Collision - Fred Weasley

Chapter seven

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Lyra walked through the castle the next morning. Classes passed in a blur, her focus wavering as thoughts of the Quidditch match consumed her. 

As the days wore on and the match loomed closer, the atmosphere in Slytherin became charged with excitement and anticipation. The team gathered for an intense practice session the evening before the match, each player fully aware of what was at stake. 

Flint had raised the stakes, insisting that losing to Gryffindor wasn't just an embarrassment; it was a matter of pride for Slytherin.

Lyra finished her classes, rushing to the changing room where she could change into Quidditch gear. 

Unfortunately, she had to change in a cramped old broom closet, since she was the only girl on the team. There was barely enough room for her in there, but she managed to change into gear.

The pitch was alive with the sound of broomsticks slicing through the air. Lyra was in her element, her focus narrowing as she darted around the field, practicing her shots and avoiding practice Bludgers sent by Draco and Theo. 

As the practice came to a close, Flint called the team in for a huddle. "Listen up, everyone. The match is next week, we need to be relentless. No mercy. They think they can walk all over us because of their ridiculous reputation. We'll show them!"

The team cheered, the adrenaline coursing through them, but Lyra felt a knot tightening in her stomach.

"Lyra," Flint called as the team began to disperse, "great job today" He said, an unfamiliar expression lingering on his face, "Just remember—keep your eye on the Quaffle, and don't let anyone distract you."

"Thanks, Flint," she simply replied, giving him a small smile before exiting the field.

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Later that evening, after a quick dinner with her friends, Lyra found herself wandering the halls alongside side her friend Theodore. 

She strolled through the darkened corridors with the brunette by her side, the faint light of torches flickering against the stone walls. 

They had agreed to study together, since they are in the same potion class. But Theodore had forgot his book, so he had to head back to the dorms. 

"I'll be right back, alright? Wait for me," He said before he hurried off. She gave him a nod, and suddenly she was all alone in the cold corridor.

All of a sudden, she heard raised voices coming from a nearby classroom. Curious, she crept closer, pressing her ear against the door. The voices were unmistakable—Fred and George Weasley.

"How can she be so infuriating, " Fred sounded frustrated.

"Can't you just ignore her?" George replied incredulously. "You've been obsessed with her for weeks. Maybe you should just—"

"Shut up, George!" Fred snapped. "You don't get it. She's all anyone talks about, how she's so good that she made the Slytherin team, even though they originally only accept boys,"

"And I can't let her think she's better than me."

Lyra's lips twitched upwards, she loves hearing about how good she is.

"Maybe you're just worried you're not good enough," George teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood. 

"She's a bloody good player, Fred. You need to get it through your thick skull that this isn't just about you." 

"Yeah, well, I don't want to lose to a Slytherin. Especially not her," Fred muttered, frustration lacing his words.

So that's it. She now knew that it was all about winning for him, not about the 'heart', or whatever he said that day. 

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Lyra barely had time to react. She stepped back, trying to blend into the shadows as Fred's head popped out of the doorframe.

He paused for a moment, as if sensing someone was nearby, but then shrugged it off and closed the door again. Lyra breathed out in relief.

Just as she turned to head back down the corridor, a loud crash echoed from the classroom.

She whipped around, rushing to the door. She flung it open, her heart pounding as she stepped inside.

She found Fred and George sprawled on the floor, a pile of textbooks and Quidditch equipment scattered around them. As well as a book named 'Quidditch Champions, and their Secrets.'

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

Fred groaned, rolling onto his back, not really registering who was talking to him. "We were just—practicing."

"Practicing, my arse," George chuckled, shaking his head. "More like Fred was too busy thinking about you to keep his eyes on the—"

"Shut it, George," Fred spat back, scrambling to his feet and brushing himself off. "What are you doing here, Arakan?"

Lyra crossed her arms. "I could ask you the same thing, Weasley. Practicing for next weeks match, in the middle of the night, in a classroom?"

"No, actually practicing for tomorrows match, against Hufflepuff." Fred replied, his demeanor shifting slightly as he met her gaze. 

"Is that so," Lyra answered as she picked up the Quidditch book, beginning to read out loudly.

"The key to mastering the broomstick is to keep your hands steady, your right hand should be approximately five centimeters across from your left, and your back should be-" 

"Honestly, what it is. Are you two reading how to sit correctly on a broomstick?" She sneered, before tossing the book to one of the boys.

The two of them looked at each other in shame, "Well there has to be some kind of strategy." George muttered.

"What are you doing up so late anyway?" Fred spat out, but was caught off-guard as brunette boy appeared behind the girl.

"What the fuck?" Theodore exclaimed in a hushed tone as he looked at the twins, and down at the books and broomsticks, laying scattered across the classroom floor.

"Tell me about it." She replied.

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