Effervescence | h.p.

i | xxxiii. troll in the dungeons

Lyra followed Hermione to the girls' bathroom after she had rushed past Ron and Harry. She was going to console the crying girl as best as she could and was going to bring her comfort — no matter how long it took.

"Hermione," Lyra gently spoke as she entered the bathroom. "Are you in here?"

"Go away, Lyra. Please," came a strained response, followed by a sniffle.

"Hermione, you know Ron was just being stupid, right? He's jealous after you tried to help him, I'm almost positive."

"All I was doing was helping," Hermione stated, but it sounded as though she were trying to convince Lyra that, that's what she had been doing.

"I know, I know," Lyra said, "but Ronald is too thick-headed to see it that way. I think he thought you were trying to show-off and embarrass him."

After some silence, Hermione asked with desperation, "What are you even doing here, Lyra? You should be in class, not trying to talk to a know-it-all. You're going to miss part of Potions. That's your favorite class, you need to go."

"But I'm helping my friend," said Lyra with a shrug as she carefully sat on the sink across from Hermione's stall, keeping her eyes downcast.

"I know you're saying that just to make me feel better. You heard Ron — I don't have any friends," the girl in the stall said sadly. "No one likes someone who corrects them all the time."

"You don't correct people all the time, and you do have friends."

"Lyra just . . . please, go away."

"I would, but," Lyra drew out her words before stating sharply, "you are more important at the moment. If you aren't leaving, then I guess I am not leaving."

"But why would you stay here for me?" Hermione asked as she opened the stall door. Her eyes were red and puffy from her crying and she was constantly sniffling.

"Oh, honey," whispered Lyra with sad eyes. "'Mione, I stayed for you and will continue to stay for you because you are my friend — no matter what Ron said. I have been your friend since I met you in our dorm the first night."

"But why?" she questioned. "Why would you — a popular, pretty, nice girl — be friends with me?"

"Because you are also a pretty, nice girl," Ly tried convincing Hermione. "And, not to mention how incredible you are at magic, how hardworking you are, and how tremendously smart you are."

Hermione just ran forward, engulfing Lyra in a tight hug before she whispered, "Thank you" into the smaller girl's neck. She pulled away and wiped away some rogue tears. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. Thank you."

"Of course, 'Mione. You're my friend, I'm here to say nice things about you. Shoot, I even told Dean that you were going to do the spell in Charms perfectly before you even performed it."

"Really?"

"Really. You can even ask him, if you'd like."

"I want to tell you something," Hermione said suddenly as she looked down. "That's what friends do, right? They tell each other things?"

"Yeah, you can tell me anything. Then, I'll even tell you something."

Hermione took a deep inhale, then let it out slowly before quietly saying, "I try to perfect everything because I'm worried about not being good enough."

"What do you mean?" Lyra urged, wanting to understand as best as possible.

"I mean, I'm a Muggle-born. I feel like I don't deserve to be here. I don't know where my magic came from and people here grew-up surrounded by magic. I don't want to be the only one who doesn't know something," she admitted.