Oh Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. One of my favorite characters to have the privilege to write. Lucy's innocent and wild and intelligent and rebellious and romantic, or at least I think she is, so this drabble really threatened to go everywhere.

Warning: just a little bit of bad language is used. Don't read if that's going to offend you.

Word count: 270.

"I hate you!"

And they're kissing and she thinks that it's so infuriating that he's making her knees weak and her cheeks flush, so she pushes him away and slaps him across the face and screams again, "I hate you!" and maybe if she screams a little louder, she'll start to believe it.

She's Lucy Weasley and life's been handed to her on a silver platter but she's Lucy fucking Weasley, so she's pushed away the platter and laughed as it clattered to the floor.

He's the boy with sharp eyes and a soft tongue and he's built himself a throne in books and scrolls while she's still busy running from the golden crown that's been situated on her head since birth. And she hates that he had to work for it all and she didn't, but she can't blame herself for that so she decides to blame him.

"I hate you!"

"You don't mean that,"

And they're kissing again but this time she's the one who leaned forward and it's actually not bad, so much so that it's rather incredible and she wonders if his face still smarts from the slap.

She whispers "I love you," and it doesn't need to be said any louder, she already believes it.

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