I walked through the door with you
It was cold, but somethin' about it felt like home somehow
I left my scarf at your sister's house
And you've still got it, in your drawer, even now.
Snow fell outside the window. It was in great clumps, and Ron couldn't help but remember that was what it looked like when he first told Lavender, "I love you." Harry and Ginny were Merlin-knows-where, and Hermione had been crying in library. Now, about eight months after her death, it stung like never before. Ron hadn't thought of Lavender since she died. He couldn't, it would make him too upset, he knew. And it was.
The mug in his hands, filled with hot chocolate, suddenly felt too warm. His little room in the Burrow with its orange walls and Quidditch posters felt too tight. And the tears in his eyes felt too cold.
Getting up abruptly, Ron placed the mug on his bedside table and walked over to his drawer where he kept his jeans. He always told Hermione that the scarf was his; something that Ginny had given him when they were real young. Harry knew it was Lavender's, though, thank Merlin Harry was smart enough not to say anything about it. He understood. Ron gathered the long faded violet scarf into his arms and wrapped it around his neck. He sat back down on his bed, and resumed the position he'd been in before; sitting with his legs crossed on his bed, staring out the window with the warm hot chocolate in his hands.
Oh your sweet disposition
And my wide-eyed gaze
We're singing in the car getting lost upstate
The autumn leaves falling down like pieces in their place
And I can picture it even after all these days
And I know it's long gone, and that magic's not here no more
And it might be okay, but I'm not fine at all
Ron remembered one particular make-out scene. One of their earlier ones. It had to have been November, just before the snow, and just after they started dating. Lavender had dragged him out to the Hogwarts grounds, much to the disappointment of both his friends. But, at the time, he couldn't have cared less. Red, gold, brown, and amber leaves, even a few green left over from summer, littered the green, green grass, crunching beneath their feet. Lavender had leaned against the willow tree, simply begging for a kiss.
Harry had later told him that was where the Marauders had bullied Snape into crying, "Mudblood!" though why Ron recalled that now, he didn't know. The sun had been setting, and wind blew roughly against their clothes. Ron could see Lavender's underclothing, and there hadn't been much. Some leaves fluttered down, getting tangled in their hair, between them, and under their feet as they kissed with a passion that made Ron surprise himself.
Now he kissed Hermione that way, and he wondered why he'd ever been kissing Lavender when he had never really loved her. He told himself he did, and he told Lavender he did, but telling himself lies didn't make them true. Otherwise, he'd have told himself that the war had never, ever happened.
The only thing he told himself now, though, was that he was too cold, and he wanted to be alone. Ron blinked, continuing to watch the falling snowflakes. He shifted his bottom slightly on his bed, then moved it back, to where it was warmer. Ron faintly registered the clinking of pots and pans in the kitchen below. Dinner would be ready soon.
'Cause here we are again on that little town street
You almost ran the red 'cause you were looking over at me
Wind in my hair, I remember it All Too Well
He and Lavender had gone to Hogsmeade only once. He kind of regretted it now, they had had an awful lot of fun, and Lavender was a wonderful girl. At least, she had been, before Greyback ate her alive. Ron wished, for a moment, that she was there now, so that he could bring her back, and buy her something nice, to say, goodbye. He never really got that chance, another thing he regretted.
Lavender had brown, curly hair that he had loved to run his fingers through, and that the wind made only ever so more beautiful. Ron also recalled her beautiful blue eyes, so full of life, even when she was about to die. When they had gone blank, when her small hand with slender fingers and manicured pink nails had gone slack in Ron's grip, he knew that Lavender had left a void in his heart that would never be filled. There were a lot of voids, now. But hers was one of the stronger ones.
It wasn't like they had been friends during their earlier years, but she had always been there, forever an existing presence that always knew when to leave you alone to come to your aid. Ron was clumsy, and had a craving for danger and action, and cared for his family and friends more than anything. He had always wondered what, exactly, made that so full-of-life girl fall in love with him. She had died in love with him.
Photo album on the counter
Your cheeks are turning red
You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed
And your mother's telling stories about you on the t-ball team
You told me about your past, thinking your future was me
Ron had seen Lavender's pictures of her family. He had only met the Browns once, and that was at her funeral. Her mother just kept on talking, retelling stories and getting confused on some parts and missing others, and getting hung up on useless details of Lavender's life of eighteen years. He remembered how sorry he had felt for the woman, and how pathetic she seemed. The next day had been for Fred, then the Lupins, then for one of his old friends Colin Creevy. Lavender hadn't been family, and he had bottled everything up on her funeral day, even though he had cried. When Fred, the Lupins and Colin's funerals were passed, Mrs. Brown didn't seem so pathetic anymore.
He met with Mrs. Brown, and saw Lavender in her. Her burning red cheeks in the cold, and her soft eyes full of tears, like on the day he and Lavender broke up. Ron felt the tears he hadn't cried then well up in his eyes now, and he thanked Merlin that nobody could see him. Hermione wouldn't come in, not while she was busy with her parents, and Harry had that special male-to-male bond with Ron that said, "I know when you need to be left alone. And it's okay."
And I know it's long gone, and there was nothing else I could do
And I forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to
Cause here we are again in the middle of the night
We're dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light
Down the stairs, I was there, I remember it All Too Well, yeah
Ron felt that he was the pathetic one now, not Lavender's mother. Here he was, dressed in a dark blue turtleneck and ripped blue jeans with Lavender's old scarf wrapped around his neck and hot chocolate in his hands, crying while he stared at snow. Ron bent his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to quell the tears.
Tears quelled but still staining his cheeks, Ron looked at his watch. 9:00 pm. Wonderful. Ron sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do, about his mother's late dinner or Lavender. He had pushed her to the back of his mind for so long that to think of her again now was just too painful. But memories, old ones that he had forgotten, rushed to the front of his mind.
There was one time that Ron had taken Lavender to the kitchens in the early hours of dawn, long before classes, simply because she wanted to go. The two of them had ended up play dancing around, avoiding house elves while laughing and crying tears of mirth for no reason at all. One of those nights that meant the most, and Ron wondered why he had forgotten it.
And maybe we got lost in translation
Maybe I asked for too much
But maybe this thing was a masterpiece
´till you tore it all up
Running scared, I was there, I remember it All Too Well
For a moment, after he regained control of his wildly running emotions, Ron wondered what would've happened had he not broken up with Lavender. Would he still be with Hermione? Shoot, would he still be in Hermione's life? There would've been many consequences. But who knows whether they were good or bad? Maybe it was a masterpiece in the making, but he tore it to bloody pieces and ruined it, leaving Lavender running to catch up with him while he rushed ahead with Hermione.
Then he knew he probably would've broken up with her anyway. As wonderful and beautiful and magical she and the relationship had been, she was awfully needy, and they couldn't move on because of it.
Hey you called me up again just to break me like a promise
So casually cruel in the name of being honest
I'm a crumbled up piece of paper lying here
Cause I remember it All, All, All Too Well
Lavender's heart had been broken, and it was his entire fault, and he knew it. Ron had told her "forever", and instead given her "a few months", and left her. He felt horrible then, and he felt horrible as he sat staring at the windowpane, coated with white snow, so beautiful, so pure…just like Lavender.
He knew it was cruel. He knew it was mean. He knew it was selfish. But what else was he supposed to do? It wasn't like he hadn't been hurt by it, too. He hadn't even meant to break up with her, stupid Malfoy. But she'd not seen it that way. Ron felt anger flare up in his chest, before it was soiled by grief. How could he be mad at her?
Time won't fly it's like I'm paralyzed by it
I'd like to be my old self again
But I'm still trying to find it
After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own
Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone
But you keep my old scarf from that very first week
Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me
You can't get rid of it, cause you remember it All Too Well, yeah
She told him, just before she died, that she loved him. He had wanted to say it back, tell her he loved her, too, but he couldn't lie to her. Not to those glittering eyes, full of fear, and determination to fight to save her school, her home, her friends. He loved her like a friend would, and that wasn't what she wanted.
He saw that she had changed over the past year. It was like she was another person. Her nails were still perfect, and her hair wasn't one out of place, but her attitude was one of a heroine. A strong, proud woman who didn't need anyone. She was a knight in shining armor, someone who could've loved and hated at the very same time. She was more like him, Ron had realized later, she craved the thrill of running, and the rush of knowing that this battle might very well be your last. It was too bad that it was, for her.
That was why he kept the scarf. Lavender had never been up against anyone or anything than her teachers, and yet she wasn't as scared as her friends were. She was Gryffindor to the core, and made sure that, in the final battle, everyone knew it. And they did. Lavender had grown up gracefully, and died as any Gryffindor would've wanted. But when he was dating her, she was innocent. As innocent as any girl could get, those seven years. And the scarf still retained her popery perfume that he loved so much.
Cause there we are again when I loved you so
Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known
It was rare, I was there, I remember it All Too Well
Ron was her first, her last, her only. He knew that and it brought tears to his eyes, those damned tears he'd been avoiding all night cascaded down his cheeks, and Ron found that he didn't care. Lavender deserved his tears, she was worth every ounce of humiliation those treacherous tears brought on the wind.
Lavender was beautiful, wonderful, magical, brave, devoted, loved and in love. A Gryffindor.
But Ron couldn't love her like she wanted.
Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all
Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all
It was rare, I was there, I remember it All Too Well