Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
The next day at breakfast, Percy tried his best to pretend that everything was normal. The familiar clatter of cutlery and the hum of chatter surrounded him, but all he could focus on was the incessant glitter that still clung to his robes. The more he scrubbed it, the more it seemed to multiply, as if mocking him.
He shoved a piece of toast into his mouth, barely noticing the taste. Fred and George were still at it, whispering jokes to each other as they exchanged sly glances.
"Don’t look now, Perce," Fred murmured, "but it seems Lyra’s made an appearance."
"Fantastic," Percy muttered, not even bothering to glance at the Slytherin table. He already knew what would greet him: Lyra, looking like she owned the entire room, with her usual smug grin plastered on her face.
"I thought you’d be pleased," George teased. "Maybe you can tell her how you’re feeling—still sparkling, I see."
"Yeah," Percy replied flatly, refusing to acknowledge them. "Real nice of her."
Just then, a sharp voice broke through their banter. "Well, well, if it isn’t the glittering Weasley."
Percy’s stomach dropped.
Not now..
Lyra stood in front of their table, her expression one of pure amusement as her gaze raked over his robes. She looked effortlessly perfect, as usual, in her Slytherin green and silver, her blonde hair gleaming like platinum. "I see you’ve really taken to the new look," Lyra said, her tone almost mocking, but there was a glint of something darker in her eyes. "Maybe you should wear it more often. I’m sure you’d get noticed."
"Go away, Malfoy," Percy growled, his cheeks flushing with a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. He couldn’t believe she was still making a joke out of it. She’d ruined his whole day yesterday, and now here she was again, as if nothing had happened.
"Make me," Lyra challenged, leaning in just a little too close, her voice low but sharp. "You’re hardly in a position to tell me what to do, Weasley."
Before Percy could respond, Fred cut in, clearly enjoying the drama. "Careful, Perce," he said in a singsong voice. "You might end up looking like a dazzling pair."
"Stop it," Percy hissed at his brother.
Oliver, who had been watching from a distance, stepped up beside them with a bemused smile. "Morning, Lyra," he said, nodding her way. "Nice of you to grace us with your presence. I’m sure you’ve got more of Weasley’s day to ruin."
Lyra turned to him, her smirk widening. "Oh, I haven’t even begun to ruin it. But trust me, Wood—there’s more where that came from."
Percy opened his mouth to retort, but Lyra didn’t give him the chance. She raised an eyebrow, clearly savoring the tension.
"See you around, Weasley," she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder with exaggerated grace. "And remember—sparkle."
Before he could stop himself, Percy felt the flush spread across his face, and he slammed his fist down onto the table. The laughter from Fred, George, and Oliver was like nails on a chalkboard.
As Lyra sauntered away, Percy wanted nothing more than to go back in time, to find a way to avoid this insufferable girl. Instead, he sat back down with a deep sigh, pulling at the collar of his robes in a futile attempt to get rid of the glitter.
"You know," Oliver said, grinning, "I think she’s enjoying this way too much."
Fred nodded. "Perce, I think it’s clear—this rivalry’s personal."
"Shut up," Percy muttered.