Collision - Fred Weasley

Chapter eleven

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Fred smirked, his usual cockiness, which she rarely encountered, creeping back. "He said you've been spending a lot of time reading up on, certain family histories, especially on the Black's family, and your own."

Lyra just watched him for a moment. So what if she had done all that, Fred has nothing to do with it.

"And why would you care about that?" she replied, her voice more defensive than she intended.

Fred shrugged, still looking ahead, and occasionally down at the girl beside him. "I don't. I just found it interesting." Fred said, sparing her a glance.

What with the way you've been sneaking around lately, skipping meals and study sessions with your little friends.""Nott thinks you're chasing after Black for other reasons, personal reasons."

Lyra's chest tightened, but she forced herself to keep walking as if nothing Fred said bothered her. "Theo has a vivid imagination," she said, her voice crisp. "Sirius Black has nothing to do with me or my family."

Fred finally looked at her, his brows furrowed as if he was trying to figure her out. "Oh, really? Then why are you out, looking for him. Even Snape looked like he knew. Honestly by this point, I wouldn't be surprised if Snape was your uncle or something."

Lyra stopped abruptly, turning to face Fred, who stopped walking, watching her closely. 

"What's your point, Weasley?" she spat. "Why do you care so much? It is getting annoying."

Fred held her gaze for a long moment before his expression shifted, more serious now. "You're right—I don't care," he admitted. "But if you think chasing after Black is going to give you some sort of closure, or answers, you're dead wrong. He's a madman."

"You don't know that." She muttered out.

Lyra clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. His words struck a chord, but she wouldn't admit it, not to him. Not to Fred Weasley. "I don't need your advice, or your pity. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself."

Fred's face darkened, and for once, he wasn't smiling. "This isn't about pity, Arakan. You can pretend all you want, but if you go looking for Sirius Black and find him, you won't just be risking yourself—you'll be risking everyone around you. Think about that."

"You don't get to tell me what to do, Fred."

"No," Fred said, his voice softer now, but still firm. "But if you're smart, you'll listen."He smirked slightly.

The weight of his words hung between them, the tension almost unbearable, it was like a string of energy, hanging between them, waiting to be cut through.

 For the first time in what felt like forever, Lyra didn't have a biting comeback, didn't have the energy to throw another insult his way. She just wanted him gone, forever.

She just stood there, locked in this strange, intense moment with the one person she thought she could never stand. Why did he suddenly seem so interested in her, why couldn't it just be like the old days.

If they were in their third year right now, they would be screaming insults at each other, not standing here in silence like a couple of idiots. If she was in her third year again, she wouldn't be afraid to just walk away right now, without it being awkward.

Fred also stood there, his eyes never leaving hers as he looked down at her. He looked like he was thinking the same thing. He was too close, too close for her liking. His warm breath moved the hair strands at the top of her head. The castle was so dark at night, she could barely make out his features.

But her eyes had adjusted to the dark, so had his. 

His eyes drifted down to her lips for a curious split-second, before they returned back to her eyes. His expression was stoic, he wasn't smiling, he wasn't making cocky comments towards her.

He was silent. 

'Fuck..' She heard him groan in a whisper, ever so slightly to himself, before running a hand through his ochre hair.

Finally, she broke eye contact, her shoulders stiff as she turned away from him. She couldn't bare looking at him anymore, or even talking to him.

 "Go back to your common room, Weasley," she muttered, her voice low and cold. 

Fred lingered for a second longer before sighing and taking a step back. "Just don't do something you'll regret, Lyra," he said quietly, and with that, he turned and walked back down the corridor, leaving her standing alone in the dim light.

Lyra watched him go, her mind swirling with confusion and frustration. She hated him—she'd always hated him. But something about that last look, the way he said her name, felt different.

 She shook her head, pushing those thoughts aside.

But as she continued walking through the castle towards the common room, alone again, she couldn't shake the lingering feeling of his words, echoing in her mind.

But then, it suddenly hit her, a difference in his choice of words. And a very big one, that is.

He had called her Lyra.

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