lucy is always right
"Teddy? What are you doing?"
Teddy looked up, a small smile creeping along his lips. "Looking for inspiration," he said, tapping his fingers against Harry's desk.
Twelve-year-old Lucy didn't understand. "You don't look for inspiration, Teddy, it looks for you." She grinned and moved to sit on his lap.
The sixteen-year-old replied, "Not all the time, Luce, sometimes you have to look for it. Maybe it's just hiding, and you have delve a little deeper to find it."
Lucy bit her lip, she didn't like being corrected, no matter how mildly and good-naturedly. If she didn't like sitting on his lap so much, she would've moved out of his arms, that had wound themselves around her waist, to face him and give him a well-thought out rant of how she was never wrong. But she didn't, simply because she wanted to stay in his lap. Maybe it didn't help her crush - at all - but it was a guilty pleasure of sorts.
"You think I'm wrong, don't you?" His voice was not challenging, but Lucy only heard what she wanted to hear.
"No. Maybe. Yes." She couldn't help but be honest, because Teddy was Teddy and he didn't take offence to her honesty.
"Okay then, so how long will I have to wait until this inspiration comes to me then?"
Lucy thought about it for a moment. "It'll come to you when you're not thinking about it. Out of no where you'll be full with this idea - for what, may I ask?"
She could hear the pride in his voice as he said, "I want to write a really good novel."
"- and it'll be all you can think about, until you get to a piece of parchment and a quill and write it down until there's nothing left for you write."
"I think I've got an idea."
I originally posted this on 'Next-Gen Drabble-tag', but I liked it so much that I wanted to post it on here too. My prompt and paring were: lucyteddy 'novel'