It is, as promised, the happiest day of her life. Neville is kind, and patient, and loyal, and handsome, and he makes blueberry scones from scratch every Sunday morning. He sleeps curled around her, and puts two and a half sugars in her tea, and walks the dogs without reminder. He is sweet, and perfect, and Hannah is deliriously happy. The kind of happy she's read about, wished for, but never really believed in.
She surveys herself in her reflection. Her long ivory gown, the tulle bottom swishing delicately as she moves. The flowers plaited through her long blonde hair.
The music sounds far away from here, outside in the cool night air. Neville has gotten swallowed up by the congratulatory crowd, half of whom Hannah barely recognises. Obviously here to keep tabs on Neville Longbottom, war hero.
Hannah has slipped away for a moment. Just a second. She just needs to breathe.
"You know," comes a voice from behind her, "it's customary for the bride to have broken up with her previous partners before marrying somebody else."
Hannah's heart stops. She hasn't heard that voice in almost three years. "Lavender!" she all but squeals, turning on her heel. Her dress swishes around her as she makes to rush towards Lavender but stops dead in her tracks.
"Hi." The left side of Lavender's mouth smiles. The right side, a straight line twisted beneath a spider web of scarring. It runs from her chin right up her cheek. The white of her left eye is an unsettling pale blue, its pupil permanently blown and consuming her iris. "Long time no see."
Hannah stutters. "You look –"
"Don't," Lavender says sharply. "Please don't."
"Beautiful," Hannah says. And she means it. Lavender may be scarred, but she is still beautiful. The thin silver crisscrossing winding its way up her face is fascinating in its own right but, beneath it, she is still Lavender Brown. A figure hugging periwinkle gown that swings just above her knee, her hair tied up in a delicate knot. "Honestly. Wow."
Lavender offers a tight smile in response. "You didn't invite me."
"I didn't think you'd come," Hannah says quietly. "I'm sorry."
Lavender shakes her head. "Don't be," she says. "I wasn't going to. I don't know why I did. I don't know why I'm here." She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes roaming the empty room. "I haven't been – haven't seen – I've just been… hiding. For so long."
Hannah reaches for Lavender's hand.
"I know."
Lavender's lip quirks. "I imagined you like this so many times, you know," she says. Hannah blushes, stammering over her words.
"Maybe if – before it all –"
"I'm happy for you," Lavender interrupts. Cheeks still burning, Hannah smiles. "Neville is so sweet. You deserve sweet. And I've got it on good authority that you're absolutely sickening when you're together."
She lets out an embarrassed chuckle. "So we've heard."
A moment passes in silence. With a jolt, she realises she's still holding Lavender's hand. It feels nice. Comforting. Not like before, but not like before that either. This is new. Uncharted territory. They are lovers who never really ended, friends who never really faded. They're this unknown shade of grey. Hannah feels guilt rise in her like a tide.
"I loved you." She has to say it, to acknowledge the warmth radiating from her chest. She squeezes Lavender's hand. "Part of me always will."
Lavender nods. "I'm glad you found him," she says. "Really. I am."
"What about you?" Hannah asks. "How are you?"
Lavender takes a long moment to consider her response, brows furrowed. "I am… fine," she says finally. "I'm fine."
"Just fine?"
She smiles again, the left side of her face quirking upwards. "There is no just. Fine is great. For me. These days, anyway."
Hannah smiles. "I've missed you, Lav." She nudges Lavender playfully with their joined hands. "Where have you been?"
Inhaling slowly, Lavender does her best to still her trembling hands. Hannah pretends she doesn't notice.
"It was like – if I didn't go outside, nothing would be different, you know? I could pretend it was all like it used to be. If I didn't say anything out loud, then it wasn't real. If I didn't look in the mirror…" She takes a deep, wet breath. Her voice is thick, as if the words are bubbling right up her neck. Hannah wonders how lonely she's been this whole time. "But it goes on, right?" Her teary eyes crinkle as her face breaks into a tentative smile. "Time goes on and things get better and you, oh, look at you."
Hannah looks down at their clasped hands and feels the heat rising in her cheeks.
"You look gorgeous."
"Lavender, I am so very sorry," Hannah says. She breathes in, calm and slow, and looks up to meet Lavender's bright eyes.
"For what?" Lavender asks. "You tried. I got your letters. I don't blame you, Hannah." She places her other hand on top of Hannah's. "It was nobody's fault. The war got in the way."
"You got my letters?" There is hurt in Hannah's words. She pulls back ever so slightly, slipping her hand from Lavender's grasp. "One letter, Lav. That's all I would've needed. One word, just to know you were okay."
"I know."
"I had to ask through friends, send owls to Parvati. Did she even know about us?"
Lavender shakes her head. Hannah is suddenly very aware of the weight of this moment, how heavy it pushes down on her shoulders. She sighs, long and low.
Lavender speaks softly. "I'm sorry, too. I pushed you away. I know you would've come running if I'd let you, but I was – Merlin, I was broken. I didn't want you to see me that way."
"I could've helped."
"I didn't want it," Lavender says. "I didn't want help." Her eyes are red rimmed now, tears clinging to her lashes.
It is all she has to say. Hannah understands. "C'mere," Hannah whispers, and envelops Lavender in her embrace. It's a familiar feeling, Lavender's head finding its home against Hannah's shoulder with ease. She begins to sob openly, her voice breaking as she struggles for breath between apologies. Hannah rubs a warm hand up and down her back, whispering her own. Tears roll quietly down her cheeks.
She does not notice a single scar beneath her fingertips.
"C'mon," Lavender says, sniffing. She dabs at her eyes carefully. "Let's get you back out there. Your husband will be looking for you."
"My husband," Hannah repeats, giggling to herself.
"Mrs. Longbottom." Lavender pulls back the curtain that leads to the hall, extending her arm. The gentle swell of music washes over them, the babbling brook of conversation pouring in. Hannah almost doesn't notice the heads that turn their way – Lavender's way – as they walk in.
"May I have this dance?" Hannah asks shyly, offering her hand.
Lavender looks at the extended hand, before glancing furtively around the room. "I'd rather just –"
"Time goes on," Hannah reminds her. "This moment will end, and this day will end, and you'll miss it. I don't want you to miss anything else."
She waves her hand in front of Lavender once more. She can see the cogs of her mind whirring, weighing up the consequences, cataloguing the fears. She witness the shift, the very moment something in Lavender says who cares and chooses instead to grab Hannah by the hand.
"You know," Lavender says, taking her hand and slipping effortlessly into dance, "this isn't quite how I pictured our breakup."
Hannah chuckles, rolling her eyes. "Pictured it often, did you?" she teases.
Lavender smiles sadly. "No," she says, and rests her head on Hannah's shoulder once more.
A/N: For Quidditch League, Round 8 - heme - unexpectedly meeting someone you had been in love with later on in life despite having had to part ways with them before; Hogwarts Gardening Task 3 - Calla Lily: Write about a wedding.