only a dream



If there's one thing that Molly Weasley II doesn't believe in, it's fairytales.

She believes in magic, sure. How can she not? She's grown up having the importance of magic drilled into her head, about how they can use it for a purpose, like to get somewhere in life. Her father's dream job is for her to be an official at the Ministry of Magic.

What he doesn't know is that her dream job is a writer. She's smart, sure, and sort of reasonable, but that doesn't mean that she wants to work for the Ministry. Her father doesn't seem to care, becoming very angry when she admits that she doesn't- didn't ever- want to work for the Ministry.

How can Molly believe in fairytales when she's not even allowed to choose her own fate?


Her parents buy a large house by the seashore. By the seashore because it reminds her book-obsessed mother of the Muggle romance novels she often reads, large because it shows all of their status and power and all of that stuff that Molly doesn't care about in the slightest.

The only thing that she cares about is the wide sea that expands in front of them and the fact that Louis and Dominique live a bit down the way.

When she's still young, her Uncle Bill takes her and Dominique out on the Muggle boat that he rents on weekends. The wind blows through her red hair, tousling the orange coloured curls, and she decides that this is lovely. She has more inspiration than ever before, as she gazes out at the sea, sparkling below. One day, she decides, she's going to sail a boat.

Once she gets home, she begs and pleads with her father to get a boat, telling him that it will help her eventually in the long run on her path to the 'Ministry'. It's just proof of her persuasive power when a small, brown boat appears on her parents' dock the next day.

She paints the boat green with golden swirls and enlists Teddy Lupin to help her charm the boat with thousands of tiny polka dots. It's nothing like what Lucy, the dreamer, might've envisioned, but she loves it nonetheless.

Sometimes, she takes it out for a spin too, even though she's probably not supposed to.

That's the one place where she gets most of her inspiration.


When Molly's around ten and Lucy's eight, Victoire comes over, arms overloaded with different types of books. Lucy and Molly's mum Audrey rush over, her mum exclaiming over the title and proclaiming to them that she'd read the stories as a child. As she explains the plot about four little children who travel to a magical world, Molly crosses her arms across her chest and realises that it sounds an awful lot like a fairytale, which she doesn't believe in. Lucy, however, grins and takes the books up to her room, thanking Victoire profusely.

Though Molly can't for the life of her understand why, Lucy falls in love with the books. Everywhere that they go, Lucy's there, book in hand.

One day, Molly asks tentatively, "Why d'you like those books so much?"

Lucy's bright blue eyes brighten even more and she goes off onto a tangent about another world where there's four kids, Lucy (who she thinks of as like herself), Peter, Edmund (she (Lucy thinks he is probably the best character ever), and Susan. She describes their adventures, their coming to Narnia, their time there, and more. The way she talks, Molly thinks it's almost as if… almost as if she believes it to be real.

But she's Lucy, Molly deduces, and she's innocent and sweet and the type that believes in daydreams. Everyone always says that Molly has a good head on her shoulders.

Because no matter how much she writes about other worlds, she doesn't believe that they're real.


One day during her sixth year, when Molly returns from a time around the boat, she sees the stars shining in Lucy's eyes and knows something's up. With a frown, she crosses her arms. "You look awfully happy, Lucy."

"Am I not allowed to be happy?" She retorts in true Ravenclaw fashion, but she grins brightly anyway. "Molly, I went to Narnia!"

"You went to Narnia?" Molly repeats, disbelief seeping through her tone as she stares at Lucy. "Lucy, that's impossible! They're fictional books. Fictional. You can't go to a place that's fictional!"

"But," Lucy replies as if she's stating the obvious, "Narnia's not fictional."

Something flashes in Molly's eyes. She doesn't understand- how can this little girl stand here and tell her that Narnia's not fictional when it's in a book intended for young children? But, staring at her, she just shakes her head slowly. "You mean to tell me that you actually believe there's a Narnia?"

"I've been there," little innocent fourteen-year-old Lucy informs her with a scowl. "Look, Molly, you're a writer, right? You write about real life situations because no one else knows they're actually real! It's probably the same thing that he did!"

"But I don't write about other worlds," Molly tells her. "Right, if you've been to Narnia, tell me how to get there."

"I don't know," Lucy begins. "You can't go the same way again-"

But it's too late for her explanations, Molly already gets that it's not reasonable in her opinion. Flipping her red curls off over her shoulder and gripping her diamond necklace in her pale hand so that it cuts into the soft skin of her palm, she storms off, heading right back to the boat for another round of sailing. It's the only thing that can take her mind off of this insanity.

As she sails, she thinks that she sees some strange sort of animal, but she writes it off as her imagination.

There's no way that Lucy could be telling the truth.

Molly doesn't believe in dreaming or anything of the like.


"I went back to Narnia!" Lucy exclaims, running up to Molly. "Molls, I went back to Narnia again and Edmund kissed me and-"

"Sure you did," Molly replies, scowling at her younger sister. "Lucy, Narnia doesn't exist."

"It does," Lucy protests. "I went there, Molly, I went there twice, the first time they only showed me around, but this time I realised how wonderfully handsome Edmund was- is- and we sort of fell in love. It's the best feeling ever."

Something seems to prod right into Molly's heart. "What about Lorcan?" Though she's not close to him, his twin Lysander is her best friend, so it's only natural that she should care a bit about what he feels. She also knows that he's been in love with Lucy since first year, and this would result in heartbreak for him. She doesn't wish that on anyone.

Lucy cocks her head, letting her perfectly straight, wispy brown hair fall into her face. "What about Lorcan? Am I promised to him already or something?"

"No, but you know he's in love with you," Molly replies, knowing fully well that Lorcan had asked her out a few months ago and she'd declined. As far as she knows, Lucy and Lorcan are still best friends though. "This- you and fictional boy- would break his heart, no matter how fictional the boy is."

"He's not fictional!" Lucy protests once more. "He's a king of Narnia, Molly. You would love him, I'm sure!"

"Sure," Molly snorts, backing up a little bit. "Too bad I'll never meet him cause he's just a figment of your imagination."

"You'll regret those words one day, Molly Grace!" is the last thing Molly hears before she storms away, tossing her red curls over her shoulder.

Molly seriously doubts that.


It's a warm, sunny day when Molly Weasley stomps outside. She's tired of hearing Lucy and her mum obsess over the wonderfulness of Narnia and the bright warmth of Lucy's imagination. She's even more tired of hearing her father's thick-headed views on the importance of the Ministry. In vengeance, she's stolen Lucy's Narnia book, the first in the collection and Lucy's absolute favourite of the entire series, and stored it in her bag. It feels heavy on her shoulder, like it's weighing her down.

Sighing, she walks out to her favourite tree, laden with different types of fruits and beautiful, huge green leaves. Leaning back against it, she wiggles her toes in the sand and tries to cheer herself up.

Suddenly, footsteps indicate that she's not alone. She glances up to see her best friend, Lysander Scamander, towering above her. He doesn't even hesitate, but just sits down and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Hey, beautiful. Something wrong?"

"Don't call me that, I'm not beautiful," She says, burying her face in her hands. "And it's my family… they don't understand me at all, do they, Ly? Anyway," she continues, sitting up to look him right in his (gorgeous) blue eyes, "Why are you here? I mean, not that I'm not happy to see you, but…"

"I know, I know," He grins at her. "You are certainly beautiful, your family doesn't really understand you, and I came here because I have something to tell you."

"What do you have to tell me?" She smiles, forgetting about her family as she loses herself in his blue like the sea eyes.

He looks at her, staring at her like she's something beautiful. With a sigh, he just opens his mouth, and closes it again, looking like he's trying to tell her something but he's too nervous. Then, grinning slightly, he decides to just come out and say it. "I've known you for almost our whole lives, Molly, and you're one of the most amazing people I've ever met. I really meant it when I said you're beautiful because… I love you."

"Of course you love me," Molly smiles warmly at him. "I love you too, Ly, you're my best friend…"

"No," He replies, more urgently now. "I mean I love you, Molly, not in the best friend kind of way…"

With a yelp, she jumps to her feet, nearly falling over so that she's forced to grab onto the tree. She stares down at him, knowing she's being kind of mean but there's no way that he means what she thinks he does, right?

"What did you say?"She manages to croak out, still holding on to the tree as not to fall over.

"I said I love you, Molly," He repeats, staring at her.

Her voice, so low and emotionless now, comes out in a harsher tone. "No. I mean, Lysander, I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry, but I can't. I don't want to hurt you, really, I don't…" She starts to break down into tears.

Without thinking about it, Lysander opens his arms for a hug.

Tears still cascading down her face, she shakes her head rapidly, stumbling a bit backwards before turning on her heel and running as fast as she can away until she reaches her prized boat.

She doesn't look up- doesn't see the cloudy sky. Instead, she just jumps in, taking hold of the sail and displaying it proudly. Releasing her boat from the dock, she waits, hesitates, until a sudden gust of wind blows and her boat sets off.

Still, she doesn't notice the ominous clouds soaring above. She just leans back, same as usual, and allows herself to float to anywhere at all. In her opinion, anywhere's better than here.

For some reason, she closes her eyes, feeling an awful lot like going to sleep.

So that's what she does.

The storm clouds close in above her.


When she first wakes up, she doesn't know what's going on.

She imagines at first that she's swinging on the hammock at her Uncle Bill's- but no, it wouldn't be rocking so rapidly. Quickly, she sits up to feel raindrops on her forehead, which is never a good sign.

"Oh no," She mutters. With a start, she realises that she's not on a hammock- she's on a boat, in the middle of the ocean, and there's a storm raging around her.

Into the darkness, she screams, before realising it will do her no good. The boat's already rocking out of control. She wraps her arms around her body and prepares for death, because she thinks that's the only thing that can come of this. Her wand is somewhere way below the deck she's crouched on, hidden away in her bag. There's the sick, crunching sound of the wood against stone, and then she's thrown into the waves. As she sinks down beneath them, she finds herself at peace.

Death isn't so bad, she realises as she feels warm water surround her. Trying not to inhale any water, she closes her eyes and lets herself drift away, away into a place called Death. It's so close but so far away.

It's then that she slips away, fading into the darkness.


Her eyes flutter open, and she wonders if she's dead. She has to be, right? There's no way she could've survived that boat crash.

Is this heaven? She wonders wearily, pushing herself up to a sitting position and feeling something warm under her hand. With a sigh, she looks around, and all she sees is blue. Wearily, she blinks, and pain rushes through her entire body, causing her to shriek in agony and fall back into something that's not so hard.

She's not dead, that's the first thing she realises. It's impossible to be dead and still be in pain. With a glance up at the sky, she realises that she just has to be alive.

The second thing she realises is that she has no idea where she is.

Curling her fist up and letting whatever's in it, she realises that it's sand running through her fingers, landing in a pile on the ground. With a sigh, she closes her eyes slowly once again, hoping that maybe she'll wake up and find that it's all a dream.

Her hand clenches around something. The bag that had been hidden below deck. How had that gotten here?

Shaking her head, she thinks, definitely a dream.

Something like pain pierces her heart.


When she finally awakens from her sleep of sorts, she hears voices all around her.

"Reckon she's alive?" Someone says from not far away.

"I reckon so, she seems to have a heartbeat at the very least," Someone else responds. It's a deep, manly voice, and she doesn't recognize it. Slowly, she opens her eyes to see deep pools of brown and she realises that a very handsome boy is standing over her.

Her eyes widen and her heart skips a beat. Trying to keep her telltale voice under control, she says, "I believe I'm alive." She cringes from pain and her own stupidity.

"I believe you are too," The boy says, shooting back as if he's surprised, which probably he is. "You would not happen to be a… a human, would you?"

"We have not had a human come to visit us in ages, since, since…" A girl's voice interrupts, and she skips over to Molly, twirling a brown curl around her finger. "What is your name, Daughter of Eve? And where have you come from?" Her blue eyes shine with pure happiness.

She sits up, looking around at the four people surrounding her, and she realises that her usual cynical approach won't help her here. There's no way possible that she could be here, randomly washed up, alive- she's Molly and she doesn't believe in miracles. But now, she just blinks a few times and decides that if this is some sort of sick joke or a dream, she'll just play along for now. "I'm Molly. Molly Weasley. I come from, um, England?"

The shorter jumps to her feet. "Could you possibly be-"

Glaring at her, the younger boy clamps a hand over the girl's mouth. "My apologies for her behaviour. She is obviously not in her right mind. My name is Edmund, by the way, Molly Weasley. Nice to meet you." He extends his hand with a grin, and she shakes it.

Suddenly, another boy walks up, pushing the other boy to the side. "My apologies for my brother's behaviour! All of them are clearly out of their minds. My name is Peter, Molly, nice to meet you."

Blinking, she shakes his hand too, wondering why these two handsome boys are subtly fighting over her. This has to be a dream. But she nods, smiling. "Nice to meet you, Peter, Edmund, um…" She smiles at the other two girls to the side.

The darker-headed, taller one steps up, crossing her arms. "Susan. Susan Pevensie, and that is my younger sister Lucy. And I believe we are all wondering how you managed to get here from the normal land."

Susan's tone is harsh, and Molly doesn't miss the looks that Edmund and Peter shoot at Susan. But she's a Gryffindor for some reason and she manages to hold her own. "Normal land, eh? You mean the world of the…" She stops herself from saying Muggle, "Normal people? I can assure you that I'm not normal in the least, thank you, but it's nice to meet you, Susan and Lucy. Now, if you'd please, where am I?"

"Where are you?" The siblings throw each other amused looks. "Why, Molly, you are in Narnia."

"Narnia?" She repeats, dumbfounded.

This has to be a dream. There's no way she could've crashed on a boat and ended up in the fairytale land of her sister's books. It doesn't exist. It's only a figment of some old, dead man's imagination.

But as she stares at Edmund, feels his hand on her arm as he says, "Yes, welcome to Narnia," and breathes in the perfectly clean air around her, she feels that this has to be real.

It's obviously insane, though, and she has no idea what's going on.

The thought that maybe Lucy was right all along plagues her mind, and it scares her more than anything else.


That night, Edmund slings her bag over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing and offers to take her to her room. She just smiles and follows him, shooting an awkward stare at the other three Pevensie children who just stare at her, openmouthed.

"This is your room," Edmund declares, glancing around at the rose-coloured walls and petal-printed walls. The look in his eyes indicates that there's some sort of memory behind this room, but Molly decides not to press it.

"Thanks, Edmund," She says with a small smile.

"You can call me Ed," He replies quickly, awkwardly. Then he quickly follows it up. "I mean, if you want to."

She just nods her head. "Good night, Ed."

"Night, Molly," He says, staring at her as if she's expecting her to do something, before quickly shaking his head and closing the door behind him. It closes with a bang, leaving her to just stare after it and shake her head quickly.

She rushes over to the bed, digging through her bag before pulling out the book that somehow survived the journey (it's magic, okay?) and flipping to the first page, reading about the Pevensies. She flips through the pages. Lucy Pevensie. Susan Pevensie. Peter PevensieEdmund Pevensie.

Quickly, she shakes her head. No, they can't be the same. No, no, no.

King Peter the Great, Queen Lucy the Valiant, Queen Susan the Gentle, King Edmund the Just. These are the kings and queens of fairytales, of history. They are surely not the four normal looking teenagers she'd seen a few minutes ago. She doesn't allow herself to believe it.

But that small part of her makes her pick up the book and lose herself in the tales of Narnia, finally realising what it's like to live a dream.

By the time she falls asleep that night, she wonders again why she'd never believed in dreams or anything of the like.

In her opinion, this is as good as a dream.


That night she dreams of Lysander Scamander and Edmund Pevensie.

She's trapped in the middle, and both of them are holding her hands, Lysander with his bright blue eyes like the seas and Edmund with his chocolate brown eyes, both pleading with her, both pulling at her until she feels as if she's going to rip in half.

Then Lucy appears in the backdrop, drooping like a wilting flower, brown hair falling in her eyes. She's crying, a normal occurrence for the overdramatic girl, but it seems different now somehow. With a worried glint in his eye, Edmund drops Molly's hand and rushes over to Lucy.

She smarts at the betrayal, if only for a second, before Lysander wraps his arms around her, pulling her into another hug. He whispers something in her ear, so soft that she can barely make it out.

"Don't get sucked in, Molly."

She wakes up in a cold sweat. Is it meant to be a warning to her, the dream? Is it meant to be just because she's thinking of them a lot?

But she can say with the utmost (well, sort of) uncertainty that she's not in love with Lysander. And Edmund- she's barely even known him a day, there's no way she's in love with him.


Even magic can't make love work that way, and she doesn't believe in love at first sight, anyway.

Yawning, she pushes her exhausted body out of the bed, taking a quick glance at her tousled hair and disheveled appearance before discovering that she doesn't really care and pulling on some random clothes. She walks out, still tired, to see Lucy Pevensie about to reach for the door.

"Oh," She says with a giggle. "Hello there, Molly, Ed sent me to come fetch you for breakfast, as he figured you might be indecent. Such the gentleman."

"I'm coming," Molly says, feeling a bit uncomfortable, especially because of her dream last night, but she follows Lucy downstairs to their makeshift kitchen anyway. Peter, who's already seated at the table, shoots her a quick grin, and Edmund waves at her.

She sits down, staring uncomfortably at the plate of food. "What is this meat stuff?"

"We do not know," Peter informs her with a grin. "You should eat it; it tastes good."

Deciding not to debate with him, she just starts to eat everything and anything, finding (to her surprise) that everything is rather good, and that's weird for a picky eater like Molly.

Once she finishes, she gets up, putting her hands on her hips. "So, have we decided how I'm going to get back?"

"Back to where?" Edmund and Peter exchange confused looks.

"To my country, my time, of course," Molly says, sounding perfectly reasonable as always. "I can't stay here forever, right?"

Edmund quickly mouths something to Peter, eyebrows raised, before turning back to Molly. "You are ready to return home already?"

"Not really," She rolls her eyes. "But, you know, this is probably screwing up the time and space continuum and it's just not right for me to be here so…"

They exchange glances that indicate that they have no idea what she's talking about. She heaves a huge sigh, shaking her head. "Never mind then."


Time in Narnia, she soon discovers, seems to pass a bit faster than time in England. Though she's not actually at all, it sort of feels like she's rushing some of the time.

One day, Edmund asks her to the waterfall, so of course she accepts. But once she gets there, he's sitting there, looking like he's been waiting a while. With a smile, he tells her, "You are a bit late."

"Am I? Did we have a specific time set, then? I wasn't aware," She grins over at him.

"We do now," He splashes his feet around in the river a bit. "But it is good that you showed up, anyway."

She nods, sitting down beside him and splashing her feet in the water. But she doesn't say anything, trying to savour the moment- the rushing waterfall, the cold, clear, water running over her feet, the feeling that Edmund Pevensie's sitting right beside her. All of this, she has a feeling, she'll one day forget.

She picks up a rock and tosses it into the water, watching the ripples it makes. Finally, Edmund speaks, breaking the silence between them. "Molly, do you still want to go back to England?"

Glancing around, she watches as the branches of a tree are blown back, as he looks at her with that look in his eyes. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming or anything?"

"No, you are surely not dreaming," He looks angry for a second before returning to his usual soft look. "But what does that have to do with anything? Do you want to go back to England still?"

"Do I?" She considers, glancing around. Then she shakes her head. "No. Not really, at the moment. I have some, um, problems with friends back in England, so it's best for me to cool down and escape here."

"Problems?" He smiles at her. "I believe they will all get better eventually, dearest Molly, but I am glad you would like to stay with us. For the moment, at least."

"For the moment," She agrees with a smile. For right now, at least, her life is all about living in the moment. And she just might like it that way. Why live in the future or in the past? It's all about what's going on right then.

Staring up at the clouds in the sky, she wonders if things could get any better.


One starry night is the beginning of her downfall.

Lucy creeps up to her room, tapping her shoulder. Molly doesn't mind because she's unable to think, anyway, with thoughts of how bad she'd probably hurt Lysander, with him all alone back in England. It's been weeks already, he's probably spent the whole time worrying about her when she's perfectly safe.

But finally, Lucy's there to distract her. Leaning down, Lucy whispers in her ear, "Look, Molly, I know that you probably need to sleep, but my brother is down there, all alone, and he probably needs someone…."

"I'll go down there, Luce," She smiles at the girl who reminds her so much of her younger sister that it's not even funny. "Thanks."

So she climbs out of bed, running her fingers through her red curls in an attempt to fluff them up, and dashes outside.

Under the starlight, Edmund sits by himself, looking as if he's deep in thought. As quietly as possible as not to scare him, she sits down beside him. "Hi, there."

"Hello, Molly," He says, turning around to smile at her. "What brings you out here?"

"Your sister said you're a bit lonely out here and suggested I keep you company," She replies with a shrug. "Got something on your mind, then?"

"I believe so," Edmund tells her with a grin, looking at her before looking back at the stars. "I am just wondering why people have to leave and then… you never see them again." The way he's looking at her, it makes her automatically assume that he's talking about her. At least, she surely hopes so.

"Don't worry about it," She smiles widely at him. "If it's meant to be- if the two of you are meant to be friends or whatever, I mean- I'm sure you'll see each other again. Otherwise, you just have to keep on living and hope to see them again."

He just shakes his head. "But what if you know there is no way? If the two of you are from different worlds, different families, different times, even. And what if you know you will miss them quite a lot?"

"You just have to believe that it'll all work out, Ed," She tells him with a grin, then realising how much she sounds like her sister and inwardly cringing.

Edmund's eyes flash over to her, and he looks happy for some weird reason, but she just chooses to ignore it. "You… you sound like someone that I knew before. Someone that I will never even see again."

"Do I?" She replies with a soft smile, realising how very close he is and feeling her cheeks starting to warm.

"Yes, you do," Edmund nods before reaching over and touching her cheek softly. "You do realise that you are blushing, right? Your cheeks are becoming quite red…"

"Oh, shut up," She says playfully, but she doesn't remove his hand. Instead, she moves in a bit closer, almost eagerly.

"I do not even know what that means," He says with a laugh before closing the distance between them, kissing her softly and sweetly unlike the idiotic guys at Hogwarts that are only out to get some. She can tell that his kiss is real, though there's something behind it that seems like he's holding back for some reason. Could it be that he doesn't really want to kiss her?

Her suspicions are confirmed when he pulls away after only a bit, staring at her. "Molly. MOLLY. No, I cannot." He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "I just cannot do this, Molly, I am very sorry, my deepest apologies."

Then he jumps to his feet, giving her one last look before shaking his head and walking off into the fog of the night. She stares after him, not entirely sure what to do other than shake her head and walk into the castle.

"Something wrong?" Susan asks gently as she walks into the castle, but Molly just shakes her head and runs up to her room, trying her very hardest not to cry (because Molly Weasley doesn't cry, ever).

She dreams that night of broken hearts and ripped dreams.


Everything doesn't seem so perfect after that.

She and Edmund are avoiding each other, for the most part, so she's forced to hang around with Susan, Lucy, and Peter. Not that she doesn't like them and appreciate their company- she does- but really, it's not the same.

"Do you know what's wrong with Edmund, Susan?" She asks, biting her lip. "He's sort of avoiding me, and he looks so guilty all the freaking time…"

Looking confused at Molly's use of slang, Susan just shakes her head. "He will tell you when he is ready, Molly, it will not be the easiest secret for you to find out about."

"You know, too?" Molly says with a sigh. "Does everyone know but me?"

"Not everyone," Susan's quick to shoot down her words. "Look, there is Edmund right there. Maybe he will have finally worked up the courage to tell you."

Looking internally conflicted, Edmund walks in. Walking up to her, he sighs. "I need to talk to you, Molly."

She stares at him before nodding, relenting, and following him with a quick smile at Susan. He takes her to one of the many parlours and sits down.

"What is it, Ed?" She asks softly.

"It is surely not you that's caused this, Molly, so do not ever think that," He tells her, running a hand through his hair. "It is not her, either."

"What do you mean, it's not her? Who is her?" Molly wonders, feeling a lot like the other woman or something.

"Lucy," He says.

Time stops.

Everything suddenly makes sense.

"I went back to Narnia again and Edmund kissed me and-"

"this time I realised how wonderfully handsome Edmund was- is- and we sort of fell in love. It's the best feeling ever."

How could she have forgotten?

Edmund was in love with Lucy. Correction, he still is in love with Lucy. All she'd been- all she is- to him is just a cheap substitution for the real thing, Lucy Weasley. He'd known all along that Molly's Lucy's sister. He just hadn't told her.

She'd let herself believe in him, but all along he'd been lying to her. It had all been fake. Well, maybe not fake, but he'd been deluding himself into thinking that she was Lucy. That was why he would wince whenever she said something Lucy-like, why he had asked about seeing a girl who he was sure he'd never going to see again- he wasn't talking about her at all, he was talking about Lucy!

Then it hit her. The reason he'd kissed her- it wasn't because he likes her, no, not at all. He'd kissed her because she was acting like Lucy and that was enough to delude him that she was Lucy, if just for a moment.

Molly didn't know how her brain had processed all of that so fast, but at the moment, she didn't care. She just stares at him, trying not to think about it, trying not to think of how very handsome he is when he's nervous.

"You figured it out, didn't you?" Edmund whispers, his voice catching the wind. "That fast, too. You're really rather smart, Molly."

"I know," She says, glaring at him. "You idiot. You absolute idiot. How could you do that, mess my sister and I up like that, by trying to do some weird romance thing? What is wrong with you?"

"I do not know," He sighs, shaking his head. "I never intended for it to turn into this…"

"We are not judged by our actions, but by our intentions," She quotes, the words rolling off her tongue as easily as if she had written them herself. "Too bad that doesn't apply to every situation, especially ones where the boy is in love with the girl's sister and is therefore using the girl for his own pleasure."

"Molly, stop it," He commands, something like fire finally blazing in his own eyes. "I know I have royally- no pun intended- done some very improper things. I know that I have hurt you, and I know how very sorry I am. But I thought you knew? I thought that Lucy would have told you? Yet you had your fun with me anyway."

"She did tell me," Molly snaps. "But I didn't believe her. I wasn't really listening at the time because I didn't really believe in dreams. I never really did, well, until I met you. But then you just went and crushed every dream I had."

"Well," He sighs in defeat, dropping his arms to his side. "I suppose we are both fairly messed up then.

"Fairly?" She just drops her arms to her side too and frowns. "I'd say we're both as messed up as it gets."

"Shall we still be friends, then?" He asks, staring hopefully at her. "I apologise once again for everything that I did. I am sort of an idiot, you see; I will do almost anything for power."

"Friends?" She seems to consider it for a moment before she holds out her hand. "Fine. Friends."

He laughs and pulls her into a hug, pushing aside her hand. "I am so sorry for, as you and Lucy would say, messing around with you. I just wanted to get over Lucy so badly that my subconscious started to play tricks on me and at times, when I looked at you, I saw Lucy, and…"

"And you couldn't help it," She said, trying to keep herself from sounding angry. "It's okay, I get it."

Then, as if she's delusional, something changes. His hair, in her vision, turns a couple of shades lighter, till it matches the chestnut of the surrounding trees. Instead of their usual chocolaty brown, his eyes brighten until the match the colour of the nearby ocean. His skin lightens a few tones, and then, and then…

He's no longer Edmund. He's now Lysander.

She gasps, blinking a few more times until he returns to his normal chocolaty self. "I get it. More than you've ever know."

"You have a special someone, then?" Edmund asks softly, a teasing undertone to his words.

She looks at him, and she's pleasantly surprised to discover that the butterflies- the jumping sensation- that used to hit her whenever she saw him is gone, and it's been replaced by some sort of apathy. Then she thinks of Lysander, pictures his face in her mind, and the butterflies return.

She's such an idiot. A complete and total idiot.

She was in love with Lysander. She is in love with Lysander. The whole time, she'd been doing the same thing that Edmund had done to her. All Edmund had really been was a cheap substitute for him.

Resisting the urge to cry, she bites her lip. Why had she run away from him? Why couldn't she have just said that she likes him too? Then they'd be in England at the beach, talking and laughing and maybe even kissing, and this whole mess with Edmund would've never even started. But she's such an idiot that she can't even realise her feelings at the appropriate time.

Running a hand through her hair, she sighs and looks up at Edmund. "I'm an idiot, Ed."

"You are not an idiot, Molly, and that is such a 21st century word for you to use," He laughs a little. "But why would you even think that?"

"Because I didn't come here for no reason, y'know," Molly tells him with a frown. "I didn't get into a boat crash just because I was out for a nice time in a boat."

"Well, what was your reason?" Edmund questions, looking sort of concerned.

"Lysander," She replies with a sigh. Seeing the confused look on his face, she elaborates. "Lysander Scamander has been my best friend since forever. He's the one that knows me the best, the one that's there for me since the beginning, He's amazing and I don't know what I'd do without him. But that day that I ended up here, I was sitting under a tree, when Ly came up and sat down beside me. Then he… he sort of told me he's in love with me." She blushes, not meeting his eyes.

"He is in love with you, then?" Edmund inquires. When she gives a slight nod, his forehead creases. "Then why are you not there with him? Why are you here? Why did you try so hard to… to be with me?" He just stares at her, obviously holding back a bit.

"He is in love with me," She confirms with a sigh. "I'm not there with him because I didn't know what to do. I thought, at the time, that I wasn't in love with him. Turns out I was only fooling myself. And I'm here because I decided that the best thing to do was run away and buy myself some time to think, so I headed off to my boat, not realising that there was a storm coming. In hindsight, that was a stupid decision, but I wasn't really thinking, I just wanted to get away and have time to think. I wanted to be with you because you were- are- handsome and I just wanted someone to make me believe that I'm not in love with Lysander. Too bad I am. And I've probably hurt him so bad, haven't I?"

"You just left him, and you are in love with him," Edmund repeats, looking concerned. "Why would you do that? You have probably hurt the poor boy. So you mean to tell me that you crashed on a boat and somehow ended up here?"

"Yes," She responds quietly. "I left him, I'm in love with him, and I don't know what I'm going to do about it." Slowly, she lifts her eyes to meet his, her own eyes shining with fresh tears. "Edmund, I have to get back there, back to Lysander."

Something flashes in his eyes. "You are definitely not Lucy."

"No." She states firmly. "I'm not, but I never claimed to be."

"That is true. I do not know what I can do to help," He says apologetically. "But I promise you that I will do whatever I can to help you to return to England."

"I suppose that's enough," She laughs, wrapping her arms around him. Into his shoulder, she mutters, "Thank you so much, Ed. If you didn't have Lucy and I didn't have Edmund, then, then…"

"Maybe," He allots, breathing in the smell of her hair, she can feel it. "Maybe."

And for those few moments, as they stand there, holding each other, maybe is enough for both of them.


When she returns to the castle, Lucy's waiting for her to hug her and dry her already falling tears.

"Why are you crying, Molly?" Lucy whispers to her, smiling a little bit.

"Edmund told me," Molly sobs into Lucy's shoulder. "He told me that he'd been using me, seeing Lucy in me where it's not really there. Then I realised that I'd been doing the same thing with him, trying to see the guy I've just figured out I'm in love with- Lysander Scamander- in him. It's so messed up, Luce, I'm so messed up."

"You are not messed up, Molly," Lucy tells her sweetly. "I miss Lucy, she was kind and sweet and reminded me of myself sometimes! But Lysander Scamander, would he have any relation to one Lorcan Scamander?"

"I am, and Lucy's sweet sometimes. Lorcan's Lysander's twin brother," She says, sighing again as the tears fall harder. "How did you know about Lorcan, anyway?"

"Lucy told me about him," Lucy says with a sweet smile. "Only she said that he was in love with her but she was not in love with him, unlike you. I feel sorry for the poor boy. Tell him Lucy gives him her sympathies."

"I will be sure to tell him that," Molly grins at her. "Thanks, Lucy, you're so good at cheering people up."

"Really, it's no problem," Lucy tells her with a smile back. "And thank you, Molly. Sadly, I must retire up to bed, but I suppose I shall see you in the morning?"

"I suppose she shall. Good night, Lucy," She tells the girl with a bit of a forlorn smile.

Lucy gives her one last hug before she goes up to bed, and Molly watches her.

She doesn't sleep that night. Images of one Lysander Scamander cloud her head. She doubts if she gets five hours of sleep over the course of that night.


It's a few days later that she finally gets up the nerve to be alone with Edmund again. And of course, they end up at the same waterfall as before.

"Memories, right?" Edmund says, smiling at her in that grim way of his. "It's hard to believe you'll be leaving soon."

"Lots of memories," She agrees, biting her lip. "It's been, well, fun. I'm actually glad I came."

"We are glad you came too, and we will all miss you," He promises. Then he sits quietly for a few seconds before speaking again. "Have you still lost all faith in dreaming?"

She considers, ponders for a moment before she responds. "I don't think so. How can someone go to Narnia and not believe in dreams? Well, at least that's some sort of character development, then," She says, satisfied.

"Character development?" Edmund repeats, completely dumbfounded.

"Oh, sorry, I'm just a writer," Molly grins at him. "It means if a person changes for the better by the end of the story. Of course I'll write a story about this, how could I resist?"

"Will I feature in it?" He asks her with a grin. "I should like a starring role."

"Well, you'll get all that you deserve, Edmund Pevensie," Molly says with a grin. "We'll see how much that is, though you might be dead by the time- well, if- it gets published."

Edmund laughs a bit, but then his eyes widen to exponential proportions. "Molly, you are fading."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Oh, you're so very funny, Ed."

"I am, I know, but this time I am not kidding. Look at your hand," He urges, still looking shocked.

Her hand is rapidly disappearing, molecule by molecule. She lifts her panicked eyes to meet his. "Edmund, what's happening?"

"I believe you are going back to your own world," He tells her solemnly. Pulling what's left of her into a hug, he informs her, "I am going to miss you a lot, and have fun in your own world. Please do tell Lucy I said hello and that I miss her lots."

"Tell Lucy and Peter and Susan that I'll miss them and we'll have to get in contact sometime," Molly says urgently, watching as her legs begin to disappear. "I'll miss you lots too, and I'll surely tell Lucy."

"Goodbye, Molly," He mutters, kissing her cheek quickly.

She blushes. "Bye, Ed," She says, and then she disappears completely.


When she begins to feel again, all she can feel is that her back is pressed against something hard and someone's hand is enclosed around her own. Opening her mouth to breathe, she splutters, coughing up water all over whoever is holding her hand.

"Molly!" A familiar someone exclaims, sounding excited. "You're alive!"

Slowly, she opens her eyes, and she finds herself looking into pools of deep blue. Lysander Scamander is sitting in front of her, looking like he's just found the most amazing thing in the world, the best gift that anyone could ever give her. No one's ever looked at her like that before.

"Yes, Lysander," She replies, her voice incredibly hoarse. "I'm definitely alive."

Laughing, he scoops her into a tight hug, muttering about how he'd thought that she was definitely dead. She clutches him back tightly, the feeling of his body against hers setting her nerve ends on edge, but in a good way.

"How did you find me?" She wonders, wrapping her arms around him tighter, hoping to never again forget how right they feel- how right she feels with him.

"If you think I didn't follow you the boat, you're insane," He laughs. "Yeah, I followed you down there and watched as you took off for who-knows-where. I watched until the storm clouds settled in, and I knew it wouldn't turn out good for you, so I hopped into the boat that your father let me borrow- his spare boat- and followed you, but at that point, it was too late. I waited out the storm before I followed you and found you here."

"And then you healed me," She teases, sitting up completely and feeling the rush of pain throughout her body. Biting her lip, she tells him, "Ly- Ly, it hurts."

"What hurts?" He asks, carefully reaching down and scooping her up into his arms. "It ought to hurt, you only just got into a huge boat crash and wrecked your boat nearly into oblivion."

"Everything hurts," She says, resisting the urge to burst into tears like a five year old. "And my… my boat? It's gone forever? You can't repair it?" Somehow, this is as big a blow as the pain that rushes through her body whenever she tries to move. She doesn't know how she'll live without her boat that she rides on, her dependable boat that's always good for a nice sail across the sea and everything.

"I see," He responds sympathetically, carrying her over to the boat as if she weighs nothing, careful not to move her. "And I believe if we get all the parts together, repairing it is entirely possible, but it'll take a lot of work. It depends on if someone is willing to help me."

"I'll help you, Ly, if you need it," She informs him with a yawn. It's becoming harder and harder for her to keep her eyes open.

"Rest, you look tired," He says, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes. "I bet you would be, after going through all of that trauma and stress…"

"But I've been, um, resting for a while now," She protests, yawning again and wondering why she can't control it. "I can't go to sleep yet! Ly, there's something I need to tell you…"

"What?" He wonders, staring down at her with a soft smile playing upon his lips. "Something wrong, Molly?"

"No, nothing's wrong, everything is perfect for once," She tells him. "I just wanted to say that I love you."

"I love you too, Molly," He replies, as if it's normal routine. "But we've already established that the way you love me isn't the same way I love you."

"No, no, no," She mumbles incoherently. "I am in love with you, Lysander."

She hears him gasp and everything, but it's all too much and her eyes close as she falls into a deep sleep. But even when she is unconscious, she can still feel him lean down and press his lips to the top of her head.

This, she decides, is the ideal setting for a nap, in Lysander's arms.


After she's finally rested enough to even put forth the effort required to open her eyes, she opens her eyes slowly, taking in the bright beams of light. Everything seems so much brighter now.

With a start, she realises that she's lying in a bed in St. Mungo's, having probably been worked on by many Healers already.

Someone gasps and informs the whole room that she's finally awakened. Another person, with brown hair, rushes over to her. With a start, Molly realises that it's her sister, Lucy. Lucy grins at her, cautiously stopping at the edge of her bed. "Molly, oh my Merlin, you're alive! We were all so terrified."

"You know," Molly answers with a laugh, "You can hug me; I don't reckon it'll hurt too much, and even if it does, I can stand the pain."

Laughing, Lucy wraps her arms around her sister. "What happened to you, Molly? You seem different somehow."

Guilt filling her heart, Molly looks up at Lucy. She tries to replace the overpowering guilt with excitement. "Lucy, I went to Narnia! I know I said I didn't believe in it at first, but I went, and it was amazing, and just everything you'd said it was. I was so stupid not to believe you, and I don't know, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I didn't believe you…"

"You went to Narnia?" Lucy repeats dubiously, letting go of Molly and stepping back a few steps. "You went to Narnia? Did you… did you see Edmund?" Her expression hardens a bit in something like jealousy.

"I did see Edmund," She responds quietly, smiling a little. "He said to tell you hello, and that he misses you terribly."

"I would say tell him I miss him terribly too, but you won't be going back there anytime soon, I suppose," She says, her words taking on a slightly hurtful edge. "I bet- I hope I'll be going back there before you will."

Molly just blinks, bewildered, at her younger sister. "I don't know if you will, I mean, do people go back to Narnia?"

"I believe with all of my heart that they do, Molly," Lucy informs her, crossing her arms tightly across her chest and looking slightly as if she's going to cry. "There are always ways to get to Narnia, even if they're a bit… unorthodox."

"What do you mean?" Molly asks, concerned, but Lucy just gives her a nonchalant shrug before walking over to the doorway.

With a small smile, she says, "I'm glad you're alive, Molly, and I'll see you later." With a wave, she walks out, and Lysander walks in.

She grins at him. "Ly. I was wondering when you'd show up."

"I've been here for a while, actually, I decided to give you some quality time with your sister," he tells her solemnly. "How are you doing?"

"Quality time?" She laughs. "I'm doing well, I suppose. As well as one can as she recovers from nearly drowning in the Crucial Ward. And you? Been having a lot of fun without me?"

"As if," He mumbles, reaching out and taking her hand in his own. "I've been worried sick about you, Molls, it's so weird to me, but it's hard to function when you're not there…"

"Hard to function, eh?" Her breath catches in her throat as she looks into his beautiful blue eyes. Sighing, she shakes her head. "I know the feeling."

He stares at her, that unfathomable look in his eyes once again. "Did you mean it? What you said, when I rescued you and you were delirious, about to fall asleep, but you just had to tell me that one last thing?"

She swallows. The audible sound seems to echo around the now quiet room. With a nod, she says, "Of course I meant it. I don't lie, Lysander."

That's all it takes.

With a sigh, he closes the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers and wrapping his arms around her as gently as possible, as not to harm her. She responds immediately, trying to move closer to him without hurting herself.

Once he finally pulls away, he stares at her. "I love you."

"I love you too," She whispers, still trying to catch her breath. "I can't wait until I'm out of this darn hospital bed so we're not, ahem, limited."

He laughs. "Molly, you're amazing, just so you know."

"Sappy time is over," One of the Healers announces as he walks in, tapping his scroll with a quill. "Shoo, you annoying boyfriend. This girl needs her daily checkup."

Laughing at Lysander's expression, she tells him, "Well, I suppose that's your cue to leave, Lysander."

"I suppose it is," He grins at her, leaning over to kiss her cheek and sticking his tongue out at the doctor. "See you!" He calls as he skips out the door.

She watches him with a grin on her face and thinks that, other than the Lucy part, life just might be a fairytale again.


It's a few days after she's let out of the hospital that Lucy pulls her aside to talk to her.

"Molly, I sort of need to talk to you about something," Lucy asks, fidgeting a bit, before lifting her eyes to meet Molly's. "Do you ever think about… about dying?"

"Dying?" Molly's eyebrow shoots up. "Sure I have, like when I was sure I was going to die on that boat, I considered what would happen to me, but I don't think about it on a regular basis. Why? Something wrong, Lucy?"

"Do you ever, well, want to die?" Lucy asks, biting her lip and looking up at Molly.

Molly's eyes widen. "Lucy, no. Please don't tell me you're considering committing suicide…"

"No, I'm not," She says with a sigh. "I just keep having this feeling that I'm going to die soon and, well, I'm not too upset about it."

"Why?" Molly demands, her fiery temper firing up. "Why does that not upset you? Most people would be freaking out at even the slightest sign that they might die, and you're happy about it?"

"Not happy, exactly," She cringes, "just not sad. And I know- well, I think I know- what's going to happen to me after death. I'll get to go see Edmund again."

"Lucy, what are you talking about? That's insane, you can't possibly believe that," Molly protests, her blue-green eyes wide as she stares at her sister. "You want to die so that you can see Edmund again? How do you know that he'll be there when you die?"

"Sometimes, when magical people die, they go to Narnia," Lucy explains quietly.

"That doesn't make any sense, Lucy," Molly argues.

"Does it not?" Lucy raises an eyebrow dubiously at her sister. "Really now, Molly? How else do you think you got to Narnia?"

That's when it hits her like a bag of bricks slamming her in the face.

She'd died. It wasn't a huge surprise, as she'd considered as much, but still. She had actually died when she'd been lying there on the shore of the island that Lysander had located on. And in her death, she'd gone to Narnia. That was what had triggered the trip to Narnia- not her belief in the place, not anything else, just the fact that she'd actually died.

Her jaw drops as she stares at her sister. Thing was, she'd never figured this out before then, and she doesn't know how.

"I was dead?" She asks, nearly speechless. "I was dead when I went to Narnia?"

Lucy shrugs and nods solemnly. "You died, Molly, that's how you got there. Anyway, I'm just warning you- don't be surprised if word comes that I've died. Or don't believe me if you don't want to. I'm not doing that well in Divination."

Lucy walks away, looking sad, and Molly just stares after her again.


One warm day, they're at the park, Lysander and Molly, having an overall good day. That is, until Lorcan shows up there without warning. Tears are streaming down his face.

"Lorcan," Lysander says urgently, grabbing his brother's shoulder. "Lorcan, what's wrong?"

"It's Lucy, isn't it?" Molly asks, even more urgently, feeling the urge to cry herself. "Oh no. Oh no." She repeats it over and over again. "It can't be… it just can't…."

"She's gone," Lorcan mutters, and then her whole life falls apart. "My fault. Car accident. She protected… me. I'm an idiot."

She'd done it. Lucy had been right, she was going to die, and for a good purpose too. Tears start to trickle down her face as she realises that she's never going to see her little sister again, never going to hear her laugh or dream or give her inspiration for her stories. She cries as she realises that she's now an only child. She cries even more at the fact that she never got to apologise for whatever she'd been doing with Edmund.

Turning to Lysander, he wraps his arms around her, and she cries into his chest as he strokes her back. She notices that Lorcan looks just as sad and awkward, so she gives him a quick hug before turning back to Lysander. "This is so messed up," She whispers, leaning into his chest.

It's not a fairytale. People don't die in fairytales, do they?


Her funeral is the most beautiful thing Molly's only seen, if only it weren't so depressing.

She stands in the back, unwilling to be anywhere near Lucy's dead, cold, mangled body- she doesn't need those images in her mind. Lysander's arm is around her, for comfort rather than physical pleasure. Tears stream down her face, holding no release.

Across the aisle, she sees Lorcan with his hand in Lily's, Lily crying into his shoulder, and she nods. She can deal with it- if Lorcan has to get with someone eventually, after he's finally moved on from Lucy, she definitely approves of Lily.

After deciding she can't take much more of the half-cheerful, half-depressing stories about Lucy, she drags Lysander out there to get some fresh air. At least, that's what she whispers into his ear as she drags him out of the doors.

The colours paint the bright sky, and she wonders how it can be so cheerful on a day where her mascara is coming down her face in black chunks. Wiping under her eyes, she bends down in front of a pond. As she peers in, it ripples, and she swears she sees Lucy and Edmund standing there, hand in hand, both grinning from ear to ear.

She gasps and jumps back. When Lysander asks her what's wrong, she just shakes her head, and looks back into the pond, where all she can see is the faint ripples of the pond water.

They're there, she knows it, and at least they're happy.

She knows that Lucy has her happy ending, and now she sort of has hers.

And thankfully, she's not dreaming.


Dear Molly,

I miss you. We both do.

Edmund's sitting right here beside me in what's called New Narnia. Honestly, it's rather nice here, quite the great place to go after death. We both earnestly hope that you will join us here.

I wasn't writing to you to brag about how great it is here, though. I was writing to apologise. I shouldn't have gotten so angry with you just for being a friend to Edmund. That was what he needed at the time, and I'm sure we'll both be eternally grateful to you for that.

You were a great sister to me. Don't ever doubt that. I miss you like heck here. But I'm not going to wish for you to join me, because you'd have to die to join me here.

I hope you have a great life with Lysander, you two are perfect together. Say hi to Lorcan. Tell him that he's welcome to stay with Lily.

I love you lots, big sister.

Love, Lucy Weasley


But this is for Sid & Verity because they are my parent and foster parent and they are getting married so I am very excited for them and I love them verily much. And Sid takes credit for the whole drowning thing.