This is Part 2 of my fanfiction series! Make sure you read Part 1 first! If you're lazy, I'll include a summary of the key points at the beginning of this story so, technically, you can jump right in.
Seventh year. Eighteen years old. Once a dream c...
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Elara's POV
I open my eyes. The world around me is bright, much too bright, and unbearably loud. Every sound that reaches my ears threatens to burst my head open and someone in my brain is hammering incessantly against my skull. In an instant, I wish for a state of unconsciousness... I just want to sleep.
'Elara...'
A voice penetrates my thoughts, unintentionally, like a sharp knife. Merlin, every word, every noise, everything hurts so much.
It is a male voice; a gentle one. On the one hand it hurts, on the other hand it is soft like butter and rolls through my body like sweet honey. I can hardly see anything but a black shadow in front of my eyes as they adjust to the surroundings. 'Sebastian?'
The person hesitates. Then he clears his throat carefully. 'N-no, Elara. It's me. Andrew.'
It takes me a while to figure out where I know an Andrew from. And how it is that he is here. And why it is that it is not Sebastian. I was just with him on the couch in the common room. He gave me his mother's ring. We were... intimate. I should have woken up in his arms, shouldn't I?
The room is gradually coming into focus around me. Sunlight is streaming in from a window, making the parquet floor shine. The walls are panelled in wood, trees sway outside the window. It smells... clean. I can't describe it any other way.
Gradually, the person next to me comes into focus. Andrew's blond hair is suffused with sunlight and shimmers like yellow gold. His brown eyes smile at me kindly. He is wearing a sweater, a tie underneath, and is holding my ice-cold hand.
'Where am I?' I ask, not elaborating on the fact that my first question was about Sebastian. I don't have the energy to engage in this embarrassing conversation right now.
Andrew smiles weakly and squeezes my hand gently, as if he's afraid to break it. "London," he says softly. 'In the hospital.'
'St Mungo's?'
'No,' Andrew answers quietly. 'St Bartholomew's Hospital.'
I can't frown because it hurts, but I would if I could. 'A Muggle hospital? Why?'
Andrew sighs. 'I think your mother should explain that to you, Elara.'
Slowly, his thumbs stroke over my hands. I feel the warmth of his fingers, but nothing else.
'What happened?' I ask finally.
'I...' Andrew begins weakly. 'You can't remember anything?'
I can remember a few things, but I don't really want to address them right now.
'I... don't know,' I finally say. 'Not really.'
Andrew seems to be struggling with himself. The words don't want to come out and he has difficulty forming a sentence that makes sense. 'You... well... you... you were kidnapped.'
