Placebo

by: Lovelyrubberboots

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

Thanks in advance for reveiws!


Goblin vodka and blackberry juice. It was a grey drink and when Lorcan made it for Lucy, it spun his thoughts into confusion. The grey of the drink perfectly suited Lucy and when she'd had it and he kissed her, he could taste the bittersweet of the drink still in her mouth. It made his lips tingle in the strangest way and he wondering whether Lucy's cheeks burned for hours after Oliver had kissed her on them, in a friendly act of greeting. Even the thoughts of Dominique's lips made his lips tingle and his body like it was numb but floating at the exact same time.

And that was the way it'd always be, he supposed. Lucy sipped her drink and he sipped his elf made wine. He wondered whether she knew that he knew she was in love with Oliver. And he wondered whether Lucy knew that the cold grey of her drink reminded him of Dominique's eyes.

Was he terrible, her wondered, for pretending that's Lucy's brown eyes were Dominique's grey ones? That Lucy was freckle-less, that her brown hair was a lighter red, that she was slightly taller, slightly heavier. He wondered if she imagined his white skin to be black, his straight hair to be curly, and his thin frame to be broader.

After their drinks they would move to the bedroom, planning on nothing more than sleep. But yet, they knew that there'd be more, didn't they? Isn't that why he'd cast a contraceptive spell that morning? Wasn't that why she'd undoubtedly done the same? Was he complaining? Not entirely, after all, Lucy was very attractive, and he was having near nightly sex with her. But they both knew it was nothing more than that, because Lucy wasn't Dominique and he wasn't Oliver.

How had their lives become like this? It seemed only a few years ago that they were both happy, healthy seventh years, completely and utterly not in love with anyone else. But suddenly everything had changed and, just before he could make his move, Dominique had become swiftly engaged. When was it that Lucy had realized she loved Oliver? Lorcan didn't know, and as much as he tried not to care, he was curious. But he couldn't bring it up. Part of their unstated bond, their secret pact was that neither would mention the obvious.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, and holding her close breathed into her hair – it had almost no scent, and he was moderately disappointed. He was willing to bet that Dominique's hair smelt like something – maybe lavender.

For a moment he contemplated saying something. But what? "Lucy… we can't do this," he'd say. She wouldn't respond. No, she would – she'd say he was right and she'd leave, perhaps in tears, not out of sadness but of shame. And then, he'd sleep alone and so would she. Would they be happier? No, not necessarily, and with that thought he let it be, as she turned over and planted a kiss on his lips.

He groaned lightly as she pressed up against him, and he knew that again tonight they'd be together and, in the morning they'd see each other again. Because tomorrow was going to be a bad day. Tomorrow Dominque was getting married.


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