𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐥𝐞 | h. granger

xliv | tis the damn season

CHAPTER FOURTY-FOUR
tis the damn season

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𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒, but after Harry had blown up at her in Hogsmeade, she wanted to get as far away from him as possible, which unfortunately meant getting on the train to platform nine and three-quarters with Draco.

She and him hadn't spoken at all since that day, either. They were both actively avoiding each other. They sat in separate compartments on the train and stayed as far away from each other as possible when they met Narcissa on the platform.

"Are you two seriously still fighting about Dobby?" Narcissa asked, frowning.

"Something else," Lyra mumbled.

"Tell your sister to keep her hands to herself," Draco grumbled.

"Tell your son to stop being a twat to my friends."

"Lyra Marceline, language," Narcissa warned. The teenager rolled her eyes.

When they arrived at Malfoy Manor, Lyra went into her room and shut her door, being extra careful not to slam it so she wouldn't get shouted at by Bellatrix or Lucius. She flopped down face-first onto her bed, wishing she could sink into her mattress and suffocate so she wouldn't have to live like this anymore.

Why did her parents have to have a fourth child? She was meant to be Andromeda's replacement after she tarnished the family name, a lot of pressure for someone who was doing everything she could to try and make her eldest sister proud of her.

But she was nothing more than a disgrace. She was in Hufflepuff, she was friends with Muggle-borns and blood traitors, and she was an anxious wreck that wanted out. She wanted freedom. She didn't want to be chained down by being a Black anymore.

"You're an ungrateful brat, you know that, right?"

"Get out of my room!" Lyra grabbed her pillow and threw it at Bellatrix, who caught it and threw it back to her. "And stop reading my mind!"

"If you hate it here so much, why don't you go live with your little Mudblood friend?" Bellatrix asked, raising a brow. "I'm sure you'd be so much happier there."

"And let you follow me so that you can kill her and her family just because she's a Muggle-born?" Lyra scoffed, crossing her arms. "Not a chance. I'd rather kill myself than allow you to find out where she lives."

Bellatrix frowned deeply, her brows creasing together. For a brief moment, she looked almost concerned. "Lyra, roll up your sleeves," she demanded.

"What? No."

"Lyra Black, roll up your fucking sleeves."

"No! Don't touch me!" Lyra shoved Bellatrix away when she tried to forcibly roll up the sleeve of her sweater. She ducked around her when she tried to grab at her again and hurried downstairs. She accidentally bumped into Lucius, who glared down at her. "S-Sorry."

"Sorry, what?" Lucius narrowed his eyes at her.

"Sorry, sir," Lyra corrected herself before continuing down the corridor to the back door. She walked out to the snow-covered gardens, muttering a spell to make a glowing blue fire to keep her warm, which she put into a lantern to carry with her.

She sat down on the cold stone ledge of the fountain. One of the peacocks – her favourite one with purple tail feathers that she had named Mystic – approached her. Lyra managed a small smile and gently stroked the bird.

"Must be nice to be a peacock, Myst," she whispered, leaning her forehead against the peacock when she lowered her head to her. Mystic pecked at her ear affectionately, making Lyra chuckle softly.

That night when Lyra was sound asleep, Bellatrix slowly pushed open the door to her baby sister's room, muttering Lumos to light up her wand tip. She crept to the side of her bed and pulled up the baggy sleeve of the oversized hoodie Lyra always slept in during the winter months. She waved her wand light across her arm, lightly brushing her fingers across the healing marks on her arm.

"Oh, little one. . ." she whispered, sighing softly. She quickly and quietly rummaged through her belongings until she found what Lyra had been using. She left her room, pausing at the threshold with a hand on the doorframe as she turned around to face the sleeping blonde. "I'm confiscating this for your own good, you beastly child." She tucked the pair of scissors into the folds of her dress before continuing down the corridor to her nephew's room. A sliver of light peaked out under the closed door. Without knocking, she pushed it open.

Draco was sitting on his bed playing with the ever-bashing boomerang he had bought at Zonko's Joke Shop. He looked up when his door opened, frowning when he saw his aunt. "What do you want?"

"Watch your tone, Draco." Bellatrix pointed her wand threateningly at the boy, who shrank back, mumbling a quiet sorry. "I don't care what's going on with you and Lyra, but you are to make things right with her."

"You think she's upset because of me?" Draco scoffed. "Stupid Pottah's the one you need to be threatening. He shouted at her and hurt her feelings. Came back crying from Hogsmeade. Longbottom's older sister was telling that Mudblood she always hangs out with that she was refusing to get out of bed, not even for classes."

"I don't care what that foul Potter boy did, I'm talking about you. Adjust your attitude and be there for her."

"What do you care? You can't stand her."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Because whether I like it or not, that little shit is still my family, and I don't want her killing herself because the only other kid her age in this family is giving her the cold shoulder! You're apologizing tomorrow, Draco, and that is final!" She turned on her heel and slammed his door, jumping when she saw Narcissa standing with her back against the wall opposite Draco's room. Bellatrix pointed a finger at her. "Never speak of this."

"You can deny it as much as you want, Bellatrix, but I know you care about her," Narcissa said as she followed her down the hall.

"Never speak of it!"