Harry thought about something Hermione told him a while ago – that Lyra is a serious person. When people hear something like that, especially when young people hear it, the idea they have in their mind is so incredibly contrary to her reality. By serious, they would mean boring, uptight, without a sense of humour, dry, and so many other things that make sense to them only because they define ‘serious’ as opposite of ‘fun’. However, ‘serious’ is also opposite of ‘superficial’, it’s the opposite of ‘casual’, of ‘temporary’, of ‘half-assed’, and many other things. People usually have a few serious moments in their lives, moments that matter – the important things they share with the person they love, like the first kiss, the first declaration of love, asking for your love’s hand in marriage, your wedding wows, first day at school, graduation, your parents being proud of you for your success, your children being born. First time you have sex with the person you love the most in the entire world. That’s the opposite of boring. That’s the essence of life condensed in a moment.
But that’s the way Lyra is serious. That’s why he thought of her as the scary girl. She’s the scary girl because every second of looking into her eyes is serious like the first kiss, your parent’s pride, your wife saying ‘yes’, your children being born, winning a war and saving your friend’s life. It’s that kind of serious, and it’s the whole aura around her. She doesn’t fuck around. She doesn’t play with words because she’s too cowardly to state her true feelings. If she thinks you have beautiful eyes, she will tell you, and it will feel like you graduated school with highest distinction, and your parents are proud of you. If she thinks you’re a mudblood subhuman, she will tell you, and it’s no wonder Hermione said that nothing ever hurt her like Lyra’s words. It feels like a perfect angel telling you that you’re worthless. He never experienced it from her, because she was always particularly careful and gentle with her words about him, but she did it to other people and it was incredibly hurtful.
She is serious the way Voldemort was serious, or the way Snape was serious. The way Dumbledore was serious when he talked about deeper, sublime laws of magic. Every word and nuance is frighteningly important. Except Lyra was nothing like Voldemort. When Lyra tells you something, it’s the highest truth she can formulate in her mind, and it really matters. If she tells you how she feels, you can feel her soul in the words. If she loves you, it’s with her entire heart and forever. If she hates you, you are as good as dead. And now, she’s in the Auror office taking her exams, because some people needed to die, and she wanted to make sure that happened.
He was exempt. They told him that hunting for Horcruxes, breaking into the Ministry and the Gringotts bank, and dismantling and killing Voldemort in front of everybody counts as passing the entrance exam with distinction, and he smiled and accepted the job. Lyra, however, had to do the formal part.
They also offered him, Hermione and Ron to skip the rest of the school, but Hermione was adamant – she wanted to do school properly because she would need it in her later work, and he agreed. Skipping school isn’t useful, especially if you’re an Auror. Ron was inclined to take the easy way as usual, but peer pressure dissuaded him. Lyra, of course, wanted to be where he is, so they attended the last year together, as a couple, and married after school.
Some things couldn’t wait, so they did the work for the Auror office during school, as consultants. Death Eaters were on the run and you need to strike that iron while it’s hot. He and Lyra already did political work on reconciliation of the society, but that doesn’t mean that the truly evil ones get to go deep undercover. Lyra had different ideas.
He thought again about the ‘serious’ thing. With her, it translated into things like her playing with his hand when they were 14 and talking about pureblood politics under a tree or in the hallways. It was a casual thing, but it was also a soul-level connection between them, something intimate and direct, like having your hand in a lie detector while you talk to her. If you would sweat, or tighten, or anything, she would feel it. He would feel her hand go slippery with sweat when he asked a hard question and her adrenaline spiked because answering it was hard in a deep way. It forced them to be honest, and it forced them to be gentle, because you don’t want to hurt the scary girl and feel her pain. Hurting her would feel terrible, because of how honest, straightforward and gentle she was. So, this physical intimacy forced them to maintain such an incredible standard of kindness and honesty with each other, that most people wouldn’t be able to emotionally bear it. Honesty without a filter. Often about their most personal, intimate feelings, like his vague memories of his mother and father, and her memories of her parents. They would talk about what their love for their parents felt like. She would talk about how her father would read to her when she was little. How her mother taught her. The magical, most private moments of childhood. He would talk about how he missed his parents, how he loved Sirius and Lupin, how he learned the hard spells. How he hoped his parents would be proud of him. It was that kind of serious – the opposite of ‘superficial’, ‘perfunctory’, ‘unimportant’. They talked about the most important stuff in their lives, stuff that mattered, stuff that decided fate, while they physically touched, to keep each other honest and gentle.
And when they stopped touching, when they stopped talking, within two years they went to Crucio and Sectumsempra. It’s so easy to hate and kill the enemy when you’re not touching her, looking into her eyes and feeling her hand tighten when you hurt her, and you instantly feel so bad about it you want to make it better. It’s so easy to hate the enemy when she’s not a person. Especially when you’re not acutely aware of how beautiful, pure and perfect that person is. If you’re not feeling her exact emotions in that exact moment, right now. He almost killed the scary girl before understanding that she’s everything to him. Nothing, nobody, was that important, and that serious.
Ah, they seem to be done. The examiners accompanying her back to him looked pale and shaken. “She received the highest grades in the history of the test”, the elderly gentleman stated in disbelief. “Her magical ability is… off the charts. Without precedent, and I’ve seen Dumbledore and Voldemort do magic. I don’t even know how she does it, and how it’s possible. She doesn’t even use spells, she accesses the magical tissue of the deeper world”, he gestured in dismay.
“I had to place wards and practice offensive and defensive magic every single day for three years while living in a Death Eater den that happened to be my ancestral home, your honour”, she smiled and bowed kindly. “People usually practice for their ego, because they want to be the best wizard, because they wanted power and acclaim. I did it because I didn’t want to have my liver eaten by Fenrir Greyback while still alive, trembling in mortal agony on the cold floor of my bathroom when I went to pee in the middle of the night, begging for death to come quickly. Let’s just say I was supremely motivated”.
They all shivered from the sheer horror of that statement, because, as always, she said it like it was. She said it in the way that made them feel what it was like, like it was them. That’s what ‘serious’ meant. She wielded reality itself with her very existence and every moment was sacred. She was an Auror now. Some people are going to learn what it’s like when the roles reverse, between hunters and prey. He smiled, feeling fierce pride in his heart that this serious, frightening, wonderful person was his wife. Also, that they are co-workers now.