CHAPTER FIFTTEEN
TO SAY EVERYTHING WAS going smoothly would be a lie, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Hogwarts was in a frenzy, a storm of anxiety that hung over the castle like a thick, unrelenting fog due to OWL's . Students rushed from one end of the school to the other, textbooks clutched to their chests as if they were life preservers.
The week-long break for spring had ended, and now everyone was cramming, trying desperately to make up for lost time. The library had become a battlefield of whispers and parchment, while the common rooms felt more like cages filled with frantic animals. Daphne Greengrass was nursing paper cuts from flipping her textbooks too fast, and Charlotte Roiser had formed a study group, everyone wide-eyed with stress, hunched over tables like some bizarre cult of knowledge.
Lyra Black, however, was feeling the weight in a different way. She felt the heaviness in her limbs, a deep-seated exhaustion that wasn't just physical but reached into the very marrow of her bones. She grabbed the straps of her backpack tighter, making her way through the crowded Slytherin common room, weaving between younger students who shrank away at the sight of her. She had two options regarding her exams: cheat or don't. The decision was easy—cheat. Putting effort into something that wouldn't yield immediate results wasn't her style. Her guardians would have a field day if they ever found out; she'd never hear the end of it when she returned home. Dinner conversations would turn into thinly veiled insults, comparisons to her "rebellious sperm donor," as Lucius Malfoy liked to call him.
Her footsteps echoed through the cold, narrow corridors of the dungeons as she made her way to the North Tower for her Divination exam. She didn't care much for Divination—a "pain in the arse," as she would often mutter. What could staring into a crystal ball possibly teach her about the real world? The thought of it all made her lips curl into a slight, disdainful smirk.
"Lyra!" a voice called out, one that she knew all too well. Theodore Nott. She found him lingering near a statue of some old wizard, looking more defeated than she'd ever seen him. He usually had that mischievous glint in his eyes, a sly smirk permanently tugging at his lips like he was always in on some grand joke. But today, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes were dull.
"What is it?" she asked, her patience already fraying.
He sighed dramatically, as if she'd pulled it out of him. "Blaise said I sneeze like a girl," he muttered, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.
Lyra's lips twitched, suppressing a laugh. "You can't sneeze like a—" As if on cue, he let out a delicate, almost musical sneeze that echoed through the stone halls. "I stand corrected," she remarked, deadpan, unable to hide the amused gleam in her eyes. Another sneeze followed, even more high-pitched and dainty than the last. "Wow, are you sure you're not a girl, Nott?" she teased.
He groaned, his cheeks coloring with humiliation. "You suck," he muttered, trying to sound angry.
"And you blow," she quipped back instantly, watching with satisfaction as his face turned crimson.
"You're truly a nuisance," he grumbled.
She grinned. "I see you've learned a new word today. You deserve a gold star." She glanced at the giant clock in the corridor. "Look, I have an exam—"
"Help me," he interrupted, his voice a mix of desperation and pleading. "Please—I can't deal with Blaise today."
Lyra sighed, rolling her eyes. She was on a tight schedule, but if she helped him, she might have leverage to use against him later. "Fine, I'll help you. But you'll owe me," she said, voice laced with finality.
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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...
