Sunsets, Seashells, and Starry Nights

As you push it up through the soil, I'll shake your filthy hand
You may be dead to me but that don't mean we can't be friends
Now it's time to get over this, long as it's clear you understand
That I will never trust a single thing you say again
Fallen Man, Relient K


Everywhere you go, your dad tells you, there's always going to be conflict somehow.

He tells you stories of wars, death, and violence, and tries to pretend that he's preparing you for something somehow though you know that it's all a ploy.

But in your life, it feels like there's one big conflict. It isn't a war, nor is it a petty girl fight. It's not a breakup gone wrong. It's plain and simple- you, Molly Weasley II, versus the world. Because no matter what you do, the world is always against you.

You refuse to fall in love, because surely the world will be against you in that too.


Some days, you just wish you could do something important. You wish you could just lie around and count the stars, number them off one by one, until finally you have a number and everything will make sense then, you think.

But it turns out that counting stars is just a metaphor for figuring out life.

Mainly about figuring out him.

There's only one boy that could even sort of get past your defenses. The sea sparkles in his bright blue eyes, his shaggy brown hair falls into his face, and if anyone could ever make you swoon on your feet, it would be him.

But that's all he is anyway- a pretty boy, nothing more. He's just a nice look, a crooked smile, and he doesn't affect you in the least, anyway.

Because you swore you'd never fall in love, remember?

You have to remember.

You're not going to let yourself fall again.

Even though you're a writer and you scribble out tales of girls and boys who meet and fall in love, you don't believe in love. You've seen too many love stories that just seem to fall apart. Even though your parents are still together, they're not lovey dovey like Rose's parents or Albus' parents, and you have a feeling that they're still together only to save their {damaged} reputations.

So how could a writer girl like you who doesn't believe in love ever get a happy ending with a happy-go-lucky [idiot] boy who doesn't really try for love?

You won't get your happy ending with him, that's for sure.

So why even try?

You're sitting on a bench, pencil tucked behind your ear, glancing up at the blue sky and feeling inspiration streaming from it like water from a waterfall. With a smile up at the sky, you determine that today is going to be a good day.

That is, until Lysander Scamander sits beside you, brushing a piece of brown hair off of his forehead and smiling at you. "Molly. It's so good to see you here, it's been a while."

With a nearly audible gulp, you stare at his hair and his eyes and his newly developed muscles. But no, you remind yourself, this isn't what you're here for, to break your own promises. Dragging your eyes up to meet his, you tell him with a frown, "I can't imagine why. Yes, it has been a while. Hello, Scamander."

"That's some mixed up order you've got going on there," He laughs, and as he adjusts his position on the bench to face you, his shoulder brushes yours.

The thoughts running through your head are much too inappropriate [and wait, no, you don't like him!] so you scoot back unconsciously. "I'm a writer, Lysander; we do things out of order."

"Makes you unique," He jokes, grinning at you.

"Anyway, where's your darling Lily?" Your tone is biting.

"What do you mean? She's around, doing whatever she wants to do, and she's not mine, anyway. She's Nott's," He laughs, but his voice sounds a bit forlorn, as if he's lost something valuable.

"Look, Scamander, if you think you can just screw Lily over and then come crawling back to me-" You begin to say, but he cuts you off.

"Molly, I don't know what's up with your conspiracy theories, but I'm not screwing Lily over and I only just wanted to talk to you," He bites his lip as he stares at you, at your red curls and bright blue-green eyes. "Look, I…" He trails off before looking down at your hand and back up at your face. "I just wanted to see you. I miss you, Molly."

I miss you. His words hang in the air between you, but no, they're not true, they can't be, he's just some sort of wannabe playboy and you're a writer girl. The two of you are not even meant to be friends, much less something more.

But he winds his fingers through yours and shoots you a quick smile.

You think that maybe you can find it in you to consider love again.

The day he asks you out, the sun is streaking brightly across the sky, casting patterns on the glittery green grass. You're lying on it, stretched out, watching the clouds and imagining what each of them could represent, what story each of them could tell. Notebook splayed across your lap, you scribble on the pages, writing down any idea that pops into your head. These ideas you can develop into stories later. And maybe one of them could even become a novel.

Suddenly, the grass crunches beside you, and you turn to see Lysander Scamander, standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking like some sort of male supermodel even if he doesn't even try. You sit up immediately, shoving the notepad off of your lap and grinning. "Oh, hi, there, Lysander."

"What's that?" He asks, sitting down beside you without even so much as asking for your permission. "Writing again, are you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am," You glare and close the notebook quickly, not wanting him to see your ideas.

"Look, Molly, are you going to act all defensive again? Because I can leave…" He stands up halfway, signaling that it's your decision.

With a sigh, you shake your head. "No, you can stay, I mean, I'll stop." You offer him a half smile.

He sits down with a laugh. "Well, now that I'm here, what do you reckon we do?" His eyes meet yours and you feel that same thrill run through you and this, oh, this is bliss.

But you can't let yourself fall in too deep, especially not with him, because all he's going to do is break your heart into a million tiny pieces. You've seen him with girls, with your friends- he probably did the same with all of them, didn't he? And they'd ended up in his trap.

You don't believe in love, especially not with him.

But you let him wrap his arm around you anyway, and pull your head onto his chest. Later on, you even let him plant a small kiss on your lips.

But it's nothing, really, it's nothing.

He is nothing to you, and he will not ever- he will never- hurt you if he is nothing to you.

(even though when he asks you out, you say yes)


That summer, he goes away to hunt for Nargles in some faraway land with his mum. You can't help but feel a little bit jealous- the farthest away you've ever gone is France to stay with a semi- distant relation of yours with Dominique.

And not only jealous of that- you're entirely convinced that there's some girl down there that he is going to meet and fall in love with. Then it'll be all bye bye Molly and hello, random foreign girl!

So that year, your entire summer is spent living in his letters.

Dear Molly,

I know its only been a week. but I miss you.

Yes, I did just admit I miss you. And I am writing, see, only for you, but dont blame me if I get grammer wrong. My teachers always say im gonna fail english.

Oh well, u can make up for that!

Because your sort of an epic writer!

Love from Lysander

Dear Lysander,

You do realise that you could get Lorcan to look over orbetter yet, write (you dictate) the letters.

Because your spelling and grammar is a bit horrible. But I don't mind anyway, because you hardly ever write and it's sort of an honour that you're writing to me.

I miss you too. How is it in your faraway land?

And thanks. I pride myself on my writing skills. Kidding, kidding.


Dear Molly,

I asked Lorcan to write what I dictate. He agreed, because he's just epic like that, you know.

Anyway, how is, well, your home? Your family? Are your parents treating you all right or all they favouring Lucy again?

Bulgaria really isn't that far away. Our parents took us to go see the school here, you know, Durmstrang, but it seems sort of like a training camp for followers of evil overlords to me. No way would I ever go there.

I miss you. Lots and lots. And don't worry, it's not as if I would even consider the girls here, they're all big and burly and stuff.

I prefer you any day.

Love from Lysander

You read over the last lines, over and over again, trying to make the words influence your way of thinking- it's not as if I would even consider the girls here, I prefer you- but as many times as you repeat them they don't seem to sink in.

You're entirely too convinced that the world's still against you and he's cheating on you with some pretty foreign girl.

One day, along with one of his letters, he attaches a seashell. It gleams in the sunlight and somehow it reminds you of him, because he shines even when he doesn't mean to.

With a grin, you place it on your bedside table, watching as it wobbles (but it doesn't fall off and shatter on the floor, thank goodness). It's like he's there with you once again.

Besides, the seashell makes you feel special because you are the one receiving presents from Lysander. That has to mean that he's thinking about you, right?

That also has to mean that he knows you, that he knows you like seashells and the way that the ocean sounds in your ear. He has to know how she loves the shimmery shells. These are all signs of a good relationship, right? A strong one, not one where the boyfriend cheats….

You don't even know.


But life is against you, you find that out soon enough.

Your downfall starts when Lucy invites you all to a swimming party for her fourteenth birthday. Of course, you decide to attend, it's not like you would miss a party, and it'll be the first time you've seen Lysander in ages. So you RSVP and all of that, saying that of course you'll go, after all, it is your sister.

So you show up in your pretty little swimsuit and coverup. Like the hidden romantic that you are, you dream of a reunion where he spins you around in his arms and kisses you like you're the only girl in the world.

But the world is against you, darling.

Once you catch sight of his signature brown hair (longer than Lorcan's) and his signature blue shirt (it matches his eyes), you fling yourself out him, squealing about how you've missed him. But rather than pulling you into his usual bear hug, he hugs you sort of awkwardly, and he doesn't say anything. Confused, you pull back.

That's when you see her.

She's got an annoyed expression on her face, shiny blue eyes, perfect brown hair, and creamy skin. At the moment, she doesn't look too happy with you and you can't imagine why- you're his girlfriend, after all, it's to be expected. Unless, of course, Lysander conveniently forgot to mention that he has a girlfriend…

With a frown, she says in an annoying tone, "Lysander, who is this?"

"Hi, Molly," He says awkwardly before turning to the girl. "Mari, this is my girlfriend, Molly. Molly, this is Merilyn. We, um, met on vacation and Lucy said I could bring her as my plus one…" He stares awkwardly between the two of them.

"You have a girlfriend, Lysander?" Merilyn gasps, placing a perfectly manicured hand to her glossed lips. "Oh, you never mentioned that! It's so nice to meet you, Molly."

Lysander grins, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly (as if you're supposed to get along with her or something), but she's fake and you see that immediately. "Nice to know," you say icily. "So glad to meet you, Merilyn."

She smiles obliviously, giving you a clue that she's sort of clueless in that bimbo sort of way. But Lysander sees right through you and frowns. "Something wrong, Molly?"

"No," you reply, "Nothing. Have fun with darling Mari. I'm going to find Lorcan."

He opens his mouth as if he's going to say something, but no, you can't have that, so you take off running until a similar flash of brown hair catches your eye. Grabbing the boy's sleeve, you whisper, "Lorcan."

He turns around as if he's going to say something, but when he sees you, his face breaks into a smile. "Molly, long time no see!" Pulling you into a hug, he finally notices the devastated expression on your face. "Something wrong…?" He gauges carefully.

"Lysander and that bimbo of his," You tell him in a shaky tone. "What is he doing with her, Lorcan? Why- why?" Your voice breaks.

Patting your back, he reassures you, "They're not dating, Molly. They're only friends, but I dunno, I think she might like him. Maybe you should just talk to him, try to figure things out?"

"I think I'll do that. Thanks Ly, you're epic," You tell him with a forlorn smile.

"Thanks," He laughs, "But I'm Lor, Lorcan, not Ly, Lysander. Can't get your mind off of him, can you?"

"No," You say with a frown. "No, I can't, but… Lorcan, can I stay with you for today? It's just that… I can't seem to face Lysander. I just can't."

"Well, I'll be hanging out with Lucy for a bit of the day, but you're welcome to stay with the two of us," Lorcan offers with a grin.

You nod and think that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to turn out all right.


At the end of the party, you finally get the nerve to talk to Lysander.

"Lysander?" You ask, biting your lip. "Can I talk to you, well, alone?" You cast a meaningful glance at her, at Merilyn, biting your lip.

"Of course," He says, smiling at you and standing up. "What's going on, Molly?"

"You're not, well, going to break up with me for Merilyn… are you?" You bite your lip. Insecure, you reprimand yourself, but it doesn't matter because Lysander has seen both the good and the bad side of you. He's been there, always, always, and you're not going to doubt that because of some {mistake}.

He stares at you before he laughs. He actually laughs, causing you to scowl, but before you can yell at him or anything like that, he asks, "You honestly believe I would do that? You believe that I would break up with you because I meet some, um, random girl while I'm on vacation? I'm not the summer affair type of boy, Molly, honestly, and besides,…." He turns to you, smiling, "I love you."

It's the first time anyone's really said that to you, and it takes you by surprise, because no, you don't believe in love. You can't let yourself fall in too deep because of course he's going to hurt you. But for once, you find yourself forgetting the repercussions and saying, "I love you too."

Then, just like in all of the stories that you write, he leans in and kisses you. Obviously he's forgotten about Merilyn, who's probably still standing there like the idiot that she is, but for a moment you do too.

And you think that maybe this will be your Patronus memory.


September comes and the school year really, truly starts. Everything seems perfect- the two of you are Molly and Lysander, never one without the other, the Silver Couple. It's perfect, but as you learn, perfection never lasts. It's always changing, always conforming, always breaking.

It's that one fateful day when you are bored and you decide that you want to talk to Lysander or something. So you begin to comb the castle, looking for him.

You run into your sister and Lorcan. Enviously, you stare at their entwined hands and perfect, perfect smiles before you ask, "Have you seen Lysander?"

They exchange a glance, a guilty glance, before Lucy turns to you and says in a concerned tone, "I saw him before, but he was with Mari… Merilyn…."

"Where?" You demand, not in the mood to play around.

"They were in the Great Hall, but they left there, they can't have gone far," Lorcan tells you with a frown. "Molly, I…"

"Save it," You hiss, before you run off, completely determined to find Lysander and give him a piece of your mind for ditching you for Merilyn.

That is, until you run down the corridor by the Great Hall and you come upon two people snogging.

Those two people being Lysander and Merilyn.

Quickly, once Lysander's eyes fall upon you, he pushes Merilyn away and his eyes widen. "Oh Merlin. Oh, Molly, this isn't what it looks like."

"I'm sure it isn't," You say coolly. "It's not like you're always ditching me for her and then I find the two of you snogging in a corridor. No, Lysander, it's exactly what it looks like, and guess what, we're over."

With a frown, you turn around and storm off, feeling his eyes on you and ignoring them.


That night, the seashell falls off your bedside table and shatters into a thousand pieces.

You laugh at the symbolism.

You're drowning. You're drowning in the tears that keep on falling from your eyes and you don't know why because he's an idiot, a freaking idiot, and you never should have trusted him in the first place.

Music starts playing from the corner, creating a symphony with notes that feel melancholy even if they're not. You turn around to yell at the person when you realise that it's your cousin Dominique. Sobbing, you bury your head in her shoulder. "Dom. He- he- Merilyn- cheat…" Even though you can't form a coherent sentence, the words are enough to explain the situation.

She hugs you tight and rubs your back and assures you that everything is going to be all right even if it won't be.

It's October and you remember September when everything was perfect.

But one thing that Dominique says when she comforts you sticks with you.

She says that there's hope for every fallen man. And even though you're surely not a man, you're definitely fallen, and do you have hope?

Hopefully you do.

Maybe, just maybe, there's hope for every broken girl. Including you, the one who's been disappointed by the world so many times that it's not even funny.

The only other thing that sticks with you is that you're going to have to forgive him eventually.

It's not something typical of you- you tend to hold grudges like the stubborn Gryffindor that you are- but this is Lysander and you can't hate him for the rest of your life.


One day, he comes up to you, holding out his hands as if to defend himself from your wrath. It's true that you're still angry with him, but not as much as before. You're definitely not going to hurt him or anything.

"Hey, Molly," He greets you. "I need to talk to you, don't I? Explain."

Nodding, you say yes because you have to hear him out at some point and now's a good a time as ever, right? "Though I don't know what all there is to explain."

"First, I was only friends with her. Only friends and nothing more. I was helping her out because she had an eating disorder but these days I'm not sure if that's true or not. Anyway, she kissed me, and wouldn't let me go, and that's how you found us. Me trying to get away, her trying to eat my face or something," He laughs, running a hand through his hair and looking at you.

You don't know how to feel. You've assumed for the past few months that he's a complete idiot, that he's not to be trusted, when in reality he was only helping out a friend with a problem.

But then again, he hurt you, and he hurt you bad, and you don't know how to feel about that either.

With a frown, you shake your head. "Lysander, there's still the fact that you hurt me."

"I'm an idiot, I know," He says with a forlorn frown.

"Look, you're not an idiot, and certainly not as much as I thought you were," You inform him with a half smile. "Just give it a month or two, okay, and we'll see how we both feel about this then."

He nods. With a soft smile at him, you walk away, shoving your hands into your pockets, thinking about how much of an idiot you are.

Maybe that's what makes you and Lysander sort of perfect together.


It's been a month and you're sitting on a hillside, watching the sunset, trying to convince yourself that you're not as rubbish as you think you are.

It's then that footsteps once again announce the arrival of one Lysander Scamander.

"Molly," He sits down beside you with a smile. "It's been a month."

"I know," You turn to face him, and your heart skips at beat at the sight of his blue eyes and brown hair. It's just him, he makes you lose your breath and all of that other cliché stuff. It's sort of obvious now, if it wasn't before. You're in love with him, still, even though he hurt you. "I know that you really didn't do anything, now, and I was just being immature. So I've let myself let go of that idiot image of you. I just… I have really bad trust issues, and I don't believe in love, so…"

"You don't believe that I love you?" He asks, his blue eyes wide. "You don't believe that you love me?"

"Not really," You sigh with a frown.

He opens his arms, hugging you tightly against his chest. "I love you, Molly, don't doubt that."

Then he kisses you like you've never been kissed before, just like in those novels that you write, and you start to believe in happy endings again.

Even though he's Lysander and you're Molly, maybe, just maybe, you can manage to work things out. Maybe the world won't be against you for once.

(and maybe love does exist, in the weirdest of places.)

Another day, when you're dating again and everything's finally all happy and cheerful, he comes to you, cradling something behind your back.

"I hope you don't mind," he says, looking down at the ground, "but Rose found this in your dorm, shattered on the floor, and she gave it back to me. So I repaired it for you." From behind his back, he pulls out the seashell that he'd given you before.

"Oh, Lysander," You reply, feeling happy for the first time in a while. "I'd been missing this. The bedside table seems oddly empty without it. Thanks a lot."

So the seashell returns back to its rightful place on your bedside table and you laugh once again at the symbolism.


Even those with the world against them can find true love, you know.

A/N: So, I've written fourteen Molly/Lysander stories. That's insane. No wonder they're my OTP, lol.

Anyway, I hope you liked this! It was meant to be a short diverge into second person but it didn't really work that way. Whoops?

This is dedicated to my Mollysander/LucyLorcan sextuplets once again. Because I love you guys and it's been a while since we've all been on together, right? I miss that, and I'm feeling sentimental, sooo:

Zhie, Listen, Rose, Amy, Sid. I love you guys lots. =D

And to Rachel, for her amyzhieing prompts. Hope this reminds you of why you like Mollysander (and not Lilysander)!

Sorry that this was so terrible. It's my first time writing second person.