lyra | harry potter

twenty-three | dark times

ONCE SUMMER CREPT UPON THEM, THE TEENAGERS LEFT HOGWARTS for what they felt would most likely be the last time. It was a bittersweet feeling for Lyra, as they castle had become a safe haven to her over the years since she was able to escape her mother and uncle while she was there. However, she supposed she had found a new safe haven: her friends.

Molly Weasley had spent the first few weeks after the school year was out nagging at Lyra about staying at the Burrow with them instead of at Grimmauld Place by herself. The Weasleys had all grown rather fond of the Slytherin and as a mother who'd taken the girl under her wing, Molly didn't like for her to be alone. It wasn't until Lyra's seventeenth birthday, July 1st, did the nagging finally end.

The Weasley parents had thrown a party for her. It was a small one, nothing special about it, really. Only the Weasleys were in attendance, and Molly had made a pineapple upside-down cake because she knew it was Lyra's favorite, and the twins gave her a bunch of prank products they ended up using on Ron, and then the rest of the night was basically spent with Molly scolding her sons like usual. 

Lyra sat in the living room with an amused smile on her face as she listened to the bickering, but when Arthur suddenly took a seat on the couch beside her she turned to him. "I know it wasn't much," he told the young girl, "but at least we had cake, right?"

"Are you kidding me?" Lyra asked incredulously. "Mr. Weasley, today was great." He merely looked at her, his eyebrows rose, not quite sure if he believed her. She smiled again, but this time it was more bittersweet, perhaps even a bit melancholy. "I don't think you realize this is the first birthday party I've ever had. Maybe it isn't much in the eyes of most, but for me... For me, I really loved it."

Arthur pitied this young girl next to him, who had only just turned seventeen but seemed to carry the weight of a lifetime of burdens on her shoulders. All of his children had had to grow up too fast because of the war that had became absolute since the battle at the Department of Mysteries; but Harry and Lyra both had it worse and he felt sorry for them. They had never even truly gotten the chance to be kids. It wasn't fair. 

"Well," he said finally. He was careful to keep his tone light for he knew Lyra didn't want anyone to feel sorry for her. She hated how open Molly was about her sympathy because it made her feel weak. "I'm honored to have been part of it, then."

Lyra laughed slightly, her expression softening, and for a moment she felt like a little kid again. The little girl who used to ask her uncle and mother questions with such hope in her eyes before it had finally washed away with every time they abused her physically or verbally. The little girl who had once foolishly believed that her family could learn to love her. "I... I want you to know how much I really appreciate all you and Mrs. Weasley have done for me," she told Mr. Weasley genuinely. "You've taken me in and— and showed me what having a good family is like... You've been more of a mother and father to me than my real ones have. I'm so thankful for that."

Arthur smiled, touched at the girl's genuine words. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a half-hug as they watched Molly scold Fred for turning Ron's hair purple. The troublesome boy only laughed at his mother, which prompted her to hit him upside the back of the head. "You're family to us now, you know?" Arthur told Lyra as they chuckled at Molly and Fred. "It's why Molly and I want you to stay here with us so badly. She hates that Bill, Charlie, Percy, Harry and even Hermione aren't here too. These are hard times. Dark times. She hates for us to be separated." 

It was odd, that Molly had spent weeks nagging at the girl to bunk with Ginny, yet it had only taken a five minute conversation for Arthur to get her to finally agree. But Lyra found that she couldn't possibly say no. She felt comfortable with the Weasleys, like she had finally found a place she was appreciated and cared for. And so it was that she gathered her belongings, however little they were, and moved into Ginny's room.