lyra | harry potter

twenty-five | eye of the storm

IN THE QUIET OF MORNING, WHEN LYRA FINALLY STIRRED from her restless sleep, she realized Harry had never left her the night before and felt more comfort than she thought she should have from this. But she couldn't deny that she felt safe and at ease in his arms. For a moment she simply lay there, her head still on his chest and their legs tangled together as his arms were wrapped around her. She decided then that she could stay like that forever— if it were possible. But it wasn't. 

"You're awake," Harry mumbled when he woke up and peeked at her face, seeing that her eyes were open. His voice was tired and gruff from hours of sleep. Though admittedly, he hadn't gotten very much of it; not that he would tell her that, of course.

Harry had woke in the middle of the night. His rest had been disrupted with the usual disturbing dream-visions involving Voldemort. And he had thought about all that had happened when the others came to get him to safety, and he looked down at Lyra's sleeping form, and he decided he didn't want anyone else to get hurt. Especially her. So he had pressed a secret kiss to her forehead and eased his way out of bed, gathered his things from Ron's room, and left the Burrow.

He hadn't even gotten out of the yard when Ron confronted him. They argued at first, then talked calmly. Harry ended up asking Ron to just go with him, but he refused. "And leave Hermione and Lyra? Are you mad? We wouldn't last two days without them," he had said. "Besides... after what happened with Lyra, she'd completely lose it if we left her behind."

Ron was right, of course. Which was why, in the end, they decided to wait a little longer. Harry returned his rucksack to Ron's room and then made his way back to Bill's, where Lyra was tossing and turning in her sleep due to nightmares. The moment Harry crawled back into bed she unconsciously curled into him, and her fitful movements stopped. He didn't quite know what to make of that, but it made him feel good to know that he at least provided her some sort of peace. After a while, he'd drifted back off to sleep.

"Yeah," Lyra responded quietly. Neither of them made any moves to separate. "What else happened last night? I didn't... I didn't even think to ask."

Harry sighed before reluctantly answering her. "A lot. But I suppose the most important things are that George was hit with a curse by Snape, and it cut his ear off, but he's fine. And Mad-eye... he was killed."

She stirred slightly, tilting her head to look up at him with wide eyes. "Mad-eye's dead?" Harry nodded glumly. "That's terrible." There weren't really any words she could think to say. Of the lot of them, Lyra figured Moody would be the last person to die in the battle. In fact, she'd thought herself to be the first one that would. She was shocked, to say the least.

"It is," Harry agreed. He paused and asked cautiously, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to stay here forever and not have to face the world," Lyra admitted.

His lips tugged upward at the corners, a small smile forming at her words. "Same here." He tightened his hold around her briefly, hugging her close. "But at least we'll face the world together, right? Besides. I hear there's a wedding coming up."

"Yeah, Bill and Fleur's." Lyra shifted so that she was lying on her back next to him instead, but Harry reached for her hand almost subconsciously, and their fingers intertwined. Harry gazed at her as she spoke, though her eyes were trained on the ceiling above them. "It's an odd time for a wedding, but Molly reckons we all need some sort of happiness in these times. And Fleur is afraid if they wait until the war is over, one of them... might not survive. Bill won't say so, but I think he's afraid of that too. Especially after what happened with Greyback."

"I kind of see where they're coming from," Harry admitted. "It might be a little rushed, but— well, with the war going on, I guess you can't really afford to wait for the right time. Because you'll never know when it will be the last time."