THE FROSTY WINTER BREEZE HITTING THE BACK OF HER NECK was a welcomed discomfort in the wake of her freshly trimmed hair; now a blunt line just under her ears. she felt better - freer - like a weight from her shoulders was finally lifted, if only a fraction of it. it was easier to look at herself in the mirror now & know it was her looking back & not the scared little girl willing to do whatever monstrosities were asked of her just to see her family alive & well.
she took another drag of her cigarette, watching the smoke float up into the air for a moment from where she sat one a lone bench just a few feet away from the daunting doors of the ministry of magic. shifting the hand stuffed into the pocket of her coat to look at her watch, she watched the hands move with a slow tic tic tic & a frown on her face. there was barely anyone out this early in the morning - hell she wasn’t even supposed to be here this early - but the malfoy heiress was struck by a very rare burst of anxiety, seeing as it was her first day on the job as an auror. normally she would burst through the doors with her head held high, confidence dripping off her like a waterfall & not a glance towards any witch or wizard hell bent on letting her former status as a death eater cloud their view of her.
but this was … different. she had her whole life planned out before the war. a cushy life behind the marbled walls of malfoy manor until she was married to whichever well-mannered pureblood boy her parents carefully picked out for her & being a housewife just as she was trained to be, then pushing out a heir for the family, & hopefully dying of old age.
for obvious reasons, lyra was no longer happy with that pretty little picture her parents hammered into her head since she was a child. hence, this newfound hesitance when faced with the new life she picked for herself. an auror ( not that they made it easy seeing as she was a death eater despite not baring the dark mark ) & an amazing one at that because a malfoy wasn’t allowed to be anything less than the best. but even with her self - assured attitude there was still a tremble in her hands at the thought that this was a mistake - one she wouldn’t be able to fix or bounce back from.
with a sigh she stubbed out her cigarette in the trash can near the bench, now stuffing both hands into her pocket & … waiting until it was finally time for her to begin her first day on the job.
harry’s appearance had grown shaggier since he left hogwarts... no one had ever called him careful in how he looked, with hair that only begrudgingly tolerated a comb, and a face that had swept itself into a harsh point, but there was something about him these days that looked particular untended to: nothing dirty, of course, just the vague fingerprints of lavender sleeplessness, his cheeks had turned sallow and puffed, a posture that had sunken into itself. HE LOOKED TIRED. and when he stared at the mirror, the boy that stared back seemed to be a phantom version of himself.
the future had only ever existed as a vague concept to harry, too big and too daunting to be anything but another fathomless dream... he wasn’t even sure he’d live long enough to get a future. death had been his burden to bear, his promised legacy [he was a child of the eater - of - death, the protected son being led towards a greater slaughter, where the world was laid barren if his life continued]. he had lived his life thinking only of the now, unable to comprehend a world where he lived. AND THEN HE LIVED. he had been granted a second chance at this life... a third, almost. his listlessness had landed him as an auror, the job opportunity practically thrown into his lap.
he found himself early on the day of his match - up, his first mission, the walls of the ministry of magic looking more daunting than before. wasn’t it supposed to be the opposite way around? that age would make everything around him far less terrifying? he glanced up at the building and wondered how anyone in the world could find comfort here. it was the type of place designed to make people a little uneasy, he was sure of that. wandering into distraction, he coughs when cigarette smoke attacks him. a haze of milk grey wafts itself into his face, his hand lifted to bat it all away. there’s a cough stuck in his throat, a glare warding his face against the stranger. the smoke parts and reveals a face, a little older than he last saw it, her hair shorter, but still as haughty as ever. lyra.
his eyebrows knit together at the sight of her, taken aback by her as if she were an intruder... ‘ lyra? ’ there’s a quick air of disbelief upon his tongue that he tries to clear away as quick as he can, but it lingers -- strawberry - fresh and tasting of rot itself. ‘ what the bloody hell are you doing here? ’
