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Chapter 1 : Moony Eyes
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A shadow of a young woman seems to fit in with this backdrop, such an insignificant detail that although she could see most of the city from her perch, the top floor of a major hotel, the city wouldn’t really be able to see her if it tried.
The young woman in question, Lucy Weasley, leaned her head against the frosted window, eyes closed as she help her knees to her chest, soaking in the din of a night in her favorite city. A loud snort from the side drew her focus back into the lavish hotel room, her face suddenly fixed with a glare that would make most people beg her pardon. This recipient however just rolled over onto his back, and let out another loud snore. Lucy wrinkled her nose upon seeing the small strand of drool, thinking back to the handsome, self-confident man who had bought her the first firewhiskey in the hotel bar, and comparing that man with what he was now reduced to.
Lucy returned her concentration to the city laid out in front of her through the frost covered window, as though a gift. She shivered in her thin, silk nightshirt, giving the view one last glance before standing up and closing the shade decisively. Not sparing the man (who was cuddling the sheets) a second look, she began picking up the room, tidying the couch cushions, picking up and folding the man’s clothes and leaving them on the nightstand. All this was done with a practiced feel, as though it had happened many times before. As she came to her stockings and dress, carefully laid out over a chair, she looked at the clock and groaned aloud at the unforgiving neon numbers, reminding her of the curfew she had once again shattered.
Quickly pulling on her stockings, and her dress, Lucy grabbed her purse, slipped on her shoes, and with a small smirk waved goodbye to the still-unconscious man in the hotel’s bed. She nearly ran to the elevators, mentally searching for the nearest pub hooked up to the floo network.
Before the elevator reached the lobby, Lucy spun to face the mirror, staring at the face that she found there. Biting her lip, she examined the hickeys visible on her pale neck. Making a note to give Rose the biggest hug she could muster, she pulled her want out of her purse with a small effort and pointed it at her neck, “Concelio,” she whispered, mindful of the muggle hotel that she was currently in.
Lucy sighed as she took in her disheveled appearance, halfheartedly running her hands through her dark red hair, roughly rubbing away smudged eyeliner and pinching her cheeks to bring some semblance of life into her face. Staring into her own blue eyes, handed down as a mark of the Weasley family, she was hit with a wave of guilt, thinking of her father who was likely sitting in the family room in front of the fire—a spot where he and Lucy had spent many nights, both plagued with insomnia. Lucy cherished those nights, Percy going through some report or other from the Ministry, and she reading some muggle classic, or once she was in her teens doing holiday work for her classes. They would usually leave each other around 4 in the morning, or just wait up. Audrey Weasley would always sigh and shake her head when she saw the matching shadows under the eyes of her husband and daughter before serving up a batch of pancakes, and extra coffee.
Since the incident though, all that changed. Molly would sometimes make an effort, grabbing her lonely father, and her misguided sister, and forcing a family meal full of awkward silences and forced smiles, but other than that Lucy usually forgot to eat, and Percy presumably found out how to cook for one. Lucy may have been named “light” but everyone knew that Audrey was the true light of the family. She brought light into Percy’s world when he was still grieving for everything, and everyone that he lost during the war, and whenever one of her daughter’s was sad she knew how to make them forget about whatever they were upset about in the first place.
But then the light died, and everyone found out that they didn’t know how to get out of their own darkness.
Lost in her own thoughts, Lucy was brought back to reality with a soft chime as the elevator reached its final stop. She straightened her back, arranged her face into “Calm/Collected” and walked through the lobby, drawing more than a few eyes, attracted to the mysterious woman, all dressed up and going who knows where.
Once outside, without the buffer of a frosted window to ease the view of reality, Lucy was overcome with nerves. Leaning against the smooth marble wall outside of the hotel, she fumbled in her bag for a cigarette, pulling one out of the box with her muggle lighter. Her mother had always tried to get her to give up the habit, or at least stick to the wizarding cigarettes that didn’t cause as many health problems, but Lucy started to prefer the dirtiness, and the imperfection of the muggle way. She look a long drag, and let out the smoke in a sigh, the smoke rising in swirls along with the steam of her breath.
Giving up all pretense of control, Lucy sat down on a bench and watched the cars go by. She thought again of her father, how proud he was whenever she came to him with good grades, or a new job, or any new thought really. She didn’t want to know what he would think if he saw her like this. She had partied at Hogwarts, sure, but she’d never been the type to go out every night and get drunk, and high to chase her thoughts away. Even though she was in a way the “rebel child” of her family, in the past it had only been because of how sweet, controlled and calm Molly was, making even little things like playing Quidditch seem like a rebellion. Since the incident happened three months ago, the two sisters had settled into their respective roles to the extreme, with Witch Weekly talking about Molly’s recipes, and how she kept off the baby weight printed next to pictures wizarding paparazzi snapped of Lucy leaving club, after club, all with a different guy helping to hold her up.
Lucy shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out the pictures of her falling out of the clubs swimming around in her mind. She finished her fag, and threw it to the side, reaching for another before reconsidering and sitting up straighter, noticing a figure to her right conspicuously reaching into a large black bag at his side. One of the first things all of the Weasely-Potter kids learned was to spot a paparazzi bloke from a block away.
Lucy suddenly stood up, just as the camera came out and started clicking. She raised an eyebrow cooly, before smirking and wiggling her fingers at him in a mocking wave, giving him one last shot of the “Wayward Weasely” before turning on the spot and disappearing with a loud crack.
Stumbling as she landed, still slightly inebriated, Lucy looked around in confusion. She had clearly intended her loft to be her destination, but instead found herself in a large field, covered with fallen autumn leaves. Disorienting as it was, she was unsurprised to see that she had apparated right into the backyard of her childhood home.
There was the broomshed where she and Lily would sneak in and take Lily’s brothers’ brooms, just to fly around a bit. There was the well, where she always wished her most private wishes. There was the tree that had the perfect branch to sit and read a book in. And there was the house that now held only one of its former occupants. For once, Lucy was glad for the sobering effect of the cold weather as she stumbled over to the back door, tapping a certain combination of stones beside the door with her wand until the door creaked open, letting in the family’s prodigal daughter.
Carefully maneuvering around the house, avoiding all the creaking floorboards, Lucy went to her childhood room long enough to grab a set of sweatpants and an old Hogwarts t-shirt.
Slowly opening the door to the room that had belonged to Percy and Audrey, Lucy felt as though she were no older than five again, waking up her parents on Christmas morning.
She quickly and lightly walked over to where her dad was asleep.
“Daddy?” she said in a whisper, “Daddy its me, Lucy.”
Percy gave a small jump, evidently surprised to find someone standing over him as he slept. “Luce? Whatt’re you doin’ here?” he asked groggily.
Lucy didn’t answer, but instead climbed over him, and crawled into the big bed next to him, as though she really was only five again. “Dad, I miss Mum.” She whispered, starting to cry, and then starting to quietly sob. Percy drew her into his arms, no questions asked, and started rubbing her back softly. There wasn’t anything to say that would ease anyone’s pain, and neither of them were the type to fill silences with unnecessary words.
“Hey. It’ll be okay sometime.” He said eventually, glad to have his youngest daughter in his arms. “I’m here.”
Lucy slowed her crying, holding onto her father’s familiar night shirt, and just letting him comfort her for once, giving up the need to be constantly independent. “Love you dad.” She said quietly, when she felt the tears begin to slow.
“I love you too Luce,” Percy said, tightening his grip around her, “And so does she. We’ll get through this eventually."
Finally feeling herself start to doze off, Lucy noticed the view of the moon out of the nearest window. A view of the moon almost identical to the one she’d seen earlier that night. The moon brought in light and pierced the darkness through frosted glass, always there even if not seen. As she felt her eyes slide down, that moon was the last thing Lucy saw before she fell asleep, watching over the two Weasleys no matter when, no matter where.
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