firecracker ???

Lyra Black had not left the dormitory in four days.

The room had dimmed itself in sympathy. Curtains drawn. Fire low. Charms cast for quiet. Her bed had become a fortress—pillows stacked like walls, blankets drawn to her chin. Pansy brought tea, Daphne brought hair ribbons, Theo passed along class notes with funny little doodles in the margins. Draco came twice a day, muttering complaints outside the curtain like he wasn't worried.

But Lyra didn't budge.

She hadn't eaten properly since the lake. Hadn't slept deeply either. Madam Pomfrey sent word asking if she was ill. Snape pretended not to notice. The rest of the castle whispered.

"She's grieving something."

"She's lost her edge."

"Do you think she's cursed?"

"I heard she fainted on the third floor."

"I heard she hexed someone and got suspended."

"I heard she's in love."

Draco had offered explanations where needed, most of them vague but enough to keep the Slytherins in check. Theo brought her notes without asking. Pansy and Daphne took turns attempting coaxing charms—tea, chocolates, a new hair ribbon from Gladrags. But she remained curled in bed, face to the stone wall, her name unspoken except for whispers and worry.

Harry found himself retracing paths she used to walk, showing up in corridors he used to see him. But she didn't appear. 

On the Marauder's Map, her name drifted each day between the Slytherin girls' dormitory and the lavatory. No classes. No halls. Elestara Black, unmoving but not invisible.

Harry noticed. Every time he opened the parchment, his eyes went to her first—out of habit now. The name stayed put. Dormitory. Dormitory. Dormitory.

He hadn't seen her properly since that night in the snow.

He didn't like how much that bothered him.

So when Saturday came, Harry had only wanted to walk off the strange energy that had been simmering under his skin all morning. He wasn't expecting to see her but when he rounded the bend near the Charms corridor and saw her standing by the window, arms folded against the sill—his heart stopped.

But there she was.

Leaning against the arched window, her posture rigid but her expression distant, as though she'd forgotten anyone might find her. 

Something in him pulled forward.

"Elestara," he said, more confidently than he felt as he walked into her peripheral.

She didn't look at him. "Potter."

"That's it?" He stepped closer. "No insults? No elegant disdain?"

"I'm conserving energy."

"For?"

"Not you."

He tilted his head. "You sure? I feel like I've been living rent-free in your head."

She arched a brow and gave him the kind of look that could kill most other boys.

Harry grinned anyway.

"Must've missed me, though," he said. "Just a little. You haven't insulted my hair in a week."

"I was hoping if I ignored you long enough, you'd start improving out of desperation."

"I live for your approval."

She side-eyed him. "That's pathetic."

"You wound me."