Lyra was peeved. She couldn't recall if Draco had ever walked away from her in a huff like that before, and because of this she felt guilty. Which, in turn, made her feel even more disagreeable
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Draco wasn't reading. He wasn't taking care of his snake or buffing his nails or writing in his journal. He wasn't doing any of the normal things he got up to in his spare time.
He was staring. Glaring, more like, while he struggled to beat down the utter humiliation churning in his gut. A humiliation he couldn't even really explain. Much worse things had happened to him. He'd faced the Dark Lord, for Merlin's sake.
"How did you ever manage that?" he drawled without looking at the intruder, "Would you like a medal?"
Lyra narrowed her eyes at him and wandered further into his room. Curious, she slumped down onto his bed. "You just left me there," she pointed out as she toed off her shoes, though the irritation melted significantly as she stared.
"And why on earth would I have stayed?" he scoffed, and it seemed a perfectly reasonable question, with a perfectly obvious answer. There wasn't a reason. None at all, that he could see.
Silently, she ran the tip of her tongue over the front of her teeth and simply continued to stare expectantly at him. As if an explanation was sure to follow if she just waited patiently enough.
"You know, that wasn't actually rhetorical," he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair and mussing it horribly, then repressing the urge to scramble and fix it in the mirror.
"What exactly do you want, Lyra? An apology? You'll be waiting a rather long time, I'll tell you now and save you the trouble."
But after a moment her expression softened as she scooted a little bit closer. Draco couldn't have masked his irritation even if he'd wanted to. "I'm sorry," she suddenly sighed, as if it took all her will power to give him that.
She scooted closer and he stiffened, looking very much like he had no idea what to do with her sitting so close and looking at him like that. And it was a rare thing, hearing an apology directed at him that wasn't forced out by fear of pain or ridicule.
His lip twitched, wavering somewhere between a sneer, and of all things, a smile. "For what?" he prodded, because he just couldn't help himself.
Lyra fondly rolled her eyes, then launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his shoulders precisely because she knew the physical contact would disarm him.
"I know, I know," she sighed. "I just... something happened," she murmured, sliding down from him to stretch out on the bed beside his legs. "There's no excuse but... there it is."
So suddenly and unexpectedly attacked, Draco let out a yelp, ready to push her away just so he could breathe again, but then she was pulling away on her own, lounging on his bed as if she owned the place.
Lyra's temper flared, sparking white hot and threatening violence in her posture. Her hands clenched with frustration.
But her anger receded just as quickly as it'd shown itself, leaving her soft where she sat. She licked her lips and sighed. "He wasn't," she calmly corrected him. "He just can't be somewhere without a purpose. I'm a lot like him, I think. I hope, anyway."
"Fine, whatever you said," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, because from what he'd seen, bastard didn't seem too far off. But he'd never had a father who'd shown him any warmth or kindness, so having a bastard for a father didn't seem so strange.
He was staring. Glaring, more like, while he struggled to beat down the utter humiliation churning in his gut. A humiliation he couldn't even really explain. Much worse things had happened to him. He'd faced the Dark Lord, for Merlin's sake.
"How did you ever manage that?" he drawled without looking at the intruder, "Would you like a medal?"
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Pan, for his part, stayed a fair distance away.
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Silently, she ran the tip of her tongue over the front of her teeth and simply continued to stare expectantly at him. As if an explanation was sure to follow if she just waited patiently enough.
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"What exactly do you want, Lyra? An apology? You'll be waiting a rather long time, I'll tell you now and save you the trouble."
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But after a moment her expression softened as she scooted a little bit closer. Draco couldn't have masked his irritation even if he'd wanted to. "I'm sorry," she suddenly sighed, as if it took all her will power to give him that.
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His lip twitched, wavering somewhere between a sneer, and of all things, a smile. "For what?" he prodded, because he just couldn't help himself.
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"For being abusive and rude," she sang, but her tone was far enough from a bragging one to count for something.
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"This might surprise you, but I do actually have feelings. They're quite sensitive, really. You should be more careful."
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"I know, I know," she sighed. "I just... something happened," she murmured, sliding down from him to stretch out on the bed beside his legs. "There's no excuse but... there it is."
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"What? What happened?"
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"My father. It's fine, though," she quickly amended, her eyes slipping off somewhere to the side. "He hated it here anyway."
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He'd thought it, from time to time, about his own father, but he never would've dared say it aloud, for fear of being struck down dead where he stood.
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But her anger receded just as quickly as it'd shown itself, leaving her soft where she sat. She licked her lips and sighed. "He wasn't," she calmly corrected him. "He just can't be somewhere without a purpose. I'm a lot like him, I think. I hope, anyway."
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"So you're not cross with me anymore?" she suggested.
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