Marionette
Author's Note: For Rachel/ J Sorry it's late, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :D
Pairings: Victoire/Teddy/Lucy
She was always the fragile one, you know. The one who'd just stare at you, with those glassy, almost half dead eyes, and make you want to wrap in in cotton wool, tell her 'it's okay,' over and over. Maybe give her a big hug while you're at it.
And she'd just sit there, and give the occasional loll of her head, because inside was she just dead.
A walking ball of apathy
An empty shell.
A marionette.
And then he came.
The blue haired angel across the road.
He didn't wrap her in cotton wool, he didn't embrace her, pity her. He just spoke with her, simply listened to her, he merely smiled smiled at her. And she smiled back.
And so, little by little, Lucy grew. Not just in body, but in mind. He made her feel happy when he visited, sad when he departed, hopeful when he smiled at her, both despair and bliss when he called her his friend, and grew embarrassed when she thought of him.
He taught her the joy and wonder that could be found in simply understanding another.
It's such a shame fate doesn't enjoy a happy ending.
When the blonde succubus came and cut the marionette's strings with her razor-blade nails, and tore her heart, her angel, for her, leaving a splintered, broken body in her destructive wake, and as those heartbreaking cackles echoed through the room, Lucy learned a new emotion: spite.
And what a wonderful emotion it was.
Everyday and every night was spend in a frenzy of wild and sadistic thoughts, some far too foul and sick to mention, aimed for the witch that took away her purpose, her reason for living. When Dominique had found the child, cradled by her own appalling thoughts, the poor naïve girl let her willingness to help get in the way of common sense. And so, Dominique rebuilt her shattered body, carefully replacing each splinter in it's rightful place, but undoubtedly missing one single crucial piece.
As a consequence, Lucy Weasley was reborn a spiteful and heartless creature, with crazed eyes, and a Cheshire grin that shows no joy, happiness, or pleasure, only bared teeth.
Sleep tight, Victoire: you never know, Lucy might be merciful. But then, you stole her heart away, so don't count on it.
AN:
ANGST-HORROR-ROMANCE-ANGST-HORROR-ROMANCE-ANGST-HORROR-ROMANCE
Urgh, now I think about it, I really think this suits Dominique (AXE CRAZGETTEHF*CKAWAY FROMMAHTEDDIERAAAAGE!) more than Lucy (Oooh, lookie - a nargle!). But hey ho. (But seriously I need to stop writing angst romance combos- I can get a bit dull after a while)
AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY RACHEL! AGAIN!