A/N: Written for the Seasons Inspired Challenge and for the If You Dare Challenge, both for the prompt 'chasing butterflies'. Given that the ages for most of the Next Gen characters are unknown, I've decided just to write Lucy and Lysander as being around the same age. Thank you to my wonderful brother for beta reading this.
A cool breeze drifted across the field, bringing with it the scent of blooming flowers and freshly mown grass with a hint of cow droppings that just served to make it feel more like home. Lucy smiled brightly as, closing her eyes, she laid back against the picnic blanket and savoured the sensations. Outdoor picnics and tea parties were her favourite things in the world, especially when they were paired with a family reunion. It was always so much fun when they all got together; even the awkwardness of having to avoid the Scamander brothers without appearing rude was worth it.
"Luce, you're zoning out again," her older sister said, cutting into her reverie with a light tug on one of her long red plaits. "You know what Uncle George will do if he catches you sleeping in a public place again."
"The living room is hardly a public place."
"Oh, just leave her," Roxanne cut in. "It's not like she's been saying anything interesting, anyway. She's too youngto understand the art of appreciating boys."
"Speaking of boys, I think I'm in love with Gilbert Blythe."
Roxanne sounded almost disappointed when she replied with, "We mean real boys, Rosie."
Lucy tried to roll her eyes, only to find that doing so while they were closed was a strange, albeit possible, thing. She'd been listening to sister and cousin talk about boys for what had felt like hours and it had been nothing but tedious. All the boys she knew were just like girls, except for the fact that they were generally dirtier and less fun to play with. Why do they like them so much?
"Fictional boys are still real," Rose replied. "Mum said – "
It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful day on idle chitchat. Deciding to find something – anything – else to do, Lucy opened her eyes and jumped to her feet as if she'd just been bitten by white ants. "I'm going for a walk," she declared, before striding away from her giggling relatives.
She was halfway across the field, still with no idea where she was going, when she spotted the first butterfly. It had gorgeous purple wings and was flittering peacefully around a small bush. "Hello there." Lucy slowly inched forward so as to get closer without disturbing it, but her foot landed unevenly on a large stick, sending her flailing for balance. Within a moment, a small group of butterflies had left the shrubbery they were exploring and were darting away like a Snitch that had almost been caught. Their wings created a stark palette of colour that contrasted with the light green grass they flew over.
Instinctively, the young girl gave chase to them. She couldn't help herself; they were just so pretty and all she wanted to do was hold one. Uncle George had summoned one for her once and she'd held it carefully in her hands so as not to hurt it. It was markedly harder without magic, though.
If just I had my own wand, she thought wistfully as she weaved around the huddle of adults cooing over Aunt Angie's new baby and made her way into the dense patch of shrubbery near the river. Bristles pricked her uncovered arms and legs, but she pressed forward.
"Can I join you on your quest?"
Startled, Lucy spun around, crying out in pain as the movement caused the thorns to drag across her skin. A blonde-haired boy stood a few feet away from her, watching her forlornly. There was no doubt that he was one of the Scamander boys – there weren't many people with blonde hair at Weasley gatherings, after all – but she had no idea which one he was. Unfortunately, he'd attended enough get-togethers that it would seem impolite for her not to know his name. I just won't call him anything, then, she resolved. Then he'll never know.
"I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's alright," she lied, eyeing him cautiously. She might not have spent much time with either of the children, but she'd heard enough about the family to know that they were all rather odd. Eccentric was the mannerly way of phrasing it, but it all boiled down to the same thing; they were invariably abnormal. They spoke of strange things, wore outfits that no one with a decent eye for clothes would even consider a full ensemble, and always seemed to be staring off into space. She'd made a habit out of avoiding them at all costs. "What are you doing over here?"
"It looked like you were setting off on an adventure. Could I be your sidekick?"
"I'm just chasing butterflies," Lucy replied automatically. "That's not an adventure."
"Mum always says that the best kinds of adventures are those that don't seem like it at first."
Scepticism laced her voice as she replied, "I suppose."
"Can I join you, then?"
He really was a strange one. Peculiarity aside, however, the idea of having a sidekick was appealing. All respectable heroines need a sidekick, after all. She'd learned that from books and from tales of her aunts and uncles' childhoods. Her parents didn't approve of aimless adventures – they insisted that they only ever resulted in people getting hurt – but it was almost impossible to be a Weasley without some part of you longing for a good adventure. "I suppose," she repeated, this time with much more certainty.
"Lysander Scamander, reporting for sidekick duty." The boy saluted her as he grinned. "Let's go, then. You should go first, though. The adventure was your idea, after all."
A genuine smile spread across Lucy's face. She had so many older cousins that she was used to having an idea and then having someone else steal the fun of executing it from her. "I'll race you."
Turning on her heel, she sprinted after the butterflies. It didn't matter that she had only just learned the other boy's name, or that she had never particularly liked him, or that the older girls were probably still gossiping about boys, or even that Lysander was a boy she wasn't related to and therefore probably a carrier of that deadly disease called cooties. All that mattered was the fluttering little insects and the way their wings shone in the sun as they led the children in a merry chase around the backyard.
Suddenly, Lysander stopped in his tracks and slowly crouched down. Concerned that something might have happened to her sidekick before they could even finish their first mission together, Lucy started jogging towards him. "Are you alright?"
"Shh," he replied, cupping his hands together before inching them away from his body. Lucy watched with wide eyes as he slowly enclosed them around a brown-and-orange-winged butterfly.
As soon as the creature disappeared within the boy's grip, Lucy ran towards him. "Don't hurt it!" she squealed. "Make sure you don't crush it."
"Of course I won't," he replied. "That would be stupid."
Lucy eyed him suspiciously but saw no trace of deceit on his face. "What do we do with it now?" she asked. For all that she had wanted to catch one of the beautiful insects, she'd never expected to actually succeed, let alone to have to work out what to do with one if they did.
"We let it go, of course. Are you ready?"
She nodded, and he slowly opened his hands to reveal the previously captured animal. As soon as the enclosure had opened, the butterfly rushed off to savour its newfound freedom. The two kids watched its flight in awe.
"Do you want to go down to the Quidditch pitch?" he asked. "We can brainstorm idea for our next adventure together."
To Lucy's surprise, it sounded like a splendid idea. Lysander Scamander was actually a fun playmate. With complete genuineness, she replied, "I'd love to."