Black Hole

"Mama Said, Mama Said...That's the Way it's Gonna Stay"

 The sun was setting.

Lyra-Jade sat on the porch, looking out at the Potter's land, a forgotten book on her lap and her ninth cigarette of the day in her hand, basking in solitude.

Sirius hadn't left his sisters side once during the past few days of her stay at the Potters. If she wanted to go outside, he followed her. If she wanted to sit by the fire, he sat right next to her. If she wanted to sleep, he lay right beside her. It was as though he thought she would break into a million small pieces if no one was watching her. James wasn't much better. He tried, and failed, to insist on carrying her all around the house, as though she wasn't capable of walking, which she very well was, thank you very much.

As she sat outside in the brisk cold, she tried to only see the words on the pages of the novel, she tried to only hear the wind blowing in the trees, tried to only taste the ashy, sweet tobacco. But she saw the bright lights and her Mother's dirty scowl, she heard the angry shouts and her baby brother's cries, tasted the metallic blood in her mouth.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart. Behind her eyes, the images didn't cease. Open or closed, she saw the events of only a few nights before constantly play out.

"You weak girl!"

Weak weak weak weak-

"Want some tea, dear?"

The voice startled her, making her eyes fly open and her body jump.

Euphemia's concerned face frowned down at her. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry to scare you, dear." 

Lyra-Jade shrugged.

"Some tea?" The old witch held out a mug with a hopeful grin that matched James'. 

Lyra-Jade shook her head.

Euphemia frowned. "Alright then, mind if I sit?"

She shrugged.

Euphemia sat on the other side of the swinging bench. Close, but not touching.

They were silent for quite a while, every so often Euphemia commenting on the cold weather or asking if Lyra-Jade is she was sure she didn't want any tea.

Euphemia looked down at the slumped form of the young witch, opened her mouth, closed it, looked away, looked back at her, then hesitantly spoke. "How are you feeling today, dear? You look quite cold. Shall I get you a blanket? Or perhaps I could cast a warmth charm. Or we could go inside? James and Sirius are sitting by the fire. Are you sure you wouldn't like any hot tea, my dear? I-"

"Stop calling me that!" Lyra-Jade suddenly exploded, shifting as far away from Euphemia as she could and bringing her knees to her chest.

The older witch blinked. "Oh. Oh, I'm sorry."

After a moment, Lyra-Jade scoffed at the air and got up from the bench, leaving the bewildered other witch behind to stalk her way up to the guest room she resided in.

The next few days leading up to the end of holiday were not the best days of her life, Lyra-Jade concluded.

Remus had once again visited her, as did Peter. But, frankly, their presence only annoyed her. The way they pitied and babied her made her skin crawl. All four boys had come to her room to see her, smiles on their faces until she snapped at them that she wanted to be alone.

Even with Sirius lying next to her, she didn't feel comfort or at ease in those last few days. She was irritated. She was in pain. She couldn't think properly. Her bloody back hurt, no matter how much salve Euphemia insisted layering on her marks. She had a constant headache, no matter how many tonics Euphemia forced down her throat. Her stomach rumbled, but every time she attempted to eat, she threw it right up.