* 𝖆𝖒𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ,

𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂         𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙻𝙳,         𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝙶𝙸𝚁𝙻;         𝚃𝙴𝙻𝙻 𝙼𝙴         𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃         𝙸𝚃𝚂         𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴         𝚃𝙾         𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙽.              ind.   &   priv.   blog   for     LYRA   MALFOY,     an   original   character   based   on   the     harry   potter   universe.     ANTI   JKR.     —      𝚊𝚜   𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍   𝚋𝚢   𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚒,   𝟸𝟸,   𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 / 𝚜𝚑𝚎   𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜.

she rushes towards him with a speed that might have been worry - tinted,   had they been anyone else…     but harry had gryffindor golden boy written all over him,   a tangle of house points at his fingertips and a legacy written over his name   [   and lyra was a malfoy in name and status,   the unpruned rose decorated with all her thorns:     he runs his fingers across the stem and pulls away,   noticing that his blood seemed frozen from the mere metaphor   ].      when she rushes towards him,   he grows tense beneath her prying hands   –   not because he’s worried that she’ll hurt him,    but because he doesn’t know how to react to this sort of odd gentleness from her.

which is why he’s almost thankful when her hand twists his ear…    it makes him feel a little more normal.     he grabs his wrist as she drags it away from him,    a glare fitting itself over his features   [   the truth is that harry had never learned how to wear anger well   –   there is so much boyish charm clinging to him that he doesn’t seem able to do anything but smirk   ].    he drops her hand with an annoyed sigh,    hand lifting to rub at the back of his ear.    the red mark burns against his skin,     the scourgify spell clearing up the damage with a nimble flick of her wrist.

‘      i like to think i’m more brave than i’m stupid,   actually.      ’      it’s with half a huff that he raises a hand to rub imaginary dirt from his cheek,   staring down into the exploded cauldron.    perfect.     he’d have to scrub the bottom of it out before he started another potion,   which would take at least an hour.      ‘       it’s a learning curve.      ’

❝   does   your   learning   curve   happen   to   be   a   horizontal   line?   ❞        she   asks,   voice   dripping   with   exaggerated   curiosity   like   butter   wouldn’t   melt   in   her   mouth   as   frustration   slowly   begins   to   set   in.   she   turns   back   to   the   pot   with   a   steely   look,   noticing   how   the   bottom   was   blackened   with   soot      &      suddenly   the   lack   of   sleep   these   past   couple   of   days   catches   up   to   her;   a   sense   of   tiredness   setting   in   her   bones,   her   shoulders   dropping      &      a   sigh   escaping   her   lips.

she   brings   a   hand   up   to   rub   away   the   building   migraine   at   her   temple      &      thinks.   thankfully   they’d   only   just   started   so   they   still   had   an   hour      &      twenty   minutes   left;   the   problem   is   it   would   take   far   too   long   to   clean   the   pot      &      finish   the   potion   in   time   for   them   to   be   graded   properly      &      if   the   heiress   gets   an   dreadful   because   of   potter,   she   doesn’t   care   if   she’ll   get   booted   off   to   azkaban,   she’s   going   to   ring   his   neck   with   her   bare   hands.

harry admires the easy confidence that becomes her as she eyes him up,    treating him more like he was last week’s dessert than as the mythical harry potter…     he couldn’t decide if he hated her for it or if he was strangely thankful   [   to become a hero,   you must first unlearn what it meant to be a person:     shrug off the uneasy normalcy that fits every other person and try on an ego,    try on a new personality,   try on godhood   –   there was nothing human that could survive constant veneration   ].      NOTHING BUT HARRY,   IT SEEMED.     he likes to think it’s because he hasn’t really ever adjusted to the legacy of a hero.    there had been no happily ever afters,   no unearned victories.    he was more fighter than hero.     which meant that he’d never be able to inject ease into his body.      ‘      i’ve been counting every second we’ve been apart,   sure.    most pleasant moments of my life.      ’

dashing?    blimey,   he never thought lyra would compliment him without gagging afterwards.    she had barely talked to him during hogwarts,   apart from the few times they were forced together   [   better hands than theirs had closed around their shoulders,   deciding that school rivalries were nothing but little flies ready to be squashed:     she had been pretty,   though   ].    if there had ever been the smallest fragment of a crush,   it seemed to rush upon him   –   palm lifts to rub at cheeks,   a small laugh brimming free from him against his will.      ‘      you can thank hermione for this one.    but i can dress myself just fine,   thank you.    i even know how to put my own shoes on.      ’

his eyebrows shoot up into her hairline as he looks at the badge,   taking it gently in his hand.    their hands press together,   his thumb against the curve of her palm,    the heat of her hand blurring into the fresh morning air.    merlin,   she could be her own conductor of energy,   her own beautiful heater.    he drops his thumb and digs out his own badge,   showing it off to her.    it was like comparing old wounds.      ‘      now that’s a surprise.    because i’m supposed to be meeting mine.      ’

the   press   of   his   hand   against   hers   makes   her   jump,       an   immediate   tenseness   in   her   shoulders   followed   quickly   by   a   shudder   running   through   her   body   that   she   tries   to   play   off   at   the   sharp   contrast   of   temperature   because   of   how   freezing   cold   his   hand   was   but   she   can’t   help   but   lose   herself   in   the   sight   of   his   thumb   against   her   palm.   she   can’t   remember   the   last   time   someone   touched   her   so   casually   outside   of   her   mother      &      brother.   to   make   matters   worse,   she   couldn’t   help   but   notice   that   his   hands   were   bigger   than   hers,   something   she   had   no   business   focusing   on   but   can’t   seem   to   shake   the   thought   out   of   her   head.   it   makes   her   head   buzz      &      she   thinks   if   she’s   not   careful   she   could   get   addicted   to   this.

the   former   slytherin   tries   opens   her   mouth   to   say   something,   anything,   to   distract   from   the   feeling   of   his   rough   palm   against   hers   but   her   tongue   is   stuck   to   the   roof   of   her   mouth   as   she   stares       —       she’s   saved,   however,   when   harry   moves   the   conversation   along   easily,   dropping   his   thumb      &      pulling   out      &      identical   badge   of   his   own      —       she   wishes   she   could   be   surprised   that   this   but   harry   “   savior   of   the   wizarding   world”   potter   becoming   an   auror   seemed   to   be   the   natural   course   of   things      —       but   what   was,   in   fact,   surprising   just   as   potter   said   was   that   was   the   fact   he   was   here   to   meet   his   auror   partner   too.   

even   with   growing   up   in   the   wizarding   world   surrounded   by   magic      &      the   impossible,   lyra   never   once   believed   in   coincidences.   she   stares   at   the   badge   in   potter’s   hand   with   a   twitch   of   a   brow      &      eyes   wide   like   she’s   worried   it’s   going   to   jump   out   and   bite   her   fingers   off.        ❝   you’re   kidding.   ❞       she   deadpans.   when   her   hand   is   left   hanging   in   the   air   she   promptly   stuffs   her   badge   back   into   her   pocket,   fidgeting   with   it   where   potter   couldn’t   see.   feeling   a   familiar   venom   in   her   tone   as   the   anxiety   slowly   becomes   a   heavy,   suffocating   weight   on   her   chest   once   more.        ❝    and   what   about   weasley?   i   assumed   the   two   of   you   were   attached   to   the   hip,   were   you   not   able   to   flash   one   of   your   pretty   little   smiles   to   convince   shacklebolt   to   let   your   sidekick   follow   you   around?   ❞

the   regret   hits   like   a   troll   club   to   the   head   as   soon   as   the   words   finish   leaving   her   mouth      &      she   immediately   snaps   her   mouth   shut;   face   sliding   into   a   familiar,   expressionless   mask.   it’s   not   the   worse   thing   she’s   ever   said   to   him   but   she   hates   how   quick   she   was   to   lash   out   in   her   panic   especially   at   potter   when   he      had   been   nothing   but   friendly   to   her.   talking   to   him   was   a   mistake      &      if   there’s   even   chance   he’s   the   partner   she’s   going   to   be   meeting   today      —        &      working   with   for   the   foreseeable   future       —        the   thought   chokes   her.   it’s   not   a   bad   thing,   if   she   was   partnered   with   him,   but   . . .   

the night follows harry wherever he goes…     the curse of darkness,   a blackened world haunting his body,    father’s blessings rewrote by a stronger narrative   [   they called him a child of hermes,   but that was only true as a technicality   –   it had not been his father who had taken him under his wing,   who had granted him powers beyond his wildest dreams…    and taken them away just as easily   ].     HARRY WAS NOT WELL - LIKED AMONG THE GODS.     if you were taking lyra’s word for it,   you might believe that harry wasn’t well - liked among demigods,   either.     he was starting to think she might be right.

‘      i might have an idea…      ’      he shouts the words over his shoulder,    swerving at the last moment to avoid running into a tree.     the world was closing in around them:     he could feel life sapped from him whenever the dark monsters grew too close.   a little too on the nose for nyx.    which meant that it was far more likely zeus had sent them,   disguised beneath nyx’s mark to make sure no one figured it out   [   and people thought harry was an idiot!   ].      he glances over his shoulder again to see them,    a thousand eyes shaded in darkness,    open maws revealing too many teeth.     THERE’LL BE EATEN ALIVE IF THEY DON’T GET OUT OF HERE SOON.       ‘       i think i could maybe teleport us out of here.     but it requires a lot of effort,   we’d need to   –    we’d need to pause for a moment.     DO YOU THINK YOU COULD HOLD THEM OFF FOR ME?      ‘

she   can   feel   the   muscles   in   her   body   ache,          nights   without   sleep   starting   to   catch   up   to   her   in   each   shaky   breath   she   took.   lyra   forced   her   legs   to   keep   moving   even   through   the   pain   because   stopping   now   would   mean   her   death   and   she   doubts   potter   would   survive   much   longer   without   her   around   so   that   would   be   just   another   mistake   on   her   consciousness   when   she   wakes   in   elysium.   she   can   feel   the   muscles   in   her   arms   begin   to   tremble   from   exhaustion   as   she   pulls   the   string   of   her   bow   back,   another   arrow   of   light   forming   in   its   path   but   lyra   doesn’t   bother   focusing   on   a   target      —      instead   she   simply   lets   the   arrow   fly,   the   light   deterring   the   beasts   for   just   a   moment   to   allow   lyra   to   think   beyond   the   hazy   fog   of   adrenaline   and   fear.

❝   i   ...   might   have   something,   ❞       she   nocks   another   arrow   and   fires;   satisfied   with   the   shriek   and   hiss   of   one   of   the   beasts   as   it   melts   and   disperses   from   her   light.       ❝   it’s   risky   with   how   tired   i   am.   i’d   need   to   rest   for   awhile   before   we   can   move   again.   ❞       and   she   bother   doesn’t   waiting   for   anything   else   to   be   said,   she   couldn’t,   if   they   were   going   to   make   it   out   alive   she   needed   to   be   quick.   

she   flicks   her   bow   and   it   snaps   back   into   a   golden   bracelet   on   her   wrist   as   she   grabs   the   back   of   potter’s   shirt   and   presses   her   back   to   his,       ❝   just   keep   your   eyes   closed   and   focus   on   getting   us   out   of   here.   ❞        which   is   all   the   warning   the   child   of   hermes   gets   before   lyra   lifts   her   hands   in   the   air   and   begins   to   burn   bright,   light   forming   from   her   palms;   starting   at   her   fingers   tips   before   enveloping   her   elbows   as   she   concentrated   all   her   power   into   them   with   eyes   shut   tight.   

         𝖙𝖔   𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊   𝖎𝖓