What would happen if there was a slight change in the family tapestry of The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black?
Specifically, four years before the birth of a certain Sirius Orion Black III, a little baby girl was welcomed into the world.
She wa...
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-------------------> FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY FOUR YEARS, the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor ends in a tie with Slytherin making the most goals but Gryffindor catching the snitch.
Lyra raised an eyebrow at the way Patrick Parkinson was blankly staring at the wall, at how Theodore Nott had excused himself to apparently try to drown himself in the showers and at how Dennis Yaxley looked to be on the verge of tears, before she turned to face Narcissa.
"And they say that women are the overly emotional ones," she deadpanned, making her cousin laugh.
She honestly wondered if they acted like this when they had tied a match, what would have been their reactions to loosing one?
She didn't want to know.
When Madame Hooch had announced the tie, Lucius Malfoy had looked at Leonard Rowle -the younger brother of Penelope Rowle and the Slytherin seeker- with such a heated expression, that Lyra was honestly surprised that he didn't spontaneously combust on the spot (although, to his credit, Leonard did look like he wanted to do so, if only to avoid Lucius's glare).
Lucius Malfoy was reacting the worst. He was... sulking.
It was that bad.
And since every male in the Court was unnaturally sad and acting mopey and the girls -especially Cassandra and Narcissa- were trying to lift their spirits up while Bellatrix greatly tried to diminish their efforts, Lyra was left with the difficult task of making Lucius act normally once more.
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"Lucius, your behaviour is completely callow." She said shortly after entering his room and taking a seat on the bed, where he had previously been spread out like a starfish, only sitting on the bed properly once more upon seeing her enter.
Lucius scowled in reply. "I am a Malfoy. I never behave callow."
"Okay. Would you prefer the term childish, then?" Lyra asked rhetorically, "Or perhaps the word, immature, suits you more?"
"I am not immature," Lucius said, glaring.
"No offences, Heir Malfoy, but right now, you are the embodiment of immature." Lyra replied, and upon seeing him open his mouth to comment, she continued to speak, "And don't even bother convincing me I'm wrong about it." She met his eyes. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"No," Lucius scowled. "I'm a Malfoy. We don't talk about 'feelings'." He said the last word like a swear.
"But you are also Lucius," Lyra reminded, "So, what would Lucius do?"
Silence blanketed them.
"What do I do now?" Lucius asked finally, and at her confused look, he elaborated. "The girl I like-"
