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Chapter 1 : A mind all logic is like a knife all blade. It makes the hand bleed that uses it.
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So this is a companion/sequel peice to my other stories "Here we go again" which is about Dominique and Lysander during their school days, "blown away" about James and Regan, and occurs alongside the events of my story "Lily Potter gets a life".
Lucy is a recurring character in all of these, Since lots of reviewers (and myself) really loved her character I thought she deserved her own story.
You don't need to have read the other stories to understand and (hopefully!) enjoy this though!
Oh! and the quote which is the chapter title is by Tagore and not me! Enjoy!
“You need to sort out what you plan to do with your life!”” Percy Weasley looked sternly at his youngest daughter, “it’s been over a year since you graduated and you still don’t have a job!”
Lucy Weasley sighed and once again pointed out that she had a job, and a very good one at that.
Her father looked pained, “Working in a joke shop is not a job!”
Lucy chuckled, “Should someone let Freddy and Uncle George know that?”
Percy sighed again as he surveyed his daughter. His eldest, Molly, had been no trouble at all, rather like himself, she had sailed through school full of ambition and was already deputy head of the research unit of St Mungo’s as well as acting as a consultant for the health department at the ministry.
Lucy however, was a challenge. She had inherited her father’s rigid adherence to logic and the Weasley brown eyes but not much else. She was, to say the least, a handful. Ruthlessly blunt, she combined the pranking skills of her cousins with a disarmingly sensible disposition punctured with flashes of keen insight she never bothered to hide for the sake of politeness.
“Besides,” she continued, “I don’t actually work in the shop, I work in product development, and since I have no intention of working for a salary alone Freddy agreed I get fifty percent commission on all my new products plus royalties for their trademark. I make more money than Molly does and I like what I’m doing!”
She also, her father noted bitterly, had a tendency to land on her feet even when she ignored his advice.
He sighed, “You could work in the ministry?”
She chuckled, “I could take over the ministry, and I’ll consider it when Aunt Hermione retires, but until then I have no intention of sitting behind a desk if I don’t get any power along with it.”
Percy’s pompous soul couldn’t help but agree with this sentiment, especially when it came form his beloved youngest daughter. Himself and Penelope had only intended on having one child, since as his wife had pointed out, only children were often more articulate and high achieving and therefore more likely to succeed.
However fate had had other ideas, and almost a decade after Molly was born Lucy had surprised everyone. Now she, and her cousin and best friend Louis had finished school and the Weasley’s were officially done with Hogwarts until the next generation started.
Lucy smiled at her father, her keen understanding picking up his feelings before he could express them. She leant down and kissed him on the cheek.
“At least I was Head Girl.”
He brightened at this, which was true at least, both his girls had been. He had had both their badges framed. His chest swelled with pride, none of his siblings could boast that all of their children had been a Head, even if the significance of this honour was lost on some of them…
Lucy smiled to herself knowing her father’s irritation was over. Dom liked to call her manipulative as hell, but personally she thought that knowing how to push peoples buttons, both good and bad, was just good sense. It paid to know what made people tick.
Lucy was still smiling when she apperated to Shell Cottage later that day to see Louis. He had owled her earlier in the morning sounding borderline hysterical as he explained that Dom was going mental with wedding preparations, his mother wouldn’t let him flee and he was about to drown himself in the ocean.
Knowing that Louis, the antithesis of his mother and his dramatic sister Dominique however much he might look like them with his silver hair and blue eyes, took after his father Bill in temperament, stoically calm and unendingly cheerful, for him to be flustered the wedding preparations must be a bloodbath.
She had barely made it in the door when loud voices reached her.
“I’m not taking your fucking surname Scamander and that’s final!” Dom stormed in, as usual managing to be atrociously, angry, aggressive and foul-mouthed and still look blindingly beautiful even though her silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she was wearing a ratty chudley cannons t-shirt.
Lucy sighed, she wasn’t jealous of her cousin exactly. She was sensible enough to know that she was pretty; she couldn’t see the logic behind the common scruple that girls weren’t supposed to admit this about themselves. But she still felt the occasional pang when she saw how devastatingly lovely Dom looked even when she tried her hardest not to be.
“Why not?” Lysander entered the room in her wake looking harassed, which was unusual enough to make Lucy startled since his claim to fame is his perpetual calm, something anyone wanting to marry Dom definitely needed.
“Because it bloody well rhymes!” Dom looked pained, “Lysander Scamander, you’re like a fucking muggle cartoon for Merlin’s sake!”
Lysander looked unimpressed, “What has that got to do with you?”
“I already look like a muggle cartoon character,” she explained, not an entirely inaccurate statement given she is a carbon copy of aunt Fleur in every way except her eyes which are enormous and Weasley brown, appearing black against her starkly pale hair, meaning, now that Lucy thought about it, she really did resemble the heroine of a muggle anime minus the sailor costume and sunny disposition.
“I don’t need a rhyming name as well.”
Lysander looked revolted “your name wouldn’t rhyme you moron, your name isn’t Lysander!”
Dom brightened, “Oh!”
“I hate to interrupt what may possibly be Dom’s blondest moment ever,” said Lucy dryly, “But is Louis around.”
“Of course he is!” Dom jerked her thumb up the stairs, “Heaven forbid you’d come to see me or anyone else in this house, really Lucy, don’t spare politeness on any of us.”
“Don’t worry,” she called with a smirk as she mounted the stairs, “I won’t.”
Hearing her voice Louis stuck his head out the door looking harassed, “Help me,” he hissed, “I think Maman and Dom are having a competition over who can drive me insane the fastest!”
With a look of revulsion he held up a pale blue silk shirt, “Apparently I’m wearing this tomorrow.”
Lucy burst out laughing, “I’m assuming that one was your mother?”
He groaned and nodded, “Where were you this morning? She freaked out because the roses were baby pink instead of blush, and then Dom flipped out because she said she didn’t want any bloody roses because they’re, and I quote ‘fucking insipid’ and then Rose, who was here to help with the table decorations, got shitty and said that rose’s were the flowers of love and if Dom was going to be rude she had a suggestion for where she could stick the flowers.”
Her laughter grew more intense, “I wish I had been here.”
Louis just glared but she knew he wasn’t really offended. They had been best friends since they were children since the age gap between them and the other Weasley cousins was big enough they were usually sidelined from all the games. But more than that, they were a good match, Louis had an impetuous, easy going nature which Lucy needed to pull her out of her own mind sometimes. She knew she had a habit of over intellectualizing things in life that, Louis assured her, shouldn’t be intellectualized.
His kindness also balanced out the coldness of her logic sometimes. He was always encouraging her to stop studying people and just join them.
She giggled as she surveyed him strutting comically about his room for her in his blue silk shirt, and found herself actually looking forward to Dom’s rehearsal dinner that night.
Louis just rolled his eyes when she said this; “I think it’s currently a toss up between which wedding will be more traumatic, Dom and Lysander’s or Rose and Scorpius’s?”
Lucy considered it for a moment, “I would bet on Rose and Scorpius, but I think Aunt Hermione will keep Uncle Ron on a leash so he can’t stand up and object during the ceremony…”
These mental images made Louis give a shout of laughter, “If he doesn’t Malfoy senior might…”
“Plus Dom and Lysander’s wedding has one very important element which ensures it will not run smoothly…”
“It relies on Dom co-operating.”
Louis snorted, “The wedding is fucked already then.”
Alexei Dolohov glared at the Bulgarian as if he were insane, “You want me to do what?” he demanded loudly.
Half of the dingy waterside pub turned at the sound of his voice, but quickly looked away again. At a hulking six foot six with a furious scowl he was not the sort of man people tended to try and mess with, even the criminal sort who frequented this type of bar were wary of him.
“Vil you keep your voice down?” The other man looked agitated, “It is just zis vone little job and zen your debt is paid.”
Dolohov ground his teeth in frustration, cursing his younger self once again. Fresh out of Hogwarts, finding that most of the wizarding world was still unable to forget the connotations of his surname he had gone abroad, back to his grandfathers native Bulgaria, and then onto Russia, until he had gotten caught up in the underground comprised of the types of wizards who made his father seem like a boy scout.
He’d left it all nearly three years ago when his mother died and he came home his own man and turned the money she had left him into a series of lucrative property investments under her maiden name, since no one wanted to deal with a Dolohov.
It appeared though, that his past was reluctant to let him go so easily.
“I don’t owe Vlad anything,” He said flatly.
The other man snorted, “And vil you be the one to tell him this? Because I like my face vithout his fist rearranging it.”
This was true, and while Dolohov wasn’t afraid to take on the Russian wizard in a fair duel, or a fair fight for that matter, Vlad had a nasty reputation for hexing when people’s backs were turned and then scattering pieces of them in public fountains.
The man was, to put it mildly, a fucking nutter.
“He cannot seriously expect me to kidnap someone!” he insisted.
The other man shrugged, “vot can I say? He does.”
Dolohov groaned, “Why does he even want her? What on earth could Vlad possibly want with James Potter’s wife? I’ve seen her in the paper; she doesn’t look like she would even know him. He usually goes for dead eyed blonde whores, this woman looks like a fucking porcelain doll for Merlin’s sake! And isn’t she pregnant?”
“The Boss put down a significant bet that the English team vill not beat the Russian team in the vorld cup qualifiers, apparently he does not trust their ability to vin vithout his assistance.”
This made more sense.
“So let me get this straight,” he said in a dangerously calm tone, “I’m supposed to kidnap the woman and then do what with her?”
“Hand her to us and ve vill do the rest.”
He sighed again, “I guess I don’t have much choice do I?”
“No,” said the Bulgarian unsympathetically, “You don’t.”
He was once again cursing his luck as he stood outside the sprawling country house just outside Godric’s Hollow watching people as they stood laughing and drinking in the gardens. He’d been told that Regina Potter would be present at the rehearsal dinner for one of the Weasley cousins who was apparently marrying the boy whose parents owned the house.
He’d spotted her almost immediately, and as he had suspected, she was heavily pregnant.
He really did not want to do this. But, as he’d thought about it earlier, he’d decided that while Mrs Potter was unlikely to enjoy the experience, she was also equally unlikely to be harmed. Even Vlad wasn’t stupid enough to piss of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, the two best aurors going, and since this was their daughter/niece in law, only a fool would think they’d turn a blind eye to any harm done to her.
No, all that would happen would be that Regina would enjoy less than comfortable accommodation until the match was over and her husband fumbled the snitch.
And really, he felt his life was worth more than a Quidditch match.
Like most of the women present she was redheaded, however even from this distance he could tell her apart because her hair was a golden red, rather than the flaming colour the Weasley’s were famous for and because she had, quite helpfully for him, worn a set of white dress robes and a sky blue wrap, causing her to stand out in a crowd primarily composed of darker colours.
Lucy shivered in the cool evening air, cursing her decision to leave her coat at home to show off her new cream robes. They were cut low in the back, dipping daringly down her spine and she’d felt a coat would ruin the effect. Not that she knew why she’d bothered, there were no men here she wasn’t either related to or had known her whole life except for a couple of Scamander cousins who she instantly discarded since she’d heard them discussing Snorkshack breeding.
She had no interest in people who tried to breed mythical creatures.
Thankfully Luna appeared on the terrace and invited everyone inside, Lucy followed with trepidation, she’d experienced Scamander family cooking at Dom’s engagement party and never again wanted to be served smoked gurdeyroot.
As she had expected, the food was mildly terrifying. She stared bemusedly at her purple slime as everyone else politely poked it. Picking up her spoon she almost immediately dropped it as she heard Hugo’s cry of alarm, when, after poking his slime, it poked him back.
“Don’t mind them,” Said Luna dreamily, “They don’t know they’re food yet.”
The only people in the room to continue eating after this statement were the Scamander family. Everyone else looked vaguely nauseated.
Regina, seated next to her groaned, “I’m hungry!” she hissed to her husband.
James chuckled, “Well don’t blame me! I’m not the one who forgot to tell dinner that it was edible!”
“It wouldn’t do much good now,” Lucy observed, “since it seems to be making a break for freedom.”
Regina stifled a horrified shriek as her slime crawled into Lucy’s bowl.
“Cool!” exclaimed James enthusiastically, “I think they’re mating!”
“How is it you’re twenty-seven, married, an expectant father and you’re still less mature than this slime?” demanded his wife peevishly.
He chuckled, unrepentant, “Well, we have no idea how old this slime is and from the looks of it it too will soon be an expectant father…”
Lucy chuckled at her cousin’s idiocy. She had always liked James, he had graduated when she was in her first year before she’d spent much time at school with him, and she and Louis, being so much younger than the others, had always been left out of family games growing up. But since she had graduated and started working in the shop where he often spent time when he wasn’t training they had gotten closer.
Regina turned to her beseechingly, “I thought this might happen, so I stashed some food in my purse but I think I left it outside, would you run and get it? I’m too big to slip out unnoticed and James has to make a speech soon since he’s Dom’s maid of honour.”
Looking at the mating ritual being enacted by her dinner Lucy grinned, “I’d be happy to.”
“Thank you! Oh! And take my wrap! It’s getting cold outside!”
This was it, Dolohov gritted his teeth, she was standing by one of the benches in the garden completely alone as she stared up at the stars. She’d tied her hair up at some point during the evening and her pregnancy was invisible from behind. But he recognized the toffee hair and the wrap from this distance.
There would be no better opportunity than this. Sighing as he jumped the fence he quickly tossed his cloak over her head since he had no desire for her to pick him out of a lineup later, before dis-apperating back to the dingy waterside pub.
This wasn’t right though, he decided as he stood on the other side of the door he had locked her in, she was too silent, and he felt that in a pregnant woman this was a bad thing. What if she went into shock? He might have been forced to kidnap her but he decided that he owed it to her to let her know that she wouldn’t be harmed.
He ran downstairs to the landlord behind the bar.
“Do you have a mask or something I could borrow?”
The man wordlessly pulled out a black mask to cover his eyes without asking any questions.
Dolohov blinked and made a mental note to keep watch on both his and Regina Potter’s doors tonight.
He entered the room with some trepidation, prepared to find her hysterical. Instead she had removed his cloak and stood by the grimy window, watching the dockside scene outside with interest. She wore a low back dress that showcased her slender shoulders. She didn’t look pregnant from this angle, but then she was built on delicate lines. He could see why Potter had married her; even from behind she was smoking.
She was the first to break the silence, “Muggle’s are so resourceful don’t you think?”
He blinked, stunned, “I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Then do,” she suggested politely, turning around.
He almost dropped his wand, Merlin’s pants! He’d kidnapped the wrong woman! He’d only seen Regina Potter in the paper once but this girl, because he now realized how young she was, was too tall. Her hair was a soft shade between blonde and brown that shimmered with bronze lights from the window at her side. He hadn’t even managed to kidnap a fucking redhead.
Oh, and she was also very clearly not pregnant.
“You’re not Regina Potter,” was all he could think of to say.
She gave a gurgle of laughter, “No, I’m not.”
Dolohov blinked, unsure how to react. The girl was just standing there staring at him with absurdly innocent brown eyes. She didn’t look the least alarmed, merely faintly amused as her lips quirked upwards in a slight smile.
“You have my apologies.”
“That I also assumed.”
Her cool attitude was beginning to annoy him, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting but her nonchalance was unnerving.
“Most girls would be in hysterics by now,” he suggested.
She snorted, “That always seemed useless to me.”
He gritted his teeth, “I don’t think anyone has hysterics with a mind to being useful.”
She looked slightly baffled, “Then why have them?”
“Because you’re frightened and overwhelmed at being kidnapped?” he suggested dryly.
She studied him intently, “Do I have a reason to be frightened and overwhelmed?” she asked pleasantly, “I was under the impression you were going to let me go since I’m clearly not Regina.”
“Well you’re still taking this mighty coolly! For all you know I might be a terrifying maniac capable of great violence!”
Most people would assumed he was actually, he knew his similar appearance to his famous father, the mass murderer and death eater, made up most peoples minds on that. But even before they knew his name he was too big, too brooding, too hulking and too angry for anyone to approach without trepidation.
He didn’t like the trepidation, but damnit he didn’t like being dismissed as harmless this casually either.
“Look,” she said in a soothing voice, “I didn’t mean to insult your masculinity. I’m sure lots of people think you’re very threatening…”
“They do!” he said angrily, then he immediately cursed himself for sounding like a blustering idiot.
“I’m sure,” she continued in the same voice, “And if you would like me to have hysterics I’m happy to oblige if you just let me go.”
He gritted his teeth again and forced himself to speak slowly, “No one is this logical, you’re clearly a maniac.”
She smirked and raised one eyebrow, “Coming from the man who kidnaps the wrong girl and then gets angry because she remains calm and does not have hysterics?”
Lucy studied her captor intently; he looked like he was resisting the urge to hit something. She remembered that some people found her coolness irritating and made a mental note not to push her luck. Unfortunately she didn’t know how to fake cry, hell she hardly knew how to real cry, it just wasn’t her style. She was more likely to seek refuge in sarcasm or debate.
But her instincts told her that while this man was dangerous, he was not intending to hurt her. She had no clear idea of his face but the rest of him so neatly filled the description of the villain’s sidekick in any trashy novel she couldn’t help but laugh.
He wore black robes for a start, and his hair, slightly too long, was also black. His complexion was tanned and both his immense height and his bulk probably made sure he was used to a more frightened reaction than she was having.
She couldn’t say exactly why she wasn’t terrified. She just wasn’t. She was more amused than anything else. She’d been getting bored with her usual routine and here, heaven sent, was a distraction, although she had had her fill of the distraction now and would very much like to return to the party before anyone missed her and caused some sort of hideous drama trying to find her.
“Who are you?” He demanded.
“Never heard of you.”
She stifled her annoyance. Of course he hadn’t. Herself and Louis were usually pushed to the background of Weasley affairs and childhood games. With so many famous and dramatic family members she was used to being overlooked, but from this man it somehow annoyed her.
“Well I’ve never heard of you either, so I suppose we’re even. Although I’m not sure if that’s because I don’t tend to spend time with low life criminals or because you were rude enough to skip introductions.”
Surprisingly, he chuckled, “I like you Lucy Weasley.”
This alarmed her, “Regrettably,” she said coolly, “The feeling isn’t really mutual.”
“That’s understandable, I suppose.” He continued to grin at her though.
Shaking off a vague sensation in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t pinpoint which had appeared when he smiled she tried to scowl sternly.
“I think it would be best for all involved if you just let me go,” she said calmly.
He considered this, “I’m going to have to disagree.”
She narrowed her eyes, “Why?”
“I feel like it.”
“What?” she demanded, outraged, “That makes absolutely no sense.”
“Life doesn’t make sense.”
Lucy had always hated that saying, “Only if you’re too stupid to understand it,” she snapped.
He burst out laughing, “Does it really matter why I’m keeping you here, I promise you won’t get hurt, what do you care beyond that.”
“Of course I care!” she said flatly, “You should always be able to explain why you’re doing what you’re doing!”
He blinked, “That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Do you never act on instinct?”
She snorted, “That’s an idiots word for impulse.”
He chuckled, “Either way, sometimes you just have to let go.”
She raised one eyebrow and surveyed him disdainfully, “What, like you do?”
He winked in answer.
“Since ‘acting on instinct’ has led you to botch a kidnapping, I think you’ve just undermined your own case.”
He scowled, his dark brows knitting together above his absurd mask, “Has anyone ever told you you’re a brat?”
“If my company is unpleasant feel free to let me go,” she suggested hopefully.
His scowl disappeared, “No, because then you’ll tell Regina Potter what I’m going to do.”
“See, there was a logical reason behind not wanting to let me go, it wasn’t ‘instinct’!”
He burst out laughing and turned back towards the door, “Stay put Lucy Weasley, you’re a keeper.”
She blinked, “I don’t know what that means…”
His laughter continued as he walked down the corridor after confiscating her wand.
Lucy sighed and sat down on the bed, this was going to be really unpleasant when everyone noticed she was gone. She hated the noisy scenes her cousins enacted so frequently, and she knew, since it had been over an hour since her abduction that everyone would be up in arms trying to find her.
As she took survey of the room, hoping to find an escape she wondered idly whether it would be James or Freddy who would be the first to swear a nonsensical oath of eternal vengeance…
She supposed she ought to cry. That was what people usually did in these situations. But she just didn’t seem to be able to manage it. She also wasn’t terribly frightened, irritated, yes, but not frightened.
Lily or Roxie would be having hysterics, she supposed. Rose or Vic would probably cry too, she decided upon reflection. She thought Dom would probably swear and throw a chair through the window, which, while destructive, seemed more interesting than crying.
Lucy looked curiously at the one rickety chair in the room, but decided against the window plan when another occurred to her.
Getting up off the bed she began to strip the sheets and pillowcases off it, and, jamming the chair securely beneath the windowsill, regretfully mourning the loss of the wand her kidnapper had confiscated, began to knot the sheets together
She sighed again as she shimmied down the sheets, she had been rather fond of that wand.
There you go, hopefully you like this chapter enough to follow the story! Please leave me a review and let me know what you think!
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