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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,

Dominique

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.”

 

“Oh.”

 

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.”

 

“Why?”

 

“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.

Translations:

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

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