Harry Potter the night before the morning

_A/N: This is my audition piece for__ The fanfiction F A C T O R competition__ at the __HPFC__.  
I've used the prompts for the 29__th__ July of the __Prompts, oh, Prompts__ thread at the __NGF__s: _**a long wait, hero, amazingly insane or insanely amazing, reverse**. _Many thanks to mew (__mew-tsubaki__) for betareading!_

* * *

**the night before the morning**

They sat next to each other on the pebbled beach, closer than they'd ever been before, but neither of them noticed. Everything was bathed in a golden light from the sun that was about to go down, and Rose's wild curls looked as though they were on fire.

Lorcan tried his hardest not to think of how they were sending beams into his eyes and capturing his gaze with their every sway. Instead he spoke, his voice hoarse thanks to them being silent together for so long. "What will you do now?"

She turned over and opened her mouth but closed it again, and suddenly Lorcan realized how much he was going to miss her next year. Not that he hadn't known that before, but he now had come to understand he would hardly be able to stand it when she wasn't going to be there.

Couldn't he have figured this out a bit earlier? She was about to slip out of his grasp now—and he hadn't even _had _her in his grasp yet. She had always moved too fast for him to realize that she maybe meant more than he thought—more than a safe rock for him, more than a friend, no matter how much he valued her for that, as well.

"I don't know," she finally said. "Me and Scorp are planning on travelling," she said slowly and gave Lorcan a long, unfathomable look. He cringed inwardly as he heard "Scorp." It was always him, wasn't it? Rose and Scorpius would always be Rose&Scorpius and it didn't really matter that they were only friends because it was Scorpius and not Lorcan who was the closest to Rose.

He nodded after a while. "You know, I'll miss you," he said tentatively and when she looked straight at him, her lips slightly parted, all his walls were suddenly gone, everything about Scorpius was gone, and Lorcan simply didn't care any longer. Because this was his only chance and he had to take it and _oh Merlin! _She tasted so sweet; it was the softest touch.

Lorcan thought he now knew how pure gold tasted—just like this. Exactly like Rose, and it was the best flavor in the world.

But as just as fast, it was gone, and everything that had once been normal, tasteless, now burned on his tongue like acid and made him want to gag.

She stood up, breathing heavily. "Lorc, this doesn't make any sense." She shook her head and Lorcan's gaze followed her curls' bouncing. Of course she would say that, of course it had to be logical, because she was Rose and that was what he loved about her.

(It didn't matter that a part of him wanted her to be more reckless because she wouldn't be Rose then.)

She walked away after a quiet "It's too late to begin now," and Lorcan hadn't even begun formulating the words that floated through his mind—those words about how it _could_ be logical, how they could make it make sense, how they could at least try.

* * *

He remembered the first time he had seen her. Or maybe it wasn't the first time, but he would like to think of it as the first time, because that made it more perfect.

She had been golden then, as well, he realized now.

The Great Hall had been filled with candles, and Lorcan had never seen anything more beautiful. It glittered from everywhere, and he stood with the other first years, so amazed that he didn't hear a word of the Sorting Hat's song.

Thankfully his name was called before Lysander's so his brother could give him a push, because not even McGonagall's calling could penetrate his stunned condition.

When the hat was placed upon his head, though, he could feel himself waking up, thanks to its dark interior. It took almost no time at all until the hat finished debating with itself and decided to place him in Ravenclaw.

It was then that he noticed her. The first thing he saw when the hat was lifted from his head. The red-haired girl, whose hair shone like a golden comet, the girl whose piercing eyes cast a glance at him, then at the blonde boy next to her, and then she giggled.

He remembered it all so clearly, how she had sparkled as if she was covered in golden jewelry, but how it in fact was only the candles that caused her to shine so.

* * *

"So, how's your final year going?" Rose asked and gave Lorcan a bit of a strained smile. She looked so tired, more tired than she had looked when studying for her N.E.W.T.s and that was saying a lot.

"Fine, but, Rose, let's not talk about that," Lorcan answered quickly. "It's you who have been away for months, seeing the world, exploring things. How was it?"

Rose looked down at her hands that lay on the table, unmoving. The mug of coffee in front of her was just as still. "Yeah, well, it was good…I suppose."

"You suppose?" Lorcan furrowed his brow.

"I don't know," Rose straightened up in her chair, took a deep breath, and smiled. "Lorc, I should go." She rose from the chair and patted him on his arm. "Sorry for not staying longer, but thanks for asking me if I wanted to grab a coffee with you."

Lorcan's eyes were fastened on where her hand had lingered on his arm for just a little too long.

"We'll stay in touch, 'kay?" she asked, biting her lip.

Lorcan nodded, and then she turned around and walked out of the café, pulling her brown scarves with golden threads in tightly round her neck. She was gone. Again. And he hadn't even had the time to tell her all that he had wanted, all those things he had saved all year, savored for the moment when he would meet her again. She always moved too fast.

* * *

It was in his fourth year that they had started being close. And it was rather funny how it had all happened, because it was so silly, in a way. Because Rose was the Gryffindor with the brains of an eagle, and Lorcan was the Ravenclaw lacking said brains.

So he had been in the library, almost unable to keep his eyes open, half lying over a volume of Transfiguration History, trying to cram it all in, when she had passed him. He of course had noticed her immediately; he always did.

And, when she had taken a seat a little bit to the right of him, he had forgotten all of his tests the next day. Because, and wasn't it surprising, her hair had glowed like gold in the soft light of the torches in the library.

She of course had noticed his eyes drilling into her back and swung around, asking what on earth he thought he was doing.

He had swallowed, rubbed his eyes, and blushed, all the while stuttering a "Well—yes—nothing."

And somehow, like a miracle, she had pitied him and helped him with all of his homework. Not even today could he clearly remember how it had happened, when she had uttered the words "I'll help you," but it didn't matter, because they had begun to study together since then, and they had grown closer and closer with every year.

* * *

They hadn't spoken for months, and yet she had smiled at him as though everything was normal. And Lorcan hadn't been able to decide whether he liked that or not.

So he had walked out here, because it was just impossible to think clearly in there; it was just too crammed and too noisy and too _much _inside. But it was his graduation party (as well as Lys', Luce's, and Dom's), so what else should he expect?

(Anything but a flirting Rose, a cynical voice told him.)

And here she came, sitting down next to him, smoothing out her skirt which had moved up a bit and revealed some golden skin. (It had been like a habit to him by now; he was so easily acquainted her with gold, he didn't even notice it.) "Hey," she said, all the giggling that had been in her voice when they had talked to each other inside completely gone.

"Hi," he answered.

"What're you doing?" she asked after a moment of silence, the first awkward silence Lorcan could remember there ever having been between them.

"Thinking," Lorcan answered. "Thinking of that time when you found me outside the Great Hall after dinner." It was the first time he had ever spoken of that day with her, with anyone, but he felt as though he didn't care anymore.

She gave him a quick look with narrowed eyebrows. "Oh" was all she said.

"I never thanked you for it. You know, you've done a lot of things for me I've never…," he began, but she put a hand on his knee and stopped him.

"It's okay, I promise. There's no need to thank me, Lorc."

"Isn't there?" He smiled crookedly. "Who knows where I'd be today if you hadn't been there for me."

"Lorcan," she swallowed hard before continuing. "It got better, didn't it? Do we have to speak of it? Don't you want to put it all behind you?"

Lorcan laughed a bit, looked out at the dark sky, which felt as though it was not only around him, but also suffocating him from the inside. "You really think I can?"

"No," she said silently, pulling her knees up and clutching them to her upper body. "But we have talked about it before."

"I know, sorry," he said as he saw her eyes losing their glint. "I shouldn't have brought it up again." He regretted it all now.

"It's okay," she answered, as quietly as the last thing she had said.

"Why did you come out here?" he asked after a while.

"To talk to you."

"But," he began, "what is it, Rose, what do you really want with it?" Lorcan asked, not daring to look her in the eye.

"Do I have to want something?" she asked, staring at him. And he knew she only wanted to be his friend, never something else, and he couldn't stand it any longer. He had tried so many times.

"Yes, because otherwise you aren't Rose." Lorcan rose from the ground, not wanting to risk something with staying. As he walked away, he thought of how this time was the first time he had walked away, how this was the first time their roles had been reversed. He had always been the one who had been left, not the other way around.

He hated her for it. What she made him do to her.

(Because when he had first seen her that night, his stomach had jolted and he had felt so happy, but now there was only an empty pitch black hole in his heart.)

* * *

And then he left her again. Because now it was he who was going to explore the world with his brother and it was she who was going to stay. They met a couple of weeks before, she told him her tips and funny little stories, but nothing really mattered. They didn't speak as they had once spoken with each other, and they didn't look at each other as they had used to look. And when they finally parted after a one-armed hug, Lorcan thought this was really the end of everything that could have been.

He could still taste the gold of her lips as he remembered that day by the lake which he now saw as the beginning of the end for them.

Yes, they parted, and they had parted so severely that now he saw no possibility for them to bounce back and into each other again. They had fallen flat to the ground, so far from each other that they could hardly see the other.

Not even if Lorcan tried his best.

* * *

It was on a beach in Thailand when he realized he had to do something. His eyes were closed, the warm sand underneath his body was so soft, and everything was so peaceful. But the golden, quickly moving pictures on the inside of his eyelids shouted at him that there was an empty space next to him.

An empty space that should have been filled with red, flaming hair, vivid eyes, and tanned skin. An empty space that should have been filled with tingling laughter, witty comments, and deep, deep thoughts that needed to be shared.

(Sorry, bro, you just can't be all that.)

So after a deep breath, he opened his eyes, feeling himself smile widely. He was about to make things right, and now that he had decided it, everything felt much freer.

* * *

"Anyone home?" Lorcan tried to yell but whisper through the door to the apartment; it was half past twelve in the night and he didn't want to wake up anyone else in the building. But he hadn't thought of the time difference as he had Apparated home, and when he had arrived he hadn't been able to wait until the next morning. Especially not when Lysander had tried telling him to think it all through; he of course couldn't let him be right.

But no one came to the door, and Lorcan pulled a hand through his hair. It really had become long this almost-year he had been away, he thought absentmindedly. Sure, he had cut it once, in a little shop in Hanoi where Lysander had gotten some dreads and pearls put in his own hair, but it hadn't taken long until it again hanged down in his eyes.

Suddenly steps were heard from inside the door and it swung open. "Lorcan?"

Lorcan simply blinked.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Asia or somewhere?" The blonde, half naked man in front of him rubbed his eyes tiredly and pulled up the hem of his boxers a bit, but he smiled his usual caring smile.

Lorcan wasn't even able to try and smile. "…is Rose there?"

"Sure, I'll get her." Scorpius turned around while adding, "Come in, though."

Lorcan felt dazed as he walked into the hallway. It was rather messy, but the scent of oranges and cinnamon—the scent of Rose, he realized, and it felt as though his heart smiled sadly at him—hit him.

"Lorcan, what are you doing here?" Rose came out from a door, their _bedroom_, and pulled a nightgown closely around her. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just…well…I just came to—" Lorcan began but was interrupted by Scorpius.

"Er, I'll go make some tea or something?"

"Yeah, do that, Scor." Rose turned and continued, "We can go to the living room."

Lorcan followed her, but he really just wanted to get out of there, run away, and hit someone so hard that _he_ would feel it himself, too.

Rose took a seat on the worn-out sofa, grabbed a brown pillow, and put it on her knees. "Lorc, what's going on? Is there an emergency or what? You look all messed up." He couldn't help but think it was funny; _she _looked pretty worn-out. The disheveled red hair (that was as usual glowing like gold in the light from the lamp), the bags underneath her eyes from lack of sleeping—all right, it wasn't funny. There was only one reason as to why she would look like that, and Lorcan wasn't it—Scorpius was.

Lorcan swallowed and rose, even though he had sat down just five seconds ago. "I don't know, I don't know why I came here in the first place." He refused to meet her eyes, and he could hear Scorpius clattering in the kitchen and it resounded so loud in his ears. "Sorry, I'll see you around."

Then he walked off and he could hear Rose saying something, but he didn't know what. He was out in a heartbeat, and then down on the road where he sank down against a lamppost. He could sense pricking behind his eyes, and he felt so tired, so drained.

He sat there for three hours, and then a Muggle policeman came and shoved him away.

* * *

Now he knew it, now, that he had been too late. When he finally had made the decision to be brave, to do what was right, she had found herself another hero.

A hero that would always be better than him, despite everything he tried. Proper blonde instead of dirty blonde. Same age instead of younger. Good job instead of unemployed. Popular instead of loner.

Because it really fit better, didn't it? The silver-eyed boy with the golden-skinned princess.

* * *

Lorcan shifted a bit in his seat. He hadn't been out for days, had hardly moved from his room back at his mum's and dad's place. It was in fact starting to get a bit boring, when he thought about it; mostly he just lay on his bed or sat in his armchair, staring out at the hills with a numb feeling in his brain. One moment he would think _hey! That's a funny looking cloud!_, the next he would see Rose's lips in front of his eyes and think how he had only had the chance to taste them once.

He didn't know what else to do.

A knock was heard on his door. "Dad, I don't want anything, I've told you," Lorcan said, not even looking at the door when it swung open.

"Lorcan, come with me, right now." A hand touched his arm, and everything happened so quickly, all Lorcan had time to think was how those fingernails certainly didn't belong to his dad—they were way too clean.

And in no matter of time they sat on the bench in the garden, and it didn't really matter that it was autumn because it still reminded Lorcan of summer days with lemonade and chasing each other, water wars, bubblegum, picking roses for Rose and pretending to be a gentleman, dangling with too-short legs and gazing at the stars even though they were supposed to have fallen asleep earlier.

They had always been childish in the summer holidays. But they had never laughed more either. And Lorcan had never felt safer than in those days with Rose, far away from everything. "Is it true what Lysander told me?" Rose's voice pulled him back into the crispy air.

"What did he tell you?"

"That you haven't left your room for three days since the two of you got home?" Rose's eyes were sternly set on Lorcan, but he didn't feel the urge to look away, as he usually did.

"I suppose," he answered instead, smiling a bit.

"Why?"

"I like my room. I've missed it."

Rose rolled her eyes. "C'mon. Not funny, Lorc."

"All right." Lorcan braced himself. He was so clear in his head right now; the numbness he had felt before Rose had come was gone, forgotten, and left alone to fade away. This was it. "I think you already know why."

"I do?" Rose asked softly.

"Yes. So it's all up to you. Insanely amazing or amazingly insane, you choose."

Rose looked down at the ground, then out into the sky. "Which one is you, Lorcan?" she asked finally, keeping her gaze at the grey sky.

"That's also up to you, I think," Lorcan answered, not knowing what he really was talking about, but it somehow made sense to him.

"Then you know what I'll pick." Rose turned slowly around, and Lorcan's brain was screaming incomprehensible things at him.

"I think I do, yes," Lorcan parted his lips slightly, and there she was. How he had missed the flavor of pure gold and, still, it wasn't possible that he had tasted her properly the last time, because this was a million times better.

And it was so perfect, in every way, because now she had come back to him, and it was as though those years since the day by the lake had never happened because now they were here and that could have been yesterday. But that didn't matter, because they were together, and the sun that suddenly burst through the clouds made Rose's hair sparkle like gold once again. And the best thing was that that golden hair was twirled around Lorcan's fingers.

* * *

When he thought about how happy he was in the darkest hours that night, awake thanks to a nightmare, he feared it would be revealed that he had received too much happiness, so he would snap back to reality and Rose would be snatched from him again.

In the morning, though, when the sun cast its first beams through the window, there would only be gold on Lorcan's mind.

And in Rose's eyes, too, when she opened them and saw him. Because this was how it should be, they both knew it.

"Good morning," Lorcan said quietly as she wrapped her arms around his body and pulled him closer to her.

"Hi," she answered and put her ear against his chest.

"You know, no offense or anything—what about Scor?" Lorcan wasn't even afraid to ask; he knew she wouldn't leave him, he was only curious.

"That night, you know, when you came up to us," Rose began, not even sounding startled by his question, and her fingers all the while tracing patterns on Lorcan's stomach, "I guess he sensed something was wrong…and, well, it was actually him who made me realize I should go after you."

Lorcan raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah. You know we have always been really close, so I guess he just saw it in me, or something." She suddenly snickered a bit. "And we had both probably begun feeling that taking our friendship into a relationship wasn't working so well, so it was good you came and stopped us."

"So that's what I did? Saved your friendship with Scorpius?" Lorcan asked, waggling his eyebrows a bit as he looked down at her.

She nodded, mock innocence all over her face. "Yes, and I'm so thankful."

"Glad I'm good for something," Lorcan said and nodded, trying to be solemn.

They stared at each other for a while, and then both burst out laughing. It wasn't even that funny, but they kept and kept laughing, so much that their stomachs ached.

* * *

Some would call it stubbornness, some denying, and some would call it a long wait and let it be that.


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama, Romance