Lyra wandered of, making sure even those who were coincidentally looking out of the window didn't see her around. As she was looking for the hole she had covered up those years ago, a blaring squawking noise stopped all her tracks.
One of the white peacocks the family owned came to Lyra. Without having to look if his feathers differed, she immediately knew it was Otto. He missed her, letting her pet him without any sign of objection. "I need to go, Otto. I will come back soon, I promise," she lied.
It tried following her but Lyra told him to go back. Just behind the grey bench was her not so well done camouflage. And no one noticed this? Seriously? she thought while removing the moss and dirt. When everything was gone, Lyra crawled inside. Throughout the years, the secret tunnel had started to smell. Probably because it was discovered by rats and spiders who decided they wanted to live there as well. Lyra tried not to throw up (again) as she felt a rat corpse underneath her hand while trying to climb up.
"I am so washing myself twenty times after I leave this place," she whispered, wiping her hand on her shirt in disgust. Interestingly enough, she managed to hear muffled voices speaking to each other. Sadly, Lyra didn't recognise them as the walls were too thick.
The small door that led to her room was connected to the fireplace she hadn't used in years. So, coming out meant her clothes were not only dirty from mud, rat corpses, now also from the leftover ash from a fire that went out summers ago.
Her room, however, did not look as though it had been touched (if you didn't count cleaning up to prevent dust). Still bright with small hints of her interests which haven't changed apart from a few. Sixteen year old Lyra wouldn't even dare leaving her house with a green boa.
She'd wear a black one. It was more chique and would fit with any outfit.
When she looked inside her wardrobe, there were surprisingly a few items she'd still be able to fit into and weren't completely hideous. So, Lyra wore a grey sweater (she'd received from Hermione for Christmas and had been looking for upon receiving her clothes that day) and dark, baggy blue jeans she decided to wear at the Quidditch World Cup instead of the skinnier ones.
Lyra wouldn't need shoes yet, first she needed to go to the person she would steal a pair from.
Draco.
Getting to his room was harder than Lyra thought it to be considering they were next to each other. Due to her previous sleep walking habits, it was made heavier and they clearly didn't change it once she left. With strength she miraculously managed to get out, Lyra opened the door and tiptoed to Draco's.
His door was half open. Without making any disturbing noises, Lyra stepped in and peered around. At seventeen, Draco decided to make his room look as boring as possible. At least the Slytherin posters were gone and that's a very good thing. "Thank Merlin! You got rid of those god awful posters."
Draco almost jumped off his desk-seat upon hearing her. The last time she'd seen him, he was a mess: thin, tired and sickly pale. Now, he possessed that healthy glow. Face more similar to the sneering boy she knew her whole life. Lyra hoped he stopped hurting himself but still knew that wasn't easy.
"What in the bloody hell are you doing here?" he whisper-yelled, almost falling when he closed his door. "Out of all the places you can go to, you decide Malfoy Manor?"
