Chapter 35
Dark Memories
Lyra apparated just outside the Hogshead and began her approach to the school. She itched to pay a visit to Aberforth, fully aware of the delight her presence would bring him. With a quick glance at her watch, she noted that it was 10 in the morning—perhaps a bit too early for a drink, but a brief hello wouldn't hurt?
The empty tavern greeted Lyra as she entered. She expected Aberforth to be absent; clearly, he wasn't anticipating customers at this early an hour.
Walking towards the bar, Lyra hoped he might spot her from the back room. She wasn't surprised when she heard a gruff voice yell over at her.
"We're closed! Can't you read, you drunken halfwit?"
"Closed? Even for your favorite customer?" Lyra asked, a smirk forming on her lips as she recognized his voice. A sudden realization struck her: Aberforth was her father's brother, which made him her uncle. She pondered whether Albus had spoken of this revelation to him.
Aberforth emerged from the back room, his initial annoyance melting into a warm smile.
"Lyra?! What brings you here?" He inquired from behind the bar.
"I was meant to be at Hogwarts, official business for St. Mungo's, but I thought I'd drop in and say hello." She replied courteously.
"Well, now you have to have a drink—on the house, of course. After all, now that you practically are the house!" He exclaimed with a wink. She returned his smile.
"No need to call me as 'Uncle' or anything—Aberforth is just fine. Now, if my memory serves me right, a straight Firewhiskey, eh? Too early for a Lyra Peg, I suppose?" He asked, reaching for a glass on the shelf.
"Not today, Aberforth. Merlin's pants! I never thought I'd turn down a free drink. But I should get going—I wouldn't want to keep people waiting. I'll be back soon, though, to run this place into the ground...as usual" She joked, and Aberforth responded with a hearty laugh, bidding her farewell.
Lyra quickened her pace toward the castle, passing numerous students along the way. Many remembered her from the previous year and greeted her with polite smiles. Some still harbored suspicions, while those from Slytherin House gave her unfriendly glares. She couldn't help but smirk, imagining their reactions if they knew she was banging with their Head of House.
Lyra paid no mind to the looks and whispers as she approached the hospital wing. Her meeting was with Poppy Pomfrey and Aries Shorthorn. However, upon entering the hospital wing, she discovered not only the matron and Mr. Shorthorn but also Professor Flitwick and a short, toad-like woman adorned in garish pink robes—the pink spy!
Lyra approached the group confidently but remained cautious.
"Ms. Marks, how delightful it is to see you again." Greeted Professor Flitwick. Lyra graciously acknowledged with a nod.
"Mr. Shorthorn, how have you been?" She inquired, turning her attention to Aries.
"Managing, I suppose..." He replied with a shrug.
"Hem...Hem..." The toad-like woman cleared her throat trying to interrupt.
"And how is your magical progress?" Lyra asked Mr. Shorthorn, ignoring the interruption.
"Not as well as I had hoped. I've been waiting for your promised monthly visits, but it's been a while since I last saw you."
"I was waiting for Madam Pomfrey's letter—it seems there was a delay due to some paperwork entangled in pink...I mean, red tape. I hope everything is sorted out now?" Lyra asked, glancing at Madam Pomfrey, who offered a strained smile.
"About that…" Madam Pomfrey began, her voice wavering, but she was rudely interrupted by the woman in pink, who now stood in front of Lyra, demanding her attention. Lyra towered over her by at least a foot and had to look down to address her, though the woman clearly didn't appreciate it.
"Allow me to introduce myself, Ms. Marks. I'm Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister Of Magic." She said, extending her stubby hand, which Lyra shook out of courtesy. She remembered Albus, Minerva, and Severus bitterly criticizing the woman and her methods and explicitly warning her to be cautious around Umbridge if their paths ever crossed.
"I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I'm also the newly appointed High Inquisitor." She added in her sing-song voice.
"Are you listing down our qualifications Madam Undersecretary? My list is rather extensive." Lyra replied with a sly grin, and Umbridge appeared to take a step back, her confidence momentarily shaken. Aries could be heard snorting loudly at her comment.
"Indeed, who could question the credentials of the American Dumbledore?" Umbridge cooed, her words like a taunt, while Lyra clenched her teeth at the name.
"Now, I understand that Mr. Shorthorn requires additional magical care." Umbridge began.
"He does." Lyra confirmed.
"I disagree. I've observed his skills, and I believe they are sufficient for his NEWTs."
Lyra clenched her jaw, her desire to hex Umbridge growing stronger.
"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, correct?" Lyra asked. Umbridge smiled and nodded.
"And I am the head of the permanent spell damages ward at if not the, than one of the most prestigious hospitals in England, with an internationally recognized medical license, correct?"
"Yes…"
"Then please tell me, Professor Umbridge, which one of us is more qualified to make this decision?" Lyra snapped.
"You're a mere professor at this school, yet you've managed to delay his paperwork and create a significant obstacle to my patient's recovery. Now, you're trying to dictate his medical care. Is it just me, or do you not have Mr. Shorthorn's best interests at heart? As his professor, shouldn't your primary concern be his well-being?" Lyra questioned.
"He's perfectly fine and doesn't need additional medical attention!" Umbridge said adamantly.
"There you go again. Did you not hear what I said? Or do you need Madam Pomfrey to help check your hearing?"
"Professor Flitwick and I agree that—"
"I don't care what you've agreed on. Mr. Shorthorn, do you require additional medical support to regain your magic?" Lyra directed her question pointedly at Aries.
"Yes, I do." He replied defiantly, smirking at Umbridge.
"And do you consent to my medical assistance in improving it?"
"Yes, of course!"
"That's enough for me."
"Unless, Professor Umbridge, you'd like me to report back to the International Healing Society that the Hogwarts Defense Professor, with no experience in healing, is obstructing my position— a role they were desperate for me to undertake!" Lyra added smoothly, taking a step closer to Umbridge, who stepped back slightly, her face on the verge of explosion.
Lyra could tell she had thoroughly dismantled Umbridge's arguments. The woman had no ground left to stand on and no retorts to offer.
"Now, I believe it's time to get to work. We've wasted enough time." Lyra stated scornfully as Umbridge huffed and turned to leave.
"Well, you certainly put that old toad in her place." Aries remarked, chuckling. Lyra raised an eyebrow playfully.
"That was quite the showdown, Ms. Marks. I suggest you keep an eye out for her, though. She won't let this slide easily." Professor Flitwick advised.
"I appreciate your concern, Professor Flitwick. However, I've never tolerated bullies, and I don't intend to start now." Lyra declared firmly.
Following a daylong session with Aries, which Lyra believed had significantly benefited him greatly, she had a light dinner with the Matron. Afterwards, she carefully navigated her way through the castle, making her way towards Dumbledore's office.
"Cockroach Clusters." She uttered, prompting the large gargoyle to shift and reveal a revolving staircase leading to the door. Upon knocking, she heard Albus dispelling his wards and granting her entry. Albus was seated at his desk, engrossed in writing on a lengthy piece of parchment.
Lyra glanced around the office, observing the slumbering portraits of numerous former headmasters and headmistresses. She couldn't help but smile; the place remained as cluttered and familiar as she remembered from the previous year.
"You really ought to clean up in here, Albus." Lyra remarked, picking up rolls of parchment from the seat opposite him and settling down.
"I have a system." He replied dismissively.
Lyra smirked. It was astounding how she had inherited so many qualities from her parents, even without being raised by them.
Another knock disrupted the silence, and Snape entered the office, wearing an irritated expression.
"That infuriating woman wouldn't leave my side after dinner. She kept insisting that something be done about Lyra's visits, as if I have any control over them." He grumbled heatedly over at Dumbledore.
"She might have a crush on you." Lyra teased. He shot her a glare upon noticing her presence.
"Oh, you're already here, not fashionably late as usual?" He commented. Lyra feigned laughter and dissolved it into a pointed glare as he smirked at her.
"It appears you've ruffled Professor Umbridge's feathers on your very first encounter." Albus remarked, breaking the duo's silent looks.
"The way I see it, I've prevented her from meddling in my affairs." Lyra said propping her feet onto his desk. Albus shot her a look, and she rolled her eyes, placing her feet back on the floor.
"Be careful." Snape warned, though he knew Lyra was unlikely to heed the warning.
"Anyway, did you bring it with you?" Albus inquired. She nodded, producing a sizable vial filled with silvery wisps, which she had received via Burst that day. Moody had been dispatched to America to escort Slughorn to AIMS and ensure his smooth transition. Lyra had impatiently awaited any correspondence from him, and luckily, it had arrived on the same day she received permission to address Aries Shorthorn's medical issues.
Albus waved his wand toward a corner of the office, and a concealed pensieve emerged from the floor.
"What is that?" Lyra asked, eyeing the gem-encrusted basin.
"It's a pensieve—useful when you wish to revisit memories." Albus explained. He rose from his large winged chair and approached it, with the other two following suit.
Lyra handed him the vial, and he carefully uncorked it, pouring the silvery wisps into the basin.
"How does one use this?" Lyra wondered, observing the wisps blend with the liquid in the basin, forming intricate magical patterns.
"You simply dip your head in." Snape replied, waiting for Dumbledore to go first. Snape followed suit, and then Lyra replicated their actions.
She landed on Albus's right, and the grey fog dissipated before them, unveiling a vivid memory.
In this memory, a younger Slughorn sat at the staff table in the Great Hall, watching as Tom Riddle was sorted into Slytherin.
The memory swiftly shifted to various instances where Tom Riddle impressed Slughorn. Recognizing his potential, Slughorn continued to nurture the young man's talents. The memory transitioned to the numerous parties attended by Tom Riddle, where he never left Slughorn's side. It was evident that the young man had seen potential in a professor whom everyone else dismissed as frivolous. Slughorn reveled in Tom's attention.
As years passed, the memories showed Tom Riddle growing darker and darker. The signs were unmistakable. However, Slughorn appeared unconcerned, offering gentle warnings about the dangers of dabbling in the dark arts.
The swirling memories finally settled on one particular recollection—the one they were looking for. After a typical Slug Club gathering had concluded, people began leaving the spacious classroom. Slughorn strolled over to his desk, and as was customary, Tom Riddle lingered behind.
Slughorn jovially invited him to share a drink. Riddle accepted, and they sat down. With calculated finesse, Riddle proceeded to get the professor drunk and then broached a sensitive subject.
"Professor, may I ask you something?" He inquired politely.
"Of course, my boy, anything—anything!" Slughorn replied amiably.
"Sir, you're aware of my fascination with wizarding history. Being an orphan, I lack the understanding possessed by my peers. That's why I'm so captivated by it."
Slughorn nodded, pouring himself another drink with a rather heavy hand.
"During my research in the restricted section, I stumbled upon something intriguing. Did you know that the four founders infused a significant part of their own experiences and memories into creating the Sorting Hat? Not only that, sir, but portraits also function similarly in the wizarding world."
"What are you getting at, Tom?"
"I was researching various methods by which wizards retain aspects of their consciousness even after their passing..."
"...And I came across something I didn't fully comprehend. I read about a method for splitting one's soul, making the wizard practically invulnerable to death."
"Soul splitting? Tom, that's forbidden dark magic!"
"So, it does exist?"
"It does. I first encountered it in the restricted section as a young student at Hogwarts, much like yourself. However, I wouldn't recommend seeking out such knowledge, Tom."
"How exactly does one split a soul, sir? I'm only driven by a thirst for knowledge."
"You can confide in me, sir. It's purely for research."
"Just research?"
"Well, splitting one's soul is a violation of the natural order. To achieve it, you must master the dark arts and commit an act that defies nature—a most heinous act, murder."
The memory proceeded to show Slughorn explaining in detail the creation of a Horcrux and the horrifying nature of such an act. He also mentioned the names of wizards and witches who had ventured down this dark path, only to later regret their actions.
"I understand, sir. Thank you for enlightening me."
"I was thinking, sir, whether one could split their soul more than once."
"Why would anyone wish to do that, Tom? It's already horrific enough to do it once."
"But, to answer your question, theoretically, yes..."
"Can it be split into, say, seven parts? Seven is, after all, the most powerful magical number..."
"Merlin's beard, Tom! Dividing one's soul is already malevolent, but splitting it into seven parts!"
"All this is for educational purposes and out of sheer curiosity, correct?"
"Of course, sir..."
"I understand. Wizards of our caliber, do occasionally grow curious about such matters..."
The memory concluded after their conversation, and the three individuals withdrew their heads from the pensieve.
None of them uttered a word. The news they had just witnessed was profoundly chilling. It confirmed Lyra's suspicions, and now they had a knew: Tom Riddle had indeed split his soul into seven parts.
"How will we ever figure what he turned into Horcruxes?" Lyra finally broke the silence.
"Didn't you hear him?" Snape replied thoughtfully.
"He mentioned that he was researching the founders." Dumbledore said, walking over to his desk.
The other two followed him and took seats opposite him.
"What does that have to do with this?" Lyra asked, her confusion evident. Was she the only one not understanding the connection?
"Each founder had a priceless artifact—powerful, magical, and deeply personal objects that they used to aid others." Snape explained intelligently.
"Such as?" Lyra inquired.
Dumbledore waved his wand, highlighting four portraits in his study, the only ones that remained stationary.
"Salazar Slytherin and his locket...Helena Ravenclaw's diadem...Helga Hufflepuff's golden cup...and..."
"The Sword of Godric Gryffindor." Albus finished, glancing up at the glass case behind him.
"The sword of who? Are you saying that all of these are Horcruxes?" Lyra asked, her gaze fixed on the sword.
"Well...we have one of them, don't we? Let's destroy it right here!" Lyra exclaimed, drawing her wand.
"Gryffindor's sword...isn't one of the Horcruxes." Dumbledore said with certainty.
"What do you mean? Why not? It fits."
"That sword has never left my office, except on one occasion. When the Chamber of Secrets was opened three years ago, young Harry Potter killed the basilisk with the sword when it presented itself to him. Basilisk venom is as lethal as fiendfyre, Lyra, and the sword is made of goblin metal."
"Goblin metal absorbs the properties of anything that makes it stronger, so on the day Harry bravely vanquished the beast with the sword...if anything, the sword has the power to destroy Horcruxes." Albus explained.
"So that leaves us with four? The cup, the diadem, the locket and the boy." Lyra said, cutting Albus off. He smiled at her and shook his head.
"Five, my dear. You see, on that same night, in his innocence, Harry struck Tom Riddle's diary with a Basilisk fang." Albus revealed, producing the diary in question.
Lyra picked it up, examining the ordinary-looking book with a conspicuous hole in it. She recalled Ginny Weasley recounting the horrid story to her over the summer. The children had generously shared their adventures at Hogwarts throughout the years in exchange for some of Lyra's own tales.
"Where are we going to find these?" Lyra asked, still shaken by the memories they had witnessed.
"That...will require extensive research." Dumbledore replied.
Lyra nodded, understanding the gravity of the task ahead.
"For now, I suggest we delve further into Tom's history...I will send you an owl once I have more information." Albus concluded, and they wrapped up their meeting.
"Would you escort me off the grounds in case that dreadful woman comes looking for me again?" Lyra asked, turning to Snape. He nodded in agreement.
"Goodnight, Albus."
With that, the two departed from the office.
Lyra and Severus walked in a somber silence, each lost in their thoughts about the unsettling revelations they had just witnessed.
Lyra appeared profoundly affected by the information she had received, and Severus couldn't help but keep a watchful eye on her, concerned for her.
"I...don't think...I've ever..." Lyra mumbled softly, shaking her head as she struggled to find words to express her shock.
"This is perhaps the biggest challenge that has ever confronted me. In all my years as an Auror and a member of the 27, I've never encountered something so...vile...so disturbing...so dark." She continued, her voice trembling with disbelief. Severus sighed in agreement, acknowledging the gravity of their situation.
"I could definitely use a drink right now." Lyra said, her voice laced with defeat.
"I agree." Severus replied, his own weariness evident.
"Do you happen to have any Firewhiskey to spare?" Lyra inquired.
"In my office..." Severus replied silkily.
"Well, lead the way." She said with a smile.
As they made their way towards the dungeons, Severus's thoughts took an unexpected turn. His mind wandered into forbidden territory, and he couldn't help but entertain the notion that Lyra's desire for a drink might lead to another one of their intimate encounters. He understood that Lyra wasn't stupid; she had deftly predicted that their little liaison would likely recur. She had transformed it into an unspoken understanding. Instead of suppressing his feelings and desires, as he had done for years, Lyra had encouraged him to explore them. But did she want them as much as he did? No one had ever taken the time to understand him, let alone care about his feelings. Maybe he had never allowed anyone to do so. As Severus glanced at Lyra walking beside him through the silent castle, he realized that she was the first person since Lily who had tried to connect with him without ulterior motives. Even Lily had sought his friendship because she wanted to learn more about the wizarding world. But Lyra was different; she didn't want anything from him except his company.
"Shall we go inside?" She asked, bringing him back to the present. Severus looked at her, his mind still clouded by his carnal desires.
"Uh...yes..." He muttered the password under his breath.
Lyra smiled, waiting for him to open the door. She knew that after last year, he must have reinforced the wards to discourage unauthorized entry.
However, Severus seemed momentarily distracted. He reached out and tried to pluck something from her hair. She retreated in surprise, but he was quicker.
"You have something in your hair." He supplied, holding up a sizable phoenix feather.
"No, it's my quill! It keeps my hair in place!" She protested, trying to retrieve it from his grasp. He skillfully evaded her efforts, and her auburn hair tumbled freely around her shoulders as she struggled to regain her composure.
He watched as she attempted to arrange her disheveled hair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The typically cautious Potions Master seemed to lose his usual composure when it came to the woman before him. Using his long fingers, he gently brushed away the strands on her face. A visible blush began to colour her cheeks, and Severus found himself enchanted by her response. He had never been able to make a woman blush with a simple touch; it usually required an inappropriate remark. But this blush was different, not born of embarrassment but something entirely unique.
"Why do you use a quill to keep your hair up?" He asked, handing it back to her, and she offered him a small smile.
"Everyone does it. How have you not seen this before? Girls do it all the time!"
"Really? But isn't it risky? The sharp tip of a feather could accidentally jab you in the neck."
"Don't be silly, Severus." She chuckled lightly.
"I'm not. It could be dangerous. It seems rather senseless to be honest." He replied, shrugging as he finally opened the door to his office.
"Well, you know me—I have a penchant for dabbling with danger." She retorted with a smirk, earning herself an arched eyebrow from Severus.
"Are you calling me dangerous...?" He asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"Highly!"
Ron and Hermione walked with their wands at the ready, escorting any students found wandering the corridors after dark back to their dormitories. As prefects, they had their duties to fulfill, and tonight, their assignment led them to the floor above the dungeons. It was a rather uneventful evening, and Ron's boredom was evident as he stifled a yawn.
"Is this really necessary?" He grumbled.
Hermione, engrossed in yet another thick tome she always carried around, responded with irritation.
"We're on duty, Ron, for at least another hour."
"I'm bored, Hermione, and I'd much rather be in bed. Can't we just call it a night? No one will notice."
"Professor McGonagall will be doing her rounds soon, Ron! If she doesn't find us here, we'll be in serious trouble!"
"It's only McGonagall; we'll be fine. It's not as if it's Snape."
"Speaking of Snape...isn't that him?" Ron squinted in the dimly lit corridor, surprised and suspicious as to why Professor Snape was prowling about so late at night.
"Yes, and that's...that's Lyra, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, studying the tall red-haired woman next to the professor.
"What's she still doing here? I thought her session with Aries ended ages ago."
"Come on..." Ron urged, standing upright and beginning to follow them. An annoyed Hermione reluctantly caught up with him.
"What are you doing, Ron?" She hissed angrily.
"Following them. Where's he taking her?" He answered.
"Maybe he's escorting her off the grounds?"
"Then why are they in the dungeons, near his office, Hermione?"
"I don't know, Ron, and it's none of our business, really..."
"Is...is he...inviting her into his office?"
"So what? Maybe she's using his fireplace."
"Really, Hermione? She doesn't need a fireplace; she has a phoenix, remember? Doesn't this look suspicious to you at all? I think they're planning something."
"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald!"
"I'm telling you, with Snape, you can't trust anything!"
"Professor Snape is a member of the Order, and so is Lyra Marks. I think that's more than enough reason to trust."
"What are they doing?" Ron wondered as they observed from behind a suit of armor. Snape leaned in and plucked a feather from Lyra's hair, his behavior extremely peculiar.
"He's...he's...OH MY GOD!" Hermione gasped in surprise.
"What? What is it? Is he hurting her? Is he going to stab her with the feather?" Ron asked urgently, brandishing his wand, ready to defend Lyra if necessary.
"No, Ron! He's...he's flirting with her!" Hermione said, completely captivated by their Potions Master's odd behaviour.
"WHAT?!" Ron exclaimed loudly, prompting Hermione to hush him.
"What?! Are you sure, Hermione? It's Snape! How can he even think that Lyra Marks would be interested in him? She's not even interested in Sirius!" Ron protested, shaking his head. Hermione's theory couldn't possibly be true!
"Lyra doesn't know Sirius the way she knows Snape. She spent a whole year competing with him. I had a feeling there was something going on between them, but I never thought..."
"What do you mean, she's flirting back?!" Ron asked astonished, eyebrows raised.
"Merlin, Ron, it's like you're blind! She's clearly blushing. Don't you think she'd have hexed him by now if she wasn't interested?"
"Look at her; she's not shying away from him. She's smiling, and he's smiling back. Have you ever seen him smile, Ron?"
"What do you think he's saying to her? Maybe he's put her under the Imperius curse..."
"Don't be thick, Ronald! She obviously likes him too!"
"There's no chance...there's just no chance! She's too smart to pick an ugly-git like Snape over Sirius!"
"Sometimes, it's not about looks, Ron. It's about finding someone who understands you. Sirius and she would have never made a good pair. They have nothing in common. I think she likes Snape because they have history. I think she likes him because, somehow, he understands her. And I have a feeling she somehow understands him..." Hermione said, her voice filled with a touch of sweetness.
"That's absurd! Are you suggesting they're in love?" Ron retorted, disgusted by the notion.
"How should I know, Ron? But they're clearly very attracted to each other. That much seems obvious."
"What are you two doing here?" A stern voice interrupted them from behind. They turned to see Professor McGonagall, arms crossed, and her stern expression reflected surprise as her eyes fell upon Severus and Lyra.
"Wasn't your duty on the floor above?" She inquired without diverting her gaze from Snape and Lyra.
"Yes, Professor..." The two prefects replied in unison.
"You'd better return to your posts, then." She said sternly, ushering them away as she watched Severus and Lyra entering the office.
Lyra lay awake in bed, her eyes sweeping across the room's decor, which predominantly featured his house colors. The night had evolved from drinks in his office to an session on his desk, as intense as it usually was. Both of them had evidently needed a form of release after the unsettling revelations they had encountered earlier. It was a brief escape from the grim reality they faced. Their encounter had led them through a long corridor that seemingly linked his office to his quarters in the faculty tower. The castle's enchantments and magical architecture never ceased to amaze her.
She sighed and shifted, the new sheets enveloping her with his familiar scent. She inhaled deeply, savoring the comforting blend of herbs and the earthy scents that clung to him. Being a potions master exposed him to a variety of noxious odors, yet he always seemed to exude a scent that reminded her of a fresh rain-soaked forest clearing.
Sitting up in bed, she realized she was wearing his shirt, its fabric loosely draping over her frame. Her initial thought was to gather her clothes and leave, but instead, she summoned her packet of cigarettes.
"Lyra...why are you still awake?" He murmured, his irritation evident. She had been restlessly tossing and turning all night.
"I can't sleep..." She replied, lighting the cigarette with a snap of her fingers.
"Don't burn my room down." He muttered, turning away from her.
She rolled her eyes and tossed the sheets over him, an act of mild defiance. He shot her a glare over his shoulder.
"Not all of us are masters of our schedules! I have an 8 a.m. class tomorrow. Either go to sleep, Lyra, or let me!" He grumbled, flipping around.
"How can you sleep? How can you sleep after what you've heard?" She shot back, her eyes flashing with frustration.
He didn't respond immediately but eventually relented, sitting up beside her.
"What do you want to do, Lyra?" He asked, rubbing his eyes and reaching for a cigarette from the box she had left on the bed.
"I don't know...but something needs to be done...that boy is defenseless. How can we protect him from something like this? How can we simply just stand by and let him die?" She vented her frustration.
"I don't know, Lyra. I don't have an answer for you. But every little effort counts." He replied calmly.
"Then teach him how to defend himself, instead of ignoring him and treating him like you don't care for him. Be a good teacher and make him strong enough to fight!" She implored.
Severus sighed deeply. Her words made perfect sense, but given the predicament he had created for himself and his character, especially with Potter, achieving what she was asking for wouldn't be straightforward.
"I can't..." He replied, averting his gaze as his dark hair veiled his face. She sensed his walls rising, obstructing their connection.
"Why not?" She pressed, as was her nature.
"Because of his father...you...you...don't know everything, Lyra." He snapped tersely.
"Then tell me..." She said, placing her hand gently on his shoulder.
"...I'm listening."
AN/-Thanks for reading everyone! Hope you're enjoying the story so far!