FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT ► harry potter ¹

009. Anger

CHAPTER NINE

      IN THE DIMLY LIT SLYTHERIN common room, Lyra and her friends were engaged in a game of Gobstones. The fire crackled in the hearth, its flickering light casting shadows on the stone walls, creating an eerie ambiance that only seemed to heighten the stakes of their game. The air was thick with the tang of the putrid liquid that occasionally splattered from the game, mixing with the scent of old books and damp stone. The room was sparsely populated, the festive season having driven most students to the warmth of their families or the allure of Hogsmeade. The few remaining were gathered in the corner, huddled close together, each one as eager to escape the monotony of their daily routine as they were to win at Gobstones.

Goyle rolled his stone with a grunt, his attempt to knock out a marble from the circle resulting in a splatter of foul-smelling liquid that left a streak of greenish-brown across the floor. The game continued in its usual fashion, marred by the occasional outburst and laughter that echoed through the room. Lyra's eyes followed Draco as he took his turn, his gaze sharp and calculating. He was poised, a slight smirk on his lips as he prepared to roll his stone, a flicker of confidence in his otherwise inscrutable expression.

"Your turn, Draco," Lyra said, her voice low but edged with anticipation. She licked her lips, a habit she'd picked up when she was nervous or excited. The stone tumbled across the floor, colliding with the marbles with a satisfying clink, sending one of Goyle pieces flying out of the circle.

"Drakie!" Pansy screeched, her voice like nails on a chalkboard, causing the other students to wince. She grabbed Draco's arm with a determined look, dragging him out of the common room with an urgency that was almost comical. The door swung shut behind them, leaving a whisper of conversation and speculation in their wake.

"How much you wanna bet that they're making out right now?" Theodore voice cut through the murmurs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Nah," Daphne and Charlotte said in unison, shaking their heads. The girls exchanged glances, each one reflecting a shared understanding of Draco's peculiar tastes. Lyra knew better than to take Theodore comment at face value. She had seen Draco's rather unflattering interests first-hand; his private room during the summer had been a repository of Witch Weekly top models, a sight she had not only accidentally stumbled upon but had been unable to erase from her memory. The horror of that moment had left her stomach churning, a nauseating blend of embarrassment and revulsion that had driven her straight to the bathroom to vomit.

"Did Draco tell you?" Crabbe's voice cut into her thoughts, his head tilting to one side, a look of innocent curiosity on his face.

"Tell me what?" Lyra's fingers tapped rhythmically on her cheek, a sign of her growing agitation. The habit was a nervous tick, one that she had tried to suppress but found impossible to ignore when she was irritated.

"Nothing," Crabbe stuttered, his face flushing crimson. He had learned the hard way never to hide anything from Lyra, a lesson painfully taught when she had twisted his ear for concealing Draco's derogatory comments about Hermione Granger. The memory of his pained yelps had been enough to ensure that he would never make the same mistake again.

"If you're going to sit there like an idiot, you might as well spill whatever secret you're holding," Lyra hissed, her voice low and menacing.

"Buckbeak has a hearing from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous—" Crabbe began, but Lyra had heard enough. In a swift, practiced motion, she reached out, curling two of her fingers around Crabbe's nose and squeezing it tightly. His nose turned a disturbing shade of purplish-blue, and he let out a strangled yelp, his eyes wide with a mixture of pain and fear.