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 CHAPTER FOUR LUCY’S POV

 

It was dead foggy and cold, even by Scotland’s standards. Seeing as it was early September, there should’ve been a bit more sun. From the Astronomy tower all you could see for miles was the rolling hills and the Black Lake, hardly anything stirring in the air or concealed in the low clouds. Considering it was nine in the morning, it was a miracle that Louis and I were up at all. Even if we were cutting class. Transfiguration was always such a bore, though. Creepy Creevey was about as messed up as a professor could be. He always went on about how his brother was killed in the Second Wizarding War. I lost any sympathy I had for him after second year. He rambled about how if his brother had known the stuff he was teaching us, he would’ve survived. I highly doubted that was true, since Colin Creevey was killed by crazy blood sucking Death Eaters or something. Maybe not the bloodsucking part, but still I don’t think being able to turn a goblet into a rat would have helped him much there. That would’ve been some trick. Of course I could sympathise, it must really suck to lose a sibling – but one’s quota of patience for idiots only stretches so far.


 

 


 

 


 

I had no idea how Louis had managed to sneak in so much booze, he had an entire trunk full of beer, vodka and cigarettes. It was also quite impressive how he’d managed to get it all up here, although he was hardly a weedy little thing. We was quite well built, or he would be once he lost the little bit of puppy fat that covered him. The Astronomy tower wasn’t the easiest place to get to, especially when carrying 30 cans of beer and a 50 pack of cigarettes. Not to mention those little shots of vodka. Louis had a way of getting out of trouble, we both did, which was impressive. His parents knew about him smoking and drinking and he always made a big deal about how they didn’t care. Of course, they did care and want him to stop, but he was too blind to see that. He was under the crazy idea that they were all about control. I’d been present the time they found out about a year ago, and only a dimwit – like Louis, incredibly clever but lacking severely in common sense – would miss the obvious reason behind his parent’s actions. Yeah, they’d been hard on him, but wouldn’t any parent?


 

 


 

 


 

***


 

 


 

 


 

We were sitting in Louis’ room, it was covered in posters of Muggle rugby teams, you wouldn’t believe that Louis loved sport as much as he did. He used to be quite the player, I’d never had it in me to watch Muggle sports but he seemed competent enough. He was a fine beater, but didn’t care for joining Ravenclaw’s team, much to the disappointment of every competitive Quidditch-loving member of our house. He wasn’t really a fan.


 

 


 

 


 

It was the first day of the summer holidays, Louis trunks were still unpacked downstairs – both of them. We’d just come out of third year with flying colours despite doing approximately nothing but cut class and smoke for half of the year. Everyone at Hogwarts knew what Louis and I got up to – not that they approved –  once Uncle Neville even caught us, he let us off easy though, with a few empty promises thrown in there. My parents wouldn’t figure it out if it hit them round their arrogant heads with a big fat broomstick. They had this insane idea in their mucked up minds that I was a flawless human being. Same for The Molz-Machine (making up unflattering nicknames for my older sister had become quite the pastime), they thought she was a little angel. I scoffed at the thought.


 

 


 

 


 

“LOUIS WILLIAM WEASLEY, GET DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND.” We heard Aunt Fleur scream, interrupting our reminiscing of the year just past. I was surprised Aunt Fleur wasn’t screaming in French, she liked to do that. “Cette petite merde, je vais le tuer!*” Maybe I spoke too soon. I knew enough French to know that that meant something along the lines of “*That little shit, I’ll kill him!” which seemed fitting for the situation. I heard Uncle Bill trying to calm her down, which was surprising since it was usually Phlegm – erm, I mean Fleur – trying to stop my part-werewolf uncle from killing his family. We all liked to think she did a pretty good job of it. Well, none of them were dead, were they?


 

 


 

 


 

Louis’ face visibly paled, he pretended to be cool and rolled his eyes as if nothing bothered him. I knew for a fact he was shit scared of his parents, which was why he kept to himself in his room and acted like a shy little thing whenever they were around. Normally, Louis’ parents would wait until I’d gone home to tear their son to shreds, but I’d convinced Mum to let me stay here for two weeks of the holidays. I’d thought that was a good idea until now…


 

 


 

 


 

The scene downstairs really was something. Victoire and Teddy were curled up on the arm chair by the fireplace whispering and pretending they were oblivious to the situation. Dominqiue looked insane, she was whispering something low and fast in French that I assumed was something along the lines of “please don’t kill my little brother.” It was unlikely Fleur would listen to this. And she was usually the calm one.


 

 


 

 


 

Fleur jumped, literally leaped through the air, at Louis like she was about to tear his head off. I think she would have if Uncle Bill wasn’t holding her back. It was quite frightening. The last time she’d been murderously angry before that had been Victoire’s pregnancy scare – which basically boiled down to Vic’s inability to read Muggle pregnancy tests.


 

 


 

 


 

“Mama, please!” Dominique shouted, shooting Louis an apologetic look. It’d clearly been her to have accidentally sold us out. She couldn’t hold her tongue sometimes. Louis’ trunk was open on the floor of the lounge, clothes and books spilling out of it to reveal the contents beneath it. Alcohol and tobacco. Lovely. Fleur wrestled out of Bill’s grasp, he seemed to just have given up. He was obviously disappointed, but he was more of a live-and-let-live type of Father, who encouraged his kids to make their own mistakes – within reason – and help to guide them on the path to enlightenment. Or something. To my surprise, Fleur didn’t move, she grabbed a packet of cigarettes and a six pack of cider we’d spiked with vodka (not that she needed to know that) and threw the cigarettes at him, Louis narrowly dodging out of their way. She dropped the booze and just glared for a few moments. At both of us, not just Louis. I’d seen that glower aimed at several people before, but it’d never been directed at me. It was more than a little scary.


 

 


 

 


 

“What in the name of Merlin do you think you’re doing?” She said, quietly and menacing. Louis made no move to say anything, just glared at Dom.


 

 


 

 


 

“Mama, really there’s-”


 

 


 

 


 

“Shut up, Dominique! LOUIS!” She screamed, noticing Louis had been rolling his eyes in my direction in response to his mother’s rashness. “Why have you been smoking? Drinking? Throwing your life away!?”


 

 


 

 


 

“It’s none of your business.” He said, hardly audible. I knew the reason Louis had started this, and I knew why I’d joined him. He wanted to do something rebellious, to make his parents notice him. He’d tried getting into trouble at school, even with the Muggle police and the Ministry, it seemed ignoring him was all they ever did. Smoking was his own way of defying his parents, ignoring how they ignored him and showing them that he could have been so much worse than he used to be. I’d seen how the Delacour-Weasley’s treated their daughters compared to how they treated Louis. Victoire and Teddy were always together, and had been dating since forever and always had interesting stories to tell. Vic very much bullied Louis as a kid, which was why they weren’t nearly as close as they could have been. Dom and Louis were close, but she was always so loud and witty and sarcastic that Louis often got lost and forgotten about in the whole scheme of things. That was basically the reason I’d joined in, we’d always been close and we went from venting about our families to “throwing our lives away.” Personally, I’d been sick of being the goody-two-shoes while Molly got all the attention.


 

 


 

 


 

“What?” Fleur said darkly, daring him with her glowers not to respond.


 

 


 

 


 

“It’s none of your business.” He said louder, waiting for the cascade of verbal abuse that was bound to come pouring down on him any minute. I saw him cower slightly, letting a little bit of fear show itself in his features. Instead, Fleur didn’t say anything. I looked away –  she was scaring me somewhat. Then I heard a crack.


 

 


 

 


 

I could’ve sworn it was somebody Apparating, it sounded as such. I turned to see what had happened, who’d joined us in this fun family affair. Everyone looked shocked. Dom had her hands concealing her gasps shaking her head and refusing to look anywhere other than at her own feet while tears visibly brewed in her eyes. Victoire and Teddy had both turned round and looked equally as shocked, sending each other nervous glances. Ted whispered something to Vic, and she retorted with a uneasy shake of here head. Bill looked furious, but like he couldn’t decide who to aim his anger towards. He just stood there as if he was struggling to breathe. He took a step back, running his hand through his greying red hair and turned to leave the room, punching a wall as he left. Fleur looked about fit to murder someone. The way her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail made her features look a mile more foreboding. Finally, I turned my attention to Louis, he was turned away from Fleur, his hand to his cheek, swearing under his breath. The noise hadn’t been someone Apparating, it’d been the crack of skin on skin as Fleur had slapped her son square round the face. Must’ve hurt with the sound it made. I didn’t quite know what to do or say, nor did anyone else, apparently.


 

 


 

 


 

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Louis said what he’d wanted to say to his parents for years now. I remember times when we’d sit in the basement at my house, writing in a notepad that was charmed so that nobody else could read it, all our feelings toward everyone we hated – or did at the time. I still had that tattered old book somewhere. “It’s none of your business because you don’t care.” His voice cracked slightly, and he took a calming breathe and coughed twice. “I’m sorry I’m not what you wanted for a son; I don’t mean to be a disappointment. Believe it or not, I don’t fuck everything up on purpose. I just want to be me…I’m sorry I’m not good enough. I’m sorry…I’m…just sorry.” His eyes shone with tears at that moment but he bit hard on his lip, determined not to cry, and continued. “If you hate me, that’s fine. I’ll go and I won’t come back, I’ll fuck up my life elsewhere and…” he wiped a traitor tear off of his cheek “I won’t bother you again. I’m s-sorry.”


 

 


 

 


 

And they were the most sincere words I’d ever heard escape Louis Weasley’s mouth. I could tell that it took all of Louis’ might not to break down into tears. Even though he pretended to be tough, I knew he was just an insecure little boy inside. I’d never seen him cry before that, and never again since, he never showed any sign of weakness, he always looked like he couldn’t care less about anything. After that he ran straight up to his room and locked the door, refusing to let even me in. We never talked about that day again.


 

 


 

 


 

***


 

 


 

 


 

Okay so maybe they didn’t handle it well. After Louis had told them everything, they changed towards him. They offered to take him to rehab, get him a therapist, use some Muggle home remedies to fight addiction. He could barely go five minutes without getting attack of hugs from Fleur, and of course manly hugs from Uncle Bill. He refused to stop drinking and smoking, though. It did become clear that Louis’ parents cared about him more than he’d realised, they’d tried their best to help him – he just ignored them. Shunned them and all their help. He didn’t want it. He never drank quite as much as James did (how Harry hadn’t managed to get that one under control, I would never know) he was sensible enough not to do himself too much damage. He knew his limits, and unless he was in a shit mood, or upset, he’d never go too far overboard. He once described it as an itch, an itch to rebel. Who wants to conform when rebelling is so much fun? And it’s fun not to be what people expect you to be, almost like a release.


 

 


 

 


 

Katarina Zabini was with us. I’d never really had time for her, but she was great fun – if not a bit annoying. She was a bit of a newcomer to our little group – or pairing. She was awfully irritating when pissed, though. She’d have half a shot of vodka, or a can of lager and already be off her face, unable to control her fits of giggles as she spilled all her secrets to us. It was pretty obvious to anyone with eyes she was putting it on a bit. Louis and I just liked to make fun of her more than anything else.


 

 


 

 


 

We didn’t really care about her petty secrets regarding the long list of boys she claimed to have flings with; most of it was bullshit, anyway. Even Molzer had had more flings than that girl ever would. Generally, the opposite sex was repulsed by her. She had a gigantic snaggle tooth and high cheekbones which she attacked with luminescent blusher that made her look like something out of a Muggle horror film. Her hair fell in frizzy tight afro-curls barely beyond her shoulders, and she’d often pull clumps of it out which led her to wearing very questionable wigs that would look better on a garden gnome. She had thick-rimmed glasses that she didn’t need to wear, as well. Seriously, who does that? If the girl made a bit more of an effort in the right way, she could be very pretty. It’s just she was a bit delusional.


 

 


 

 


 

“…so after I told Ashton we couldn’t be together anymore…” Louis and I exchanged a glance. Aston Casey was a boy in our year in Ravenclaw – our house – with striking blue eyes and curly blond hair. He had a jawline to die for. He shared a dorm with Louis, and since I snuck in there a lot, unable to bear Vanessa Levi anymore, I knew for a fact that Ashton would never touch Kat with a barge pole. “…I went back to Lorcan and he refused to talk to me, kept pushing me out the way and I was like ‘well, you weren’t kicking me out of bed last night, were you Lorcie?’ He mentioned Mol, y’know? Can’t remember wha – ”


 

 


 

 


 

“Wait, Kat. What was that about Lorcan?” I noticed that her voice had gone all high pitched and squeaky, something she did when she was annoyed with something that was actually truthful. And she was sliding the ugly fake gold ring up and down her poorly manicured finger – another habit of hers. Kat’s black eyes looked different too, all watery like it actually bothered her and she was about to cry or something.


 

 


 

 


 

“Lorcie Porcie?” she said sadly, retaining a tone of anger in her voice. “We hooked up.” She made a point of emphasising the ‘up’ and dragging it out for what I could only assume was dramatic effect. “Then he just like…y’know. Left.”


 

“You do realise, Kat. That Lorcan happens to be dating my sister!” I said menacingly, practically snarling. Louis, I could tell, was secretly hoping I’d eat her alive. Doesn’t everyone?


 

“Yeah, Mol-Mol!” Kat giggled. “The fat one!”


 

 


 

 


 

Then I slapped her. Left an unholy amount of pink powder on my hand, but it was worth it. Molly was far from fat, she was curvy in a way that everyone female envied, which made her have no trouble with the boys. Often they just wanted a shag, though. It made it hard for Molzer, so she generally just kept to herself not daring to let relationships get in the way. That was, of course, except for Lorcan – the idiot she happened to be in love with. I knew for a fact that Kat was jealous of her physique, she’d said so just last night, in that sober-but-still-ridiculously-annoying-high-pitched-voice when she’d joined the Ravenclaw table for dinner. Her brother had told her to ‘fuck off because you’re too ugly to be a Slytherin.’ Charming. Kat was painfully skinny, and being as shockingly tall as she was (nearly six foot) it looked horribly unhealthy.


 

 


 

 


 

It wasn’t long before she was giggling again, holding her cheek and laughing ‘ow’. Weird chick, that one. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” Kat said. “I’d rather get with Albus.” She hissed as she said my dear cousin’s name and burst into a fit of uncontrollable chuckling and fell back against the stone floor. Me and Louis shared a look – we could easily have whole conversations this way – and pulled a face. We both knew how that budding romance would end.

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