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christmasspirit1st September, 1998. Bowing to Ministry pressure (the tossers), Lavender returns to school for her eighth year.
Another of my 'Drabble' fails 😉, written with tonnes of love formywitch.
Originally Published: 2019-06-03 on LJ / DW
Words: 3.9k, one shot, complete
Rating: Mature
Characters: Lavender, Ron, house elves, Mentioned: Harry, Hermione, Parvati
It was different this year. Lavender Brown had always looked forward to the first day of school. Fine, the first year she might have been a little nervous - and missed her rabbit - but after that, in the years to come, her position was clear, everything tidily defined. She didn't need to be a seer to know what to expect. Parvati, and often her twin sister Padma, would be waiting for her, she and 'Vati would catch up on all the delicious goss, where they'd gone, what they'd done...
This time last year, Lav had been bursting with excitement to tell 'Vati all about Gaston, the swoon-worthy boy, no, man, the swoon-worthy man she'd met while summering with her mum and grandparents in France. It had helped her get over that horrible affair with Ron and... Hermione. Her roommate, the witch, had stolen her boyfriend and still the Prefect was held up to all as some kind of role model, a paragon of virtue. The hypocrisy! It had been infuriating. Nauseating. Humiliating.
Heartbreaking...
But the time with Gaston had helped her get over that, and she'd felt herself again. Well, mostly. So there she was, a year ago, looking forward to the start of the term, despite the whole political looniness...
It might have helped that she knew Hermione (as a Muggle-born) couldn't be returning, she can admit that. Well, not out loud, obviously; she'd have to be an idiot to say so (public opinion would roast her at the stake), and she most definitely isn't. But she'd have also had to have been an idiot to not recognise the advantage to not having to watch her WonWon snogging her stupid bint of a roommate in every corner of the castle. Ron had rather liked making a display of things, proving to one and all how terribly desirable he was. ('And he had been...' she sighs.) She didn't think she had the stomach to watch if he kept that up, and she was fairly sure he would...
Gaston!
Yes, Gaston. Oh, he'd been just... dreamy. So yummy. And she should know, she'd tasted him extensively. (Hadn't that been a treat; no bothersome calories involved.) And so there she'd been, a satchel full of holiday snaps to show, just in case someone wasn't inclined to believe her claims.
But then nothing had gone to plan.
WonWon hadn't returned to school either. Word was, he was home with Spattergroit. The tattle, of course, said that was complete rubbish, and he'd run off with that witch Hermione. Seventh years! Shacking up together! No matter how delish Gaston or even WonWon had been, she'd never have considered doing that. At least not till she'd finished school. Somehow imagining what they had got up to, Hermione and Lav's WonWon, was even worse than the reality.
Probably.
Certainly the way they told the story. There'd been a lot of camping and cold and hunger and running about, most of which sounded uncomfortable or boring, and when it wasn't that, it was apparently thoroughly unpleasant. Not Lav's scene at all, really. Any of it.
But the point was Lav doesn't have anything to compare it to, what it would have actually been like to have had to watch the two of them instead...
The whole last year had been a disaster, from start to finish. And it was still easier to focus on that than the past few months. Safer.
She absently fingers the scars Greyback had gifted her in the battle as she tries not to think about it.
She fails, of course. There's only so long she can avoid it. It's the reason she's hidden here in an alcove near the kitchens, avoiding even the elves, and not sat in the Great Hall joining the others for the Sorting Ceremony and the start of term feast. She'd gotten permission from the Headmistress to Apparate back to Hogwarts this afternoon, in advance of the arrival of the Express. She'd had an excellent excuse, naturally; she'd had yet another in a long line of appointments at St. Mungo's. These days, it seemed she always did. But as it meant she would miss the Express, she was thankful. So she Apparated, and after dropping her things in her room, she'd beaten a hasty retreat. She didn't want to be there when the others returned. For them to see her like that.
It was only delaying the inevitable, and yet she wanted to delay it as long as she could.
As the Prophet had it, Hermione was the only reason Harry had survived the last year on the run. Privately, Lav thinks that's a load of bollocks; she knows full well Harry beat Hermione in their DADA O.W.L.s., but that's what Skeeter had to say and the public seems to believe. (Lav would think withering thoughts about the press' dodgy research if it didn't sound just too, too Hermione-esque. Not that she's pleased with the results in the least...) While there was much speculation on the nature of the relationships between the 'Golden Trio', Skeeter had been quite clear: Hermione and WonWon were 'a thing' now.
Hermione wasn't great looking or anything, but her teeth had been sorted years ago, somewhere or another she'd learnt a charm to at least kind of manage her hair, and if Lav's fair - it's not unheard of - Hermione was perfectly passable these days.
Lav wouldn't ordinarily consider 'passable' cause for worry.
The trouble is, Lav isn't.
She's nowhere near passable these days.
She's nothing but a circus freak. With a craving for meat. It bordered on a wonder, the Healers had said, that she had survived at all. Lav thinks she looks it. Like she probably shouldn't have survived. Some days, many days, she wishes she hadn't.
The first thing she'd done when she'd been released from St. Mungo's was to remove all mirrors in the house. (She may have done so with a Reducto - thank you, Harry - and she and her mum may have had words - many and very heated words - afterwards. It was only fair, though. What had her mum been thinking?) The next thing she tried was disconnecting their Floo. Her mum hadn't been pleased in the least at the idea and finally won with the argument the connection meant Lav could Floo straight to St. Mungo's instead of Apparating outside. She was less likely to attract attention that way. Those were the proverbial magic words, of course. Anything she can do to go unnoticed... They ended up compromising and agreed Lav need never answer it. She wasn't even taking owls.
If it were up to her, she'd still be home in her bedroom, hiding from the world. If it hadn't been for the appointments, the never-ending appointments, she'd never have left the house at all.
But the Ministry wanted everyone to return to school, for things to get back to 'normal'. Lav scoffs at the thought. There is no normal anymore. And it had been a huge ask to expect everyone to return to the scene of the slaughter. But the new government hadn't wanted to mandate it and have everyone notice just how little had changed with the new regime, so they'd set about pressuring people in the sneakiest possible ways. Lav was quite sure, the Ministry must be overrun with Slytherins to this very day.
Well, them or Ravenclaws. Some days it's hard to tell the difference.
'Incentivising', she'd heard it called.
They'd trapped Lav with the threat to no longer permit her mum to deduct her daughter from her taxes if the aforementioned daughter didn't resume her schooling. She was of age, after all. And then, purely by coincidence, there had been a hefty tax hike that seemed to apply to anyone with offspring that could have returned but chose not to. The tossers. (The Muggle-born, ironically, had been largely unaffected by that one. Suspicion was, Memory Charms may have been brought to bear to help encourage them.)
Her mum, in turn, had threatened to kick Lav out of their home if she didn't go back to complete her eighth year, which had rather decisively settled the matter for their family. And according to the new law, there'd be further benefits were Lav to do an apprenticeship next year, so that seemed carved in stone as well, she thinks glumly.
Right now, she has a few O.W.L.s and no N.E.W.T.s, no apprenticeship lined up, no qualifications (beyond circus act)... What she has are visions of spooning cold food from a Muggle tin, a nightmare scenario Professor Burbage had imparted in Muggle Studies. (For the sake of the nightmare, a Warming Charm couldn't be employed. Lav hasn't a clue why not, the things were dead useful, but she assumes it's down to atmosphere. People don't appreciate its importance enough.) Either way, that story had made the rounds. Cold food in tins. Living on the street. Possibly in a cardboard box for some reason, although an Impervius, Softening and Warming Charms could make it rather cozy, really. Perhaps with some curtains... At any rate, Lav already saw herself ending as the crazy Kneazle lady of the tale.
So she hides here in her niche off the kitchens, eating a plate of exceedingly rare beef, practically mooing, wondering what would attract more notice, her meal or her ravaged face had she joined the others in the Great Hall. If she times it right, she can get back to her room before dinner is over and hide behind the curtains of her bed. That should get her through to tomorrow morning.
She's just not sure what she'll do then...
She's been practising for all she's worth, glamouring up a storm. It never seems to be good enough, to hide the extensive damage... She doesn't stop even as she sits there now, casting absently again and again...
Which is when she's interrupted.
"Hey, Lav. What are you doing here?"
The voice is far too familiar for comfort.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron had Apparated back to Hogwarts in an attempt to avoid the reporters and the crush of fans. (Mostly Harry's, as luck would have it. 'Boy-Who-Lived', yet again, after all.) That took some getting used to, the mobbing, and the three of them hadn't been out and about much this summer to do so.
The Apparition idea was sound in principle. It had kept them from being trapped in enclosed quarters with nowhere to flee for the better part of a day, and they had escaped the reporters quite nicely in the process, so there's that. But now they'd reached Hogwarts, there were still the other students to deal with, and a great number of them seem intent on making as much of a nuisance of themselves as humanly possible.
Worse: as magically possible.
Wingardium Leviosas had steered more than a handful of self-inking quills and parchment their way for autographs, and the cameras had flown about, flashing without respite. One could bank on the results landing in some rag or another by the weekend at the latest.
The minute the trio had reached the castle, they'd been swamped, swarmed. It was just like those weaponised honeybees 'Mione had been on about. Terrifying. And that's coming from someone who had faced the Death Eater hordes, or at least that's what Ron plans on putting in his CV.
He'd seen an opening, and so he took it, loping off towards the kitchens, simply not up to all the people and certainly not up to the Great Hall. He doesn't understand how McGonagall thought they could just hold the feast there, all of them sat there happily eating as though it hadn't served as the wizarding world's largest morgue not four months since.
He half suspects the answer is she's barmy. It would go a fair way to explaining a lot. Like why they're all back here to begin with...
And so Ron heads for a quiet corner, thinking he'll pop by the kitchens later. He's all the more surprised to discover Lavender there already. He hesitates for a moment, her head is lowered, but there's no mistaking her hair - she hasn't seen him yet, he could get away clean... But something about her posture makes him stay. She isn't chasing him, she doesn't want anything from him like the masses clamouring for Harry in the Entrance Hall. So he enters the alcove, clearing his throat to alert her to his presence.
"Hey, Lav. What are you doing here? Aren't you going to miss the feast?"
"Aren't you?" she answers, and it seems a bit short. Certainly for Lav anyway. She lifts her head from her plate, but still doesn't quite look at him, her hair acting almost as a shield between them.
He plops down heavily on the bench next to her, sort of at her back, really, because she's still sitting turned away from the opening.
"Did I ask you to join me?" She hisses accusingly.
He ignores the question. Ron's not fussed with propriety or seemliness. He doesn't wait for an invitation, Merlin knows, he'd have spent his whole life waiting for one at the Burrow with six siblings... Five now. Five...
With a sigh, he replies, "I was going to eat in the kitchens. Care to join me?"
Lav's fairly sure there's blood on her lips and maybe on her chin from her meal. She really doesn't want to be seen like this. It could have been worse, she supposes, had she been turned. She has a ranking in her mind: werewolf was the worst, vampire only marginally better (but the blood sucking was unquestionably a tidier affair), what she is (whatever that might be) came in third worst, and death was preferable to the lot, she's sure.
She dabs at her mouth with a serviette, but Ron's already grabbed her arm and begun tugging. "C'mon, it's not comfortable eating here without a table." Lav can't help thinking she'd managed nicely enough. If she'd wanted her plate raised higher, she'd have used a Wingardium Leviosa. But Ron's dragging her after him and it's all she can do to grab her plate and follow.
She's having difficulty keeping her head down, her curtain of hair between them, but this is Ron, and he's headed to the kitchens. He doesn't spare her another thought as he leads the way, and she relaxes a little. The corridor before the kitchens is brightly lit, she panics briefly, but Ron remains fully concentrated on his task, scanning the food-themed paintings for the right one. He tickles the pear (the first time Lav had heard that, she'd thought it an euphemism for some act she hadn't yet encountered) in a painting of a bowl of fruit, it giggles and a handle appears in front of them. Ron takes it in hand, about as surely as he'd grabbed her, and the next thing she knows, he's basically pushed her onto one of the benches in the kitchens.
Well nothing has changed there. He'd never been the most gentlemanly of her suitors.
She keeps her face lowered, studying her plate she's now placed on the table in front of her. Ron doesn't seem to notice. He calls out to one of the elves, asking for a plate of his own, a bit of tuck as he's missing the meal. Lav notices the elves are so kind as not to point out they haven't even begun serving upstairs, and he wouldn't be missing it at all if he'd only join the rest... But he'd been polite enough about it, another lesson learnt, and soon he's stuffing chicken legs into his mouth.
"Aren'tcha gonna eat that?" He manages between mouthfuls, or probably more like during mouthfuls. It definitely doesn't slow him any.
"You don't mind the sight?" She asks, indicating the slab of barely cooked meat on her plate. 'Cooked' was generous; it could hardly be called 'warmed'.
Ron gives her a quizzical look and spits out "The sighta wot?" with some of his half masticated chicken.
"My dinner," she replies, utterly confused as to why it hadn't been obvious.
Ron swallows, which unsurprisingly does wonders for his enunciation. "If you're not going to eat it, I wouldn't mind a bite."
At this Lav finally dares to risk a peek. "You'd want some of my dinner." She just dumbly echos his thought; she's too stunned to even make a question of it.
"Food's food," he answers, once again returning his attention to his chicken. "And I certainly wouldn't mind a bit of steak."
Half fearing it's a cruel joke, Lav cuts him some and places it on his plate. If she's still hungry, she knows the elves will prepare more for her, not that there seems to be much preparation involved. (It's almost just as it had been sent from the butcher's...) In an effort to avoid embarrassing her at meals, the elves had been carefully instructed in advance as to her dietary requirements and had seemed quite understanding really. Practically supportive. They'd invited her to eat there when she'd first fetched her food, but she'd just been too uncomfortable in any company.
Even theirs.
Ron doesn't hesitate, he takes a bite. "It's gone cold," he says. "Sorry I dragged you from it. Here," and he applies a Warming Charm to both of their plates. It's weird, and she wouldn't have thought of it, but it warms her food without rendering it more well done. It hadn't occurred to her that it doesn't actually cook things.
She's tries not to think about why it might be the case, but practically raw and warm? Such an improvement. She digs in with relish and something that could have been a feral growl. "See?" He says, pride clear in his tone. "Better isn't it? Learnt a few things while camping last year."
Soon they're eating together as though it were normal, her plate is empty and an elf appears beside them asking, "Would Missy be liking more?"
Ron answers for her. "Yes, please." She smiles a little shyly, but when it arrives she cuts off half to give to him, and they continue their meal.
They don't speak until they're finished, but that's never taken Ron long, and since the battle, well, meat doesn't hang about her plate for any great length of time either. "How did you rate steak?" He asks.
She stares at him in disbelief. "The werewolf attack," she prods his clearly addled brian. "Dietary changes are all part and parcel of the joys of the aftereffects."
"Oh, yeah. Bill has that. Murder on the household budget all that meat, but he's made a few connections. Let me know if you want me to get their names for you."
Lav blinks, taken aback. She'd forgotten about his brother, that he was in much the same situation. "Well, not so long as I'm at school, obviously, but I guess you're right." Goodness knows, her mum had complained about the bills on more than one occasion this summer. "That could help once I've graduated."
"You should try for an apprenticeship with board included," he suggests. It had never crossed her mind, but somehow it isn't surprising that Ron had thought of it. It's a very good suggestion.
"Are there a lot of those?"
"More than you'd think. And the rest are sometimes open for negotiation. That's the biggest drawback to the Auror programme, only lunches are included, but if you plan it right, that can carry you for most of your daily requirement. Until you're earning real Galleons, and not just apprentice's pay... Well, every Knut counts," he shrugs. The longer they talk, the more comfortable she grows. The fact he never reacts when she begins to raise her head has her forgetting to be self-conscious.
Soon she's looking him in the eyes, and it dawns on her she hasn't done that since... Well, since May. "I was sorry to hear about Fred," she tells him quietly.
"Yeah," he deflates in front of her, the impact of that loss clearly etched on his face. "Sorry I never got in touch while you were at St. Mungo's. The situation at home... Fred..."
"Oh, of course not. Don't worry about it. I understand perfectly." She's gotten good, frighteningly so, at lip service, making appeasing noises that have nothing to do with how she feels, eager to avoid yet another vulnerability. But she has to admit, she hadn't allowed anyone to come see her, not even 'Vati. She hadn't taken a single Floo call, or even read any owls. In fact, if he hadn't said as much, she'd never have known he hadn't tried to get in touch.
She tries to decide if she really doesn't mind that he hadn't, regardless what she'd said.
It strikes her that it isn't easy to answer.
Most people who had seen her shortly after the attack had looked at her with such pity... She'd hated it. But Ron, here and now, he's treating her just like normal. She vastly prefers this, and she doesn't know if it would have been possible in the months prior.
"They did a great job on you, though," he says and she blanches, desperate for him not to go there. "You can't tell you'd been attacked at all."
Lav sits there, barely breathing, trying to parse what he'd just said. It dawns on her that it wasn't 'pretty good for someone run through the mincer' or 'not half ugly' or something like that, but that he didn't seem to think it was visible at all. Sure, objectively her face wasn't as badly mauled as her chest, but it had mattered so much more. And, yeah, she hasn't seen herself in a mirror in months. If she didn't know the Charms for her makeup by heart, she'd have been in a real bind. And it's possible, just possible, that all of her practice on the Glamours had done some good...
She sits a little taller, shifts her hair behind her ears, exposing her face (and her soul) to his scrutiny, and dares to ask, "Do you really think so?"
Ron chuckles. "I'm not exactly known for my subtlety."
And she laughs.
It's true, he isn't and, Merlin, it wasn't even funny, except it is. Shockingly so.
It occurs to her, this may be the first time she's laughed since before the battle, and there hadn't really been all that much to laugh about last year. Once she starts, she has a hard time stopping. So she sits there holding her sides and laughing until her ribs hurt, and it's so darn funny the sight of her trying to hold it in, that soon Ron joins in until they're both falling about the table.
She wipes a tear from her eyes when she finally gets herself back under control, trying to catch her breath. "Thanks. I think I really needed that."
Godric, he hasn't laughed like that since... Sixth year. "Me too," he's quick to agree, and somehow they're holding hands. It's friendly, nothing more, but it's been months since she's allowed anyone who wasn't a Healer to touch her and it feels... comforting. "Do you suppose we could get a spot of dessert?" He asks.
"Anything's possible," she replies, and as she says it, she thinks she might really mean it this time.
For MyWitch, for a bunch of reasons, but mostly because she's super awesome and loves Lav. ❤️
The story is mirrored on Dreamwidth and LiveJournal.
Other works by gingerbred can be found on Dreamwidth and LiveJournal.
ADDITIONAL STAND ALONE ONE SHOTS PLANNED FOR THIS UNIVERSE.
Another of my 'Drabble' fails 😉, written with tonnes of love for
mywitch.Originally Published: 2019-06-03 on LJ / DW
Words: 3.9k, one shot, complete
Rating: Mature
Characters: Lavender, Ron, house elves, Mentioned: Harry, Hermione, Parvati
1st September, 1998
It was different this year. Lavender Brown had always looked forward to the first day of school. Fine, the first year she might have been a little nervous - and missed her rabbit - but after that, in the years to come, her position was clear, everything tidily defined. She didn't need to be a seer to know what to expect. Parvati, and often her twin sister Padma, would be waiting for her, she and 'Vati would catch up on all the delicious goss, where they'd gone, what they'd done...
This time last year, Lav had been bursting with excitement to tell 'Vati all about Gaston, the swoon-worthy boy, no, man, the swoon-worthy man she'd met while summering with her mum and grandparents in France. It had helped her get over that horrible affair with Ron and... Hermione. Her roommate, the witch, had stolen her boyfriend and still the Prefect was held up to all as some kind of role model, a paragon of virtue. The hypocrisy! It had been infuriating. Nauseating. Humiliating.
Heartbreaking...
But the time with Gaston had helped her get over that, and she'd felt herself again. Well, mostly. So there she was, a year ago, looking forward to the start of the term, despite the whole political looniness...
It might have helped that she knew Hermione (as a Muggle-born) couldn't be returning, she can admit that. Well, not out loud, obviously; she'd have to be an idiot to say so (public opinion would roast her at the stake), and she most definitely isn't. But she'd have also had to have been an idiot to not recognise the advantage to not having to watch her WonWon snogging her stupid bint of a roommate in every corner of the castle. Ron had rather liked making a display of things, proving to one and all how terribly desirable he was. ('And he had been...' she sighs.) She didn't think she had the stomach to watch if he kept that up, and she was fairly sure he would...
Gaston!
Yes, Gaston. Oh, he'd been just... dreamy. So yummy. And she should know, she'd tasted him extensively. (Hadn't that been a treat; no bothersome calories involved.) And so there she'd been, a satchel full of holiday snaps to show, just in case someone wasn't inclined to believe her claims.
But then nothing had gone to plan.
WonWon hadn't returned to school either. Word was, he was home with Spattergroit. The tattle, of course, said that was complete rubbish, and he'd run off with that witch Hermione. Seventh years! Shacking up together! No matter how delish Gaston or even WonWon had been, she'd never have considered doing that. At least not till she'd finished school. Somehow imagining what they had got up to, Hermione and Lav's WonWon, was even worse than the reality.
Probably.
Certainly the way they told the story. There'd been a lot of camping and cold and hunger and running about, most of which sounded uncomfortable or boring, and when it wasn't that, it was apparently thoroughly unpleasant. Not Lav's scene at all, really. Any of it.
But the point was Lav doesn't have anything to compare it to, what it would have actually been like to have had to watch the two of them instead...
The whole last year had been a disaster, from start to finish. And it was still easier to focus on that than the past few months. Safer.
She absently fingers the scars Greyback had gifted her in the battle as she tries not to think about it.
She fails, of course. There's only so long she can avoid it. It's the reason she's hidden here in an alcove near the kitchens, avoiding even the elves, and not sat in the Great Hall joining the others for the Sorting Ceremony and the start of term feast. She'd gotten permission from the Headmistress to Apparate back to Hogwarts this afternoon, in advance of the arrival of the Express. She'd had an excellent excuse, naturally; she'd had yet another in a long line of appointments at St. Mungo's. These days, it seemed she always did. But as it meant she would miss the Express, she was thankful. So she Apparated, and after dropping her things in her room, she'd beaten a hasty retreat. She didn't want to be there when the others returned. For them to see her like that.
It was only delaying the inevitable, and yet she wanted to delay it as long as she could.
As the Prophet had it, Hermione was the only reason Harry had survived the last year on the run. Privately, Lav thinks that's a load of bollocks; she knows full well Harry beat Hermione in their DADA O.W.L.s., but that's what Skeeter had to say and the public seems to believe. (Lav would think withering thoughts about the press' dodgy research if it didn't sound just too, too Hermione-esque. Not that she's pleased with the results in the least...) While there was much speculation on the nature of the relationships between the 'Golden Trio', Skeeter had been quite clear: Hermione and WonWon were 'a thing' now.
Hermione wasn't great looking or anything, but her teeth had been sorted years ago, somewhere or another she'd learnt a charm to at least kind of manage her hair, and if Lav's fair - it's not unheard of - Hermione was perfectly passable these days.
Lav wouldn't ordinarily consider 'passable' cause for worry.
The trouble is, Lav isn't.
She's nowhere near passable these days.
She's nothing but a circus freak. With a craving for meat. It bordered on a wonder, the Healers had said, that she had survived at all. Lav thinks she looks it. Like she probably shouldn't have survived. Some days, many days, she wishes she hadn't.
The first thing she'd done when she'd been released from St. Mungo's was to remove all mirrors in the house. (She may have done so with a Reducto - thank you, Harry - and she and her mum may have had words - many and very heated words - afterwards. It was only fair, though. What had her mum been thinking?) The next thing she tried was disconnecting their Floo. Her mum hadn't been pleased in the least at the idea and finally won with the argument the connection meant Lav could Floo straight to St. Mungo's instead of Apparating outside. She was less likely to attract attention that way. Those were the proverbial magic words, of course. Anything she can do to go unnoticed... They ended up compromising and agreed Lav need never answer it. She wasn't even taking owls.
If it were up to her, she'd still be home in her bedroom, hiding from the world. If it hadn't been for the appointments, the never-ending appointments, she'd never have left the house at all.
But the Ministry wanted everyone to return to school, for things to get back to 'normal'. Lav scoffs at the thought. There is no normal anymore. And it had been a huge ask to expect everyone to return to the scene of the slaughter. But the new government hadn't wanted to mandate it and have everyone notice just how little had changed with the new regime, so they'd set about pressuring people in the sneakiest possible ways. Lav was quite sure, the Ministry must be overrun with Slytherins to this very day.
Well, them or Ravenclaws. Some days it's hard to tell the difference.
'Incentivising', she'd heard it called.
They'd trapped Lav with the threat to no longer permit her mum to deduct her daughter from her taxes if the aforementioned daughter didn't resume her schooling. She was of age, after all. And then, purely by coincidence, there had been a hefty tax hike that seemed to apply to anyone with offspring that could have returned but chose not to. The tossers. (The Muggle-born, ironically, had been largely unaffected by that one. Suspicion was, Memory Charms may have been brought to bear to help encourage them.)
Her mum, in turn, had threatened to kick Lav out of their home if she didn't go back to complete her eighth year, which had rather decisively settled the matter for their family. And according to the new law, there'd be further benefits were Lav to do an apprenticeship next year, so that seemed carved in stone as well, she thinks glumly.
Right now, she has a few O.W.L.s and no N.E.W.T.s, no apprenticeship lined up, no qualifications (beyond circus act)... What she has are visions of spooning cold food from a Muggle tin, a nightmare scenario Professor Burbage had imparted in Muggle Studies. (For the sake of the nightmare, a Warming Charm couldn't be employed. Lav hasn't a clue why not, the things were dead useful, but she assumes it's down to atmosphere. People don't appreciate its importance enough.) Either way, that story had made the rounds. Cold food in tins. Living on the street. Possibly in a cardboard box for some reason, although an Impervius, Softening and Warming Charms could make it rather cozy, really. Perhaps with some curtains... At any rate, Lav already saw herself ending as the crazy Kneazle lady of the tale.
So she hides here in her niche off the kitchens, eating a plate of exceedingly rare beef, practically mooing, wondering what would attract more notice, her meal or her ravaged face had she joined the others in the Great Hall. If she times it right, she can get back to her room before dinner is over and hide behind the curtains of her bed. That should get her through to tomorrow morning.
She's just not sure what she'll do then...
She's been practising for all she's worth, glamouring up a storm. It never seems to be good enough, to hide the extensive damage... She doesn't stop even as she sits there now, casting absently again and again...
Which is when she's interrupted.
"Hey, Lav. What are you doing here?"
The voice is far too familiar for comfort.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron had Apparated back to Hogwarts in an attempt to avoid the reporters and the crush of fans. (Mostly Harry's, as luck would have it. 'Boy-Who-Lived', yet again, after all.) That took some getting used to, the mobbing, and the three of them hadn't been out and about much this summer to do so.
The Apparition idea was sound in principle. It had kept them from being trapped in enclosed quarters with nowhere to flee for the better part of a day, and they had escaped the reporters quite nicely in the process, so there's that. But now they'd reached Hogwarts, there were still the other students to deal with, and a great number of them seem intent on making as much of a nuisance of themselves as humanly possible.
Worse: as magically possible.
Wingardium Leviosas had steered more than a handful of self-inking quills and parchment their way for autographs, and the cameras had flown about, flashing without respite. One could bank on the results landing in some rag or another by the weekend at the latest.
The minute the trio had reached the castle, they'd been swamped, swarmed. It was just like those weaponised honeybees 'Mione had been on about. Terrifying. And that's coming from someone who had faced the Death Eater hordes, or at least that's what Ron plans on putting in his CV.
He'd seen an opening, and so he took it, loping off towards the kitchens, simply not up to all the people and certainly not up to the Great Hall. He doesn't understand how McGonagall thought they could just hold the feast there, all of them sat there happily eating as though it hadn't served as the wizarding world's largest morgue not four months since.
He half suspects the answer is she's barmy. It would go a fair way to explaining a lot. Like why they're all back here to begin with...
And so Ron heads for a quiet corner, thinking he'll pop by the kitchens later. He's all the more surprised to discover Lavender there already. He hesitates for a moment, her head is lowered, but there's no mistaking her hair - she hasn't seen him yet, he could get away clean... But something about her posture makes him stay. She isn't chasing him, she doesn't want anything from him like the masses clamouring for Harry in the Entrance Hall. So he enters the alcove, clearing his throat to alert her to his presence.
"Hey, Lav. What are you doing here? Aren't you going to miss the feast?"
"Aren't you?" she answers, and it seems a bit short. Certainly for Lav anyway. She lifts her head from her plate, but still doesn't quite look at him, her hair acting almost as a shield between them.
He plops down heavily on the bench next to her, sort of at her back, really, because she's still sitting turned away from the opening.
"Did I ask you to join me?" She hisses accusingly.
He ignores the question. Ron's not fussed with propriety or seemliness. He doesn't wait for an invitation, Merlin knows, he'd have spent his whole life waiting for one at the Burrow with six siblings... Five now. Five...
With a sigh, he replies, "I was going to eat in the kitchens. Care to join me?"
Lav's fairly sure there's blood on her lips and maybe on her chin from her meal. She really doesn't want to be seen like this. It could have been worse, she supposes, had she been turned. She has a ranking in her mind: werewolf was the worst, vampire only marginally better (but the blood sucking was unquestionably a tidier affair), what she is (whatever that might be) came in third worst, and death was preferable to the lot, she's sure.
She dabs at her mouth with a serviette, but Ron's already grabbed her arm and begun tugging. "C'mon, it's not comfortable eating here without a table." Lav can't help thinking she'd managed nicely enough. If she'd wanted her plate raised higher, she'd have used a Wingardium Leviosa. But Ron's dragging her after him and it's all she can do to grab her plate and follow.
She's having difficulty keeping her head down, her curtain of hair between them, but this is Ron, and he's headed to the kitchens. He doesn't spare her another thought as he leads the way, and she relaxes a little. The corridor before the kitchens is brightly lit, she panics briefly, but Ron remains fully concentrated on his task, scanning the food-themed paintings for the right one. He tickles the pear (the first time Lav had heard that, she'd thought it an euphemism for some act she hadn't yet encountered) in a painting of a bowl of fruit, it giggles and a handle appears in front of them. Ron takes it in hand, about as surely as he'd grabbed her, and the next thing she knows, he's basically pushed her onto one of the benches in the kitchens.
Well nothing has changed there. He'd never been the most gentlemanly of her suitors.
She keeps her face lowered, studying her plate she's now placed on the table in front of her. Ron doesn't seem to notice. He calls out to one of the elves, asking for a plate of his own, a bit of tuck as he's missing the meal. Lav notices the elves are so kind as not to point out they haven't even begun serving upstairs, and he wouldn't be missing it at all if he'd only join the rest... But he'd been polite enough about it, another lesson learnt, and soon he's stuffing chicken legs into his mouth.
"Aren'tcha gonna eat that?" He manages between mouthfuls, or probably more like during mouthfuls. It definitely doesn't slow him any.
"You don't mind the sight?" She asks, indicating the slab of barely cooked meat on her plate. 'Cooked' was generous; it could hardly be called 'warmed'.
Ron gives her a quizzical look and spits out "The sighta wot?" with some of his half masticated chicken.
"My dinner," she replies, utterly confused as to why it hadn't been obvious.
Ron swallows, which unsurprisingly does wonders for his enunciation. "If you're not going to eat it, I wouldn't mind a bite."
At this Lav finally dares to risk a peek. "You'd want some of my dinner." She just dumbly echos his thought; she's too stunned to even make a question of it.
"Food's food," he answers, once again returning his attention to his chicken. "And I certainly wouldn't mind a bit of steak."
Half fearing it's a cruel joke, Lav cuts him some and places it on his plate. If she's still hungry, she knows the elves will prepare more for her, not that there seems to be much preparation involved. (It's almost just as it had been sent from the butcher's...) In an effort to avoid embarrassing her at meals, the elves had been carefully instructed in advance as to her dietary requirements and had seemed quite understanding really. Practically supportive. They'd invited her to eat there when she'd first fetched her food, but she'd just been too uncomfortable in any company.
Even theirs.
Ron doesn't hesitate, he takes a bite. "It's gone cold," he says. "Sorry I dragged you from it. Here," and he applies a Warming Charm to both of their plates. It's weird, and she wouldn't have thought of it, but it warms her food without rendering it more well done. It hadn't occurred to her that it doesn't actually cook things.
She's tries not to think about why it might be the case, but practically raw and warm? Such an improvement. She digs in with relish and something that could have been a feral growl. "See?" He says, pride clear in his tone. "Better isn't it? Learnt a few things while camping last year."
Soon they're eating together as though it were normal, her plate is empty and an elf appears beside them asking, "Would Missy be liking more?"
Ron answers for her. "Yes, please." She smiles a little shyly, but when it arrives she cuts off half to give to him, and they continue their meal.
They don't speak until they're finished, but that's never taken Ron long, and since the battle, well, meat doesn't hang about her plate for any great length of time either. "How did you rate steak?" He asks.
She stares at him in disbelief. "The werewolf attack," she prods his clearly addled brian. "Dietary changes are all part and parcel of the joys of the aftereffects."
"Oh, yeah. Bill has that. Murder on the household budget all that meat, but he's made a few connections. Let me know if you want me to get their names for you."
Lav blinks, taken aback. She'd forgotten about his brother, that he was in much the same situation. "Well, not so long as I'm at school, obviously, but I guess you're right." Goodness knows, her mum had complained about the bills on more than one occasion this summer. "That could help once I've graduated."
"You should try for an apprenticeship with board included," he suggests. It had never crossed her mind, but somehow it isn't surprising that Ron had thought of it. It's a very good suggestion.
"Are there a lot of those?"
"More than you'd think. And the rest are sometimes open for negotiation. That's the biggest drawback to the Auror programme, only lunches are included, but if you plan it right, that can carry you for most of your daily requirement. Until you're earning real Galleons, and not just apprentice's pay... Well, every Knut counts," he shrugs. The longer they talk, the more comfortable she grows. The fact he never reacts when she begins to raise her head has her forgetting to be self-conscious.
Soon she's looking him in the eyes, and it dawns on her she hasn't done that since... Well, since May. "I was sorry to hear about Fred," she tells him quietly.
"Yeah," he deflates in front of her, the impact of that loss clearly etched on his face. "Sorry I never got in touch while you were at St. Mungo's. The situation at home... Fred..."
"Oh, of course not. Don't worry about it. I understand perfectly." She's gotten good, frighteningly so, at lip service, making appeasing noises that have nothing to do with how she feels, eager to avoid yet another vulnerability. But she has to admit, she hadn't allowed anyone to come see her, not even 'Vati. She hadn't taken a single Floo call, or even read any owls. In fact, if he hadn't said as much, she'd never have known he hadn't tried to get in touch.
She tries to decide if she really doesn't mind that he hadn't, regardless what she'd said.
It strikes her that it isn't easy to answer.
Most people who had seen her shortly after the attack had looked at her with such pity... She'd hated it. But Ron, here and now, he's treating her just like normal. She vastly prefers this, and she doesn't know if it would have been possible in the months prior.
"They did a great job on you, though," he says and she blanches, desperate for him not to go there. "You can't tell you'd been attacked at all."
Lav sits there, barely breathing, trying to parse what he'd just said. It dawns on her that it wasn't 'pretty good for someone run through the mincer' or 'not half ugly' or something like that, but that he didn't seem to think it was visible at all. Sure, objectively her face wasn't as badly mauled as her chest, but it had mattered so much more. And, yeah, she hasn't seen herself in a mirror in months. If she didn't know the Charms for her makeup by heart, she'd have been in a real bind. And it's possible, just possible, that all of her practice on the Glamours had done some good...
She sits a little taller, shifts her hair behind her ears, exposing her face (and her soul) to his scrutiny, and dares to ask, "Do you really think so?"
Ron chuckles. "I'm not exactly known for my subtlety."
And she laughs.
It's true, he isn't and, Merlin, it wasn't even funny, except it is. Shockingly so.
It occurs to her, this may be the first time she's laughed since before the battle, and there hadn't really been all that much to laugh about last year. Once she starts, she has a hard time stopping. So she sits there holding her sides and laughing until her ribs hurt, and it's so darn funny the sight of her trying to hold it in, that soon Ron joins in until they're both falling about the table.
She wipes a tear from her eyes when she finally gets herself back under control, trying to catch her breath. "Thanks. I think I really needed that."
Godric, he hasn't laughed like that since... Sixth year. "Me too," he's quick to agree, and somehow they're holding hands. It's friendly, nothing more, but it's been months since she's allowed anyone who wasn't a Healer to touch her and it feels... comforting. "Do you suppose we could get a spot of dessert?" He asks.
"Anything's possible," she replies, and as she says it, she thinks she might really mean it this time.
For MyWitch, for a bunch of reasons, but mostly because she's super awesome and loves Lav. ❤️
The story is mirrored on Dreamwidth and LiveJournal.
Other works by gingerbred can be found on Dreamwidth and LiveJournal.
ADDITIONAL STAND ALONE ONE SHOTS PLANNED FOR THIS UNIVERSE.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-03 02:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 05:11 am (UTC)Thank you!!!
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-06 03:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-03 04:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-03 04:34 pm (UTC)I have a quite lengthy Drarry in the pipeline for this universe with bits and pieces of Grape dotted through it. (I don't give Grape the spotlight as much in these stories as they have, er, 111 chapters of spotlight so far in wandpoint. heh) I may need to parcel it out into chapters, but it's the story of how the Drarry in Christmas Spirit came to happen. I was thinking of putting that out come Christmas... We shall see.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-03 04:55 pm (UTC)You already know that my main ship is Grape, so Wandpoint is my haven, mixed in with lots of interesting Slytherins. In the meantime I'm really enjoying to drabbles thing. I'll watch for it, if you do. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-03 04:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 05:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 12:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 04:40 pm (UTC)YAY, I know where to find you! 😁
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 04:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-03 08:46 pm (UTC)The number one reason to ship the purple weasel. If LavLav & WonWon are together, it leaves Hermione free to be with Severus.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 12:42 pm (UTC)It's sad, but I do consider it more likely that Ron moves on from Hermione than for her to move on from him (unless she catches him cheating, in which case he's still moved on first in my book). As I can't see them ever being happy together, I'm just pleased when they do move on. (I prefer it when it isn't something gruesomely painful, but unfortunately consider that well within the realm of the probable.)
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 04:54 am (UTC)I DO love Lavender, I find her so easy to relate to; she's just such a regular teenage girl. It killed me in Book 7 when Grayback (that fucker!) attacked her, and the writer didn't spare the time to mention her again.
You've told this story with such realness. Of course she believes she is disfigured and only fit for the circus. I think anyone would feel that way. It's heartbreaking that she thinks she's lost her beauty. And so incredibly sweet and wonderful that Ron, good egg that he is, treats her as if nothing has changed. Well, nothing except I think he is no doubt pleased that she now has an appetite to match his! His kindness and sweet regular-guy-ness gets her to begin to believe that she's still herself. I can just picture a couple of house elves in the corner, smiling at one another and clinking their Butterbeers together as they watch Ron and Lav laugh and heal.
Also! I loved little firstie!Lav who missed her rabbit! and calorie-free!Gaston :D and 'tickling the pear' (I have a feeling that before too long, Lavender and WonWon will further their educations by experimenting with various naughty acts that might best describe that phrase...) :D
And of course Ron would be fine with blue steak! and that he wouldn't be put off by her, because he knows Bill is still Bill.
Lady, you made my day. Thank you so much for not only thinking of me as I braved the lions' den today, but for taking the time to put your wonderfully entertaining words to paper and creating something that I will always treasure. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
xoxoxoyourwitch
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 01:23 pm (UTC)(** For example, the dead (on the good guys' side) are fifty PLUS the people Harry mentions, and then it's unclear if Snape's in the count. And yet people bang on about the 'fallen fifty'. "They moved Voldemort's body and laid it in a chamber off the Hall, away from the bodies of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey, and fifty others who died fighting him." That's at least fifty four. Those are just the ones *there*, not the death count in total. And it doesn't begin to touch on the complicated issue of people like Crabbe (1) case specific, no body, but more importantly 2) evil at the end there...), but he's still the guy you've sat next to in class for the last six/seven years...)
I really wasn't sure you'd like this. (*chews nails*) So, I'm super (super, *super*) relieved you did, and thanks so much for the kind words. 😘 (I was a bit nervous.)
Let's face it, I didn't take Lav at her best moment, but at one of her worst. It's not fluffy, and *is* a bit angsty. But I figured if I can keep the characters' canonical shortcomings and *not* change the worst that had happened to them, and somehow still come out with something sort of positive, then I've got us (and them) covered. (In my own twisted way, that's actually the most positive thing I can think of. Even at their lowest, they have something to offer.) Both of them have strengths that frequently go unrecognised. Ron particularly (*spit take* yes, *I* typed that), because he insists on wasting them in inappropriate ways. But what if he used them for good for once?
Anyway, story aside, you were on my thoughts and I wanted to send some good energy your way, and that's all that really counts. (The rest is just a bonus. 😉) ❤️ (Now sally forth and conquer! *hugs*)
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-09 05:22 am (UTC)No, maybe you didn't show Lav in her best light, but then I don't think that JKR did either. She was painted very one-dimensionally and like every teenage girl, I'm sure she had a lot more going on than what one sees on the surface. I do like her a lot, she is just so regular and behaves so normally. That is what I like about Ron as well. He acts more like a normal teenage boy than anyone else in the books. (Dudley is close, lol)
So, that said, maybe you DID show Lav in her best light. She's been brave for a long time now, and frustrating as all the medical issues are, she is doing the best she can. She's there, regardless of all the compelling reasons, she didn't have to go back to school. And she gives herself the out of not taking the train, the out of not eating with the other kids. And she allows herself to relax and be who she is - and that's not nuthin. It's wonderful.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 05:35 am (UTC)LOVE the Gaston/no calories bit, too.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 03:56 pm (UTC)Yeah, Gaston gets mentioned a couple of times in wandpoint, including Ron's worst dining experience (chapter 72), so I figured I'd give Gaston a cameo. (I mean, you never really hear how Lav dealt with the heartbreak of sixth year, so...)
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 05:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-03-05 02:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 07:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 03:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-04 08:50 pm (UTC)"They did a great job on you, though," he says and she blanches, desperate for him not to go there. "You can't tell you'd been attacked at all." Ron is certainly much more caring... surviving a war changes everything and everyone.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-06 09:56 am (UTC)MW likes Lav for her everywoman/ ordinariness, and I think there are moments when it's nice to take a look at those characters, the people on the fringe, just going about their lives. Sometimes it's heroic just mastering the day to day.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-05 11:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-06 10:53 am (UTC)Ron isn't in a great place in this series, after the loss of Fred, and he makes a hash of things from time to time (like in the first story, 'christmas spirit' (told mostly from the Bloody Baron's POV), where Ron's prejudices also come into play; I extrapolated from his anti-werewolf prejudice in the books), but even still, when seen in the right light, given the right *chance*, he has something to offer and can make a real difference, like here. (Conversely, being able to help Lav could ultimately make a difference for *him*...) (It was important for me to show what Ron was doing here, because the same scene taken from Harry's and Hermione's standpoint is decidedly less favourable for him, but then that's only half the story...)
Anyway, the background theme of this series of short stories is about healing, figuring out who you are, what you want and becoming happy by acting on it once you finally stop worrying about what everyone else thinks. It also tries to give different characters a voice from time to time, and show that despite flaws (everyone has them), they *all* have things going for them. (Hopefully with a spot of humour while I'm about it... 😉) With a bit of luck, that should become evident in little snippets. (If you let me know just how Ron-centric you are, I can let you know when 'safe' stuff comes up.)
As for other stories:
'lucius' zebras' Draco and his family plan his engagement party, mostly humorous; in this series
'milestone' Severus retires from Hogwarts after 25 years, bittersweet but ultimately positive; not in this series, but it just as easily could be
Ron isn't in either of those, but then there's also no negativity directed his way.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-01-08 05:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-03-05 02:15 am (UTC)Lavender gets more hope in this AU in a short (by my standards... lol) cycle of stories (3 done so far) that eventually connect back up to the other characters. She deserves a happy end. "life goes on" (LJ / DW), "out with the old" (LJ / DW), and "in with the new" (LJ / DW).
(no subject)
Date: 2021-03-01 03:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-03-05 02:16 am (UTC)