CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
LYRA BLACK WAS GOING INSANE. Not crazy—no, she was well past crazy at this point. Insanity seemed the only reasonable diagnosis for the amount of attention she was receiving as the Yule Ball approached.
Every hallway she walked through felt like a battlefield, except instead of hexes, she was dodging roses, love letters, and—on one mortifying occasion—a charmed cake that erupted into song upon being presented to her. That particular suitor, a nervous Hufflepuff, had nearly dropped the cake when the charmed figures of her own name danced on top of the frosting.
Lyra had barely managed to smile and accept it before slipping away as fast as possible.
Then, there was the boy from Ravenclaw who had literally gone down on one knee, holding up a promise ring and declaring his undying love for her. She had stood frozen in sheer horror as the corridor went silent. Even Draco had been too stunned to sneer at the spectacle.
Three Gryffindors had each handed her roses—three! And a girl from Hufflepuff had shyly handed her a folded parchment before scurrying off, her face burning. Lyra had hesitated before opening it, only to find a heartfelt poem describing her "storm-gray eyes" and "untamed spirit."
It was flattering. Really, it was. But Merlin's bloody beard, it was all too much.
Now, she found herself walking across the courtyard with Daphne and Blaise, the three of them discussing the madness when another group of Ravenclaw boys passed them, casting eager glances in their direction—particularly at Daphne and Lyra.
Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Salazar, why do they keep looking at us like that?"
Lyra sighed, brushing a strand of black hair from her face. "Daph, they look at anything that has two legs and a heartbeat."
Blaise let out a deep, rich laugh. "You're not wrong about that," he said, his dark eyes flicking toward a group of older girls who were gathered near the fountain. His smirk turned predatory. "I'm trying to get in that as well."
Lyra and Daphne shared a glance before, in perfect unison, they muttered, "Minging."
Blaise only chuckled, clearly unbothered by their judgment.
Just as they reached the stone pathway leading toward the Great Hall, Lyra saw something out of the corner of her eye—a commotion forming near the entrance. Students were gathering, whispering excitedly.
"What now?" she muttered, already feeling her patience running thin.
She didn't have to wait long for an answer.
From the crowd emerged a boy from Gryffindor—she vaguely recognized him as a fifth-year, someone named Owen Foster. But he wasn't alone. No, he had a full entourage behind him.
The Hogwarts Choir.
"Oh, you've got to be joking," Daphne whispered in horror.
A few students gasped as the members of the choir raised their instruments, some of them even holding toads as they prepared for the performance. Owen, standing proudly at the front, grinned widely and took a deep breath.
And then they began to sing.
"Oh, Lyra Black, a beauty so rare, With storm-gray eyes and midnight honey hair. Your grace outshines the moonlit sea, Oh, won't you dance at the ball with me?"
The courtyard erupted in whispers, some students barely holding back laughter while others looked on in awe.
Lyra, on the other hand, felt her actual soul leave her body.
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RomanceFLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT | "Everything's in order in a black hole. Nothing seems as pretty as the past though" ━━he stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even with...
