This is for the Captaining the Next-Gen Armada: 33 non-cousincest het next-gen pairings mixed with a whole bunch of insanity:)
It started when it ended. Or, rather, when she gave up. Lucy Weasley gave up on magic mid-way through her time at Hogwarts, age fifteen.
He watched her fall apart starting a year earlier, and sometimes he snuck into her Common Room in the late hours of the night and watched her magic the bar and mirrors in the corner. She would pirouette and arabesque like it was the only thing holding to the earth, and it was.
Around four in the morning she would turn the already soft and quiet music to a stop and slip up to her dorm to put her pale pink ballet slippers in her trunk after kissing him lightly on the cheek.
;-;
She snaps in potions. She got two hours of sleep the night before, and she nearly collapses in the hallway on the way to the dungeons. He is walking next to her (he's always by her side) when she stumbles, so he steadies her and pushes her strawberry blonde hair out of her eyes.
"Lucy, are you-"
"Fine. Just…" she yawns, "tired."
"Do you want go back to your dorm, or go see Madame Chang? She would let you lay down for a while."
"I'm fine, Lorcan, really."
They walk slowly to the dungeons before taking their side-by-side seats.
;-;
She stirs the potions clockwise once, counter-clockwise six times and clockwise once again. She adds six porcupine quills and receives yesterday's potion grade (she's failed again) and feels tears forming in her Weasley blue eyes.
"Lucy, are you…okay? Are you sure you don't want to see Madame Chang?"
She shakes her head.
Professor Slughorn calls her up to the front to "have a word" and leads her out of the classroom.
"Are you alright, Miss Weasley? You seem…off."
"I…" she sniffles uncertainly. "I'm fine." She looks up at her professor without meeting his eyes.
"Miss Weasley… what's wrong?" he asks her gently.
"It's nothing, honestly. I just…I'm tired."
"Hmmm. I happen to know Headmistress McGonagall is out of her office at the present time. It might be of use to you to talk to one of the portraits there, he might know how to help you. The password's Albus."
Her eyes finally reach his, and he adds, "It's alright."
So she runs, her hair and robes blowing behind her.
;-;
"I'm just…so lost. I'm not fit to study magic, Professor. I'm failing every class, and I'm not getting any sleep because I've been dancing, and I don't have any friends except for Lorcan (Scamander, you know) and my family, save my aunts and uncles, dad (but hardly), but they have to pretend they like me, and most of my cousins ignore me, except Albus, because I'm not good enough for the rest of them." She's crying full out now, tears constantly dripping off the end of her nose. "Are there tissues in the office, Professor Dumbledore?"
The man in the portrait chuckles softly. "Yes, Lucy. Right over- no, other side…yes."
"Thanks, sir," she snuffles. The small girl sits in the Headmistress's chair, as it is closest to portrait.
"Not trouble at all. Now…you're lost." He thinks a moment. "You mentioned ballet in the Common Room?"
"Yes," she confesses meekly. "When everyone's gone to sleep I… go to the Common Room and conjure up a bar and a mirror, and sometimes a book on ballet instruction to practice. My mum was a Muggle dancer, see."
"I'm sure she was lovely."
"She was, she danced with so much grace and poise, it's like she was born to dance, and I always thought I was as well. She enrolled me in ballet when I was young, but since she…passed and I came to Hogwarts I haven't gone to a class and I miss it so much, but mostly I just miss her."
She watches as a lone tear rolls down his face, blurring into the silver-gray of his beard. "Do you want to keep studying magic?"
"Sir?"
"You don't have to stay here, if you don't feel that you belong. If your heart is telling you to dance, dance."
"I don't…belong here. I was born to dance, I think. But…the only person who understands is Lorcan."
"He will help you. I know it."
"Thank you."
"Thank you, Lucy."
;-;
"You're doing what?"
"Lor, I'm not fit to study magic. You watch me dance. It was my whole life, and it still is. I can't stay here."
"What were you planning on doing in the Muggle world? You're not of age, you can't pay for professional lessons without the support of your family, and you know it."
"Albus and James reluctantly agreed to help me pay and Al says I can stay with him and get a part-time job. I'll be fine."
"You won't. You know how irresponsible Albus is."
"He's not."
"Fine. He's responsible. But when you run out of food or money or whatever, don't come crying to me."
"Fine. Fine!" She yells shortly, tears burning a warpath down her cheeks.
;-;
"Umm, if Lorcan is here and gets this message, tell him to call me back, please." Delete.
"Please, Lorcan, if you're in London, stop by Al's…or the studio, I just-just need to talk to you." Delete.
"I miss you." A finger pauses over the delete button before a loud crack of Apparation fills the air, the words from her latest message replaying in his mind.
;-;
"Is Lucy Weasley here?"
The woman at the front desk looks up, annoyed. "First room on the left."
He thanks her graciously before taking off in a sprint.
The door to the studio bursts open, and loud music (The Nutcracker) and the scent of sweat fill the hallway. "Lucy!"
The music is stopped abruptly, and the instructor stops to glare at him and then at Lucy.
"May I…speak to Lucy for a moment?"
;-;
He's almost sure his claps and cheering are the loudest of everyone's, but it hardly matters.
;-;
When she emerges in her pale pink leotard and ballet slippers, he sweeps her up in his arms, and silences her laughing protests with a gentle kiss.
"You came," she says in awe.
"How could I not come to your first real performance? You had the starring role."
She laughs. "Not exactly."
"And I love you. That's why I came."
"And I love you, too."
;-;
So maybe it didn't start at the end, it started at the beginning.
this will probably be updated fairly infrequently for August, as I'll be starting Camp NaNoWriMo:)