𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐒 a draco malfoy fanfiction [𝟐] [✓]

vi

6

L  U  M  O  S

( LOO - mos )

" to create light "

_______________

LYRA SPEND JUST short of two weeks bed bound in St. Mungo's, Sirius and Remus never left her side. Her final day at St. Mungo's, she couldn't hold back her questions any longer.

Remus was packing get well soon cards and presents into a small bag, extended with a charm. Lyra straightened her Hufflepuff tie and dropped onto her temporary bed.

"Why can't I control it?" She murmured, catching Remus off guard.

He sighed and pulled her into his side, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, "Because, some of it isn't yours. It was gifted to you, somehow, we aren't sure how."

Lyra nodded, taking a few shaking breaths before she spoke again, "It was her's wasn't it," she said, "Her magic."

"Magic works in mysterious ways, my Dear," Remus smiled sadly, "and some of her's is hidden in you."

_______________

On her first week back at Hogwarts, she received her belated detentions with Umbridge. Harry didn't get chance to warn his best friend of what she would endure inside the pink study.

Lyra had barely spoken a word to her friends, instead she remained in a silent and pensive trance, floating between classes. If she was just a little more transparent, passing students would've mistaken her for a resident ghost.

"Good evening, Professor," She mumbled, dropping into the seat across from the pink lady.

A sick smile twisted into Umbridge's thin lips, curling dangerously at the corners. The familiar black quill was lay neatly beside pages of parchment.

"You know what to do, Sweet." Lyra shivered at her false voice.

Lyra picked up the quill, taking a drawn out breath before making contact with the parchment. 'I will not set the class of fire. I will not harm my professors. I must not tell lies.'

Lyra repeated these three sentences for just over an hour, grinding her teeth each time her hand stung and burned. The sentence appeared under each other, covering her pale skin in glistening red drops, slipping from the cursive scratches.

Her arm was searing and becoming numb form the ferocity of the pain. Umbridge hummed a cheery tune as she marked essays.

"Let's see if that's, sunk in, shall we?" She pulled on Lyra's arm, inspecting the written gashes.

"I think that's going to stay with you for a while, Dear," Umbridge sunk back into her outrageously pink armchair, "You may leave."

Just like she did every day for the past week, Lyra floated out of Professor Umbridge's office. It was after hours, so only the odd Prefect would be patrolling the corridors.

Lyra slipped through the hallways unnoticed, pressing herself against the cold wall or ducking into an unused classroom when voices came near. Her footsteps echoed softly, dissipating seconds after.