𝖝𝖎𝖛. 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫.

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𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖗

𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖗

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"You're joking."

"I'm not."

"Sirius we can't just lock Remus in your room and tie him up to a chair!"

Sirius rolled his eyes at Lyra, watching her widened eyes narrow into a scowl. "Don't you roll your eyes at me!" She swatted his arm, Sirius' leather jacket protecting him from getting hurt.

"Well, you've been turning down all my ideas to get Remus to fess up!" Sirius yelled annoyed. "I specifically told you-"

"We will only give him the potions on my terms" Lyra mocked in a deep voice. "I know what you said. I just don't get why you're so keen on locking him up!"

Sirius glared at the girl. "Okay, first of all: I do not sound like that. My voice is much more mellow. Second of all: I can't. It's simple as that. You trust me, don't you?" He lifted his eyebrows, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Lyra stared at him for a few seconds before sighing and nodding her head. "Yeah..."

"Well, then we'll go with my plan." He smiled triumphantly, patting her shoulder lightly. He then checked his wrist, as if to check the time, though it was watchless. "Hey, aren't you supposed to meet James in The-"

Lyra let out a gasp, eyes going wide as plates and hand flying up to her mouth. "Crap!"

Lyra had never run so fast in her life. She zipped past a crowd of students, accidentally knocking into one of them and spilling a bunch of candy out her their hands. "Sorry!" She yelled even though it was bearly audible to the person because she was already out of sight.

She was glad that Honeydukes wasn't too far away from The Three Broomsticks, but that did not take away the fact that she was fifteen minutes late.

She burst through the door, catching the attention of a few people who quickly resumed their chatting and drinking. She looked around the place frantically before she saw James sitting right at the back by himself, as he gazed out the window.

She admired the boy as she made her way to him, her breath still uneven from the running. His hair was messy as always, and his glasses rested on the bridge of his perfect nose. He wore a dark blue sweater instead of their usual black robes. Its sleeves had been pulled down all the way, covering his hands, fingers peaking out as they wrapped around a pint of butterbeer.

𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐄 // james potterWhere stories live. Discover now