Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Percy was spiraling.
Not that anyone else would notice.
To the untrained eye, he was as composed as ever—shoulders squared, robes perfectly pressed, his Prefect badge gleaming under the Great Hall's enchanted lights.
But internally?
He was seething.
It had been four days since the Prefect meeting.
Four days since That Malfoy had waltzed in late, insulted his system, and then walked out like she owned the place.
And worst of all?
She was getting away with it.
That was the part Percy couldn't stomach.
Because after everything, after all the blatant disregard for rules, the mockery of his authority, the complete absence of proper documentation—McGonagall still hadn't reprimanded her.
In fact, if anything, Lyra had only gotten bolder.
He saw her in the halls, leaning against walls in that insufferable way, never looking rushed or concerned. He saw her in the common areas, laughing with Slytherins, never carrying so much as a single piece of parchment.
She didn't even pretend to care about paperwork.
And yet, the castle was running smoothly.
Too smoothly.
No chaos. No major incidents. No large-scale disasters.
Which meant—somehow—she was still doing her job.
Which infuriated him.
So, Percy decided that if no one else was going to hold her accountable—he would.
--
It started small.
He doubled his efforts on patrol, making sure he was always watching for any sign of misconduct.
For any hint that Lyra was not as competent as she pretended to be.
At first, it didn't yield much.
Lyra was aggravating, but she wasn't reckless.
She never left obvious evidence. Never caused outright trouble.
Which only meant Percy had to try harder.
And then, one evening, he found his chance.
It was just after curfew when Percy spotted them.
Two fourth-year Ravenclaws, giggling as they hurried down a side corridor, whispering in hushed voices.
Percy adjusted his glasses, preparing to intercept—
But then, a shadow moved.
Lyra.
She stepped into their path, cutting them off before they even saw her.
Percy pulled back into the darkness, watching.
"Tell me," Lyra drawled, crossing her arms, "are you two trying to get caught, or are you just incredibly stupid?"
The Ravenclaws flinched.
Lyra arched a brow.
"Well?"
The taller of the two stammered, "We—we weren't—"
Lyra sighed, already bored. "Spare me. Just go back to your common room before I decide to actually care enough to write you up."
The two Ravenclaws hesitated for half a second before scrambling away.
Percy stared.
No report. No formal disciplinary action.
Just a verbal warning.
He should have stepped in. Should have reprimanded her for ignoring protocol.
But he didn't.
Because the truth—the horrible, infuriating truth—was that it had worked.
Again.
She had caught them before he did.
She had stopped them before they broke any real rules.
And she hadn't needed paperwork to do it.
Percy clenched his jaw.
She was winning.
And he refused to let her.
--
The next morning, Percy was at breakfast early
Lyra wasn't.
Of course, she wasn't.
She never rushed for anything.
When she did finally arrive, she strolled in like she hadn't just broken at least three rules the night before.
Percy waited.
He gave her precisely sixty seconds to get comfortable before storming over to the Slytherin table, ignoring the curious stares from the students around them and her younger brother Draco Malfoy beside her.
"Malfoy."
She didn't even flinch.
Instead, she took a slow sip of her tea.
Then, finally—finally—she deigned to glance up at him.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite stalker."
Percy bristled before he could open his mouth to confront Lyra. Draco cut him off with an amuse look as he bit into his toast.
"Merlin, Weasley," Draco drawled, swallowing his bite, "you really can't stay away from my sister, can you?"
Percy froze.
His eye twitched. "Excuse me?"
Draco smirked, leaning back in his seat. "It's just so fascinating," he mused, glancing at Lyra. "He's been here every morning this week, hasn't he?"
Lyra, sipping her tea, barely interested. "Mmm."
Draco turned back to Percy, grinning. "You know, Weasley, if you wanted to join our table so badly, you could've just asked."
Percy's fist clenched around his clipboard.
"Malfoy," he said icily, "I'm here because your sister has once again failed to follow Prefect protocol."
Draco blinked, then looked at Lyra with mock concern. "Oh, dear. Sister, you're making the poor Weasel nervous."
Lyra exhaled tiredly, finally setting down her cup. "Draco."
Draco turned back to Percy, clearly delighted. "You should've seen him at the Prefect meeting," he continued. "I heard about it, of course. Apparently, he practically burst a blood vessel."
Percy's nostrils flared. "I—"
"Oh, and then last night?" Draco laughed. "Catching you watching her?" He shook his head. "Tragic. You're obsessed."
Percy sputtered. "I am not—"
Lyra sighed, finally cutting in. "Draco."
Draco hummed innocently. "Yes, dearest sister?"
Lyra gave him a look—one Percy couldn't quite decipher.
Then, without looking at Percy, she said, "You're being excessive."
Draco blinked, clearly surprised.
Then, he scowled. "Oh, so it's fine when you insult him, but not when I do it?"
Lyra sipped her tea. "Correct."
Draco muttered something about "hypocrisy" and stabbed at his eggs with a fork, sulking.
Percy, for his part, was still trying to process the interaction.
Because if he had insulted Draco, Lyra would have mocked him for it.
But Draco did it?
And she shut him down?
Why?
He didn't have time to think about it.
Because Lyra finally turned her attention back to him, exhaling like he was the real inconvenience here.
"Weasley," she said smoothly. "Did you actually need something, or were you just here to have a staring contest with my brother?"
Percy scowled.
He did have a reason for coming over.
He refused to let her distract him.
"You ignored protocol again last night," he said sharply. "That Ravenclaw incident should have been reported."
Lyra sighed. "Oh, not this again—"
"Yes, this again," Percy snapped. "Because rules exist for a reason—"
"So do shortcuts," she countered, not even blinking.
Percy's pulse spiked. "That's not—"
"I handled it," she said simply.
"That's not how this works," Percy snapped.
"That's how I work."
Percy clenched his jaw. "You do not get to decide that."
Lyra arched a brow. "And yet, here we are."
Percy inhaled sharply. She was impossible.
Draco, still watching with open amusement, leaned toward his sister. "You should really let him win once, Lyra."
Lyra exhaled tiredly. "Draco, leave."
Draco blinked. "What?"
"Leave," she repeated, not even looking at him. "Go sit somewhere else."
Draco gawked at her. "Are you actually kicking me out of my own table?"
"Yes."
Draco scoffed, muttering under his breath as he grabbed his plate and stood.
But before he left, he paused, turning back to Percy with a smirk.
"Oh, and Weasley?" Draco grinned. "You look awfully stressed these days."
Percy scowled. "That's because I have to deal with both of you."
Draco laughed and sauntered off, leaving Percy alone with Lyra once more.
Percy turned back to her, glaring. "Your brother is insufferable."
"Your brothers are menaces"
She said it so simply, so casually, as if she was talking about the weather instead of insulting his entire family.
Percy's blood boiled. "They are not menaces."
Lyra raised an eyebrow, setting her teacup down with a small clink. "You might want to rethink that."
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Percy snapped, not even trying to hide his irritation anymore. "Fred and George—yes, they're... eccentric. But they aren't menaces. They're not causing problems. They're—"
"Chaos."
Percy stiffened. "What?"
Lyra's gaze finally shifted to meet his, her expression cool and calculating. "They create chaos. They don't follow the rules. They bend every system to their will, and you're too proud to admit it. You've been cleaning up after them for years, haven't you?"
Percy's throat tightened.
It was like she could see everything he worked so hard to keep under control.
He had always handled Fred and George. Always. But...
Had he really been cleaning up after them all this time?
"Maybe if you actually did your job, you'd realize that I don't need you to tell me how to handle my brothers," Percy bit out, trying to regain some semblance of control. "I've managed them fine for years, thank you."
Lyra's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Of course you have, Weasley. But it's exhausting, isn't it? Dealing with the messes they create every day, pretending they're just harmless fun?"
The words hit too close to home.
Percy's breath caught. "They're not harmless—"
"Exactly," Lyra interjected smoothly. "And yet you keep pretending they are. You keep putting out the fires they start, while you pretend that you are in control."
Her words were like a sharp pinprick, digging into his armor. The truth of them, whether he liked it or not, stung.
"Shut up," Percy muttered, not sure if it was more to her or to himself.
Lyra ignored him, leaning back in her chair as if she had all the time in the world. "You know, I'm surprised at you, Weasley."
Percy stared at her, his pulse quickening. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She let the silence hang for a moment before she answered, her voice soft, almost lazy. "You're so eager to lecture me about rules, and yet you don't see that you've been stuck cleaning up after your brothers your whole life. You're just as disorganized as they are."
Percy's eyes narrowed. "I'm nothing like them."
Lyra just sipped her tea, her eyebrow raised “If that’s what helps you sleep at night, Weasley”