it mattered.

Krum was the world famous Quidditch player, the one half the school had been drooling over since he'd stepped foot inside Hogwarts. She wasn't about to join the masses.

Or maybe she should, just for the plot.

☆

Later that same evening, Lyra had spent longer in the library than intended. It wasn't unusual for her.

She often found herself losing track of time when she was buried in books, whether for actual studying or just to escape that auburn haired boy.

She knew he would never visit the library willingly.

The castle was settling into its usual nighttime time, the usual bustling corridors emptying out, Most students had retreated to their common rooms, but Lyra preferred the eerie stillness of Hogwarts at night.

It was the only time the castle wasn't buzzing with mindless chatter or unnecessary rumours.

Her fingers trailed along the cool stone walls as she made her way back from the library, her bag weighed down with books she likely wouldn't read tonight.

She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder, her footsteps echoing faintly.

Then, she heard something.

At first, it was just murmurs, distant and indistinct. But as she rounded another corner, the words sharpened.

Distant voices, sharp and hushed, the kind of tone that came with the intention of keeping quiet but the emotion that made that impossible. It was clearly an ongoing argument.

She hesitated. It wasn't any of her business. She should just walk away. She had better things to do than eavesdrop on someone else's drama.

But something made her pause.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was instinct.

Either way, she followed the sound, careful with her steps as she crept along the corridor. The voices grew clearer as she reached the corner, and slowly and carefully she peeked around the pillar.

"-just being stupid, Fred."

"Oh, so now I'm stupid?" Fred's voice was lower than usual, but there was something sharp underneath.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Fred Weasley stood with his back against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unusually tight.

Across from him, Angelina Johnson.

She stood with her hands on her hips, her expression set in frustration. In between words, her arms were thrown in the air, annoyance clear.

She exhaled sharply, clearly trying to hold onto her patience. "I don't get you sometimes. One minute, you're laughing, joking and acting like none of this matters, hell, like anything matters! Like it's all just some big game."

Fred's jaw tightened. "And the next?"

"The next, you're like this." She gestured down at him vaguely, her expression desperate and furious. "Snappy and distracted, acting like you have something to prove."

Fred let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair as he slightly paced around. "Right. Sorry for not living up to your expectations, Johnson."

Angelina rolled her eyes in disbelief. "What is up with you, Fred? We spent half the bloody summer together, but now that we're back at school, you won't even look at me. You won't even acknowledge my existence."

Fred didn't respond right away. He just exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

Lyra tilted her head with a faint smirk on her lips. This could be satisfying.

Angelina took a step closer. "I don't get it. You act like, like we're just classmates and teammates now, like nothing ever happened. But you know as well as I do that's not true."

Fred's jaw clenched. "Ang, it's,"

"It's what?" she pressed, arms crossing tightly over her chest. "It's nothing? Because it sure as hell doesn't feel like nothing."

Fred shook his head, gaze fixed on the wall behind her as he bit the inside of his cheek, his expression dull.

Angelina let out a bitter laugh. "God, you're so annoying sometimes, you know that? It's like you want to pretend nothing ever happened because that's just easier for you."

She hesitated, her voice lowering. "But is that really all it is?"

Silence.

"Is it because of Lyra Arakan?"

Lyra went rigid. What?

'Oh fuck no, don't drag me into this.' Lyra whispered to herself, her eyebrows furrowed.

Fred's head snapped up, his entire body tensing as if she had physically hit him.

"Angelina.."

"Just answer the question," she interrupted, voice quieter now, more careful.

For a second, Lyra thought he might actually deny it. That he'd scoff, roll his eyes, brush it off like he did everything else. But he didn't.

Fred opened his mouth, then shut it again, like he was still figuring out how to phrase it.

Angelina let out a slow breath, studying him.

"Right," she muttered. "That's what I thought."

Fred exhaled sharply, shifting his weight like he wanted to walk away but couldn't. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, frustration practically rolling off him.

Angelina stared at him, arms crossed tightly, waiting.

"You're being ridiculous," Fred finally said. His voice was much lower now, controlled even, but there was something tight in it that sounded so forced.

Angelina let out a dry laugh. "Am I?"

"Yeah, you are," he shot back, eyes flickering away for half a second before settling back on her. "This, this whole thing you're making up in your head,"

"Oh, making up?" she repeated, tone sharpening.

"Fred, you've been weird since we got back to school. And don't try and tell me I'm imagining it because everyone has noticed. You barely talk to me anymore, and now, I say one name, her name, suddenly you've got nothing to say?"

Fred ran a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath before looking back at her, his expression edged with irritation.

"Angelina, come on. What do you want me to say?"

"I want the truth."

Fred let out a slow breath through his nose, like he was really trying to hold himself back. "Alright. Fine. You want the truth?"

Angelina raised her chin slightly. "That would be nice, yeah."

Fred hesitated. Lyra could tell that he hated this. Hated feeling like he was backed into a corner, like no matter what he said, it would be the wrong answer.

"Lyra and I are not friends," he finally said. "We argue all the time. She annoys the hell out of me. She's a bloody Slytherin, for Merlin's sake."

"But?" Angelina pressed, eyes narrowing.

Fred exhaled, shaking his head. "But nothing."

Angelina gave him a look, unimpressed.

Fred dragged a hand down his face. "Merlin, Ang, I don't know what you want from me."

"I want to know if I've been wasting my time."

That made him pause.

Angelina's voice was quieter when she spoke again, but the hurt laced through it was unmistakable.

"Because I really, really don't want to be that girl, Fred. The one who spends her whole summer thinking something meant something, just to get back to school and realise it didn't."

Fred's stomach twisted uncomfortably. It wasn't like that. It wasn't, because he liked Angelina. He did.

But.

He thought back to the way Lyra's brow arched whenever she challenged him. The way she never backed down, never let him get away with anything.

The way she rolled her eyes like she was so above him, but still met his pace, step for step.

He thought about earlier that day, when Krum had smiled at her, and the way his stomach had dropped.

Fred swallowed, looking away.

Angelina's expression hardened. "Right," she muttered again, shaking her head. "That's what I thought."

She turned abruptly, walking off without another word.

Fred's eyes darkened. "Oh, come on, Angelina."

She turned on her heel, facing him, but Fred pushed himself off the wall and followed. "Are you actually serious right now?"

Angelina whirled back around. "Yes, Fred, I'm serious!" Her voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp, cutting through the empty corridor. "You've been acting weird since we got back to school, and don't even try to deny it."

Fred exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair. "You're being ridiculous."

"Am I?" she shot back. "Because from where I'm standing, there's one thing that's changed, and it sure as hell isn't me."

Fred let out a frustrated laugh. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Angelina! Lyra and I hate each other!" His voice was edged with disbelief, as if the entire concept was absurd.

"Hate, as in 'mutual loathing,' hate, as in 'I'd rather eat shit than voluntarily spend time with her.'"

Angelina's arms crossed over her chest. "Right. And yet, you two spend a lot of time together, don't you?"

"Because we keep getting stuck together!" Fred shot back. "I didn't ask to be her partner in Potions. I didn't ask for her to keep showing up everywhere. And I definitely didn't ask for George to find the whole thing bloody hilarious and-"

Angelina's eyes flashed, and she smiled like a mad woman. "Oh, George! Glad you mentioned him," she said, stepping closer.

"George, who spends half of breakfast making comments about you and Lyra sitting together? George, who constantly teases you about her and, for some reason, you never seem to correct him?"

Fred's jaw clenched. "That's because George is an idiot."

"And what about last year?" Angelina demanded, voice quieter now, more dangerous. "What about when Lyra beat the hell out of me, and you just stood there?"

Fred's entire body went rigid. Lyra, still hidden behind the pillar, inhaled sharply. "Oh, shit."

Angelina took another step forward, forcing Fred to meet her eyes. "You didn't step in. You didn't try to stop her. You didn't even look mad. And you definitely didn't look like someone who hated her."

Fred scoffed. "You're twisting things. That fight had nothing to do with me."

Angelina let out a bitter laugh. "Right. Nothing to do with you." She shook her head, voice laced with disbelief. "Do you even hear yourself right now?"

Fred's hands curled into fists at his sides. "You're reading into things that aren't there, Angelina."

Angelina stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she exhaled.

"You know what, Fred?" she said, her voice surprisingly calm. "If you're gonna keep lying to me, at least have the decency to lie to yourself first."

She hesitated for a moment, before saying "Kiss me."

Fred blinked before he answered. "What?"

Angelina's gaze didn't waver. "Kiss. Me." Her voice was steady, challenging, confident even.

Fred let out a short, humourless laugh. "Angelina."

"If Lyra means nothing to you, if you don't feel anything, then kiss me," she repeated. "Right here. Right now. Simple."

Lyra's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't moved from behind the pillar as she was frozen in place. Her fingers curled into the stone, heart hammering so loudly she swore they might hear it.

Fred stared at Angelina, his jaw tight. It should've been easy, right?

They had kissed before. They had spent half the summer together. This wasn't new, wasn't anything they hadn't done before.

And yet his body wouldn't move.

Angelina tilted her head slightly, like she already knew the answer before he even said it. "Yeah," she muttered. "That's what I thought."

Fred swallowed hard. "Angelina, come on.."

But she was already stepping back. "You don't have to explain anything, Fred. I just wanted to see if you'd actually prove me wrong."

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Fred standing in the dimly lit corridor, breathing a little too heavily.

Lyra who was still hidden, finally exhaled.

What the actual hell.

She had half a mind to slip away unnoticed, pretend she had never been here, pretend she hadn't just witnessed whatever the hell that was.

But then Fred moved. He dragged a hand over his face, let out a slow, frustrated sigh, and then turned on his heel and started walking straight toward her.

Shit.

Lyra barely had a second to react before he rounded the corner, stopping abruptly when he saw her standing there. They instantly locked eyes, though neither of them spoke.

Fred's expression shifted from surprise to something unreadable, his face caught in the flickering torchlight.

Oh.

Oh.

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Neither of them moved. Neither of them looked away.

Fred was still, like he hadn't quite processed that she was there, like his brain was catching up to what his eyes were seeing. Lyra, for her part, could only stare back, her heartbeat pressing against her ribs like it wanted to escape.

Finally, Fred exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair, the frustration still written all over his face.

"How long have you been standing there?" He asked with a low voice, looking down at her with dark eyes.

Lyra tilted her head, feigning thought. "Long enough."

Fred let out a humourless chuckle, shaking his head. "Brilliant."

Fred's jaw clenched, his fingers flexing at his sides. "Long enough," he repeated, voice low. "Of course you have."

Lyra tilted her head slightly, arms still loosely crossed. She should've walked away, should've let this moment die in the dim torchlight.

But she didn't.

Instead, she held his stare, watched the way his expression flickered between frustration and something tense, something raw.

"You didn't kiss her," she suddenly said, her voice serious, but also curious.

Fred exhaled sharply through his nose. "Yeah, thanks for the recap."

Lyra lifted a brow. "Didn't know it needed one."

"So," she said, leaning against the cold stone wall, "why didn't you?"

His jaw tightened. "None of your business, Arakan."

"Fine, not that I am interested anyway."

"Well, you seem awfully interested in it," Fred shot back, his voice tight.

Lyra scoffed. "You're the one storming around, Weasley. I was just walking."

Fred let out a short, humourless laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. "Right. Sure. Just walking. Walking right into other people's business."

Lyra shrugged, unbothered. "Not my fault you were arguing in the middle of the bloody castle."

Lyra didn't know why she kept pushing, why she wasn't just walking away, but something about the way he looked at her like he was unraveling, like the weight of whatever had just happened was pressing down on him made her stay.

Fred shook his head, his frustration palpable. "You always do this."

Lyra got caught of guard for a moment by his comment, before she answered, her voice questioning. "Do what?"

"This," he gestured vaguely with his hands. "Push. You act like you don't care, like nothing touches you, but the second you get a hint of something messy, you push."

Lyra stiffened slightly, but merely rolled her eyes. "That's rich, coming from you."

Fred scoffed. "Oh? And what's that supposed to mean?"

Lyra stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "It means, Weasley, that you have no problem making fun of people, no problem laughing at someone else's mess, but the second it's yours you get all defensive."

Fred stared at her, something flickering in his expression, possibly anger, frustration, something deeper, something he wasn't ready to name.

"You don't know me, Lyra," he muttered, voice lower now, rougher.

Lyra tilted her head. "No?"

"No," he snapped. "You think you do. You think you've got me figured out because we've spent six years arguing back and fourth, and how we have spent a couple of hours brewing a potion together and George won't shut up about us sitting at the same table."

Lyra folded her arms, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "No, maybe I don't know you, but Angelina sure does, and she seems to think I'm the reason you can't even look her in the eye."

Fred let out a sharp breath. "That's not.. That's not what this is about."

"Really?" Lyra challenged, stepping forward, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Because from where I was standing, it definitely looked like it."

Fred scoffed, shaking his head. "Merlin, you're impossible."

"Funny," she said, tilting her head. "You tell me I don't know you, but I've never seen you this defensive before."

"I'm not defensive," he muttered, clenching his jaw.

She let out a mocking laugh. "Sure."

Fred exhaled harshly, his patience wearing thin. "You know what? Believe whatever you want, Lyra. It's what you do best anyway."

Lyra inhaled slowly, measuring her words. "When she asked if it was because of me, you didn't really deny it."

Fred stilled, and his jaw tightened, his shoulders squared, but he still didn't deny it.

Lyra smirked, slow and deliberate. "Interesting."

Fred let out a slow, controlled breath. "Merlin, you're infuriating."

Lyra took another step forward, close enough now to catch the faint scent of something warm comforting, like mint and burnt cinnamon.

"Yeah?" she murmured.

Fred's breath hitched just slightly, but his expression didn't waver. "Yeah."

Another beat of silence.

Then Lyra rolled her eyes and took a step back, her smirk still in place. "Well, as fun as this has been, I've got better things to do than listen to you deflect all night."

Fred exhaled, shaking his head like he was trying to shake her off. "Unbelievable."

Lyra turned, already walking away, but just before she disappeared around the corner, Fred called out.

"Do you actually hate me?"

Lyra stopped, and her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

Fred stood there in the flickering light, jaw tight, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. His gaze was steady and searching.

She opened her mouth. Then closed it.

Did she hate him? She easily threw the word around, and she was convinced she hated him before. It was a strong word. Too strong for what she felt when she looked at him.

Annoyance, sure. Frustration, absolutely. But hate? She wasn't sure what the truth was. Fred's expression flickered, just slightly like he had caught the hesitation before she had.

The question inched her closer towards him, a couple of steps. Far enough to face him fully, but close enough to feel his breath, and hear every little movement his body made

She swallowed, lifting her chin. "Does it matter?"

Fred's lips pressed into a thin line as he shrugged. "Guess not." He muttered lowly.

Something about the way he said it made her stomach twist.

They stared at each other for another long moment, something unspoken humming between them, something she didn't want to name.

Then finally, Fred let out a breath, shaking his head. "Go to bed, Arakan."

She should. She should just leave. This wasn't right at all.

But she hesitated for a second too long before turning her head, Fred's stare still burning against the back of her skull.

A tiny part of her hoped he would go after her, or say something to make her stay. And to her surprise, he actually did.

Lyra had only taken two steps before Fred's voice stopped her again.

"Wait."

She turned, eyebrows raising slightly as if she was annoyed, but that one word set of a relief throughout her body. She wasn't ready to let this go just yet.

"What now, Weasley?"

Fred hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, like he wasn't sure why he'd even called her back. He let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just," He sighed.

"Forget it."

Lyra narrowed her eyes before rolling them, crossing her arms. "No. You clearly wanted to say something. Spit it out."

Fred let out a humourless chuckle, looking at her with something close to exasperation, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he smirked. "You're so bloody irritating, you know that?"

Lyra returned the smirk. "And yet, you're the one stopping me from leaving." She responded as she rested her hand on her hip.

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe I just want to make sure you actually leave instead of lurking around corners, eavesdropping like some creep."

Lyra scoffed, stepping back towards him, standing a meter across from him, her chin lifting to look up at him.

"Oh, please. If you and Angelina didn't want an audience, you shouldn't have chosen a public corridor to have your little lovers' spat."

Fred's jaw clenched. "Nobody runs around the castle at this hour, and it wasn't a lovers' spat." He defended himself, looking down at her with dismay.

"Sure looked like one."

"Yeah?" Fred shot back, stepping closer, eyes flashing. "And you watching. What the hell was that?"

Lyra blinked, surprised at the sudden shift in his voice, in the intensity behind it.

"I wasn't watching," she spat back, a little too defensively.

Fred scoffed and rolled his head, looking up at the roof before his eyes met hers again. "Right."

She glared. "You're the one dragging this out, Weasley. If you want me gone, I'll be gone."

Fred didn't answer right away. The torches on the walls flickered, casting shadows along the stone floor.

He studied her, something sharp and unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Maybe I don't want you to go just yet."

Lyra's stomach did something weird. She ignored it.

Instead, she snorted, tilting her head. "What, you need someone else to fight with now that Angelina's walked off?"

Fred exhaled through his nose. "Seems like you're the one picking fights, Arakan."

"Please. I just call things how I see them."

"Yeah?" Fred's gaze flickered over her face. "And what do you see?"

Lyra blinked.

The question threw her off, because what did she see?

Fred standing too close. His usual easy grin absent. His arms crossed, but not in a casual way, more like he was bracing himself.

He looked awfully tired. The faint light from the torchlight reflecting in his glossy eyes. He was frustrated, but the way he looked down at her, like she was a piece of meat, meant something else.

Something she didn't want to name. So instead of answering, she changed the subject.

"You know, I never got around to asking you," she mused, arms folding across her chest. "Did you mean what you said at the graduation party?"

Fred frowned slightly, caught off guard. "What?"

Lyra hesitated before she continued, a faint smile playing on her lips as she recalled the encounter. "I'll kiss you until you stop talking," she mimicked, voice dripping with amusement. "You said that, remember?"

Something in Fred's expression shifted, and for a second, just a second, he looked like she had properly stunned him.

Which meant he remembered, and he couldn't blame it on the booze.

Then he let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "You really love bringing up old shit, don't you?"

She shrugged. "Just curious if you meant it."

Fred's gaze lingered on her, something almost thoughtful behind it. He looked at her eyes, then at her lips for a split second, before they returned to her eyes again. Slowly, he took a slow step closer.

Lyra stilled.

Fred tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Would it freak you out if I did?"

She didn't flinch. Didn't step back.

Instead, she smirked right back. "Would you though?"

They were standing too close now. Close enough that she could see the way his lips twitched, like he was holding back another grin.

Close enough that she could see the way his fingers twitched at his sides, like he was holding something back. Like he was fighting back not grabbing her face. His voice was lower when he spoke again.

"Maybe."

Lyra arched a brow, pulse steady but a little too aware, she scoffed slightly. "Coward."

Fred laughed under his breath as he stared down at the girl with somewhat admiration, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

She grinned. "What? You get all flustered at the mere idea of kissing me?"

"Hardly."

"Sounds like it."

Fred exhaled, rubbing his hand over his face, like he couldn't believe they were actually having this conversation.

"Go to bed, Arakan," he muttered as he stepped back, his warmth disappearing as fast as it had appeared.

Lyra smirked, satisfied.

"Sweet dreams, Weasley."

Then, finally, she turned and walked away.

And this time, Fred let her go.

☆☆☆