prompts: melioration, daisy chains, elephant, & illuminate
"happiness depends upon ourselves."
sitting under a large oak tree on the grounds of hogwarts, fifteen year old lucy loses herself in her book. she doesn't even notice him until he's standing right over her, staring down at her with those blueblue eyes of his.
"hi," he grins. "may i sit?"
and that's her first mistake.
they become good friends, but as the months go by, she finds herself wanting much more than a friendship with him. lysander is an enigma — he's got all these deep, dark secrets, and she's starting to become enthralled in him.
she needs to know his secrets; needs to know him.
even if it kills her.
the moonlight illuminates her face as they sit side-by-side on top of the astronomy tower. "what's your favourite animal?" she asks suddenly, turning on him. that urge to know every detail of his life is back, and stronger now.
"elephants," he grins and she furrows her eyebrows. she always saw him as more of a dog person. "they're large and strong," he explains. "they can knock down trees and stampede over anything that gets in their way. what about you?"
lucy smiles. "i like elephants, too."
it's a lie. but there's something about him; something that makes her want to be sure to get every question exactly right, even if it means lying to him and to herself.
and when lysander flashes a white smile that's all hers, she doesn't regret it.
lucy finds herself lying more and more about herself and her life as the weeks go by. it's like she opened a floodgate - now she can't stop the lies from tumbling out. she doesn't mind though, because if lysander likes her, then that's all that matters. right?
she's not so sure about that anymore.
he's walking her back to the hufflepuff common room after dinner, when suddenly he presses her to the cold stone wall. it's out of no where, but she doesn't have time to ponder this, because his lips are on hers.
any doubts she has about the lies are gone the second he presses his lips to hers.
her hands tangle up in his hair and his rest on her waist. his kisses are rougher than she's used to, but then again she's only ever been kissed twice before. maybe this is how first kisses are suppose to be? rough, quick, with his hands trying to wander?
she pulls away, grabbing his hands before they can reach the buttons of her jeans. "what are you doing?" she asks, eyes wide.
he gets mad.
"you were practically begging, and now you're asking what i'm doing?" it's a rhetorical question, so she doesn't answer. instead, she shrinks back against the wall. suddenly, mysterious and dangerous isn't as attractive as she originally found it to be.
he turns and walks away without another word or a backwards glance.
she sleeps with him a week later.
not because it's what she wants, but because he wants her to, and she thinks maybe she loves him, so it's an obligation.
it's not at all like she imagined it — he doesn't whisper words of love, doesn't even bother lying to her. instead he tells her what to do and how to move and where to touch him, and when it's over she just wants to cry.
she doesn't cry. she picks her clothes up off his dorm floor and leaves without a word, feeling dirty and used.
it's not until later — three months to be exact — that she realizes what he's done to her. she's in her sixth year now, and he's a seventh year, and she decides to surprise him with a picnic.
but lorcan scamander, his twin brother, the slytherin to lysander's ravenclaw, stops her in her tracks with three words.
"he's playing you."
she turns and glares at him, ready to tell him how he doesn't know anything and ask him why he's trying to ruin a good relationship, when she sees his eyes. he's actually sympathizing her.
he stands up straight, off the wall he was leaning on, and moves towards her. "have you found yourself trying to be...not yourself, when you're around him?"
she nods wordlessly, because it's true.
he flashes her a bitter smile and flicks his blonde fringe from his eyes.
"melioration, sweetheart," he says, and then he's gone and she's left there stunned and slightly confused as to what he even meant.
she goes to look for lysander, but he's no where to be found.
that is, until she runs right into him and, surprise, surprise, dahlia smith. and oh look, they're hold hands.
lorcan was right.
she turns and walks away without a word, feeling empty and used, but most shockingly of all she just feels relieved.
when she was younger, lucy used to think that happiness was the product of those around you—if you were surrounded by people that made you happy and loved you, then you'd be happy.
but then she grew up and quit making daisy chains.
and when she looked around the world after finally opening her eyes, she realized you can't depend on others to keep you happy.
especially when they do a horrid job at it.