A/N: Written for a plethora of different competitions. The ones it's entered in and the prompts are listed at the end of the document. I'm not JKR and the characters belong to her. I'm not Taylor Swift and the song that loosely inspired this piece belongs to her.
Word Count: 2,548
Rating: T
Warnings: Non-explicit mentions of sex.
The Sky at Dawn
He was a rock star. The lead singer in the band Wizards and Wrackspurts, and he had been on three world tours before he turned twenty-two. I was the daughter of the Minister for Magic and always in the public eye. Witch Weekly only caught my attention if my name wasn't somewhere on the front page. That didn't happen often. The first time we appeared on the cover of the popular magazine together, it was two separate pictures with one caption: Romance sparks between rock star and political A-lister? Lysander Scamander and Molly Weasley seen together in Diagon Alley.
We were never intimidated by each other. When we would run into each other occasionally, my mind would always go back to when we were seven and racing each other on toy broomsticks around my Grandma Molly's backyard and how he fell off and I refused to go back to help him until I'd reached the finish line. He told me once that whenever he saw me in dress robes with my blonde hair done up nicely, he'd think about when we were first years and how I spilled an entire pot of dirt all over myself during Herbology.
We shared a childhood. We shared the spotlight. It was inevitable that one day we would share our love.
It happened one day after he played a show in London. Roxanne insisted on going. "It's Wizards and Wrackspurts!" she called as she dragged me out of the flat we shared.
"It's Lysander Scamander," I said unenthusiastically as I ran a brush through my hair. "We grew up with him."
"Maybe so, but now he's in a band! He's famous!"
"We're all famous. My dad's the Minister. Yours runs the best joke shop in the world. We're nieces of Harry Potter. Who cares?" My voice remained calm as I searched my closet for the best Muggle clothes I owned. Once I was ready, Roxanne reached out and grasped my wrist, turning on the spot and Apparating to an alley near the concert.
I hated to admit it, but they were really good. Lysander deserved his fame, and probably a lot more than I deserved mine. But regardless of whether I merited it, fame was mine, and used it to walk backstage after the show to find him.
"You aren't half bad, Ly," I said, walking into his dressing room without bothering to knock. He wasn't half bad, no, but he was definitely only half dressed. That made it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying to me. He'd inherited his father's body; slim and built and tall, with his mother's pale blonde hair and blue eyes. Merlin, he was gorgeous, and I found myself wondering how I'd never noticed.
"I thought you didn't like rock much," he said.
"Yeah, well, Roxanne dragged me. Had hold of my wrist and Apparated here before I could say no."
"Well I'm glad you came. Stay a minute, have a drink? For old times' sake?"
A minute turned into several hours, accompanied by slurred confessions of childhood crushes and memories from the years we spent together. I teased him about his Hogwarts relationship with Kaelyn Finnigan, and he made fun of the string of short relationships that had been my Hogwarts career. A drunken invitation to his hotel room followed, and that was where I woke up the next morning. Despite the catalyst, the relationship that developed between us was founded not on a drunken one-night stand but on the childhood friendship that led up to it.
We were perfect for each other. Every tabloid we came across said so.
I Apparated to his shows whenever I got the chance, and he made sure to accompany me to all my father's black-tie events. He'd put away his strange Muggle clothing in favor of formal robes, take my arm, and walk me gracefully down the red carpet like some sort of prince. It didn't take long for my father to get over the fact that he was a rock star, and Lysander was invited to more family gatherings as an adult than he had been as a child.
"I love you, Molly," Lysander would whisper to me on the nights he was home. He would hold me close and run a hand through my hair, and I would eye my empty left ring finger longingly. I was sure it was only a matter of time.
Then, one morning after I'd stayed over at his mansion, Lysander yawned and kissed my cheek. I was still half-asleep, since we had only just gone to bed a few hours beforehand, and by the time I roused myself enough to roll over to greet him, he was out of bed and mostly dressed. "Where are you going?" I mumbled as he wandered around his messy bedroom looking for clothes to wear.
"I have to go up to Aberdeen, remember? It's just for a week, though. I'll write you. Now get some sleep, it's still early."
I was too tired to question why he wasn't taking me with him. He always took me with him. I didn't think about why he dismissed me with an "I'll write." I was asleep before he finished shutting the bedroom door.
When I awoke properly that afternoon, I began to rummage around his room for my clothes and stuff them into my bag. My pyjamas had consisted of one of Lysander's t-shirts, and as I changed into proper clothes for the day, I hesitated with his shirt in my hand. At the last moment, I tossed it in my bag as well, something to remember him by for the week he would be gone. I'd spent nearly every night with him for the last six months. A week was going to be a long time.
Something felt terribly off during those seven days. I dismissed it to myself as just missing him, as the now-unfamiliar routine of spending my time in the flat I still shared with Roxanne. I didn't eat much and skived a few of my father's less interesting events with the excuse of a stomachache. When he insisted I visit Grandma Molly to make sure I'd be all right, I started attending again, but I could tell that the luster was gone from my eye.
The week passed and Lysander hadn't attempted to contact me at all. I didn't know where in Aberdeen he was, and the next show for Wizards and Wrackspurts wasn't scheduled for another month. I couldn't sleep. I Apparated out to the countryside where I could watch the stars, away from the glow of London. A meteor shower started. I absentmindedly wondered if this is what it felt like for stars to die.
Three weeks later, I still hadn't heard from him. During those weeks, my emotions couldn't make up their mind - first I was upset, then enraged, then scared for his life. What could make him leave me? I didn't know. I was sure something had to be wrong, no matter the number of excuses Roxanne made for Lysander's silence. Then, finally, in the middle of the day, an owl came. I removed the note from his leg and sent him on his way, and with trembling hands, I opened the letter.
Molly, this isn't exactly how I wanted to tell this to you, and you know how much you mean to me. But while I was in Aberdeen, I ran into Kaelyn Finnigan and it turns out she was never really over our relationship, and one thing led to another and - I'm sorry, Molly. You'll always be my best friend though.
All my love,
Lysander
"Liar! You're a liar! You can't sign a break up letter with 'all my love.' That's just - it's sick." I lost my voice for sobbing and collapsed onto Roxanne's waiting shoulder.
"You knew this might have happened, Mol. He was so attentive to you, when we were kids, when you started dating - you had to have known there was a reason he didn't even write for three weeks."
"Yeah, I know, Rox. But it doesn't make it any easier."
Mum dragged me along to a Muggle opera that night. It was a tragedy - I could understand that much without understanding the Italian at all. And as the curtain closed and the finale ended and the actors came back onstage for a final bow, I was reminded of Lysander again. We were both stars in our own right, and part of a beautiful story that began in childhood. But stories aren't the same if they just keep on going. Stories end. Our finale had passed; the curtain had dropped; I was supposed to move on.
But I couldn't.
I had always been so strong, but without Lysander I felt myself becoming fragile, like I could break at any second. It turns out falling is a lot like flying except you have a more permanent destination. Time passed. I couldn't let him go, couldn't get myself out of the pit that I'd fallen into without him, so I sat alone in an empty house because Roxanne had started dating someone and never came home anymore. I don't think she wanted to be around me much. Not that I could blame her. I didn't want to be around me much either.
The t-shirt I borrowed - stole, I guess, is how it seems now - from Lysander the last time I saw him was over-large and made me look frumpy. It was the only concrete conclusion I could come to after some untold hours in front of the mirrored closet doors in my bedroom. I'd been sitting there so long that the carpet had started to make indents in my bare legs, but I didn't care much. My mind was still preoccupied with Lysander.
Everything seems to happen at a faster pace, a deeper intensity, when you're famous. I remembered playing in the backyard at the Burrow with Lysander when we were seven. It was so simple, chasing each other around on toy broomsticks, poking fun while his mother talked to my grandmother. Then dad became Minister. Then we graduated Hogwarts and Lysander started a band. Then, finally, we happened. Long overdue, but it was far too soon, it turns out. Twenty-two is too young to fall in love with your best friend. Or too old. It's the wrong age, at any rate, because especially when you're a rock star, your twenties are about having fun, not about settling down with the girl next door (famous or not) and starting a family.
If only we'd waited. If only we hadn't been drunk and overeager and too willing to jump in. Maybe it would've worked out between us, if we took our time, waded slowly into love. But maybe not. If only we could have found out. If only. Those might be the two saddest words in the world.
Different memories from over the years came flooding back to me, most of them from the six short months of our relationship. I thought about how he normally looked, hair down to his shoulders, a bit of a shaggy beard on his face, the way he sauntered along, hands in his pockets, because he knew he was a rock star. It was nothing like when he first was reintroduced to my father as my boyfriend. He had shaved his beard, combed through his hair, put on an acceptable outfit. He stood tall and stiff, almost like he was imitating Dad, shaking hands as if it wasn't a man he had known for as long as he could remember. I loved him all the more that day, and told him so.
We attended a Ministry ball together over the summer. I had dressed up all fancy, hair done up elaborately, and stood along the sidelines of the ballroom while people waltzed across the floor. Lysander came back from the drinks station empty handed. "Dance with me."
"No. I hate dancing."
"Please? I'm a wonderful lead, I promise. I'll take care of you, Mol. I always have."
I couldn't help but smile and take his outstretched hand. He pulled me around the floor, his rhythm making up for my lack thereof. It was the best dance of my life, with kisses interspersed throughout, and neither of us cared that the press was there and that our picture was being taken. When we saw the Witch Weekly that featured our dance, Lysander just turned to me and said it was the best night of his life. That was three weeks before he left for Aberdeen.
Breakups are hard for anybody, but it's worse when it's being documented and you see the person's picture everywhere. When I finally got up the courage to leave my flat and walk through Diagon Alley under a dull gray sky, I saw three posters advertising Wizards and Wrackspurts, Lysander dancing like he always did. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was playing one of their singles. Witch Weekly was worst and I saw his arm wrapped around Kaelyn Finnigan's waist and he had a twinkle in his eye that was just a little brighter than it had ever been with me. The caption of the photograph noted exactly the same thing. I hated this. Sometimes I felt like I knew more about his life now than when we were a couple. All I had to do was walk through Diagon Alley and I could watch his life in pictures like I used to watch him sleep. And with every passing day, I could feel him forget me the same way I used to feel him breathe when I was wrapped up inside his arms.
I picked up the few things I needed from the Alley, then turned to stare at one of the band's posters. I let my arms go slack and rested my head against his, whispering to the picture that couldn't talk back. "All I know is that I don't know how to be something you'll miss." Then, before I did anything more rash than talking to a poster, I Apparated back to the flat.
Our last kiss, our very last kiss, was uneventful. But I would always remember it. We lay in the bedroom at his mansion, large windows on the wall opposite looking out over the countryside. He held me close and we were both exhausted. He told me he loved me seven different times that night. Outside, the blackness of the night sky was changing and dawn approached. "Ly, look outside."
He did, then took my hand and the bed sheet and we walked over to the window. "It's beautiful, Mol. Everyone always says that sunset is the most beautiful time of day, but I don't think they are ever awake to see the sky at dawn."
I smiled and rested my head against his shoulder. He pulled away, then tilted my chin up to kiss me. It was a sweet tender kiss, grown again out of years of friendship. We didn't kiss for long, but he held me, staring out at the sky until birds began to sing. At their song, we went back to bed to sleep away the last few hours of our romance.
A/N: For the NEW Ultimate Taylor Swift Competition with the song "Last Kiss" by Taylor Swift and the prompts: fragile; "If only. Those must be the two saddest words in the world."; gray; an empty house.
For the Song Fic Boot Camp with the prompt: Finale.
For the Stars and Constellations Competition with the prompts: "Sagittarius. A swarm of many stars. Star chains. Contains some young, hot stars." The title "The Sky at Dawn." "Falling's just like flying but with a more permanent destination." and "Scared."
Also for the Pairing Love Competition, with the pairing (which I chose myself).
