Lexi Layyer my only weakness*hp fanfic*

The love square

My name is Flora Layyer. I’m 42 years old and have two children, Alex and Lexi. I have a story to tell but I don’t know how to tell anyone.

I’ve been pretending the whole thing’s not real for almost seventeen years now, and intended to do so for the rest of my life – but then things took a turn for the worst a year or so ago.

It began with Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, tutting sadly as we cleared up the bar together. “…Such sad news,” he sighed. “Such a shame.”

I looked up from the table I’d been cleaning from the other end of the bar. “What is?”

“This,” he murmured, and threw his newspaper onto the counter, gesturing for me to read it.

I dropped my cloth where it was and wiped my hands down on my apron as I approached. “Tragic death ofHogwarts student in final task of Triwizard Tournament,” I murmured, reading the headline aloud. “…Oh my God!”

I knew it’s terrible, but in my head all I could think was thank god that wasn’t Alex.  Alex had applied for the Tournament – of course…

“And then there’s some more stuff in there, too,” nodded Tom gravely.

I’d been living in the oldest hotel room up in the attic of The Leaky Cauldron for about fifteen years, and it’s safe to say the two of us have grown very fond of each other over that space of time. He’s become brotherly in his approach to me; and is the only father figure my kids have ever really known.

“…there’s something about that Harry Potter as well…” he murmured, cocking his head to re-read it. “I still remember when he first entered this pub aged eleven – he was just a boy then! Do you?”

“Of course,” I murmured, smiling a little. I’d been helping out at the bar that day, too, waittressing and things, as normal, in attempt to scavenge together some form of money – Alex and Lexi had been sitting behind the bar snacking on crisps and quizzing the nearby customers on the most impressive spell they could do.

But then the little dark-haired boy with the glasses and the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead had entered, the bar had gone quiet and Alex had leant over to his little sister and whispered into her ear.

“That’s Harry Potter, Lexi,” Alex had told her as he nudged her in the ribs, “…he’s the Boy Who Lived. See his scar?”

“Don’t, it’s rude to stare, don’t you think he gets this all the time? How would you like it if people stared at you all day?” Lexi told him firmly.

Alex hesitated, watching the boy as Tom stepped forward and introduced himself to him with a firm shake of the hand, before turning Harry’s attentions to the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Quirrell.

“Hey, Lexi, I bet he’s going to be in your year at school,” Callum exclaimed suddenly, “- do you fancy him? Maybe I can introduce you now.”

“No, don’t,” she exclaimed urgently, pulling at his sleeves, “if you do, Al, the minute I get to Hogwarts I’ll learn loads of really horrible spells and use them on you…”

Watching this conversation had made me feel distinctly ill, so I went back to serving some of the other customers before they noticed. But for the rest of the day, the same sick thought had plagued my mind – wouldn’t it be ironic, I’d thought, if Harry Potter and Lexi started dating… wouldn’t it be ironic…

But I’d pushed that thought out of my head in horror – I was so scared, so ashamed, by the idea that I’d made myself forget it completely. I made myself forget about the boy, too, but now here he was again, four years later, and in the newspapers, no less.