Okay, Chapter 2 is up! Enjoy!

The morning of September first, she, her father, and Molly used the Floo Network to get to Kings' Cross so she didn't get the chance to go outside for any final goodbyes.

Once at the station, she hugged her father goodbye and boarded the train with Molly. "Do you want me to stay with you?" Molly asked, but she was looking off wistfully towards a group of fourth year girls.

Lucy had no doubt that her sister would stay with her if she asked. But she didn't want to keep Molly from her friends, so she said, "No, I'll be fine."

Molly smiled and went over to join her friends. Lucy made her way down the train. They had gotten there fairly early, so she had no trouble finding an empty compartment. She stowed her things and sat down, looking out the window at the people on the surrounding platform. There were teary farewells and laughing reunions. Everyone had someone else with them, someone they loved. Lucy seemed to be the only one alone.

Some other students joined her compartment, a group of girls. They looked like second or third years, but Lucy could never tell ages. The girls giggled and gossiped. Lucy stared out the window silently for the entirety of the train ride, watching the passing land and categorizing the trees she saw.

Not soon enough, they had reached Hogsmeade. She exited the train alone and made her way towards the calls of "Firs' Years" coming from a hulking figure that could only be Hagrid. There were several other first years surrounding him Lucy tried to work up the nerve to introduce herself, remembering how the daffodils had encouraged her to make friends with other people. Just as she was about to say hello to a friendly-looking blond boy next to her, Hagrid began leading the first years to the lake. She sighed. He probably wouldn't be interested in talking to her, anyway. No one was. At least, no humans were.

She would have to do better. When she got back home, she wanted to be able to tell the daffodils all about her new—human—friends. She wanted her flowers to be proud of her.

She was silent in the middle of the other first years' incessant chattering. They reminded her of her daisies. She was about to try talking again when they reached the school and were in front of the Great Hall. Lucy barely had time to begin her anxiety over Sortings when the doors to the Great Hall swung open and the first years proceeded forward.

The Sortings began, Professor Longbottom calling out names alphabetically. All too soon, there were only three first years left and Lucy heard, "Weasley, Lucy." She stepped up to the front, sat on the stool, and had the Sorting Hat placed on her head. It slipped down past her ears, covering most of her face. She heard giggles from the students and blushed. She had always been very small. Luckily, the Hat was hardly on at all before it called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

She removed the Sorting Hat, still blushing, and made her way to the Hufflepuff table. Molly was in Hufflepuff, too, so Lucy took solace in that, glad that she wouldn't be completely alone.

She pretended she was in her garden, talking to her daisies, and she made a stab at conversation with the girl—another first year—sitting next to her. She learned that the girl's name was Miranda Grove and that was about all. They spoke meaninglessly over the Sorting Ceremony and worries for Hogwarts. Lucy tried to emulate the conversations she had heard from the older girls who had been in her train compartment, even throwing in a girlish giggle every now and then.

"I'm so nervous about Transfiguration, though," Miranda said. "Everyone says it's the hardest class."

Lucy agreed outwardly while sighing internally. If Miranda already knew Transfiguration was hard, why did she blather on about her worries rather than asking for help from an older student? Was this what all relationships with people were like? Meaningless surface chatter? But… she would keep on doing it, Lucy decided. Even if it wasn't her favorite thing to do, she wouldn't be completely alone like she had been before. She would at least have civil, friendly relationships with her housemates, even if they weren't the best of friends.

So she did. Lucy became sort-of friends with each of her housemates, and even some of the other students in school. She observed the others and acted as she thought they would, talking, giggling, gossiping.

Lucy was accepted. Her relationships with the other first years were normal. They probably thought she was just like one of them. She had dedicated the whole of her first year to gain that reputation. Normal.

But normal people weren't supposed to feel lonely when they had friends, right? Lucy had only ever wanted friends, to escape the loneliness that had plagued her since her mother's death. So how come, now that she was accepted into the normal, average society of first years, she still felt lonely and unfulfilled.

She snuck off to the greenhouses every so often and, with the plants, she felt more at ease than she ever did with her friends. But she wouldn't talk to the flowers. What if someone happened to come in and see her? They would think she was crazy. That wouldn't have been normal at all. And if Lucy wasn't normal, then what was to stop her friends from leaving her? Absolutely nothing.

So, when, the summer after first year, Lucy went home to her garden, she told her daffodils all about her new friends.

But, oh, she could never fool them. The marigolds and lilies might congratulate her on success and the tulips might ask if she had met any nice boys yet but the daffodils knew. She didn't know how, but they saw her loneliness and refused to let her cover it up with lies and artificial niceties about her friends. Even dormant they were strong enough to tell her that she wasn't happy, that she had to be herself if she ever wanted to make any real friends.

At first Lucy denied all their claims, but eventually they got to her. She realized that here, at home, talking to her flowers (who weren't even human, or sentient, for crying out loud) she felt less lonely than she did when she was pretending with her friends.

She wouldn't pretend anymore.

P.S: If you like this, be sure to go check out The Bookworm. It's Victoire's fic. Eventually I'll get around to doing one for each Next Gen character, but these are the only two up. For now.