[Autumn 2025]

She couldn't stand people. That's what brought her to Ireland in the first place. There were so many people to escape - reporters, sisters, fathers who happen to be Minister for Magic - and she finally was Lucy. Just Lucy.

So why wasn't she at peace? Her only friends were hotel rooms and hands were distant lullabies. For a while she had Declan, but he left when she told him she thought she was pregnant. Now in the Cauldron O'Gold, she was feeling less than golden. A traveling violinist took up the room next to her, and its complaints kept her company.

A knock on the door. "Lucy, you in there?"

"Declan?" She pulled on a shabby coat and opened the door. "Why are you back?"

"You aren't pregnant?"

"No, I'm not."

"And you won't get pregnant?"

She batted her eyelashes, figuring out what it was he wanted. "Not if we're careful. Slightly less desperate."

"I came prepared. I just want another chance to put my arms around you." She leaned up for the inevitable kiss.

Lucy didn't love him. He wasn't the kind of person to drop a note on Sunday mornings, or walk her home, or ask her how her family was. He probably would never even kiss her goodnight. But he would give her a sleepless night, and sleepless nights were a kind of bitter oblivion. She was already lost in the chaos of her own life. She may as well forget herself, too.

Word Count: 247

For the Globetrotter Drabble Competition (Cairo).

For the Song Fic Boot Camp with the song "Paperthin Hymn" by Anberlin and the prompt people.