Stumbling Ever so Lightly

by: Lovelyrubberboots

Disclaimer: if you recognize it I don't own it...

Thanks in advance for reveiws!

Tipsy – no, drunk. They were drunk. Louis had never been drunk, but he was sure of it as they stumbled every so lightly across Hogwarts grounds, holding each other up. She had been drunk before – this much he knew. But he had never been so drunk. How much firewhiskey had he had? He wasn't sure, no not sure at all – his head was spinning, ever so slightly. He could barely remember how they'd gotten out of where they'd been drinking – a small, hidden crevasse in a tree she'd somehow dragged him into. It had been enlarged. It was the world he'd only dreamed about from his room in Hufflepuff. It was the world of Lucy Weasley where there was elf wine, firewhiskey, goblin vodka and more. The amount of alcohol had been astonishing, but the people who were at the party in the tree were not. They were Lucy's people – the Victoire Weasleys, the Alexander Woods, the Olivia Zabinis, the James Potters of the world. The people who had everything and more. The people very much unlike him.

All his weight was on her, all her weight was on him and he didn't entirely mind. No, actually he didn't mind at all, and clearly in his mind he cleared her of all past wrong doings and, again silently proclaimed her to be his favorite cousin. His favorite cousin who had been drunk when he'd arrived, and had even more to drink while he'd been there and still more long after everyone else in the tree had left, around… well, he wasn't sure when around, but he knew that at this moment he could see the tips of the sun on the horizon and that the hour was probably close to 5am. How was she awake still? How was he awake still?

Oh Cousin Lucy. How he'd hated her when they were young. Her with her shiny black hair, Weasley freckles, tall, tan and thin. Her who had attracted countless men, with little more than 'hello'. Her who was always, always one step ahead of the crowd – charming, smart, funny, loved. Her who tonight had, finally, finally, finally shown one flaw. One glaring flaw that had dissolved all his hate for her, all his bad will.

Cousin Lucy, how could he have misjudged her so? How could he have missed it? Perhaps it was only in his drunken state that it was so glaring obvious. She said something to him, laughing as they trekked past the greenhouse. He looked over at her tear stained cheek, her make-up still oddly perfect thanks to a number of spells she'd undoubtedly learned about before even Witch Weekly knew. It was a ruse. No, not a ruse. It wasn't fake – she really was happy, she really loved her life but she wasn't perfect, her life wasn't everything that he'd thought it was, safe in his own bed, safe in his own life.

She's started crying soon after Elliot Petrola the last man in the tree had left, giving her a kiss on the cheek. At the time Louis had thought nothing of it as he swayed back and forth on his seat wondering how many calories the many shots and drinks he'd consumed contained and how they might translate to his already chunky frame. He remembered looking at Elliot and thinking he could never look like him without the aid of polyjuice potion.

"I love him." Lucy had said between cracked breathes that were full of tears. It caught Louis off guard, as Lucy poured herself another drink. She could hold her liquor better than him. "I am maybe starting to sober up, and I think it's needed that I drink this Lorcan… Louis. Louis." She corrected herself and threw back another shot of the firewhiskey, spilling a portion on herself. And, before Louis could process what was happening she'd thrown back a large gulp of a mysterious looking black liquid that the group had not allowed Louis to have or know what it was – someone had spilled and mentioned vampires, but that hadn't meant much to Louis. He parents weren't big on drinking, but apparently Lucy's pre-ministry workers and prefect, athletes' club was. It shouldn't have surprised him. There had always been rumors about them, but nothing concrete, but believable. Yet, because of who they were no one cared about the number of times Alexander Wood had been found without pants on, wandering through the castle by other prefects. No one cared that Heidi Burns had showed up to her OWLs severely hung over – she'd gotten all O's and looked great doing it, hadn't she?

"What do you have to cry about?" he probably hadn't said it as clearly, but the words had gotten across to Lucy somehow and she's begun to spill, drinking occasionally throughout the long story that was filled mostly with sobbing, but also with laughter.

She told him about when she'd lost her virginity at 14, drunk and with the Head Boy, of drunken sleepovers where she woke up tangled in the arms of various people, of black outs, of the terrible downfall of Helen Nurman, who'd died a year earlier. There were stories – horrible ones of drugs, of numerous pregnancies (not involving Lucy but within her crowd), of injuries and events all of which were laughed about, laughed off within their group. Stories of rumors, of gossip, some true, some not but all horrible nonetheless… and yet – Lucy had cried harder. She hated to admit it, but she loved it. She loved being a part of it, of being wanted, of being loved even within her toxic, incestuous group of friends.

And with that note they had left, stumbling to the Hufflepuff dorm. He promised himself, as they fell down into his bed and into a deep sleep, that, if he remembered, what she'd told him he couldn't breathe a word. And even if he couldn't remember what she'd told him, he promised himself before falling asleep that he'd always remember to be there for her, even in some small, unnoticeable way.

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