FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT ► harry potter ¹

018. Pubs & Complications

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

    THE SUN WAS BEGINNING to sink beneath the Sussex hills by the time Lyra and Tonks had finished their shopping. The dim glow of twilight cast long shadows on the cobblestone streets as they walked side by side, bags of shoes and clothes in tow. The town around them, with its quaint charm, seemed almost frozen in time, like some small pocket of the world where magic and mundanity blurred seamlessly. Lyra had to admit that being here was nice—a distraction from the storm of thoughts that had been plaguing her ever since Christmas night.

But even now, as she tried to enjoy the simple act of shopping with her cousin, the familiar shadows of her past lurked at the back of her mind, waiting to consume her when she let her guard down.

"You alright?" Tonks asked, her bubblegum pink hair swaying as she tilted her head towards Lyra. Her tone was light, but her eyes held a deeper concern. Tonks wasn't the type to hover or prod, but she was perceptive. She had noticed the haunted look in Lyra's eyes ever since she arrived.

"Yeah, just tired, I guess," Lyra lied, forcing a small smile.

Tonks raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it but smart enough not to push. Instead, she grinned and pointed to a small, nondescript pub nestled between two shops. "How about a break? There's this pub I used to go to when I was younger—let's pop in. You'll love it."

Lyra glanced at the pub, its wooden sign swaying slightly in the breeze, the faded letters barely legible in the fading light. It looked like the kind of place where secrets were kept and whispered behind dimly lit corners. Strangely, it felt like a place she could sink into for a while, away from everything else.

"Sure," she shrugged, following Tonks inside.

The pub was dark and warm, the smell of wood smoke and old leather filling the air. The low ceiling made it feel cozy, and the flickering fire in the hearth cast dancing shadows across the room. Lyra could hear the quiet hum of conversation, a few patrons hunched over their drinks, speaking in low tones. A group of older wizards sat near the bar, sharing hearty laughs over mugs of mead, their voices blending into the crackle of the fire.

Tonks led them to a corner table near the fireplace, her eyes scanning the room nostalgically. "This place hasn't changed a bit," she mused as they sat down. "It used to be my escape when I needed to get away from everything. Mum hated it, of course. Thought it was too rough around the edges."

Lyra chuckled softly, but her mind wasn't entirely in the present. The warmth of the pub, the low light, and the murmur of voices all seemed to press in on her, reminding her of things she'd rather forget. She hadn't drank alcohol since Christmas of last year. The memory of that evening—the haze of alcohol, the decisions she regretted, the trauma that followed—was too sharp, too painful.

"You want a drink?" Tonks asked, already getting up to head towards the bar.

Lyra hesitated, her heart giving a familiar, uneasy twist. "No, just water for me," she said quietly. The idea of drinking still made her stomach churn. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to again.

Tonks paused, giving her a long, considering look before nodding and heading off to the bar without another word. Lyra appreciated that Tonks didn't pry. She wasn't in the mood to explain, not that she could even put into words what she felt. The raw ache, the hollow pit inside her that had been there since that night.

While Tonks ordered, Lyra glanced around the pub, her eyes lingering on the dimly lit corners where shadows seemed to gather like old ghosts. There was something comforting about this place—maybe it was the anonymity of it, the way everyone kept to themselves, or the way the world seemed to stop for a moment within its walls.