Effervescence | h.p.

ii | ii. the burrow

In the turquoise flying car, Lyra actually slept quite well. She had initially intended to tell Ron more about her not receiving anything from anyone over the course of the summer, but even in the blinding darkness of the night, Ron could see the lack of sleep the girl had gotten.

"Ly, I really think you should sleep," he said.

"I'm fine," she responded.

Truth be told, she knew she needed sleep — desperately — but she was scared of going to sleep, especially when she didn't have anyone to cling to that would show that her nightmares were in her head only. She had no one to keep her grounded as she wrapped herself around them like she would do to her dads, Milo, and Harry.

"Lyra, as your friend and, basically, your brother, I'm telling you that you need to go to sleep," Ron said in a demanding tone that seemed so foreign coming from him.

"But I can't," said Lyra nearly inaudibly.

"Why not?" Ron responded just as softly.

"I'm scared," she admitted in a whisper as tears collected in her sunken eyes.

"Of what, Ly? You shouldn't be scared."

"It's stupid," she said, rubbing the sleep and tears from her eyes desperately before turning to face the window, observing the moving countryside.

"Lyra, what's going on?" said Ron desperately.

He was worried for his new, second sister. She was obviously having trouble sleeping and he knew that while she was at Hogwarts, she was also struggling to sleep without Harry present. So what was wrong now? She always needed someone that reminded her of her home and her family that had come before Hogwarts but she had just been at the place she desperately clung to during the year for comfort.

"Nightmares," she whispered, ashamed almost.

"Are they always the same?" Ron asked after a few moments of silence between the pair.

"Almost always," said Lyra. "They always end with a bright green light hitting me head-on."

"Ly . . . " Ron said sadly, once again, the tone seeming foreign coming from his mouth. He reached over in his seat and wrapped his arms around his shorter friend, "I'm so sorry, Ly."

Lyra turned and hugged her near-brother back, putting her head in the crook of his neck to gain the grounded feel she would experience with her dads or Harry and sometimes Dean. She stared out the window that sat behind Ron as she just sat in him arms. They were so warm, almost like a blanket. And he smelled of cinnamon, vanilla, and a hint of orange — he smelled like a warm, fall drink, which brought Lyra unimaginable comfort. She felt her eyelids drooping more every time she blinked, the opening of her eyelids became more of a chore than just keeping them closed . . .

"Ten minutes!" Fred announced to the car's riders, unknowingly waking the sleeping girl in the backseat.

"'Morning," said George, grinning while he was looking into the backseat at Lyra moving away from Ron as she rubbed her eyes.

"What time is it?" Lyra asked softly.

"I'd wager it's round six," said Fred, squinting at the sun calculatingly as he drove the car toward the light.

A faint pinkish glow was visible along the horizon to the east.

"We're a little way outside the village," said George. "Ottery St. Catchpole."

Fred brought the car lower, the edge of a brilliant red sun gleaming through the patches and clumps of trees and fields.

"Touchdown!" said Fred as, with a slight bump, they landed on the ground. They landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Lyra looked at Ron's house for the first time.