lyra | harry potter

thirteen | basketcase

SUMMER DRAGGED BY PITIFULLY BORING, for the most part, although Lyra was grateful not to be spending it at her parents'. Well... she supposed she couldn't really claim to have parents anymore, really; not since they'd disowned her, anyway. Grimmauld Place was quiet and lonely, save for the meetings the Order held there and the countless times Molly or Lupin stopped by to check on her. The Weasley matriarch had coaxed Lyra into going to the Burrow for dinner quite a few times, but on the occasions Lyra declined her offers, Molly would bring her food anyway.

Most of the time, Lyra just wanted to be by herself. The truth was that she was still trying to adjust to  this new twist on her life; a girl that had gone from having no one but a boy that died, had suddenly went to a girl that had multiple friends. And it was nice, knowing that she wasn't as alone as she sometimes felt— but, well, Lyra still wasn't used to being in the company of so many people. Having dinner at the Burrow was overwhelming from time to time, even though she did enjoy it.

Harry and Hermione had wrote to her all summer, constantly checking in on her. She didn't write with Ginny or any of the Weasleys, because she visited them often. But to Lyra's surprise, she'd even gotten a few letters from Neville and Luna here and there. It seemed that Hermione had been right: they did consider her a friend now.

"I shouldn't be here," Lyra mumbled, fiddling with the straw from the tea Harry had gotten her. He'd talked her into meeting him at a small bakery, saying that he was going stir crazy with the Dursleys and needed something to do. Ron wasn't able to meet with him because Molly didn't like the distance, and Hermione wasn't able to meet with him because her muggle parents obviously didn't have their homes connected to a Floo Network. Lyra had agreed, simply because it would give her something to do, as well; but now that she was there, she kept having second thoughts. "And—and neither should you, Harry."

The boy in question sighed, sitting down the copy of the Daily Prophet she had brought for him to see."Nothing's going to happen here, Lyra," he told her quietly. "This is a muggle town— I doubt anyone would come looking for us here, of all places."

That did nothing to snuff out her worries. "Harry, you and I both are literally walking around with targets on our backs," Lyra pointed out, her voice low as well. "I—I could be killed on the spot, and there's no telling what they'd do with you—"

"Hey." He cut her off firmly and looked her in the eye. "We'll be fine. Don't worry. Okay?"

Lyra wanted to disagree again, but there was a confidence in Harry's voice that made her nod reluctantly. "Okay."

Harry offered her a small smile as he went back to reading the newspaper. "Good. Now drink your tea and relax."

Lyra rolled her eyes, but sat in silence and allowed him to read the newspaper. She understood that while he spent the summer with the Dursleys, that meant that he was basically cut off from the magical world and thus didn't get copies of the Daily Prophet. It was part of the reason she figured he'd asked her to meet him, because she could get her hands on a copy easier than he could.

"Harry Potter," the bakery worker read off the newspaper as she'd just finished wiping down the table near them. "Who's Harry Potter?"

Harry looked up at her and tilted the newspaper down so she couldn't see the title page anymore. "Oh,uh... no one," he answered. "Bit of a tosser, really." Lyra snorted in amusement, and he smirked at her, kicking her lightly under the table.

The girl was young, around their age, with flawless mocha-colored skin and tight curls of dark brown hair. She smiled, revealing pearly white teeth in the process. "Funny, that paper of yours. Couple of minutes ago, I could have swore I saw a picture move."