No, I'm not dead. Still writing, just nothing worth showing anyone. Written for the 2012 hp-nextgen-fest on livejournal. Prompt was -"Our siblings. They resemble us just enough to make all their differences confusing, and no matter what we choose to make of this, we are cast in relation to them our whole lives long".
I haven't seen any fics with this big of age difference between Molly and Lucy. Hopefully, it doesn't turn anyone off.
Enjoy!
-:-
i.
Lucy was an accident.
The precise wording of accident however, was never mentioned in their household. Words like surprise, and blessing and an unexpected delight were bantered around their family circle like Bludgers on a Quidditch pitch but never once did Molly hear the word accident actually fall from anyone's lips. She's not dim witted; she is sixteen and knows enough about sex and human reproduction to know that at forty six and forty four respectively her parents were a bit too old to have planned to be parents of a newborn. But baby Lucy is here and now they are.
"She's so red," Fred remarked, peering over Molly's shoulder as she held his newest cousin. "And pretty wrinkly."
"She's perfect," objected Molly, falling easily into the protective older sister role. "Utterly perfect."
From the other side of Molly, her seventeen year old cousin Roxanne reached behind her to flick her brother's ear "Shut it," she demanded. "You're just jealous because even wrinkled she's still prettier then you."
"As if. Still," Fred tilted his head to the side. "She's not half bad."
"She's a Weasley. Wow, can you believe we were once actually this small?" whispered Roxanne, reaching over to finger the tiny wisps of dark red hair on top of Lucy's scalp. "It seems so odd."
"I know. And there was more of us to," said Fred, alluding to the fact that nine of the eleven -well now twelve- cousins were born in a span of five years. "I wonder if she'll get lonely, being all by herself."
"She won't get lonely," protested Molly, tightening her hold on her sister. "She'll have me."
But later that night, long after all the relatives and friends had gone home and her exhausted but thrilled parents had retired for the night with a new human being slumbering peacefully under their roof, Molly couldn't help but lie awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the truth in Fred's words. Because while it wasn't Lucy's fault she was a late-in-life baby, the truth was she was one and there was nothing in the world Molly could do to change that fact.
It was weird for Molly to think about her family. At sixteen her mind was more often on the gap between her front teeth, her unruly hair, and whether or not any boy was ever going to stop thinking of her as just a friend and start thinking of her as more than a friend, but tonight, in the darkness of her room she thought about her family and more importantly her cousins and the bond they all shared. She was lucky, she knew, to have her cousins. They factored in the majority of her childhood memories –from stealing cookies in Grandmum Weasley's kitchen, to making blanket forts at Shell Cottage and hiding underneath them all day, to starting Hogwarts and looking across the Great Hall to meet their reassuring gazes. Even now, Molly knew that anytime she needed she could go to Victoire or Dominque for clothing advice, or to James and Fred when she wanted to join in a quick game of Quidditch to de-stress, or to Rose when she needed help with her lessons. But Lucy; poor little, tiny, unsuspecting Lucy born thirteen years after the last Weasley grandchild would have none of that. None of the comfort, none of the closeness, none of the fighting, none of the close bonds. And in the dead of night, that knowledge made Molly's heart twist. And so she found herself slowly climbing out of bed, padding across the room and down the hallway to where her little sister laid fast asleep, her tiny body nearly covered under the large homemade blanket Grandmum Weasley had knitted.
"I'll make it up to you, Lucy," whispered Molly, leaning over the crib. "I'll teach you all our old tricks and where the best places to hide at the Burrow are and how not to let Uncle George catch you in a tight hug because he'll tickle you mercilessly until you almost pee your pants laughing and Lucy-," she crouched beside the crib so that her face was even with her sleeping sister's . "I'll be the best big sister ever and I'll never be too old to play with you. I promise, Luce, promise. Pinky swear on Uncle Fred's grave."
Her sister stirred at that exact moment, her head turning slightly to the left as her fingers closed into a tiny fist and Molly knew that her promise had been heard.
-:-
ii.
She wasn't very good at Quidditch.
Molly knows that Lucy is only five years old and unusually tall for her age, all arms and legs and on solid ground, her balance is shaky at best but still. She expected more from her baby sister, especially with Fred having helped coached her for the last two weeks.
"Come on Luce," cheered Fred from across the orchid. "You can do this, little one. Hit the Quaffle into the hoop."
Molly watched as her little sister looked at homemade hoops they had made out of sturdy wood and enchanted to hover two feet above the ground and slowly shook her head. Hovering slightly, Lucy's legs were wrapped tightly around the broom handle, her feet skimming the grass.
"No." Lucy's bottom lip jotted out stubbornly as she unlocked her legs and set them on the ground. She climbed off her broom and stared defiantly at her older sister and cousin. "I don't want to do it," her words came out in a rush. "Andyoucan'tmakeme."
She turned around and rushed off into the trees that lined the sides of the orchid, going in the direction of her favorite spot –a old tree stump in a clearing that was once Molly's favorite as a girl- but not before Molly saw the tears that filled her little sister's eyes.
"What the-"
Molly turned to look at Fred. He shrugged, his confused expression mirroring hers. "I'll be back," Molly promised as she headed off in the direction of her sister.
"I'll clean up," came Fred's reply.
Molly didn't have to walk far. Even if Lucy wasn't predicable in her choice of a hiding spot, then her loud, tearful sobs would have given her away. Molly entered the clearing to find Lucy sitting on the large stump, her legs pulled up to her chest, face resting on her kneecaps, her slight shoulders shaking with sobs. Molly walked over to her and sat down, placing her arm around her sister and pulling her close. For a moment Molly thought Lucy would resist but she didn't. Instead Lucy moved her head from her knees and turned toward her sister, burrowing her head in Molly's stomach and wrapping her arms around her waist, as if trying to melt into Molly's side. She continued to cry but after a few minutes her sobs lessened and her little body relaxed.
"All better?" Molly felt rather then saw Lucy nod her head. "Good. Now, tell me Lucy girl," Molly put her fingertips under Lucy's chin and raised her head. "What's the matter?"
"I can't do it," the words burst out of Lucy's lips. "I can't be good at Quidditch. Not like you."
"Oh, Luce." Molly stared down at her little sister, surprised. "I'm not good at Quidditch, not really. Not like James, Fred and Lily are."
"At least you lot can stay on a broom. I can't even manage that," gasped Lucy and Molly almost laughed but a hurt look creeped into Lucy's eyes and she stifled the urge. Lucy looked back down at her lap.
"Hey, Luce, sweetie, look at me," Molly instructed. Lucy raised her blotchy red face and looked at her older sister, tear drops still clinging to the edge of her eye lashes. Molly was struck by how young she was. How little. How innocent. In that instance, Molly hated herself for pushing Quidditch on her sister. This was all her fault, she saw that now. She should have let her figure out the game gradually, shouldn't have pushed so hard for her to understand it, should have made it more fun. But Molly had started playing Quidditch at four and she didn't want Lucy to miss out on that experience.
Of course, Molly had started playing Quidditch at the age of four with her five, six and eight year old cousins. Lucy had started at the age of five with her twenty year old sister and nineteen year old cousin. There was a difference.
"I'm sorry," Molly admitted. "I shouldn't have forced you to play today. I'm sorry," she repeated.
Lucy smiled and Molly knew instantly she was forgiven in only the way a five year old could. "It's okay."
"And hey, it's okay if you don't like Quidditch all that much. Not everyone does. Does Dad like Quidditch?"
"No," A giggle escaped Lucy's mouth. "He says his legs aren't supposed to be that far off the ground. It's just not natural."
"See," Molly leaned down and brushed a kiss to the top of Lucy's head as she squeezed her shoulder. "It's not just you. Now come on, let's go back to the house and see if we can sneak up on Fred. You know how much he loves it when anyone scares him."
Lucy's eyes twinkled with mischief as she twisted around on the stump, the affairs of the last ten minutes quickly swept away. "Race you," she challenged her sister with a toothy grin and then she was off like a shot.
Molly's laughter carried through the breeze.
-:-
iii.
It was weird for Molly to be home.
Molly couldn't explain it; how it felt to wander through her childhood home, sleep in her childhood bed, look out through the familiar window panes to see the same moon she wished on so often as a girl. Wishes that more often than not tended to learn towards desires to be prettier, smarter, funnier; to find someone to love her. At twenty eight she wasn't any prettier, smarter or funnier then she was at thirteen, but she was a bit wiser and if the ring on her finger didn't prove she was loved, the baby currently kicking in stomach certainly did. Molly didn't expect to be back in her parent's home but with her husband out of the country until Tuesday and the baby due next month, staying at her childhood home for the weekend made sense.
"Lucy," Molly knocked on her sister's door. "Mum said it's time to eat."
There was silence. Molly knocked again and, hearing nothing, opened the door. She peeked in, surprised to see Lucy standing in front of her full length mirror on the opposite side of the room, staring at herself. Molly entered and went over to stand beside her baby sister. She looked in the mirror, noticing that at twelve, Lucy had almost caught up to her in height. She still had a ways to go before she could rival Uncle Ron or Uncle Bill, but from the looks of things, Molly thought Lucy might be one of the few nieces and nephews able to do so.
"Hey," Molly noticed Lucy turning to the side, tilting her head and frowning. "What are you doing?"
"My….body," Lucy turned again, examined herself in the mirror. "It's off."
"It's off?" Molly frowned, confused. "How?"
"It's off. My body. My butt, my chest. It's not there. And the rest of me," Lucy gestured with her hands. "I'm tall. Too tall. There's nothing there. Nothing that matters."
Molly looked. Lucy had always been tall for her age; slender and waiflike but the sudden spurt growth over the last twelve months had made her even more spindly, all arms and legs and not really much else. Only trouble was Molly could look at Lucy and see the hint of what was to come, how a few more years of not growing plus a couple square meals would help to add on the curves and transition her passage from woman-child to fully grown woman but right now Lucy only looked into the mirror and saw skinny, scrawny twelve year Lucy. And judging from her expression, she wasn't impressed.
Molly bumped her sister with her shoulder. "Hey, you'll be fine Lucy. You've got to give your body time. It's not going to happen overnight. Swear."
"It happened to Megyn" replied Lucy, referring to one of her closest friend.
"Well, you're not Megyn," said Molly automatically and internally, she felt herself groan. She hadn't even had the baby yet and already, she sounded like a mum.
"You don't understand. You're pretty, you've never had to deal with this," Lucy remarked, almost angrily and Molly had to bite her lip to stop herself from getting out her teenage pictures, and showing Lucy the truth. She still had that tiresome gap between her two front teeth.
"Ooh," came a voice from the doorway. "Is it time for our weekly dose of self inflected torture? Count me in."
Molly and Lucy turned as one to see Roxanne standing in the doorway, grinning at them. The twenty nine year old winked and walked in, grabbing both Molly and Lucy by the waist, standing between them as she stared at the mirror. "Mirror. Oh mirror on the wall," chanted Roxanne, sunnily. "Who is the fairest one of all?"
Roxanne paused, tilted her head and listened. Molly watched Lucy watch her. After a moment, Roxanne's smile widened, her teeth pearly white. "The mirror says Lucy Weasley," she said, giving Lucy's waist a squeeze. "And you know the mirror is never wrong."
Lucy shook her head but she was grinning. "You are such a liar. Both of you are."
"No, Luce." Molly hand went instinctively to her stomach as she spoke the truth. "We're not. You are beautiful, inside and out. Don't you ever forget that."
Roxanne nodded alongside her. "She's right. You are. Although….." Roxanne's voice trailed off and Molly looked at her worriedly. She was reassured a moment later however, as Roxanne continued. "I did overhear that you wanted to put some more flesh on your bones. And I know for a fact that your mum has biscuits in the kitchen. And I'm sure we could wrangle up some more food if we ask nicely. Maybe stay in, make an evening out of it? Remember those days, Mol?"
Molly laughed, remembering all the times during her teenage years when, home for the holidays, she, Roxanne, Dominque and Rose would fluctuate between their respective houses for a night of talking, eating, talking and then eating some more. It sounded exactly like something Lucy needed tonight and Molly was thankful to Roxanne for showing up unannounced, barging in unannounced and then suggesting it.
"Yes, Roxie, I remember. So what do you say Lucy? You up for some girl time with your favorite whale of a sister and your meddlesome cousin?"
A genuine smile lit up Lucy's face. "Always."
-:-
iv.
Molly could tell that something was wrong.
Lucy was twenty four the day she showed up on her sister's doorstop at eleven o'clock on a rainy night, her clothes and hair soaking wet. Molly knew something was wrong, could tell not by Lucy's tear stained face or rimmed red eyes but by the way her sister avoided her gaze and didn't say much other than to ask if it was alright to stay the night. Molly was patient however, and held her questions. She gave Lucy a clean set of towels for the shower, scrounged through her dresser for a fresh change of clothes, heated up hot water for tea and told her husband she'd be up in a bit. It wasn't until later, as the two of them sat in her sitting room staring at the fire, fingers wrapped around the warm mug in each of their hands that Molly finally broke the silence.
"What happened, Luce?"
Lucy took a deep breath in and released it. "Frederick and I broke up." There was a pause. "He cheated on me."
"Oh, sweetie," whispered Molly. She made a move to place her hand on Lucy's arm, as if to comfort her but her sister held up her hand, warding off the gesture.
"It's okay. It's probably for the best. I'm better off without him."
Lucy sounded as if she were reciting a mantra, her voice flat and monotone. Molly could tell her sister was hurting. "You are. You totally are. And it'll be okay, Luce. You'll find somebody better. Promise"
"No." Lucy shook her head. "I'm done. I'm done. I don't…I don't think I'm made for this."
"For what?"
"For this." Lucy gestured toward the mantel and Molly followed with her eyes, seeing the pictures of her family, her husband, all the little trinkets the kids had made over the years. "I don't think I'm set up for all this. For a family. For a home. Not like you. Not like Fred. Not like Rose."
Molly shook her head. "You don't know that. You can't let one bad relationship put you off. Right now you're hurting but in time, Luce, you'll change your mind."
"No, I won't." Her sister's lip was stuck in that stubborn tilt that Molly knew all too well. She turned towards her. With her hair pulled back and face scrubbed clean, Lucy looked like a teenager again. "I've never said anything because, well, I was afraid of what you all would say but Molly, I don't want kids. I don't want to be a mum."
"…Okay."
"And I know," continued Lucy as if Molly hadn't spoken. "I know you lot all have the parent and the kid and the loving thing down pat but Molly, that's not me. I don't want it. I don't want kids. I don't want to be a mum. It might be your world but it's not mine and I don't want it. And please don't tell me I'll change my mind."
"Okay."
"Because this isn't about Frederick. It's not. It's something I've been thinking about for awhile now but tonight, tonight just brought it up again and I don't want you to judge me or think less of me or anything like that. I just –"
"Lucy." Molly voice was loud and left no room in the small space for any other voices. Lucy stopped talking. Molly continued.
"That's fine. It's okay. I'm not going to think less of you. I don't know why you think I would."
"Because…" Lucy gave her a duh look. "Because having a kid, being a mom, that is what you are. You and all our cousins. You grow up, get married, have a baby or two. That's what you do. That's what I'm supposed to do. And I was afraid," here Lucy fell silent. Molly watched as she tightened her fingers around the ceramic mug before looking back at her and continuing. "I was afraid you would think that by not wanting kids, I'd be rejecting you. And I couldn't bear to stand the thought of letting you down."
This time when Molly placed her hand on Lucy's arm, Lucy let her. "Hey, Luce, you aren't me. You aren't our cousins. You aren't anyone but yourself. And I just want you to be happy. I just want you to be you. Kids or no kids. I just want you to be happy with your life. That's all."
Lucy nodded. "'Kay."
They lapsed into silence again staring at the flickering flames. A minute later, Lucy spoke.
"Hey, Mol?"
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
-:-
v.
They buried their parents on a grey autumn day.
It wasn't a surprise to any of them that the two of them went together. Everyone knew that her mum had been sick for a year or two now, steadily getting worse in the last six months and when she finally passed on, surrounded by loved ones, it wasn't a shock to see her dad give up and finally go too, three days after his wife. Molly thought she'd be hurt more, them leaving her and Lucy orphans. Though at the ages of thirty eight and fifty four, they were anything but helpless children.
Still, Molly couldn't help but be worried about her sister and when she disappeared later that night into the darkened hallway of their childhood home, Molly slipped away from the comfort of her friends and family to join her. She found Lucy in their parents' bedroom, sitting on their bed, toying with the frayed quilt edges, a lone tear trickling down her cheek.
Molly said nothing, merely slipped in and settled nearby onto her mum's old rocking chair, the one she had used to rock Molly to sleep as a baby and then Lucy all those years later. In that moment, Molly was glad her mother had never gotten rid of it.
Molly watched her sister. After a few minutes had past and neither one had said a word, Molly finally broke the silence. "I miss them too."
Lucy still continued to fiddle with the loose threads.
"And I know you are sad and upset and everything but at least they went together, Lucy. At least they aren't alone." Molly leaned forward in the chair. "And we'll get through this, you and I. I'll be a good sister to you. I'll help you sort everything out. Promise. I won't let you down. "
"Of course you won't. You've been..." Lucy's looked at her sister and then looked away. "You've always been a good sister Mol, always."
"I know but-"
"And look, I know," Lucy interrupted, as if their parents death had finally opened the floodgates and everything was pouring everything out. "I know you've always felt sorry for me because I came late and I didn't get to grow up with you or Fred or Dom or Hugo or Lily or any of the others around but you've forgotten what I did get to grow up with. What I did get to have. I had Mum and Dad and I had you. You Molly."
Molly couldn't speak.
"I got you," finished Lucy. "I got you for a big sister. I got you to look out for me, I got you to guide me, you to make me laugh, you to chase my tears away, you to make me feel loved. You, Molly, you. I looked up to you. All my life I wanted to be you, to be like you. Yes, I know I missed out on the cousin thing but the big sister thing?" Lucy gave her a watery grin. "I got that in spades, Mol. I got that in spades."
In two strides, Molly was off the rocker and across the room, sitting down on their parents bed and pulling her sister into her arms. Lucy went willingly.
"I love you, Lucy girl," the childhood nickname falling easily from Molly's lips as she rested her forehead against Lucy's. "I love you so much you have no idea."
"I know. Love you too."
"I miss them. I miss them dreadfully. Even being in this room hurts."
"I know," Lucy took a deep breath and Molly felt it vibrate in the tight space between their bodies . "I know."
And at that moment, Molly knew she did. Because it wasn't a cousin she needed, it wasn't a cousin who would understand what she was going through at that moment, what she was feeling. Only a sibling, only a sister would. And she was lucky enough to have one sitting right next to her. At that moment, Molly knew this was a reason her parents had had her.
.fin.