Collision - Fred Weasley

Chapter thirteen

☆☆☆

As Lyra made her way out of the Great Hall, the hum of chatter and clinking cutlery faded behind her. She didn't care that she was alone, anything was better than the oppressive weight of Fred Weasley's attention, and now Theodore's too. 

She could still feel the tension that had passed between them. The look Fred had given her, the stare Theodore had thrown back at him. Of course she had noticed their little exchange, why else would she leave so suddenly.

But she wasn't about to get drawn into their nonsense. Quidditch was all that mattered now. Slytherin had to win, and she was going to make sure they did.

She pushed open the heavy doors of the library, the familiar scent of parchment and old books calming her nerves instantly. Shelves towered above her, casting long shadows over the rows of tables. 

She found her usual spot in the corner. She dropped her bag onto the wooden surface, took a deep breath and tried to refocus her mind on the match strategy she'd been working on.

Two days. That's all that matters. Fred can pull whatever stunts he wants, but he's not winning on that pitch.

She had a hard time concentrating. The way Fred had stared at her, so frustratingly smug, and then the way Theodore had reacted.

She shook her head, frustrated with herself for letting them get to her.

Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps approached, breaking the silence of the library. Lyra tensed, hoping it wasn't who she thought it was. She wasn't in the mood for anyone.

"Lyra," a familiar voice called softly from behind her.

She closed her eyes briefly, willing herself to stay calm, before turning to see Theodore standing by the edge of her table. He looked at her with that same concerned expression he'd had at lunch, his brow furrowed.

"You're hiding out here again," he said, his voice low.

"I'm not hiding," she replied, trying to sound dull.  "Just studying, trying to prepare for the match."

"right," Theodore replied, clearly not buying her excuse. He sat down opposite her without asking. "And what's got you so rattled, hmm? It can't just be the match."

Lyra shot him a sharp look. Theodore always had a way of cutting through her defenses without pushing too hard. He was patient, something that both comforted and annoyed her.

"nothing is rattling me," she insisted, but her tone lacked conviction. She could feel his gaze lingering on her, silently waiting for her to tell what was really on her mind.

"Theodore, please," she said finally, her voice low. "I don't need this right now."

He sighed. "Fine. But you know you can't let him get under your skin like that. You're better than that, Lyra."

She frowned, looking down at the notes she'd made. "Who said this was about him?"

"I've known you long enough to know," Theodore replied, leaning back in his chair. "Fred Weasley bothers you more than you care to admit, it's affecting you. Just say the word, and I'll beat him up."

Her jaw tightened, but she smiled softly. Theodore was right, Fred does affect her. He had always been irritating, always quick with a taunt or a jibe. They had always been rivals, ever since their first year, and that hadn't changed.

But something felt different now.

And she hated that she didn't know why.

☆

Meanwhile, back in the Great Hall, Fred Weasley was having a hard time keeping his usual cheery demeanor. He was sitting with Angelina, George, and the others, but his mind was elsewhere.

He couldn't stop thinking about the way Lyra had completely ignored him all day. She hadn't thrown a single insult, hadn't even shot him a glare. She was usually so sharp, always ready with a retort, but today... nothing.

It was unnerving.

"You alright, Fred?" Angelina asked, fluttering her eyes up at him, her hand brushing against his arm again. "You've been weirdly quiet today."

Fred blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He forced a smile and shrugged. "Just thinking about the match."

Angelina grinned. "Well, don't worry too much. We'll wipe the floor clear of Slytherins." She winked.

George snickered beside him. "Yeah, mate, don't worry. You can save all that worry for Slytherin and Arakan next week. I'm sure she'll have some delightful insults ready by then."

Angelina raised an eyebrow by George's mention of Lyra's name, but didn't comment on it.

Hopefully George was right, He hated that she wasn't engaging with him, that she wasn't biting back like she usually did.

He needed the rivalry. He craved her insults.

"Yeah," Fred muttered, his voice a little distracted. "I'll be ready."

☆

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Lyra, her mind stuck between Quidditch and that lingering frustration with Fred. She tried to avoid the Gryffindors as much as possible, but she could feel Fred's presence everywhere she went, whether it was in the corridor, in the classroom, or even during practice. 

He wasn't taunting her outright, but it was like he was waiting for her to acknowledge him.

And that was exactly why she wouldn't.

When evening rolled around, food served, Lyra took her seat at the Slytherin table as usual. Astoria was chatting about something, and Theodore was beside her, but Lyra barely listened.

She was staring straight ahead, absentmindedly poking at her food when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement at the Gryffindor table.

Fred was sitting there with George, Angelina, and the rest of their crew. But his eyes were on her. Again.

He leaned over, whispering something to George, who let out a bark of laughter. Fred grinned, glancing over at Lyra, clearly waiting for her to look at him.

But she didn't.

She refused.

Her gaze stayed on her plate, even though she could feel his eyes on her, could feel that tension building again. She heard Angelina say something to Fred, laughing softly, but it barely registered.

She wasn't going to play his game. Not this time.

But as she sat there, ignoring him, a thought crept into her mind which she hated but couldn't shake.

Why did it matter so much.

☆☆☆