Chapter Two: First Date

A/N: *Sniff*. OK, I'm used to not getting many reviews by now… But I like this story! WAH! Oh well, I think I'm being selfish and pitiful. Anyway, I really DO like reviews (those of you who are authors know what it's like so don't be lazy. I never am!) I'll answer any questions you've got and even check out some of your stuff. This is not that interesting a chapter… Lucy drones on about her past. But please, keep with it, it gets better!

Oh, and Nicolas, I meant a SEQUEL! This thing is supposed to be a trilogy, but I'm not writing the second part if people don't want me to.

"You were a prodigy, weren't you?" The victim shook his head sadly at his hunter.

"I didn't know you were capable of complimenting me, Potter." The hunter chortled slightly.

"I'm not," the boy replied. "Child prodigies go insane after a few years. Many commit suicide. But you became a sadist. It's sad, really."

"I never thought you would take pity on me."

"Neither did I ever think of you as pitiful." There was a brief period of silence before the boy spoke again. "But there was one thing you hadn't counted on happening, wasn't there?"

"Yes," the hunter murmured, sadly. "She fell in love."

"Geoffrey Dumbledore," the girl reported. "His nephew."

"Good work, Lucy!" Tom smiled. "And what do you plan to do?"

"What do you want me to do?" she said, seductively. Tom gave her a twisted smile.

"About him, my love."

"What do you want me to do with him?" Tom leaned back in his chair and relaxed.

"You show dedication to following orders. However, I trust you, Lucy. What are you going to do with him?" Lucy straightened up, professionally.

"I am going to make him fall in love with me. I am going to make it so he can't resist me."

"A love potion?" Tom raised an eyebrow, but Lucy shook her head with a sly grin.

"No, master. Just good old fashioned little boy hormones. That way, there's no chance of it wearing off."

"Perfect."

"Stupid piece of shit!" A failure of an inventor kicked a mirror and it fell to pieces. He was tall and scrawny, with glasses framing his light blue eyes and brown hair all over the place.

"Having trouble?" The young man turned to see a girl there, only a few years younger than him, and recognized her as a student at the school.

"Yes. I'm trying to invent something, but it never works."

"What are you trying to invent?" The girl was a petite redhead with eyes as green as emeralds. She seemed so curious and innocent, with her head tilted to one side, examining the shattered looking glass. "That's seven years bad luck, you know." The man sighed.

"I know. But not for this piece of crap! It's only worth two years, at the most! I'm Geoffrey, by the way."

"Lucy. I've seen you around." The girl held out her hand in greeting and Geoffrey shook it. "You're Dumbledore's nephew, aren't you?" He looked surprised.

"Who told you that?"

"So it's true?"

"Yes, I mean, no…"

"Yes."

"Yes…" Geoffrey finally sighed. "But not many people are supposed to know I'm his nephew. My uncle doesn't want people expecting too much out of me just because I'm related to him, or something like that. He wants me to make a name for myself. He's practically the only one who believes in me, or acts like it anyway. So don't tell anyone."

"I'll just dispel the rumors then," Lucy agreed with a sweet smile. She has a nice smile, Geoffrey thought. "So tell me more about this thing you're inventing."

"Well," said Geoffrey, looking back at the broken mirror. "In theory, it should be pretty useful to aurors of the future. I call it the Foe Glass. It tells you when your enemies are close and how close they are by depicting them in this mirror. But I've tried everything to make it work and it won't!" Lucy frowned and rolled up the sleeves of her robes and pointed at the mirror.

"Reparo!" she cried and the shards that were scattered on the floor fit back together again in the frame like a jigsaw puzzle. She then turned to Geoffrey. "Did you try casting the Eagle Eye Charm?"

"Eagle eye… Yes, that would make its vision clearer, wouldn't it?"

"And what about a truth spell."

"Yes! That way it could see through any disguise, including a polyjuice potion! You're a brilliant lass!" Geoffrey cried as he cast the spells on a mirror.

"I have great teachers," Lucy murmured. Geoffrey was ecstatic. He frowned, however, when he detected another malfunction.

"Stupid thing still isn't working!" he screamed, frustrated. "See that shape in the mirror? It says there's a foe nearby! I can't make it out though. UGH! THE ANNOYING LITTLE—"

"You need a break," Lucy observed. "Come on, I'll treat you to a butterbeer down at the three broomsticks. You coming?" Geoffrey nodded.

"Yes, actually, that sounds great," he smiled, grateful for the distraction.

"And then I told them, 'Do you know who you're messing with, mate? I am the nephew of Albus Dumbledore!'" Lucy laughed on cue.

"And where they scared?" The young man sputtered with laughter.

"Nah! They shoved me in the rubbish bin anyway! I don't even think they knew who Albus Dumbledore was!"

"Ah, primary school horror stories!" Lucy laughed. "I have a few of those myself. My first foster mother was a muggle and just insisted I attend school! It was dreadful! On the first day alone, someone insulted my hair color! Don't worry, they went to a hospital with a concussion. But I was the one who got in trouble for it! I had to write these phrases on the blackboard! It was so degrading! You know, muggles these days insist women will never amount to anything."

"It's the time, it'll change," said Geoffrey. "Muggles are always changing their minds, very indecisive."

"Why did your uncle make you go to primary school?" Lucy asked, exaggerating her interest.

"He didn't want me around wizards until I was ten years old. He told my teachers I was moving to Guam."

"Guam?"

"Yes. You know, it's that island off of… somewhere... So, tell me," said Geoffrey, taking another swig of his alcoholic beverage and changing the subject. "About your foster parents. How many have you had?"

"Oh, it's me and Tom both really…" Lucy stopped and nearly kicked herself for letting her master's name slip.

"Tom? Tom who?" Geoffrey asked in innocent curiosity.

"No one you know, really," Lucy improvised. "We met in a muggle orphanage unaware that we were both magical. Well, I think Tom might have had an idea, but… He was always so smart, Tom was. He always knew exactly what he was doing. Did I tell you he's known how to play the piano like Mozart since he was six years old?"

"How did he learn that in an orphanage?" Geoffrey thought aloud.

"He didn't. One of his almost-foster parents had a piano. He's self-taught, you know. He loves music, Tom does. Especially classical. He's a lot like Mozart actually. They're both child prodigies."

"You really like him, don't you?" Geoffrey half accused, half mocked the young lady. She threw back her head of crimson hair in a loud laugh.

"Yes, I do, I really do. He's my best friend."

"You've told me about Tom," Geoffrey said. "Now tell me about you."

"Well," Lucy began. "As I said, I grew up in a muggle orphanage. My parents died when I was three and I was adopted again, not legally yet though, when I was six by a muggle, as I said. But I was a troublemaker from the start and tore up her house like a tornado. She hated me.

"So, I was back at the orphanage a year later where I met Tom again. He was still there. He was always there. I had met him when I'd first come to the orphanage. Back then, it had seemed no one wanted a mute."

"He's mute?"

"Only until he was six, a year before I left for the first time and the year he mastered the piano."

"He didn't say a word until he was six years old?" Lucy nodded.

"But when he did start talking, he sounded like an adult to the small naïve ears of a child. He had leadership skills since birth, that one did. He always seemed older than his age. At seven, he spoke as if he were seventeen. OK, maybe not seventeen, but…"

"I get it," Geoffrey nodded, clumsily.

"Anyway, I met him again when he was eight and I was seven. And by then, he had half of the kids in the orphanage looking at him as if he were a God. He had a way with words, he did, even when he was eight years old. And people didn't like smart kids, you know. No one adopted him. I don't think he ever went to one foster home.

"I became quite attached to him and he seemed to like me. I mean, all of me. He didn't mind that I had a habit of stealing—Did I tell you I like to steal things? Some people think it's an illness, but I think it's a thrill! What are they calling it now?"

"Kleptomania, a recently discovered mental, er, difference…" Geoffrey smiled.

"Anyway, I still have a pearl necklace from my first foster mother. Well, Tom didn't mind. In fact, I think he found it interesting. Oh, I was a terrible child! If someone hit me, I'd hit them right back and then some. I was a criminal! And Tom didn't care. He liked it. He thought it was exciting. So I kind of became his little sidekick. And I still am.

"Well, a year later, when I was eight, I was adopted again by a rich man who needed an heir. His first choice was a boy, not a girl, but he got me because I had recently caused a food fight in the cafeteria and they wanted to get rid of me. Well, to be fair, the rich bastard gave me a chance before he sent me back six months later. He said something like 'Little girls without proper manners will never land a husband! God forbid you have any children!' It was quite funny, really.

"Well, soon after that, actually a month exactly later, I was adopted by a lonely old spinster with a lot of cats. I won't go into detail here, but let's just say after a nasty incident involving the whiskers, paws, and tail of a ginger, a black, and a gray cat put me back in the orphanage again."

"Ugh, sounds gruesome." Geoffrey winced.

"It was," Lucy nodded. "But I was taken in again, this time within a week, by a couple who couldn't bear children. I mean, they couldn't give birth. They kept me for a whole year. Wonderful people, they were, I really wanted a home by now so I tried to impress them and get them to adopt me. They were really great, for muggles, I mean. But one day something horrible happened. The wife, Pamela, was killed in a car accident and her husband was so grief stricken, he shot himself in the back of the head. And again, I was back at the orphanage. It wasn't until later in my life did I realize it was impossible to shoot yourself in the back of the head... But I was so disappointed. They were the only other people in the world who liked me for who I was other than Tom. But when I got back to the orphanage, he wasn't there. Someone said he had gone to boarding school."

"Is that all the adoptions you had?" Geoffrey asked. Lucy shook her head.

"There was this couple that came in one day, two months after my tenth birthday and one month after I had left my home with the wonderful dead parents. But this couple was different. They were a witch and a wizard looking for a child who was not magical. Bleeding twits, if you ask me. Who would want a muggle child? Well, I broke their hearts when I received my letter to Hogwarts and guess where I came home for the holidays? But it wasn't that bad. I found out that Tom was a wizard too. We've always been the best of friends, me and Tom. Oh, I'm sorry, I'm talking too much."

"No, no, I enjoy it," Geoffrey assured her. "I love someone who talks a lot. I enjoy listening."

"That's a rare quality in a man," the girl said with a laugh. "Do you enjoy working for your uncle?" Geoffrey sighed, sorrowfully.

"I love to invent things. They don't always turn out right, but I love to invent things. I'm just one big mistake, really. Everything I touch breaks. I can't fix a thing if my life depended on it and my only invention is a silly thing that only tourists would buy, really. A sneakoscope, it tells if someone untrustworthy is around. It doesn't work half the time, but I succeeded in selling it to some Egyptians. As for working with my uncle, I think the only reason he funds my stupid research and inventing is because I'm family. He acts like he believes in me and that he wants me to make my own name instead of living off his, but I think he doesn't even want to admit he has anything to do with me. He's not that great, really. He did alchemy with Nicholas Flammel, and that dragon's blood thing, and the defeat of that wizard two years ago really made him famous. But he's not that great. He's just a man, like the rest of us. He makes mistakes, he has shames, he has secrets. Not that I know what those secrets are, but I know he has them. Everyone has secrets. Don't you have secrets, Lucy?" Lucy nodded, probably one of the only truths that was not deceitful she would ever let escape her.

"I have lots of secrets, Geoffrey," she said.

"I have secrets too. Uncle Albus keeps up my reputation as best as he can, claiming I'm a great inventor. But if anyone asks him what I've invented, he falters. He will only go so far to help me, you know. Personally, I think him funding my inventing is his way of keeping me out of the way. Not many people even know we're related, despite how distantly.

"What I really need is to get out of here, to find adventure and live my life for what it's worth, if it's worth anything at all."

"And your parents?" Lucy prompted, "What of them?" Geoffrey sighed.

"My mother, Katherine, died giving birth to me. My Uncle says my father ran off. He won't talk much about them. I don't think he likes to remember his sister's dead. I think that's another reason he doesn't like me. Because I killed his precious little sister, his little Kate." Lucy nodded with understanding.

"Tom always blamed his dad for running off and leaving his mother because she was a witch."

"Are you and Tom… dating?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Lucy cried. "Why on earth would any one want to date me?"

"Well," Geoffrey squirmed, "I'd date you. You seem like a very interesting and great girl." Lucy smiled, appreciatively and warmly.

"Thank you, Geoffrey, that's so sweet of you!"

"I mean, I'm not trying to ask you out or anything stupid like that, because I know you're way out of the league of a failure inventor, but I'm just stating that you're a very interesting and lovely wom—"

"Geoffrey?" Lucy said, tentatively with a silly smile.

"Yes, Lucy?" Geoffrey said.

"Would you like to go out with me tonight."

"I'd love to."

"What is this place?" Geoffrey shouted, looking around.

"An exclusive place," Lucy whispered with a mischievous grin. He returned the expression. The club was different and wild, girls dancing seductively on tables, couples swing dancing, men hidden in the shadows in the corner making illegal deals, loud jazz music throughout the place, smells of alcohol and other intoxicating substances hanging in the air.

"You come here a lot?" Geoffrey asked. Lucy gave him a sly smile.

"Occasionally," she muttered, then turned to a bartender. "What's the special tonight, Elton?"

"It's muggle night tonight," he said with a Liverpool accent. "Mudblood Special."

"Mudblood special?" Lucy smiled, weakly. "What's that?"

"Actually, it's a normal muggle drink. They call it a 'Bloody Mary.'"

"I'll take one, Elton, and he'll have…" she turned to Geoffrey, who shrugged. She turned back to Elton.

"Get him a Sparkling Draft of Death."

"Coming right up, Lucy." Geoffrey turned to Lucy and frowned.

"Draft of Death?" he asked. She smiled.

"Don't you go to any bars? Relax, Geoff, it's just a name! It's a great potion, you'll love it."

"Why did we come here?" Geoffrey asked, looking around.

"You wanted adventure," her grin widened. "Do you dance?"

"Pardon?"

"Dance. Is it something you, you know, do?" Geoffrey shook his head with a stupid grin on his face. "I'll teach you then!"

"Mudblood Special and Sparkling Death!" Elton slammed the potions on the table without spilling a drop. Lucy took the red one and took a drink. She licked her lips.

"Hm, not bad. How's yours?" Geoffrey looked at his own drink, which looked like a night sky in liquid form. The thick ebony mixture swirled with sparkles of silver.

"Is this why they call it a Sparkling Draft of Death?" he asked with a small smile. Lucy nodded, vigorously, sipping her drink. Geoffrey shrugged. "What the hell?" and with that, he took a long swig.

Lucy cheered. "Go Geoffrey!" Geoffrey had a satisfied expression on his face.

"It's not half bad!"

"That's the spirit! Come on," Lucy cried, "Let's dance!" She pulled Geoffrey by the arm out on the dance floor.

"How do I do this?"

"I'll show you a simple move. The dip, also used in ballroom. Put your arm around my torso like so…" she placed Geoffrey's arm around her waist. "Hold my right hand with your left hand like this… And then I go down and then you pull me up and swing me out…" Lucy bent backwards, and then had Geoffrey pull her up with his left hand and he spun her out and pulled her back in.

"You're getting the hang of it…" she giggled. "You're a natural."

And indeed he was. After an hour, the boy was spinning and dipping and swinging Lucy all over the place.

"You're better at this than me!" Lucy laughed. Geoffrey blushed slightly.

"Well, I try…" he mumbled. "I'm tired, let's sit down and have a drink."

"I completely agree," said Lucy. They laughed as they sat down at the bar.

"What can I get you two lovebirds?" said Elton the bartender, wiping down the bar. Lucy giggled and Geoffrey saw her cheeks redden.

"Jeckyl's Curse," Lucy ordered.

"Flaming Dragon," Geoffrey grinned as he saw the impressed look on Lucy's face.

"I thought you didn't drink, Geoff," she said in mock accusation.

"Shows how little you know about me, Luce." Lucy stopped laughing abruptly.

"What is it?" Geoffrey asked. The first real wave of déjà vu went over Lucy and she looked at the jazz band, lost in memories. "Lucy, are you OK?"

"Hm?" she said, coming out of her trance. "Oh, yes, I'm fine! It's just… Tom once called me 'Luce.' He doesn't anymore. I've become a possession to him. It's always 'Lucy.' Never 'Luce' anymore. Not since he was twelve."

"I'm sorry…" Geoffrey trailed off. But she turned to him with a smile.

"Don't be," she said sweetly. "You remind me of him." She kept herself from saying, 'The way he used to be…'