Scar Tissue
The fire glows a bright orange, and for a second, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Something so bright burning so strong, when everyone, everything around it is so dull, so weak. And it reminded me of, well me. What I used to be and what I am now couldn't be more different. Playing back memories, I remember what it was like to be Lavender Brown: Bitch of Gryffindor. Or how I felt walking into Hogwarts as a first year. Or how strange it was to stand before a Death Eater and fight them with everything I had, risking my life for the greater good. And I tried so hard to make everyone feel something, whether it was anger, happiness, laughter, love, fury...it was better than this numbness everyone had.
So I sit here in the Gryffindor common room, just waiting for someone to come down from the dorms. Here I am, one of the many seventh years from last year, repeating my final year. No one comes down, but I suppose everyone's out in the Great Hall, listening to the names of the dead and gone on both sides of the war. I don't want to go down there. I don't want to listen to the names of the dead. It's bad luck, or at least that's what Trelawney says. Then again, she's listening to McGonnagal drag on and on about death and honor along with just about everyone else in that godforsaken Great Hall.
At least it's quiet. Now I can think.
"Lavender?" Seamus's sharp accent couldn't be more annoying. I look to Seamus, who was sitting on the steps that led to the boy's dormitories. He was dressed in bright red sweats that had the Lion embroidered on the side of the left leg and a plain white shirt. He had a look of despondency etched on his rugged face, and seemed disappointed.
"Yeah, it's me." I turned my face away from Seamus, hiding my horrid scars from my once close friend.
"Don't." His voice was gruff and harsh. I wanted to look at him then, to see what his eyes said. But I can't risk it. I don't want another person to look at me with disgust, not again.
"Go away," I snap at him, but yet I want him to stay. At the same time, I don't want him to see my face. My entire left half is scarred and scratched. Why would I want him to see half a monster?
"It'll heal, you know."
"Scar tissue never repairs itself to be the same again," I hiss at him, staring into the fire while fumbling with the sofa's threads. The fire begins to die, and I feel the warmth quickly escaping.
"I'm not talking about your face," Seamus says, half-whispering.
Despite my intent to not look back, I do. He's gone now, but I still sit in the same spot.
When nightfall comes, I ignore the looks of fear from the new first years and disgust from my fellow seventh years. I sneak away to back corridor, because I know whats there. The Mirror of Erised is cracked and smeared. For the first time, I look into the glass, half-expecting my face to be of a werewolf. Instead I see a beautiful face; me, with shining brown eyes and a flawless face. I step back to reminisce my old face. As usual, the back corridor is wet from rain and faulty pipes. The splash of filthy water onto my leg alerts me, causing a momentary shriek to emit from my lips. Looking down to rub off the water, I see my true reflection.
I'm half a monster, half beautiful.
I'm not sure if I'll ever heal again.
A/n: Am I angsty or what? Haha x) Review! (don't favorite without reviewing please.) This is a response to EveryShadeOfDeath's character and scene challenge at the HPFC forum! Loved the challenge, never wrote Lavender before. Huh.
Reviews are love!