When She Spoke (Marauders Era)

Chapter Fourteen

Water was something that the human race depended on. Hydration was a key benefit, along with sanitary aid and great fun on hot, dry days. Water was something that Lark Riddle really wished she didn't need. Though to some she seemed invincible, water quenched her hubris and molded it into something that she imagined looked a bit like a squashed tomato, decaying out on the pavement.

When she was three, a miniature Lark nearly drowned herself in the bathtub. When she was five, a slightly older Lark choked whilst attempting to down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a tall glass of seltzer. That incident ended with a trip to the Emergency Room at a muggle hospital (much to Tom's distaste), in which she had to have her right lung cut open to relieve her from the ounce of bubbling water filling it. At age nine, Tom tried to educate Lark in the art of swimming. To make a long story short, one sibling nearly died of a hard kick to the ribcage, and it wasn't Lark.

As a result, she was far from thrilled when she opened her eyes, only to find herself sitting in the middle of a vast forest of kelp, dark sand coating everything below her knees. How did she feel? Claustrophobic, slimy, terrified, and just about every other negative feeling out there, violated included.

Far above, moonlight pierce through the smooth surface. Lark held a small hand out in front of her face, squinting to the point where her head throbbed from the unwavering eyebrow-furrowing concentration. All she saw was an eerie murky blackness on the edges of her vision, only growing darker as it neared the center.

By instinct, her lips parted in a silent scream, hopeless bubbles being the only result. She watched them drift up, up and onward, disappearing fading into the night sky like little teardrops, drying as they ended their descent down the jawline. Lark flailed pointlessly, attempting to at least float upward, goal frighteningly unreachable. Out went a shoulder, then an arm and leg, jutting out at odd angles as she gave one final burst of energy....and fell right back down to the bottom of the Black Lake, luminescent kelp swirling and bending around her, disturbingly caressing her limbs gracefully.

So Lark sat, legs crossed Native-American style and head in her palms, figuring out that if she was going to drown, she wanted to do it peacefully. Maybe Severus and Lily would actually get along with the Black sisters at her funeral! Maybe there was a heaven for magical people! She found these thoughts calming, almost unaware of the pressure being put on her lungs, red hot pain weaving its way through her body and the chilling water sending shivers up her spine. If this was what peace felt like, then she could hold out for a little while.

Lark's train of thought came to a stop as a strange roaring noise pierced the oppressive silence around her, and she jolted her head up to see a boy, extremely tall and athletically built, plummeting towards her as gravity pulled him down like the anchor to a ship. His eyes were like hazel and hair jet black, longer than the average length, but shorter than Severus's, which almost reached his shoulders.

Her dark eyes flashed in surprise as he scooped her up into his arms the same way Sirius had held her earlier and propelled himself to the surface. She could see his muscled shoulders straining against both her weight, oxygen deprivation and the water opposing him. Though most girls would swoon and giggle airily at this experience, Lark refused to reduce herself to that level.

James Potter was to the rescue, and his damsel in distress was far from satisfied. She had been quite enjoying the process of total peacefulness, and was not pleased when she was so rudely interrupted. As the two children broke the surface, she could hear his relieved breaths, rhythmically timed and desperate. Lark, however, exhaled slowly through her nose frustrated and quite unhappy with her rescuer.

"I'm wet!", James shrieked girlishly. "My best jeans are dripping wet, my hair looks normal, and it's all your fault!", he pointed at Lark accusing with his one free hand.