A/N: For the lovely Laura. Merry Christmas, dear.
I.
"Lavender?"
She turns away.
"Lavender, please."
"Leave me alone, Parvati."
You want to scream. You want grab her and shake her, to tell her that she's being stupid. Instead, you throw yourself onto your own bed, scowling at the wall until you fall asleep.
II.
"The scars mean nothing, you know."
Lavender refuses to meet your gaze. She doesn't answer, keeping her lips a hard, thin line.
You reach out, pushing her hair behind her ear. "You're still you," you whisper. "Still Lavender. Still beautiful. Still strong."
She pushes your hand away, taking several steps back. "Don't touch me." There's no anger in her voice, only hopelessness.
III.
A month after the war, she almost smiles again. You don't comment because you know she doesn't want to hear it.
IV.
"Lavender?"
She doesn't answer. You know she's pretending to be asleep to avoid confrontation. Over the past few weeks, she's gotten it down to an art.
"I love you, you know," you whisper.
At first, there's only silence. Then, "Why would you love someone who's broken?"
"You're not broken. You're taking a break."
V.
You make your way to the lake, pulling your scarf around your neck to fight against the chill.
Lavender is already there, and for once she isn't trying to cover up. "Lavender?"
She turns, the faintest of smiles on her lips. "I don't want to take a break anymore," she says.
You take her hands, kissing her gently, your lips quivering with a silent laugh. "Welcome back."