BURNED DREAMS▪️ F. WEASLEY ▪️ REWRITING!

XXII: evasion

      Words. Why were the words harder to take in than Killing Curses?

They were sharp as knife, and they shot through her stomach, ceasing the calmness into the darkness. And then the void became rage.

''I mean, I knew ambition was one of Slytherin traits, but I never knew you were this ambitious.'' he said, sort of absent-mindedly. Lyra saw past that; she saw the anger, but she saw the sadness and affection for her were still there.

''Do you think I had choice?'' she whispered, sounding weak and fragile and everything she didn't want to sound like at the moment. But Fred knew there was storm coming, a storm forming in her already twisted mind. He didn't know what to think anymore; she was unreadable to him, hell, she was unreadable to everyone.

''Yes, because everyone has a choice, Lyra.'' he replied back and his tone was still calm, but the vein on his forehead exposed him.

Lyra laughed dryly. ''Do you really think that? Because if you do, you won't survive what's coming.''

He raised his eyebrows, but the surprise on his face wasn't what shocked Lyra - it were the tiny waves of fear. She saw that often on people's faces and it became an undeletable picture in her head; Lyra was finally turning into her mother, just like everyone had predicted.

''Oh, and you would know all about that?'' he barked at her. ''I suppose being mommy's girl has its advantages.''

Lyra took a step back. This was it, for she had finally snapped. She could bear all the insults, the taunting, the hexes and jinxes from him, but the one thing she never wanted to hear from his mouth were these words.

Mommy's girl. Oh, no, he won't.

Lyra stood there, gaping at him furiously for at least two minutes and he soon appeared to realize what he said. He stumbled forward and murmured, but no words came out - only the sorry on his face gave Lyra's fiercely beating heart a bit of rest.

''Mommy's girl?'' she repeated his words. ''And to think I was the one who fell in love with you.''

''If you really loved me, you wouldn't have done this.''

''DO I NEED TO DRAW IT FOR YOU? I didn't have choice, Fred!'' she yelled, as her vision was getting blurrier and blurrier with each second. ''I am not my mother.''

''I — Lyra — don't — '' he started, but the rest of sentence was drowned as he seemed to not to be able to bring out the end of it.

''Just because you're angry doesn't mean you have the right to be cruel.'' she said softly and left for her room once for all. Wow, he did it, she thought to herself, he broke my heart.

Lyra closed her door quietly and glided slowly to her bed, where the once warm soup stood waiting for her. She wanted to scream, to go back and yell at him, but it wouldn't help. She would stilll have her forsaken heart broken, she would still cry afterwards, she would still promise herself that love is off limits once and forever, she would still feel her world collapsed - so it really wouldn't help.

So this is how heartbreak feels. My mom was right. She was absolutely right. Idiot, idiot, idiot!

But Lyra wasn't that type. Yes, she originally meant to go cry and sob on her bed, but at the corner of her current room sat a painting that breathed and occasionally snored. She never really gave it much thought, since she was a bit preoccupied with protesting during her 'visit'.

Neverthless, Lyra was familiar, too familiar with those asymethric snores since the same sounds pushed her buttons whenever she wanted to sleep or have some quiet.

Lyra arose from her place at floor and strode to the corner to unwrap the portrait. It was rusty, dirty and so full of dust that Lyra had to take a moment to stop choking, but it was worth it since the resident was an arrogant asshole she knew quite well.

It revealed a pale boy, a boy — it pained her to say — a boy who was her savior, really.

''Something wrong?'' the boy asked, although he didn't open his eyes immediately, rather for dramatic effect. ''You're disturbing me.''

''You're already disturbed.'' she clapped back and started shaking the portrait violently so he awoke. ''Wake up, I need your help.''

''Stop it, you idiot.''

''Regulus, please, I need to get home.'' she pleaded as Regulus was now completely awake and staring at her closely.

He sighed. ''What do I need to do?''

''Get the message to Manor that I'm fine and that I'll be coming soon.'' she said quickly and turned back to the bed and wardrobe. There wasn't much to be packed; she only needed her wand and she was ready. ''And tell them I have Kreacher.''

''Kreacher is already there.'' he said and vanished a moment after as Lyra soaked in confusion about whereabouts of elf that she grew fond of.

There was no time to discuss that matter with herself; she had to find that damned wand.

She realized that she was indeed clueless about this house. Of course, Lyra kind of already knew where the bathroom or kitchen were, but she, for example, had no idea where would they hold parchments or medicaments. There was only one idea on her mind, and although pathetic, it could work.

Lyra got off her bed and ran her hands through her once tidy and flowing curls, hoping to untangle at least something. She knew that if she arrived home looking like an Azkaban escapee, the Order would be targeted even more for they treating her badly. The raven-like hair was let down as Lyra didn't really like bothering with it; the hair, after all, had its own mind.

Alright, here we go.

''Accio wand!'' Lyra said sort of loudly as the silence continued after her incantation.

Nothing happened. Lyra sighed; of course it wouldn't work out - she could do non-verbal magic, but the wandless one was a different story.

There was a momentary flash of light and a loud crack, as Lyra felt herself fall back on her bed. The need for a wand was gone immediately as Sprinkles, her house elf, materialized in front of Lyra.

The elf was uneasy, Lyra concluded, since her big eyes darted left and right, as if someone would attack her. And Lyra realized she disobeyed an order, because she remembered her father yelling at her how she shall never leave Manor or she would get fired. It was her father who was the owner of them, after all.

''Quick Miss., get my hand!'' she squeaked hurriedly as Lyra still collected herself — it all happened in minutes.

''I have to get my wand!'' she complained as elf's brown eyes gazed directly at hers, full of worry.

Sprinkles stared at her for couple of moments, before clapping her hands abruptly and then taking Lyra's hand. A second — it only took a second for her wand to slip under crack of the door and land in her hand — it seemed Sprinkles wasn't really sure how it happened either, for she had a stunned face.

In a blink of minute, the door of her room swung open and the only thing Lyra felt was the fresh warmness in her hand and her body squeezing like in a tube. And considering the fact that at the door stood a bizarred Molly Weasley and an angry Alastor Moody, Lyra was once in her lifetime thankful for line Lestrange to be such a wealthy one with many elves to pass on.