UNKNOWN (TO YOU)

the world was in her heart already, like the small spot of decay in a fruit.

(the power and the glory, graham greene)

Five years ago, Ted and Lucy aged 24&20

I'm lost. Not in the metaphoric kind, but completely and utterly lost.

The chalky stripe that's the road curves like a question mark and I stare at my map again. Hopeless. The roads are crammed with noisy cars and people. A cloying scent of jungle swirls in between the excess-fumes. The red dust coats my skin, as I stare at colourful saris and giant elephants. Nobody spares me a glance as I stand there in the middle of the street with my giant backpack, stunned for words by the chaotic splendour. My clothes stick to my skin, wet with perspiration and loneliness.

Flecks of water prick at my cheekbones. Initially it feels like perspiration, but suddenly the sky cracks open. The road-stalls are quickly packed away as I begin to hurry towards shelter. The rain sifts through my clothes swiftly, running down my neck and down my spine. By the time I reach the bridge and huddle underneath it with a bunch of other people, I am drenched.

Heaving for breath, I stare out at the rain, my map still clutched tightly in my hand .

"Need help?"

His voice is soft; a familiar Northern lilt fills my ears. Something about the man's voice makes me look up.

"Lucy Weasley in India? I'm having trouble believing my eyes. Last I saw you, we were in school."

Scorpius Malfoy smirks at me. He's taller than I remember, new glasses with black frames and I remember the stark difference between seventeen and twenty. His eyes are kind. His face is handsome.

The rain stops. People disperse around us. Scorpius is still watching me. He looks like a familiar face and it's enough for me. I hand him my map.

"Believe them. I'm here."

The morning dew has barely left the treetops when there's a knock on my door.

And outside stands Mr Potter. An older version that I remember with crinkled corners in his face and grey stripes running wild in his hair and beard.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Hi there, Lucy."

He fidgets in the door. Stares at his black shoes and scruffy jeans. Mr. Potter never did the business attire well. He never did tenderness and emotions well, either. And here, in the tilt of his jaw, his sideway smile, I can sense the urgency coming closer. He's come here to talk.

"Are you here because of James? Because I'm so sorry about that. I got lost in the heat of the moment. It was stupid."

"I'm not here because of James."

The trepidation skips like lemon drops, my smoothness overcomes my nerves, I smile brightly, my sense flowing outwards. Hands clenched, I nod, step aside to let the right one in.

"Oh. Okay. Come on in."

He smells like peppermint and home. It takes a while for him to take off his shoes, his quietness is unnerving. I stand in the doorway, unsure whether to leave him to it or wait. I bet he's here for Ted, I bet he's here to talk some sense into me and to make me excuse this mess I've made.

"It's good to see you. I wasn't sure if you were avoiding us or not."

Mr. Potter smiles at me, catching my flighty hand in a snap, rooting me. And I can taste the seriousness between my teeth. I feel my body remember how there's a piece of my heart that they still carry with them. It tugs in me as gravity hauls my body sideways. It's blood and earth in my mouth, grounding me.

"Um. Maybe a little bit. Sorry."

Grounding us. He squeezes my hand.

"That's okay."

It comes so easily from him. I keep on getting amazed by his family's ease. I wish the same went for my own, but their expectations, disappointments and shame are brick-walls, caving in on me. I snap for breath as he sits down by the table, his hands flat on the table.

"You need to forgive your mother."

"Oh."

And it's not Ted. It's the bigger story here in this vacant village that once was my home. Oh Mother, dearest. It feels as if he's scratched open the wound in my chest, the bigger one of the two, if I'm honest, because family –

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, just my betraying, oozing eyes and the droplets that keep on slipping off my chin.

"She's a meddler, but she means well. I owe her a lot."

"I just-"

"She's your mother. She'd do anything for you. If you let her."

It takes a while. Resentment and rage are closer to me than acceptance. I feel my head reeling. Mr. Potter's stare is steady. Calm.

I fumble to save the conversation, which is too close and impossibly hurtful. Mr. Potter is watching me, doing that irritating calm smile that makes me sure he's right. I want to ask him if families are always this hard and if the pain I feel is as acute as losing them, because to me it feels as if they were left in the ground years ago.

"Okay."

It's nothing more than that. I'm surprised to feel a wrench in my gut as I say it, because this is nothing new. It's been the status quo for over five years.

I follow him out again. We don't say much as he buttons his jacket and wraps the woolly scarf around his neck. He turns to face me in the doorway.

"What you said before… about James. Is it about the secret?"

I look at him. "Yeah. How did you…"

He blinks slowly. "A father always knows. We're just waiting for him to accept it, too."

I close the door and look at my red and puffy finger. The ring is still stuck there. I try all morning to get it off. Again and again. I use anything I can think of to get it off. Cooking oil, soap, grease. Everything.

And it still won't budge.

I finally end up sitting defeated in my room, crying hysterically.

That's when Scorpius comes home.

I hear him enter my room as I sit with my back turned. He doesn't say anything for a long while, he just stands there. Finally, I can't take the silence anymore and turn to face him.

"Am I a heartless, cold bitch?" I say, gritted teeth and ready for the backlash.

"Sometimes," Scorpius shrugs and sits beside me. "But you have your moments of greatness, I suppose. That's what we all have."

"I was a bitch." I say miserably.

"Yep," Scorpius acknowledges. "But you were also drunk and hurt and Jamie shouldn't have pushed you like he did. He's just –"

Scorpius sighs. "He's hurt that you cut contact like that, and he saw everything, you know? He saw what it did to Ted when you left."

"Was it bad?" I look up at him. I can't imagine it being any worse than how I feel. How there's been a hollow cave inside my chest where it festers and burns whenever I think of anything remotely close to home.

Scorpius nods slowly.

"Why won't anyone tell me how bad it was? I mean, I know he was a freaking playboy-rabbit , but no one wants to tell me how it was. Why isn't he an auror?"

"I'm not the one to tell you that."

"Ted hates me. And James hates me." I look down at my ring finger.

"No he doesn't," Scorpius sighs. "and neither does James. James is just scared. You can be quite scary…"

"And Ted?"

"Teddy is… confused, I think."

"Confused?"

"Yeah. On one hand he's got Pippa, birdy and chipper as she may be, she's stable." Scorpius rolls his eyes. "You know, he knows she needs him and he knows that he can save her. He can feel like a man."

I nod minutely, and Scorpius nudges me gently. "And then on the other hand, he's got you. Who won't let anyone near enough to save her. Who's got him by the balls. He's scared. And it's pretty darn impossible to help someone like that."

Five years ago, Ted and Lucy aged 24&20

"I'm scared." He's quivering against my body. Naked. So am I. I'm getting paint all over him, but I don't care.

I curl my fingers in his hair and he leans against me. His hand slides up under my head and I'm breathing his air.

"We – we can't fail. Don't you see how beautiful it is? The two of us?"

In a stilted, hushed whisper, Ted looks at me.

"What if I mess up? I've never had a family, I've never done this –"

"You've always had a family, and I'm your family now. We're your family now."

Ted lifts his head from my chest. "What does that entail?"

I think about it for a while. "Well, backrubs."

He laughs, "Oh, really?"

"Uhu. A wife needs to have privileges, you know."

Lips form the word, "I know."

"He's scared?"

"That, and I'd suspect that his balls might be hurting a bit too."

I giggle. "I'm not that tough."

"I know you're not, kiddo. But Ted's been in love with you for more than a decade and you left him without telling him how or why. That gotta hurt."

"It hurt me, too." My voice is small.

"I know, princess. I know."

We're silent for some time. I turn to look at him, remembering the situation.

"We've got a problem."

Scorpius looks just as upset as me, and for a second I think he already knows.

"I know, hon, I'm going to miss the summer sales..."

"No, I mean we have a problem."

I hold up my hand. The diamond sparkles in the sunlight. "It's stuck."

"Oh." Scorpius looks perplexed. "Well, bollocks."

Bollocks, indeed.

"Okay, so we've tried cooking oil. And butter.?"

"Yes."

"And soap?"

"Yep."

"And hot water? Sticking it in the freezer?"

"Yup, still got the frostbites to prove it, thank you very much."

"I haven't got any more ideas." Scorpius sinks down on the couch. "We're screwed, flower."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Hey, no hate on me, you're the one who decided to try on the ring."

"Well! It was my ring first."

"Not anymore it's not. Now it's Pippa's ring."

"This is karma." I bury my head in my arms. "This is bad, bad, bad, bad karma for me trying to bang a married man."

"Technically, he's not married yet –"

"It doesn't matter," I moan. "The universe is out to get me."

"This," I motion to the ring on my now very, very red finger. "Is the universe's way of saying fuck you Lucy Weasley, you're a drunk whore who's had her chance. The universe is totally hating on me because I wore this fugly skirt…"

"That's an awful long sentence you've got going there, love… "

I need new friends.

"Gloves? Gloves?"

I stare at Scorpius, as he waves a pair of hot pink gloves in front of my face.

"Seriously. That's your great master plan?"

"It's all I have. Tell them it's the newest trend from London." He shrugs. "These northerners are gullible enough to believe anything we say."

"I feel ridiculous," I shake my head.

"You look fab, doll. Let's go."

Ted and Lucy 24 & 20 years old.

"I've got you something."

He's bubbling light and the smell of chewing gum all in one. He's jumping from one foot to the other, hiding his hands behind his back. The excitement sends a thrill through me and I'm laughing already.

"What is it? Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

"Patience, little one," Ted's eyes are wide with happiness, his uninhibited grin blinding me. My stomach curls pleasantly, warmed by the glint in his eyes.

He thrusts the box into my hands, barely keeping silent as I open it.

The cat is fuzzy and orange. It hisses at me as I open the box, but curls itself wantingly around Ted's legs, mewing gently.

"A cat?"

"Isn't he adorable?" Ted cuddles the furball lovingly. "This is Mr. Gobbles."

"Don't you think we've got enough responsibility coming up?"

"I thought he could keep the two of you company."

I sigh. "He's your responsibility."

"Gladly."

The walk back to my parents' house feels long. Somehow, I feel like a bad movie moving backwards, hauled towards the end. When Ted invited me to the welcome dinner for Pippa's parents, I could feel the disaster coming as I agreed that yes, of course, I'll come. So will Scorpius.

Mom has offered to hold the party, and I can feel the dread clogging my throat as we arrive through the garden. It's full of people and bright technicoloured lights and banners. Ted says my name quietly, as if he's been expecting me all along as he kisses my cheek. Pippa smacks her lips loudly as she kisses both cheeks, pulling me to her newly arrived parents.

"Mum, Dad. This is Lucille, Ted's ex-wife."

It takes me aback, to hear her say it. She's been in complete denial as to our history until now. Mr and Mrs Montjoy are irritatingly beautiful and cordial as they shake my hand.

My mother is tight-lipped. "That can hardly qualify as a marriage."

"Well, you and Dad made damn sure it hardly qualified." I snap.

"We did?" My mother looks enraged. "Excuse me, but did we tell you to run off to Scotland and marry? We certainly did not!"

"We would have gotten married either way."

"No, we would have spoken some sense into you."

"Well, you made sure it didn't last anyways, didn't you?"

"Oh, you made sure of that all by yourself."

"Oh, so disowning me was not part of your master plan, then?

"Masterplan? Who has a masterplan?"

"Everyone has a masterplan, Mum!"

It's quiet in the garden, now. I can still hear my words echoing through the trees. I lost control. Caught like a leaf in a current of unstoppable air, I couldn't stop

"Let's take a seat," Mum says brightly.

"Yes, let's," Vic nods dryly.

We all take a seat around the table, and I watch as Ted pulls out the chair for Pippa, feeling my insanity tither with jealousy. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. I didn't think it was possible to hate someone as much as I do now. She's taken everything.

They are right across from us. My nails dig into the chair as they pitter-patter and laugh.

My bags are already packed. I'm not sure this is worth it. Maybe escaping will be the best opt-out.

Pippa catches my eye and smiles thinly, looking down at my gloved hands. "Nice gloves, can I see?"

And everything stops.

"Uh. No."

"Lucy, don't be rude, show her the gloves." My mother tuts.

"No."

"Lucy Weasley! I taught you better than that. Take those gloves off!"

It's gone silent again. Even Vic's boys have quietened. Ted raises an eyebrow at me, looking amused. I have to take them off. There's not way out.

"Okay."

And just like that, like a (more or less) bright lightening from the sky, Vic's youngest barfs all over the dinner table.

It skits across the table and ends up spraying down Mrs Montjoy's front. Her scream begins slowly as she stands up, shrieking.

"No!" My mother and Pippa scream at the same time.

And Lucas just keeps on barfing and spewing food in every direction.

Ted finds me outside by the tree. "Now that went well."

I look up at him. "Never a Weasley dinner without some chaos and vomit."

He steps closer, silent.

"Lucy, show me your hands."

Sinking, I show him my gloved hands. He rolls his eyes.

"Take of the gloves, Lucy."

"I don't want to."

"Lucy."

It's enough. There's that low timber to his voice, the sternness I've never been able to escape. Slowly, I peel off the gloves. The ring is shining angrily on my red finger. I raise my hand.

"It's stuck," I sob.

Ted stares at it for a moment before bursting out laughing.

"It's not funny-"

"Oh, but it is – it so is."

"I'm a terrible best man."

"You are," He nods, guffawing.

"I'm so sorry, Ted." I look down. "You can cut off my finger if you want to. I deserve it."

"Have you tried soap?"

"Have I tried -? Yes, I've bleeming tried everything! Do you think I enjoy this?" I seethe.

"But I bet you haven't tried Ted's special blend of fix-all?"

He takes me down to his house, leading me inside his living room. It's quite plain and I sit on the counter and stare at his back as he rummages through the kitchen drawers. A pair of working jeans are lying on the floor in the corner and four empty bottles of beer are on the counter. The walls are bare. You wouldn't know it was his place if it weren't for the smell and my old hand-knitted blanket, which is lying in his couch. And our weathered wedding-photo, which is standing on the mantelpiece with bent corners and watermarks.

After another set of failed greasing, he finally admits defeat as well.

"See?" I say. "See?"

I am never going to have my finger back.

Ted holds up his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. Just sit still for a moment, yeah? There's one last thing I'd like to try."

I sit still for a moment, staring at a picture of the two of us. We look happy. Even with my makeshift veil and his clip on tie. I think that must have been the answer all along.

Suddenly my finger's engulfed by a hot, wet heat.

"God-"A moan escapes me involuntarily and I look down. Ted's wrapped his mouth around my finger. It's all I can do and stare, watching him with an open mouth, as he slowly moves his mouth back down my ring finger. With it, comes the ring. All heat seems to have gone between my thighs.

"Ted –"

"There," he smiles, popping the ring from his mouth. "It's off."

"Thanks." I try to push away the urge to jump him right this instance. Silence settles and before I allow the pestering thoughts to overtake my mind, I turn to him.

"I'm taking you for a ride in my baby."

Ted smiles.

Ted and Lucy 24 & 20 years old.

"A broomstick?" I laugh. "You do know that he won't be able to even hold his own head for a long while, right?"

"Him? Who says it's a boy?" Ted grabs me around my stomach, grinning goofily.

He falls to his knees and presses his nose against me. Exhales.

"You just stay right in there, growing until you're ready. Mommy and I can't wait to meet you."

My back aches. My shoes don't fit anymore. I listen to the sounds of the city, of a life remaining in motion around me as it comes to a still-stop here inside the apartment.

It must be the destination that counts. I repeat that to myself on the tough days. On the days when I miss my mother, miss Grimsby or miss myself.

But then one rainy October day, it knocks on my door. My mother's small and fragile, holding a teddy bear.

I push open the door. Wide open.

I drive towards the sunset. Somehow, I already know where I want to take him, with the bank slowly fading in the afternoon sun. Ted is silent beside me, his feet resting against the dashboard as he hums a slow tune. I can feel him staring at me, but I keep my eyes locked on the road, feeling heat blossoming all over.

Mr. Gobbles is snoring from the backseat and I watch Ted as he reaches back and strokes him. His movements are still very familiar. I have the faintest feeling of dread. This is dangerous. It makes me forget.

"Here we are."

I park right by the edge of the cliff. It's the perfect view over the river where the sun sets low on the horizon. The sky is arsenic. We're silent for some time, our fear clutched tightly to our chests and buried well within our hearts.

"We were happy, weren't we?" Ted's mouth twist. "I mean, we had it good, right?"

"Ted…"

"Hey, cut a guy some slack. I need to know this for my next wedding."

The words hit me like a pile of bricks.

"Yes." I force the words out. "We were… happy. At least… I was happy."

The thing is, that there is no me without him. Loving Ted is like existing, which explains why the first nine years of my life are nothing more than someone else's moving picture show.

Ted nods slowly. "So was I."

"What did I do wrong?" he asks quietly and my throat feels heavy and tight.

"Don't-" My voice is surprisingly sharp, husked. "I don't want to talk about the past, Ted. It hurts too much."

"No, Luce."

I freeze, my eyes wide, belying any guise of indifference. It's that same shade to his voice again. Defiant and stubborn, my name stained with soft emotion I never thought to catalogue and label.

"No?"

"No. I want to know why I can't get you out of my head, Lucy Weasley."