Chapter 1 - The Weight of Silence
Snow fell in delicate flakes over Hogwarts, as if the sky itself were gently draping the towering turrets and vast courtyards with a silver mantle, capturing the timid winter sunlight and returning it in soft, enchanting reflections. It was one of those magical weekends, so rare and precious, when students were permitted to leave the castle grounds and head to Hogsmeade, their voices echoing through the crisp air, filled with anticipation and laughter.
James Sirius Potter, with that mischievous glint in his eyes so reminiscent of the grandfather he was named after, tugged Lorcan Scamander's arm with an urgency that was almost comical. He had the impatience of the Potters running through his veins, mixed with the audacity that the Weasleys seemed to pass down from generation to generation.
— Hurry up, Lorc! — James exclaimed, his voice cutting through the air as his quick steps made the snow crunch beneath his shoes. — If we dawdle, Fred will sell all the new stock to the Ravenclaws!
Fred Weasley, now a former Hogwarts student, was often around, helping his parents at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. James knew, with the instinctive certainty that comes from knowing one's family well, that his cousin would not resist the temptation to trade the most curious and coveted items with whoever got there first.
Lorcan chuckled, but his attention was soon drawn to a group of girls descending the stone staircase. Roxanne Weasley was among them, walking with Dominique and Rose. The smile that lit up Roxanne's face made Lorcan's breath hitch for a moment. There was something about that expression, something about the way she carried herself, that always left him speechless.
— What are you staring at? — James nudged him playfully, his grin as mischievous as ever. — Oh, I know…
Lorcan averted his gaze far too quickly, but not quickly enough to hide what had just happened.
— I don't know what you're talking about — he said, trying to act indifferent.
— Yes, you do. You're staring at my cousin… — James laughed, clearly enjoying teasing his friend. — Again.
Lorcan opened his mouth to protest but shut it just as fast. It was pointless. James knew. Everyone knew.
Well, everyone except Roxanne, apparently.
Roxanne could feel Lorcan's gaze before she even needed to confirm it. It was subtle, but she had come to recognise it well. And, if she were honest with herself, she didn't mind. She liked how he always seemed to notice when she entered a room, how his expression softened, his eyes brightening with a particular kind of attention when she was near. But what she didn't like was the fact that he never did anything about it, never took that next step.
— You could at least talk to him, you know? — Dominique remarked, pulling her wool coat closer around her as they walked through the streets of Hogsmeade, her hands tucked into her pockets. The cold was biting, but the warmth of their conversation burned even more intensely.
— Talk about what? — Roxanne frowned.
— About the fact that you two have been dancing around each other for years — Dominique replied with a sly smile, as if she were about to give her friend a push in the right direction.
Rose, ever the pragmatic one, smirked with a touch of irony.
— If neither of you makes a move, someone else will do it for you — she said, almost as a warning, but with the knowing tone of someone who had seen this play out before.
Roxanne rolled her eyes, but inside, her heart beat just a little faster. There was truth in those words, something she could no longer ignore. And yet, she kept walking, the weight of silence between her and Lorcan—who never seemed to make up his mind—hanging over her steps.
At Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the chime of the shop's doorbell announced James and Lorcan's arrival. Fred greeted them with his trademark wide, irreverent grin. A burst of colourful sparks shot up from the counter, forming a fleeting rainbow of light, as he spread his arms to welcome them.
— Finally decided to show up! — he exclaimed, ruffling James's hair in a big-brotherly way and clapping Lorcan on the shoulder as if he had always been part of the family. — If you want Dungbombs, buy them now. The Hufflepuffs have already cleared out half the stock.
— And you want us to clear out the rest, don't you? — James retorted, already pulling a coin from his pocket, his trademark cheeky grin in place.
Lorcan, however, remained quiet. His eyes were fixed on the shop's entrance, where Roxanne had just walked in. The sight of her swept through the room like a gentle breeze, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. She was there. And despite the noise around him, he couldn't take his eyes off her.
Fred, noticing where Lorcan's gaze had drifted, followed his line of sight. His expression shifted ever so slightly—a subtle furrow of his brow, a momentary pause in his smile. But Lorcan caught it, and he knew exactly what it meant. It was the look of an older brother, one who felt the need to protect. And at that moment, the weight of that realisation settled heavily on Lorcan's chest, pressing against his heart.
Because no matter how much he wanted Roxanne, no matter how much his heart begged him to take a risk, Lorcan knew one thing for certain: Fred Weasley wasn't just a friend. He was like a brother. They had grown up together, faced every phase of life side by side, and for Lorcan, that meant one thing—a brother never betrayed another's trust. And deep down, he knew he couldn't do that.
— Rox! — Fred called, opening his arms to his sister, warm and full of enthusiasm. — Here to see your favourite brother?
— My only brother — she replied, her smile lighting up her face in that way only she could.
For a brief moment, Roxanne's gaze met Lorcan's. No words were spoken, as always. What they both knew, what they both felt, remained unspoken. They never said anything, no matter how much their eyes gave them away.
Back at Hogwarts, the Gryffindor common room was quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fireplace, casting a warm, flickering glow. Lorcan sat before the fire, his wand twirling between his fingers in an absent-minded motion, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular, lost in thought. He couldn't understand why, after all this time, he still couldn't tell Roxanne how he felt. Maybe it was fear—fear of losing their friendship, or worse, fear that she didn't feel the same. Fear that, by speaking the truth, he might risk everything and end up alone.
Her voice pulled him back to reality.
— You think too much for someone who should be sleeping — Roxanne said, her voice soft yet direct, coming from somewhere behind him.
Lorcan turned his head and found Roxanne standing there, arms crossed over her chest, her gaze curious and intent. A sudden warmth spread through his face, and an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.
— I couldn't sleep — he managed to say, his voice deeper than he had intended.
She hesitated for a moment, perhaps debating whether to continue the conversation. Then, without another word, she sat beside him. The movement was so natural, as if they had already understood each other without needing to speak.
— Neither could I — she admitted, and they fell into a silence that felt dense, heavy. A silence filled with unspoken things, with feelings left unsaid, like a frozen breeze lingering between them.
Lorcan wanted to speak. He wanted, at last, to tell the truth—to say everything that had been running through his mind. But, as always, Fred's face came to him. That protective look, the confident smile of someone who had always looked after his sister… And, as always, the weight of that unwavering loyalty made him hesitate.
Why couldn't he find the courage to face this? He had been sorted into Gryffindor—he was supposed to be brave. Yet courage seemed to abandon him in the face of this.
He remained silent, eyes fixed on the fire, as if the flames could burn away his doubts and lighten the burden inside him.
The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls of the Gryffindor common room. Roxanne sat beside him, her knees pulled up to her chest, her gaze fixed on the flames. The silence between them was comfortable, yet tense.
— You've been acting strange lately — she said bluntly, wasting no time on pleasantries, her voice carrying the kind of curiosity that made her impossible to ignore.
Lorcan swallowed hard. Of course, she had noticed. Roxanne always noticed everything—always saw what others tried to hide.
— Strange how? — he asked, trying to sound casual, but the concern inside him only grew.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him with the keen eye of someone who knew every little nuance of his behaviour.
— Distracted. Distant. Like you always want to say something but never do — she replied, her honesty making his chest tighten.
If only she knew how much he wanted to speak... But, once again, he swallowed the words.
He looked back at the fire, hoping to mask the turmoil inside him, feigning a calm that didn't exist.
— I think you're imagining things, Rox — he said, his voice striving for nonchalance.
She pursed her lips, clearly unsatisfied with his response. Her gaze was sharp, unwavering—she wasn't fooled.
— Right. If you say so. — Her tone was clear: I don't believe you.
Lorcan's heart pounded. He wanted to be honest. He wanted, finally, to open his heart to her. But the truth felt too heavy to place between them. And yet, he knew that one day, he wouldn't be able to keep hiding it.
— You've been an absolute pain lately, you know that? — James Sirius dropped a chip onto his plate with an exaggerated sigh, crossing his arms and fixing Lorcan with a sharp look that left no room for distraction.
The Great Hall was buzzing with noise—laughter, chatter, the clatter of cutlery against plates—but to Lorcan, it all felt distant. He knew this conversation was inevitable.
— What do you mean? — he asked, trying to focus on his plate, but knowing full well there was no escape.
James rolled his eyes dramatically, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.
— What do I mean? — he repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. — You barely talk to Roxanne. And when you do, you act like you're stepping through a bloody minefield. Honestly, I don't know who's more stubborn—you or her.
Lorcan sighed, running a hand over his face as frustration threatened to boil over. It wasn't that simple. James was right, but the words felt too heavy to say.
— It's not that simple, James — he muttered, the weight of it all pressing down on his shoulders.
James wasn't having any of it. He held Lorcan's gaze firmly, challenging him.
— Of course, it's simple. You like her. She likes you. What's stopping you?
Lorcan bit his lip, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. He didn't want to talk about this. But, in the end, there was no way around it.
— Fred — he said, barely above a whisper, as if the name itself carried too much weight.
James blinked, confused, as if he hadn't heard properly.
— Fred? What about him?
Lorcan met his friend's gaze, serious. He knew James wouldn't understand straight away.
— He's my best mate, James. You lot are like brothers to me. How do you think he's going to react when I tell him I like his sister?
James pulled a face, as if wondering why this was even an issue.
— Mate, you do realise Fred isn't some kind of troll, right? He's not going to hex you for it.
Lorcan sighed again, frustration creeping in.
— I don't know, James. I just... I don't want to ruin things.
James fell silent for a moment. He thought about how he'd feel if one of his friends admitted to liking his little sister, Lily. The thought wasn't exactly pleasant, but it wasn't as if he could control his sister's choices. Then, out of nowhere, he let out a short, ironic laugh.
— I hate being the sensible one here, but if you carry on like this, you'll end up ruining things all on your own. Maybe you need to talk to Fred first.
James made it sound so straightforward, so obvious. But his words made Lorcan pause.
If he couldn't even tell Roxanne how he felt, how was he supposed to talk to Fred?
The weight of that thought hit him hard, leaving him paralysed once more—trapped between what he knew was right and what he was too afraid to do.
That afternoon, Roxanne was in the library with Dominique and Rose, but instead of focusing on the book in front of her, her mind was elsewhere. She turned the pages without actually reading a single word.
— You've read that same page three times — Rose commented, not even looking up from her own book, immediately spotting her friend's distraction.
Dominique, far more amused by the situation, rested her chin on her hands and watched Roxanne with a knowing grin.
— Ten Galleons says she's thinking about Lorcan.
Roxanne snapped her book shut with more force than necessary, irritation bubbling up.
— I am not thinking about Lorcan — she said, trying to sound indifferent. But she knew her friends saw right through her.
Rose and Dominique exchanged a smirk before turning back to her.
— You so are — Dominique insisted, her grin widening. — And I'll bet twenty Galleons he's thinking about you right now.
— Thirty says he's torturing himself over it — Rose added, looking smug.
Roxanne huffed, trying to ignore the growing tension in her chest.
— He's been acting weird, I'll admit. But if he doesn't want to tell me what's going on, I can't force him — she said, trying to sound understanding. But the words came out sharper than she intended.
Dominique raised an eyebrow, her gaze turning sharper, more perceptive.
— Oh, can't you?
— What? — Roxanne asked, confused.
Dominique's smirk turned mischievous.
— Corner him.
Roxanne blinked.
— Sorry?
Dominique shrugged, as if the answer was obvious.
— Some people need a push. And I reckon Roxanne Weasley is very good at pushing.
For a moment, Roxanne said nothing, Dominique's words circling in her mind. Then, slowly, a small smile crept onto her lips—an idea forming.
Maybe Dominique was right. Maybe it was time to force Lorcan to talk.
If he couldn't take the first step, then maybe she would have to.
After all, what was the worst that could happen?