January 20th, 2030 – 12.30 a.m.
“Chérie, wake up.”
Lucy hummed and stirred in the soft sheets, stretching like a lazy cat. “Five more minutes, minou,” she pleaded, burrowing her face in her pillow.
A soft trail of kisses, light as feathers, started from her ear and went down her neck and back, making her purr contently.
“You told me to wake you, chérie…” Another kiss, this time on the small of her back, dangerously close to her bum. “…something about your grand-mère.”
Lucy’s eyes snapped wide open and she suddenly reached for her phone on the bedside table.
“Oh, shit,” she cursed, jumping out of bed and hitting Pierre on the nose.
“Sorry, minou,” she said offhandedly, running straight for the bathroom. “I’m so fucking late. Shit!”
It took her ten painfully slow minutes to get out, dressed in the same clothes she had gone clubbing into the night before – a skimpy black mini-dress, black Louboutin’s pumps and a faux fur red blood jacket: damn her and her intimacy problems that had prevented her to leave some of her clothes there, like Pierre always suggested; grandma was going to have a fit –, and she was even more late.
The sight of Pierre obscenely sprawled on the bed, playing with himself, was not was she needed in that moment; he threw her a roguish smirk and cocked an eyebrow, as asking her if she wanted to help.
She rolled her eyes, hiding how flustered she was and how much that sight made her want to jump right back in bed, shaking her head.
“Have you seen my wand?” She asked, making a point of watching him as dispassionately as possible.
He groaned, throwing his head back. “Have you checked on the… the…?” He swallowed, panting visibly, but looked back at her with annoyance. “How do you call the little tables on the side of the bed?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “The bedside tables, oddly enough.”
He scoffed, still preoccupied with himself, and shook his head. “You English people are so unoriginal.”
She shook her head and located her wand on the other side of the bed, on the floor, near her purse; she gathered all of her things, ignoring the delicious sounds her boyfriend was doing, trying to quell the fire between her legs with every ounce of her being.
“I’m off!” She chirped, purposefully cheerful just to irk him.
He frowned. “So you’re not going to help?” He asked, his French accent so thick in the midst of lust, she barely understood him.
She smirked, pitiless. “You seem to have the situation well handled, minou.”
“Ah!” He groaned again, arching on the bed; Lucy felt that not joining him was the hardest thing she’d done in her life.
“Tu es cruel, ma chérie,” he moaned, on the edge.
She stood rooted on her spot, painfully aware she was wasting time, and smiled again.
“Mais tu m’aimes, même, oui?”
“Oui,” he cried out, reaching his climax. “Oui, oui, je t’ame, ma chérie!”
He exhaled loudly, finally, and relaxed back on the bed; she sent him a kiss in the air.
“Have a good day, minou!”
As she turned on the spot to Apparate away, she heard his last words.
January 20th, 2030 – 12.45 a.m.
Lucy rarely went to Sunday lunches anymore, but her parents were in Peru for the Minister’s official visit and Molly was studying for her potion mastery in Osaka, so that left only her to represent their fort; she didn’t know why it mattered so much to them, grandmother wasn’t going to die if she didn’t see any of them for a week, but her father had insisted, and when that hadn’t worked, he had threatened to cut her funds.
That had worked.
Lucy loved her penthouse apartment in the city and she wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon; besides, muggle rents were way more expensive than wizarding ones, and she needed the money: working in fashion paid only so much, after all – barely anything.
Which was why she was standing in front of the familiar, rickety old house, even though she could have been in bed having the time of her life.
The cold, January wind attacked her small frame immediately, freezing her to the core, and she walked slowly towards the Burrow, trying not to let her awfully expensive shoes touch mud.
She cast a charm to warm herself and another to protect the shoes, hoping it would be enough, and steeled herself for what was to come.
She noticed in that moment two figures on the right side of the property, still a bit away from the house, and she squinted her eyes to understand who they were.
“James!” She hollered, waiving her right arm; the tallest person with the trademark dreadlocks turned in her direction, swiftly mirrored by the other – a brown-skinned girl that looked cold and upset.
James smiled and called her name back, before tugging the girl in her direction.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking pleasantly surprised; the girl sent her a tentative smile, but Lucy was too hangover and cranky to respond with anything but what hoped was a kind nod.
She huffed and looked back at her older cousin.
“The parents decided it would be a good idea to fuck off to South America and Molly’s still in Japan, so apparently there needed to be representation or grandma would forget that Percy’s her son too.”
“I’d try to forget too, if I were her,” he joked, making her smirk.
“Anyway,” James said, pointing to the girl, “this is Elizabeth, my girlfriend.”
“Hi, nice to meet you,” said the girl, trying a bit too much, with a smile so big it looked uncomfortable; Lucy smiled back, amused, and took her hand.
Then, she pinned James with a look.
“I know you’re the worst nana-boy in existence, but you really don’t like Elizabeth, do you?”
Elizabeth smile froze on her face, panic flooding in her eyes so quickly that Lucy knew she had had reservations about coming; James chuckled nervously, glaring at her.
“What do you mean?” Asked the girl, at the same time that James said: “As out of line as usual, mh?”
“You know me, James,” Lucy retorted and then, turning to the poor girl, she explained: “Our family is the definition of overbearing and it’s basically a test of the relationship: if you don’t run as quickly as you can, you’re either mental or in love. Or both. Which is why,” she paused, looking back at James, “I won’t bring Pierre until we’ve been married for years with 2.5 kids.”
“She’s exaggerating,” said James, taking his girlfriend hand; she, on the other hand, seemed ready to bolt.
Lucy smirked. “Am I?”
James scoffed. “Are you done, Lucy?”
Lucy laughed and took pity on him – and mostly on the girl.
“Ok, it’s not that bad. Don’t worry, we don’t bite. Much.”
Elizabeth giggled hysterically and James looked helplessly to Lucy, before hugging his girlfriend from behind and telling her it was ok.
“It’s fine,” she replied, suddenly looking annoyed, “I’m not made of glass, for Salazar’s sake.”
Another Slytherin, just like Carla; James had a type.
But the girl did seem familiar, now that she looked at her better.
“Have I seen you before?” Lucy asked, taking her in: she was tall enough, for a girl, nothing near James obviously, and she was dressed in black pants, a grey coat that had seen better days and an obnoxiously red knitted scarf, which was probably James’; the girl clearly didn’t have an ounce of fashion in her body, but she had an open face and two big, dark doe eyes that reminded Lucy of Carla in a sinister way. James had definitely a type.
Elizabeth tensed, then sighed. “I dated Louis a while back.”
Suddenly, Lucy remembered: Louis, like Lily and Hugo, had been a year ahead of her, and he had started dating a girl during the last few months of seventh year; Lucy remembered because Louis hardly interacted with Lily and Hugo, intolerant of Gryffindors, but he often came to chat with her at the Hufflepuff table.
They had always been close and she remembered how Louis was in love with the damn girl; they had never been introduced officially, as Louis liked to keep his life in neat, different compartments, but Lucy had known who she was and had watched her from afar.
And now she was dating James? Sure, years had passed – about four – but still.
So Lucy had never met Elizabeth, just like she didn’t know the new one, because Louis was the most secretive person in the world: granted, she now hadn’t seen him in almost six months, but she still liked to think she knew her cousin.
When he had broken up with this Elizabeth, he had come around wasted and had proceeded to cry all night long, saying that he had fucked up, but he never told her what he had done: all Lucy knew was that he had tried to apologize for months and she hadn’t bulged, so he had found another girl after a while. And then another.
Elizabeth must have noticed her change in facial expression, because she stood taller and rigid, defensive.
“I found him in bed with another woman,” she said, hitting Lucy like a punch in the gut, “not that is any of your business.”
“No, I knew the fucker wouldn’t have told the story as it went: I’ll look like the asshole in there.”
Lucy was still reeling from the information, a painful headache starting to form in the back of her mind, but mostly she was pissed: that little fucker.
He had had the guts to come crying to her, even though he had known what Jada had done to her.
Oh, he was going to pay.
“Don’t worry,” she stopped Elizabeth, feeling a new kinship with the girl, “you won’t. I’ll make sure to spread the word.”
Elizabeth looked so relieved that Lucy immediately felt better; James looked stunned.
“You will?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, “aren’t you and Louis as thick as thieves?”
“Not as much as I thought,” was all she could bring herself to say with a grim smile. “Now let’s get inside, I’m fucking freezing.”
James burst out laughing and took her in better, before smiling mischievously.
“Had a good night?”
“Actually, I did, thank you for asking, dear cousin,” she bit out tartly, turning around and making her way to the house without sparing them another look.
Entering into the Burrow was always a bit anticlimactic in the winter: suddenly, the warmth hit her like a solid wall, as did the loud conversations happening in every corner of the living room.
She saw Bill and Ginny playing checkers, Arthur chatting amiably with Angelina and George, Rose and her girlfriend giggling with Albus, Lily and her boyfriend whispering to each other near the fire
and Hugo signing with Roxanne. There was no trace of Freddie, who she assumed was smoking somewhere, Dominique – who, like her, never came –, Victorie and Teddy. And aunt Fleur. And Harry, Ron and Hermione. And, most importantly, Louis.
Helga, she hated the size of her family.
When Lily looked up, Lucy expected to be acknowledged, but she simply looked behind her and she squealed, startling half of the room.
“JAMES’ HERE!” she shouted, loud enough that Nana barged from the kitchen, looking positively murderous.
Lucy gaped at the whole scene, taking a step away from James; he looked nervous, but it was nothing against the pure, unaltered fear etched on Elizabeth’s face.
“Young man!” she said sharply, pointing her wand at him; he pulled his hands up reflexively, astonished “I’m disgusted! You’ve been coming all these weeks and you never mentioned you had a girlfriend!”
Then, she did a full 365° and smiled adoringly at Elizabeth.
“It’s so nice to see you again, dear,” she said, sweetly, without missing a beat, her eyes full of excitement, “I can’t wait to know what you’ve been up to since the last time I’ve seen you.”
Elizabeth was almost gaping, unsure of how she was supposed to react, while James wore a smug smile and had lowered his hands.
“Don’t think I’m done with you, rascal,” said Nana, looking back at him with a reprimanding gaze.
Albus looked, by all purposes and means, like Christmas had come early, while Rose and Amira were looking at him reproachfully.
Bill showed clear signs of recognition – and dread –, as did grandpa, while Lily was outraged.
“You know her? How do you know her?” she asked, jumping from her boyfriend’s lap; Ginny tried to shush her without much success, and she stalked in their direction.
“Who are you?”
Before any of the people could answer, Lucy decided she was quite done with the show.
“Yeah, hi, hello? It’s nice to see you guys too,” she said, waiving sarcastically to the room, “Percy says hi and Molly’s had another nervous breakdown.”
Nana’s eyes saddened, “Oh, poor dear…”
“Hi, Lucy, it’s so nice to see you,” cut back in Lily, “Now, can we go back on topic? Who are you?”
“Lily, enough,” thundered Ginny, standing up, “You’re being purposefully rude and that is not how I raised you, and not how an Auror should behave.”
“Yeah, Lily, back off,” hissed James, a protective arm wrapped around Elizabeth frame.
“Fine,” said Lucy, giving up, “I’ll be in the kitchen in anyone needs me.”
“Mum, I didn’t say anything bad,” whined Lily, completely ignoring Lucy once again; she simply rolled her eyes, kissed her grandpa, hugged her nana and got the fuck out as soon as humanly possible.
George and Hugo were quick to follow and the last thing she heard was James’ voice.
“This is Elizabeth, my girlfriend.”
Hello!! Now we'entering in the centre of the story!!
What did you think about Lucy? I see her as a bit of a rebel to counteract Percy's influence but more in words than in actual actions! anyway, she's one of my favourite, so I hope you enjoyed!
Translation of the French sentences!
Cheriè, minou are pet names like ‘sweetheart’, ’darling’
Tu es cruel, ma chérie: you’re cruel, my darling
Mais tu m’aimes, même, oui?: But you love me anyway, yes?
Oui, oui, je t’ame, ma chérie!: Yes, yes, I love you, my darling!
And finally, “Toi aussi, chérie.” Means ‘you too, dear.”
Next one will be from Jasmine's (Louis' gf) pov!!
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