Chamber of Slytherin

Lydia sat in one of the high-backed chairs near the fireplace, a book open on her lap, though she wasn’t reading. Instead, she was listening to the conversation unfolding around her. Draco, Blaise, and Theo were seated nearby, while a few other Slytherins lingered in the background as they worked on assignments or engaged in their own discussions. The topic at hand, however, was far more interesting than anything a textbook could offer.

“Please. My father said Black was nothing more than a reckless fool, always running with Potter Sr. and that lot.” Said Draco.

Lydia finally looked up from her book, watching them carefully. “So if he wasn’t on the Dark Lord's side, why betray the Potters?”

Blaise snorted. “If he betrayed them. That’s the part that doesn’t add up. The Ministry made sure everyone thought he did, but when has the Ministry ever been good at anything? My mother says they needed someone to blame, and Black was the easiest target.”

Theo nodded. “It’s like what happened with my uncle—arrested for ‘suspicious activity’ when all he did was have the wrong connections. It wouldn’t be the first time the Ministry locked someone up to make themselves look competent.”

Draco’s eyes gleamed with interest. “If that’s true, and Black really didn’t betray the Potters, then why did he break out of Azkaban now?”

Lydia closed her book. “Maybe the real traitor is still out there? I don’t know. Maybe he got tired of being in prison. Makes sense to break out just for that reason.”

—

She measured out her powdered moonstone while he stirred their potion. They worked well together—too well, really. There was a rhythm to their movements, an unspoken understanding that neither of them ever acknowledged. Across the room, at the Gryffindor table, things were not going as smoothly.

“Ron, you’re supposed to stir, not mash it into a pulp,” Hermione hissed, snatching the spoon from his hand. “I was stirring!” Ron protested. “No, you were butchering it,” Hermione muttered, aggressively trying to salvage their mixture.

Lydia bit back a smile as she carefully added three drops of infusion of asphodel to her own cauldron. 

Next to her, Draco let out a low chuckle. “They’re a disaster,” he mused, voice pitched just for her to hear. “Almost painful to watch.” 

Lydia shot him a look. “They’re doing fine.”

“The mudblood is doing fine. The other two are just there for moral support.”

Lydia didn’t dignify that with a response, instead focusing on her own work. But her lips twitched slightly, betraying her amusement. Across the room, Harry caught her eye. She smiled at him in return. 

Draco noticed. His stirring slowed just a fraction. “You’re always watching them,” he murmured. “When are you going to break it off with Potter?”

Lydia exhaled through her nose. “That’s none of your concern. ”

“How unfortunate.”

She shook her head, adding the final ingredient to their potion. The silvery-blue liquid swirled to the correct shade instantly. Perfect.

Snape’s voice cut through the room. “Vials on my desk when you’re finished.”

Lydia and Draco filled their vial with ease, standing at nearly the same time.

“Why are you still with him? You have nothing in common.” He said, jealousy oozing from his voice.

​​Lydia shot him a sideways glance, her expression unreadable. “Not everything is about common interests, Malfoy.”

Draco scoffed, tucking the cork into their potion vial with unnecessary force. “Then what is it about? His moral high ground? His tragic backstory? Or do you just like playing house with the Golden Boy?”

Lydia took a slow breath, steadying herself. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. At first it was about him being the ‘Golden Boy,’ but now… she had real feelings for him. She picked up their vial and strode toward Snape’s desk. Draco followed a beat later, his presence a constant shadow beside her. When she set the potion down, Snape barely spared her a glance before inspecting the liquid inside. “Acceptable,” he muttered, though Lydia didn’t miss the slight nod of approval. Behind her, Draco smirked. As they returned to their station, she caught sight of Hermione hunched over the Gryffindor table, frantically whispering to Harry while Ron sat back with an expression of mild defeat. Their potion was a murky green—decidedly not the silvery-blue it was supposed to be.

Lydia barely had time to process the scene before Draco leaned in again, his voice low and teasing. “I don’t get it. You could do so much better.”

She turned, her patience wearing thin. “You mean you?”

Draco’s smirk didn’t falter. “I didn’t say that.”

Lydia let out a short laugh. “You didn’t have to.” I do want him—no—I want Harry. I need to want Harry. Draco would only cause issues with my family.

Before he could respond, Snape called for their attention. “Class dismissed. Homework: a two-foot essay on the properties of moonstone, due Monday. Do try not to disappoint me.”

Students groaned, and the scrape of chairs echoed through the dungeon as everyone began packing up. Lydia grabbed her satchel, but before she could leave, Draco caught her wrist. It was brief—just a brush of fingers before she pulled away—but enough to make her pause.

His gaze was sharp, unreadable. “You should think about it.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “You should mind your own business.”

And with that, she walked away, weaving her way through the throng of students. Lydia sighed. Draco Malfoy was nothing if not persistent.

As Lydia stepped out of the dungeon and into the dimly lit corridor, she felt a presence fall into step beside her.

“Hey,” Harry said softly.

She glanced at him, offering a small smile. “Hey.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of their classmates’ chatter fading behind them. Lydia could feel him looking at her, as if searching for something, but she wasn’t sure what.

“You okay?” he finally asked.

She let out a quiet breath, adjusting the strap of her satchel. “Yeah, just… tired.”

Harry didn’t look convinced. “It’s Malfoy, isn’t it?”

Lydia’s steps faltered just slightly before she recovered. “It’s always Malfoy,” she muttered.

Harry let out a small chuckle, but there was something cautious in his tone when he said, “You two work well together.”

Lydia frowned. “Are you jealous?” 

He let out a breath, ruffling the back of his already-messy hair. “It’s just—he’s always looking at you like—” He stopped, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“Harry,” she said softly, “you have nothing to worry about.” Lydia reached for his hand, her fingers curling around his. His skin was warm against hers, steady. 

Harry exhaled slowly, then gave her hand a small squeeze. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

Her chest tightened at the quiet vulnerability in his voice. “You won’t,” she whispered.

Harry glanced down at her, something unreadable flickering behind his glasses. Then, after a brief hesitation, he lifted a hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His touch was featherlight, but it sent a warmth spreading through her.

“Promise?” he murmured.

“I promise.”

The air was cool against Lydia’s skin as she and Harry walked down toward the Black Lake, their steps slow and unhurried. The castle loomed behind them, its windows glowing like scattered embers in the fading light, but out here, away from the noise and the weight of expectations, things felt different. Lighter. She wasn’t sure why Harry had asked her to walk with him, but she hadn’t questioned it. Maybe because it felt easy to say yes to him. Maybe because it was easier than thinking about other things—other people. The silence stretched between them, comfortable yet charged. Lydia knew Harry wasn’t one for filling empty space with meaningless words, and she appreciated that about him. It was part of why she liked him—why being with him felt simple. But simple didn’t mean easy.

“Are you cold?” Harry asked suddenly, glancing at her.

Lydia shook her head, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her robes. “I’m fine.”

Harry nodded, but he still shifted slightly closer, as if to shield her from the wind. It was instinctive, the way he always seemed to want to protect people. They reached the lake’s edge, the water dark. Lydia looked out at the surface, watching the ripples.

“This is nice,” she murmured.

Harry hummed in agreement. “Yeah.” He hesitated, then glanced at her. “I feel like I barely see you anymore.”

Lydia sighed. “That’s because you don’t. I have my own life, Potter.”

He smirked, nudging her shoulder. “I know that. But still… I miss you.”

Her chest tightened at that. She knew he meant it. And for a moment, she allowed herself to believe that this—this easy, familiar thing between them—was enough. But then she thought of Draco. Thought of the way his voice curled around her name like a secret. Thought of the way he could read her like a book, even when she didn’t want him to. Thought of how every time they fought, it felt like something more, something just on the edge of tipping over into something dangerous. And worst of all, she thought of the way she had started seeking him out without realizing it, the many hours they spent studying in the chamber, advancing their magic. He galvanized her.

Lydia forced herself to focus on Harry. Harry, who was steady. Harry, who was good. Harry, who looked at her like she was something worth holding onto, not like she was something he was trying to figure out. And yet. Yet, when Draco looked at her, it felt like standing at the edge of something vast and unknown, like stepping too close to a fire and knowing she should pull away but never wanting to. She hated that feeling. Hated that it was growing stronger by the day.

“You’re quiet,” Harry said softly.

Lydia blinked, realizing she’d been staring at the water too long. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

She exhaled, forcing a smirk onto her lips. “Oh, you know. Potions class. Homework. How much of a disaster Ron is at everything.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, well. That’s just Ron.”

She nodded, but something in her chest felt tight, wrong. Because she was lying. She wasn’t thinking about any of those things. She was thinking about Draco. And that was a problem. 

“I like being with you,” he admitted. “When it’s just us.”

Lydia swallowed. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

Her heart stuttered. “I don’t.” She lied.

Harry smiled at her—soft, genuine, and completely unaware of the storm raging inside her. “Good.”

Lydia looked at him, at the boy who had been steady and kind and uncomplicated for as long as she’d known him. And she wanted to believe it was enough. But deep down, she knew the truth. Every time Draco Malfoy looked at her with his fervent eyes, she felt herself unraveling. And no matter how much she tried to ignore it, she wasn’t sure she could stop. She felt Harry watching her. She could sense the hesitance in the way he shifted slightly closer, the way his fingers curled into his robes like he was working up the nerve to do something. She turned to him just as he spoke.

“Lydia…” His voice was quiet, careful.

She didn’t have time to process before he leaned in. His lips brushed against hers—gentle, unsure, almost hesitant. It was different from the last time she had been kissed. Draco had kissed her with heat, with quiet certainty, with fingers digging into her waist like he was trying to memorize the feeling of her. That kiss had felt like stepping into something dangerous, something unknown. But this… this was soft. Warm. Steady. And she kissed him back. But as his lips moved gently against hers, her mind betrayed her. She shouldn’t have been thinking about anyone else. Shouldn’t have been comparing the way Harry held her face with the way Draco’s hand had gripped her waist. Shouldn’t have been wondering if it was supposed to feel like this—if it was supposed to feel so quiet. Because kissing Draco wasn’t quiet.

Harry pulled back just slightly, his forehead still close to hers. “Lydia…” he murmured, his breath warm against her lips.

She forced a smile, swallowing the war raging in her head. “Yeah?”

His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, his green eyes searching her dark ones. “That was… amazing.” Lydia almost laughed. It didn’t feel amazing. It felt nice. But nothing special. Why did it feel like something was missing?

She exhaled slowly, nodding. “Yeah. It was.”

Lydia looked out at the water again, trying to shake the weight pressing down on her. Trying to ignore the fact that, despite kissing Harry, despite knowing she should want this, her mind was still somewhere else.

—

She sat down in her seat and listened to Flitwicks instructions for the Cheering Charm. Pansy cast the charm on her and she erupted into giggles.

“Too strong too strong HAHAHA.” She couldn’t control it and fell over with laughter. Draco saw her fall and picked her up off the floor, almost laughing as hard as her, even though no one had cast the spell on him yet. Lydia’s laughter was uncontrollable, bubbling out of her in gasping, breathless fits as she collapsed forward, nearly falling out of her chair again. But before she could hit the floor, a firm hand caught her waist, pulling her back with a smooth, effortless motion. She barely registered it before another fit of giggles overtook her, she laughed harder than she had in weeks. Draco was grinning, his own amusement barely contained as he steadied her, keeping his hands on her waist to make sure she wouldn’t fall again. Just then—Theo cast the spell on Draco, he had barely a second to react before he burst into laughter as well. She was still giggling uncontrollably, her hands gripping the edge of the desk for dear life. Draco, meanwhile, had practically collapsed onto her shoulder, howling with laughter. Lydia was still gasping for breath between giggles, her entire body trembling with the force of it. She barely registered Draco’s arm still wrapped around her waist, steadying her even as he himself was shaking with laughter.

“This—this is ridiculous,” she managed between fits of hysterics, her head resting against Draco’s shoulder as she tried to regain some semblance of control. Draco, however, was no better. His laughter was rich, unrestrained—completely unlike his usual composed self. “This is—this is entirely Theo’s fault,” he choked out, gripping Lydia’s waist just a little tighter as if the contact might help ground him. It didn’t. If anything, it made the moment even more ridiculous. Pansy looked absolutely thrilled, eyes glinting with mischief as she exchanged a knowing glance with Theo. She had been meddling for weeks now, dropping not-so-subtle hints about how wrong Lydia and Potter were for each other, how Draco and Lydia made more sense. How they fit. And as Lydia laughed with Draco, caught in an uncontrollable, delirious moment with him, she felt it too. She felt it in the way he leaned into her, in the way his hands never strayed from her, in the way his laughter mixed with hers like they were existing in their own little world. Then a new voice cut through the chaos.

“Lydia?”

The laughter in her chest came to an abrupt halt. She blinked, still breathless, as she turned to see Harry standing there, watching them with an unreadable expression. Oh. Draco sobered slightly, though amusement still lingered in his stormy eyes. But he didn’t move away. Didn’t drop his hands from her waist. If anything, his grip tightened just slightly.

Harry’s gaze flickered between them, sharp and assessing. His jaw tensed. “Are you okay?”

Lydia swallowed, nodding quickly. “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine. Just—Cheering Charm. Pansy hit me a little too hard with it.” She forced a light laugh, but it felt hollow now, forced.

Harry’s eyes lingered on Draco’s hands.

Draco smirked. “Relax, Potter. I was just keeping your girlfriend from cracking her skull open on the floor.”

Something about the way he said your girlfriend made Lydia’s stomach twist. Harry’s expression remained unreadable, but the tension between them was palpable now. Lydia quickly stepped out of Draco’s grasp, forcing herself to ignore the way his touch lingered like phantom heat.

“I’m fine, really,” she reassured Harry, placing a hand on his arm. He nodded slowly, but she could see it in his eyes. He didn’t believe her. Didn’t believe that there was nothing going on.

—

Lydia pulled her cloak tighter as she and Pansy walked through Hogsmeade. The autumn air was crisp but refreshing. It was their first trip to the wizarding village and they were filled with excitement. Their first stop was Honeydukes. A shop filled with more sweets than anyone could imagine. The moment they stepped inside their senses were enveloped with warmth and sugar. Shelves were packed with colorful sweets, from Fizzing Whizzbees to Chocolate Frogs hopping inside their boxes. Lydia trailed behind Pansy as she filled a small bag with treats, her own eyes scanning the selection. After buying their sweets, they wandered through the village, stopping at Scrivenshaft’s for new quills and briefly browsing Zonko’s, where Pansy refused to step too far inside, claiming it reeked of Gryffindor nonsense. Lydia, however, was amused at the chaos of the joke shop, making a mental note to grab something for the next time Draco got too smug.

As they strolled toward the Three Broomsticks, Pansy looped her arm through Lydia’s and gave her a smile. “You know, I was right about you.”

Lydia glanced at her. “Oh? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Pansy smirked. “That you belong with us.”

Lydia looked ahead at the warmly lit inn. The idea of belonging somewhere had always been complicated for her, but in that moment, with Pansy beside her and the village around them, she felt something close to it. They stepped into the inn, taking in the floating drinks and tables filled with students and older witches and wizards alike. Lydia and Pansy settled into a corner booth, their cloaks draped over the backs of their chairs. They ordered two butterbeers and drank them happily.

“Mind if we sit?”

Lydia glanced up to see Hermione standing beside their table, with Ron lingering behind her with an expression of pure reluctance.

Pansy blinked, then snorted. “Oh, this is new. Granger willingly speaking to me?”

Hermione ignored the remark, her tone clipped. “There’s nowhere else to sit.”

Lydia exchanged a look with Pansy. After a brief moment, Lydia shrugged. “Fine, sit. But if you two start a war at the table, I’m hexing both of you.”

Ron grumbled but dropped into the seat across from Lydia, while Hermione took the chair next to him. Madam Rosmerta came by with two fresh butterbeers, setting them in front of them before going off to another table.

“Great,” Pansy muttered, stirring her drink lazily. “We’re officially mixing with Gryffindors. What’s next, befriending Hufflepuffs?”

Hermione shot her a warning look but didn’t rise to the bait. Ron, however, scoffed. “As if any of you would even know how to be decent to a Hufflepuff.”

“No, but we do know how to have standards,” said Pansy.

Lydia sighed, sipping her butterbeer as Ron glared daggers at Pansy. “Are you two going to do this the whole time?”

Hermione sighed as well, turning to Lydia. “You’re smarter than this. Why do you even put up with her?”

Pansy feigned an offended gasp. “Lydia, love, defend my honor.”

“You two act like this is some grand betrayal. Pansy’s my friend. Just like you two are.”

Ron grumbled, clearly unconvinced. “She’s a menace.”

Pansy took a graceful sip of her butterbeer. “And yet, I’m charming enough that you still sat down.”

Hermione, ignoring Pansy entirely now, turned her attention to Lydia. “You should have heard what we found out today.”

“Oh?”

Hermione nodded, lowering her voice slightly. “It’s about Black.”

Pansy perked up, interest flashing in her eyes. “Ooh, gossip.”

Ron shot her a glare but continued. “Harry overheard McGonagall talking in here earlier. Black isn’t just some random criminal who broke out of Azkaban—he’s after Harry. And get this—he was supposedly You-Know-Who’s right-hand man.”

Lydia frowned, absorbing the information.

Hermione leaned in. “There’s more. He was Harry’s godfather.”

Lydia nearly choked on her butterbeer. “What?”

Ron nodded grimly. “Yeah. And she thinks he’s trying to finish what he started—killing Harry.”

Pansy traced the rim of her glass. “How very dramatic.”

Hermione ignored her, looking straight at Lydia. “We’re trying to figure out how he escaped. No one breaks out of Azkaban. No one.”

Lydia exhaled slowly, setting her drink down. The weight of the conversation made her uncomfortable. “I need to talk to Harry. Where is he?”

“He went back to the castle, had to go through a secret passage through honeydukes,” said Ron.

“Pansy let’s go. Now.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, annoyed, “ugh, I don’t want to see Potter.”

“Then go find Draco and Theo, I’m going back to the castle.” She said sternly.

“Fine. I’ll see you later Lyd.”

Standing up, she said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, and walked as fast as she could back to the castle.

Lydia’s mind raced as she hurried back to the castle. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but she hardly noticed. Sirius Black. The name rattled around in her skull, setting her nerves on edge. Harry’s godfather. How had he never mentioned that before? Did he even know? She didn’t slow her pace until she reached the warmth of the entrance hall, pausing just long enough to catch her breath before making her way toward Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady regarded her with a raised brow. “You again? Unless you’ve miraculously become a Gryffindor overnight, I’m not letting you in.”

Lydia huffed, impatient. “Just get someone for me, please.”

“Who?”

“Harry Potter.”

The Fat Lady sighed dramatically but swung aside a moment later, and to Lydia’s relief, Harry himself appeared in the doorway, looking puzzled.

“Lydia?” His brow furrowed as he stepped into the corridor, rubbing the back of his neck. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t waste time. “I need to talk to you.”

“Come inside,” he said, tugging her hand gently.

Lydia blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. You’ve never been in the common room, right?”

She shook her head, suddenly feeling strangely out of place. “No. It’s not exactly Slytherin-friendly territory.”

Harry smirked. “Well, I’m inviting you. So that makes it Potter-friendly.”

Before she could protest, he stepped toward the portrait hole, pulling her along with him. The Fat Lady arched a painted eyebrow but didn’t object, swinging forward to reveal the passage inside. Lydia took a deep breath and stepped through. The Gryffindor common room was… warm. That was the first thing she noticed. The large hearth blazed with a roaring fire, casting golden light over the room. Deep red and gold tapestries covered the walls, depicting famous Gryffindor moments in history. There were squashy armchairs and worn but comfortable-looking couches scattered around, and a few students were still lingering, talking in quiet groups or finishing up homework. It felt… different. Cozy. Lived in. It didn’t have the sleek elegance of the Slytherin common room, with its cold stone walls and dark green glow from the Black Lake. It didn’t feel like a place built for strategy and power plays. Instead, Gryffindor Tower was welcoming. The kind of place where people could curl up by the fire and talk about nothing for hours.

“Wow,” she murmured, turning to take it all in.

Harry watched her, an amused smile playing at his lips. “Not what you expected?”

She turned back to him. “I expected… I don’t know. A giant shrine to Godric Gryffindor. Maybe some Quidditch banners.”

Harry snorted. “We do have Quidditch banners.” He pointed to a far wall, where a red and gold banner with the Gryffindor lion was pinned up. 

Seamus Finnigan, who had been sitting on one of the couches, leaned forward with a wide grin. “Oi, Potter, you bringing Slytherins into our sacred temple now?”

Dean Thomas, lounging beside him, smirked. “Next thing we know, Malfoy’ll be making himself at home by the fire.”

Lydia scoffed. “Not likely. He thinks red and gold is offensive to his aesthetic sensibilities.”

“Alright, leave her alone,” Harry said, shaking his head as he led her toward a quieter corner near the fireplace. “You’re gonna scare her off.”

Lydia snorted. “Please. You Gryffindors are nothing compared to Pansy and Draco on a bad day.”

He grinned as they reached the couch closest to the fire. “See? You’re fitting in already.”

She sank onto the couch, the warmth from the fire sinking into her skin. She had to admit—this place was cozy. Maybe a little too cozy. “I just came from the Three Broomsticks,” she started, her voice lower now. “Ron and Hermione told me everything.”

Harry’s jaw tensed. “About Black?”

“Yes.”

Harry exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I figured they would.”

Lydia studied him carefully, noticing the tightness in his shoulders, the way his fists clenched at his sides.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked softly.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, finally, he sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

Lydia frowned. “What? That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” His voice was bitter now. “My parents’ best friend—the man who was supposed to care about me—betrayed them. And now he’s out there, trying to kill me.”

Lydia opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had no idea what to say to that.

Harry let out a humorless laugh. “It’s not exactly something I want to bring up in casual conversation.”

Lydia hesitated before reaching out, taking his hand in hers. “You know I don’t care about any of that, right?”

His fingers curled around hers, his grip firm but warm. “I know.” He swallowed, glancing away. “It just… doesn’t feel real.”

Lydia nodded. “I don’t think anyone would blame you for feeling that way.”

They stood there for a moment, silent, his thumb absently brushing over her knuckles.

Then, finally, Harry exhaled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do.”

She squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

“Thanks.” He gave her a small, tired smile. “Oh I forgot, I wanted to show you something Fred and George gave me.” He led her up to his dormitory. It was circular, red and gold, much smaller than the Slytherin dorms. He pulled out a blank piece of parchment.

“What’s that?” She asked skeptically.

It was a map of the castle. Every single person and their location was shown on it.

“Incredible,” she said, in awe. It was such an intricate piece of magic. This would certainly be advantageous. She saw herself and Harry both in Gryffindor tower.

—

Christmas Day came and she woke up surrounded by presents. Harry gave her a simple silver charm bracelet with a single charm—a silver snake wrapped around a lion. She could add to it over time. Of course, the most extravagant present was from Draco. The first box, when unwrapped, revealed a pair of dragonhide gloves—not just any gloves, but custom-made ones, soft as silk yet resilient, enchanted to protect against even the most volatile potions or magical mishaps. The second package contained a pendant on a delicate silver chain—a Slytherin-green emerald. The third box held a tiny vial of Felix Felicis. She was amazed at the lengths he must have gone to to secure these items. Felix Felicis was the most impressive. He could have only gotten that from some pureblood Malfoy connection. 

Once he returned from break, striding into the common room, she shook her head at him. 

“What?” He asked as he sat down beside her.

“You did not have to gift me all of that. How could I ever repay you?”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to repay me for anything, it was nothing.”

“It obviously wasn’t nothing. How did you even get Felix Felicis??” She asked with her hands on her hips.

“That’s a trade secret, darling.”

“Don’t call me darling.” She huffed. “But thank you. I couldn’t have ever afforded any of it.” She said, a bit embarrassed.

“It’s no problem.”

Excitedly, she went to potions class with her new pair of dragonhide gloves. They were splendid, fitting her perfectly. Draco watched her with amusement as she chopped, mixed, and stirred her ingredients. She also wore her charm bracelet. The necklace would be saved for when Harry and Ron couldn’t see it. Harry would not take well to Draco gifting her a necklace that must have cost at least 50 galleons. 

—

Lydia and Draco quietly slipped into the Chamber of Slytherin. As the hours passed, the two grew more immersed in their studies. She was now able to apparate easily, though she hadn’t tried large distances yet, only in the chamber. Her wandless magic was progressing spectacularly. She was able to cast nonverbal spells and throw out hexes and jinxes.  Draco learned this the hard way when she flung a silent hex at him from across the Chamber, knocking the wind out of him.

At one point, Lydia found a particularly intriguing incantation. "I think this one could enhance a wizard’s ability to manipulate the elements—fire, water, earth, air. It's called ‘Elementium Invocare.’" Together, they began practicing, their wands in perfect synchrony. The training room flickered with sparks as the elements began to respond to their combined power. A gust of wind swirled around them, a wall of fire materialized, they conjured 10 foot waves, made the ground shake. They stood back, eyes wide, as the elements swirled in their command. 

“This is insane,” she said, mesmerized with what she saw in front of her.

They kept practicing how to control the elements, returning to the common room hours later. 

“Did you two have a nice little adventure?” Pansy questioned when they entered. "Every time you disappear, you’re gone for hours. Care to explain? What’s really going on?"

Lydia shifted uncomfortably, but Draco, ever the skilled manipulator, was quick to smooth things over. “Relax, Pansy,” he said smoothly, though there was an edge to his tone. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. Just a bit of… personal study.”

Lydia could feel Pansy’s gaze burning into her, and for a moment, she thought about telling her the truth—the excitement of the magic they had just uncovered. But the words didn’t come. 

“We’re just getting ahead in our studies, Pans,” Draco said, flashing a brief, charming smile. “Nothing to worry about.”

Pansy wasn’t convinced. “Getting ahead?” She scoffed. “You two are the best in our year, you don’t need to get ahead.”

“Why do you think we’re the best?” Lydia sighed. “Obviously it’s because we study.”

“Ugh fine. I still don’t fully believe you.” And she went to bed.