A/N: I didn't think I'd ever write cousincest, but since this is for you, Middy, I thought I'd step outside my comfort zone and have a go at writing your OTP... ily and I hope it's not too horrible!
Written for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza.
You used to hate that your only cousin your age was a boy.
You were always jealous of Molly and Roxie and how they were only weeks apart in age. Your sister always pretended to be the bookish type who wasn't interested in gossip, but whenever Roxie came over they would sit in Molly's room for hours on end, giggling and chatting excitedly about things you didn't understand.
They'd never let you join in whether you understood or not. You listened at the door sometimes, but it really wasn't the same. You hated feeling small.
When Louis came over, you were always expected to entertain him, and you hated it. He wasn't interested in spending time with you - only in doing typical boy things like stamping in puddles and rolling around in the mud. You were actually quite an outdoorsy person yourself, but you never let Louis know that because he could run faster than you, and that was humiliating. You'd always been able to beat any girl in a running race. Even your sister, despite the fact that her legs were a good few inches longer than yours.
Your mother would scold you after his visits. "Why weren't you playing nicely with Louis today, Lucy?"
"I don't like any of the things he wants to play," you'd say haughtily. "Not when it's with boys, anyway."
She'd laugh, rolling her eyes and telling you that you'd change your mind when you were older. You never believed her.
However, as your mother predicted, being at Hogwarts changes your attitude. Some of the boys there are good for nothing, but definitely not all of them.
Louis is one of the good ones. Now you understand why, as a young child, you couldn't stand the idea of having a man in your life - it's because they're bigger and stronger than you, and you like to feel powerful. But you don't care anymore, because the feel of Louis' strong arms around you as you cry over your latest exam result or your most recent heartbreak makes you feel safe. It means you can carry on into the next day with your head held high.
Besides, not all power is physical strength. You've grown into a beautiful young woman and you know this, so you use it to your advantage. Boys find you attractive, so you play games with them.
Louis tells you to stop, that it won't do you any favours, but you laugh at him and carry on. It feels good, being in control for once in your life. When your father is the Minister for Magic, control is hard to come by.
You're the first to his side in the hospital wing after it happens.
"Is he going to be alright?" you demand hysterically of Madam Pomfrey. "Please tell me he's going to be alright!"
Madam Pomfrey gives you a stern look. "Calm down, Miss Weasley, otherwise I'm going to have to ask you to leave. There are some very ill patients in here, and I don't want to cause them any undue stress!"
You take some deep breaths. It's so hard to keep yourself from falling apart, because seeing Louis like this - unconscious and completely battered up from the impact of the two Bludgers that were slammed into him simultaneously, not to mention his fifty foot fall - makes it feel like your world has been turned upside down.
"So is it... serious?"
The good thing about Madam Pomfrey is that she's always been honest; she nods slowly. "I don't see any need to send him to St Mungo's unless he deteriorates, but I have no idea what his recovery will be like."
"You mean there might be some permanent damage?" you whisper, frightened to death of the answer.
"Not if I have anything to do with it," she says firmly, and hope lights up inside you that this woman's determination might be enough to save him.
Concerned relatives drop in and out during the few days that he remains unconscious, but it's you that stays religiously by his side, from the moment you finish lessons until the moment Madam Pomfrey throws you out at night. He's usually the one that you can rely on to be strong, but now that he's lying there, helpless, you're determined to be the one who's there for him this time.
You never know what you have until you lose it. You finally understand why you never took Louis' advice, why you would never stop messing around and settle down with one person. It's because you needed something to stop you from dwelling on the fact that the person you love is the person you can't have.
You're in love with your cousin.
Louis is the person who can console you when you are inconsolable, pick you up from every fall, dry all your tears away. You have a desperate, insatiable need for him; he has a place in your life that nobody else could fill. Now that you've realised that he's so much more than just your cousin, you can't let things go back to how they were. You have to tell him.
One day, you walk into the hospital wing as usual and he's finally awake.
"Hey, Luce," he grins as you walk in, and relief floods through you. Normally you'd reprimand him for the nickname - my name only has two syllables, Louis; there's no need to shorten it - but today, there's nothing in the world you'd rather hear. He's finally getting better.
It's everything you can do to stop yourself from running across the ward and flinging your arms around him. "Louis," you say instead, but you don't need a mirror to know that you're smiling radiantly. "How are you feeling?"
"Not bad," he says, glancing over at Madam Pomfrey. "She says I should be allowed out of here soon. Exhausted, though."
"You've just slept for days; you have no right to be tired!" you protest, teasing him in your joy. "And it's a good job you feel alright, because you look like hell."
Louis pretends to be offended. "Hey! You're not looking so hot yourself. What did I miss? Who have you fucked and chucked this time?"
"No one. Actually, I've barely left your side," you say quietly. "Except for lessons." You know that Louis only said it jokingly, like he always does, but this time it hurts you.
"Really?" Louis asks, looking uncomfortable; you've completely changed the tone of the conversation. "You didn't have to do that."
"I did," you insist. "I really did. You're always here for me, Louis, and I needed to feel like I was doing something for you. I..."
You're bad with words, so you do something stupid: you kiss him.
It doesn't go the way you imagined.
He freezes when your lips press against his, and despite how much you long for it, he doesn't get over the shock and start responding; he doesn't kiss you back. You pull away slowly, realising your defeat. Your heart drops when you see the look on his face. You just kissed your cousin, when he didn't want you to.
You're also vaguely aware that you did it in front of a ward full of people. Feeling a crimson blush gathering in your cheeks, you imagine the whispers that will inevitably follow you around school when they get out. You see that Lucy Weasley? Is she the one who kissed her cousin? That's disgusting.
Louis still hasn't spoken. "Say something. Please."
He just shakes his head. "Look, I think you should go. I can't deal with this right now. I'm sorry."
Desperation takes over and you stay right where you are. "Louis, I love you, and it's not wrong. We don't have to take any of the shit we'll get from other people. Loads of people in the past have married their cousins."
"Maybe if it was only about that," Louis says, smiling sadly at you. "But it's not. I don't want to be disposed of like your huge pile of heartbroken exes, Lucy. I don't need any of your empty words and broken promises."
"It's not like that!" you shriek, embarrassing yourself by how hysterical you've become. "You're different. I never loved any of them like I love you!"
All he can do is shake his head again, and as Madam Pomfrey escorts you out of the hospital wing, telling you more gently than usual that she can't let you cause any more distress for her patient, you finally come to the realisation that you're a horrible person. You've lost your only real friend in the world, and you know that you'll be crying yourself to sleep tonight.