STREAKS OF SUNLIGHT BEAM through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the left wall of Lyra and her friends, bringing a sense of tranquility to the usually gloomy looking castle this time of year. In the distance you could see the mighty and intimidating Durmstrang ship resting in the gleaming water, and she is reminded of the schools Hogwarts is housing and the tournament - though she didn't truly forget, she's just not use to visitors in the castle.

"I swear, if I was of age, you bet your perky ass I'd enter the competition." Wren says as they walk to potions class after lunch. Neville furrows his eyebrows before checking his behind over his shoulder, eliciting a laugh from the dark-skinned girl.

Lyra grimaces."That's overly confident for the girl who has forgotten her wand in her dorm on more than one occasion."

"She's got a point." Neville nods before yelping in surprise as Wren pushes his shoulder.

"That has only happened twice!"

"Thirty- four times." Lyra smirks. "And counting."

"Okay miss counts-every-fucking -thing, as if you wouldn't fail at this tournament either!" Wren exclaims.

Lyra snorts unattractively and unapologetically. "Me? Fail at something? Wren, my darling, I think you hit your head last night because I never fail at anything."

"Another good point..." Neville mutters, jumping to the other side of the blonde to escape Wren's hands.

Call her arrogant because, at times, it's true. Lyra never has failed at anything, at least anything she can remember. She thanks the overbearing perfectionist in her that, although suffocates her with a noose in her most vulnerable moments, prevents her from being a disappointment. That is her biggest fear and Lyra makes sure it never becomes her reality by remaining the best even if she's at her worst. The last thing Lyra needs this academic year is break under pressure like she did last year.

That was the first and last time she ever breaks down like that. Lyra wishes she could wipe that memory from her mind.

Neville and, later, Wren have only seen her crumble with grief over her mother's death. She refuses to let them see how insane and weird she feels at times because Lyra hates that part of her. What if they hate it too? Lyra's friends mean a lot to her, and she knows neither Neville nor Wren are that shallow, but they can't know. No one can because Lyra can manage just fine by herself if she just keeps her head above the water. She'll be fine.

"Lyra?" Nevile places a hand on her shoulder. "Ly, you zoned out again." He smiles kindly. When will Lyra ever deserve Neville Longbottom?

"Oh, right." Lyra nods, fingertips itching to fiddle with her hair. She smiles slightly. "Thanks, Nev."

"Are you alright?"

"Of course." Lyra reassures him before noticing their friend's absence. "Where-"

"She forgot her wand, again." Neville sighs.

"Thirty-five." Lyra smirks smugly. She checks the time on her watch. "Come on, we can still make it in time for potions. Wren, not so much..."

Neville pales as Lyra links their arms and starts marching off to the dungeons.

"Oh, bloody hell."

They take their usual seats at the large table they share with Wren and Daphne Greengrass on the opposite side of it. Daphne smiles politely at the duo, and they return the sentiment. Daphne is a pleasant girl that Lyra has had a few short conversations with as she is Wren's potions partner and only friend in Slytherin. She has seen Daphne with Theodore and his group of friends and wonders how such a nice girl is friends with such a pain.

"Quit the chit chat this instant." Snape's drawl for a voice says loudly, entering his classroom with quick strides to stand by his desk in front. Everyone quiets down and Lyra sees Neville gulp from the corner off her eye. She reaches under the table to hold his hand, hoping to provide some sort of comfort to soothe his fear of the man.

Just as he begins to go down the register, calling name after name, Wren rushes into the room. "Miss Quinn." Snape glares at her.

"Professor-"

"Let me guess, forget your wand again?"

Lyra has to stifle her laugh to not draw attention to herself, but she sees Wren shoot her a quick look.

"You know me too well, sir." Wren says cheekily, earning a few chuckles from both houses.

"Get to your seat before I give you detention, Quinn." Wren scurries to their table. Snape swiftly finishes the task of register before placing the parchment down and looking at them. "Your results last year were humiliatingly poor, fourth years. And the reason so is clear as all of you are sitting next to friends and therefore don't pay attention in my class! Mr. Finnigan!"

Everyone snaps their heads in the direction of Seamus, at the back, looking to be caught mid conversation with Dean and Ron. The three boys quickly shift away from each other.

Snape sneers. "A good example of why I'm arranging the seating plan to my taste."

It takes a moment. Then the class erupts into loud complaints.

"No ways!"

"You're going to put us with snakes!"

"Gryffindors are idio-"

Snape throws his arm into the air and casts a word-less spell, causing dark clouds to form above them and thunder to crack. That shuts everyone up.

"Did I say it is optional? No." Snape snaps, the clouds dispersing so quickly, like it was never there. "Listen carefully, I am not repeating myself."

Lyra and Neville frown from beside each other and, like everyone else, are not pleased with the sudden change.

As rude as it is to even think, Lyra hopes her new partner is not, well...dumb, to put it bluntly. There is partner work in potions and Lyra cannot be the one doing all the work for their grade. That's what Lyra enjoyed about having Neville as her partner, he is smart and pulls his weight. And he allows her to be a bit bossy.

When Neville is paired with a student neither recognized, Lyra pats his hand, and they share a smile before parting. She sighs, seeing Wren no longer opposite her but now at a table in the front of the room, chatting to her new partner.

Oh, please, let it be someone she can get along with.

"Lovegood and Nott." Snape clears his throat.

No. Her karma can't be this bad. Can it?

Lyra blinks her a few times, confused because why would Snape pair his best students, who he knows are competing for top spot? Hopefully she heard incorrectly. She leans eagerly against the table and locks eyes with Daphne. "Did he just say Nott?"

Daphne doesn't get to respond because someone sits in the stool next to her, answering her question.

"Miss me, Smartass?" He stretches his arm out on the table, bending at the elbow, hand supporting his head as he smirks at her.

Merlin, give her strength.

"You have no idea just how much, Buttercup." Lyra chirps, sweet voice thick with sarcasm as she turns to him.

"Buttercup?" Theodore raises his eyebrows, face morphing to show his displeasure for the name.

"You call me Smartass, I call you Buttercup. We both hate the names, so it's even. It's the only way I will survive this partnership." Lyra sighs, taking out her potions book from her bag.

"What? No vulgar remarks? Threats?" He stares at her, confused.

"It won't change anything. Snape hates Gryffindors and he definitely won't make an exception because one of them might strangle her partner." She gives him a look, a promise that it will happen if he makes their new, unfortunate, situation any more of headache than she knows it will be.

"There she is." He rolls his eyes, sitting up straight and Lyra's head lifts as she follows the movement. Theodore stares at her with amusement and she blinks before looking away and pretending to read over the textbook index. (She knows it back to front)

The only good thing about being paired with her rival for the entire year, is that he's far from dumb and therefore is not a risk to her grades in partner work projects. She bets they can even do those separately. They will be desk partners and do projects when needed. That is it. She doesn't have to talk to him unless it's about potions. This doesn't have to be the big deal Lyra's dramatic self feels it is.

The rest of the lesson is a lecture that they had to take notes on, and Lyra focuses on getting every word down. Not the inches of space between their arms or the smell of his cologne.

Definitely not.