"All I wished for was to not be a Slytherin. Pure blood supremacy was woven into the material of those jade coloured ties and I would rather strangle myself with one than wear it."
After returning from her time spent on the run, Lyra, unruly, sarcas...
Hi all, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 6K! I can't believe it🥺 Hope you all enjoy this chapter and please VOTE and COMMENT💚 For this chapter we are back to Lyra's perspective, however it will be switching a lot from now on so hope it's not too confusing. Xx
Fundamental
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-Lyra Emerald-
The common room was cold and empty when I returned. Just like how I felt inside. The fire was unlit and the grey day outside reflected its dismal mood inside the common room. It was lifeless. Bare. Bleak.
Astra. I'm not surprised. In fact I'm almost comforted at the fact he hasn't changed. He's still the same. Selfish and predictable. Too much like myself. And I can't believe I was so foolish. To take him to the only untouched monument of my mundane childhood. The perpetuous escape that I had made for myself. And now it was touched. Interrupted. Stained by his tainted Pureblood fingertips.
Now all I could do was shake my head with disappointment and swear to myself to never let him in. Never again. Not even in the slightest.
"Hello". My weak, breathy words echoed from the cold stone walls, speaking back to me like an aimless, unsettled ghost of my former self.
"Hello" I called again, my voice breaking harshly, only to be met with the same cold response of my own eerie echo.
Looking around, I couldn't see another Slytherin student anywhere. The tables were bare, and the sofas empty, all stripped of their usual lighthearted chatter and friendly conversation.
"Fuck you Malfoy. FUCK YOU." I collapsed onto the cold stone floor, my knees scraping on the flagstone. No matter how annoyed or angry I was, I was hurt the most. Wrenched by something that wasn't even mine.
"No......No." I exclaimed, spitting my words out in disappointment, immediately standing up, reminding myself of who I was. What I stood for. Ignoring my feelings was something I had become accustomed to, my childhood had presented me with that talent, and I wasn't about to stop now.
I began pacing, angry with myself, let down by my continuous need to feel a parallel. His parallel. I would not allow him to let me feel like this. He didn't care, And in knew that. But neither did I. Next time he was distressed, or bruised, or whimpering, or bleeding in the dark, it would be solus. And I knew that the moment I reached out my hand towards the hostile blonde.
I'm not sure what good I imagined to come from this. All I gained was hurt, a dagger to my leathery skin, already scarred and damaged from years of fruitless determination.
"Fuck" . My vexed words echoed again, along with the clashing sound of the metal bin, I just kicked, as it went hurling across the rough stone floor, before clattering against the wall.
