What to Focus On
Lavender Brown stared into the mirror, gripping the edges of the sink until her fingers turn white. She couldn't get the sound of Neville screaming out of her head. He had been in so much pain, and she'd just stood aside, clutching Parvati and trying not to cry.
She just hadn't known what to do. She'd be punished if she interfered, but god, had she wanted to. Neville had writhed on the ground, biting through his lip in an effort not to call for help, or for Carrow to stop. She couldn't believe that she and Parvati used to tease him, laugh at him.
He was the bravest guy she knew. The bravest guy in their grade, really. He'd stood up for her, something she knew she didn't deserve. She'd been proudly sorted into Gryffindor, where bravery was the most important trait. In these times, all of her housemates were stepping up and rebelling against the Death Eaters in any way that they could.
And Lavender? No, Lavender was cowering and crying in the bathroom. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the mirror, either; she was only seventeen, but she looked so… old. Her hair was frizzy and worn, and her eyes were tired, sunken into her face. She was always sweaty and shaken. She'd never considered herself vain before—no matter how many people but now she couldn't deny that it was true.
People were dying every day—every hour—and here she was fretting over how much she'd deteriorated in the past year or so. The thing was, she missed people telling her how pretty she was. She missed the jealous glances from other girls and the petty glares when she flounced around prettily.
Lavender grimaced, feeling a horrible twist of self-hatred flare in her belly. She had never hated herself before. She didn't like the feeling. Sniffling slightly, she pushed her hair behind her ears and shuffled out of the bathroom, standing in the doorframe instead to look over the girl's dorm room.
Parvati briefly glanced at her, and then went back to hovering over Eloise Midgeon, who was sporting a black eye and several bruises after her latest detention. Lavender's stomach churned at the reminder of how Eloise had refused to curse a second year—she couldn't even remember his name—and paid dearly for it. She approached them softly. "How're you, Eloise?" she asked gently.
Three years ago, Lavender never imagined she would've spoken to her in such a way. Parvati and she had laughed at Eloise—at her acne and awkward gait—for so many years. Now, they all banded together, forming a united front against the true evils of the world. Petty childhood meanness had long left them. They had to be adults now, for the sake of the younger students. Lavender couldn't bear to even consider poking fun at her other students.
Eloise shook her head, absentmindedly plucking a loose strand of her skirt, "I wish Hermione was here," she finally whispered, tears pricking her eyes, "She always had an idea." Lavender and Parvati stared at her, unsure how to respond. Of course, she was exactly right. Hermione always did know what to do.
"Well, she's not here, El," Parvati finally sighed, rubbing at her brow tiredly. Eloise just continued to sniffle, cringing delicately every time she irritated a bruise or shifted too much weight onto her left thigh.
Lavender glanced at the bed that Hermione used to occupy, feeling her composure crack slightly. Part of her, as selfish as it was, felt so angry at her, and Harry and Ron, for abandoning them all. Up until now, the three had been the leaders of their grade, of all the Gryffindors, now they were the oldest in the school.
Of course, they were gone. Part of her could understand why they would leave. Harry was the number one most wanted man in the Wizarding World, and Ron and Hermione weren't far behind. Part of this was said to be because they hadn't shown up for school in the first class, but they all knew that was just a cover-up, a story for the nearly extinct populous that still clung to ignorance. In reality, they would've been arrested and sent to Voldemort as soon as they got to the school.
Well, Harry would have, at least. Lavender thought that perhaps Hermione and Ron wouldn't have… Then again, everyone knew the three were the best of the friends. Despite her rational side, she was still stubborn in believing they could've done better to help out the rest of school.
The DA had depended on them. Luna, Ginny, and Neville were great as heads, but they just… they weren't truly leaders. A deep resentment was building inside of Lavender, much to her chagrin. There was already so much negativity and terror surrounding her. She just wanted to find some beacon of hope or light in this dreadful time.
"'M going to the Common Room," she finally whispered, "Gonna see if there are any more students who need help." Parvati frowned, glancing over Eloise one more time before collapsing on her bed.
"Alright; just send them up to me if you think they need healing," she sighed exhaustedly. Lavender nodded, instantly grateful that Parvati was studying with Madame Pomfrey to become a Healer. The nurse already had her hands full helping with what she could, but there had been strict rules put in place so that she wasn't allowed to help any students who were injured from a detention or punishment.
Parvati, as well as Terry Boot and a sixth year Hufflepuff, had been filling in to assist with minor damage, but they just weren't capable for some of major stuff. In those cases, small notes had been sent to professors—usually McGonagall, sometimes Flitwick—begging for aid. They had to be very careful, but after Susan Bones had bled so much she hadn't woken for three hours, Lavender had never been so appreciative of her teachers in all her life.
As she stepped in the warm Common Room, a rare smile flickered across her face at the sight that greeted her. Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley were slumped in two of the chairs by the fireplace, tiredly rubbing their eyes while still managing to furiously whisper to each other about… well, Lavender wasn't quite sure what, but it was probably something important.
A little ways away, two fifth years were huddled around a table, hurriedly scribbling away on a homework assignment that was probably due the next day. They almost looked normal—same tired expressions, same stifled yawns that had adorned all the faces of fifth years—but their eyes gave away too much pain, too much fear.
Lavender looked away, unable to bear seeing the drastic change, and gazed at the fifth and final person sitting in the Common Room so late. Seamus Finnigan was curled up on end of a couch, two pillows bunched under his arm, with his head lolling on his shoulder. She thought he might've been asleep, but upon closer inspection Lavender noted his haunted eyes, staring seamlessly into the far corner of the room.
He'd been wearing that face a lot lately.
"Hey Seamus," Lavender said softly, settling herself next to him gently (she was still a lady, after all—the fact that they were in the midst of a war be damned). He shook himself a bit, like he hadn't noticed her approaching him, and then offered her an exhausted smile.
"Hey," he muttered, stretching his sore limbs and turning to face her. Lavender sighed and leaned forward, tilting his chin up slightly to inspect the various bruises and cuts that decorated his face. He let her do so for a few moments before shrugging her help off, crossing his arms almost exasperatedly.
"Lav, I'm fine. Parvati patched me up four days ago. You can quit with the worryin'."
"I can do what I want," she huffed, "And don't call me Lav." Lavender continued to glare at him, but subtly shifted closer to the Scottish boy. Seamus smirked slightly, daring to reach out and brush her hair behind her shoulder. Lavender felt a flash of self-consciousness—once again reminded of her deteriorating appearance—but managed to push it away in favor of leaning closer to the boy in front of her.
She closed her eyes when he pressed chapped lips to her forehead; she could remember so clearly dancing with him at the Yule Ball, laughing until her sides ached and talking until her breath had escaped her. She had been so used to eye rolling and quick cut-offs when she started talking, but Seamus had just walked with her, one arm thrown over her shoulder, and listened the whole time. Granted, she was quite sure her developing body had kept him quite occupied as well—but that wasn't the point.
The point was that he'd just let her talk. Parvati was her best friend, but Seamus was a boy, and even after she'd babbled on about all the things on her mind, he'd still wanted to kiss her and hold her hand and call her pretty.
She thought everything had gone well that night, but Seamus—the idiotic bloke he was—had been quite clueless. Lavender hadn't found out until recently, but he'd been under the impression she saw him as just a friend. Looking back, maybe she could have been more clear when she kissed him, but it was her first one and she hadn't thought she could handle tongue quite yet (god, what she would give to be innocent again).
There had been countless crushes after Seamus, but of course the only relationship she had since then was with Ron Weasley. She winced just thinking about it—her behavior leading up to the break-up had been downright embarrassing. Even Parvati had admitted so later on, much to Lavender's devastation. She'd been clingy, shrill, and overbearing.
She had never planned to be that type of girlfriend, per se, but… she just didn't want to lose him! She had liked Ron a lot, liked snogging him even more. She should have known that Hermione Granger would step in. She and Ron had had a 'thing' for years, even though the girl would never admit. Lavender had hoped she was over him, but of course that wasn't the case.
She could still picture the pity glances thrown her way whenever she asked for Ron. He had hid from her for a week before finally breaking up with her; she wished he would have just gotten it over with. It would have saved her so much heartbreak. Looking back, she still couldn't believe she'd been in so much disarray over the whole ordeal—she had cared about Ron a lot, but he wasn't her whole world. She hadn't even been in love with him, as much as she liked to pretend she had been.
Then again, last year had been very different from this one.
She tried to shake off thoughts of the past, focusing instead on how Seamus was now trailing his fingers up and down her arm, and the way he was gently kissing and suckling her neck. He bit down, just slightly, which elicited a small moan from Lavender. She bent forward to capture his lips, thrusting her hips against his.
She felt up and down his arm, squeezing his growing biceps excitedly before moving to curl her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. She massaged the area lightly, pushing his face closer to hers until his lips parted and their tongues met. He tasted like ashes and dirt, a combination she never imagined she'd like but was almost, well, magical in that moment.
"Seamus," she whispered then, biting his lip tenderly when he moaned her name back, "Please, can we go to bed?" she begged breathily. He paused, hands sliding down to grip her waist, before nodding slightly and climbing unsteadily to his feet, pulling her along behind him.
Lavender knew so many people (her parents, grandparents, even her friends) would be disappointed with her for the way she was acting now, but couldn't bring herself to care. The things they had seen—the things they had done—were too horrific to not have some sort of outlet. Parvati had given her a disapproving look or two, but didn't try and talk her out of it, and no one else really had time to worry about what Lavender and Seamus did in their free time.
Climbing the stairs was a little hard because Seamus had a serious limp, but when they finally managed to get to his dorm room, he manhandled her robes right off. The slippery material fell to the ground, causing her to trip slightly on her way to his bed. She purposefully didn't look at the beds previously occupied by Harry, Ron, and Dean—it made her too sad, and this wasn't a time for being sad. This was a time for touching, kissing, skin against skin, shoving, pushing; this was a time for Seamus. Of course, he did have one roommate left who was just downstairs.
"Neville won't—?" she began hesitantly, but Seamus cut her off roughly by slamming his lips to hers and forcefully pushing her mouth open. She responded in earnest, thoughts of anyone walking in on them fleeing her mind. Neville wouldn't say anything anyway.
He treated her so well when they made love. Seamus always seemed rough, and he was when they were making out, or leading up to sex… but then he would cool down, and everything was gentle and smooth and breathy moans mixed in with clutching hands and sweaty kisses.
Lavender felt so beautiful, and he'd tell her so, whispering compliments in her ear over and over again as she tried to make him feel good in such awful times.
Afterward, with his semen pooling on her stomach and his hand draped over her breast, Lavender closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. She'd always had issues with drifting off, and the war wasn't helping anything. She could twist and turn for hours without getting tired.
Usually, sex with Seamus would help fatigue her, but tonight her mind wouldn't stop racing. She was thinking about the next day, the next week and month—the whole year. She didn't know how she was going to make it. The Carrows had a list of ways to torture the students a mile wide and she couldn't evade her own punishment for much longer. Seamus and Neville were already injured—she needed to stick up for them, for the other students… for herself.
Lavender needed to look deep within her heart to find the courage necessary to battle the Death Eaters, but she was frightened of even that. Sometimes, she wondered how she had been sorted into Gryffindor. Sure, she wasn't completely useless; she had stood up for people plenty of times…
But now, when it mattered most? Of course she was too chicken; of course she didn't have it in her.
Shuddering deeply, Lavender slowly wiped away a few tears rolling down her cheeks. She forced herself to stop being a baby, and instead turned closer to Seamus, pushing into his body and drawing from his warmth. She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of ashes and dirt like it was the drug she had become oh, so addicted to.
She didn't want to think of what would happen tomorrow, or any time after that.
Instead, she thought of Seamus.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Written for Maths Assessment 2 for the FanFiction School of Imagination and Creativity over at the HPFC forum.
I actually really enjoyed doing this, as Lavender is one of my top three favorite characters! I never can decide between her, Ron, or Molly! ^_^
Please drop a review with your thoughts!