An Unpleasant Evening
Later that night, after the Lockwoods had left, Lyra decided it was finally time to make a call to Hermione. Otherwise, her best friend was going to start grilling her like she was a chicken. And it wasn’t just going to be a simple grilling; no, she’d be roasted—slowly, with extra seasoning.
Just the thought of Hermione’s fiery scolding made Lyra wince. She couldn’t avoid it any longer. After making sure Teddy had run off all the energy from his afternoon nap, she instructed Kreacher to keep an eye on him while he played by the pond. The house elf settled into a cozy chair on the patio, a perfect vantage point from which he could watch the little boy.
With everything in order, Lyra retreated to the parlor. From there, she could keep an eye on Teddy through the window, content that he was safe while she made her call. She retrieved the communication mirror from the drawer and tapped it thrice.
"Hermione."
The mirror flickered, and soon, the familiar image of Hermione appeared in the hologram, her face twisted into an expression of feigned disapproval.
"How long does it take for you to call, young lady?" Hermione scolded immediately."You promised you’d call me this morning!"
Lyra rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re already scolding me, Hermione? I literally just called you.”
Hermione sighed dramatically, adjusting her glasses. “I was just so worried! You’ve been gone for hours!”
“Okay, okay, calm down. It’s been a busy day. I had to settle into the house, do some Muggle paperwork, and— Where is Ron?” Lyra asked getting distracted.
Hermione sighed dramatically. “Ron? He’s completely exhausted. He’s been helping with the reparations and everything since the war. He hasn’t stopped working for days.”
“Sounds like he deserves a good rest,” Lyra remarked, her tone softening.
“Yes, he’s absolutely drained,” Hermione agreed. “But enough about that. How’s everything on your end? How was your evening?”
Lyra grinned, leaning back in her chair as she gathered her thoughts. “Oh, the Lockwoods came by. They tried to pry into my life, get me to spill some information. But I handled it. I made sure they didn’t get anything out of me.”
Hermione’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Really? You didn’t tell them anything?”
Lyra shrugged casually. “What can I say? I know how to manipulate a situation when I need to.”
Hermione laughed, a small hint of disbelief in her voice. “You know, you really weren’t supposed to be a Gryffindor. You should have been a Slytherin.”
Lyra smirked. “Well, that’s what happens when a Dark Lord’s soul gets stuck in your forehead.”
Hermione shook her head, clearly trying to hide her smile. “You always manage to surprise me.”
Changing the topic, Lyra asked, “So, what’s going on back in Britain? Any updates?”
Hermione's face grew more serious, the weight of the situation settling over her. “There are raids happening at suspected Death Eater homes. They’re trying to find anyone who might still be loyal to Voldemort, anyone hiding out after the fall. It’s a mess, honestly.”
Lyra nodded, her expression darkening. “I need you to keep me posted on everything, Hermione. The people who gave everything to their Lord—they didn’t just disappear. A lot of them are still after me.”
Hermione’s expression softened, a mixture of concern and understanding. “I’ll keep you updated, I promise. Just... be careful. You don’t know what some of these people are capable of now that their Lord is gone.”
Lyra nodded, her voice firm. “I’ll be fine. Let them try.”
Hermione gave her a small, worried smile. “Just be careful, alright? You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”
Lyra’s lips curved into a brief, reassuring smile. “I know. I’ve got you.”
The two friends shared a moment of silent understanding before Lyra’s voice broke the stillness.
“I’ve got to go. I still need to grab a bite before I get Teddy to bed. I’ll call you and Ron tomorrow, okay?”
Hermione nodded, her smile returning. “Alright, take care. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Love you,” Lyra said, before blowing her a kiss and cutting the call.
With the mirror now dark, Lyra sighed, her mind racing with all the news she had heard and the weight of what was to come. But for tonight, there was a simple comfort in knowing she had her friends' support.
She stood up, stretching out the last of the tension in her muscles. A quick meal was in order—after all, it had been a long day. With one last glance at Teddy, who was still playing under Kreacher’s watchful eye, Lyra headed out to grab something to eat, letting the quiet of the evening settle over her.
Lyra trudged down the dimly lit hallway, her feet dragging like she was hauling a sack of bricks. She could practically feel the exhaustion seeping into her bones, a tiredness that had started the moment her feet hit the floor this morning. The day had been a chaotic mess—Teddy had been a whirlwind, as always, and now that he was finally asleep, she could almost hear the sound of a very loud, very dramatic sigh of relief in her head. As much as she adored the little menace, she couldn’t deny that chasing him around for hours on end was enough to make even a seasoned marathon runner question their life choices.
Peeking into Teddy's room one last time, Lyra checked to make sure he was still breathing. The soft rise and fall of his chest was the most peaceful thing she’d seen all day. How had something so small and so innocent turned her life into a never-ending, exhausting game of "catch me if you can"? She almost smiled, but then remembered she had to keep it together for a few more seconds.
Turning to Dobby, who’d been dutifully standing guard by the door—because apparently, Teddy needed an elf to babysit him too—Lyra said, her voice a little more exhausted than usual, "Keep an eye on him for me, Dobby. I’ll be back in a bit... probably with more paperwork, because my life is a constant parade of administrative bliss.”
The elf gave her a firm nod, his ears twitching with a little too much enthusiasm. "Of course, Mistress Lyra. Little Master Teddy will be safe. Go, enjoy your meal, yes?"
Lyra nodded with the kind of gratitude only someone who had been running on caffeine and sheer willpower for hours could manage. "Yeah, I’ll try. If I don’t collapse first," she muttered under her breath, throwing on a jacket and heading toward the door.
The cool night air slapped her face as soon as she stepped outside, and she instantly felt the weight of the day wrap itself around her even more tightly. She had more calls to make—about her education, about her magical training, about anything and everything that had to be sorted out because Muggle school was apparently a requirement for existing in the Muggle world. How ridiculous. As if a few classes in Advanced Muggle Studies were going to make up for the fact that she had a Dark Lord’s soul attached to her forehead. But hey, at least she had the documents to back it up, thanks to Gringotts's creative efforts.
At 18, she was definitely on the older side of high school students, not that age mattered when you were dealing with a life that had already been anything but typical. An emancipated adult, done with the childish notion of "being young" and already buried under a mountain of magical qualifications like Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures. The Muggle qualifications? Sure, they were needed, but what was a bit of paper in comparison to everything else she had going on?
As Lyra marched down the street, the idea of a meal sounded pretty great—possibly even a drink, or two, if the world was being generous. She could already feel the warmth of the Mystic Grill calling to her like a beacon of hope in a sea of chaos. A plate of something that didn’t come from her kitchen, maybe even something that wasn’t a burnt sandwich.
She’d had to cancel her Fire Whiskey shipment again, which she’d been holding onto like a beacon of hope for herself. That was more annoying than she cared to admit, and she would definitely be calling that company once she was back—because what was a life without a little bureaucratic nonsense to spice things up?
For now, though, she was done with the to-do lists. Done with the endless demands. Just a few hours of peace, that was all she asked for. A chance to sit down, maybe not think about everything that was still left to do, and just eat something that wasn’t cold pizza or crackers.
The Mystic Grill was just around the corner, and her feet started moving faster, like they knew there was something better waiting for her than the endless grind of paperwork and life. She wasn’t sure what was waiting for her there, but at least it wasn’t the overwhelming reality of everything else that still needed to be done.
For now, she could enjoy the moment. Well, at least until tomorrow when the chaos would pick up again.
And she needed a drink.
Lyra sat at the bar, nursing her drink, her fingers tapping absently on the glass. She wasn’t supposed to be drinking, not that anyone was going to stop her, considering her age. But honestly, she was beyond the point of caring. It had been one of those days. She needed a drink, and a strong one at that.
As the bourbon was set in front of her, she could feel the weight of someone approaching from behind, a presence that immediately made her stomach twist. The unmistakable stench of death—something so vile, so nauseating, it was enough to make anyone lose their appetite. But Lyra didn't turn around. She didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. His aura was all too familiar.
"Well, hello, Katherine," came the voice, smooth and annoyingly confident.
Lyra didn’t react. Instead, she took a slow sip of her drink, barely sparing him a glance. Really? That old trick? She thought. A random name, a smooth approach. So last season.
The man—of course, it was a man, a vampire no less—didn’t get the hint and reached out, grabbing her wrist with a tight grip.
"Katherine, you will look at me when I'm talking to you," he commanded, as if that was supposed to mean something.
Lyra’s lips curled into a wry smile. “First of all,” she began, her voice calm but dripping with an icy venom, “I don’t see anyone by the name of Catherine around here. And secondly, mister,” she yanked her wrist free with a sharp twist, her gaze now locked with his, “you better leave my hand, or you’ll regret it. Trust me.”
The vampire smirked, clearly amused. “Oh, the kitty’s got claws, huh?”
Lyra’s eyes narrowed as she leaned in, her voice a dangerous growl. “Listen here, you vampire. I’m not in the mood for dealing with any supernatural nonsense right now. So, you can leave me the hell alone, or I’ll Crucio you until you bleed out your ass. Understood?”
Damon didn't waste a second. In the blink of an eye, his cold, iron grip shot out, seizing her by the throat. With a speed that could only belong to someone of his kind, he yanked her forward and slammed her against the wall, the force enough to rattle her bones.
Lyra's breath caught in her throat, but her eyes flared with fury. She didn’t gasp or cry out, but the pressure of his grip made it harder to breathe. Still, she wasn’t one to fold easily.
"You're making a mistake," Damon sneered, his face inches from hers, his breath cool against her skin. "I’m not just any vampire, you of all people sweetheart."
She glared up at him, her pulse quickening, not from fear, but from the adrenaline rush. She'd been in worse scrapes, far worse. "I think you should be the one watching your neck," Lyra hissed, her voice cold and steady despite the situation.
Damon paused, his smirk faltering for just a moment. "Wait—you're not Katherine," he said suddenly, realization dawning on him. “Katherine doesn’t have those... gorgeous emerald eyes.”
That made Lyra’s eyebrow twitch. Who the fuck is Katherine?
Her patience ran thin. With a movement too fast for him to anticipate, she grabbed his wrist and flung him toward the nearest wall. It was a clean, quick motion. He slammed into it, but instead of crumpling, he pulled himself up, ready to face her again. She barely noticed as he tried to regain his balance.
"I told you, vampire, leave me alone," she muttered, her exhaustion getting the best of her.
Damon, as if unbothered, made another attempt to get closer, but Lyra was done playing games. Her hand twitched.
“Bombarda!” she shouted, and before he could react, he was sent flying back through the air, crashing hard into the alleyway outside.
She stood there for a second, her breath coming a bit quicker than usual from the exertion. Wandless magic wasn’t as taxing for her as it would be for most witches, but it did drain her more than she'd like to admit. The best part, however, was that it was undetectable. It wasn’t like she had to worry about some stupid Ministry enforcer finding her.
Damon picked himself up, groaning. He dusted himself off, clearly startled, but now he had a look of genuine curiosity in his eyes. “A wand-wielder?” he mused.
Lyra rolled her eyes, walking toward him with a slow, deliberate pace. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. “Seems like you’ve finally come to your senses.”
Lyra rolled her eyes, walking toward him with a slow, deliberate pace. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. “Who are you?”
“Damon Salvatore," he said with a smirk, offering a lazy bow. "Charmed to meet you.”
Lyra’s lips twitched, not exactly charmed. “Rosalina Black,” she replied with barely a glance, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Not at all pleased to meet you.”
Lyra's patience was wearing thin, her frustration bubbling up with every second. Damon had clearly underestimated her, just as she had anticipated, and now he was paying the price. As he attempted to grab her wrist again, she was quicker this time, ducking under his arm and twisting his wrist behind his back with the practiced ease of someone who'd dealt with far worse.
She could feel the tension in his arm as she held him, the little victory of having the vampire at her mercy not lost on her. But the absurdity of the situation kept gnawing at her. Back of the Mystic Grill... People outside probably think we’re just a couple of idiots in a drunken brawl... She couldn’t help but roll her eyes internally. All she wanted was a meal and a drink. Was that too much to ask for in a world where vampires and wizards were constantly trying to kill each other?
"I just told you not to touch me, Vampire," she said, her tone laced with irritation, her grip tightening around his wrist just enough to make her point clear.
Damon, however, didn’t seem to be phased. With a sarcastic tilt of his head, he shrugged, acting like being held hostage by a mere human didn’t faze him. "And I just told you my name, young lady," he countered smoothly, though his eyes flickered with annoyance as he struggled against her hold.
Lyra’s hand gripped tighter around Damon’s throat, her fingers digging into his skin as she pushed him further against the wall. The air crackled with tension, both of them staring each other down, neither willing to give an inch.
Damon’s eyes flickered with recognition. "Black," he murmured, almost to himself. "Black as in the ancient, most noble house of Black?"
Lyra’s lips curled into a slight smirk, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Yes. What's that got to do with you?" she snapped, keeping her voice low, but sharp.
Damon’s expression flickered for a moment, before his lips stretched into a knowing grin. "Are you related to Cassiopeia?"
The name hit her like a blow to the chest, and she momentarily faltered in her grip, the surprise clear on her face. "How do you know her?" she demanded.
Damon shrugged, the gesture nonchalant, though the glint in his eyes was far from casual. "She was the one who founded Mystic Falls alongside the Salvatores, Lockwoods and others."
Lyra’s hand stiffened, her expression unreadable as she processed the information. "You knew my great aunt?" she asked, voice quiet but intense.
"Indeed I did," Damon replied, his tone almost amused. "And let’s just say, you're quite like her. Especially when it comes to physical prowess." He gave a low chuckle, clearly relishing the confrontation, even in the face of her strength.
Lyra’s grip loosened, but only slightly. "Why did you attack me?" she asked, her voice steady, despite the rush of emotions brewing underneath.
Damon raised an eyebrow. "You weren’t exactly making it easy, sweetheart," he said, but his voice held a trace of something more complicated—maybe curiosity. "You’re a handful."
She didn’t flinch. "And who is Katherine?" Lyra pressed, suddenly feeling a shift in her focus. There was something about the mention of the name that unsettled her, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Damon’s expression darkened for a split second. "It’s a long story," he muttered, his tone more serious than she expected.
Lyra could feel her mind racing, but before she could press further, a sudden pull tugged at her, like a cord snapping taut inside her chest. She paused, her gaze briefly clouding over. It was Dobby—her loyal house elf, pulling at their bond. Teddy must be awake. And without a second thought, Lyra’s expression shifted from frustration to determination.
She let Damon go entirely, her fingers slipping from his throat as she stepped back, her mind already half focused on what was more pressing. "I don’t have time for this," she muttered, her voice now firm and final. "I have somewhere to be."
Damon blinked, momentarily thrown off as she turned on her heel. "What?!" he called after her, confusion evident in his voice. "We were just getting started."
Lyra didn’t even look back. She walked to the counter, grabbed the paper bag with her hamburger—already packed and waiting for her—and without another word, she rushed out the door. The wind ruffled her hair as she sped toward the street, the pull of her bond with Teddy guiding her every step. Damon stood in the alleyway, still processing what had just happened, clearly left with more questions than answers.
"What the hell just happened?" he muttered to himself, staring after her retreating figure, bewildered and—unfortunately for him—more intrigued than ever.
Damon stood frozen in the alleyway, his mind whirling with confusion. What the hell just happened? He ran a hand through his tousled hair, trying to make sense of the whirlwind encounter. His eyes lingered where she had disappeared, still burning with curiosity, but also... something else. There was no denying it. She had him rattled.
This girl—she looked exactly like Katherine. The same confident stride, the same aura of mystery, the same fire in her eyes. But... no, it wasn’t possible. She had raven hair, not Katherine’s dark tresses. And those eyes—emerald green, like nothing he’d ever seen before. There was something haunting about them. Something powerful. More than kind of power that Katherine had—this girl had an edge, a fierceness to her that felt different.
Was it possible? A doppelganger? But... how could there be two? He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. He was no stranger to the doppelganger curse—hell, he had lived through it himself. But two of them? Two doppelgangers walking around in the same town, let alone one from the ancient, noble house of Black? It didn’t make any sense.
Why would a doppelganger be part of the Black family? That didn’t track at all. The Black family was full of power, but they didn’t exactly mix with the supernatural in that way. This girl—she wasn’t like the others. She had an energy about her, a raw, untapped power that made him want to know more. Too much more. His mind raced through possible answers, but none of them seemed to add up. Not the way she’d handled him, not the way she’d barely flinched when he grabbed her. She wasn’t just a doppelganger. She was something else.
His gaze drifted back to the spot where she’d been standing, a mixture of frustration and something else rising in his chest. What was it? Intrigue? No, it was more than that. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something undeniable about her presence. Something... magnetic.
His mind spun in circles. Her attitude, the way she fought back—it had been like fighting someone who wasn’t scared. And god, the way her fingers had tightened around his throat, the sharpness of her words. He could still feel the burn of her grip, even though she’d let him go. She wasn’t like the others, not like the humans or vampires he had dealt with before. She was different. And it both unsettled him and excited him all at once.
This was going to be interesting.