Cyra stared pitifully at the infirmary curtains, wanting nothing more than to escape. It wasn't prison, but it sure felt like it. Wincing as she felt the cloth around her suddenly tighten, "Ah." She grunted in pain, "Pretty sure I just felt my spleen move into my large intestine."
"That means it's working." Pomfrey retorted, before loosening it slightly, "There, now quit your whining." The teenager huffed, putting her gown down now that the bandages were secured. She turned to the nurse, giving her best sweet smile, "Madam Pomfrey, could you oh so dearly allow me to wash my ha-"
"No. You could tear your side." Her response was short and clipped, making Cyra retreat. The older witch shot the girl a look, "You will just have to deal with cleaning charms for now dear." At that, she tapped her wand on the very top of Cyra's head, a silver light traveling over the hair. Frizzy curls grew a shine, yet her expression remained sour.
"There. All clean." Pomfrey shut down the conversation, exiting through the curtains. Once she was sure Madam Pomfrey was gone, she let out a dramatic sigh, muttering low, "No guests, no showers, no going outside, no fun." Looking at her bedside table, she felt herself growing antsy.
Two nights spent in the infirmary, and she felt like climbing the walls. Her only company was a mad matron who shrieked the moment she put a foot out of bed. The one thing Cyra absolutely despised, doing nothing.
"Bloody…nothing.." She whispers to herself, looking out the crack of her curtains. She could see Madam Pomfrey flitting back and forth, trying to get her restock straight before the students all returned. That witch was not going anywhere. Neither was she if she didn't think of something.
Looking around her small little area, she locked on to her clothing folded on the chair. McGonagall had brought her a pair of the clothes that got sent by her father. Whenever she was declared to leave, she could get dressed in some comfortable clothes.
But Cyra didn't plan on waiting. Slipping her hand under her pillow, she took out her wand, holding it low so Pomfrey wouldn't see. She waited until Madam Pomfrey went into the backroom. When the door shut, she slid out of the bed, cracking the curtains open a bit.
No sight of Pomfrey, but that didn't mean she could make a clean break. She'd be tied down to the cot before she could even reach the doors. She needed a distraction. Looking around the infirmary, a mischievous twinkle entered her eye.
"Accio Towels.."
Tucked in her sheets, Cyra lazily doodled on some parchment. Hearing the office door open, her lips quirk up.
"Oh! I hadn't noticed this spilled..."
There were some quick steps, and then an annoyed sigh, "Where's all my cloths?" There was a moment of silence, before hurried steps came towards her area. Cyra quickly looked down at her paper, scribbling a heart quickly.
The curtains pulled apart, Madam Pomfrey narrowed eyes peering down at her, "I have to run to get cloth, don't you take a step until I return." She gave the nurse a nervous smile, "Understood ma'am. You can trust me." Not.
"Mm-hm."
The curtains shut back. She continued to sketch on the parchment. Retreating footsteps towards the doors, before she heard Pomfrey inhale for a moment. She began to get nervous. Did she know?
"Lupin, when I get back, you better be here." This was a warning. She knew.
Cyra drew a cat on the page, replying sweetly, "Of course, Madam Pomfrey. I'll be right here."
The doors shut, but she didn't move yet. Closing her eyes, she listened to Pomfrey's steps. When they reached the turn near the sleeping knights' portrait, she whispered, "Showtime."
As if hit by a burst of energy, she threw herself out of the bed, throwing off the gown and snatching up her jeans. It was a struggle to get her shirt on, a painful struggle, but she dealt with it.
Once she was dressed, she shoved her things in her bookbag, throwing it onto her shoulder and running off. She had no shoes. She did not care. Slipping out through the Infirmary doors, she inhaled the air of the castle. Freedom.
She knew exactly where she was going.
"Thank you for agreeing to my request, Sybill, I just need to run get some things." Pomfrey spoke out of breath, rushing back to the infirmary, "Normally I wouldn't ask these things of you. But-"
"No no, no need to worry my dear. I've seen it in the stars." Trelawney whispered, placing her hand on Pomfrey's shoulder, "That's how I knew to be here for you. I've come to assist in watching the little one."
Pomfrey gave the witch a strained smile, turning the knobs on her doors, stepping in, "Lupin! Professor Trelawney will be sitting in with you until I return." She waited on a reply, "Lupin?"
Still nothing.
Trelawney stepped forward, tilting her head at the closed curtains, "Hm, perhaps she might be sleeping?"
Pomfrey tried not to roll her eyes as she hurried over to the bedside, pushing open the curtains. Under the sheets was a lumpy form that seemed Cyra-shaped. Snatching up the sheet, Pomfrey gasped in outrage as she saw all the towels she had been missing, "Oh you little trickster!"
"Oh my.." Trelawney stepped closer to the bed, "She must have escaped."
"Didn't see that in the stars, Sybill?"
"Yes..how strange."
Sticking close to the stone walls, Cyra walked confidently through the halls. The holidays weren't over, so students won't have returned. It was empty. Just like when she arrived. At the thought of the incident, she felt a cold chill go through her body. She didn't really want to think about it very much.
She wasn't avoiding anything. Definitely not. Oh, look, she had arrived at the Gryffindor Tower. Trying not to grimace at the pitying look on the Fat Lady's face.
"Hello, dear. You are doing well, yes?"
Cyra managed a smile, "Right as rain, madam. May I be allowed inside?"
"Oh, of course, go right in."
Well, that's not what she was expecting, but she'd take it. As the portrait cracked open, she stepped carefully inside.
"This is getting ridiculous. You two are ruining my appetite!" Ron was grumbling from his place in front of the fire, half a licorice wand in his mouth. Harry looked over to Cyra, and his eyes lit up with joy, a grin forming.
She stepped up to the couch, placing a finger over her lips to tell Harry to stay quiet. He understood.
"Go take you and your trough elsewhere then!" George shot back in a sharp tone. Fred grabbed ahold of his shoulder, "Easy George. He's just being a lil snot."
Ron scoffed, "I'm not a snot. You two are just crybabies."
As he looked away from his brothers, his gaze caught the figure behind them.
"No one's crying." George snipped back.
"Who's crying?" A soft voice asked behind him. He spun around with a glare, "I SAID- Cyra." His voice cracked as he took in her appearance. At the sound of her name, Fred leaped up to his feet, spinning comedically to her, "Cyra!?"
Cyra laughed, opening her arms open, "Boys!"
The younger boys watched the teenage twins practically throw themselves over the couch to get to her, taking her into their arms at lightning speed. Cyra held onto them, laughing harder, "I missed you too." She winced as Fred gave a tighter squeeze, but he noticed and loosened his grip quickly. She avoided the worrying stare he gave her, patting their backs, "Yes, yes, let me see my other boys now."
As soon as she stepped out of their grip, Harry was up and hugging her tightly. Ron wasn't far behind, joining the hug, "Glad you're back, the twins have been depressed since you left." She rustled his red locks, giggling, "Is that so?"
"He's overreacting." George retorted.
"Lying too, we were fine." Fred added.
"Missed you though."
"Terribly."
Cyra turned to them with a knowing smile, "I'm glad. Since you missed me so much, wanna help me out with something?" Fred stepped to her, a knowing look in his eyes, "Is this about.." He dropped his gaze to her side for a moment.
"Mmhm. I'll tell you all about it." She replied cheerfully, not wanting the younger ones to catch on. "But." She continued, reaching into her jean pocket, "I actually had a late Christmas present for you, Harry."
"For me?" Harry repeated confused.
"Yes, for you." She placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him over to the fireplace for a bit of privacy, "Remember what I said about our fathers being friends?"
He nodded, watching her unfold the paper in her hands.
"I found this in a box with old pictures. Asked my Papa if you could have it, which of course he said yes."
He took the picture from her, watching his parents hold him between them. They both looked so happy. He looked happy. Sniffling softly, he looked up at Cyra with a smile, "Thank you." She patted his head softly, smiling back, "Happy late Christmas, Harry."
At that, she stepped away, going to the twin brothers. Fred finished whispering something in George's ear as she reached them. She didn't have to wonder what it was, seeing George's gaze drop to her side, the worried expression forming. She ignored it, brushing past them with a cheerful smile, "Right then, we'll be off. I'll be sure to return them before bedtime."
"No pressure. Keep them." Ron replied. He didn't miss his older brother's glares as they disappeared out the common room.
There was a silence amongst the trio. She knew they were waiting on her to speak. Leading them in the halls, she spoke with a cheerful tone, "Do you two mind helping me wash my hair? I feel like I'm going to claw my scalp off if I don't. Cleaning charms just aren't.."
"Cyra." Fred said her name, his tone giving away his worry.
She didn't glance back, slowing down so she fell in step with them. "George, what's your favorite quote again?" He looked at her confused but waited for her to continue. She kept her gaze forward, speaking softly, "The King in the castle has ears in the halls, dirtied hands in the court, and eyes on us all?"
"You got it." George replied, putting on his signature smirk and beginning to relax his shoulders. Fred looked at them both in confusion, his brows furrowed deeply. George looked at him, his smirk falling for a moment as he said, "Wearing your white socks today?" There was a moment of realization. Then within a second, Fred was relaxed, grinning, "Actually, they're periwinkle."
Nothing seemed off as they passed the few stray students that stayed. When they arrived, Cyra went over to the barrels, tapping on one in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'. The lid slid open, and she turned to them, "Follow me."
Once they were inside, she let them look around. Fred and George hadn't had a chance to see her common room yet. George glanced back at the door closing, "What happens if someone gets it wrong?"
Cyra ran her hands over a large palm leaf, "They get doused in vinegar and are blocked entry."
"Brilliant."
"So how's this going to work?" Fred finally asked after minutes passed of them watching Cyra take out products and organize them. George picked up a brush from the sink, looking at it strangely, "You girls have so much stuff. How do you keep up with it?"
"We use drawers and bags." She replied, grabbing onto the tub to help her get up, gasping as she felt her side sting.
"So are we going to talk about it?" Fred asked. George approached Cyra carefully, looking at her with a worried stare, "Is the King still listening?" She shot him a smile, shaking her head, "No, or at least, I don't think so." She went to get a towel, "Thank you for understanding me, George."
"Of course." He replied cockily, "We didn't spend years making codes for nothing. Now, who was listening to us?"
She hesitated for a moment, glancing around the bathroom. There couldn't be any way he'd hear her in the girl's showers, right? That would just be creepy. Going over to the doors, she locked them, just in case.
Turning around, she stared at them both seriously, "I was attacked at the cabin." The brush in George's hand dropped with a clatter on the tiled floors. Fred was by her first, his hand reaching out to the bottom of her shirt before pausing in mid-air.
She gave him a look before reaching down, picking up the shirt enough for them to see her bandages, "I got away, but a piece of wood got me." Fred reached down, running his hand over the stained area, "You're bleeding still."
"Yeah, I'm technically not supposed to be out of the Hospital Wing yet." Cyra admitted weakly, dropping her shirt, "But I just couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to see you guys."
"How long have you been in the Hospital Wing?" George asked softly.
"Two nights."
"Why didn't anyone tell us?"
Cyra brushed past them, going over to the tub to turn on the water, "The King in the Castle.." She watched the steam rise, furrowing her brows, "I'll sound crazy if I say it."
Fred picked up the shampoo bottle, motioning for Cyra to lie back against the tub, "Think you'll sound like a loony Lupin?" She could resist a giggle, sitting down on the tile floor before leaning back against the porcelain tub, "I guess."
George grabbed handfuls of her curls, guiding them into the water filling the tub. As he watched the dark curls submerge, he whispered, "You know you can tell us anything." She stared up at the ceiling of the bathroom, her eyes catching the twinkling lights, "I know.." After a moment, she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes, "I think Dumbledore sent someone to attack me."
The twin brothers shared a surprised glance, before going back to what they were doing. Fred lathered the shampoo in his hands, before carefully applying it to Cyra's scalp, "If only we had snacks for this story." She hummed, her lashes fluttering softly against her cheek, "The other night, Professor Snape pulled my Papa to the side. He gave him this strange warning about wards and being careful who sets them."
George picked up the cup she placed to the side, filling it up with water, "We've heard a bit about wards, Bill knows a lot more though." Fred continued, "Being a curse-breaker, he has to know how to set wards and break them. Depending on the situation." Once he was sure Cyra's hair was properly lathered, he moved away so George could rinse out the bubbles.
"Hmm…" Cyra replied softly, almost sounding asleep. George tried not to laugh as he poured the cup on her head, "Weird that Snape would be worried about that. Who set the wards on the cabin?"
"Hm.." Her nose scrunched for a moment as she tried to stay awake, "Dumbledore did."
George paused, glancing at Fred, who was equally shocked. Filling the cup again, he poured it over the curls, "Then there might be something to your suspicions, Cy." Fred nodded, picking up another bottle, "Hate to say it, but Snape may be right."
"Doesn't matter now." Cyra replied, sounding more awake. As she opened her eyes, they could see the forming tears, "My home's gone."
George reached out to her hair, gently massaging her scalp like Fred did, "Shhh, it's gonna be okay, Cy." Her chest hitched as if she was holding back a sob, her eyes closing quickly. He continued to massage her scalp, hoping it would help her relax. Fred took the cup and finished rinsing out the rest.
Soon, her hair was finally clean. With her instructions, they squeezed out the water with a towel, being careful not to rub it roughly. George asked her to teach him how to brush her hair, so she did. Once he was sure of what to do, he had her sit down in front of him. Taking what she called a tooth comb, strange name, he worked it through her hair.
As he detangled her hair, tears fell down her cheeks. Fred sat in front of her, holding a cloth in his right hand. Each time a tear fell, he would wipe it away.
After some time, the tears stopped coming, and Cyra felt a weight lift off her chest. She felt like she could finally breathe. She relaxed into George's soft touch, feeling the comb slide through her curls with ease.
"Y'know, Fred and I used to think fairies made your hair." George said softly, picking up another curl in his hand to work on. Laughing in disbelief, she cracked an eye open to see Fred flushed, "Is this true?" He gave a one-sided shrug, looking at the ringlets that fell over her eyes, "Mum told us when we were younger that others had curls because fairies liked to play with their hair when they were babes."
George snickered behind her, "Of course, she said that about Percy. We knew it was a lot of codswallop."
"But then we met you." Fred continued, reaching out to touch a strand, "And we thought, 'A girl like her, she's definitely a fairies favorite.'" Cyra's cheeks began to warm, feeling a strange flutter inside her stomach, "That's so sweet..."
"I think you'll find we're always sweet-"
"-Ouch!"
"Sorry, there was a knot."