Perfidy | Tom Riddle |

41.

She could feel the dark magic surrounding the void. She felt it grasp her skin and try to force itself in. Lyra looked to see Tom placed far in front of her as the two stood alone in an empty pit. Throughout the entire room it felt as though they were trapped in a black hole. It felt so cold, it felt so dark.

She cried, "Tom!" but her feet were stuck to the ground as if they had become a part of it. Lyra bitterly cursed and shouted desperately trying to reach for him.

She marked a murky ominous cloud engulfed him whole, surrounded by a dazzling green shaft of light without him being able to resist. "STOP IT." she screeched while still struggling to step forward. Without knowing what had forcibly dragged him into darkness, she frantically glanced around.

This isn't real. It can't be real.

Her knees barely holding up, Lyra continued to scream in agony after Tom. Until a presence of a strong grip pulled at her chin jerking her head up.

Draco.

"Are you falling in love with him?" he venomously spat out while she began to sob. Discouraged by her presence, he pushed her away not wanting to see her face.

With the overwhelming fear of not knowing where she or Tom was, she couldn't stand the idea of him being hurt or tortured right now. As her anxious gaze remained fixed on the floor, she heard faint footsteps and slowly peered to her right to catch a glimpse of him.

Neville.

Sighing in short-lived relief, knowing that Neville would help her, that he'll understand her. "Nevi- '' her sentence was cut off by him climbing on top of her and wrapping both hands around her neck.

"How could you Lyra? You know and yet you're still blinded. You're selfish as you've always been. You killed us. You killed us all."Selfish.

Neville had never hurt her, not once did he put his hands on her. This was different. He stared at her with wicked eyes filled with nothing but a vitriolic view of violent hatred.

Draco had crouched down beside her and taunted Lyra "It was a mistake to have sent you. You were a mistake. Even mummy and daddy thought so. And now you'll always remember your selfishness. Remember that they died because of you."

A mistake.

Selfish.

Lyra woke up screaming covered in cold sweat for the third time this week. She reached for her sore throat still feeling Neville's hands bound round them, squeezing the life out of her. Tom, who was awake, immediately pulled her in, holding her close to his chest, "It was a nightmare Lyra," he stated, gently rocking her back and forth, "I'm here it's alright darling."

She was hysterical, terribly shaking, and mumbling apologies unknown to who. As always, he pulled out a sleeping draft and placed it between Lyra's lips. "You have to," Tom whispered lightly as she gently pushed him away.

"I'll dream about it again."

"And I'll be here to hold you," he promised. Carefully he held up the vile between them and arched a warning brow at Lyra, "I mean it, drink it."

She narrowed her eyes for a moment exhaling in an attempt to calm herself down. When she uncovered her eyes, Lyra leaned forward and grabbed the vile from his hands. In one swift motion, she downed the potion and handed back the glass vile to him. The effects of the potion were too strong, presumably because Tom had brewed it. Within moments, Lyra's head touched the pillow, and she instantly fell asleep with Tom holding her close to him.

There was something wrong with her, he justly thought. Something that severely hurts her and he can't figure out how to help her.

He made her experience every emotion at once, he noticed how her happiness could be marked with visible sadness that she so horribly hid, he tended to notice every memory they create seemed to pain her more and more.