BURNED DREAMS▪️ F. WEASLEY ▪️...

By willadesroches

1.6K 52 4

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃, 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⚡ A woman returns home, expecting to find a drizzle, only... More

chapter II: lyra
chapter III: fred
chapter IV: lyra
chapter V: lyra
chapter VI: fred
chapter VII: lyra
chapter VIII: lyra
chapter IX: fred
chapter X: lyra
chapter XI: lyra
chapter XII: fred
chapter XIII: lyra
chapter XIV: lyra
chapter XV: lyra
chapter XVI: fred
XVII: a death eater in disguise
XVIII: lover
XIX: pride & prejudice
XX: few stars less
XXI: a grim old place
XXII: evasion
XXIII: the end of beginning

chapter I: lyra

167 4 0
By willadesroches

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒

𝐋𝐲𝐫𝐚 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞

''You are a sinner, Lyra.'' he chuckled, tipsiness drowning her tears.

''Oh,'' she whispered. ''But gods don't sin, Fred.''

🌘🌑🌒


''. . .We expect you home for Christmas. Sincerely, Narcissa.''

''You'll come, right?''

''Yes,'' she sighed heavily and felt pain wash over her. It was a hard answer to mouth. Lyra folded the letter carefully and threw it in her bag. ''Mother is coming home.''

''Can she call it home?'' Katherine whispered, avoiding Snape's piercing glares. No comments from him and Lyra knew exactly why. Slytherins? Yes. Favourites? Yeah, you could call them that. Infamous last names? Precisely that.

''No. Not anymore.'' Lyra turned her gaze away from Katherine's strikingly blue eyes and tried focusing on the potion. It was no easy job. Her mother - her mother home after 14 years of Azkaban, and Lyra would not be there to meet her and, perhaps, hug her? No, not hug her. Shake hands? Yes, that would be it. 

''Class dismissed. You are hopeless.'' the echo of Snape's disappointed voice was lost in the mass of murmurs and shuffling of parchments, and though he had no reason to be annoyed with sixth years, he was. An odd man he was, but her aunt and uncle respected him and, well, Lyra had to too. She was raised as a Malfoy and presented as a Lestrange, dooming her name into an endless cycle of fearful looks. It didn't bother her; she was like her mother, strong, proud, cold - a Lestrange. Lyra would always be a Lestrange.

''Well, that was something.'' said Ruelle, jumping in her and Katherine's conversation as though she did it every day.

A gentle scoff escaped Katherine's mouth and she hurried off to the Great Hall, her robes flying behind her as her braid slowly began falling apart.

''What's up with her?'' Ruelle asked, putting her wand behind her ear.

''Started the day on the wrong foot, I guess.''

Ruelle shrugged and rushed in the Hall, her robes not being not even close to Katherine's perfection. The three were best friends. She was the only one not famous with Death Eater name and her parents did not want their child around those children, and still they could only sit and watch silently as Katherine was being sorted to Slytherin. Katherine came from the family of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and no one expected her ambition to take over. 

Food in Hogwarts after seven years became dull, thought Lyra. Or was it the excitement and nervousness making it dull? Ruelle certainly didn't think that; she was stuffing herself with chicken and potatoes and grabbing a cup of apple juice. It was as if she did not have house elves at home.

''Aunt sent me a letter.''

''Pfft, she wants you home for holidays?'' she guessed and shot a look to Draco down the table where he was smirking with Pansy. Pansy, what kind of name is that? ''Heard your mom's out. Who's she gonna kill next?''

Lyra felt a spark of anger. She loved Ruelle almost like her own sister, but Lyra hated her jokes about her family. Yes, they were all obsessed about blood purity and their ideal public image, but it didn't mean that Lyra didn't share their views.

''You, if you don't shut up. Fourth years started saying I helped her escape.'' Lyra hissed, her voice venomous like in a snake.

''Did you?'' Ruelle raised her head and in her green-eyed playfulness, Lyra could see curiosity.

Not deciding to answer, Lyra got up, sent her one last look and left for the Defense Against Dark Arts. She could be so inconsiderate, and not to even mention rash. Lyra was impulsive too, just like her mother and was not to be messed with, but still she wasn't like Ruelle. She would never make jokes on her father's situation - William Travers ended up in Azkaban too, and besides that, who was she to joke with her father's situation?

''Wait, Lestrange! You dropped this!''

''I - what?'' she had uttered a response when she collided with a tall red-headed mass that only seemed to worsen her mood.

Fred Weasley was standing before her with a piece of paper which Lyra recognized very well. Narcissa's letter. . .what was it doing in his hands?! He's in Order. . .and his brother is Potter's best friend. . .if he had read it - oh, if he had read it, the Lestranges would never be reunited again!

''You give me that!'' she said and snapped it out of his hands, throwing him in for a surprise. If he had read the letter, then he would know all of it. . . about Voldemort's residence - everything. ''How dare you? It's mine, not yours to read!''

Fred raised his hands defensively and in his eyes shined an honest spark, a spark Lyra hasn't seen in a long time. ''I didn't read it, I swear it.''

''Bloodtraitor.'' she spat and marched in the classroom as her bun fell apart in her fury. Great. Another day spent being anxious. School year had just started and she was already stressing herself while her cousin took strolls around Hogwarts, abusing his prefect position.

Lyra collapsed on her chair and had huffed angrily next to puzzled Katherine who was watching Fred Weasley settle down, scratching his head in confusion.

''Miss., if you will not enter like a civilized person, I suggest you do not take this class.'' the new professor, famously nicknamed Toadface barked at Lyra whose face could not look more threatening. Who was this woman? She had gotten so used at the professors' looks when they saw her, that she had almost forgotten how it feels to be unrecognized. ''Now, what is your name?''

''Lyra Lestrange.'' she replied, a small smirk escaping her. Lyra knew she looked like her mother, and she very well knew how annoying it was to have a fugitive's daughter right under your nose and not being able to do anything.

A shadow of almost invisible frustration flew over the woman's face and she nodded firmly as she said. ''Then, Miss. Lestrange, I suggest you start acting like a proper witch.''

''Don't worry, Professor Umbridge. I am perfectly capable of being a witch.''

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