Effervescence | h.p.

ii | vii. i don't like it

Opening her eyes and seeing a small lit candle, Lyra was confused. She definitely did not end her day here, so where was she?

Throwing her legs over the edge of what seemed to be a couch, she saw that the room was dark, very contrary to the hospital wing's bright interior, and it smelled unlike alcohol and sanitizers. It actually smelled more like a men's cologne with a mix of vanilla and coffee, reminding her vaguely of something, but she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

The twisting of a key in a keyhole made her frightfully look toward where the sound came from, which was a dark door that was located on her left side. Sitting up straighter and alert, she waited with baited breath for the door to swing on its hinges. When it did open, it revealed a silhouette — one Lyra knew all too well.

"Lyra Lupin-Black," it hissed out, agonizingly slow and cold.

"Where am I?" she asked, mustering all her Gryffindor courage she was supposed to be known for.

"Tsk, I would have thought you would recognize it," the figure proclaimed. "Pity."

"Leave." She tried to resist the inevitable shake in her voice, but she couldn't before she forced out, "Let me go." It sounded much more pitiful than she would have hoped.

Stepping forward and closer to her, the figure's face was illuminated as it questioned, "Which would you prefer?" Voldemort stood in front of her, inches away as he mocked her. "Would you rather I leave, or 'let you go'?" he mocked in a whiny voice before letting out a bone-chilling cackle.

"I would rather you leave my life completely," Lyra stated with bravery.

"Foolish girl," said Voldemort with a sad shake of the head. "Don't you know that I simply cannot have that?"

"What? You'd miss me too much?"

"I would miss the chase," he admitted before he sent a harsh blow of wind to the candle flame, successfully extinguishing it.

She screamed as she felt two hands grab her, thrashing around aimlessly.

"Lyra!" she heard a more comforting voice command right above her, making her slow her motions. "Lyra, you are safe! Stop!" it bellowed again when she still aimed to hurt whoever had their hold on her.

When someone else grabbed her hands to stop them from scratching, her eyes shot open wide. They quickly and fervently swept the room, surveying her surroundings like before. Only this time, some light was making its way through the small gaps in the curtains and clusters of candles were lit rather than a single flame burning.

When her eyes stopped quickly in front of her, she stared in terror at Severus Snape, who stared above her to the source of the two arms that came forward to grip her hands. Breathing heavily, she sat, wondering what had just happened. Until she saw small red scratches on the face of Severus, making her gasp.

"W-What did I . . . "

"Nightmare," said Snape, looking back at Lyra now.

She retracted her hands with another sharp intake of breath, holding them close to her in an effort to not hurt anyone else. She looked behind her to see Draco, who was looking at his own hands and the crescent shaped indents she had accidentally put there when he grabbed her to stop the flailing.

"I-I'm . . . I'm so sorry," she whispered into her lap, crying in fear and guilt of what she did.

"Do not apologize for that, Lyra," Severus said calmly. "You were fearful and you were unaware."

"I didn't mean to, I-I wouldn't," she claimed.

"We know," said Draco above her. "What happened?"

"If you are not comfortable, you do not have to say," Severus stated.