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I was sixteen, and my father told me that I was constantly looking for trouble. So when I got the shiny red prefect badge, and my older brother Scorpius, didn’t get anything, we were all dumbstruck.

“This can’t be possible.” Mum had said.

“Astoria dear,” Dad didn’t continue. He shook his head and stared blankly at the red badge.

“This is outrageous! That was supposed to be my badge! But…in yellow.”

“Why are you yelling at me?” I had asked. “I thought you were supposed to be Hufflepuff. Yelling at your poor little sister isn’t very kind.”

“You don’t have to be kind. You just have to want to be.”

Anyways, that’s what happened on the morning we got our Hogwarts owls. But that leads me to realize, I haven’t actually introduced myself yet.

Hello! Hi. Greetings from Malfoy Manor.

My name is Lyra Saige Malfoy. Lyra, like the stringed instrument constellation (following the tradition of constellated naming of the family, starting with Dad.), Saige like… I’m not actually sure. Malfoy, of the Malfoy family and our terrifying last name (my brother’s in Hufflepuff, clearly we don’t bite). Contrary to vicious gossip, we’re actually a pile of fluffy, cheesy, bowl of mush family. We have muggle movie nights for crying out loud!

So, I’m in Gryffindor. Which, according to popular belief might of meant I’d be disowned. Nah. My Dad told me he just cared about my happiness and education. That’s the new and improved Draco Malfoy for yah.

I guess that leads us to now, so let’s get started.

August 19th 2024

“I’m still mad at you.” Scorpius says, coming into the kitchen. So, we got our letters four days ago, and he’s still pissed. Jeez, he’s always been stubborn.

“You have a letter from Albus.” I say, bored, taking a sip from my coffee. I frown as I reach for said letter. I barely have it in my hand before Scorpius runs over and snatches it.

“Really?! When did it come?!” He asked before grabbing it.

I sit completely befuddled, and answer him. “Ah, ah. Came not long ago.” I answer, as he rips the letter open with the force you’d expect to see someone lifting a grand dining hall table by themselves.

Scorpius eyes dart across his letter for half a second before he goes “awwww.”

Scorpius and Albus have been dating since their fifth year, and honestly if I had to describe it in one word I would say: Disgusting.

I’d like to describe it in more depth then a word however (even though the subject makes me shudder) so I’ll give you a paragraph. Read it very quickly, and imagine me talking fast.

In their fifth year they went on the first Hogsmede trip of the year (the Hogsmede trip of doom, as I call it) and some stuff happened that hasn’t fully been disclosed yet (Dad tried to convince Minister Shaklebolt to make Veritaserum legal), and then all of a sudden you couldn’t get them off each other. Like literally, you couldn’t get them off each other. It’s like someone put a sticking charm on them. And someone had. My repulsive brother. Ick. Anyway, poor Madame Pomfrey spent the whole day forcing tonics down those idiots throats because my brother had done a variation of the spell so a counter curse couldn’t counteract it. And since they were partners in every single class that year, they were always together. And it didn’t even end during the Holidays. Albus practically lived at Malfoy Manor. And I was disgusted with my parents for letting them sleep in the same room (they knew they were dating of course) and I swear weird sounds were coming from that room, and they seemed not to notice. Now I’m thinking of all the times I had to stuff socks in my ears. And in the mornings they would snog at breakfast and all the other absolutely horrendous things couples can do. The whole ‘I love you.’ ‘I love you more’ ‘No I love you more’ thing, exists. Trust me, I’ve seen it. It was like Victoire and Teddy all over again. So now Albus comes every summer for at least a week. (More on this later)

Okay, more than a paragraph. Sorry. And huge block text. Bloody hell.

“I love him.” Scorpius says dreamily, standing next to a window across the room from where he originally was (how the hell did he get over there?!)

“Scorpius.” I say.

“Yeah?” He answers.

“Don’t be gross.” I say bluntly.

He rolls his eyes and turns back to his letter. “He got head boy.” Scorpius says cheerily, suddenly happier now that his boyfriend has a prefect roll.

“Yippee for him.” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes for emphasis. I hope I get head girl next year, just so I can rub it in Scorpius’ face.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He says viciously. “You wouldn’t be able to get head girl if Albus Dumbledore himself rose from the grave and threatened to blow up Hogwarts if you didn’t get head girl.”

“That sorting hat has lost its mind.” I say to myself, shaking my head.

“I heard that!” Scorpius barks.

“Whatever. You’re not going to do anything to your precious sister.”

“We’ll see how precious you are after you’ve been pitched off the astronomy tower!”

“Bite me!” I challenge.

“Children. Lyra, Scorpius. Calm yourselves or both of you will be confined indoors for the rest of the summer.” Dad says, in his ‘course of action’ voice.

“But she started it!” Scorpius pouts, looking at me with his finger pointed like a five year old.

Dad rolls his eyes, and motions for him to put his arm down and stop pouting. Honestly, I don’t know how the man does it, but there is no humanly possible way to avoid his course of action.

“Both of you need to stop fighting.”

“Yeah, when muggles fly.” I say.

“Muggles do fly.” Dad points out.

“Muggleborns! Not actual muggles with no talent.” I say.

“Hey, don’t be mean to the muggles.” Scorpius says.

“Oh, so your Hufflepuff with muggles, but not with your own sister? Wow, Scorpius.”

“Would both of you just stop?!” Dad shouts at us (in a nice way, don’t worry!)

“She’s clinically insane!”

“He’s a wanker!”

“You’re a sod!”

“You’re a ponce!”

“I’m perfectly happy with that. My boyfriend is very happy with it too!”

“Heel wearer!”

“Boy chaser!”

“Both of you shut-up this instant!” Dad roars (again, in an overly nice way)

I roll my eyes and leave the kitchen, taking my breakfast with me.

“Don’t spill on your new pyjamas!” Dad calls after me.

“I won’t.” I call back, then head upstairs to my room.

I love that room. Other then when Albus comes over (because no amount of soundproofing, muffling spells, and throwing myself out a window can cover the awful sound of sex noises), it’s the only place I can get some piece and quiet.

It’s a pretty lilac colour, and has the most windows in the house. Fairy lights adorn the modern wood frame of my bed, and everything is neat and orderly. Of course it’s big, I tried to get the smallest room in the house, but this was it. It’s quite huge. But sometimes it comes in handy. I can do almost anything I want, and even have my own floo network fireplace.

Look, I know I seem like the clichéd popular girl, with a rich family, and tons of friends, trust me: I’m not.

Scorpius is the popular one. His boyfriend is Albus Potter, his best friends include quite a few famous people, and Potter’s siblings. James and Lily Potter. Of course James isn’t at Hoggy anymore, and Lily and I are acquaintances (we share a dorm for christ sake!), but he’s actually F-R-I-E-N-D-S with them.

My only friends: A muggleborn boy named Benedict Arringer, and a pureblood girl named Aubrey Parkinson (not at all pretentious, I know).

A brief introduction to Benedict Arringer.

We call him Ben, because he absolutely hates his first name (his parents named him after some old muggle guy who used to be a really famous film actor).

So, Ben is clinically insane. The boys a categorized neat freak, and I’m pretty sure he has OCAED; Obsessive Compulsive About Everything Disorder.

Of course he doesn’t actually have OCD, he’s quite normal actually. But, he’s nuts.

Just kidding :)

Anyways, Ben is a Ravenclaw, and he uses ginormous words that I’ve never even heard of.

He’s got black dishevelled hair, and bright blue eyes. His hair is dyed. He hasn’t mastered the art of green contact lenses yet though. He has this obsession with Harry, and he follows Albus around. It’s scary.

Again, just kidding. I can make jokes. It’s only because I’m in denial about my horrible jealousy for his absolutely fabulous locks. No they’re not dyed.

And, an introduction to Aubrey Parkinson.

Aubrey is absolutely beautiful. If she wasn’t the loudest student ever, she might actually be popular.

Yes, yes I know: Her last name is very familiar to you.

Yes, she’s the daughter of Pansy Parkinson.

I don’t know how Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini managed a perfectly Hufflepuff offspring. She’s the nicest girl I’ve ever met, and I’ve met Alice Longbottom!

She loves music, and has blonde hair and tanned skin. (I don’t know, okay? How do you get a blonde caucasian child, with two dark haired, and one dark skinned parent? No idea!)

She’s not adopted though, because same as her father she lacks subtlety.

Don’t ask Aubrey Blaise Parkinson these next questions…

i. Am I fat?

ii. Will I ever get a boyfriend/girlfriend/personfriend

iii. Am I smart?

iv. Am I pretty?

v. Is this a bad idea?

vi. Is this a good idea?

vii. Am I annoying?

viii. Am I boring?

ix. Am I asking too many questions?

Or pretty much anything else. She will give you the most blunt or sarcastic answer she can find.

Back to my comically horrible life.

Random fact i: I don’t have a boyfriend.

Yuck. Romance. Please, I’ve seen how Scorpius and Albus are with each other, and if that’s the social norm of relationships then I’ll cast Avada Kedavra in my mouth before saying ‘I’ll go out with you.’

The doorbell starts ringing, and I roll my eyes.

“I will get it!” I yell, to no one in particular.

“No! It’s for me, don’t answer it!” Scorpius yells back.

I run down the stairs, desperate to win at least one unspoken competition, with only one thought in mind:

Couples are gross.

“Albie!” Scorpius cries, throwing open the door and launching himself at Albus, before proceeding to make out with him, but it looks more like they’re licking each other like dogs.

I didn’t plan that backing up to my thought, but there you go.

“Am I the only one seeing this?! Dad?” I cry. Dad lifts his book, and the bloody thing is upside-down.

“Mum?” She does the same with her copy of Witch Weekly.


I’m doomed.

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