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L'Appel du Vide by bowloforanges

Format: Novella
Chapters: 7
Word Count: 20,633
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Strong Language, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Substance Use or Abuse

Genres: Fluff, General, Romance
Characters: Scorpius, Albus, Rose, OC, OtherCanon
Pairings: Other Pairing, Rose/Scorpius, OC/OC

First Published: 06/09/2011
Last Chapter: 11/22/2011
Last Updated: 11/22/2011

credit to flyaway @ tda for the amazing banner!

A story of starry nights, paper cranes, awkward stutterings, not-so-first love, and rampant Français.



(on hiatus!)

Chapter 1: The Days
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credit to flyaway @ tda for the gorgeous chapter image!

“Okay, try it one more time.”


It was a late Sunday afternoon in March; everyone was milling around the common room, wandering the school grounds, or studying for their O.W.Ls or N.E.W.Ts. The latter I should’ve been doing instead of trying to teach my best mate a little French, but she could always convince me to do anything.

Deep breath in, heavy exhale out.

Jay may-pell Ei-lley.”

Tentative smile, noticeable flinch.

“You’re getting better.” I commented, tip-toeing around the truth and her feelings.

 “And you’re lying.” she countered, falling back onto the sofa in the common room; defeated.

 “Well, French can be hard for some people.” I comforted, taking a seat beside the troubled blonde, patting her on the back rather awkwardly and discretely admiring the smattering of freckles across her pale shoulders.

“It’s not for you!” She whined, looking up at me with her navy blue eyes that always seemed so full of emotion, so capable of convincing me to bend to her every will.

“Well, I grew up speaking French,” I pointed out, not for the first time, “so, of course, it’s easy for me. It’s second nature.”

“You’ve been trying to teach me for three years now, Loo-ee.” she said, deliberately over-pronouncing my name to spite me; she did things like that, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to get the hang of it anytime soon.”

I kept my mouth shut for a moment, not really knowing how to proceed or reply. I never said the right things. They always came out a jumbled, word vomit of a mess. I always spoke better in French. Something about the language flowed through my brain and out of my mouth more smoothly. Just my luck that the only people who I could realistically speak in French to here had all graduated. But then again, I didn’t exactly see myself having any deep discussions with my sisters anytime soon.

“The freckles on your left shoulder look like Cygnus.” I blurted out, mentally slapping myself. She pulled her pale eyebrows together, confused.

“The constellation?” She asked, placing her hand on the back of her upper arm and pulling on it slightly to get a glance at her aforementioned shoulder, twisting her head around. I simply nodded in affirmation, “Ah. I see, it kind of does. The Swan.”

She looked back up at me, dropping her hand from her shoulder to ruffle my dark blonde hair with it, grinning widely.

“You’re a strange one, Mister Weasley.” She said simply, mussing around my crazy waves.

“The same could be said for you, Miss Byrne.” I reached to mess with her hair too, but, in an attempt to avoid hitting her arm, as she continued to play with my hair, I somehow managed smack myself in the face; always the suave one.

Fils de salope!” I exclaimed over Eilley’s tinkling giggles; even without a drop of Veela blood in her she was more perfect than me.

I constantly wondered about whatever happened to those faultlessly graceful and overall put together genes that my sisters and mother possessed, but I seemed to lack. I was constantly stumbling over my feet and my words, running head on into walls and into problems. Dom always said that she was more Weasley than Delacour in looks, but I’m more Weasley in, well, tactlessness, clumsiness, goofiness and altogether imperfectness. I fear that the only traits I truly picked up on from my mother’s side are my face and perhaps my penchant for Ravenclaw.


“Honestly Louis, what am I going to do with you?” She asked, between gasps of laughter.

Je ne sais pas.” I shrugged meekly, running a hand over my facial injury.

“Hey!” she clapped her hands together, “I know what that means!”

“Maybe because it’s the French phrase you use most?” That earned me a smack on the back of the head, shortly followed by another, harder one.


Merde!” I swore, clutching my head, “What was that for?”

Bawn-jore Medwin! Thought you were off studying somewhere.” Eilley greeted, turning to our newcomer and friend.


“Well, I saw you hit Louis and thought it my duty, as a best mate to not only him, but to you as well, to bestow another slap.” he said, in all his Ravenclaw wisdom, brown eyes shining with mirth, “You know, for luck and all.”

“Makes sense.” Eilley conceded.

“Oh yes, it’s only logical.” I mumbled sarcastically.

“Well, you know me,” he shrugged, pulling off his jumper, and taking the seat on my left, “Ever the Ravenclaw; the epitome of wisdom.”

I scowled and dropped my hand, deciding to give up on trying to alleviate the pain left by my supposed “best mates”.


“So, how’s it going on the studying front?” I asked, throwing a casual arm around Eilley’s shoulder; carefully, so as to avoid smacking myself or her in the face.

She heaved a sigh as Medwin let out an unhappy grunt.


“That bad?” I almost smirked. I usually refrained from doing so because Eilley once told me that when I did I shared a resemblance with my cousin, James, and he’d been a hopeless mess; someone that I didn’t want her to see when she looked at me.


“It’s like Binns has a personal vendetta against me or something.” Medwin complained in his quiet, German lilted voice.

“And for some unfathomable reason, I cannot, for the life of me, remember anything Professor Longbottom has said in class for the last month and a half.” Eilley added, leaning her head into my shoulder, her hair tickling me just under my chin. I watched her carefully trace the floral pattern on her skirt with the tip of her finger.

“Honestly, I thought that being in Ravenclaw meant that you were clever and smart in everything.” Medwin sighed, undoing the first two buttons on his blue shirt and abandoning his usual poised, calm demeanor to adopt a new anxious look in his eye as he slumped back into the couch.

“I’m still one hundred percent behind the theory that the Sorting Hat was having some sort of fit when it placed the two of you with the brilliant student that is me.” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. Eilley is wearing perfume today, I noted curiously, taking in a deep breath, Vanilla-y. I slyly held her closer so I could get a better whiff (not creepy at all, totally normal) but she roughly pushed my arm off. I pouted.

“Don’t test me, Weasley,” she warned and for a fearful moment I thought that she perhaps heard me sniffing her so I firmly pressed my lips together to avoid saying something stupid, “I may be having trouble in Herbology right now, but I’m still doing brilliantly in Defense, even ask Professor Lupin, so I will not hesitate in hexing you. If anyone is the brilliant student here, it is me.”

I let out a fake exasperated sigh, and, internally, one of relief, putting my arm around her again and tightening my hold when she tried to shrug it off.

“Oh Lee, you’re so adorable when you threaten me.” I teased, causing her to blush over her scowl.

"At least I don’t look like a six foot tall twelve year old.” she retorted, pouting her lip childishly, thus rendering her accusation a tad ironic.

“I resent that.” I replied, flicking her noise gently, “I might be a little thin—”


“—and in a perpetual awkward stage.” Medwin interjected, eyes half closed. I elbowed him in the side causing a gust of air to escape his lungs. He rubbed his ribs and eyed me disdainfully.

As I was saying: I may be a little thin, but I am incredibly charming—” I tried again, turning back towards Eilley.


“More like incredibly mad.” Eilley interrupted.


“—and simply misunderstood, underrated, and unappreciated; especially by you two,” I gave them both pointed looks, “but it doesn’t matter because I know plenty of people who enjoy my sparkling wit and boyish good looks, so, in the end, your opinion means nothing to me.”


Uh huh, sure.” Eilley rolled her eyes.


“Of course, mate.” Medwin pat me on the shoulder.


Mon Dieu, the pair of you are so condescending. I propose that when we graduate, in three months time, that I never have to deal with you people ever again; deal?”


“Sounds like a plan,” Medwin yawned, glancing at his watch, “but I have to go meet up with Albus and Rose  to review for Muggle Studies.”


He stood up from his seat and stretched, pulled on his gray sweater, and bowed to us in farewell.

“It’s always a pleasure, my friends. Adieu!” He turned to walk away.

“Cheerio Winnie!” I called out; he flipped me the bird without even turning around, waving to a group of sixth years by the window on his way out.

It was always like that. Medwin had so many friends and I had so little. He was always the one walking away and I was always the one left alone, sitting on the couch. Totally a personal choice, may I add; definitely. It just makes it hard to find company in him sometimes.

“Is it weird to have him hang out with your cousins without you?” Eilley questioned. For a moment I forget that she was even next to me, my arm around her shoulders.


“Eh, not really; I don’t even take Muggle Studies, so it would be incredibly boring and unnecessary for me anyways,” I answered, brushing all other thoughts to the side. I looked down at her, a crooked smile on my face, “and I can’t just leave you alone now, can I? You’d be so lonely.”

I forcefully strained my voice on the last two words, dragging them out, and squinted my eyes. She just rolled her own blue ones, a ghost of a smile on her lips that she desperately tried to tuck away.

“Why do I even bother with you?” She asked, half-joking. I took into account the slight seriousness of the question, Okay, Louis, I psyched myself up, don’t go saying something daft like—

“—because I’m irresistible.” I answered cheekily. There goes the word vomit; never fails to embarrass me, even in front of one of my closest friends. Eilley sighed, looking almost disappointed (‘why’ you ask? I have no idea) before brightening up.

Well, now that you mention your irresistibility. I wanted to remind you that this Saturday is a Hogsmeade trip and I was wonderi—”


Salut Louis.” I heard a soft voice greet me in a smooth French accent.

Suddenly a pair of dark brown almost black eyes were in front of me; lashes fluttering, long chestnut hair framing an olive skin toned face.

Salut Amelie.” I replied, nodding slightly and apprehensively. Amelie Arlette: French, but not fluent in the language, sixth year, and pretty. Very pretty, I noticed.

“Hi Amelie.” Eilley greeted with a slight edge in her tone and looking decisively bristled by the disturbance. Amelie’s eyes never left my face as she vaguely waved in Eilley’s direction, smile frozen. I felt uncomfortable.


“Er—Comment êtes-tu?” I asked, inching closer to the blonde on my right.

Très bon,” she replied smoothly, a sharp contrast to Eilley’s butchered French of earlier, “et tu?


Pas trop mal.” I shrugged, scratching the back of my head. Eilley began fiddling with a draw string from my hoodie that was stretched and lying on my thigh.

“So,” Amelie slid closer to me, her knee brushing mine. A wave of sensations flowed through me: from attraction to unnerved, “ma grand-mère is coming to visit this summer and I was wondering if you could help me with some of my French…”


Cue heavy eyelash fluttering; girl could cause a dust storm with those things.

“Uh, sure.” I agreed, feeling a bit overwhelmed by her proximity.

“Okay, so, this Saturday? In Hogsmeade?” She asked, looking rather excited, hands clasped in front of her. I nodded unsurely and bit my tongue from pointing out that she looked a bit like a keyed up niffler who found its way into Gringotts.


“Oh! Merci, Louis!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around my neck. I cleared my throat awkwardly and pat her hesitantly on the back. I caught a glimpse of Eilley’s disgusted face, “You won’t regret this!”


She let me go from her death grip and skipped over to a group of girls at the base of the staircase to the dorms, all giggling madly as they ran up the stairs, peeking over their shoulders at me on their way up to their rooms.


I turned back to Eilley who was squinting angrily in the direction Amelie just left.


“All right there, Lee?” I asked, my eyebrows raised and gave her an extra squeeze around the shoulder.

“Yeah, she just bugs me, you know?”

“Eh, she’s not too bad.” I said, picking a piece of lint off her jumper.

“You have to be kidding me.” Eilley begged, “She’s like a cat in heat around you! She just practically sprayed around the common room! The girl’s got to be spayed.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at loud at the comparison.

“That is both incredibly funny and incredibly disturbing.”


“It’s true.” Eilley said stubbornly, trying to get me to take her seriously, and crossing her arms over her chest, “She’s obsessed with you.”

“What was it I said before… ‘my sparkling wit and boyish good looks’…?” I grinned smugly and chuckled at her aggravated expression, “I’m joking. It’s probably just because I’m one-eighth Veela. That’s usually the reason people even talk to me in the first place.”

“Loo-ee,” Eilley said sternly but softly, “you know that’s not true.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I shrugged, brushing away the unsavory topic, “but what was it you were saying before?”

A pale pink hue seeped into her ivory cheeks then, causing my brows to skyrocket under my fringe. Eilley…was…blushing again?

“Doesn’t matter.” She repeated.

O-kay.” I conceded suspiciously before unwrapping my arm from around her and standing up. I did a few toe touches and stretched my arms across my chest a couple times before holding an arm out to my friend, “To the kitchens, m’lady?”

“To the kitchens!” She agreed and jumped up from her seat, beaming a slightly relieved smile and hooking her arm through mine, all traces of red gone from her face. I kind of missed it.

“Maybe this time you won’t eat your way through the House Elves’ stock of cream cakes, eh?” I asked jokingly before being jabbed rather painfully in the ribs, “Tact. Right. I have that. Somewhere.”


The last thing anyone in the common room heard before the door swung behind us was Eilley’s tinkling laugh.


A/N: What do you think? This idea has been eating away at me for some time now. It is set two years after TYSD so Louis, Albus, Rose, and Scorpius are now all Seventh years. It will probably all be in Louis' POV; what do you think? Please review! I always reply :) Chapter title is a song by The Fairer Sex.

Here are the translations:

Jay may-pell Ei-lley (Je m'apelle Eilley) = My name is Eilley

Fils de salope! = Son of a bitch!

Je ne sais pas = I do not know

Merde = shit

Bawn-jore (Bonjour) = Hello

Mon Dieu = my God

Salut = Hi

Comment êtes-tu = How are you

Très bon = very good

Pas trop mal = not too bad

Et tu = and you

Merci = thank you

Chapter 2: I Stand Still
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credit to flyaway @ tda for another amazing image!

I think I should make a list of things that I absolutely, completely, inarguably love:


1. Lemon tea when you wake up early in the morning

2. Odd times of the day when you suddenly feel weightless; like everything is going your way

3. When Eilley has her hair down and I have free access to mess with/observe it

4. When Medwin’s emotions go beyond the range of a teaspoon’s (Thank you Aunt Hermione for that analogy)

5. Astronomy class


I guess you could say Astronomy was kind of my thing. It’s really what Eilley and I truly bond over; our fascination with the stars. I just find the fact that these balls of gas millions and millions miles away could be gone, no longer existent, yet still have their light shine through the black mass that is space, to be amazing and so perplexing. I can never fully wrap your mind around something so much bigger than myself.

That’s what usually brings us—Eilley, Medwin, and I—to the Astronomy Tower on clear nights like tonight, with the first signs of Spring showing in the form of warm breezes sending Eilley’s blonde locks into my face. When we’re sweating over our exams and stressing over where our lives are going to lead us after school. Its nights like tonight that I would gladly like to lose myself in the sky, in the constellations, and realize how truly inconsequential I am, yeah? Sometimes I forget what truly matters and then I remember, every time, that I don’t.

“I think that this is what I’m going to miss most about Hogwarts.” Eilley voiced, breaking me out of my stupor. I noticed Medwin start from the other side of the girl between us, obviously surprised by her sudden statement, “Sitting up here, just looking at the stars, with my boys.”

She smirked a bit then and pinched both of our sides, causing me to squirm and laugh quietly.

Merlin, Louis.” Medwin said in a slightly amused tone; he was never more than slightly-anything, “You’re like an overgrown child.”

“Aw,” Eilley cooed, pinching my cheek, “but we wouldn’t have it any other way; now would we, Adler?”

“I guess not.” A small smile appeared on Medwin’s lips then and I made a mental note to congratulate Eilley on this feat later, “Every group of friends needs an immature member.”

Oi! How rude!” I exclaimed, reaching behind Eilley to quickly flick Medwin’s ear.

“We really should’ve had another girl in this group. I cannot talk about anything vaguely sentimental with you two.” Eilley sighed, taking a swig from her butterbeer.

“That’s not true!” I protested, “I am very much in touch with my feelings! It’s Winnie here that seems to be allergic to emotion.”

Eilley rolled her eyes and Medwin flicked my ear in retaliation, causing me to wince.

“Well, since I seem to be the mature adult of our trio then I will breach the subject we’ve been avoiding all year.” Eilley said, never making eye contact with either of us. I anxiously watched her profile, “What are we going to do after graduation?”

Right after she asked I realized how odd it was that we never actually discussed this with each other. I knew that Eilley, one day, would like to write for the Daily Prophet, but I didn’t know if she had contacted them or anything. I also knew that Medwin wanted to go into Healing, but he hadn’t said if he’d gotten into any schools yet.

There was a brief silence, no one really wanting to go first.

“Medwin?” I posed.

“Louis?” He answered.

“Your plans?” I asked, tracing the top of my butterbeer bottle with my finger.

“Uh—well—I got into this good Healing school in Glasgow.” He said and, when no one interrupted, he continued, “So, I think I’ll be going there and then I’ll probably try to get a job at St. Mungo’s or a hospital back home, in Germany.”

“I’m proud of you, Winnie.” I said, giving him a slight punch on the shoulder and he just shrugged as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But it was a big deal and I pushed away the small pang of jealousy.

“I’m proud, too.” Eilley said softly, giving his free hand a quick squeeze.

“Well, what about you, Byrne?” Medwin asked, tapping his fingers against his thigh, “What are your big plans?”

“I have an internship at the Daily Prophet.” Eilley announced proudly and I realized that she probably had wanted to tell us this for a while now, “Hopefully an actual job will come out of it. I’ll be living in London and you know what, Med? There aren’t many apparition points between there and Glasgow. So, we can visit each other. You’re not escaping me just yet.”

Medwin softly smiled at her and ruffled her hair gently.

“I would never dream of escaping you, Byrne.” He said in a rare, tender tone and when I saw Eilley’s stunned expression I felt a strange kick-in-the-gut sensation.

“Anyone wondering what little ole Louis is going to do, eh?” I asked, interrupting whatever moment that was happening between the two, “And you two call yourselves my friends!”

“Oh, yes, please enlighten us, Mawn-sur Weasley.” Eilley laughed, turning to face me again.

“Hey, hey, calm down. I’ll tell you.” I winked and tugged on one of her wayward curls, “I’m going to work at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes for a bit under my Uncle George, along with Albus, this summer. Then, after that, who knows? Backpacking across Europe? Wait, that’s more of a Muggle thing, innit? Maybe I’ll go see New York City, perhaps Los Angeles. It’s up to the fates, really.”

“So, basically, you’re saying that you have no plans?” Medwin asked, raising an eyebrow in my direction. I leaned over the banister on the side of the tower before looking back up in the sky and spotting Cygnus, imagining the freckles on Eilley’s shoulders.

“Basically,” I shrugged, “but I’ll be in London so I’ll most likely still be your baggage this time next year.”

“Oh thank Merlin for that.” Eilley laughed and I let the sound roll over me in a wave, “Another year of cleaning up your messes.”

She lightly nudged my shoulder with her own.

“But, realistically, what would you like to do?” Medwin asked, looking almost worried.

“I don’t know.” I murmured, but then continued in a normal tone, “I wish there were more jobs that had to do with Astronomy, oui? I wouldn’t mind spending my days sitting outdoors on nights like this and just studying the sky.”

I looked back up at the stars and scratched the back of my head.

“That probably sounds stupide.” I said, shrugging as I swallowed a mouthful of my butterbeer.

“It’s not.” Eilley said, linking her arm with my own and smiling, “It sounds par-fay.”

“Anyways, you’ll need me around to help with that French of yours.” I said, wincing dramatically at her pronunciation. Eilley punched my shoulder with her free hand playfully.

“And, let me guess, you need me to tell you when you’re acting like a complete arse, right?” She asked.

“Well, of course.” I agreed, lightly tapping my bottle against the stone barrier for emphasis, “We also need Winnie here to keep us on track and out of trouble. Think you can do that, Win?”

“I don’t think so. You two can be overwhelming at the best of times.” Medwin said and when we looked at him confusedly he smiled a bit, “I was joking.”

Mon Dieu! Adler made a joke!” I exclaimed, running a hand through my windswept hair, “Lee! Take note of this. Perhaps write an article on the matter for the Daily Prophet! I don’t think Winnie here has made an honest-to-Merlin joke since we were thirteen. That time in Potions, was it? He called Slughorn a walrus and cracked a smile. It was monumental, it was.”

“Oh, quit it.” Medwin ordered, but I could see the smile that usually shone through his brown eyes.

Eilley suddenly turned and sat with her back against the stone railing. It didn’t take long for me and Medwin to follow her example. She was always sort of our leader when we were all together.

“Quote something for us, Lee.” I breathed, my eyes closed.

‘There are times to stay put, and what you want will come to you, and there are times to go out into the world and find such a thing for yourself.” She recited from the top of her head, just like usual.

“Who said that?” Medwin asked.

“Lemony Snicket, a Muggle author.” She laughed, nudging her forehead against his shoulder for a second before we all went quiet.

After a few moments of silence and star-gazing I sensed Eilley slump slightly into my side, her head falling onto my shoulder and I abruptly felt content—heureux even—and I realized that this is what I would miss most about Hogwarts as well; these moments of peace.

The thing is, the real world scared me, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it or not and it didn’t matter that I was a Ravenclaw, because  there was one thing I didn’t know, in all my Ravenclaw intelligence, and that was what I was going to do with my life.

Louis Arthur Weasley, son of a curse-breaker and a Tri-Wizard champion, had no clue what he wanted or where to go.


“Wake up, little Veela!” Someone with a deep, London accent yelled from across the room, effectively sending me out of my bed and onto the hard, wooden floor.

Merde!” I swore, rolling onto my stomach. I felt someone softly kick me in the side and I attempted to swat the foot away.

“You all right there?” The same voice asked as I heard Medwin’s familiar humming while he exited the bathroom.

“Morning, Asher. Did he fall out of his bed again?” Medwin asked in a calm voice that made me want to smack him across the face. I was in pain here. This was a sérieux situation.

“Ha, yeah. Nothing new.” Asher laughed before kicking me a bit harder, “Come on, Pretty Boy. You have a date today, remember? In Hogsmeade? We wouldn’t want you to miss it.”

Fermer ta bouche.” I groaned as I remembered the promise I made Amelie.

“What did he say?” Asher asked, sounding confused.

“He said: ‘Shut your mouth’.  He says it all the time.” Medwin informed him. I could hear the rustling of clothes as he put on his ritual jumper, “I’m surprised he hasn’t said it to you before.”

“Me, too.” I yawned, my face pressed to the ground.

“How are you feeling?” Medwin asked with a smile in his voice (although I doubt there was one on his face).

“Oh, Tout simplement genial.” I practically spat.

“English, please.” Asher requested, his voice now sounding farther away.

“Just great.” I clarified sarcastically, rolling onto my back, “Ow, I hurt.”

“I can see that.” Medwin said, “Maybe, if you want sympathy, or someone to dote on you, then you should go find Amelie. I bet she’s waiting eagerly in the common room for you.”

I groaned again.

“Are the French always this dramatic?” A new voice asked in a slight Irish brogue. I lifted my head to see the only non-Weasley redhead in my year, Keefe Connolly, walk out of the bathroom, furiously drying his ginger hair with a towel. I flipped him the bird from my position on the floor which only caused him to laugh loudly, “Isn’t Amelie that fit bird from the year below with the dark hair?”

I let my head fall back onto the ground with a loud thunk.

Oui.” I said.

“Then what’s the problem?” Asher asked as he tried to pat down his curly, sandy blond hair.

“She’s a bit—what’s the word?” I asked, looking towards Medwin.

“Overbearing.” He said in a monotone, searching for his shoes and not looking up.

“Yes, overbearing.” I repeated, “That’s what she is. I can deal with her, but I don’t think I can all day. Besides, I was originally planning on going to Honeyduke’s with Eilley before Amelie asked me to help her with sa français.”

“Wait a minute,” Keefe said, holding his hands out in front of him as if to physically pause this moment before turning abruptly towards Medwin, “Adler, are you going with Byrne to Hogsmeade?”

“Err—no. I’m meeting up with Albus and Scorpius.” Medwin suddenly looked up in my direction and we exchanged a panicked look.

We always went to Hogsmeade with Eilley. If I was busy, then Medwin would. If Medwin was busy, then I would. But we usually spent it together, all three of us, and now Medwin and I made plans without her. It can be assumed that she probably wasn’t happy.

“Merde.” I swore under my breath and got to my feet, hurriedly pulling on a pair of jeans and a random jumper that I found on top of the trunk at the foot of my bed.

“So, does this mean she’s free to—I don’t know—spend the day with this charming redhead I know?” Keefe smirked as he leaned against my bed post.

“Oh, sod off, Connolly.” Medwin said in a vaguely irritated tone as he waited for me at the doorway that led down to the common room, his foot tapping impatiently.

When I finally reached him he gave me a look, right before he turned to run down the stairs, which said quite clearly: ‘We’re screwed.’

Fils de salope.


“It’s not a big deal.” She sighed for what seemed like the fiftieth time. We had finally cornered Eilley in the common room where she was placidly reading an old book on the couch, “I’m perfectly capable of handling a day alone.”

“I can tell it’s a big deal. It’s in the way you’re looking at us.” I said as I pointed at her blue eyes before she swiftly whacked my hand away, “You’re angry.”

“I am not angry.” She denied, crossing her arms.

I opened my mouth to retort when I was suddenly interrupted by a pair of arms snaking their way around my waist.

“Louis, I was looking all over for you!” Amelie playfully scolded in a sugar-coated tone that, I could tell, made Eilley even angrier. I looked towards Medwin, desperate for help.

“I’ll—uh—just talk to Lee and—er— perhaps calm her down?” Medwin suggested, looking almost anxious; his sentences not as articulate as usual. He was sounding a lot like me actually.

“But I am calm!” Eilley exclaimed.

“Shouldn’t we get going, chéri?” Amelie whispered in my ear.

“What did you just call me?” I asked, in a daze from the impact of her breath on my neck and the strangeness of her calling me her darling.

“What did you call him?” Eilley suddenly asked.

“Don’t worry about it, Lee.” I said, placing my hands on her shoulders, “I’ll be back at, like, one. Okay? Then we’ll have lunch in the Great Hall together and it’ll be grand, yeah? So, stay calm. Think calm thoughts. Don’t hate me. Please.”

“And I’ll be back around then, too.” Medwin added, “So, yeah, don’t hate me either.”

“I don’t hate you. I’m not angry,” She then turned to me, “and I am calm!”

“Let’s go, Louis. I want to get a good table at Madame Puddifoot’s.” Amelie whined, her face uncomfortably close to the side of mine.



A/N: So, while the queue was closed I managed to write up to chapter five of this fic! Please review! (I always reply!) Chapter title is a song by the amazing band Life in Film (the song is practically Louis' theme song for the first half of this chapter).

Thank you JRose16, Ms V, and raznilla for reviewing! And thank you Ms V, GinnyPotter25, hogwartsfavoritecoupleh, and silver8 for favoriting!

Here are the translations:

Mawn-sure (Monsieur) - Mister

Stupide - stupid

Par-fay (parfait) - Perfect

Mon Dieu - My God

Merde - shit

Fils de salope - son of a bitch

Serieux - serious

Sauve-moi - save me

The next chapter is called The First Days Of Spring!

Chapter 3: The First Days Of Spring
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credit to flyaway @ tda for the gorgeous image!

I think I should make a list of things that I absolutely, completely, inarguably hate:


1. Pumpkin juice right after brushing my teeth

2. The feeling of sand in my clothes (something I often suffer whilst living by the seaside)

3. When Eilley is mad and plaits her hair

4. When Medwin goes into one of his moods that I can’t pull him out of for days

5. Madame Puddifoot’s (I should’ve listened to Uncle Harry)


I can’t even make a joke about how close I was to forcibly suffocating myself with all the frilly, pink lace that surrounded me. This was serious. This place was bringing me to the edge of my sanity. Plus, their lemon tea was much too sweet. I could practically feel the cavities making their way into my teeth; my beautiful, white, Veela teeth.


Okay, maybe I was being a bit dramatic, but I felt like I was being smothered in perfumes and my head was beginning to feel a little light causing me to experience this newfound insanity.


Vous êtes très belle.” I said, eyes closed and a hand pressed firmly against my temple in an attempt to alleviate the pain in my head.


“Oh, merci.” Amelie giggled into her tea.


Non.” I said, “Well, yes, you look nice, but that’s what you wanted to say to your grandmére, oui? ‘You are very beautiful’?”


“Oh, oui.” She set down her teacup and cleared her throat, “Vous êtes très belle.


Bon, bon.” I said, rubbing my temples and glancing out the window to my right. I spotted my cousins Rose and Lily strolling arm and arm down the lane, their flaming red hair bouncing and swirling around in the wind, and I yearned to be outside and walking with them instead of stuck inside this stuffy café.


“Is everything okay, Louis?” Amelie asked, reaching a hand out to place it comfortingly on my arm, but it just ending up being jarring on my nerves.


“Yeah, just—uh—I hate when Lee’s upset, you know?” I chewed the inside of my cheek and rapped my knuckles against the table, debating whether or not I should’ve even told her that.


“Hm, she seems a bit possessive of you, doesn’t she?” She said in a rather snide tone before taking another sip of her tea and brushing back some of her dark hair that I found myself comparing to Lee’s flaxen locks, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say she fancied you.”


“Wait—what? N-no, she couldn’t.” I spluttered, spitting up some of my tea in the process and earning a rather dirty look from a passing waitress, “That doesn’t even make sense. Eilley’s my best mate. No, no. Nuh-uh. Don’t say that. That’s just…étrange.”


“Okay, si vous le dites.” She rolled her eyes and instead of feeling slightly amused by the action, like when Eilley or Medwin—or even one of my sisters—rolled their eyes playfully at me, I felt a little irritated, “So, say that I wanted to say: Your broach is lovely—”


Eilley couldn’t fancy me, right? We’re mates. Mates secretly fancying mates was much too cliché for Eilley. She’d find it to be much too common or—I don’t know—predictable.


Mon Dieu, if my “condition”—as Medwin so affectionately referred to it—had an effect on her…I don’t even know what I’d do or say. Eilley was supposed to be the one girl that wouldn’t be affected by me; who could be my friend because she liked me and not just my face.


I was so sick of my genetics being the only important and central characteristic people noticed. I was sick of girls like Amelie tripping over their feet to spend the day with me (Okay, maybe I wasn’t that sick of it, but come on, I’m eighteen. Let me live a little.)


Victoire “embraced” the Veela within her, or at least that’s what she said.


Dominique ignored and let her loud humor overpower it. She would never let anyone only see her appearance.


And me, well, I’m clumsy and awkward. I’m tactless. I never say the right thing. Yet, strangers never seem to look past my face.


Maman said it was because male Veelas, or even male part-Veelas, were so rare.


Honestly, I just wanted to be normal.


“Louis? Louis?” Fingers were suddenly snapping obnoxiously and rapidly in front of my face, effectively interrupting my thought process, “Hello? Are you even listening to me?”


“Oh—yeah—sorry ‘bout that.” I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair, “You know what? I should probably get going so I can be back for one o’clock.”


“Really? Already?”  She pouted and I had to physically stop myself from cringing.


“Yup, desolé.” I apologized, standing quickly and grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair, “We should—uh—do this again? Maybe? We’ll see?”


I raced out of there before she could reply and I didn’t look back.


And I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that what she said before—about Eilley being possessive of me—was ironic, because, if anything, I was possessive of Eilley.




This type of weather was my favorite: sort of chilly, but with the warm sun beating down. Everything, quite literally, came back to life in the spring and I’m not talking about in late April or May.


I’m talking about late March, an afternoon like this one; one of the early days of spring where everything is just starting to wake up. You can just begin to see green buds sprout from the trees, the grass is starting to regain some of its color, and, slowly, everybody’s layers and layers of clothing start to disappear.


I took in a deep breath as I made my way to the school’s entrance, the air stinging my nose in a rather unpleasant manner, and patches of snow still littering the grounds here and there.


Even though my future was clouded with uncertainty and anxiety, I still just wanted this year to be over and the signs of spring—the melting of the snow or Eilley’s floral skirts—were like a God-sent. I could almost physically feel a heaviness be lifted from my shoulders; the stressful, yet always enjoyable, fardeau that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry beginning to dissipate into thin air, gone as soon as it came.


I would, without a doubt, miss the days I spent there, but I felt like something was waiting for me outside its walls; something life-changing, something différent, some sort of all-consuming experience that would inevitably turn my world upside down, you know? So, I was crossing my fingers and crossing off the days until June where I could walk off these grounds with nothing holding me back.


But then there was this relief, this happiness, when I found out that Eilley would be in London with me and that perhaps, just maybe, she and Medwin would be there when my life did a one-eighty.


“You’re back already?” I didn’t even realize I was outside the Ravenclaw common room until my aforementioned  female friend stepped out the door; she had her hair plaited and was wearing a large, gray sweater that I suspected was either mine or Medwin’s, “It’s only twelve. You’ve been gone for no more than an hour and a half. What happened?”


Vraiment? Only an hour and a half? Ninety minutes?” I asked in disbelief, “It felt so…much…longer.”


Eilley unexpectedly smiled and grabbed hold of my sleeve, pulling me down the corridor.


“How was Madame Puddifoot’s?” She asked in a mockingly sweet tone. I groaned.


“It was horrible. Sweet mother of Merlin.” I sighed, “I’m so happy I managed to avoid that place up until now. Never again, Lee. Never again.”


“And how was Amelie?” She asked, this time in a tone that was less sardonic and lightly laced with worry.


“Well, thanks to you, I can’t help but imagine the whole spraying around the common room picture in my head whenever I speak to her,” I cringed noticeably, “and, believe it or not, it’s not really doing it for me.”


“Ugh, you’re disgusting.” She laughed as we paused on the staircase, waiting for it to stop shifting.


Au contraire, you’re the disgusting one here.” I argued, “You planted the horrid image in my poor, innocent mind.”


“Oh please, you’re far from innocent, Weasley.”


“I’m…offended.” I gasped severely.


“You’re fraught with lies, my friend.” She waited a few seconds for me to reply before continuing, “No rebuttal?”


I lifted my fist beneath my chin and pretended to think hard on the matter.


“Eh, not worth it.” I shrugged. She rolled her eyes and I smiled, “So, where are you kidnapping me to?”


“The kitchens.” She chirped happily, leading the way to the basement after the stairs stopped moving, “I was going to get a snack when I ran into you.”


“And I spoiled your plans, yeah?”


“Pretty much.” She let out a fake, exasperated sigh, “Nothing new there.”


“It’s what I do.” I said as we reached the entrance to the kitchen, “Will you do the honors, m’lady?”


“Why of course, kind sir.” She curtsied and reached out and tickled the pear, the portrait swinging open to let us in, “After you, mone ah-me.”


“No, no. Ladies first.” I insisted.


“But you’re the pretty one.” She smiled, going in anyways.


“When compared to you? Impossible.” I laughed, making my way right behind her and tripping over my feet in my rush for food.


And everything just sort of fell into place; the curl behind her ear, the chill stuck in the fabric of my jacket, the way her laugh bounced off the walls, and the manner in which my hands always found an inch of her skin left untouched. It felt like when you finally get something right: passing an exam or riding a broom for the first time. It was a sense of accomplishment, spending time with Lee alone.


It’s just my body always felt so disjointed and loose; too tall and too thin. It was like wearing a jumper two sizes too big and the sleeves would go past your hands, always being pushed up to your elbows only to fall back again, getting in the way. I constantly felt excessively long, never really knowing what to do with the endless amounts of me and just ended up a fumbling, tripping mess; all sharp angles and awkward movements.


But then something warm and incredibly homey would come over me: the soft skin of Eilley’s palm as it cradled the side of my face for the briefest of moments, the smell of bouillabaisse, or the way Medwin would scoff at a typo in a book in that delightfully pretentious way of his. And everything would seem okay for the shortest span of time. I would feel proportional, in body and mind. My sharp angles would turn soft and my movements would become stable. I would feel normal and everything would fall into place.


“How much food do you think we can eat before Medwin finds us?” Eilley asked as she sat down at one of the wooden tables a House-elf conjured for us while they pattered around the kitchen, squeaking out greetings, compliments, and exclamations of: ‘Look, it’s a Wheezy!’


“I say enough to feed a small country.” I announced, taking a seat across from her, “Then, when we’re done, enough for said small country’s army.”


“Sounds like a plan!” She laughed, taking her hair out of the plait it was in.


That’s when I knew she wasn’t angry with me, at least not anymore.


Amelie’s words played through my mind and I mulled them over as I watched Eilley politely ask a House-elf for a plate of cream cakes for us and a lemon tea for me (“Only two sugars, please. No more than that.” She said) and a tiny part of me began to think that it wouldn’t be so bad (but a disaster, at the same time) having Eilley, honestly the loveliest person to have ever existed—at least in my humble opinion—fancy me. And it seemed so out-there, so—well—impossible, that I couldn’t help but kind of wish it were true.


See, my fascination with Eilley was almost like my fascination with the stars. I like to look at them from afar, but I couldn’t ever dream of getting any closer. So, I settle with a telescope and a chart; monitoring their ways as a friend, a peer, a classmate. I could never get on a rocket, like those Muggle astronauts, and mosey around space, making myself comfortable, because that’s not how it worked. That’s not how I worked.


I’m a mere observer and she was a celestial, impossible, and such an incredibly—well—charmant person who deserved people in her life that didn’t have the almost-cruel ability to manipulate her with their looks, their aura, their almost tangible inhuman-like presence.


But I was too selfish to ever give up something as incomprehensible and unattainable as Eilley Byrne. She was the cluster of yellow constellations on a black backdrop of sky, the thing I wanted to spend my life studying and try so damn hard to understand.


She was my best mate, my partner-in-crime, and I needed her, but I don’t think she needed me.




“Who has been tracking the moon on their lunar charts?” Professor Sinastra inquired the following Monday in her usual grating voice.


Eilley’s, mine, and the rest of the Ravenclaw’s hands shot up into the air almost immediately, while the Slytherins, who we had Astronomy with, slowly and wearily lifted theirs.


“Good, good.” Our Professor nodded, “So, I can assume that you’ve noticed something heading our way. Hmm…Mister Potter?”


My cousin Albus lifted his head from where it was laying in his textbook, looking thoroughly dazed; his green and silver tie askew.


“Mm-hm?” He responded, eyes half closed.


“Can you please tell me what you’ve noticed on your lunar chart?” She asked, pacing and looking out the window.


“Oh—er…” Albus turned towards me then, a desperate look on his face, and his impossibly-green eyes widened to twice their size.


“Eclipse.” I mouthed silently.


“A lunar eclipse, Professor.” Albus said, turning towards our teacher with a smirk on his face. Sinastra glanced away from the window to narrow her eyes suspiciously at him before continuing with her pacing. My cousin faced me and gave me a quick thumbs up before dropping his head back onto his textbook.


“Five points to Slytherin and when will this eclipse occur…Miss Byrne?”


“June the fifth, Professor.” Eilley answered without delay.


“Right on the dot! Five points to Ravenclaw.” Professor Sinastra smiled, her wrinkles deepening, “So, for the next few months you will all be pairing up into partners and be alloted certain days of the week when you’ll be allowed to use the Astronomy Tower to track the moon’s movements and other changes you’ll see in the sky.”


She took a deep, exaggerated breath before continuing.


“On the actual night of the eclipse I will assign everybody different locations in the school where you will witness the event. Only one lucky pair will get the Tower for that night.”


She discretely winked in Eilley’s direction.


Talk about favoritism.


“I will want journal entries of your observations and calculations.” She announced, “This is your end-of-term project and the last one you will ever have to complete in my class, so I expect impeccable work. Am I clear?”


“Yes, Professor.” The whole room chorused (minus Albus who was drooling on a picture of a nebula), “Good. Class dismissed.”


The Ravenclaw half of the class erupted into excited conversations, animatedly discussing how they would set up their journals or how detailed their charts would be. The Slytherin half unsteadily pushed themselves from their seats.


I watched Scorpius Malfoy roughly nudge Albus in an attempt to wake my cousin up. Albus swiftly tumbled to the floor, shouting something that I knew for a fact Aunt Ginny would pop a blood vessel over if she had heard.


“Potter! Detention!” Professor Sinastra screeched and Albus just stared at her confusedly, eyes glazed over, while Scorpius cackled as he ran for the door.


Bloody Slytherins.


“Partners?” Eilley asked as she began to pack up her things, her dark blue eyes looking almost anxious about my answer.


“Why of course.” I winked, a crooked smile on my face, ruffling her hair a bit and smelling the strawberry shampoo she’d been using since fourth year, “Now let’s go find that ever-elusive mate of ours, Winnie, and harass him a bit. You know, for laughs.”


“Aw, you’re so pleasant.” Eilley laughed, skipping ahead of me out into the hall.


“I can’t help but exude charisma!” I smiled, catching up to her and grabbing hold of her bag, slinging it over my shoulder, and sighing significantly, “It’s the Veela in me.”


“Of course.” She grinned and suddenly, inexplicably, I felt my orbit shift.


I unexpectedly found a new path around Eilley: her wide smile, her golden hair, and her inclination to quote obscure Muggle songs and famous authors.


And I wondered when she suddenly became the epicenter of my universe and why I didn’t really mind.

A/N: Yay! Chapter three! What do you think? A small, little, miniscule introduction to Albus and Scorpius (they'll be featured more frequently--hopefully!) Please review!!!

Chapter title is a song by Noah and the Whale


Vous etes tres belle - you are very beautiful

grandmere - grandmother

Bon, bon - good, good

etrange - strange

si vous le dites - if you say

Maman - mother

desole - sorry

fardeau - burden

vraiment - really

Au contraire - on the contrary

Mone ah-me (mon ami) - my friend

charmant - lovely/charming

Next chapter is called Some Constellation!

Chapter 4: Some Constellation
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huge thank you to flyaway @ tda for the breathtaking image!

I woke up with a headache; an incessant, cruel pressure in my temples after spending half the night staring at my navy blue canopy and thinking of—quite literally—nothing. My mind was blank, but bustling with this relentless, buzzing energy that continued to bounce about the caverns of my skull until the pink and orange hues of the sunrise began to peek in through my windows and callously mock me and my inability to sleep.

I felt personally victimized by the sun and everything it stood for: happiness, energy, and consciousness. Because I was feeling none of that and I didn’t want to. At least not when experiencing a splitting headache and having my cousins, Albus and Rose, chatter away on either side of me about some family event whilst Medwin and Eilley sat across from us, smiling at my distress and just, generally, being the best mates I could ever ask for.


(I’m sarcastic when I’m cranky.)


“I suppose we’ll all have to be there, eh?” Albus asked with his mouth full of jam-covered toast, having a lot more in common with his brother than he would like, and sending a sharp jab into my brain with his ruthlessly loud tone.


“What are you talking about?” I asked, pressing my fingers into my temples.


“Have you been listening at all, Louis?” Rose sighed and took a bite from her scrambled eggs, rolling her eyes at Scorpius who was sitting beside Medwin and sleepily sloshing around the pumpkin juice in his goblet; looking, altogether, quite vapid in the morning.


“Nope.” I admitted; popping the ‘p’ and letting my head drop against the table. Rose let out a rather disturbing sound of annoyance that was like sandpaper to my ears, thus causing me to groan in pain.


“Why don’t you go to the hospital wing?” Albus asked, some chewed toast falling back onto his plate as he spoke.


Loo-ee is a masochist.” Eilley said, lightly kicking my shin with her foot, “Plus I think he enjoys the drama of it all.”


Ha, ha, ha.” I laughed derisively, “So funny, so funny.”


“Someone’s in a bad mood.” Albus sing-songed, waving around his second piece of toast.


I grabbed hold of the food in his hand and threw it towards the Hufflepuff table as revenge for him stabbing my head with his agonizing sound waves. It ended up hitting some poor fifth year right in the face and causing her to promptly burst into tears as strawberry jam dripped onto her flawlessly ironed yellow and black tie.


No one said anything for a beat, brows rose in unison.


Medwin looked like he could nearly laugh out loud and I almost felt smug.


“Well, that was just plain rude.” Albus pointed out, fixing me with a hard look, “I mean, come on, that was a perfectly good piece of toast.”


Rose scoffed, emulating Aunt Hermione.


Ça m’est égal.” I groaned, lightly banging my head against the wooden table.


“Is everything okay over here?” Professor Flitwick appeared to have hurriedly scurried over after witnessing the toast incident, “Mister Weasley?”


Tout simplement genial, Professeur.” I stilled my head and lifted my hand to give him the O.K. sign.


“Well, I’m afraid I had to dock Ravenclaw fifteen points after you sent Miss Copeland—who you’ll have to send a letter of apology to—into hysterics.” Flitwick announced in that resigned sort of tone all teachers seemed to pick up as the end of the year drew near, “Just, please, don’t let it happen again or it’s detention.”


“I solemnly swear to never throw toast at Miss Copeland’s face ever again.” I promised and Albus held back a snicker.


Flitwick’s face turned a strange prune-y color before he stalked off on his little legs back to the staff table; obviously finding me to be a hopeless cause.


Really Louis, now you’re just being ridiculous.” Rose scolded.


“Please go away.” I moaned, pushing her down the bench, “Your voice is, like, a Cruciatus to my brain.”


“This is what happens when you don’t get enough sleep!” She rebuked, sliding back into place beside me.


“It’s true.” Medwin agreed, placidly sipping his milk, “You always get headaches when you get less than six hours of sleep.”


“You know what?” Albus said, pointing his fork from me to Medwin, “You two act like a married couple sometimes.”


“Too true.” Scorpius agreed, groggily nodding his head and scratching the side of his face. Vapid, I say!


“Ugh, I’m done with this.” I growled, lifting myself out of my seat (and not almost falling in the process, psh).


“Wait for me.” Medwin said, getting up too, “We do have Transfiguration together, remember? Eilley, are you coming?”


“I’ll be up in a mo’.” Eilley said, “I just have to grab some things from my dorm.”


I began to drag my feet across the floor, smacking Albus on the back of his head as I passed him, and making my way towards the door with Medwin at my tail.


“When’s the wedding?” Albus shouted before I heard a dull thud, “Ow. What was that for, Byrne?”


“For being a plonker, of course.” I heard her reply and I couldn’t stop the grin that appeared on my face.


Med and I travelled in silence for a bit. He was always a bit more understanding and knew that too many decibels of sound would cause intense pain to my brain.


That’s why I liked Winnie. He was always the sensible friend, the sympathetic one. I knew that things were hard for him at times, being one of six kids and the only Hogwarts student from Germany. His father wanted to send him to Durmstrang, the school he had attended, but his mother was English, and after Medwin’s father passed, she sent him to Hogwarts to experience “all it had to offer”.


But you’d never hear him complain about the months and months he spent in his first year struggling with the English language or the years he spent enduring the endless jokes from the meaner of the Hogwarts students about his accent or descent. Medwin wasn’t that kind of bloke. He never held grudges, gave cold shoulders, or wrote anybody off. He was genuinely a nice guy.


Yeah, his emotional spectrum was slim and every once in a while it could become impossible to evoke any type of reaction from him; he could go days without speaking, but I knew, if there was one guy I could always count on, it would be Medwin. I just hoped he saw me as that person, too.


“Can I ask you a question?” He eventually asked just as the throbbing in my head dulled down to a small twinge.


“Go ahead, mate.” I said, rubbing my forehead with my palm.


“Do you think I’m capable of emotion?” He posed, scratching the back of his neck almost nervously although his voice remained as calm as ever.


“Well, yeah, of course.” I told him, “Sometimes just in small doses, but you show it nonetheless.”


“Well, do you think I’m capable of emotions of the…romantic kind?”


I had to admit that I was taken aback by that. I always assumed that Medwin was able to experience such sentiments, but I never thought we’d ever—uh—discuss it?


“Well—er—yeah, of course, but, mate, if you’re taking what Albus said to heart I have to say that I don’t really swing that way.” I joked pathetically.


Excuse the word vomit. I can’t control it most of the time (or ever).


Merlin, no.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, “You’re not really my type.”


“Was that another joke? Mon Dieu! That’s like—twice in one week! I’m impressed.” I smiled, clapping him on the back before running my hand through my hair, “So, uh, is there a reason you have this new curiosity with romantic—er—feelings?”


“Okay, hypothetically, say that I fancy someone,” he started, looking straight ahead, “but also say that I think she fancies someone else. What do I do? You know, hypothetically.”


“Well, I’m—uh—not exactly an expert in such dealings.” I shrugged and he gave me an incredulous look.


“Louis, you’re part-Veela.” He emphasized the last word by gesturing to my face, “It can be assumed that you’ve had your share of romantic trysts.”


“Did you just say ‘romantic trysts’? Do people actually say things like that?” I asked in a harsher tone than intended, “Just because I have the ability to woo whomever I want doesn’t mean I actually do. I don’t take advantage of people.”


“Hey.” He reached out an arm and stopped us in the middle of the corridor, a surprising amount of guilt in his brown eyes, “I didn’t mean to stereotype, but I am your best mate. I do know about some of your more tender pursuits. I have met your girlfriends, you know.”


“I know, I know.” I shook my head and ran a quick hand through my dark flaxen hair again, “I’m sorry. I’m just going a tad bonkers this morning, as you already know, and, also, for the amour of Merlin, never say ‘tender pursuits’ ever again, yeah?”


“Yeah, I promise.” The corner of his mouth pulled up into a small, half smile and I noticed for the first time that Medwin had dimples, “So, any advice?”


“Ah, well, you know—the French—we know quite a bit about romance…” I trailed off.


“You have absolutely no suggestions as to what I ought to—hypothetically—do, do you?”


“Not even the slightest idea.”




Eilley and I ended up being assigned to the Astronomy Tower—and this is when the favoritism comes in again—on Fridays; which is exactly where I found myself the following week with my toes frozen and my eyes heavy with exhaustion.


“Do you ever sleep anymore?” Eilley questioned after I yawned quite loudly whilst we set up the telescope.


“Sleep? What is this ‘sleep’ you speak of?” I posed and slumped against cold stone wall, shivering and wrapping my arms around my body, “Why is it so bloody cold?”


“Because it’s March?” She laughed, putting her hair up into a bun after a particularly strong wind whipped around us.


“Why are you putting your hair up?” I whined, closing my eyes.


“It’s going to get all over the place and be messy and become just a general annoyance.” She calmly explained.


“But I like it that way.” I said, wanting to accio the words back right as I said them and kept my eyes closed so as to avoid seeing her expression.


There was an awkward pause before she cleared her throat.


“Well, get your arse up.” She demanded, grabbing hold of my hands and trying to pull me up, “You’re better at charting the stars than me.”


Noo.” I whined as I got to my feet, hunched over, and buried my face in her neck, “You can’t make me!”


I watched as the light from the jars of blue flames that I conjured earlier flickered across Eilley’s shoulders; right over the place where I knew my favorite group of freckles resided. I let my fingers ghost over the fabric of her jacket, outlining the pattern of Cygnus that I had long memorized and let my eyes close again for a brief moment.


For the past week my insomnia had continued and whenever I did manage to catch a few hours of sweet, sweet slumber my brain would continue to pulse with a force that kept me in this half-awake state. The only new development was that, during the last few nights, quick flashes of images would begin to flicker behind my eyelids; bursts of gold or a blazing blue that would sear into my mind and keep me questioning my sanity for the rest of the day.


Eilley placed her palm on the side of my face, pushing my hair back gently.


“You’re a mess, Loo-ee.” She sighed, her warm breath hitting my cheek as she began to lightly trace one of my closed eyelids with the pad of her thumb and I felt my chest tighten as I subconsciously realized that I could count the months I had left at school on one hand.


“Don’t I know it.” I groaned into her neck, grabbing a fistful of her jacket at her back to keep myself up.


“This isn’t a very comfortable position, is it?” She asked, patting a hand over the curve of my spine.


“Not at all,” I sighed, “but I kind of like it.”


“Well, we have to get these journal entries done, whether you like it or not.” She laughed and pushed me away playfully as she turned to look out the telescope. I groaned in frustration and poked the small of her back, earning a small giggle.


“Miss Eilley is ticklish?!” I gasped dramatically, hand over my heart.


Loo-ee…don’t even think about it.” She faced me again, pointing her finger in my face.


“Think about what?” I asked innocently, stepping a bit closer and now feeling more awake as a crisp breeze blew around us; strands of her yellow hair escaped the McGonnagall-esque bun and began to swirl through the air, vibrant against the dark blue of the sky.


“You know exactly wha—” She didn’t get to finish her sentence because I abruptly lunged forward and began to mercilessly wiggle and worm my fingers at her sides as she tried to protest between giggles, “Sto-op it! Loo-oo-ee, I’m g-oing to hurt-t you!”


“You wouldn’t dream of it!” I laughed, never ceasing in my attack in causing her to squirm and thoroughly enjoying her breathless laughter.


I don’t know how it happened—whether she tripped over the telescope stand or I tripped over my big, stupid Weasley feet—but soon the air was rushing past my ears and I found myself falling flat on my back with Eilley landing right on top of me and sending all the oxygen out of my lungs in one short burst.


“Merlin! Loo-ee, are you okay?” Eilley asked, her hands at either side of my head, lifting her weight off of me as she stared into my eyes anxiously.


Why do I always fall?” I muttered in a strained voiced as I looked back up at my friend, her hair now completely free of its restraints and getting tangled up in the stars behind her head.


Just how I liked it.


She just laughed out loud. It was a new kind of laugh, one I didn’t often hear anyone use. It was loud, careless, and just seemed so happy that I couldn’t stop myself from wheezing and laughing along with her.


“And I restate: you are a mess.” She giggled, some of her golden waves tickling my face.


“And I reiterate: don’t I know it.” I smiled back at her and she rolled her blue eyes teasingly.


I reached out, without even thinking about it, and tucked her hair behind her ear—recalling when my cousin, James, told me girls liked that sort of thing—and placed my hand on the side of her neck, smiling kindly up at her.


“Uh—uh Loo-ee?” She stuttered, pink blossoming across her cheekbones in such a pleasing way that I had to brush my fingertips across the tinged skin, “Sh-should we—uh—get to work?”


“Yeah, probably.” I acknowledged and dropped my hand, still smiling as she rolled herself off of me and swiftly got to her feet, frantically pushing back her hair and pointedly not looking my way as I stood, “Let’s get to work, partner!”


And from then on I felt wide awake, like someone suddenly Imperiused me to be this energetic, jumping-all-about guy; ruffling Lee’s platinum hair and excitedly calculating the positions of the Earth and Moon, sporadically pointing out my favorite constellations. The blush quickly left Lee’s face and eventually she stopped stuttering, but there was still a nervous energy about her and it was confusing me to no end.


“I think you’ve reached a point called overtiredness.” She said, tugging on the end of a drawstring to my sweatshirt I had on beneath my jacket, “You’re jittery.”


“Overtiredness? Jittery?” I asked, feigning confusion and tapping my fingers against the telescope rapidly, “Non, I don’t think so. I’m feeling perfectly rested and energized. I feel free.


“‘Nobody is free; even the birds are chained to the sky.’” She half-sang, “Bob Dylan.”


“Freedom is more of a state of mind, in my opinion.” I said, looking through the lens of the telescope, “I don’t think it can totally be a—uh—physical thing.”


“How…eloquent.” She laughed a little shakily, “You over think things, Loo-ee. You just need to relax. Things will work out. I promise.”


“I am relaxed, honestly. Not over thinking anything nor worried about anything.”


Loo-ee, we’ve been mates for seven years. I know you’re worried.” She leaned over the stone barrier, her chin lifted to the sky as she carefully observed the moon, “You’ll find your way, and I know you will. You just need a little push is all and then you’ll be happy.”


“I am happy.” I insisted, forcibly stretching a wide smile over my face, “Look at me, all smiles!”


“You’re not happy, Louis.” She sighed, “You’re…on edge, all the time, and you’re scared and I get that. I really do.”


“No, I don’t think you do.” I replied, lightly scuffing my shoe against the stone of the tower, “Know what? Let’s not talk about this.”


“You’ll have to eventually and I’ll be here when you realize that.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and let it slide down my arm until I held it in my own.


We stayed out there until four in the morning. I brushed aside our rather unpleasant conversation and concentrated on Lee; enjoying the time I spent with my sun in the middle of the night and living my Eilley-centric life, blissfully unaware of everything that was happening on Earth and the messes I was constantly creating.


A/N: Chapitre quatre! I really like Louis. I really, really do. How about you? Do you like Louis? Or Medwin, Eilley, Albus, etc? Please review! Chapter title is a song by the band Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin.


Ça m’est égal - I do not care

Tout simplement genial, Professeur - Simply brilliant, Professor

Mon Dieu - My God

Amour - love

Next chapter is called How Are We.

Chapter 5: How Are We
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thank you to flyaway @ tda for the image of the ever-handsome Scorpius!

 "You have to stop whatever it is that you’re doing.” Rose had suddenly accosted me in the library on Tuesday.


It was April the second.


Only a little more than two months left and then my future and I were going to come to a head-on collision.


I wasn’t worried. Nope, not at all.


“What in the name of all that is charmed and transfigured are you talking about?” I asked, pulling an Astronomy book down from a particularly high shelf, effectively knocking down half the row of books and sending them onto the heads of a few innocent first years that looked at me, eyes brimmed with tears, as if I was Voldemort reincarnated, “Zut! I’m so sorry!”


They only cowered in fear and hunched their bodies closer together. Rose rolled her eyes in annoyance and levitated the books back into their places before leaning in closer to make our conversation more private (because the first years were so interested and everything).


“With Eilley.” She clarified, although it only confused me more.


“Wait—what?” I tucked the book under my arm and leaned against the shelf, “Did Eilley say I was doing something to her…?”


“Well, no,” Rose admitted, “but you’re being odd and she’s being odd and you’re being odd together.”


“Well, that really cleared things up.” I laughed quietly and began to make my way to the ancient Madame Pince’s desk to check out the book.


The primordial librarian eyed me up and down when I placed the hardback in front of her, trying to assess whether or not I could be trusted with one of her beloved volumes. I watched as her beady eyes fixated on the Ravenclaw crest on my robes before nodding curtly.


“Will that be all, Mister Weasley?” She croaked, placing a slip of paper into the book that appeared to have a countdown on it until the date it was due back.


“Yes. Merci, Madame.” I answered in my most polite tone. I heard Rose scoff softly behind me.


“Very well then, good day.” She nodded again and gestured for me to leave with a wave of her hand. I saluted her, grabbed hold of Rose’s robe, and walked briskly out of the library.


“Explain some more, s’il te plait.” I ordered once we were out in the corridor. I placed the book in my rucksack before slinging it over my shoulder.


“Well, I feel as though you’re leading Lee on.” She said in a big rush.


“That…doesn’t make any sense.” I said; my brows furrowed, “Lee’s my best mate. How am I leading her on?”


“You’re being really touchy-touchy lately—”


“But I’m always like that with Eilley.” I interrupted.


“And, I don’t know, you get this doe-eyed look whenever she’s around.” She explained, adapting an almost wistful expression, “Like, she’s the only person in the room, the only person in the world. It’s really cute actually—”


“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I walked in front of Rose and turned around to face her, my hands up to stop her walking, “You’re making it sound like one of those sappy Muggle movies that you and Aunt Hermione watch with all the girl cousins over the summer hols. There’s nothing romantic going on between me and Lee. I repeat: nothing.”


Ugh.” Rose groaned, actually going so far as to stomp her foot against the floor in her fit of frustration, “For a Ravenclaw you can be really dim—”


Oi!” No one questions my Ravenclaw intelligence!


“Hush!” She suddenly got a blazing look in her brown eyes that shut me up, “What I’m trying to say is that while you may not see these things as romantic—which they totally are—Eilley may see it that way and I don’t want my friend to get hurt by my stupid, Veela cousin.”


“Ouch.” I muttered. She had to use the V-word. Why did everything always come back to that?


“Besides, Medwin fancies Eilley.” Rose said casually, checking her cuticles and, overall, looking quite unaware of the fact that I felt as though my chest had collapsed and fallen somewhere around my feet.


“Repeat that.” I said, hand in my hair and scratching furiously at my scalp.


Medwin. Fancies. Eilley.” Rose slowly reiterated, looking at me like I had gone insane; which, I suppose, I sort of did, “Don’t tell me you didn’t know this. It’s so obvious! Medwin and you are best mates for Circe’s sake! I’m pretty sure he’s fancied her since, like, fifth year.”


“No, he didn’t tell me this.” I whispered mostly to myself, looking over my cousin’s head and out the window where I could see the Astronomy Tower.


“Well, now that you know, will you stop treating Eilley like your girlfriend?” Rose pleaded, “I’m sort of rooting for Meilley.”


“Meilley?” I asked, feeling genuinely confused.


“It’s their couple name.” Rose told me, all smug-like, “And the only way Meilley can happen if you start acting more like a brother and less like a suitor.


“What about Leilley?” I asked.


“What’s Leilley?”  It was now Rose’s turn to be confused.


“Louis and Eilley.” I elucidated, eyes wide. What about me? I thought, I think I’m perfectly capable of being rooted for.


“Oh, Louis.” Rose sighed, smoothing out a crease in my shirt in a motherly way, in a Rose-y way, “We both know that you don’t feel that way for Eilley. You just can’t help but act that way around her.”


She let out a long breath before continuing.


“You see, it’s expectations versus reality. Everybody expects it to be Leilley, but, in reality, it could never work out. In the end, the girl always falls in love with the quiet, deep brooder. She doesn’t end up with the dashing, part-Veela.  It’s just not how it works.”


She should’ve just said: ‘That’s not how you work.’ Because I know that was what she was thinking.


Irresponsible, undecided, and immature Louis, the “dashing, part-Veela”, can never be expected to end up with the girl, because he would just inevitably muck it all up and I couldn’t really argue with her on that.




Greetings mon frère,

It’s been so long since we’ve last spoken. Tu me manques! Do you miss me?

Well, of course you do. (I just imagined you rolling your eyes rather dramatically whilst I was writing that.)

How’s good ol’ Hoggy-Hogwarts? Studying for your N.E.W.Ts and such? Of course you are, you crazy Ravenclaw, you. Don’t hurt yourself with those late-night-reviews that Medwin drags you into.

How is Meddie, by the way? What about Eilley? Are you still her lapdop?

Well, of course you are. (I just laughed out loud. Maman and Père are looking at me like I’m bonkers. They should know by now that I am!)

James is still a hopeless mess, Victoire is going through these crazy mood swings—we’ll all be happy when this pregnancy is over (poor Teddy), and I came close to losing my job again for the third time this month! My boss hates me, but what can I do?

At least you love me, right? Right?

Je t’aime (I’m genetically programmed to. It’s a curse rather than a gift.)

Votre soeur préférée,


p.s. Maman sends her love and Père says he wishes you luck on these last few months of seventh year! You’re almost done, little one! So proud!


I probably reread the letter ten times. It seemed so normal, so Dominique that I felt a strange ache to be back home. I hadn’t felt truly homesick whilst at Hogwarts since—I think—second year, but right then I just wanted to go back to Shell Cottage. I wanted to sit on the rocky beach and watch the grey ocean’s waves crash onto the shore and think, uh, deep thoughts, or you know, something like that. Yeah.


“What do ya got there?” Albus sat down next to me in Potions, leaning over my shoulder to catch a glimpse at the parchment in my hands. After skimming it quickly, he groaned in annoyance, “Bloody hell. Of course James is still a mess.”


But I didn’t feel like talking about James.


“Does Medwin fancy Eilley?” I asked out of nowhere. I don’t even remember thinking of the question beforehand; it just, well, word-vomited out of me. I snuck a glance at the previously mentioned German friend who was sitting at the front of the class next to Socrpius.


Albus just blinked at me for a moment, collecting his thoughts.


“I vaguely recall Rose telling me that. Last year, I think.” Albus shrugged, promptly dropping his supplies onto the desk, his quill rolling onto the floor, “Medwin doesn’t exactly share much with me.”


“He doesn’t exactly share much with anyone.” I pointed out, “Except Rose, apparently.”


“I don’t actually think Medwin ever told her. She just said she had an ‘inkling’ or something.”




Unfortunately Rose’s ‘inklings’ usually turn out to be true.


Albus nodded. I knew he was growing tired of the conversation already. I was growing tired too, but not of our bavardage.


I was growing tired of missing things; missing my family, my home, the times when I wasn’t constantly in a shadow of uncertainty. I was tired of not knowing why my best mate didn’t tell me he fancied my other best mate. I was tired of staring at my canopy until the early hours of the morning. I was tired of Professor Flitwick badgering me about careers.


And, of course, I was—quite literally—tired.




I’m not a very visionary person by nature. Despite the fact that I’m a Ravenclaw, I have little to no ambition. I like to learn, but I have nothing to do with the information that I end up acquiring. The thing is that I mostly enjoy learning inconsequential things.


For example: you might know a little bit about Vincent van Gogh. You probably know of his painting Starry Night and the fact that he was a little mad and gave a slice of his ear to some bird at a brothel. But I know so much more.


The summer before my fifth year I spent days and days reading up on the life of Vincent van Gogh. I know what year he was born (1853), where he was born (Zundert, Netherlands), when he travelled to Paris (1886), who fell in love with him (Margot Begemann), and his last words:


“La tristesse durera toujours.” He said on his deathbed. This sadness will last forever.


But, what am I ever going to do with this information? I’m not exactly an arty type. I just found Vincent’s life interesting; turning his pain into beauty and such. I thought it was lovely. Well, not lovely, but remarkable in its own way.


But despite my—clearly—unmotivated character and brain full of useless facts, I didn’t stop from worrying and pacing and just, by and large, freaking out. While everyone calmly thinks through how they’re going to approach their goals I can be found running around madly, eyes wide and heart thrumming. I’ve never had a dream. I’ve never had something to grasp onto and hope with all my might that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to do it, because I’ve never known what that thing was.


I felt like I was hanging by a string and my fingers were slipping; so incredibly lost and confused.


I was confused by how I was going to make a living, make my parents proud, and the damn sinking feeling in my chest.


But I was also confused by this precipice I seemed to be standing on; the edge of this great, big, unidentifiable thing. It seemed to creep around the corners of my mind and it was what was keeping me awake. It had me thinking that perhaps that all-encompassing, life-changing event wasn’t something that was going to happen once I left Hogwarts, but would occur while I was still within the walls of the school.


All I was completely aware of at that moment was the fact that everything seemed so much less important, so miniscule and petty, when I looked up into the vast sky. I snuck out of the castle—Marauder’s Map (freshly pilfered from Albus’ bag during Potions class) in hand—and onto the banks, but not the sand (never the sand), of the Black Lake and let myself be engulfed by the endless sky, the blanket of stars.


I was sick of thinking and worrying. I just wanted to lie there and mentally name the constellations above my head. I wanted to surround myself with something I was completely sure of.


“I thought I’d find you out here.” Oh, look, just my luck. Something I’m not sure of.


Bonjour Eilley.” I greeted the familiar voice but didn’t turn to see the face it belonged to. I watched, out of the corner of my eye, as she settled into place next to me.


“Ursa Minor is always the first constellation I see.” She said, pointing towards the Little Dipper, “I have no idea why.”


Her voice felt like a mist that clung to my skin and I sensed myself lean over that precipice—that undeniable, but completely metaphorical ledge—just a little bit more.


“It’s one of my favorites.” I admitted, running my hand through the still-dry grass beneath us, “It was one of the first I learned to properly see. Before Ursa Minor the sky just seemed like a chaotic muddle of dots, yeah? But then, all of a sudden, there were stories up there and it was so much more than I had ever expected.”


“I know what you mean.” She said, her voice quiet.


“How’d you get out here, by the way?” I asked, turning to her for the first time that night. Her face half hidden in shadows, “It’s almost midnight.”


“Well,” she smirked, “when you’re friends with the likes of Albus Potter and Louis Weasley you learn a thing or two about the castle and it’s ‘secret passages’.”


“Makes sense.” I conceded, smiling.


“Sure does.” She laughed quietly, her breath coming out as fair puffs that mingled in with the white of the moon.


“Eilley?” I started.


“Mm-hm?” She answered, looking out across the lake.


“Do you think Medwin fancies you?” I asked and she quickly turned to face me.


“Don’t ask that.” She groaned, “Please, never ask that.”




“I can’t—it’s just—I—” She let out a deep breath, “I don’t want to think that Medwin could fancy me. I’ve heard enough of it from Rose and her ‘Meilley’ obsession. Medwin’s my mate, you know?”


I nodded my head slowly, processing her words as they came out of her mouth.


“I feel like all these complications come about when a mate starts fancying a mate and it’s so bloody cliché, am I right? Merlin, this isn’t some sappy Muggle movie.” She complained and I laughed out loud, thinking back to my earlier thoughts when I was talking to Rose, “There needs to be some sort of proof out there, some concrete evidence, that a boy and a girl can be friends and nothing else.”


“Like you and me?” I asked, inexplicably feeling my chest tighten.


“Yeah.” She sighed, a small smile on her face that didn’t seem to quite reach her eyes, causing the tightening in my chest to reach a near-painful level, “Like you and me.”


A/N: That Rose is such a meddler *sigh*.

I'm not pleased with how short this is or the quality really but it's lead-up to bigger event(s) that shall occur soon (maybe chapter six...? *hint*) Tell me what you think in a review! They keep me inspired and I always reply! Chapter title is a song by the brilliant band Bombay Bicycle Club .

p.s. The last chapter title/song (Some Constellation by Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin)...I suggest you take a listen to it or look up the lyrics, because it's so lovely and really helped me write chapitre quatre.


Zut! - Blast! / Drats!

S'il te plait - please

mon frère - my brother

Tu me manques - I miss you

Maman - Mum

Père - Dad

Je t’aime - I love you

Votre soeur préférée - Your favorite sister

Bavardage - chat

Chapter 6: Watching Birds
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“Mister Weasley, you must understand the severity of the situation.” Professor Flitwick squeaked from behind his desk, peering over his glasses to give me a hard look, “You graduate in two months and yet you have absolutely no idea what career you’re going into?”


“Technically, that’s now what I said.” I pointed out, slumped in a highly uncomfortable and overstuffed chair across from my Head of House, letting my eyes wander around the room. Ooh, is that a skull of an Eagle?


“But it’s what you essentially meant, am I right?” He rubbed his small hand against his forehead.


“Theoretically… yes.” I answered, running a hand through my hair anxiously, “I really like Astronomy, but the only jobs I can think of are all Muggle ones and I would like to stay in the Wizarding world, to be honest.”


Flitwick heaved a great sigh then and I could practically feel the frustration pour from his tired eyes and demeanor as he clasped his hands in front of him.


“You are not the first student to be confused about his or her future, Mister Weasley,” He informed me, “so don’t feel as though there is something wrong with you. Every person hits a floo-block in their lives and yours just happens to be at one of the most pivotal points of your own.”


“Thanks?” I squinted my eyes in confusion.


“What I want you to be aware of, Mister Weasley, is that you cannot be lax. Keep searching.” He told me, “Perhaps poke around the library a bit. See what you find, okay?”


Oui, professeur.” I nodded. What typical Ravenclaw advice, I thought.


“You may be dismissed.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture for me to leave, “Please send in Mister Corner.”


Oui, professeur.” I repeated, pushing myself out of the chair and dragging my feet out into the corridor where I saw Asher nervously pacing back and forth, “You’ve been summoned.”


“Thanks mate.” He smiled, “How’d it go for yeh?”


“Same ol’, same ol’.” I shrugged and he gave me a sympathetic look, patting me on the shoulder.


“Well, I best be going on in then.” He said, “Got my letter from the Tutshill Tornadoes a couple days ago; been offered a spot on their reserve team. Wicked, eh? I reckon Flitwick will wanna know about it.”


“Yeah, wicked. Good on you, mate.” I nodded to my friend and briskly walked off, not wanting to hear any more of how my friends were accomplishing things while I would probably be left as the cashier of my uncle’s joke shop forever.


My conversation with Flitwick was one of many I had experienced between years fifth and seventh whilst at school and each time we never got any closer to an answer as to what I could spend the rest of my life doing; no big, flashing sign that read: This is what you were meant to be. I felt lost as I walked through corridors, feeling like this is it; this is where I peaked, in school, and I could barely say it was a peak considering the fact that I probably only had a handful of friends and never made much of myself while I was there.


I kept trying to collect the muddled thoughts in my mind—the ones that urged me to keep my brain active in the late hours of night into the early hours of the morning—to somehow find something, anything, that made sense anymore. But it’s all rubbish feelings. I can’t even put coherent thoughts in my head anymore. It’s more like: ‘Oh Merlin, what am I going to do? I’m feeling nervous right now, yeah, I am. I also feel scared and sad and confused and angry.’


It’s all nonsense. I’m all nonsense.


“Oi! Weasley!” I whipped my head around to see Albus and Scorpius—Medwin in tow—walking across the school grounds, beckoning me to meet them halfway. I ran through an arch and ambled over to my friends as the cold wind lashed against my cheeks, practically begging me to return to the warm fireplace of the common room.


“You lot all right?” I asked, half-smirking.


“Yeah, we were just visiting Hagrid and then we were off to find Eilley and Rose, but came across you instead.” Scorpius said, his blonde hair looked darker in the dim shadows. Blades of grass clung to his robes, like he had recently fell or was pushed, and his grey eyes still seemed to contain that slight watery look they always held; a sign that he was never quite all there. In fact, in reminded me a bit of Lysander Scamander.


“What luck!” I laughed, throwing an arm around Albus. I looked over my shoulder at Medwin who was lagging behind and looked slightly disappointed, “You okay, Winnie? Fancied seeing Eilley, eh?”


I barely even registered the words before they slipped between my lips, but once they tumbled out a tense feeling settled over us as Scorpius laughed uneasily. Albus’ eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at with confusion etched in his eyes. There was a slight quiver in the air around us, a feeling of uncomfortable expectation. A slight pressure built up in my stomach as I slipped my arm off of my cousin’s shoulders and turned all the way around to face Medwin, walking backwards.


“So, yeah, Rose told me about your crush.” I bit my cheek, begging my mouth to cooperate with my head. What is wrong with you? I chided myself. Albus and Scorpius turned to stare at me in disbelief. Yeah, we might all be mates, but things like crushes and fancying people was something we rarely talked about, especially with Medwin.


“What crush?” Medwin asked and I couldn’t tell if the red of his cheeks was from embarrassment or the freezing wind. Stop, stop, stop, a voice in my head begged as the tension in my stomach tightened into a knot of nerves, of guilt.


“The one you have on Byrne.” I said, raising my eyebrows, unable to stop the words that would undoubtedly make my best mate feel out of his comfort zone, “I’m hurt you couldn’t tell me, mate.”


I felt someone tug harshly on a clump of my hair, pleading me to shut my sodding mouth, but I ignored them.


“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Medwin said, but I could see some sort of anger, or embarrassment, flash across his eyes for the briefest of seconds before he attempted to compose himself again, slipping on that mask one more time.


“You fancy Eilley!” I accused, paying no attention to the hard looks Albus and Scorpius were sending my way or to the churning in my gut, the burning in my throat.


“Even if I did, I don’t see how it would be any of your business.” Medwin almost snapped, his mouth twisting into some sort of grimace; his brown eyes darkening.


“You’re my mate! She’s my mate!” I said, throwing my arms wide, “I don’t see how it’s not my business.”


And then something seemed to snap and I felt a sharp twinge in my chest. Medwin’s semi-frustrated demeanor became full-on angry as his whole face warped into an expression of annoyance and everyone stopped walking to stare at him in shock.


“You know what, mate?” He snapped, slipping his wool cap off of his head to hold it tightly at his side. The wind and air suddenly seemed harsher and colder as he squinted his eyes in my direction, “You’ve never cared about whom I fancied before, so I don’t know why you’ve taken a sudden interest. In fact, you’ve never taken an interest in anyone but you and your perfect sodding Veela self.”


It felt like all the air was suddenly suctioned from my lungs as I stared incredulously at Medwin’s fuming expression. Nobody said anything and the silence reverberated against my ears, taunting me in a way. Look what you did now, Louis, it seemed to sneer, Mucking everything up like always. Albus rapidly appeared at Medwin’s side, whispering quickly in his ear—“Come on, mate. Not now.”—and tugging him in the direction of the castle, tugging him away from me as I stared after them.


It was as if both Medwin and I broke some sort of unspoken agreement: I brought up something I knew would make him feel uncomfortable and he accused me of something I was always afraid of being, but suspected I was. Égoïstes. And a part of me, in some far off cavern of my brain, cruelly whispered that Medwin would never lay blame on me for something that wasn’t true.


“He didn’t mean it, mate.” Scorpius told me as Albus and Medwin trudged towards the castle; my mouth still hanging open.


“Yeah, I—uh—think he did.”




That night it was back to the Astronomy Tower with Eilley.


She hunched her back slightly, closing one eye while the other peeked through the lens of my telescope, smiling at whatever it was she saw before turning back at the journal in her hands and promptly pushing her hair out of her face. I watched all of these minute movements, chewing the inside of my cheeks and curling my hands into fists in my jacket pockets. Everything she did was like a faultless process, flowing seamlessly into the next action with no hesitation or falter. I wished I could move like that.


She wordlessly passed me the journal as she continued to peer at the night sky, the smile now plastered on her face as she watched the moon dreamily. The blue flames—that she conjured this time after begging me to teach her—easily reflected off of her golden hair, exaggerating the shadows between the curls that seemed to dance down her back and I felt this inexplicable, yet all-too-familiar, need to reach out and touch one of those curls.


To distract myself from doing something that could be creepy I opened the journal, easily tore a sheet of parchment from it, and stuck the notebook under my arm, pinning it to my side. Eilley looked over at me in confusion.


“What are you doing?” She asked, her tone hushed in a way it usually was when we were surrounded by these endless shadows and blue lights; in a way the night air convinced us it should be.


“Just watch.” I urged her as my fingers clumsily folded the paper, creasing and pinching the material until it resembled some sort of creature.


“A bird.” She smiled at my paper creation.


“Once—I think I was about nine or ten—when Dom and Victoire came home for Christmas break, I begged them not to go back, because I missed them so much.” I smiled at the memory and handed Eilley the crane, “Obviously they had to return, but once a week, until the end of the term, they sent me one of these buggers.”


Eilley softly smiled as her fingers nimbly toyed with the bird’s wings.


“Victoire’s owl would flap up to my window and drop it on the sill; from there it’d be charmed to fly the rest of the way onto my bed and slowly unfold with a little note written inside.” I told her as she traced its crooked beak, almost in childish awe of it, “Usually something short and, of course, in French. Like: Charmant petit Louis. Vous nous manquez. Avec amour, vos sœurs. They would always use the formal version of ‘you’. Probably so I would feel more important, I think.


“That’s so sweet.” She grinned up at me.


“Hand it here.” I said, reaching out of my hand palm side up, “I want to show you something.”


She hesitantly gave me the paper crane back and I smiled at her mischievously.


“I’ll make you another, I promise.” I laughed quietly, pulling out my wand from my jacket and directing one, short flick in the bird’s direction before cradling it softly between my palms, “Regardez.”


I blew a soft wind into the bird, lifting it from my palms and sending it into the night sky. I watched Eilley as she observed the small bit of magic in wonder; the bird smoothly gliding its way across the grounds and up towards the moon.


“I love magic.” She smiled and took back the journal, breaking her gaze to look at me from the corner of her eye.


“Me, too.” I agreed, grinning a little dumbly as I let my eyes move over her features; her button nose and curved, pink lips, the way the endless sea of stars above our heads easily reflected in her eyes. How the soft moonlight echoed off of her golden hair and seemed to add a whole new light to our surroundings, a new warmth and suddenly a line, perhaps from a poem that I once heard Eilley recite, flew through my brain:


I have no other star. You are my replica of the multiplying universe.’


“I sort of, kind of, got into a fight with Medwin during our free period.” I blurted, almost stumbling over my feet as I tried to inconspicuously put more space between Eilley and I before I did something really stupid; she looked over at me, clearly surprised by the sudden statement. I felt a abrupt rush of heat flood my cheeks and I tried to ignore her look, but it seemed to have me locked in place.


“What do you mean a ‘fight’?” She asked wearily, pushing her hair away from her face in frustration; she was wearing it down and despite how annoyed she was with it she had yet to put it up, “You two have never fought before.”


“I know, I know.” I lightly tapped my fingers against the stone wall, stalling and looking for words, “I—uh—I sort of—well—called him out on fancying you.”


Loo-ee! You didn’t!” She exclaimed, dropping her journal and covering her burning cheeks with her hands and for a selfish moment I wished the light from the moon was brighter so I could see the pale pink travel across her features. I shook my head in an attempt to banish any and all self-centered thoughts from it.


“I’m sorry!” I said, running a hand over my face and lightly scuffing my shoe against the stone floor, “I—I couldn’t stop myself. I heard the words coming out of my mouth, but it was like I had no control over them.”


“You should have control over them!” She half-whined into her palms. Before I could even comprehend what I was doing I was in front of her, hands on her slender shoulders, my head slightly dipped to get a better look at her face. There was a tightness in my chest again, a worry that I was making the same mistake twice.


“Please don’t hate me.” I begged and tried to ignore the hint of pathetic desperation in my voice, “Medwin already does.”


She let out a rather long breath before dropping her arms to her sides, not looking up at me but squarely at my chest, avoiding my gaze.


“I could never hate you, Loo-ee,” She muttered and I tried bite back the smile the statement caused, “and I doubt Medwin does.”


“Oh, believe me, he does.” I told her, letting my hands drop down to her forearms and giving her a gentle squeeze there before letting go, sticking them into the pockets of my jacket and curling them into fists before relaxing them again in quick succession to alleviate the buzzing feeling in my palms, “He got angry. Legitimately angry.”


“Did you at least apologize?” She asked, rubbing her eye with a tiny fist, suddenly looking tired and I abruptly became aware of just how petite and breakable she looked.


“Well—no.” I admitted, looking her once over. I noticed her pale, thin wrists, the way her collar bone stuck out just a bit, the gentle curl of her hair, and the soft shadows below her eyes which were probably formed due to her constant studying.


I felt protective of the frail person in front of me. I wanted to somehow wrap her up and keep her safe, but a nagging thought told me that it wouldn’t do her any good; that I was probably one of her biggest stressors of all.


Loo-ee.” She sighed in exasperation, “Please, please, please apologize. And soon!”


He said something rather rude, too, you know, I thought bitterly, but kept my mouth shut. It would be pointless to have Eilley sore with Medwin as well as with me.


“I will, I will!” I promised, throwing my hands up at my sides in surrender, trying to give her an amiable smile and turn the tense energy around.


“Good.” She said, smiling softly and picked up her journal, dusting off the binding, “Why must I always be the voice of reason?”


“I’m sorry, Lee.” I batted my eyelashes playfully and, on a whim, tucked a rather unruly curl behind her ear, “Can you still love me though? Forever and ever and ever?”


I don’t know why I said it. It seemed so random and out of the blue, barely relevant and hanging in the space between us. She gave me a curious look and appeared to be searching my eyes for something, an answer or a hint. We never really threw around the word ‘love’ before, in all seven years of our friendship. In fact, I’m pretty sure we only said it once to it each other and it was in an exchange of letters we sent over the summer before sixth year, when she was ill and I was worried; signed:





I don’t know what she was looking for in my eyes, but after a stretched out moment she seemed to have found something at least semi-satisfactory for the side of her mouth tugged into a half-smile as she stuck the journal into her bag. I felt like I was on my toes, waiting for a specific answer.


“I think I can do that.”


A/N: I hope no one is mad at me for upsetting Medwin (he seems to be the favorite :P). The chapter title is a song by my FAVORITE band Stornoway and the quote Louis remember is by my FAVORITE poet Pablo Neruda :). What do you think? Reviews inspire me! x


Oui, professeur- yes, professor

Égoïstes- selfish

Charmant petit Louis. Vous nous manquez. Avec amour, vos sœurs- Lovely little Louis. We miss you. With love, your sisters

Regardez- watch

petite- small 

Chapter 7: One Of Us Cannot Be Wrong
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

It was safe to say that the Ravenclaw seventh year boys’ dorm was a bit tense most days—and by most days, I mean every day. Medwin and I seemed to unconsciously set up some sort of schedule so that we could conveniently, and immaturely, avoid each other and keep our contact to a minimum.


I’d wake up and he’d already be out of the shower, dressed, and walking out the door. I’d go down to the Great Hall for breakfast and he’d already be on his way to his first class, his shoulders tense and up by his ears as he went out of his way not to bump into me on his way into the corridor; not making eye contact once.


It seemed so cliché to use the phrase “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone”, but as disgustingly sentimental and ridiculous and altogether unmanly it sounded, it was, for all intents and purposes, completely and utterly true. Because Medwin was my first mate at Hogwarts, my best friend and sometimes I felt as though I forgot that; that I knew him before Eilley, Asher, Keefe, or Scorpius.


That my first day on the train in my first year was spent desperately trying to understand the words he managed to hack out in his gruff accent while Albus and Rose giggled at my side. That, after I was sorted into Ravenclaw, Medwin had this indefinable flash of relief in his eyes and it was the first time I actually saw him smile when I sat beside him at the table of blue and bronze ties.


I learned to fly a broom with him, spent my first Hogsmeade trip with him, spent the night in the Hospital Wing with him when I splinched myself in the sixth year during our Apparition lessons, and every day and every meal and almost every class. Medwin was etched into my life, making a space of his own shape, and when something like that suddenly is gone—or, at least, avoiding you—you can’t help but feel a little lost.


Because I couldn’t remember a time when Medwin didn’t have to drag me out of bed in the morning or remind me to owl my grandma or that I had Arithmancy homework due the following day or that I should really acquaint myself with a brush every once in a while because I looked as though Eilley’s owl, Malachi, had tried nesting in it.


And, basically, Medwin was my in-school version of a mum except without the phlegmy accent and the silvery hair and the tendency to pinch my cheeks and call me his bébé. And once all of that was suddenly not there I realized how much I relied on him. And, despite basically being a selective mute, Medwin happened to have many more friends than me, so it gave a little dig in my gut to realize that he didn’t need me; just like Eilley didn’t.


I was essentially shaping up to be a pretty inutiles person.




“I feel like I’m reliving my parents’ divorce,” Keefe complained one morning in the Great Hall over a rather soggy-looking bowl of oatmeal; his red hair was flat on one side while the other stuck up every which way, a classic sign that he had only just rolled out of bed.


He was always the last to wake up; Medwin being first, then me (being awoken by Medwin), followed by Asher, and, eventually, Keefe would moan and groan as he dragged himself from his four-poster, creases from his pillow case indented into his cheeks and his eyes squinting at what he called the ‘evil, sodding, bloody fookin’ sunlight’.


“Hm?” I asked, eyebrow quirked as I took another bite into my apple, not actually feeling very hungry that morning as I determinedly forced myself to swallow the food that only tasted bitter in my mouth. I felt, altogether, like merde that morning after having spent most of my night pouring over my Arithmancy textbook and desperately trying to understand what in Merlin’s baggy y-fronts Professor Vector was trying to teach the class that day.


“You and Med. Circe, Asher and I are being shuttled between the two of you!” He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair as he set his elbows down on the table. “Can’t you two just kiss and make up already? It’s wearing me down. I don’t know how long I’ll survive it!”


He made an exaggerated whimpering sound before setting his face in his hands and went on to produce a strange wailing sound that sounded more like a mandrake than any fit of tears I’ve had the displeasure to hear. A few third year girls sitting down the table looked over at us with clear expressions of fright in their eyes as they slowly edged further away.


“You’re scaring the children,” I told Keefe as calmly and evenly as possible, reaching over to punch him in the shoulder causing him to whip his head up and outlandishly pout in my direction.


“Well, you’re scarring your children!” He rebuked, dramatically wiping whatever invisible tears he believed to have formed beneath his eyes and sniffling a bit. “We just want Mommy and Daddy to love each other again.”


“Really? Seriously?” I asked in disbelief, running a hand down my face and trying to push away whatever senses of irritation that seemed to creep around the corners of my mind because I knew Keefe was just trying to make me laugh and I knew that he and Asher were in an awkward position. “It’s only been a—uh, a week.”


“The worst week of my life,” he declared dramatically, basically throwing his upper body over the table.


“I thought the worst week of your life was, um, was when you dated Lindsey What’s-Her-Face?” I questioned, placing what was left of my apple onto my otherwise empty plate and casually scratching the side of my nose.


Mmph-pher,” Keefe mumbled against his forearms.




“Butler. Lindsey Butler,” Keefe finally deemed it appropriate to right himself and place his chin on his fist contemplatively. “She was fit. A crazy bint, but a fit one. Let’s call that the second worst week of my life, eh?”


D'accord,” I sighed, rubbing the heels of my palms against my closed eyes, trying to dispel the particularly negative thoughts that were accumulating towards a certain red-headed friend of mine.


And what was weird was that I wouldn’t even call myself friends with Keefe or Asher. They were just sort of there all the time; in the common room or in the dorm or in class, ready with a quip on their lips and looking for any opportunity to fist-bump some innocent victim and call them their ‘bro’.


They were the sort of people who were easy to talk to or listen to and sometimes it wasn’t incredibly horrible to be called a ‘bro’ by a drunken Keefe on Halloween or that one day I’d make a good mum, according to an equally, if not far more, drunken Asher that same night. Because it felt like they had some semblance of positive feelings towards me and recently it began to feel rare that anyone ever did.




Scratch that. Apparently there was another person who still seemed to hold an inkling of actual liking for me and seemingly made it their personal mission to ennuyer me to no end.


I was walking back towards the Ravenclaw Tower after a predominantly tense Charms class wherein Medwin sat behind me and I could physically feel every pointed thought he had towards me hit me square in the back of the head, settling somewhere in the skew of my mouth.


I continued to unintentionally frown in Flitwick’s direction, who continued to shoot me nervous looks throughout class before we were dismissed ten minutes early. I turned around as soon as I had my supplies together and my backpack over my shoulder; I turned around to face Medwin and—I don’t know—say something, maybe? The long-awaited apology or maybe just try and see if he still held that steely look in his eye whenever we were in the same room. But he was already gone.


Louis! Louis!”


I squeezed my eyes closed and counted backwards from ten, internally wishing that apparating was made possible on school grounds—at least for this brief moment—before spinning around on my heel and plastering the widest grin I could manage onto my face.


“Salut,” I greeted easily. “Amelie.


Her dark hair was in some sort of intricate braid that I had trouble telling where it started or ended and her cheeks were flushed from jogging to catch up with me, her breath coming out a bit faster than would be considered normal as she smiled toothily back at me.


Salut,” she said in a soft exhale as her breath caught up with her, the pink flush fading from her cheeks as she took a step closer to me and placing a hand on my bicep and giving it a quick squeeze. “We haven’t talked since…well, since Hogsmeade.”


She pouted teasingly at that and I immediately thought back to when Keefe was essentially making the same face earlier that morning and I was struck by how increasingly disturbing my train of thought was becoming as I imagined Keefe trying to braid his ginger hair in the same fashion and batting his eyelashes at me.


“Uh, yeah,” I nodded slowly, trying to find my way out. “Sorry ‘bout that. The whole, er, running away bit.”


“Oh, Louis!” She giggled, her hand tightening ever so slightly on my arm before retracting it to swat playfully at my chest. “You have nothing to be sorry about! It’s not your fault that some of your friends are just a teensy-weensy bit needy.”


I knew she was referring to Eilley right away. I could tell by the way her mouth was set and the slight roll of her eyes as she continued on blinding me with her unnaturally white set of teeth and I fought to keep my temper under control, because for the past week I was on edge; snapping at everyone in my vicinity, including Albus, Scorpius, Rose, and my unfortunate Potions partner (whose name I really should’ve learned by then—Mcmillian? Macmillan?).


It was like that infamous Veela temper was somehow working its way into my life; the temper that Dom and Vic had, but I never really showed the signs of; one of those Veela traits that I never wanted to possess, but apparently had just lying beneath the surface of my pretty-Veela face (that was just as deceitful as I felt).


I took a deep breath and slowly released the tension that gathered in my neck and, of course, Amelie seemed just as oblivious to my aggravation as always.


“Sure,” I finally managed to shrug, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my robes; which were becoming increasingly burdensome as spring didn’t just bloom but erupted across Hogwarts in bursts of color and warmth.


“I was wondering…” she started, biting her bottom lip in a rather distracting manner as she took yet another step closer in my direction and softly placing her hand on my shoulder, her thumb just brushing the side of my neck and causing my eyebrows to shoot up beneath my fringe. I felt my whole body tense at the touch but for conflicting reasons. “I was wondering…”


She trailed off again and, at that point, it was getting pretty annoying, and I wasn’t the most patient of people so trailing off sentences wasn’t as alluring as it was irritating, but then she was suddenly right in front of me, her mouth centimeters from my ear as her hand ran down the length of my arm; the other cupping the other side of my neck. She was standing on the tips of her toes and my senses were suddenly filled with her and I noticed that her hair smelled citrusy and that her skin looked so smooth and her hands were so soft.


“If you were busy this weekend,” she whispered into my ear, her fingers toying with the locks of hair behind my ear; which both simultaneously made me scrunch of my nose because—uh—personal space and cause a hot flush to travel up my neck at the feel of it.


“Erm, n-no,” I managed to stutter out and I could feel her grin against the side of my face, pressing her body against mine which was entirely too distracting and uncomfortable but not-so-bad but also really, really bad at the same time.


She pulled her face away from my ear and looked up at me with her big brown eyes that made her almost look like a baby deer and I immediately thought of Eilley.


Eilley and her bright blue eyes and her soft golden hair.


Eilley and her vanilla scent and her tinkling laugh.


Eilley and her dusty old books, favorite quotes, and poems.


Eilley and her ability to make me want and want but never try and get.


Eilley, who I immediately thought of when Amelie whispered bien before quickly pressing her full lips against my own shocked ones and pulling away with a mischievous grin while I felt nothing.


I thought of Eilley and her smile and the constellation on her shoulder and the days I spent desperately trying to get her to laugh at something I would say. The nights I spent with her on the Astronomy Tower; the time I spent talking and laughing and knowing her. The minutes and the hours and the days and the weeks and the years I’ve spent staring in awe at Eilley and how she seemed far too lovely and perfect and brilliant to even exist, never mind affiliate herself with me.


And it was like a kick in the gut, a zap in my chest, and a prickle on the back of my neck, because I was in love with my best friend.


“So…Saturday?” Amelie was whispering against the skin of my neck and I was jolted into the present and the—what the bloody hell was she doing? She grazed her teeth right below my ear and I suddenly realized that I must’ve missed something, but all I knew was that I needed to get her mouth off of my neck while we were in the middle of the corridor, because there were only so many times I was willing to be caught in a compromising position by some member of the staff of Hogwarts.


“Uh—uh,” I started to push Amelie away, my hands shaking because Mon Dieu, I’m in love with Eilley, and I felt like I was about to have a stroke or a heart attack or some sort of fit if Amelie didn’t, s'il vous plaît, back away from me so I could, s'il vous plaît, go up to my dorm and have a panic attack in privés.


And I looked over her shoulder, looking for a distraction or an excuse carved into the stone walls of the castle when I saw him.


I saw Medwin.


I saw Medwin walking around the corner.


I saw Medwin walking around the corner with Eilley.


I saw Medwin walking around the corner with Eilley, holding hands.


Smiling at each other like perfectly smitten perfect sodding couple and my chest seemed to have collapsed like that day outside the library with meddling Rose and my stubborn heart and my indecisive mind and my thick, thick, thick self.


And I thought of fighting with my best friend and the disappointed looks Albus still shot me and the derisive snorts I earned from Rose when I ask her if she’s talked to Medwin and the pitying glances Scorpius would shoot at me across the Great Hall. I thought of my sleepless nights and my too-much-sleep mornings, I thought of my heart-broken cousin, James, and my knack for mucking everything up.


And then I thought of that night in the Astronomy Tower and how frail Eilley looked; how delicate and breakable and stressed and worn she seemed and how I couldn’t help; that I couldn’t help her. I thought of level-headed Medwin, caring Medwin, and of all the ways he could do those things for her.


How he would read those old, lengthy novels with her that she always tried to get me to at least open, how he would do more then send her shoddy letters when she was ill, but he would actually visit her, and how he would just be so infinitely better for her than I ever could dream or hope or want to be.


So I lowered my gaze to Amelie’s face; her brown hair and her brown eyes and her full lips and the confused look on her face.


“Sure,” I sighed, my eyes quickly flitting back over and making contact with Medwin’s as Eilley continued to chat amicably with him, completely unaware of my presence. Medwin noted Amelie and my hands on her shoulders and her hand on my neck and I saw everything line up and click into place in his eyes in a way that only a best mate could recognize.


His gaze eventually found mine again and he just looked so disappointed before tugging on Eilley’s hand and leading her in the opposite direction. My eyes stay glued to the blond hair dancing down her back, my ears trained on the soft click of her shoes against the floor.


“Why not?”


A/N: HELLO AGAIN! I'm sorry it's taken eons for my to update and I feel terrible about it, but here's chapter 7! I got a little ~emotional~ while writing it because Louis is my bb and my bb is hurt :'C Hopefully my updates will be coming more frequently now that the insanely busy part of my school year is almost over! Please read and review!

Chapter title is a song by Gregory Alan Isakov.


inutiles - useless

merde - shit

D'accord - fine/okay

ennuyer - annoy

Salut - hi

bien - good

Mon Dieu - My God

s'il vous plaît - please

privés - private