Lemon Drops

Louis had always had beautiful hair – too beautiful. The colour of liquid gold, it just brushed his collar and swooped across his face in a silken arc.

('Girl hair,' they would tease, 'for the little fag.')

Louis's eyelashes were long, dark and curled naturally, giving his eyes a more feminine edge. Not that they needed them: they were the blue of an unpolluted sea, almost sapphire, with gold flecks around the pupil, like entire galaxies trapped inside.

('Would you stop batting your eyelashes at ze waiter?' muttered their mother, exasperated.)

Moon pallid and slender against the dark wood of the table, his hands tapped out a nervous rhythm, his index finger hitting the table in the beat of his favourite lullaby, the one his mother used to sing. Fidgeting was one of his worst habits.

('It's good that you fidget,' whispered Teddy Lupin into his ear. 'You've always been amazing with your hands.')

Stuttering was another fault of Louis's. When he was nervous, he would trip over his words like he was a kitten climbing a steep staircase, and that, paired with the blush, gave him the overall appearance of a moldy tomato choking.

('Spit it out,' giggled Dominique.)

As well as all of this, Louis had the worst choice in dates. At the start, he felt most comforted with the girls that put him down, because then he knew he was getting what he deserved. Later on in his life, around Fifth year, he realized girls weren't his thing, and dated boys that did the same thing; only this time, they could put him in the hospital with an sharp jab.

('Swallow it,' Nathaniel Travers growled between gasps.)

Coming out to his family had to have been the worst thing he had ever done. Of course, his father, all of the Potters, all of Roxanne's family, Rose, Aunt Hermione and Molly were accepting – but Lucy stormed out in a huff, Hugo and Uncle Ron slowly left the table as if there was a bad smell, and his sisters slapped him, swearing to 'bash the gay' out of him. But the worst by far was his mother's reaction. The look in her eyes, the flames of motherly love dying right before him, the corners of her mouth twisting down into a look of severe disappointment.

('Vous n'êtes pas notre frère," said Victoire calmly.)

After that day, Louis became acidic. He had always been sharp, like a thorn on a rose, but now he was the juice of a lemon, yellow and crisp and repellant. He had subjected himself to being alone forever.

('Louis, I'm fine with your sexuality, but I think you should try to… hide it a bit more, if you ever want your family's love again,' said Fred. 'Maybe you could cut your hair?')

But then he met Blair Finnigan. Blair sat two seats away from him in Charms, and Louis had never really bothered to talk to him, except to ask to borrow quills or to apologize for bashing into him. That was until Louis got a 'T' in his practice NEWT test and went rushing to the only person in that class that didn't despise him for his sexuality. This request led to weekly studying lessons, wherein they did very little studying. Blair, with his wavy brown hair, seaweed eyes and lack of hatred for pretty much anyone, intrigued Louis. In many ways, Blair was like chocolate: warm and sweet and fulfilling and always there for you. However, despite the dawdling, Louis passed his next practice test with an 'A', which was just one grade off of his needed one to become a Hit Wizard.

('I suppose you're happy that we did those "bloody useless" Cheering Charms now, eh?' laughed Blair, the traces of a weak Irish accent lingering on his words.)

So here he was now, blushing and stuttering, his fingers tapping on the table, with Blair Finnigan sitting opposite, an almost smile on his face.

"I just wanted, um, t-to thank you f-for all you've, um, done for me for the Ch-Charms exam, uh, so, yeah," mumbled Louis.

Somehow, Blair's chuckle loosened some of Louis's tension and anxiety. "It was no problem. Actually, it was really fun, and if we hadn't then we'd probably never have met, would we?" he replied, beaming.

It took a lot of convincing, but eventually Louis's lips curled into a smile as a reply. Before Louis could get onto the small talk, Blair launched himself forward and snagged the lemon slice from the top of Louis's drink.

"Hey!" Louis teased.

Giggling, Blair began to eat the lemon without even pulling a face. "Mm, I love lemons."

Now Louis was smiling. After all, chocolate was his favourite food.

Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling

A/N: (Vous n'êtes pas notre frère. = You are not my brother.)