CHAPTER SIX

love me and i might just choose you

ORIGINAL UNIVERSE, LYRA'S POV

1993

third year, pt. three

-VII-

FATHER NEEDS TO TAKE A CHILL PILL

Lyra,

What in Merlin's name were you thinking, not informing me immediately after you were hurt? I cannot express the rage I felt upon hearing of your injury from some third party rather than my own daughter! This is unacceptable, Lyra. You are my only child, and it is my duty to ensure your safety. If you were a boy, I am sure such an incident would have never occurred. You must use your brains, Lyra, you are the heir to the House of Malfoy. Such reckless behavior will not be tolerated.

As for that blithering oaf Hagrid and the dangerous creature that attacked you, I am absolutely livid. A creature like that has no place near you, or any student for that matter. Rest assured, I am taking this directly to the Minister. That beast will be put down, and the giant will be held accountable for his actions. I will not have my daughter's life put at risk by the incompetence of Hogwarts staff.

This will not stand, Lyra. I expect you to keep me informed of any further incidents. Do not disappoint me again. I will see to it that justice is done.

Your Father,
Lucius Malfoy

-VIII-

A GRYFFINDOR AND A SLYTHERIN, A POTTER AND A MALFOY

The castle was silent as midnight approached, with only the occasional flicker of torchlight casting shadows along the corridors. Lyra Malfoy slipped through the darkened halls, her footsteps barely making a sound on the cold stone floors. Her hand throbbed painfully, the bandages not quite enough to dull the ache from her injury.

She had tried to tell her father that it wasn't Hagrid or Buckbeak's fault, but Lucius had refused to listen. His anger was unyielding, and his determination to punish those he deemed responsible left her feeling helpless and upset.

She didn't want to be alone, but she needed to escape—to find a place where she could think, away from her father's overbearing anger and the pitying looks of her classmates.

The Astronomy Tower, she decided. It was the one place where she could find solace, where she could be surrounded by the vastness of the night sky, as if it could somehow lessen the weight on her heart.

As she pushed open the door to the tower, she was met with a cool breeze that ruffled her hair and sent a chill down her spine. She stepped out onto the platform, breathing in the crisp air, and leaned against the stone railing. The stars were brilliant tonight, scattered like diamonds across a velvety black sky. They twinkled above her, distant and unattainable, much like the peace she longed for.

She didn't hear the soft footsteps behind her until a voice broke through her thoughts.

"Malfoy?"

She spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. Standing there, barely visible in the dim light, was Harry Potter. His face was pale, his eyes shadowed with something that looked like a mixture of anger and sadness.

"Potter?" she whispered, surprised to see him there. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, his tone sharper than usual. "Shouldn't you be resting in the infirmary?"

Lyra flinched at his words, the accusation in his voice stinging more than she expected. "I couldn't sleep," she murmured, turning her gaze back to the sky.

Harry approached the railing but kept his distance. For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them almost palpable.

"It's all your fault, you know," Harry suddenly said, his voice tight with emotion. "Because of you, Buckbeak is going to be killed."

Lyra's breath caught in her throat. She had been expecting this, but hearing it from Harry, with all the weight of his accusation, was almost unbearable. She turned to face him, her eyes wide with hurt. "It's not my fault," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I never wanted this to happen. I've tried everything I could to stop it, but no one will listen to me."

Harry's expression was a mixture of anger and confusion. "Then why didn't you do more? Why didn't you—" He cut himself off, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to find the right words.

"I told my father it wasn't Hagrid's fault, or Buckbeak's," Lyra continued, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. "I begged him to reconsider, but he's so angry, so determined to make someone pay for what happened to me. I have written to him multiple times, trying to explain, but..." She trailed off, the frustration evident in her tone. "It didn't make any difference."

Harry stared at her, his anger slowly dissipating as he saw the sincerity in her eyes. He hadn't considered that Lyra might be as trapped by her circumstances as he was. The thought made him feel a little guilty for lashing out at her.

"It's just..." Harry began, his voice softer now. "Buckbeak didn't do anything wrong. He was just defending himself, and now he's going to die because of it."

Lyra's heart twisted at his words. She had always been taught to see magical creatures as tools or obstacles, never as beings with their own rights. But seeing the anguish in Potter's eyes made her realize how much Buckbeak meant to him—and how unfair it was that the creature was being punished for something that wasn't its fault.

"I know," she whispered. "I don't want him to die either."

They stood there, the silence between them no longer heavy with tension, but with shared grief. Lyra wondered if she would ever be able to escape from the mistakes her father made.

"Does your arm hurt?" Potter asked after a long pause, his voice gentle now.

Lyra glanced down at her bandaged hand, the pain a dull throb beneath the layers of cloth. "A bit," she admitted. "But it's not just the pain. It's everything else... my father won't listen to me. My mother hides things from me. I just– I don't know."

Potter nodded. "Why did you come up here?" he asked, his tone curious rather than accusatory.

Lyra sighed, her breath misting in the cool night air. "I just... I needed to get away. To think. My family's been so... intense. And everyone else either pities me or avoids me or they are scared of me. I just needed some space."

"I get that," The boy said quietly. "Sometimes I come up here too, when things get too much."

Lyra looked at him, surprised by his admission. She had always seen Potter as someone who was strong, who could handle anything that was thrown at him, as annoying as it was. But now she realized that he was just as vulnerable as she was, just as human.

"Have you ever felt like you're trapped?" she asked suddenly, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "Like no matter what you do, you can't change anything?"

Harry's eyes darkened. "Yeah," he said softly. "All the time."

They stood there in silence, as the night seemed to stretch on, the stars above them twinkling in the vastness of the sky.

"Potter," Lyra said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper, "How much do you know about Sirius Black?"

Harry stiffened at the mention of the man, his mind racing back to what he had learned just a few hours earlier. "What about him?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Lyra hesitated, unsure if she should say anything. But something in the boy's eyes told her that he needed to hear this. "He's my mother's cousin," she said softly. "I've heard stories about him from my family. They say he was different from the rest of the Blacks, that he didn't agree with their beliefs. My mother said he was always kind to her when they were younger, even though he hated the rest of the family."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Sirius was supposed to be family—both to him and to Lyra. It was a strange connection to the girl he once considered evil incarnate, one he hadn't expected. "I just found out he's my godfather," he admitted, his voice shaking slightly. "I didn't know until tonight."

Lyra's eyes widened in surprise. "Your godfather? That means... that means– Oh my God, I can't believe he would do that to your family, to your parents. They must have loved him so much to have made him Godfather. My father always said Sirius was a traitor, that he betrayed your parents, but... knowing he was your Godfather–"

The boy nodded.

"My mother didn't think he would do that to your father, even though she never outright said it," Lyra admitted, "Though she said very little about it, she told me how much Sirius loved your father. Are you sure he did it?"

Harry looked at her, surprised. "You don't think he did it?"

"I did not say that," Lyra shook her head. "Look, I don't know, Harry. But from what I've heard... it doesn't sound like the Sirius Black my mother knew. Maybe there's more to the story than we've been told."

"Do you think he might be... good?" Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lyra looked at him, her eyes softening. "I think... I think he's someone who made his own choices, who didn't let his family dictate who he should be. Maybe that makes him good. Or at least, better than the rest of them. But I think, he still made bad choices in the end, because he was the one in Azkaban, was he not?"

For a long time, they stood in silence, watching the stars above them. The anger and fear that had brought them to the tower seemed to fade, replaced by a quiet understanding.

"You know, you just called me Harry right now," The boy smiled. He had dimpled, Lyra noticed.

The girl laughed, "Don't get cocky, it is your name, is it not?"

"It is," Harry didn't look at her as he responded, "I just liked you saying it."

"You know," Lyra said after a while, "it's strange, isn't it? That we ended up here, talking like this. I never thought we'd have anything in common."

Harry smiled faintly, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Yeah, it is. But... I'm glad we did."

Lyra returned his smile, feeling a warmth spread through her that she hadn't felt in days. "Me too."

"We could be friends, you know," Harry smiled at her, "In secret, of course."

"Obviously," Lyra nodded, "I can't let people know I am friends with a Gryffindor now, can I?"

Harry laughed.

"I'd like to be your friend," Lyra said softly as she turned to leave. "Thanks for talking, Harry."

"Thank you too, Lyra," Harry replied to the empty air.

-IX-

END OF THIRD YEAR, BYE PROFESSOR LUPIN

The end of Lyra Malfoy's third year at Hogwarts had been a whirlwind of confusion and emotions. As she packed her trunk, preparing to leave the castle that had been both a sanctuary and a source of turmoil, her thoughts swirled with everything that had happened.

There was a sense of unresolved tension hanging in the air, as if the school itself was holding its breath. Everyone had been buzzing about Sirius Black's escape and the sudden disappearance of Buckbeak, but the details were scarce, and Lyra felt like she was piecing together a puzzle without all the pieces.

She had heard rumors in the common room and whispers in the corridors—wild stories about how Sirius Black had been captured, only to vanish into thin air before he could be handed over to the Dementors. Some said he had a powerful ally, others that he was a master of dark magic. But Lyra had her own suspicions, born from the conversation she'd had with Harry Potter on the Astronomy Tower.

Somehow, Harry had been involved in all of this. Lyra was certain of it. She didn't know how, but she felt it deep in her bones. He had a way of being at the center of things, of attracting trouble, and she couldn't help but worry about him, a thought so strange to her. Worrying about Harry, if the other Slytherins were trained legilimens, they would consider her mad. But Harry was a magnet for danger, and he was her friend now. There was yet something more—something that told her this wasn't the end of the story.

As she and Blaise Zabini made their way down to the platform to board the Hogwarts Express, Lyra tried to focus on the more mundane matters at hand. Blaise was in the middle of telling her about his plans for the summer, his usual air of cool detachment firmly in place, though Lyra could tell he was excited about whatever he had planned.

"I've got this new broomstick," Blaise was saying, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm, "the fastest model on the market. We should take it for a spin, see how it handles. Maybe even head down to the coast—my mum's got a place there. It'll be quiet, far from everything."

Lyra smiled, appreciating Blaise's effort to cheer her up. "That sounds perfect," she replied, though her mind was still partially on the events of the past few weeks. "A bit of peace and quiet is exactly what I need."

Blaise gave her a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable. "You've been awfully quiet these past few days, Lyra. Something bothering you?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "Just thinking about... everything, I suppose. It's been a strange year."

"Strange is one way to put it," Blaise agreed, his voice light. "But that's Hogwarts for you—never a dull moment. Anyway, whatever it is, you'll have the whole summer to sort it out."

They reached the train, and as they boarded, Lyra felt a pang of nostalgia. Despite everything, she would miss Hogwarts—the castle, the grounds, the sense of magic that infused every stone and corner. But she was also looking forward to the break, to the chance to escape from her father's watchful eyes and the pressures of her family name.

As they found a compartment and settled in, Lyra rummaged through her bag, making sure she had everything she needed for the journey. Her hand brushed against something unfamiliar—a piece of parchment that hadn't been there before.

Curious, she pulled it out, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the familiar, messy handwriting on the envelope.

"What's that?" Blaise asked, glancing at the letter.

Lyra didn't answer immediately. She carefully opened the envelope, unfolding the letter inside. As she began to read, her eyes widened, and a rush of emotions flooded through her.

Dear Lyra,

I wanted to write to you before we all head home for the summer. I know you've probably heard a lot of things about what happened, and I wanted to set the record straight.

Sirius is safe. So is Buckbeak. I can't explain everything right now—too many eyes and ears—but I promise you, Sirius is innocent. He didn't betray my parents. He's been trying to get out of Azkaban for years, trying to catch the actual traitor and clear his name, and now he finally has a chance.

I know this year has been hard for you, with everything that happened with your father and everything. But I want you to know that I understand. You didn't want this, and you tried to stop it. That means a lot to me.

I'm looking forward to hearing from you over the holidays. It feels strange to say that, but I'm glad we became friends, even with everything that's happened.

Take care of yourself, Lyra. We'll figure all of this out together.

Your new secret friend,

Harry

Lyra's hands trembled slightly as she finished reading. The letter was so much more than she had expected—so much more than she had hoped for. Relief, gratitude, and a strange warmth filled her chest. Harry was okay. Sirius was okay. And most astonishingly, Harry somehow still considered her a friend.

She read the letter again, savoring every word. For the first time in what felt like ages, a genuine smile spread across her face.

"Good news?" Blaise asked, his tone more curious than before.

Lyra nodded, folding the letter carefully and slipping it back into the envelope. "Yeah," she said softly, meeting Blaise's gaze. "Very good news."

Blaise raised an eyebrow but didn't press her for details. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, stretching out his legs. "So, about that broomstick—are you up for a race?"

Lyra laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. "You're on," she replied, the weight of the past few days lifting from her shoulders. She had something to look forward to now—something beyond the summer.

As the Hogwarts Express began to pull out of the station, Lyra looked out the window, her heart soaring with a new sense of hope. And as the train carried her away from Hogwarts, Lyra clutched Harry's letter close, knowing that this summer, she wouldn't be alone.