welcome to ravenclaw

Lorcan Scamander is, in essence, the definition of a Ravenclaw. With his shaggy brown locks and perfect blue eyes, all the girls follow him around. Too bad he's too entirely consumed with studying to care.

Enter Lucy Weasley.

She was, at first, just the little sister of his friend Molly. But what caught his attention at first was the fact that her hair was not Weasley-red like he'd expected. It was… brown.


And then she was sorted into Ravenclaw with him. Which, again, he hadn't expected, seeing as she was the first Weasley to be sorted into Ravenclaw. I mean, sure, Slytherin, but Ravenclaw?

Their table erupts in cheers. Dumbfounded, Lorcan got up and shook her hand. ("You're Lucy! I'm Lorcan, third year, nice to meet you.")

She just nods. "Nice to meet you too."

Lucy Weasley is the first girl he's ever really noticed. All other girls blend into the background ("Hey, who's that?" "Lorcan Scamander, but don't even try, I swear he's having a romance affair with his textbooks,"), but she's the first to ever really try.

"Hey, Lorcan," she says brusquely, planting her books down to ensure that no one sits beside him before she gets the chance.

"Lucy," he greets her. It's barely audible, but she doesn't seem to care.

"Studying, again?" She studies his book. "Do you have any free time, Scamander?"

"Not like you have any," Lorcan grumbles.

"More than you," Lucy grins. "Come on, I know I'm only a first year and I don't know, but you can't possibly have that much homework."

"I don't," Lorcan replies simply. "I like solitude."

Solitude to him is in essence, the absence of people, and the only time when he can truly think. It's not only about school; he also thinks about life. It's one of the things that got him in Ravenclaw.

"So do I," She tells him. And then, without another word to him, she walks off, in search of bigger and better things that don't include him.

He's never been more mesmerized.

"Can you ask Molly about her sister?" he whispers to his Gryffindor brother when he next sees him.

"Got a thing for Lucy Weasley, have ya?" Lysander beams. Lorcan can tell that he's only happy that his brother is finally interested in a girl. "Well, lay off, she's only a first year."

"Fine," Lorcan complains. And he does- he watches as she goes through first year, then second, and then all of a second she's in third and he's in fifth year already.

One day, he's walking down the hallway when suddenly she brushes his shoulder. "Oh, I'm sorry- Scamander? Long time, no see."

"Yes, I know," he replies. He knows all too well.

"Are you playing Quidditch?" she inquires. Lorcan resists the urge to guffaw- Lorcan Scamander playing Quidditch? Surely she's heard about him- he's the essence of uncoordinated, the picture boy for the Flying teacher's worst nightmare. But she doesn't seem to care.

"No," He tells her, looking at her orbs of blue. "Why?"

"Well, I'm playing, and I was worried I wouldn't have any supporters," Lucy blushes, glancing down at the ground.

Sighing, Lorcan raises an eyebrow. "So you were planning on asking me to come?"

"I suppose," Lucy shrugs.

"I'll be there," he promises, for once not caring about the consequences.

At the first Quidditch game, it rains so hard the rain breaks through his weak, fifth-year Shielding Charm. Still, he sits there loyally (like some sort of masochistic Hufflepuff), waving his water-soaked and ink-run poster, declaring I Support Team Ravenclaw and Lucy Weasley!

After the game, he sticks around, waiting for Lucy. She sees him and walks over. The girl takes her careful time. "I like your poster."

"It was ruined by the rain," He explains, glancing shamefully at it. "I came."

"I doubted you would," She admits. "We've only talked all of two or three times."

"Doesn't mean I haven't noticed you," Lorcan smiles. "You're different, Lucy Weasley, did you know that?"

"I'm reminded of it every day," Lucy tells him. A ghost of a smile appears on her face, but she turns it into a frown. "I'm not perfect, friendly Molly, or funny Dominique, or pretty Victoire, or snarky James, or prank-loving Fred. I'm just smart, quiet Lucy."

"What's wrong with that?" Lorcan asks quietly.

Slowly, she lifts her head up and her eyes meet his. "Nothing, I suppose."

"And you forgot to mention that you're a killer on the Quidditch field," Lorcan reminds her. "You beat Slytherin- how could anyone be disappointed?"

"Bet the Slytherins are," Lucy laughs. Her laugh is like bells, so he can't help but laugh too.

After that, they don't ignore each other anymore.

In her fourth year, his sixth, they have another run-in and Lorcan requests that she come out and watch the stars with him.

"Are we allowed to?" she questions, a small smile on her face.

"Would I ask you to if we weren't allowed to?" Lorcan grins.

Shrugging, Lucy reminds him, "It could have been Lysander's idea. Breaking rules- sounds like his idea of a perfect night."

"Don't speak of my Gryffindor brother again," Lysander jokes. "He's a disgrace to the family, he is."

"I am too," Lucy laughs. "Well, it is late already- and you were prefect last year, they can't possibly punish you."

"They could," Lorcan smirks. "But I don't care."

"Such a bad boy," Lucy teases. Then he takes her hand softly and guides her outside. The stars, beautiful as always, sparkle up above.

"Did you know that some of those stars have already blown up?" Lorcan informs her.

"Such a positive sentiment," Lucy replies, frowning just a bit. "But yeah, I've heard that. Not a fun thing to know, is it?"

Lorcan looks solemnly at her. "Everything has an end."

Their end doesn't come until the next year, when Lorcan is going to leave school and start his life. Lucy doesn't want to be the one holding him back.

"I'll be out of here in two years," Lucy promises. "And then, if you still love me-"

"Don't worry, Luce, I probably won't change my mind," He smiles widely. "Just kidding- Ravenclaw sarcasm and all that, you know."

"I know," Lucy grins, and with that grin still in place, she leans in and kisses him on the lips. "But Ravenclaw snogs are good too."

They say their goodbyes, and though Lucy Weasley (the smart, quiet one), never cries, he can still see a trace of a tear making its way down her face.

Or maybe that's just a hallucination, he can never tell.

She's different than all other girls, that's for sure. He can't predict her like all other girls.

But maybe that's a good thing.

A/N: well, welcome to my first Lucy/Lorcan fic!

Tell me what you think!