talk to me
'that's alright, let it out, talk to me'
"You did what?!"
"I kissed Draco, Lyra, how many times do I have to say it?"
"Once more because I'm afraid it didn't compute..."
Lyra stared at Theo as his head rested in the palms of his hand and moved to kneel in front of him. Theo kissed Draco. Theo. Kissed. Draco.
"Why did I do it? Why did I do it? Why did I do it?!" he muttered to himself, gripping his shaggy brown hair in his hands.
She peeled his hands away and allowed him to lean into her, wrapping her arm around his torso. His dangly arms (inherited by Remus, of course) hung loosely at his side. "It's alright, Theo, just tell me what happened."
Theo sniffled and rested his head on her shoulder. "I read the whole situation wrong. I thought it was a date, you know," he mumbled. "I'd been sending signs and I thought he was reading and reciprocating them... so after the movie, I kissed him, and he kissed back at first. And then he just pushed me and told me to get lost and to never speak to him again. I was wrong, Lyra, so bloody wrong..."
Lyra pulled away, holding him back with her hands on his shoulders. "Oh, Theo... Love, it's alright, I'm sure he'll come around."
His head shook vigorously, and tears welled in his hazel eyes. "No, he won't."
"Have you given him more time? Perhaps he needs to think it over," she said softly. Lyra watched as the defeated look upon Theo's face remained despite her attempt at making him feel better. "Just go to sleep and send him a letter tomorrow."
Theo wiped his eyes, standing and placing his hands awkwardly in his pockets. "Sure, okay, I'll do that."
He turned, exiting her room and closing the door, leaving Lyra alone in her quiet room.
Lyra sighed. She'd really believed Draco had similar feelings toward Theo, but clearly, she had read him wrong. Deciding to take a break from teenage drama, she sat back at her desk and quickly scrawled a letter to George.
George,
Guess who stopped in for a nice little chat today? Dumbledore. The bloody bastard was interrogating me as if I committed a crime! He wanted to know if I remembered anything else from that night the other week. I've told him plenty of times, but he doesn't care.
Eddy sent me a letter, too. An invitation to the Black Ball, but I get two plus-ones. You and Mary. I can't get us out of it, though. I asked Mary earlier and she was keen as mustard (a muggle condiment) and is already planning her hair and makeup. It's on August 16th, so we have plenty of time to organise it all.
Have you talked to Molly about our plans for Monday? I got my license too, so I can drive us to the hills instead of taking a million trains and buses. Remember to wear warm clothes, it's forecasted to be very windy. Could you perhaps ask Molly to make something warm for us to eat? I'm sure we'll find a place for food if she can't, so don't make her feel like she has to.
I also got some very interesting news from Theo today. I'll tell you on Monday.
Write back soon, please. I know how slack you are with your letters.
Written with love,
Lyra x
She sealed the letter and grabbed her reply to Edmunds invitation before quietly descending the stairs to the living space.
Remus was sitting at the bench, his thinning hair sprayed messily about, and Mary was hovering over his shoulder, reading the article placed in front of him.
"What are you reading?"
Remus looked up, greeting her with a smile. "Just looking at an advertisement for tickets."
"Tickets to where?" Lyra asked, walking over to their family owl perched on an open window.
"The Quidditch World Cup," Mary answered.
Lyra finished tying the letters to the owl's feet before turning to face them. "Are you thinking of going?"
"We're considering it," Remus said, scratching the back of his neck. "Not just Mary and I, but you, Theo and Georgia, too."
"Seriously? You'd let us go?" Lyra quirked an eyebrow, questioning whether or not he was telling a joke.
Mary rested her head on Remus' shoulder. "Yes, Lyra. A family outing. I heard the Weasley's and Diggory's were planning on going, so perhaps you could talk to them and find out the go."
"I sure will," Lyra said. "I'm going to sleep, now, so goodnight."
She kissed her guardians on the cheek before returning up to her room, where she turned off the lights and tucked herself into bed.
Lyra spent the next morning finishing up the homework that had been set for her, ignoring the comments on her sanity (or lack thereof) from Mary, who just wanted to go dress shopping.
"Now that you're done with that," Mary said as Lyra entered the living space. "Want to go look for stunning ball gowns?"
"No, Mary, I've already told you. George and I are going together so we can coordinate our outfits," Lyra said with exasperation.
Mary whined, "Teenagers..."
Remus strolled into the room from the back door, his sleeves rolled up and thinning hair sprayed about messily. "Mary, you seem to forget you were once a teenager in love with a very specific someone."
Lyra looked between the two. There was a beat of silence, in which no one picked up on her sudden pause to think. Remus said a specific someone, and while he could have just been referring to himself in the third person, his tone didn't match that theory. It was tense and abrasive, almost tiptoeing around a line that the two had drawn years earlier.
Remus gestured to the backyard. "Come help me finish planting these flowers, Lyra."
She rolled her eyes, but abided, abandoning her plans to sit and watch a movie.
"What are we planting, Loopy?" Lyra asked, approaching the garden bed to the right of their cozy backyard, where purple plants sat in small pots beside a large bed of soil.
"Lavender, Little Black," Remus replied, kneeling beside the garden bed and replanting the plants.
Lyra followed suit, planting plant after plant, relaxing as the soothing smell of lavender filled her nostrils. The sound of Georgia tapping softly on the keys of the piano flew through an open window in the house, and the sun shone brightly through the tall trees surrounding their house.
Her mind wandered as she planted the lavender, back to her thoughts earlier. Had Remus been talking about someone else? It was totally possible that Mary had a gigantic crush before she and Remus married, just as she (unfortunately) dated Kenneth and at one point had been convinced that they were absolutely perfect for each other.
Either way, it wasn't any harm to ask, was it?
"Hey, Remus?"
He acknowledged her with a hum, but his head didn't lift from where he was evening out the soil.
"Did Mary date someone else at Hogwarts before she dated you?"
Remus froze momentarily and flushed slightly. "Uh - erm, maybe, I'm not sure. Why?"
"Just wondering." There was definitely more to investigate "It sounded like you were talking about someone other than yourself when you said she was in love with a very specific someone. I'm not curious, really, to see what the adults in my life got up to when they were young."
"Lot's of trouble, that's what," Remus answered, his tone awkward and deflective.
Lyra decided to forget about her plans later that night (reading and baking) to go through some old albums stored in the front room of this very house...
The usually warm and bright house had never felt colder.
George stood in the door frame to the bathroom, his eyes glued to a small fraction of the tiled floor.
For the past week, he'd avoided this bathroom, but it was the dead of night and he'd woken up, met with thirst.
He had retrieved a glass of cool water and began ascending the stairs, but the cup was already empty by the time he'd climbed the first set of stairs. Still hassled with thirst, he decided to quickly stop at the bathroom and use the tap.
But for some reason, as George stared at the floor, he could only be brought back to the worst day of his entire life.
Perhaps it was anticipation that woke Lyra before dawn the next morning, or the annoyingly persistent owl tapping on her window. With a sigh, she pulled back the covers and shuffled over to the window. She shivered when the cool breeze brushed her arms as she untied the letter from the owl.
Her name was scrawled messily on the front of the letter in handwriting that was easily recognised as George's.
She tore it open quickly.
I'm on my way. Please be okay
- George
Lyra's face scrunched together in confusion. With a glance at the clock on her wall, she saw that it was two thirty-seven in the morning. What was George doing up at this hour? Why was he on his way?
Lyra slowly opened the door from her room to the hall with so many unanswered questions and crept slowly down the stairs. She carefully tiptoed to the front door, making sure not to step on a creaking floorboard. The lock unlatched quietly, and Lyra stepped out.
The street was dark, but the lights that were spaced along the road provided minimal sight. The moon was also shining through the light dusting of clouds overhead. The porch was cold against her bare thighs as she sat down, waiting patiently.
She glanced down at the letter again briefly, checking to see if she missed anything, but the letter was still the same.
Lyra's attention was caught by a figure nearing fast, their pace increasing to a jog as they turned her street corner. She stood to get a better view of the newcomer and sighed from relief as a glimpse of red hair caught the streetlight.
"George!" She began walking towards him and halted as she saw the fear on his face. "George, what's wrong?"
He didn't acknowledge her question, instead, he grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her back inside the house.
"George-" she whispered, prepared to tell him to stop and explain himself, but he turned and held his index finger over his lips, telling her to remain silent.
They quietly ascended the stairs and snuck through to her room, where she shut the door after him.
Lyra blushed as she realised her room was untidy. There were clothes strewn about on the floor and stationary scattered across her desk, as well as an unmade bed and her bowl of noodles she'd used for dinner a few hours earlier.
"Sorry my room's a mess-" she began, leaning down to gather the clothes, but George silently halted her movement by placing his hand over her wrist. She met his eyes and saw that the fear was yet to subside. "What is it, George?"
She watched him take a deep breath and swallow before answering. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, George, I'm fine-"
"I mean are you really okay?" His eyes had not left hers, as though they were searching for something.
Lyra nodded. She placed a hand on the side of his cheek, knowing that he needed some form of grounding to bring him out of his worry. "I'm okay, George, really."
He shook her hand off her face and turned, facing the window and ran his hands through his long hair. "How?"
She ignored the sting his action gave her, "How what?"
"How are you okay after everything that's happened?"
Lyra stepped forward so that she was in front of him. "George, I need you to listen to me."
He blinked back the tears that she saw forming.
"I need you to understand that just because something bad has happened, it doesn't mean you can't recover," she said softly, caressing the side of his face with her thumb. "It's taken me a long time to be okay after everything that has happened. From emotional trauma to physical injury, it's been a long journey. And even then I'm not fully recovered. But you know what?"
She paused, watching as beads of tears slipped from his eyes and fell silently down his face. "I have been surrounded by people who have helped me on the way. I won't ever be the person I was before meeting Kenneth, but because of you, and many others, I'm still able to carry on with a smile."
He placed his hand on top of hers, holding it on his own. "You're so strong," he whispered. "Here I am crying when I've barely been through anything..."
Lyra shook her head. "Don't ever say that again, George Weasley."
"Why not? I don't deserve to cry."
"Because it's always okay to cry. You may not have been in my situation, but you were definitely affected by it. Greatly affected," she whispered, wiping tears from his face. "You held me on nights where the darkness swallowed me whole, on the days where the only answer seemed to be death. That couldn't have been easy on you."
He nodded, somewhat understanding. "I can't imagine how sad you must have been to believe that the only way out was to end it all."
"I think I was a bit more than sad, George..." She joked lightly. "Slightly suicidal, maybe."
George pulled her into a tight hug. "Please don't leave me. I don't think I could carry on without you."
Lyra scoffed. "I'm sure you could, you have Fred, Kat, Lee-"
"Yes," he interrupted. "But I don't think any of them would be too pleased about me asking to hold them in my arms as we fall asleep."
"Mhmm, true," Lyra said quietly. She took his cue and slowly climbed into bed. She settled under the covers with her head resting on his chest.
They were quiet for a moment, but George spoke again, softly. "Promise."
"Promise what?"
"Promise that you won't leave me."
"I promise I won't leave you, George. Figuratively and literally."
It seemed her promise was all that was needed as they both drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
But happy endings are not always destined, and one should know to never make promises they can't keep.