Here's chapter two of world made new. This one's Lavender's. I'm not sure who the other three will be—I'm trying to do one from each house, and I think I'm going to do Susan Bones and Hannah…or maybe Sally-Anne Perks. I don't know. But enjoy. The title is from the Sum 41 song "With Me."
i.
bleed my heart out
It's hard being a werewolf, period, Lavender reflects, before the war or after. It's not something anyone can tell just by looking at you, of course, but sometimes it just seems so plain to her she wonders how anybody can not see it.
That's not the hardest part by the least. The transformations trump the embarrassment easily. And it's not even just the pain—the feeling that she's ripping her own body inside, twisting and flipping and jerking keeping in time with the agonizing spasms—it's the feeling of having no control whatsoever. Lavender doesn't know whether she'd be able to stop herself, even if she wanted to kill someone. Her best friend.
But that's one thing she doesn't have to worry about, because Parvati is already dead.
But the worst part—the very, very worst part, worse than the transformations and the shame and the worry—is the feeling she gets just from knowing that she's a monster. The feeling of being a pariah, an outsider. And maybe she's doing it to herself, maybe she's hiding herself away, but it's the only way to keep them safe. To keep them all safe. Really, why does her pleasure mean so much more than other peoples' lives? She's seen enough death to last her for eternity.
She can't look at herself in the mirror anymore. She doesn't go out for drinks on Friday nights like someone celebrating the beginning of a post-war era. Not because she's too depressed from the loss of so many friends, but because she doesn't deserve to. She's a monster, and she has the scars on her back to prove it.
Lavender doesn't see how this could get any worse. It's the feeling she gets walking down the street, and even if no one notices her, she feels like their gazes are burning right through her skin. It's the feeling she gets when she visits Parvati or Terry or Ernie's grave.
But the most awful feeling of all is when envy sears through her when staring at the engraved gray stones—that could have been her, dead and decaying in the ground, and from where she's standing, the option looks preferable.
And then she starts to cry because, really, she's a selfish, weak-minded little girl wrapped up in a woman's scarred body.
ii.
Lavender turns down Hannah's offer to work at the Leaky, because it involves too much face-to-face interaction. Hi hello how's your evening what would you like okay that's five galleons two sickles thank you come again—she doesn't think she can take it. Putting on a cheerful front is Hannah's place, not hers.
So she gets a job as a secretary. Typing and taking notes and copying and organizing and licking stamps—it's boring enough to put a person to sleep, but it's easy. Rehearsed. Every day is the same. No surprises, no person-to-person, face-to-face.
Or, it is until Seamus Finnigan becomes the new Juriswizard intern. When he first walks into the door, Lavender is curious—she peers out of her cubicle to get a closer look at him, squinting because he just looks so familiar, and then he talks, and it's that Irish accent that whispered sweet nothings into her ear the night of the Yule Ball—
She freezes like a rabbit and then bolts, pulling back inside on her rolling chair and shuffling off into the corner, praying that he won't notice her. Like she could be so lucky.
Of course, in that next minute, he's peering over the top—he's grown quite exceptionally—of her cubicle and saying, "Lavender?"
And she's swearing under her breath and turning around and putting on a fake smile and saying, "Seamus!" with equally fake enthusiasm.
"I haven't seen you since…" he brushes hair out of his eyes, "well, you know."
She nods. She knows.
"How about getting a drink tonight? After work?"
Before thinking, she blurts out, "Yes!" because a drink with an old friend is what she's been dying for—for a bloody long time—but she wouldn't let herself have. And now that he's offering…
His grin widens. "Great."
And when he leaves, she slams her head against her desk, because really, what was she thinking?
iii.
But she does get that drink. She and Seamus walk to a small pub at the end of the block, and they talk along the way, about everything—Harry and those bloody idiots in the Pureblood Restoration Party and how bloody irritating Joey from accounting is. But they avoid the subject of the war like the plague.
Every time there's a stretch of silence, Lavender wants to tell him—wants to tell him so badly, she needs someone to know, and yet she doesn't, but all the while she just yearns for acceptance—the battle raging within her is miserable.
And so, since stupid outbursts seem to be the order of the day, before Seamus even finishes describing his new broomstick, she says, "I'm a werewolf."
He blinks and freezes, not moving for what feels like hours. And finally when Lavender, blushing fiercely and tears stinging at her eyes, grabs her purse and starts to get up, he grabs her hand to stop her. And then pulls her down and kisses her.
She leans toward him and she's not sorry at all that she said it. This, finally, is the kind of acceptance she's been waiting for.
iv.
Compelled by this, Lavender goes to visit Hannah at the Leaky. It's crowded and Hannah's busy cleaning tables, but she comes up to her friend and taps her own the shoulder and smiles.
And Hannah drops the rag and throws her arms around her, and again, this acceptance is all she'd imagined for months.
When the customers finally clear out, she and Hannah sit down at the empty bar and talk. First the how's business going good fine thanks what are you up to these days chit chat, and then onto the subject neither dared bring up: the war.
Lavender asks the question that she's been dying to. "Have you seen Padma lately?"
Hannah shakes her head. "No. Not at all since the…battle. I hear a little from Dean that he's seen her around Muggle London, but I haven't seen her myself at all."
She looks down at the table. The answer is nothing more or less than what she expected but it disappoints and saddens her.
And then she says the last thing she expected herself to say. "We should go see her."
Hannah nods. "That's just what I was thinking."
"Well, great minds do think alike."
"And three minds are better than one…" she hints.
v.
Lavender and Hannah arrive at Padma's doorstep at eight o'clock on the dot, the prearranged time. It takes letters and letters to organize this outing, but Lavender has been looking forward to it immensely.
Hannah rings the doorbell and they wait. Several seconds later, Padma appears, wearing a loose, long-sleeved, high-collared red dress and a fedora.
She wants to ask what this is all about—Padma, who has always been the least self-conscious person she knows, clearly covering herself up—why?
But she doesn't, because she knows it will be rude, but already the evening is seeming like less fun.
"You look nice," Hannah tries, fake cheerfulness in her voice. "Come on, let's go. I can use my discount at the Leaky."
Lavender smiles gently at Padma and puts her arm around her shoulders to hug her, but she jerks away. They only make it halfway down the street before she says,
"I can't do this."
Padma turns around and runs back inside.
vi.
On the anniversary of the war, Lavender goes to visit Parvati's grave—for the last time, and she doesn't doubt this, because it's finally time to let her friend go. She takes Seamus with her and the two hold hands as they walk towards the looming gray stone in the distance.
"You miss her a lot," he says; it's not a question. All Lavender can do is nod. Seamus is silent and she knows he's imagining, like she is, how it would be if it were Dean's grave they were visiting. If he were the one crying and she was the one comforting.
The selfish part of her still wishes it were the other way around. But there's nothing that can be done about it, so she sits down in front of the grave and reads the words she's already memorized.
The sun is setting before her.
Seamus holds her hand and kisses her and whispers those familiar, Irish-hinted sweet nothings in her ear—this helps, but only a little bit.
And then there's a sound behind her and she turns around. Padma, wearing a purple backless dress that bares her scars for the world to see, comes and sits beside her. Wisely, Lavender holds her tongue.
But she reaches to put her arm around her, and this time, she lets her.
xxx
I didn't like this one as much as the last one, but still, it was fun. Anyway, review—I'd like to hear your thoughts.