firecracker ???

6-5

Slughorn blinked between them. "Wait—are you—?"

Harry threw an arm around her. "She's mine."

Lyra elbowed him in the ribs. He didn't budge.

"You're dating," Slughorn said flatly. "A Malfoy and a Potter."

"Technically a Black," Lyra said.

"A Malfoy in a Black coat," Slughorn muttered. "Still. This is... extraordinary."

"She's been staying at Grimmauld Place," Harry said. "With me. And Sirius."

Slughorn sat down hard on the couch. "Merlin's beard."

He turned to Dumbledore. "You brought me this and expected me to say no?"

Dumbledore smiled.

"They remind me of James and Lily," Slughorn said, almost wistful.

Lyra's brow twitched.

Slughorn grinned. "Very well. I'll come back. If only to see how long this lasts."

"Forever," Harry said without hesitation.

Lyra didn't respond.

But she didn't argue either.

-

The platform at King's Cross was as crowded and chaotic as ever.

Students pushed trolleys with trunks twice their size. Owls hooted overhead. A third year accidentally hexed his suitcase to chase him. Parents called out reminders. First years cried.

Harry stood in the middle of it all like he owned the space, ruffling his hair and flashing smiles at anyone who looked twice.

"You're not famous," Lyra told him as a joke.

He looked down at her and laughed lightly. "Of course not."

Sirius had fussed over both of them. Regulus had told Lyra to hex anyone who looked at her wrong. Narcissa had given a long look before smoothing her daughter's collar and whispering, "Remember who you are." Lucius, with his usual coolness, had simply nodded.

"You'll do us proud."

Draco hadn't been there.

Not at the platform.

Not all summer.

And Lyra tried not to think about how much she'd missed him.

The train groaned. Steam hissed. The scarlet engine loomed.

Lyra found her usual compartment near the back.

Draco was already there, waiting.

He looked taller. Sharper. Eyes a little more tired. His hair was neat, his robes crisp, but his face cool and collected.

Yet when he looked up and saw her standing there, hair windswept from the platform and shoulders squared like always, it cracked something in his expression.

He moved closer at once.

Neither of them said a word.

Then, quietly, she met him in the middle and hugged him.

Draco didn't hesitate. His arms wrapped around her shoulders with a sharpness that spoke to just how long he'd been holding it in. She felt the breath leave him, the subtle drop of his weight as he leaned in, just for a second.

It was warm. And brief. And everything.

"I hated it," Draco said under his breath. "Being there. Without you."

"I know."

"I mean it. You're— everything's different without you."

She tightened her grip. "I missed you too."

Behind them, the door slid open.

"Well," Harry announced brightly, "don't hug too long. I'm fragile and jealous."

Draco didn't move.

Lyra didn't either.

They both turned their heads and stared at him, expressions matching.

Harry blinked. "Right. Shutting up."

"Good," they said in perfect unison.

Behind him, Theo whistled. "How is he still alive?"

Harry made a face and slid into the seat across from them as the rest of the compartment filled: Blaise, Theo, Daphne, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. The core group — reunited at last. And Harry, impossibly, had wormed his way into it too.

Draco didn't say anything else, but when Lyra sat down beside him, he stayed a little closer than usual.

She didn't comment.

Harry did.

"You two do realise I'm the boyfriend, right?"

"You're a boyfriend," Draco said smoothly. "Not a twin."

"Should I be concerned?" Harry asked.

Blaise answered. "Yes."

Harry sighed.

The ride had only just settled into its usual rhythm of banter and commentary when owls swooped past the windows, letters clutched in their talons.

One dropped directly onto Blaise's lap.

"Slug Club already," he muttered.

"Already?" Draco echoed, catching his own envelope. "Didn't even make it to lunch."

Lyra opened hers. "Private dinner. Slughorn's favourites."

"His trophies," Pansy said flatly.

"Don't be jealous," Daphne teased.

Draco scoffed. "He only invited me because I have my mother's cheekbones."

Theo scoffed, mockingly. "He didn't invite me."

"You didn't flirt with him," Blaise said, already lounging back with his letter.

"Neither did you."

"I don't need to."

Harry read his slowly. "He says I remind him of my mum."

"You remind everyone of your mum," Lyra said.

"She was impressive," Blaise added.

"Still is," Harry said. "In photographs. And memories. And constant comparisons."

"She had better hair," Lyra murmured.

Harry mock-gasped. "Take that back."

"No."

He nudged her knee with his. "Say you love me."

She didn't answer.

"Say it."

"No."

"You're thinking it."

"I'm thinking about cursing you."

"That's fair."

Across the compartment, Draco rolled his eyes. "This is going to be unbearable."

"You're just bitter she picked me," Harry said without even turning.

"She didn't pick you," Draco muttered.

"I did," Lyra said.

Harry blinked.

Everyone else blinked.

Theo let out another whistle.

Harry looked positively stunned. Then smug. Then stunned again.

She didn't say it again.

She didn't have to.

He looked at her like the whole bloody castle had just melted.

And Draco — Draco didn't argue.

But he didn't look out the window again either.