notes: i'm in a weird mood. i should be working on VIOLET SKY but it's just not coming, so this is here instead.
warning: this story includes non-capitalisation, depression and cousincest.
disclaimer: i don't own harry potter, which is jkr's, or we are the battery human, which is stornoway's.
dedication: also, this can be for middy (keep my issues drawn), because she loves this pairing and she's great. and, mid, sorry for ignoring your hyphen advice ;)


don't step on the cracks
and we'll hibernate all year / under a pile of A4 snowflakes
we are the battery human – stornoway


we aren't built to be academic or sensible or hard-working, because we're weasleys and how we work is different.

ϟ

"i miss you," he says, but it doesn't mean anything, nothing at all. you look straight ahead, hands on the wheel.

it's snowing. that makes you feel slightly sad. you used to love snow – the white swirls falling from the heavens, soft and silent, making you believe a little bit more in magic. but you're older now, and you're lucy weasley and you do not believe in magic anymore.

you're on the A4. it would be a whole lot easier to escape if he'd get out of the bloody car, because you're trying to escape from him, honestly, and he doesn't understand and he never has.

it's so much harder to pretend that you don't care, now. you're used to being heartless, because you're lucy weasley and you're a battery human. actually, wait – no, you're not, because there's no way you can actually be human. it sounds heartless and harsh, but that's you all over. you aren't human and you don't want to be.

(but now you're tired and sad and scared and confused and possibly-not-at-all in love and scared.)

ϟ

you could, quite honestly, hibernate all year. you'd wake up next year – actually, maybe a year and a week; you hate christmas – so, you'd wake up next year and a week, and maybe people would just be like, hey, lucy, guess what we did while you were gone?

yeah. sleeping could be good.

everyone imagines you as some creative, imaginative, hufflepuff little girl whose head is in the clouds and whose heart is with lorcan. but that's not true, is it? because you're slytherin and you're bored and you're possibly-not-at-all in love with your cousin.

why is everything so confusing? why can't you just go to sleep?

ϟ

the A4 is longer than you'd thought. (all you want is to keep driving, driving until you run out of petrol and you have to stop and maybe cause an accident and the muggle police get involved and you'll tell them my name is lucy weasley and i don't believe in magic and i'm scared.)

"you don't have to be alone, lucy," he says. would he just shut up? of course you have to be alone. you're lucy and what if this is contagious, what if you give it to somebody? no, you have to stay alone alone alone forever amen. (you don't believe in god, either. no god, no magic.)

a strand of hair falls into your eyes and you remember everything with stunning clarity, for a moment. your hair is black, black black black like your heart, when it should be blonde. that's why you're running (driving). because your hair is black and louis kissed you as you cried and you're possibly-not-at-all in love with him and you're running running running as fast as you can, he can't catch you because you're the gingerbread woman – small, inconsequential, weasley, little lucy who doesn't believe in magic because she's going to get eaten up by the world one day and that scares you.

"yes, i do," you tell him. it's quiet and it's broken, but he's heard.

ϟ

thinking about it, you don't know where you're going. to the end of the A4, you suppose.

ϟ

he made you get out of the car, which wasn't part of the plan WHY DOES HE SCREW EVERYTHING UP?

you walk, you walk because you have nothing anymore and he's asked you not to go anywhere so why not walk?

he was stupid to leave you alone, because you're lucy weasley and you're scared. what were you going to do? obviously, you'd run. but you see him now, he's caught onto your game – he's holding onto a packet of cigarettes. (cheater, cheater, he doesn't even make them himself.) he can see you, too, and he's obviously coming for you.

"please don't step on the cracks—" you say, before you can help yourself. too late, he's already done it. ruined another game. (but didn't he step on the cracks a long time ago? he stepped on the cracks of your exterior and widened them and damn it, shouldn't he pay for what he broke?)

you don't believe in magic but you're still superstitious because of your goddamned mother, your bloody mother who can't keep her mouth open or an umbrella open inside.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," he says as the tears stream down your face, black waterfalls on chalk pretences.

"no, you're not," you say, and it comes out too venomously. oh dear. (you're not really that sorry at all.)

ϟ

"i don't believe in magic, louis."

you don't believe in magic and he doesn't believe in you. what an interesting pair.

ϟ

"i don't miss you," you say, but it doesn't mean anything, nothing at all. you look straight ahead, hands on the wheel.

it's snowing. that makes you feel very sad. you used to love snow – the white swirls falling from the heavens, soft and silent, making you believe a little bit more in magic. but you're older now, and you're lucy weasley and you do not believe in magic anymore.

you're on the A4. it's a whole lot easier to escape now that he's got out of the car.

it's so much harder to pretend that you don't care, now. you're a battery lucy and you don't believe in magic or god or louis and you're possibly-not-at-all in love with your cousin, so you're going to keep driving, driving until you run out of petrol and you have to stop and maybe cause an accident and the muggle police get involved and you'll tell them my name is lucy weasley and i don't believe in magic and i'm a battery-run operation.

(but now you're tired and sad and scared and confused and possibly-not-at-all in love and scared.)


notes: thank you for reading. please review, and please do not favourite/alert without reviewing.