firecracker ???

6-9

-

Soon, the tables were bubbling with potion kits and freshly polished knives. Harry and Ron went to grab copies of Advanced Potion-Making from the cupboard, fighting pettily over who'd use the newer book like kids. Slughorn instructed the class to brew the Draught of Living Death.

Harry sat back down and flipped his tattered book open. It wasn't new, in fact, it looked half-destroyed. Spells and ingredients were scratched out, replaced, reworded, rewritten entirely.

Lyra leaned over, curious. "Where did you get this?"

"Cupboard in the supply room. Last one left."

She raised an eyebrow, eyes skimming over the scrawled annotations. "These instructions are completely different."

"Yeah," Harry had said. "But they make sense. It makes sense to me at least. I understand it all, no need to feel jealous now."

Lyra gave a soft, sceptical noise. Harry knew she didn't believe his nonsensical claim of affinity in Potions.

However, slowly as the minutes passed, his potion deepened to a shade even Slughorn praised. His beans were crushed with the side of the knife instead of chopped. He stirred counter-clockwise. He added a drop of valerian root too soon — only to find it worked better that way.

Ron's potion turned puce. Theo wrinkled his nose and complained to Daphne.

Harry's potion was... perfect.

Slughorn stopped in front of him, beaming. "Extraordinary, Harry! Just like your mother. You must have a natural gift."

Harry gave a sheepish shrug. "Lucky guess."

Lyra looked at him. "That wasn't luck."

Slughorn waved a small vial in the air. "You have won it, Harry! Felix Felicis, liquid luck! Use it wisely and enjoy it, my boy."

Harry grinned and took it, holding it up to the light. The class whispered around him.

Lyra reached for his book again.

"This isn't standard potionwork."

"Nope."

"Whose book is this?"

Harry hesitated. "No idea. It just says 'Property of the Half-Blood Prince.'"

Before she could respond, a new voice cut in.

"Give me that."

Draco stood beside them now, expression unreadable.

He flipped the book open, scanned the margins, and frowned.

"This is Uncle Sev's."

Harry blinked. "Snape?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "We don't call him that."

"I do," Lyra said.

"Of course, yes we do," Draco corrected, flipping a few pages. "He gave me my first potions primer with half the instructions rewritten."

Draco pointed. "And that's his capital F. Look—there."

Lyra nodded. "That loop. He's the only man I know who dots his i's with vertical dashes."

Harry laughed. "What, like a checkmark?"

"Don't mock him," Draco said, closing the book and placing it on the desk in front of Harry. "He'd make you write essays on dragon bile."

Harry hesitated — then offered the book. "Here. You can have it."

Draco blinked.

Harry shrugged. "He's your godfather. It's his book."

There was a pause.

Then quietly, Draco took it.

"Thanks."

He didn't sound mocking. Or superior. Just surprised. Genuinely surprised.

Then he clapped Harry once on the shoulder. "I'll copy it for you."

Harry nodded. "Deal."

He turned to find Lyra staring at him.

"What?"

"You just handed over your cheating advantage."

"I handed it to your brother."

"You hate my brother."

"I'm in love with his sister."

Her lips twitched.

"You're stupid."

"I'm romantic."

She rolled her eyes but bumped his knee with hers affectionately under the table.

-

When class ended, Harry tucked the Felix into his pocket. Draco disappeared toward the Slytherin table with the book under his arm.

Lyra didn't speak.

Until they reached the hallway.

"You smelled like Quidditch," she said.

Harry turned. "You smelled like dessert."

She raised an eyebrow. "Not flowers?"

"You're not a flower," he said. "You're peony and vanilla and the only thing I've ever been addicted to."

"That's awful."

"Say thank you."

"No."

He grinned, happy at himself.

She ruffled his hair and laughed with him.

She decided she wouldn't want him any other way— he was happy. Alive. And unmistakably hers.