Violet Vacancy

Chapter 52- Trust me

Lyra wanted to demand answers, from Severus, from Albus, even from Harry. They all seemed to know something was going on, something she didn't. She was in the dark. But by Merlin sometimes the dark can be so cool, so comforting. Her flaws were hidden in the dark. The dark was enticing, it snaked its tendrils around her, squeezed her so tight she could barely breath, but whispers soft sweet nothings into her ear, made her feel loved and wanted. She didn't want to believe that her boyfriend (that sounded so weird. Something so mundane in the Muggle world used the same in the Wizarding world) was up to anything ruinous. She didn't want her relationship to be interrupted, destroyed. She didn't want to be left alone again. Swearing it was all just coincidence, she ignored the mounting evidence that was piling up towards Severus. But things were going so well. Katie Bell had recovered, Ron's horrible (the PDA in the Halls from them was just atrocious) relationship had ended. All the kids were talking about the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw Quidditch game, it was so hyped up even Lyra considering going to watch it. Severus was not quite kind, he was definitely his usual self. However, he was caring toward her. No one dared cross him. He simply would not tolerate it. Which made her wonder why lately he had allowed Draco Malfoy to walk all over him. She did not let on anything, for it would lose her her edge, her advantage. He would ask why she had listened in, deny anything had been real. So she kept quiet and grew more and more attached to him. They patrolled the corridors, his hand would brush hers every now and then. He was never into public displays of affection.

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!” yelped a shrill voice. It was very close by, and Severus who had seemed on edge the whole time, takes off in the direction of the voice. His cloak flies behind him like a cape; she had never seen him run. Lyra, being the respectable teacher she is, followed him at a quick walking pace. Snape looked irate, at least on the outside. On the inside, she knew there was more to it. Draco Malfoy was sprawled out, blood leaking from various wounds on his body. His robes were in rags. He looked like he had been attacked with a knife, and if they weren't in a Wizarding school she would have suggested it. But she knew the boy before her, Harry Potter would never do that (despite how much he may hate someone, Lyra firmly believed he'd never intend to kill anyone.) Yet if that had been true, what had happened to make his worst enemy lay on the floor, possibly dying? She had seen Snape pissed about several things, mostly her and her snarky comments. She had seen him scream, she had seen him quiet. She had witnessed him bitter, malicious, plain mean. She had seen him in about every emotion possible (though she must note for his sake, he had never cried. Just looked upset, something in his eyes like longing, or wistfulness would appear. But as soon as she would notice it, he would hide it. And he was never overly ecstatic either. He was always very moderate in his emotional spectrum which, to Lyra who was very emotional, seemed like a blessing and a curse. He would grant her smiles and squeezes of the hand, and if she was lucky he would grow her a acacia blossom.  At first she had been confused, for most women received roses from lovers in the Muggle world. Was this a Wizarding world tradition? But when she asked Albus, he simply chuckled, told her no it was not and that Severus never did anything without meaning. So she looked up in a old textbook for Herbology a student had left behind, the meaning of the flower meant hope and concealed love. Lyra accepted these flowers much more excitedly and adoringly than before after that.) But never had she seen this concoction of anger, worry, apprehension. It worried her, and confirmed that there was so much more going on than she could have ever dreamed of or been able to deny. He pushed past Harry (the boy had enough sense about him to step aside) and pulled out his wand. Lyra was searching for some enchantment, spell, jinx something that could reverse the injuries. But she didn't even know of a spell that could cause these kind of deep gnashes. Using her Muggle safety knowledge, she also kneels and puts pressure on Draco’s wounds. This drenched her own light emerald robes, but would suppress the bleeding. Severus seemed to be in his element. If he knew how to heal the injury, she would have expected him to pull a potion out from his long cloak (which she supposed he kept in there for emergencies) and trickle it down Malfoy's throat. After all, he had been the Potions professor for Merlin knows how many years. But no, he began to mutter wildly what sounded like a song, and Lyra wondered if he had gone mad. Blood was still leaking, but no longer was it pouring. He began again, like some ritual, and soon the wounds were stitching themselves. Lyra chanced moving her body weight, to wipe a the residue of blood from Draco's pale face, and as she does so notices there is no longer a huge cut where she had been pressing. If it weren't for the lines where the wounds were and the ridiculous amount of blood staining his light flaxen hair, Lyra's robes, the floor, everywhere, she would have believed she was hallucinating. It was like one of the Horror movies she had seen, Harry looked horrified, doused in blood, yet too scared to move. Was this was the Chosen one did to supposed Death Eaters? Was this a message? Lyra now noticed the screeches and sobs of a wispy, silver girl with thick round glasses. Moaning Myrtle, everyone knew her, not everyone liked her though. Malfoy, though no longer bleeding, was still unconscious. Severus, in most likely the nicest gesture he had ever done for a student, lifts the limp body of Draco up