A/N: Second entry for Camp Potter, and my first ever NextGen fic. Decided to challenge myself at writing second person, 'cause I usually hate it. Fell in love with this pairing (and the writing style) while I was writing them though. :) Enjoy!
Prompts used: Write about Lucy Weasley / Secret
Warning: Implied cousincest/forbidden feelings.
Over a Cup of Tea
You gaze at your annoying twerp of a cousin out of the corner of your eye. He is laughing at a joke Teddy has just made, white teeth flashing in a grin but he stifles it with a reluctant hand.
The sight causes an uncomfortable wrench in your gut. You don't know exactly why; you never do when you see him.
He leans towards his almost-brother, whispering to him. Mischief lights up his eyes as the two of them glance towards Victoire.
You drink your scalding tea, no longer being able to keep your eyes on him when he's looking at another. You've seen it too many times. You know that he likes Victoire despite Teddy's affections. Who wouldn't? She is as beautiful as ice, and sometimes just as cold, but that never seems to keep the boys away.
How can you compare to that?
You are just a Plain Jane, not particularly interesting or pretty, even if your father says otherwise. You have too many freckles to fit your face and your red lank hair is a constant charge of static.
Even your sister Molly is better looking than you, big nose and all.
The tea goes down the wrong way, and you splutter, awkwardly enough. Roxanne pauses in her story to ask if you're okay. All you can manage is a feeble nod.
Despite your better judgement, you look up and catch his eyes. You almost choke on your tea again, but you flush bright pink instead (like that's any better, though). Your own eyes widen at what you see in his. You turn away quickly.
Was that concern behind his heavy hazel scrutiny?
No… no, it couldn't be. Just a trick of the light, you tell yourself.
But you have to know, so you meet his intent look again. And it's something even more surprising.
The concern has softened into… something that you can't quite piece together. But that's good, right? Because at least that soft look is directed towards you, whatever it may be.
So you offer a timid smile, taking a sip of your cooling drink, hoping that your instincts are right.
The grin you receive for your efforts is dazzling, blinding, knocking the breath right out from your lungs.
And you choke on your tea again.
But you know that his smile wasn't mocking, so you don't mind so much that he saw you make a fool of yourself.
Because you are the one he's gazing at now.
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed it. I wrote it literally an hour before posting. :)
Please read and review!
~Lira