firecracker ???

1-8

"And admit I was annoyed because I care? Gross."

Pansy giggled. "Unthinkable."

They sat like that a while, in the quiet hush of late night, trading barbed comments softened by warm blankets and older friendships. For all Elestara's snide precision and cutting charm, it was these quiet moments that reminded her she wasn't alone in the legacy she carried—or the burden.

She pulled her pillow close and sighed. "He still could have let me go. Just once."

Daphne nudged her knee. "Next time he challenges a Gryffindor to a duel, you'll be the first to know."

Elestara smirked. "Good. Because if he ever calls Potter out again, I'll be the one to land the first spell."

The next morning, Harry sat stiffly at the Gryffindor table, stabbing halfheartedly at a sausage. Every so often, he glanced up across the hall.

Elestara was sitting with her usual crowd—Theo, Daphne, Pansy, and Blaise—talking quietly, sipping her tea with that practiced elegance he was starting to recognize in every gesture.

Draco, sitting right beside her, looked like he was trying to get her attention. She didn't so much as glance his way.

Harry watched Draco scowl, shift in his seat, say something again. Still nothing from her.

A slow grin tugged at Harry's mouth.

There was something deeply satisfying about watching her ignore her own brother.

Ron was halfway through a story about Fred and George enchanting someone's ink to sing Celestina Warbeck when he noticed.

"You look like someone hexed your eggs. Still mad about Malfoy?"

"Not really," Harry muttered, still smirking faintly. "Just thinking."

He didn't say what about.

-

In the Slytherin common room that evening, a quiet conspiracy was unfolding. It had started with a look from Daphne, followed by an exasperated sigh from Pansy, and then Theo muttering something about needing an actual treaty to stop the twin cold war.

They gathered around their usual corner, books open but ignored. Daphne cast Muffliato. Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"This feels excessive," he said.

"It's necessary," Pansy replied.

Theo folded his arms. "You two are exhausting. And we live with you."

Draco raised both brows. "I've been nothing but civil."

"You picked Blaise as your second and didn't even tell Lyra why until she had to drag it out of you with sarcasm," Daphne said.

"I didn't want her involved!"

"Which is sweet," Blaise said. "If you're eighty and she's five."

Draco scowled.

"You've been moody all week," Theo added. "She's been sniping at you like a feral pixie. We're tired."

Pansy pulled out a folded bit of parchment. "Here's the plan. I'll ask her to go on a walk by the lake. I'll leave halfway through. You show up. Say something dramatic. She softens. You make up. The end."

Draco groaned. "I hate how rehearsed this is."

"Which is why it'll work," Daphne said. "You're too stubborn to fix it naturally."

"Fine," he muttered. "But if this backfires, I'm blaming all of you."

"Deal," Theo said. "Now go be charming and brotherly. You've had practice."

The next day, true to form, Pansy looped her arm through Elestara's and coaxed her out onto the path by the Black Lake. The wind was crisp, the water dark and glassy under the pale sun.

"I still don't know why he thought Blaise was a better second," Elestara muttered.

Pansy offered a knowing smile. "Boys are idiots. Especially brothers."

They walked in silence for a few moments. Then, as rehearsed, Pansy made a show of checking her pocket watch and gasping. "Oh—blast it. I left my quill in the library. Be back in a minute. Don't move."

Elestara blinked. "I could come with you—"

"Stay," Pansy said firmly, already jogging off.

Elestara sighed and turned back to the water.

She didn't hear Draco until he was standing just behind her.

"Wow," he said casually. "Ignoring your older brother like that, your heart's as black as the lake."

She snorted. "I'm a Black, remember?"

Draco stepped beside her, hands in his pockets. "Still. Cold."

"Maybe next time don't cut me out."

"I was trying to keep you safe."

"I didn't ask you to."

He looked at her, really looked, and for a second, the teasing dropped. "You're my sister. You're—Lyra."

She went still. He hadn't called her that in days. Not since the duel.

Draco sighed. "I don't always know how to protect you and respect you at the same time."

She softened. Slightly. "Then stop pretending it has to be one or the other."

"So we're... good?"

"For now," she said.

He gave her a sidelong smile. "Want me to pick you as my second next time?"

She smirked. "Only if you want to be outdueled."

He laughed. "Merlin, I missed this."

She nudged his shoulder. "Don't make it a habit."

But she smiled too.

Draco looked at her for a moment longer, the laughter in his eyes softening. Then, without warning, he pulled her into a tight hug.

Elestara immediately squirmed. "Draco! Let go!"

He only laughed harder. "You missed me, admit it."

"You're wrinkling my robes!"

"You love me. Say it."

"I'll hex you."

He released her just in time to avoid a proper shove, stepping back with hands raised in surrender. "Fine, fine. We're fine, then?"

She crossed her arms. "I already told Father."

Draco froze. "You didn't."

She raised a brow, face perfectly blank.

"Lyra."

"I owled him yesterday. Described everything."

"You didn't."

Her lips twitched. "Did."

He gaped at her.

She grinned. "Didn't."

Realization dawned. "You little—"

But she was already darting away with a laugh. Draco shouted her name and took off after her.

They tore across the grass, robes flying, boots thudding against the earth.

Not far from the castle, Harry stood watching from the path leading up the hill.

He saw her laughing, hair tangled in the breeze, Draco chasing after her like a boy who'd never heard of dignity.

For the first time, he saw what they looked like when they weren't performing for anyone at all.

He smiled, quietly, and turned back toward the castle.