The Order and The Ravenclaw (A George Weasley Love Story)

Someone elses nightmare

She wanted to die, and the only way she knew that she wasn't already dead was because of how much she wanted to die. The girl, no, the women rose from her small cott, the girl who was both the women and not the women rose with her. She paced, her bare feet pale and almost purple from the cold stone floor of the dark room. She couldn't feel the cold, but she knew it was. The way you know something hurt but can't exactly remember the pain itself.

"I can't do this." The girl thought, or maybe she said it. There was no way to tell here. The only thing from keeping her terror for overtaking her, from stumbling into madness completely was how exhausted she was. Even the slightest movements drained her. She just wanted to lay down and die. For it to be over.

The women moved anyway though, pacing up and down and up and down and up and down the small cell. The whole time she told herself. "He will return for me." A small flicker of hope that she refused to let flicker out. None of this mattered because he would rise to power again and she would be by his side. He would see how loyal she had been. His most devoted, and she would be rewarded for it. This pain was worth suffering for him.

"No." The girl thought shaking her head. She didn't understand, couldn't understand and it hurt to much to try. She recoiled from the women's pain, but she couldn't escape it. She wanted to die. To be free.

"To die would be to fail him." The women countered, "I am no use to him dead."

The girls terror overtook her, she couldn't take it. She thrashed against the women's mind. This wasn't her, this wasn't her memory.

"He will return for me. His most devoted. His Bella."

Lyra bolted from the bed, her body moving, stumbling, running. She reached the small waste basket just in time violently vomiting into it. She fell back onto her butt her entire body shaking as she wiped away the drool and vomit from her face. "I am Lyra Stone." She told herself her eyes pricking with tears. "I'm Lyra Stone, and I love potions, and books, and I'm safe."

She looked around the room she was in, "Im in George's bedroom. Which has two windows, one door, a wardrobe with six drawers, and a nightstand with one drawer."

She took a deep breath, "Two windows, one door, seven drawers." Another breath, "Two windows, one door, seven drawers." Her heart began to slow back down to a normal pace. She repeated the mantra until the world around her seemed more real then the dream she woke from. Until she had entirely convinced herself it was a dream. Her minds way of dealing with everything that had happened the past few days.

Finally, after her legs and butt were numb from sitting, and she felt safe enough to leave the room. She stood vanishing her vomit and walking out into the hall.

Voices could be heard coming from the living room. Even in her state she could feel waves of tension echoing off the conversation.

"I'm sorry Proffesor, but I really don't think it's a good idea." She identified the voice as George immediately.

"I understand you want to protect her, but the longer we hold off the more I fear it will hurt her."

"Just a couple more days-"

"Ahhh George?" Fred said as Lyra entered the living room.

George turned, "Lyra! I'm sorry did we wake you?"

But Lyra was staring past the boys, at the man in the doorway. Albus Dumbledore looked back at her grimly.

She didn't know why. Maybe it was because of the dream. Or simply because pain is so much more easy to handle when you have someone to blame. But the sight of this man. This man that she trusted, angered her beyond reason.