This one-shot is for the Sell me a Story challenge in the Harry Potter Challenge Forum, with the pairing Lucy Weasley/Scorpius Malfoy. The story was loosely inspired by the songs 'Fall to Pieces', 'I Will Be', and 'Everybody Hurts', all of which of which by Avril Lavigne. The title was inspired by one of my (least favorite) songs by Paramore, 'That's What You Get', with the lyric ''Cause I burnt every bridge I ever built, when you were here...' in case you may/may not be wondering/might recognize it, however I will be interpreting that bit slightly different than how it was probably supposed to be interpreted as to fit the story, so disregard that if you will. Either way, this is my first time writing this pairing, so I sincerely hope you enjoy it, and please leave a review if you have time!
Burning Every Bridge
Lucille Weasley wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball so small, no one would be able to find her. The mass of her blood-pumping organ felt tight and constricted, aching to explode against her ribcage. She wanted to fold herself up into a little Weasley note and Apparate her way out, only the poor fourteen year old couldn't do this. Instead, she was forced into solitude while screams and shouts flew past her, shaking the home until it nearly blew off its roof. She almost wished it would, that way she wouldn't have to hear the venom in ill-thought words flying through the rooms, reverberating in her brain and ricocheting off of the thick walls. She wished she wasn't so alone in her home, only having the place she called her bedroom as her companion, her bed being the only company she enjoyed being in. This was why she loved Hogwarts so much—she wasn't alone there, whereas at home, it was an entirely different story.
Where was Molly? Naturally, lucky little adventurous and unique Molly was in France; either with the woman that insisted to be called Aunt Gabrielle by anyone that was a Potter/Weasley/extension of any family remotely associated with the two, the sister of Fleur, her father's eldest brother's wife; or she was still in Beauxbatons—she couldn't quite remember. It wasn't like Lucy's beloved sister ever owled, and when she did, chances were that she was trying for idle conversation to entertain herself, and that it was probable that she wouldn't receive an answer from the redhead. She was busy with her life, much too busy to think about her family.
In all honesty, when it came down to it, Lucy wasn't even sure if Molly had the slightest clue of what she left behind her to be in France. Whenever her sister ever bothered to come home (which was hardly ever, if she was going to be completely and fully honest with herself), she would prance around with the French accent she'd acquired at Beauxbatons that mixed with her natural British one, making for what many boys found to be an 'enticing, sultry accent' whereas she was stuck with this. Then again, Molly had begged to go to Beauxbatons, while Lucy had been more than happy to start at Hogwarts with most of her cousins (Dominique, Louis, and Roxanne had decided to also go to Beauxbatons) at her own time. Perhaps she should've went with Molly.
At least they never fight when she's around, the youngest pureblood Weasley daughter thought bitterly to herself. Lucy wasn't entirely sure what happened, but as time went on, Percy Weasley and Audrey Weasley (she practically refused to call herself a Weasley unless she was around the other Weasleys, so it was Rosier to him) began to find that their love was slowly diminishing and crumbling down to the ground like a dilapidated building. The walls around her seemed to close in as well, suffocating her with every word that was screamed with hatred between her parents.
In short, they simply hated each other. In fact, it was a wonder on its own as to why they even bothered to stay together, but of course she knew the reason, and it was a pretty bad one at that. Lucy had come to the (most likely correct) conclusion that the only reason they were still very much married to one another was to keep up the appearance that they were the 'perfectly functional, loving, Ministry-abiding, pureblood, equality-fighting family' (Merlin forbid, should they not look and act that way in front of others; they wouldn't want their family's name to become a bespattered word of shape, did they?) although it seemed that only Lucy knew the full extent of the train-wreck that was her parents' relationship. The Weasley family, excluding the Beauxbatons-hoppers (well, primarily her sister, for the other two seemed to have a good enough of a glimpse) had an inkling that their relationship had long collapsed.
Her long, thin nails dug into her soft, creamy milk flesh, leaving a trail of dents and other marks on her arms. Lucy couldn't bear this; she couldn't bear any of it any longer. It was torturous, and with every breath she took, things appeared to get worse and worse. Perhaps if she asphyxiated on her own agony, she would rid herself of everything around her. The brunette didn't exactly consider herself to be that sort of person that wanted to extinguish themselves from the planet, but surely extermination of her soul had to be better than enduring the torture that was watching the Third Wizarding War right in her own home. It wasn't worth it, and she didn't even have Molly to make her feel better. She couldn't talk to her cousins about it, for blabbing to someone who didn't understand what it was like would be burdening them with her troubles, plus they didn't understand.
Scorpius does, she reminded herself. Her clear blue crystal orbs flickered towards her open window when her ears detected the faint hooting of an owl. Lucy peered closer, noticing a barn owl much like her Uncle Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, that he had later given to her Aunt Ginny as told by the two siblings once, many, many years ago. The owl gave one large hoot and landed on the cherry wood desk located in her room, the bedroom she kept locked at all times. A ghost of a smile haunted her pale, lightly freckled facial features when the all-too familiar owl stared at her curiously while it perched on the edge of her desk.
Settling herself into her chair, Lucy gently pulled out the scroll as not to get the sensitive owl by the name of Augustus, to screech at her, should she hit him in the wrong place. It made her wonder where her screech owl, Meredith, had gone off to. Her owl was smart, as Lucy often let her out of her age to explore rather than stay cooped up in the cages like her father had once told her happened quite often with owls. She'd come back at the right time; she always did. Slowly, cautiously, she unraveled the roll of parchment to read the words that had been scribbled in a quick, yet messily neat (how was that even possible, she wondered constantly) by the sender of the owl.
Lucy,
Meet me at Diagon Alley at the Leaky Cauldron right now.
Scorpius
Although it was only thirteen words, those thirteen words instilled more happiness than she normally felt, and for the first time in a long while, Lucy felt a flicker of hope light itself in her heart, its warmth spreading throughout her body, which had seemed to be cold, frozen over by her heart she never considered whole to begin with. Lucy was fourteen, and also the youngest in her year. She would've been in her third year rather than fourth, but she'd just barely made the deadline. August 31st had never been an easy birthday to have , since she was obviously the youngest person in her year, much unlike Scorpius, who was born May 2nd instead.
Looking back at everything, Lucy wasn't entirely sure how they became friends, only that they had formed a bond, a special one that no one else understood. As far as she knew, they barely understood it themselves, knowing only that they had secrets that bound them together. He understood her, understood what she was going through, understood the emotions and issues she suffered through, understood her pain, understood her confusing and logical mindset, understood her deeper problems, understood her vain ones—he understood everything.
And it scared her. At first, at least. Lucy didn't know how to let people in, but at the same time, a sense of relief washed over her like a torrential storm. She had known she wasn't the only one going through the things she was, but she had yet to find someone who was. Along came Scorpius Malfoy, a boy in her year that grabbed her attention and never let it go. From the moment they stepped onto the train and sat in the same compartment, he had her hooked. She had kept him at an arm's length, as she'd never been too trusting before the ship that was her parents' relationship began to sink faster than the Titanic. She was quiet, introverted, and frequently kept to herself, whereas Scorpius was loud, social, and went out of his way to have contact with people. They were polar opposites, and Lucy loved it. He helped her out of her shell a bit, and in turn, he learned that it was perfectly fine to have a bit of silence and time away from people every so often.
Hopping off of her bed, she faced her full-length mirror. Her face had been expressionless upon looking at it, but her pale pink lips had curled into a frown when she stared at her reflection. Overall, she was displeased with the sight she was greeted with: her hair needed to be brushed; she needed to change out of her pajamas and slippers; she had to wash her face, although that was more for herself to cool down and relax rather than for the actual purpose of washing her lightly freckled face for the benefits of keeping it clean; and she needed to find a way of doing this immediately. Lucy grumbled something unintelligible under her breath to herself. She should've done what she wanted to last time and spent her galleons for the last pair of two-way mirrors for Christmas, so she and Scorpius would have a way to communicate in a way that was more beneficial. By the time the owl had reached her, she was positive he had already arrived at Diagon Alley, which only added more pressure on her to hurry herself up and not to dawdle and waste any more precious time. She was a relatively impatient person, and she always felt bad whenever she ended up making her best friend wait for her.
Scampering around her room to get ready, Lucy rushed out of her bedroom and into the bathroom and turned the right faucet, a clear liquid tube running down the blinding white porcelain sink bowl. Her hands found themselves gliding through it, the water splashing its icy tears onto her soft milky skin that was the palms of her hands and then some. She cupped her hands the shape of a cauldron cake and scooped up as much water as her hands would allow her and doused her face with it. It chilled every pore into aching, revitalizing tingles. After a few minutes of this, she turned off the water and breathed deeply, relishing the air—relishing everything.
Midway through, she paused briefly; it was silent, almost a deadly silence, and she couldn't hear her parents shouting at each other, which was a rare occurrence in itself. She almost couldn't believe that it was real, but indeed, it was no dream, and she would take this as nothing but a good sign. Lucy was hellbent on taking advantage of the silence she found so comforting. Had they fallen asleep? She'd heard her mother and father both mutter things while they were asleep, so perhaps it wasn't it. Had they run out of things to fight about? Or had they killed each other? I didn't hear anything, she thought to herself, before pushing away the thought, reminding herself they could be civil.
Drying her face with a soft lavender towel, she returned to her bedroom, resuming her preparations. Her blue doe-eyes scanned her closet, and she couldn't help but feel disappointed that it was the summer for the reason that she was unable to have possession of her wand and use it. For this reason, and this reason alone, did she allow her wand to stay in the drawer of her nightstand. Had it been any other time and its use wasn't prohibited, she wouldn't set foot in any other place without it. Lucy couldn't bear the thought of not having her wand on her, but pushed it away as she stripped herself of her clothing, leaving her slender body clad in nothing but her undergarments.
The female quickly slapped on her gray jean capris and a ruffled salmon plaid blouse over her body, slipping on a pair of black ballet flats. It was her casual attire, which she wore only when she was at home. At Hogwarts, her 'casual attire' was rarely this casual, often proving to be a bit more of the 'formal casual' style, if that made any sort of sense at all, which, quite frankly, it didn't to her but she went along with it anyways. Lucy pulled her brush through her tangled and knotted hair, although she surprised herself by how quickly she managed to tame it.
Lucy made her way towards her door, stopping only to witness the act that was her chubby little kitten, Julissa, prowl in her room before settling herself on the brunette's light powder blue couch and nestling into one of the white pillows that only served as decoration on the piece of furniture. Rolling her eyes, she shut the bedroom door with a reminder ringing in her head that she was supposed to be meeting Scorpius as soon as possible. Throwing her door open, she whacked it shut and sprinted down the stairs and into the living room. The sound of her parents screaming at each other was a prominent sound, although it was from the kitchen. They didn't hear her, but she could hear them.
"You selfish, worthless excuse of a—"
"—I'm the worthless excuse of a hum—"
"Yes, you are! What a waste of—"
"You're the waste of space! What are you still doing h—"
"—Get out of my house, you...you twit! You're such a horrible excuse of a hus—"
"I paid for the house, it's mine, you pathetic whiny troll! Pack your bags and get out, you ungrateful b—"
Lucy bit her lip while she quietly tiptoed to the small sack of Floo powder on the mantle and pulled at its strings until it opened. She grabbed a handful and set the tiny sack on the empty ash tray they used, leaving the bag open. Throwing the Floo into the fireplace, she shut her eyes, shouted "Diagon Alley!" and let the green flames swallow her body whole. When her eyes opened, she found herself at Diagon Alley. She stepped out, digging her hands into her pocket until she meandered aimlessly around the place while her mind drifted off until she found herself wandering into the Leaky Cauldron, just as he'd told her to do in his letter. She spotted the owner, Hannah Longbottom—the wife of Neville Longbottom, the Herbology professor and a top reason to take the class to begin with—who grinned upon witnessing her enter and waved her over. A polite smile stretched on her face as she scurried over.
"Hello," she greeted the older, blonde-haired woman.
"Hello, Lucy. It's nice to see you here. I don't suppose you fancy a drink, do you?" Mrs. Longbottom said, and by the sly, almost knowing expression on her face, Lucy had a sneaking suspicion that she already knew why she was there.
"I'm afraid not. Unfortunately, I'm not old enough to drink, nor am I able to stomach any of it anyways. Not to mention that my parents would blow a gasket if they found out I did, so I must decline your generous offer. Thank you, however." Lucy conveniently forgot to mention that her parents wouldn't find out because they were too busy arguing to pay attention to their daughter and her nonexistent drinking habits anyways. However, should she drink and they found out, then they probably would blow a gasket, so it wasn't a complete lie.
Mrs. Longbottom smiled at her. "In that case, might I suggest one of the parlors—the usual, of course," she said, adding the last part that proved that indeed, she knew exactly what Lucy was there for.
"That would be lovely. Has he already arrived?" she asked, referring to Scorpius. The look on Mrs. Longbottom's face was one that seemed to say "Are you really asking me that?" and Lucy couldn't help but feel a little foolish, but it was a necessary question.
"Who do you think told me to reserve the parlor? He's already in there waiting for you, dearie. You know the way," she said, a warm smile on her face.
Lucy nodded, giving her a similar smile of her own. "Thank you, Mrs. Longbottom."
Mrs. Longbottom shook her head at the girl in front of her. "I think that at this point, we're acquainted well enough for you to call me Hannah, Lucy."
Lucy's smile widened a bit. "Of course. Thank you, Hannah. Tell your husband I said hello and that I look forward to seeing him when I return to Hogwarts."
"Naturally. I'll give him the message, now go, go—shoo shoo! I know you want to go see Scorpius, there's no need to wait around. I've got a few customers to tend to as well."
Lucy smiled one last time before setting off towards the designated place she was to meet him at. It didn't take her much time at all to find the all-too familiar door. Her hand curled around the doorknob and she opened the door. Stepping inside, she spotted Scorpius almost immediately, who had stood up upon her arrival. Shutting the door, she wet her lips briefly. A genuine grin of pure happiness graced Lucy's face for the first time that day and she sprinted towards his outstretched arms that engulfed her the second she dug her head into the crook of her best friend's neck.
"I missed you too," he said with a chuckle and she pulled away, still positively beaming.
The room was a shade of pale pink, filled with several frilly things. How the two least frilly people came to bond in this Valentine's Day-esque parlor, no one was sure, but they didn't question it. This was their room, their sanctuary, and that was all there was to it. Settling herself on the right side of the scarlet loveseat, she curled her body together, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms tightly wrapped around them. Scorpius sat on the left side with his arms stretched on either side of the loveseat. Her side was pressed against his, as the seat wasn't exactly the largest one, but neither of them minded. They often had physical contact with one another anyways.
"So, how're your parents, Scorp?" she asked hesitantly, which he caught onto.
Scorpius shrugged at the question, mainly because little to nothing had changed. "Same as usual, Luce. My dad thinks my mum's an irritating, self-serving bint and she thinks he's a stupid, worthless prat and neither of them know why they got married to begin with. Like I said, nothing new."
This was exactly why he and he alone understood her; because he was going through the exact same thing in his life. His parents' marriage went up in flames at this point as well. He knew what it was like to be neglected by his parents because they were too busy hating each other. Draco Malfoy and Astoria Malfoy (or Greengrass, rather, since she too wanted nothing to do with her husband) no longer loved each other, just as her parents didn't love each other anymore as well. It was ironic, and yet, the only remotely good thing that came out of it was that it helped them find each other.
"They love you, you know," she reasoned quietly, looking up at him. He snorted cynically.
"If they loved me, they'd just separate and stop wasting their time," he muttered.
"At least they tell you that they love you, Scorpius. I haven't heard that since I was nine, unless you count me leaving for Hogwarts, and they don't even do that. You ought to be lucky that they try to stop fighting in front of you, for your sake if not their own."
Lucy didn't want to admit it, but even in their similar predicaments, she was green with envy. She was jealous of Scorpius and wished that her parents would stop for a minute to take the time to tell her that they loved her, and that they'd have meals with her. Breakfast didn't exist at their home, only snacks, and neither did lunch. Dinner was a private affair: her mum would cook the food and they'd separate; her father would be in the den; her mother would be in her bedroom; Lucy would eat either in the dining room or her bedroom. If Molly were here, they'd suck it up, put a tight smile on their face just like they did in front of the rest of the Weasleys (and the world) and try to have a civilized conversation.
A sigh left his lips and his right hand raked through his blond hair, his piercing gray eyes meeting her doe-eyes for a moment. "I suppose, but it doesn't make things better."
"I know."
They sat in silence for a moment and Lucy directed her attention to the small coffee table in front of them, which had teas, cakes, and cookies already on it, no doubt thanks to the work of Mrs. Longbott—Hannah, the landlady. She reached over and daintily placed two small cakes on a small plate, taking one and offering the other to Scorpius, who accepted it with a quick nod. They ate in silence, sipping their tea. The silence was not awkward, but rather, inviting. They both needed a little silence in their lives, she thought. When they finished, she unfurled herself and glanced over at him, scooting closer to him, and his arm wrapped itself around her shoulders, which was a natural instinct for him, and they continued to sit in their comfortable silence. She rested her head on his shoulder lightly, noting that he smelled of forest and spice, a scent that she loved. He was the first to break the silence.
"Galleon for your thoughts?"
Lucy looked at him seriously for a moment, unsure as to whether or not she should share her thoughts. Then again, he was her best friend, the person that understood her like no other; if she couldn't tell him, who could she tell? No one, that's who, she answered herself in her head with what appeared to be with finality. Not only did he have the uncanny ability to make her laugh like a madwoman as well as read her like an open book, but many of their conversations were serious, the occasional bit of dry humor they shared inserted into the conversation here and there.
"What if it's a sign, Scorpius? What if love's supposed to be like that? What if relationships are supposed to end with anger? What if they're meant to be short-lived? I don't want to fall in love—I just don't want to love at all, because I'm afraid of what might happen if I do," she admitted.
Scorpius pulled her to his chest immediately, feeling her dig her head into the crook of his neck once more. His nose was buried in her dark brown, almost black, hair, and taking the slightest whiff, he recognized the scent to be one of lilacs and strawberries—it was a scent he very much enjoyed, if he was being honest—but only Lucy could pull off such a thing, and yet, he was unsure how. He stroked her hair, smoothing it out a little for her. His calloused fingers ran through her soft, dark brown locks as he gazed down at her. Her breathing was deep, he could feel her warm breath lingering, soaking through his white shirt and breezing over his chest like the thumping of baby bunny paws. He kissed her hair, something very characteristic of their relationship. Whenever either of them were down or something of the sort, it was not unlikely to see either of their lips pressed against the other person—in a friendly way, of course, nothing more than that.
"Marriages aren't always like that, Luce. We were both stuck with seeing that sort of thing, but don't give up hope. Some people fall too fast and too hard, not realizing that it just might not work. By the time they figure it out, it's already too late, but that doesn't mean a thing, Luce, it doesn't. Don't let them make you think that way. Relationships like that don't accomplish a thing, so what? Don't let them ruin your hope, because love isn't supposed to be like that."
Lucy pulled her head off of his chest to look him dead in the eye, and indeed, he was serious. The way he spoke was almost as if he'd never experienced the hardships of seeing a failed relationship—a marriage, no less—he spoke of optimism and hope, either of those things she wasn't entirely sure she had, if she was being completely honest with herself.
"I don't want to be close to anyone, Scorp...you're the only person I have now. The only thing I see in marriage seems to be unhappiness, and I don't want that...I just...I just don't. Is there something wrong with me?" she asked him, completely serious. His soft lips descended down and brushed against the skin of her forehead tentatively, before pressing themselves against her forehead in a caring gesture that warmed her insides. It was times like this that made her feel like a small child, and in a way, she was. She'd been forced to grow up and tend to herself at such a young age, she never had time to act like a little girl, to be comforted by someone who cared for her, and here he was, doing what no one else had ever done for her. He meant the world to her, and she meant the world to him, and that meant more to her than she could possibly verbalize. She couldn't begin to vocalize how much he meant to him.
"No, there's nothing wrong with you. Anyone else in our situation would feel that way, too."
"But you don't, Scorp. You don't feel that way."
"I..." he hesitated for a moment, "I have hope and I have faith. Other people have relationships that work, Luce. I know that, and I keep that in mind every chance I get."
"But Scorp..."
"But nothing," he told her, his voice firm. Something inside of him had changed, and now more than ever, he was determined to convince her that love was there, in all different forms, and that not all of it was meant to crash and burn like she thought they would. Their friendship hadn't, and the last thing he needed was to let himself down by not showing her what he needed to show.
"Love is a fragile thing, Lucy. It's...it's delicate, like a porcelain doll. Life can bring endless possibilities, and honestly, love is one of them. Love is what we, as people, can get right, if we just try. I'll be here for you forever, and if that doesn't mean anything to you, I don't know what else to say. I'm never going to leave and I'm never going to ever let you leave. I don't think either of us could live without the other. I'd go crazy without having my best friend by my side. And those standards about love that you have? Those are bridges, Luce—we can burn each and every bridge if we want to, if only we give it a chance. So what do you say, Lucy? Give it a chance?"
Lucy stared at Scorpius, taking in his words, his thoughts that he'd spilled, his feelings that seemed to mingle and intertwine with hers—she took everything about him in, and in that moment, she felt safer and more loved than any other time in her life. She had two options, one choice, and her decision could change anything and everything.
"I'll burn the bridges with you, Scorpius."
The light that lit his face spread to her, lighting her face as well. Lucy and Scorpius stared at each other, her clear blue orbs locked in a fierce gaze with his piercing gray ones. For once, she felt as if everything would be okay. She was willing to get herself together and be anything he wanted, because she knew he would do the same for her in a heartbeat. Everything would be fine, if only she would let it. He'd said that herself, and he knew more than anyone what it was like. And as they sat there on the scarlet loveseat in the light pink parlor inside the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance of Diagon Alley located somewhere in the midst of London, England, which felt as if it was far, far away from home with his pale, toned arms wrapped around her slender body, everything just felt...right.
And they were burning every bridge along the way.
Wow, I finally finished this. I'm really surprised, and sad. There was a lot more I could write about these two...I didn't even realize how much I would like this couple until I wrote it. I'm impressed with myself, but I felt like I rushed the end a bit, so I apologize for that. Please, if you do have the time, reading and reviewing would be lovely and much appreciated! I sincerely enjoy receiving feedback from all of you.