Hugo is damn proud to be a Weasley, and that's his biggest fault.

Hugo, as one of the youngest four of the Weasley/Potter conglomeration (yeah, he is capable of reading, piss off, James!) saw a whole lot growing up. He saw Dominique go from a painfully geeky preteen to a perpetually angry girl who hated the whole world (but mainly her family). He knew, without really having much proof, that Louis hated being just another Weasley and was thrilled when George "accidentally" dyed his hair blond. He knew that Molly had chosen to go for the Harpies instead of going into Healing not because she really only wanted to play Quidditch, but because she needed to feel separated from her family. She needed to make a name for herself.

Hugo knew Lucy was one of his only cousins who didn't really care one way or another, but she was hardly even a Weasley; she chose her books over her family and even when Hugo finally understood why, it still infuriated him to the point where the filter between his mouth and mind shut down and everything spilled out.

"Why don't you come outside with us?" Roxanne asked Lucy, her scarf halfway wrapped around her neck and her gloves in hand. "We're gonna have a snowball fight."

Lucy, sprawled across one of Grandma's recliners, with a book on her lap, didn't even look up to acknowledge her cousin. "I'm busy."

Hugo heard the short exchange as he trotted down the stairs from Dad's old room, where he and Al were staying over break. He stopped at the bottom and stared incredulously at her. "Are you serious?" he asked, his eyebrows rising of their own free will. "You're too busy reading a book to hang out with us?"

Lucy did look up at that, and she cocked her head. "Some of us have higher aspirations, and that means hard work, Hugo. Please don't bother me." She dropped her eyes back to her book, and Hugo's mind briefly tossed the thought around that he should leave before he did something stupid.

He'd never really listened to that voice, and at twelve, wasn't about to start. "Higher aspirations are more important than family, then?" he demanded. Above him, a door slammed, and he abruptly lowered his voice. "Why do you even both coming here?"

Lucy stared at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, but Hugo continued on before she could form a coherent retort. "You're barely even a Weasley, you know that? The only thing you've got in common with any of us is your last name and you don't even deserve that."

Lucy was somewhat avenged by Harry coming down the stairs behind him and walloping him something good on the back of his head, but that didn't stop her from bolting past the both of them up the stairs, her book forgotten and her sobs echoing throughout the house.

Harry grabbed Hugo by the collar and dragged him outside, where he found Mum and told her word-for- word what had come out of Hugo's mouth.

He soon found himself grounded from all family Quidditch games, Hogsmeade weekends, trips to Diagon Alley, and essentially anything that would let him out of his room or the kitchen for meals.

The absolute worst part was when Grandma caught wind of it and guilt-tripped him to within an inch of crying for what he said.

He escaped upstairs as soon as he could from the angry adults filling the house, and the disappointed look Audrey was giving him. As he was passing the door to the room Lucy's crying was emanating from, he knocked stiffly on the door.

Lucy pulled it open and dashed angrily at her tears. She glared up at him, and the hand not holding the door open fisted at her side. "What do you want?" she asked, voice wavering as a new flood of tears began to build up.

Hugo looked away, uncomfortable and still furious, and mumbled, "I apologize for my behavior."

Lucy stared at him, eyes narrowed. She shook her head, and clenched her jaw. "Piss off, you asshole," she said, before slamming the door in his face.

From then on, Hugo refused point-blank to talk to her. It was her fault, he knew it! She was the one refusing to be a part of the family.

As he sulked in the attic, tucked up under the eaves behind a stack of old trunks, he internally ranted about how unfair it all was. Dominique was allowed to rant ad nauseum about how much it sucked to be categorized by who her family was, and all the punishment she got for hating on them all was hugs and "you'll grow out of it, sweety" and other crap like that.

Louis hadn't been any better, with his stupid charms (he thought it was some sort of huge secret but all of them knew) and it just pissed Hugo off to no end how all of them were completely rejecting being a Weasley out of hand. They all raged against it, and Hugo was the only one who ever got in trouble for voicing his opinions about it.

Man, he hated his family sometimes. There was so much to being a Weasley and the only thing any of them ever thought about was going against values and ideals.

Like Al! Him and his stupid best friend- like Malfoys even were capable of being friends with anybody who wasn't a pureblood. He hated Scorpius Malfoy and his entire family possibly as much as his dad did, but Al couldn't—wouldn't— understand why it was a bad thing to associate with them.

"Al, don't you know what he did to our parents?" Hugo asked, after witnessing the boys laughing together during the Welcoming feast. "They're a bad bunch! Look at his dad!"

Al rolled his eyes and sighed. "Look, Hugo, am I my dad?"

"No-"

"And does being in Slytherin make me evil?"

"Of course it doesn't-"

"Scor isn't his dad, just like I'm not mine. You'd do well to be less like yours, though, you're being a right prat." Al shook his head at Hugo's spluttering and left him in the middle of the Entrance Hall. He pushed through the door leading down to the dungeons, and Hugo stared after him, stunned.

That had been the first time he'd seen, with his own two, Weasley-blue eyes, why family was so important. Without it, they'd do stupid things like make friends with the enemy.

Somehow, deep in his soul, he knew it was up to him to find a way to drag everybody back.

Just as long as Mum and Dad didn't find out, because he would probably he grounded until he was dead for even thinking of bringing up the subject.

If only he actually knew where to begin.

A/N: This is the last one, for sure. I wrote this before I shipped out and only found it today, which is why I'm putting it up.