CHAPTER TWO

find me where no-one else is

1992

second year, pt. one

ORIGINAL UNIVERSE, LYRA'S POV

-I-

THE END OF FIRST YEAR

Lyra Malfoy was a huge bookworm. She'd plowed through almost every single book in the Malfoy library—repeatedly, until she knew them inside out. The place was her personal haven, and she'd spent countless hours immersed in stories and information. She knew what love was, poets described it as fleeting, the romantics as everlasting, and the overly cautious as a chemical reaction.

OOut of all those views, Lyra was pretty convinced that the last one was the most accurate. The other two just seemed way too fanciful for her taste. Her first year at Hogwarts had been a bit of a rollercoaster—some days dragged on forever while others sped by in a flash. It had been eventful, for sure.

There had been a troll in the castle once! Ah, what a mighty night that has been. Lyra had considered grabbing Blaise and finding the big old monster themselves.

But that wasn't the only drama. Lyra had gotten into trouble too—what a disaster! And of course, it was all thanks to her new rival, Harry Potter. The so-called "boy who lived" and Hogwarts' new golden boy. If only You-Know-Who had considered dropping him off a window instead of blasting the killing curse.

Ironically though, there was moment during her detention, when she walked the forbidden forest with Potter next to her when Lyra's heart had sped up a little bit. For a moment, he hadn't seemed so bad.

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Hagrid- THAT GIANT OAF! How dare he? Lyra's father was definitely going to hear about this. She will go and find the minister himself if she has to! How dare he—

"Stop your whining, Malfoy," Potter grumbled from her side.

"I don't know if your ears are as incompetent as your eyes but I haven't said a thing, Potter," she retorts back.

Potter rolls his eyes, "You didn't have to say anything, I can practically hear your thoughts with how badly you are seething."

"Ah, so you're a mind reader, aren't ya, Potter?" She put her hands on her hips, "Can you see all the ways i'm thinking of to murder you?"

Potter laughed then— a genuinely laugh that almost terrified Lyra. He has a nice laugh, she thought to herself.

"I assure you, I wouldn't get caught," Lyra continued, "I have read enough books to know how to hide a body, especially one of a small boy."

"And what are you going to tell Hagrid when we get back? That a troll got me?" Potter was hysterical, and a small part of Lyra was so proud for making him laugh like that. A year ago she would have been so happy— she just made Harry Potter laugh!

"I'll tell them that the unicorns took you." She crossed her arms. The forest was chilly, the night cascading over the tall trees.

"Are you cold?" Potter asked.

"No, I think I am very hot," She bit back before realising what she said, "temperature-aly."

Just then Potter did something that really shocked the girl. He took off his jackets— a deep red shade with golden hues, and handed it to her. Under the jacket he was still wearing a sweater.

"I— you don't have to pretend to be nice." Lyra said, because obviously this was a joke.

"I am not pretending," Potter admitted, "Besides, I am still wearing two more layers without the jacket. Just take it before I change my mind, Malfoy."

Lyra took the jacket, a little grateful and put it on. It smelled of fresh grass and broomsticks. A hint of spearmint. It was just a little big on the girl but she was finally warm.

They walked past a few trees in silence before Lyra asked, "Why— why did you refuse to be my friend? At the beginning of the year?"

Potter turned to look at her in a way that said 'I can't believe you just asked me that.'

Lyra shook her head and continued, "I am aware I wasn't the most welcoming when we first met but I really did want us to be friends."

"Because I am the 'boy who lived.'" Potter looked at her, his green eyes still bright in the darkness, "I don't want friends like that Malfoy. And I definitely don't want friends who look down on others."

"I do not look down—"

"Ron. Ron Weasley. You made fun of him." Potter bitterly spat.

Lyra looked at him with wide eyes, "And what of when he laughed at my name! He had it coming, I will not allow anyone to insult me."

"I want to be friends with good people," Potter spoke. "People who don't belittle others."

Fury surged through Lyra as tears were threatening to split. She had enjoyed a little moment, but a little moment was just so. She stepped away from him.

 "And I want to get out of this bloody forest," she snapped. "We're lost, and it's freezing. Let's just go."

She stormed off, her steps quick and angry, the forest's chill biting at her as she pushed through the underbrush. They had absolutely no indication of where Hagrid and Longbottom were. Potter hurried after her, his voice calling out.

"Hey, wait up! I didn't mean to—"

"Just leave me alone, Potter!" Lyra shouted, her voice echoing through the trees.

Potter caught up with her, grabbing her shoulder gently. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to upset you. Can we just try to work this out when we're not freezing to death?"

Lyra whirled around, her face flushed with anger and frustration. "Fine, but I'm not in the mood for your pity right now."

Potter sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm not trying to pity you. I'm trying to be honest. I'm just as lost in this forest as you are, and we both need to get out."

Lyra's anger softened just a little. "Alright, but only if you promise not to get us further lost."

"Deal," Potter said, holding out his hand. "Let's just stick together, okay?"

Reluctantly, Lyra took his hand, and they started walking side by side again. The forest seemed less intimidating with their shared effort.

As they walked, there was a brief, awkward silence before Lyra broke it again. "You know, your jacket isn't half bad."

Potter grinned. "Glad you think so. Just don't go thinking I'm soft because I'm nice."

Lyra smirked. "Don't worry, I'll try not to."

Harry Potter might be her rival, but he wasn't half bad.

-II-

NEW BEGINNINGS, SEEKING HAPPINESS

Flourish and Blotts was abuzz with excitement as the crowd gathered to see Gilderoy Lockhart's book signing. Lyra Malfoy had been trying her best to stay out of the spotlight, blending into the crowd as she picked up her books. Gilderoy seemed like a no-gooder to her and frankly, she could stay far away from them. She had just managed to escape the throngs of autograph-seekers when she noticed Harry Potter struggling under the weight of an armful of Lockhart's books.

"Need any help?" Lyra asked, approaching him with genuine concern. Her tone was softer than usual, her annoyance momentarily forgotten.

Harry looked up, his face a mix of relief and surprise. "Uh, thanks, Malfoy. That would be great."

Without another word, Lyra helped him transfer the stack of books into Ginny Weasley's cauldron. Harry looked a little more relaxed as he managed to escape the crowd's attention, joining Ginny at the edge of the shop. Lyra followed him, hoping to finally find her father amidst the crowd.

"You can get your own books, Harry," Ginny said. "I'll take these."

."Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Lyra smirked, her voice cut through the air as she joked.

Harry winced and turned to face her, his expression amused. "Malfoy."

For a second, it was as if they were old friends, as if they had known each other their entire life. Well, that was until the red-head girl interrupted. Ginny's eyes had flashed with irritation as she said "Leave him alone. He didn't want all that!"

"Really?" Lyra said, a bit of the old edge returning to her voice. Lyra waited for a second- just a second, hoping Harry would defend her. She was met with disappointment. "It's not like Potter doesn't enjoy the attention."

Ginny's cheeks flushed red with anger. "He's just trying to help!"

Ron Weasley, who had been pushing his way through the crowd with Hermione, joined in. "Oh, it's you, Malfoy. Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

Lyra's patience was wearing thin. "Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop. I suppose your family will go hungry for a month to pay for all that."

Ron's face turned crimson, and he dropped his books into Ginny's cauldron with a clatter. He started towards Lyra, but Hermione and Harry quickly intervened, holding him back.

"Ron!" Mr. Weasley's voice cut through the tension. "What are you doing? It's mad in here. Let's go outside."

Before the situation could escalate further, Mr. Malfoy's voice rang out with his characteristic disdain. "Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley."

Lyra turned to see her father, Lucius Malfoy, standing with his hand on her shoulder, his face a mask of cold superiority. Mr. Weasley's face flushed with anger. 

"Lucius," Mr. Weasley greeted with a curt nod.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr. Malfoy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "All those raids ... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron, pulling out a very old, battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. "Obviously not," he said with a smirk. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Lyra winced. Sure, she was a rude person at times, but her father always crossed the line. Sometimes, she really wished to hate him. Mr. Weasley's face turned a deep shade of red. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard," he said, his voice tight with anger.

Lyra's eyes darted between Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley, her anger and frustration bubbling up. What was worse, was the fact that though she was silently on Mr. Weasley's side in the argument, Ginny took a scathing step towards her.

"Just leave us alone, Malfoy!" Ginny snapped, her voice full of frustration. "Can't you see you're causing trouble?"

"Ginny, don't," Harry said, finally speaking up. "It's not worth it."

Lyra felt a pang of disappointment and a growing sense of betrayal. She had tried to help Harry, and now she felt like an outsider in her own moment of generosity. The Weasleys' hostility and Harry's lack of defense against her made her feel isolated and angry.

There was a loud crash as Ginny's cauldron toppled over, and Mr. Weasley threw himself at Mr. Malfoy. The ensuing chaos was a cacophony of yelling and clattering books. Lyra watched in stunned silence as Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley grappled among the fallen tomes.

Hagrid arrived, pulling Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart with surprising ease. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip, and Mr. Malfoy had been hit by a book, his expression one of bitter satisfaction. He threw Ginny's old Transfiguration book at her with a sneer. "Here, girl – take your book – it's the best your father can give you."

Lyra felt a sharp pang of anger and humiliation. She had tried to be civil, but now her good intentions felt like a distant memory. As her father ushered her away, Lyra cast a final, resentful glance at Harry and the Weasleys. The brief moment of camaraderie she had hoped for seemed to have vanished completely, replaced by a rekindled rivalry and a deep sense of betrayal.

Honestly, she could never really tell if Harry loathed her or not.

-III-

THE WORDS WE CAN TAKE BACK

The Quidditch pitch was abuzz with early morning energy as the Gryffindor team arrived. Lyra Malfoy, with her usual poise, watched the scene unfold from a distance, a smirk playing on her lips. The pitch was crowded with Slytherin players, and Lyra knew precisely how this would play out. It was the kind of spectacle that would rile up Gryffindor's captain, Oliver Wood.

"Oh, look at that," she murmured to Flint and the rest of the Slytherin team, her voice laced with feigned innocence. "It seems like the Gryffindors are having some trouble."

Flint's grin matched hers as he replied, "Perfect. Let's see how they handle this."

Wood's face turned a deep shade of red as he spotted them. His anger was palpable as he dismounted his broom with a thud and stormed over, his team following closely behind.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed, his voice echoing across the pitch. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint, with his usual troll-like grin, stepped forward. "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, the only girls on the Gryffindor team, joined the fray. They looked as annoyed as Wood, their glares directed straight at Flint. The man was brave, surely, for he met their gazes with an icy stare, indifferent to their discomfort.

"But I booked the pitch!" Wood insisted, his frustration mounting. "I booked it!"

"Ah," Flint said, pulling out a parchment with a flourish. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their new Seeker."

Wood's anger faltered for a moment. "You've got a new Seeker?"

From behind the hulking Slytherins emerged a smaller figure, smirking with an air of superiority that was almost tangible. Lyra, in her new Slytherin Quidditch robes, stepped forward with an air of confidence.

"Are you Lucius Malfoy's daughter?" Fred Weasley asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Funny you should mention Lyra's father," Flint said smoothly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

With a synchronized move, all seven Slytherins held out their broomsticks. They were polished to perfection, the gold lettering on each one gleaming in the morning sun.

"Very latest model," Flint said casually, flicking a speck of dust off his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps," he added with a sneer, looking at Fred and George, "sweeps the board with them."

The Gryffindor team stared, momentarily stunned into silence. Lyra savored the sight of their faces falling, her smirk widening with satisfaction.

"Oh look," Flint said, pointing as Ron and Hermione approached. "A pitch invasion."

"What's happening?" Ron asked, his voice filled with confusion. "Why aren't you playing? And what's she doing here?"

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," Lyra said, her smirk never fading. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought for our team."

Ron's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the broomsticks. "Good, aren't they?" Lyra continued smoothly. "Your team has the kind of broomsticks that one can see in the Museums."

The Slytherin team erupted into laughter. Fred and George's faces were twisted with anger and Granger's face flushed with rage, and Lyra could see that her temper was about to snap. 

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

Without thinking, Lyra's irritation boiled over. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblo-," she spat out till she stopped herself, but the damage was already done.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. The pitch fell into stunned silence. The Gryffindor team looked shocked, and even some of the Slytherins seemed taken aback by the harshness of Lyra's words. Fred and George were restrained by Flint and the others, but the tension was thick in the air.

As the chaos unfolded, Lyra felt a deep pang of regret. The word had slipped out in a moment of fury, and she knew she had crossed a line. The animosity she felt towards Potter and his friends had overwhelmed her, and now she was facing the fallout.

After the commotion had died down, Lyra found herself wandering back to the pitch, her heart heavy with the weight of her actions. Hermione was sitting alone on a bench, her face still marked by anger and hurt. Lyra approached hesitantly, her steps slow and uncertain.

"Granger," Lyra began, her voice trembling slightly. "I—I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. I was completely out of line, and I regret it."

"What?" Hermione looked up, her eyes wary but curious. "Why are you apologizing, Malfoy?"

"I just—," Lyra faltered, trying to find the right words. "I let my temper get the better of me. I know that what I said was wrong, and I'm truly sorry."

Hermione's expression softened slightly. "I appreciate that. Honestly, when we first met, I wanted to be friends with you. I thought we could get along, but things escalated so quickly."

Lyra was taken aback. "Really? I didn't know that."

"Yes," Hermione said with a small, sad smile. "But you were so caught up in the rivalry, and the blood purity and I didn't know how to approach you."

"I do not want to be like my family," Lyra confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "They've always been about superiority and rivalry. I didn't want to follow that path, but sometimes I get caught up in it anyway. I want to be better than that."

"I don't think I want to be friends with you right now," Hermione regarded her thoughtfully. "But maybe we can start over? I'd like that."

"I'd like that too," Lyra admitted, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. "I think I'd really like that, Granger."