More than halfway through! Also, I'm not exactly well versed in ballet, myself not being the graceful sort, so correct me if I'm wrong.

x. tiny (skinny) dancer

She was the quieter sister, when compared to outgoing, lovable Molly. The smart, quiet, perfectionist Ravenclaw.

But these smarts only extended into what she liked to refer to as the 'two groups'. Group A was schoolwork, group B was dancing.

As expected, little Lucy Weasley was the top of her year, known for spending hours upon hours each night working and sometimes turning quite cranky when disturbed. Though, no one really disturbed her often. No actually heard her speak much, with the exception of the occasional question or answer in class.

What wasn't expected was her affinity for dance, specifically ballet.

Like her schoolwork, she was completely driven to perfecting every move she learned over the years. Even as a first year, it was not uncommon for anyone to walk into the common room and see her doing plié relevé whilst dictating an essay via a (new and improved) quick notes quill, simply so she was practicing her dance.

It was the beginning of her third year though, when everything changed; all due to a pair of shoes.

The pale pink point shoes, a gift from her mother, were her prized possession. She carried them around everywhere with her, not allowing them out of her sight.

Practice practice practice until everything was perfect. And as her moves were becoming more satisfactory and her grades were consistently high, she needed something else to make absolutely correct.

She found it in the mirror of her dorm on a chilly October evening. Turned sideways and dismayed to see a bump extending over her jeans. She sucked in her stomach, reveling in the flatness of it. But she couldn't hold her breath forever, the only other solution was to make it disappear permanently.

The first two weeks were the hardest.

But it became easier (far too easy) and Little Lucy was slowly becoming Tiny Lucy and ever observant, Lorcan was afraid she would just disappear one day.

Nearly anything she wore looked to big on her and her collarbone and hipbones and sholder blades protruded too much. She was tired more often, her tiny body sapping her strength. And for her, it made dancing so much harder. Yet she stuck with dance and stuck with this strict diet and by her fourth year she had lost 17 pounds, to weigh a 'perfect' 100.

And perfection was all she really wanted.

.

As it was, Lorcan wasn't the only observant one. Rose Weasley was also watching her older cousin with worried eyes. She would sit with the Gryffindors and peer across the Great Hall to see food being pushed at but not eaten. And it made her want to scream.

"Luce," she approached her cousin one day, late in December as they were heading opposite ways, her to Potions and Lucy to Transfiguration.

"Yes, Rose?" Rose frowned and pulled her aside, gripping her arm lightly, terrified it would snap if she held on any tighter.

"Nothing, I just wanted to chat. Cousin to cousin."

"Right," Lucy looked down the corridor, not wishing to have the conversation she could feel coming.

"How's dancing coming?" Rose asked her innocently.

"Well enough, I really have to go.."

"You know, a little more meat on those bones and it'd be so beneficial to the harder moves."

"I really have to go," Lucy said pulling away but finding Rose's grip too strong.

"Look at you," Rose hissed, her temper rising at her cousin's lack of realization, "You can't even pull away. Starving yourself is making things worse, Luce."

"I'd love it if you left me alone Rose. Goodbye," Lucy said, having taken out her wand and releasing herself with a small stinging hex on the younger girl's arm.

Rose stared at the tiny girl floating down the corridor. Something had to be done.

.

Lorcan was not thrilled by Rose's idea. But she had made a valid point. Only someone outside of the family could make her (stupid) plan possibly work.

So on New Year's Eve he found himself standing in the doorway of the small back room to the Burrow, watching the young girl before him dance.

She was brilliant really, floating through the air. But there was something missing, something that he (hardly an expert) could tell. She had the grace and delicacy (plenty of it) but she had no power.It dissipated before the turn or jump or fancy french sounding piece of footwork was completed.

Lorcan took a deep breath, looking at the term Rose had scrawled on his hand before stepping fully into the room. He clapped steadily, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

"Luce, that's bloody brilliant!" he said, a smile plastered to his face (but inside his face was fall-fall-falling).

"Thank you," she responded demurely, pausing a moment before preforming a little curtsy.

"I was wondering," he said stepping closer and leaning against the pale yellow wall "if you could do a tour en l'air? Since you are so good,"

Lucy looked down at her pink clad feet, aching from hours of pointe work. "That's usually a boy's move..."

"Usually, but I'm sure you could do it!" He reached out, placing his hands on her tiny shoulders. She flinched.

"No, I don't think I can," she said, desperately trying to avoid conversation. She went to pull away but Lorcan's grip was too strong.

"Are you too small to do it?" he asked, feeling as though the words on his palm were burning a hole through his hand. How had he gotten stuck doing this?

Lucy looked up at him, with blazing eyes and all the /intensity/ that was missing from her dance. "Rose put you up to this, didn't she? Well go and tell her to bugger off, so what if I can't do that move? At least I'm small enough to be graceful."

Rose had mentioned that this might happen; she told Lorcan that he could just admit it and walk away and oh well they tried didn't they?

But Lorcan hadn't figured in his reaction. He had left out an important part of the equation.

(wasn't he supposed to be a Ravenclaw?)

He just couldn't understand why this beautiful/smart/talented girl would do this. Why would she ignore people who only wanted to help?

All he ever wanted to do was help people.

His hands tightened on her shoulders, and he took a step closer, forcing her to look straight up to see his face. "Small enough to be graceful? Is that all that matters to you? To weigh less than nothing? To make yourself- no, to make others miserable? Because they care about you!" Lorcan could never muster venom in his voice, he just didn't do that, but the anger still palatable, flat and simmering.

"I-"

"You what? Look at yourself, honestly Luce. You're barely strong enough to lift yourself. Look at us right now, tell me if you could begin to pull away? I could do whatever the hell I wanted and you would be helpless. Is that what you want Lucy? Is that what you want? For fuck's sake."

Lorcan released her quickly, shaking his head and slamming the wooden door behind him. Lucy stood frozen in the middle of the room, shocked.

Then she slunk slowly to the ground, her little skirt flaring out around her. She buried her face in her hands, tears streaming down her face.

Maybe perfection wasn't what she wanted.