Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Summary: Twenty years from now, when they're married with kids, she'll point to this as the reason that she finally let her guard down: He's the only person that's never given up on her or hurt her in any way.

Trust

It drives him crazy how reserved and cautious she is, as if everyone in the world is out to get her. He wants to shout at her, to shake her, to tell her that he's on her side, for Merlin's sake, so why won't see just let him in, but he can't. He knows she won't believe him, no matter how many times he tells her—proves to her—that he's not like her family, that he'll never let her down.

Things could have been different. Would have been, if Molly hadn't always taken everything that she had ever wanted (toys, love, a spot on the quidditch team, boyfriends); if her parents hadn't constantly compared her (unfavorably) to her older sister and used her as a tool in their bitter divorce; if her cousins had ever made an effort to get to know her instead of just casting her off as cold and boring, entirely unworthy of their time.

And yet… he's glad that things turned out the way they did. He doesn't want her to be different. He loves her just the way she is, no matter how much she may annoy him at times. The only change he wants is for her to trust him, but at times that feels like an impossible goal. It's almost enough to make him wonder if it's worth it, luring her out of her shell, because his heart breaks a little every time she backs away.

But then she'll smile at him, holding a small white flower up to her nose as she lies in the grass, and the sight of her will take his breath away. In that moment, he'll know that she's worth it. He'll know that there's someone warm and caring and open buried underneath that hard, distant exterior because he'll be seeing it firsthand (and he'll pray to all that's holy that this time she won't go away, that this time she'll be here to stay).

"It's a hellebore," that Lucy will tell him, holding out the flower in question. "Beautiful, isn't it? I wish it weren't so poisonous; it'd be perfect to have around the house if it wasn't. Did you know—"

And he'll let her go on describing the flower, even though he already knows everything that she's telling him (Potions is his favorite class; he deals with hellebore all the time) because he loves the sound of her voice at moments like these. Quick and excited, the words all but bubbling out of her in her eagerness to share her knowledge. It'll go on for hours which seem like only minutes, with her occasionally glancing at her Herbology textbook to check her facts (silly because, where plants are concerned, she's never wrong), and he'll be enthralled.

Then, suddenly, she'll roll onto her back—careless (for once) of how muddy it makes her clothes, how disheveled her hair—and stretch her arms out wide. "I wish I could stay like this forever."

"Then stay," he'll say, not even caring how pathetic he sounds. He's past the point of downplaying how he strongly feels about her. "Just for a little bit longer."

"I've got homework to do," she'll reply, but she'll smile that smile that he likes to think of as only his and settle back down in the grass. He'll slide his arm under her and pull her a little closer to him, and she'll rest her head on his shoulder, and both of them will pretend that it's purely platonic.

But then, eventually, the sun will begin to set and they'll be forced to get up despite their wishes. She'll take out her wand to fix her appearance, and his heart will squeeze painfully (the way it does all too often in her presence) when her clothes are suddenly spotless and her hair perfectly coiffed. He loves her when she's messy and disheveled, immersed in the study of her plants, but he loves her when she's like this, too, all neat and tidy and adorable.

So he never really gives up on her, even when he's so tempted to do so, because he knows that she's worth the effort. And twenty years from now, when they're married with kids, she'll point to this as the reason that she finally let her guard down: He's the only person that's never given up on her or hurt her in any way.