Perfidy | Tom Riddle |

27.

Three days later:

The same routine stuck over and over again. Lyra would lay in the infirmary bed lost in the decorated ceiling her mind replaying everything every second every touch her body still sore and ached with any movement.

Nurse Podmore multiple times throughout the day would bother her to eat. But no matter what she did she could never hold the prepared food down and would throw up as soon as she instantly swallowed anything.

She never left her bed, stayed hidden behind a casting charm, if anyone entered they simply would not sight her.

The pain reminded her of how powerless she was, to be so afraid revolted her,having this constant gut wretched feeling in the pit of her stomach everytime she glanced at a mirror analyzing her appearance.

Lyra used the killing curse many considerable times, not once batting an eye to it. Never getting queasy or vicariously experiencing the nauseous pit that would drag itself around one's chest. The way people described it seemed so horrid upon hearing the specific details. But this, now, to have that feeling as everyone described to her present, drove her mad.

"Lyra you killed him, that was unacceptable especially using a killing curse! How can you live with yourself?" Hermione yelled furiously in sheer disbelief.

"Dolohov was about to kill Neville, what was I supposed to do Hermione? I couldn't allow him, anyone but Neville to die." Lyra looked at Hermione who's pinched face appeared to be frightened, "I can live with myself completely fine. I don't need a lecture right now. Please just let it go for now."

Silence.

"Do you feel any different?"

"Not really. I feel...I feel absolutely nothing. His death meant nothing to me. I can cast the killing curse ten or a hundred time's to a death eater and it wouldn't bother me for a second." she sat sliding down the wall recalling how easily she cast it, the bright green flash leaving her wand as it striked Dolohov's chest. His body instantly dropped.

She felt no remorse and never would.

Lyra dearly missed him. As much as she positively hated Riddle she missed him. With his fundamental constant arguing, his glowing eyes, his familiar voice, she felt so stupid to long desperately for him.

He probably felt relieved not having her around for so long. Probably celebrating in rejoice.

The sole truth was, Riddle wasn't.

He sat uneasily in her room, three days in a row waiting for her to barge in and yell at him for cleaning her room, placing items in ways she probably would dislike. Slughorn wasn't much help; he didn't know where she was either, only that for a few days she wouldn't attend class based on what Dumbledore told him.

"Did she disappear because of what happened between us?" he clearly voiced out. "It merely meant nothing. Why would she take drastic measures?"

"Riddle." he turned to see Nott and Mulciber standing by the dingy door also desperately wanting to know what happened to her. "We found something." Mulciber pulled in a third-year Slytherin student from his robes, the same one that delivered her the letter that memorable night and threw him into the room. While Nott pulled in the very Gryffindor girl that helped her that night.

"Tell him," Nott defended, the first time his voice felt emotionless, none of them were okay with her ultimate disappearance.

It was just then when they instantly realized how much Lyra had positively impacted their private lives, and for her to completely drop off the face of the earth deeply struck them.