the girl who wasn't molly
i. not molly
"I am not Molly," she whispers, when the Sorting Hat asks her if she wants to be in Hufflepuff like her goody-two-shoes sister.
But you could be, it says. Isn't that what you've wanted? You've got determination and a desire to please.
"No. I want to be different. I don't want to be like anyone else in my family."
So clever, so loyal, so brave. But if you're sure.
"I am."
Alright then, better be… "SLYTHERIN!"
ii. not a gryffindor
"Are you another Gryffindor Weasley?"
"No!" she replies, a storm cloud passing across her face. "I'm Lucy, and I'm a Slytherin."
She's promised herself that she'll never be a Gryffindor, and she'll never be a Weasley. She's just Lucy. She's not terribly brave, and she's not terribly clever, and she's not a bloody Hufflepuff, whatever that is.
Molly's disappointed in her, of course, but sweet little Molly would never say so. She just pats her on the back and says "That's okay, mum and dad will understand," and she's so nice that Lucy just can't stand it anymore. When she snaps, she regrets in.
"Molly! Can't you just accept that I'm not going to be a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff or whatever else you want me to be? I'm Lucy! I'm just Lucy! I'm not you!"
After storming off to sulk in the dungeons, she discovers that she actually feels terrible about it. The next day at supper, she owls Molly a chocolate frog that she bribed one of her friends to get from Hogsmeade.
This isn't an apology, the card reads. I just felt bad.
Molly smiles at her from across the hall, and Lucy scowls. Scorpius grins at her from across the table.
"What is it this time, Luce?"
"Nothing." She stands up. "I'm going to bed."
iii. losing faith
Lucy is losing faith in herself; in her family; in her life. Sometimes she wonders if she really knew what she was doing, getting herself into Slytherin. They taunt her, they tease her for her Weasley heritage.
"They didn't even like you enough to let you look like a Weasley!" they say. Lucy tugs self-consciously at her brown hair—from her mother—and decides then and there that she's going to change something.
When she owls Victoire, she's glad that her oldest cousin has never been one to fret about her. She gets a simple "I hope you know what you're doing, Lucy" and the bottle she wanted. She does it in the middle of the night, so no one sees her.
When she wakes up the next morning, she notices whispers and stares. Well, more whispers and stares than usual. To make things worse, Molly had the guts to walk across the Great Hall to confront her at breakfast.
"What did you do?" she hisses. Her new white-blonde hair is a foot shorter than her old long brown hair, and Lucy loves it.
"I did what I wanted this time, Molly."
Molly shakes her head and walks away, while Lucy grins impishly. "Mum's going to find out," Molly insists, but she won't.
But Lucy knows that's not the end of the conversation.
iv. a conversation
She's cornered by her sister after Charms that day. It's getting too dark outside, and throughout the castle the candles have been lit in anticipation of a storm.
"Lucy, what's gotten into you?" she asks, her face conveying more than just disappointment. She's sad; her shoulders carry the weight of someone carrying another.
"Molly, you're not our mum. I can take care of myself; please don't worry about me."
"That's the thing, though, Luce. I don't know if you can. I hear them too, you know, talking about my sister. I just want you to be okay." Lucy thinks there's a teardrop on Molly's face, but it's too dark to be sure.
Defiance flows through Lucy's veins. "Molly, I don't have to be you. I don't have to be anyone else."
"I never said you had to be-"
"I'll never be you! I'll never be a perfect little Hufflepuff, I'll never be a Ravenclaw like Rose or Dominique, I'll never be a Gryffindor like Roxanne or Lily or Victoire, and I'll never, ever be a Weasley! Besides," she spits out. "I don't sneak down to the greenhouses in the middle of the night with my own cousin."
Molly blushes furiously. "That is none of your business, Lucy."
"And it's none of my business that Albus does things he shouldn't and James doesn't go to class and Rose isn't as good as she seems and I'm not the perfect child! It's just you, Molly! You're the only one who keeps up that little perfect façade! And even you aren't perfect. I did mention Roxanne?"
Molly turns on her heel. "Lucy, you don't know what you've done."
v. consequences
Lucy is more alone than ever, and not in the way she thought. Now that she's proven she's more than just her family, her housemates respect her. But that's the worst part. They don't talk to her, they don't smile at her, they just leave her alone.
Being a Slytherin is a solitary life, she thinks. This isn't what I wanted.
For the rest of the school year, she survives. That's what she thinks of it as—not living, not thriving, not enjoying, just surviving. Gradually, she learns how to do that.
Lucy has a secret now. She likes being alone. She likes having her sister ignore her—isn't that what she always wanted? She likes it that mum and dad have stopped owling—that's for little kids. She likes it that no one talks to her—they're all prats anyways. She likes it that she doesn't do anything with other people—it leaves her more time to ace her Potions essays and explore the castle.
After all, Lucy Weasley isn't like anyone else. She's special.
vi. a summer fling
Scorpius Malfoy. A Slytherin. A friend.
When Lucy holds hands with Scorpius, when he comes over to the house in the summer, it feels like more than friendship. When Molly and Roxanne, newly graduated, giggle over the couple, it feels special. When Audrey makes tea sandwiches and invites him over for the afternoon, it feels like maybe Lucy won't be alone after all.
"We're going into our last year at Hogwarts," he says. They're in the backyard, sitting on the swing attached to the biggest tree, where Lucy and Molly spent their childhood days reading books and talking about princes and school and what it was going to be like to go to Hogwarts.
(Spoiler: It was a lot different than they thought it would be.)
"Yeah, I know," Lucy replies, teasing him.
"What are you going to do? I mean, after?"
"Haven't really thought about it yet, I guess. You?"
"Well, I want to go somewhere else. I want to get out. Will you come with me?"
Lucy nods and tangles her fingers with his. "Of course."
vii. another life
In another life, maybe, she could have been everything. She could have been the perfect daughter, the best sister, the beautiful girlfriend. She is none of those things, and she knows it.
She's too rebellious, too Slytherin, too quiet, too alone.
"Why don't you spend more time with your cousins, Lucy?"
She won't tell them that the only cousin she even trusts is the one who's living in France. And she can't go there, because she's afraid she might run into Scorpius, who left without her, because she's always going to be alone, isn't she? She's always going to be the one who dug herself too deep of a hole.
James is an Auror now, because he's just like his dad. Albus is working at St. Mungo's, because he's a little too good to be working in the pharmacist division (but Lucy would never spill his secret). Lily is playing Quidditch, because she has to get along with her mum so much better than Lucy; she has to outdo Lucy in everything.
Of course Rose is head of her department in the Ministry, whatever nice little smart department that is. Lucy would never work there. Hugo is shadowing James, hoping to follow in his favorite cousin's footsteps.
Fred is working in the joke shop, Roxanne is off starting a cupcake business with Molly as her business partner, Louis is studying abroad, Dominique is training under Ollivander, and Victoire is too close to the last person she wants to see.
She knew that she would be the last one. She knows now that she was always meant to be alone, always meant to be the one left behind, always meant to be the different one. But she made that choice for herself, didn't she? The day that she sat on that stool with a hat on her head and said "I want to be different." She walked down her path, dug her grave, and inscribed her tombstone. Here lies Lucy Weasley, the girl who ended up alone.
viii. a sad melody
Her life has become nothing other than a sad melody, drifting through the air alone, with no one to hear it.
If she sings her sad melody to the forest and there's no one there to hear it, does she still sing?
She doesn't know. And that scares her, most days.
Victoire floos home because her mum and dad are worried about her, and Lucy speaks to someone for the first time in…well, a very long time.
"Why?"
"I'm alone, Vic. I'm alone and I don't know where to go. And the worst part? The worst part is that it's my own bloody fault."
"You're not alone, Lucy." She puts two fingers under your chin and tilts your head up until you're forced to look her in the eyes. "You're never alone. You just have to reach out, okay? Stop being so sad all the time, and just have fun. Go out. See friends. You have plenty of family who would be more than willing to drop everything if you asked."
"Really?"
"We love you, Luce. You just can't see it sometimes." Victoire kisses her forehead and exits the room.
For the first time, Lucy Weasley starts to believe that she is more than a Slytherin. She is more than a Weasley. She is more than alone. She is loved.
It's going to take her a little bit. But she'll make it.
A/N: For Xaverie, dear, because you're perfect. Written for the Camp Potter: Tech Discovery Competition.
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Allie