Closed Revisiting

[Lucien Snow]

If someone had told him that the former Slytherin would be living in New Zealand, without his twin brother who died, being an orphan, and dating his best friend from school, Lucien would have spat in their face for such a ridiculous tale. If it weren't for Esme Lancaster, Lucien would have remained on the French Quidditch team, living in his homeland. However, he moved to New Zealand to be closer to Esme. He had other siblings, but since Jean's departure, Lucien had isolated himself. It only got worse after his mother passed. He supposed that she could not handle such heartbreak. Lucien sat alone in his house which was not too far from the Styx Manor, on the same area of land without being visually seen. It was also the only home within a ten mile radius that did not have a pool. Ever since Avie Mitchell drowned, Lucien swore off pools. In fact, his house did not even have a bathtub. Just walk in showers. Lucien's fear of water severely increased since then. Lucien sat in his armchair, with a small glass of firewhiskey in his hand. He was exhausted, and nodded off every now and then. Lucien also completely forgot that he had invited over Esme today.

 

[Esme Lancaster]

Life had been difficult for Esme. All of it, not just in particular instances it seemed. It was a series of hardships and tragedies, one after the other with little room for a reprieve. If it had not been for Lucien remaining in her life, despite all of the odds, the woman wasn't sure where she'd find the strength to keep going. The loss of Avie and Vulcan had taken its toll, but it was a loss she shared with her best friend, and sharing the burden of grief with him was somehow comforting. She felt less alone.

The thin shawl around Esme's arms was pulled more tightly to her form, combating the chill of the air outside as she approached Lucien's home, which contradictory to a Snow, appeared far warmer and inviting than her loft above The Silver Snake. She let herself in through the open door, taking slow, deliberate steps throughout the house while she listened out for any telltale sounds of where Lucien may have been. When she did find the man, it was not in the state she had expected from an invitation to join him for the evening. "Lucien." Esme sighed, a sad frown touching her lips. Not willing to startle him, she quietly walked up to the side of his armchair, and gingerly removed the glass bottle from his hand with one of her own, while the other gently cupped his cheek to rouse him from his doze.​

 

[Lucien Snow]

Lucien dreamed a dream so wonderful, it couldn’t be true. The ones he lost and held close to him, talking but Lucien could not make out the words. The French man dreamed of Esme coming forward, and touching his cheek affectionately. It felt real. So very real. Lucien’s eyes fluttered open to see that the field he dreamt was no longer there, and he was in his home. What was real was Esme’s hand on his face. “Esme,” Lucien spoke, sleep still covering his words. He placed his hand upon Esme’s which rested on his cheek. “Uh, I didn’t forget a date, did I? S**t I did.” Lucien hated it when he appeared weak and fragile, but he always let his guard down around Esme. He trusted her, loved her. Never in his school years would he have dreamed that he was actually dating Esme.