“And let’s put our hands together for the man of the hour!”

The room burst into cheering as Percy Weasley walked up to the podium in the ballroom of the Longbottom Estate, which had been volunteered to host the night’s events: the celebration of Percy’s appointment as Minister of Magic. The whole extended family, plus the crème de la crème of society and the entire Ministry staff.

Percy was the first new Minister of Magic in thirty years, so the occasion was a momentous one for the entire British wizard population. Not only was it a holiday, it was an opportunity for the population to thank Kingsley Shacklebolt for giving them his best, as well as to welcome his successor.

However, there was one face in the crowd that wasn’t smiling. Percy’s youngest daughter, sixteen-year-old Lucy had her eyes squeezed shut, and her breathing was laboured. No one else seemed to notice her due to the events at the podium. That was save for one person.

“Lucy, are you all right?” asked Louis, her cousin of the same age.

Shaking her head, Lucy said, “I… I can’t breathe in here.”

Louis frowned. “Come on. We’ll get you some tea.” Pulling her close to his side, he led her through the throng of party-goers and toward the kitchens in the back of the house. He knew they’d be empty when they passed a flock of white-clad men watching the ceremony from the perimeter, who were presumably the cooks.

And getting a break from the crowd was exactly what she needed. Lucy hated crowds of people and always had. Louis was impressed that she’d stuck it out this long, considering how crushing that phobia would get in heavily populated places.

Giving Louis a grateful smile, Lucy sat down at the table, her face buried in the crook of her elbow as he fished out a couple mugs and some teabags. “Fervens,” he muttered as he tapped his wand to each cup.

“You’re not allowed to do that,” she said, her voice muffled.

Louis scoffed as he dropped in the tea and carried the mugs over to the table. “So let them lock me in Azkaban for making tea.” He pushed one of the drinks toward her. “It’ll make you feel better.” His theory was correct in that regard as she deeply inhaled the vapours from the tea, a smile curling its way upward. “Told you.”

From there, a comfortable silence fell between them, and Louis knew he’d made the right decision to get her out of the mob in the ballroom. She’d wanted to be there for her dad, and she’d given it her best, but Lucy got the shakes when she was in Diagon Alley on a busy day; twice that number of people were there for the Ministry fete.

His mind didn’t linger on her enochlophobia for long, though. As it was every time they were alone, Louis found his mind drifting toward another day, when the company was the same as it was right then: just the two of them.

The sun shone down on the orchard at the Burrow, and along its outskirts sat two teenagers. They shared a low-sitting tree limb as a seat, their feet swinging back and forth out of old habit. The boy reached up above him and plucked one of the ripe apples from its branch, one of the rose-red Pink Lady apples that Nana Weasley loved to grow. With a hesitant smile, he handed the apple to the girl with whom he was sharing his perch.

“For you, madame,” he said. Adding in mock dramatic fashion, he said, “Though its sweetness pales in comparison to your own.”

Giggling, the girl took the apple and playfully punched her companion in the arm. “Shut it, you!” Giving him a sideways glare, she took a large bite of the apple. Some of its ample juice escaped her mouth, which she darted her tongue out to catch.

The boy’s heart skipped a beat when he saw this. She had always been pretty to him, especially when the sunlight caught the almost burgundy highlights in her chestnut-coloured hair, but it wasn’t just that. But as she polished off the apple, he couldn’t help but contemplate the way her eyes sparkled when she was laughing, the way her brow furrowed when she was thinking, the lustrous rouge of her lips…

His mind no longer in control of his actions, the boy drew her moist, fruit-sweetened mouth to his. At first she was surprised, but soon, she tentatively joined him in the tender embrace of untried lips and innocent hands…

Banishing the thought from his head before he got any more uncomfortable than he already was, Louis mumbled, “I need to, um, pop to the loo. Be back in a bit.” He hardly noticed her brief glance of acknowledgement before he practically ran from the room. Though he had no need whatsoever to relieve himself biologically, an acquittal from his own errant brain was in order. There had been a fierce bond between him and Lucy since they had been children, and even more so when their other cousins and siblings moved on in different directions. No matter what, they seemed to be indelibly linked to one another.

And he had changed that dynamic between them that day. That one perfect, beautiful, stupid day… With a grunt, Louis turned on the tap and splashed his face with cold water, hoping to shock himself out of this dangerous line of thought. He knew what the family would say, what they would think, if any of them were to find out how he felt about Lucy. He knew the genetic ramifications of it if, for some reason, they were ever to have children. Plus, with Lucy’s condition, the idea of it was even more inadvisable. All in all, he could think of more reasons that being in love with his own cousin was all wrong than he could in their favour, yet none of the former seemed to permeate his wretched head.

The sound of glass shattering down the hall made him jump before he realised that he was in a building full of drunk people, so a few cups being dropped was virtually inevitable. He breathed deeply, trying to shut out thoughts of Lucy that were anything but platonic before he headed back to the kitchen.

Louis first noticed that the door was agape and dangling awkwardly on its hinges, quite a few of its window panes cracked or spilt out onto the floor. The spray of glass was adorned by a smattering of small, sapphire-coloured pearls — the same ones from the necklace that had been draped around Lucy’s neck when he’d gone to the bathroom. He would’ve known them anywhere, considering he’d brought them back from a family trip to France to give her on her sixteenth birthday. But that twinkling blue, so very similar to her eyes, only mocked him as they formed a sordid trail leading from the table where their still-warm mugs of tea sat without owners.

First it was disbelief that overcame him before panic set in. Everything inside of him railed at the very concept of what his brain told him he was seeing. Almost frantically, he posited every possible scenario that could cause a broken window and a snapped necklace that could end with Lucy being okay and cursed out loud when he couldn’t think of one. There was only once answer.

Lucy was gone.