Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
It was 6:55 PM.
Their meeting was at 7:00.
Percy sat rigidly behind his desk, quill in hand, waiting.
He was early, of course. Because he was punctual. He respected schedules. He understood the importance of rules.
Lyra, however, did not.
And Percy was already bracing himself for the worst.
He had spent all day gathering his arguments, preparing for whatever nonsense excuse she would undoubtedly provide. He had written a full list of reasons why her avoidance of Prefect meetings was unacceptable. He had underlined key points.
She would take this seriously.
She had to.
He was fuming.
Not just the mildly irritated kind of fuming.
Not the Fred-and-George-have-caused-another-disaster kind of fuming.
This was a deeper, visceral kind of fury. The kind that settled in his chest and made his hands twitch with the urge to fix something—because something had clearly gone terribly, terribly wrong.
That something was currently strolling into his office.
Late.
At exactly 7:01 PM, there was a knock at the door.
Percy let out a slow breath, forcing his expression into something neutral.
"Enter."
The door swung open, and in strolled Lyra Malfoy.
Late.
By one minute.
She had done it on purpose. He knew she had.
She didn't even look remotely apologetic. If anything, she looked bored, as though being summoned here was a minor inconvenience in an otherwise pleasant evening.
She was holding a lollipop.
A green one, naturally. Because of course she would choose something obnoxiously Slytherin-colored.
She unwrapped it leisurely as she took the seat across from him, not in the stiff, professional manner Percy expected, but in a slow, lazy sprawl.
One leg crossed over the other.
A delicate flick of her wrist as she popped the lollipop into her mouth.
And the absolute audacity of her to simply lean back, gazing at him with a look that said, Go on, then. Let's see what you've got.
And then, to his absolute horror, she smirked.
"What?" she said, her voice slow, amused. "Speechless already?"
Percy inhaled sharply through his nose.
He straightened, adjusting his glasses before clasping his hands on the desk. "Miss Malfoy," he said crisply. "Do you have any idea why I've called this meeting?"
Lyra tilted her head slightly, sucking idly on her lollipop. Then, with an infuriatingly casual shrug—
"Because you have control issues?"
Percy nearly snapped his quill in half.
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, summoning patience. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "Because you have entirely ignored your responsibilities as Head Girl."
Lyra made a thoughtful hum, pulling the lollipop from her lips with a quiet pop. "See, that's interesting," she mused. "Because from where I'm sitting, I've been doing more than my fair share."
Percy hated that response.
It wasn't just dismissive—it was said with such unbearable, casual confidence, like she truly believed she was right.
He sat up straighter, adjusting his glasses. "Skipping Prefect meetings is not doing your job."
"Oh, please," Lyra sighed. "Those meetings are a complete waste of time."
"They ensure order."
"They ensure that you hear yourself talk."
Percy's grip on his quill tightened.
She was impossible.
But worse than that—
She was doing this on purpose.
He could see it in the glint of her eyes, in the slow way she spoke, in the carefully measured smirk playing at her lips.
This wasn't carelessness.
This was calculated.
She enjoyed seeing him unravel.
Percy forced himself to take a deep breath. "Regardless of your personal opinion," he said through gritted teeth, "Prefect meetings are mandatory. As is reporting infractions. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to maintain order when one half of the leadership team refuses to do their part?"
Lyra arched a brow. "You act like I've been off on holiday."
"You might as well have been," Percy snapped. "Where have you been, exactly?"
She shrugged. "Handling things."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Percy glared.
She smiled.
Merlin, he wanted to strangle her.
Instead, he forced himself to remain seated, gripping his clipboard so hard his knuckles turned white. "Prefects are required to file reports," he said, voice tight. "There is protocol. There is a system."
Lyra exhaled, clearly unimpressed. "Weasley, if I stopped every five minutes to write down every minor infraction, I'd have parchment stacked to the bloody ceiling."
Percy's jaw locked. "That is not how this works."
She leaned forward slightly, twirling the lollipop between her fingers. "That's how I work."
Percy wanted to scream.
Instead, he straightened, forcing authority back into his voice. "Let me be perfectly clear, Malfoy," he said, eyes narrowing. "This isn't optional. You will attend meetings. You will submit reports. You will follow protocol."
Lyra tilted her head slightly, regarding him with something almost like... amusement.
Then, in a move that made his blood boil, she leaned forward, elbows resting against his desk.
She smiled.
And oh, he hated that smile.
"That's cute, Weasley," she murmured. "You think you can make me."
Percy saw red.
He shot to his feet, hands slamming against the desk. "That's your JOB!"
Lyra didn't flinch.
Didn't even blink.
If anything, she looked delighted.
"Merlin, Weasley," she mused, her voice almost lazy. "I should make you yell more often."
Percy's ears burned. "That is—not—" He cut himself off, inhaling sharply. He sat back down, forcing himself to breathe.
He was not going to lose control.
Not over her.
He straightened, adjusting his robes. "Regardless," he said tightly, "if you continue to ignore protocol, I will be forced to report this to Professor McGonagall."
Lyra laughed.
Percy blinked.
It wasn't forced. It wasn't sarcastic. It was genuine.
When she finally stopped, she shook her head, tapping the lollipop against her lower lip.
"Oh, Weasley," she said, voice practically fond.
Then she leaned forward, voice dropping just slightly—
"If you think McGonagall doesn't already know exactly how I operate..." She smirked. "You really are adorable."
Percy just stared.
His thoughts were a mess.
And Lyra?
She winked.
And then, without another word, she popped the lollipop back in her mouth, stood up, and strolled out of his office—
His job was to ensure things ran smoothly, to uphold the rules, to prevent chaos from spreading like wildfire.
Which was precisely why he found himself utterly infuriated that, after just one meeting with Lyra, he had spent the rest of the evening unable to concentrate on anything.
He had tried to return to his schedule, to organize the latest incident reports, to complete his usual round of patrols—
But all he could think about was her.
The sheer audacity of her.
The mockery in her tone.
The infuriating way she smirked every time she got under his skin.
He had met plenty of difficult students in his time as Head Boy—Merlin knew he dealt with Fred and George daily—but never had he encountered someone who was so deliberately, unapologetically insufferable.
And what made it worse—what made it unbearable—was that she was doing it on purpose.
She wanted him to react.
She was enjoying this.
Percy refused to let her win.
So, he did what he always did.
He doubled down.