A/N: Honestly, I kind of really ship Theo/Lavender… I think they would be really cute together. I'd love to know what you think!

Title: the sun shines on my face

Summary: Voldemort won, there's a war, but Lavender is there for Theo.

Word count: 1,012

Genres: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Lavender B., Theodore N.

There's a breeze. Not a gust, nor a howl and definitely not anything close to a hurricane. No, there's a breeze. There's always a breeze.

It's a chill breeze. Not cold, nor freezing and definitely not anything close to glacial. But it's chill. Just enough to make your fingers a little stiff and your breath to come out in a puff of white air.

Yes, that's the breeze, the breeze that Theo feels when he stand outside of Lestrange Manor for what feel like hours. It's November, again The fatality of November always seems to rolling right around, disappearing just when you've gotten used to it, and appearing again when you think you've forgotten.

And then there's also the sky. It's almost like the breeze. There's a layer of clouds, encompassing the sky in a grey carpet, in a grey prison. It shuts you out. It shuts the sun out. It's a barrier between his face and the sun. There's just a little clearing, from time to time, where the sun peaks through. But these clearings are far away and sparse.

And finally, there's the rain. The rain is the worst. The rain is acid, the rain drowns you. The rain can even become the storm. He's still wet from the last rain, droplets in his eyelashes, distorting his vision. The only good thing about the rain is that afterwards, the clouds let the sun peak through a little more.

Sometimes it rains a lot. That's the worst. He can endure the clouds, he can endure the sky, he can even endure the chill breeze, but the rain is the worst.

But right now, with his damp eyelashes, it's the sun that's coming to him, it's the sun that's going to shine on his face and dry the raindrops. The breeze, too, tries to remove the drops, blowing away particles of water into the air, but though it tries – it forces – it doesn't do it quite like the sun.

"Theo," the sun murmurs to him.

He doesn't say anything back. Is it because he doesn't have anything to say? Because he's to weak to do it? Because he just wants to enjoy the sun on his face in silence? He's not entirely sure.

"I'm tired, Lavender. I'm tired of it all," he says, finally. Of the breeze, of the rain, of the clouds. But never of the sun, of course.

"I've brought you the plants," she replies quietly, not looking at him, but he doesn't take the small vial she's offering him.

Now, they're both looking out, further than the garden of the Lestrange Manor, through the wards, and then the endless unrolling of the moor. Though maybe Theo's gaze stops at the wards. However, he's sure that Lavender can see for miles, and miles, and miles.

"You really should take them," she urges.

She's a little overbearing, at times, Lavender. Constantly looking out for him. But, she doesn't have the opportunity to do so often. And Theo doesn't like being alone. And she's so incredibly tender. Tenderness. Something he didn't truly know before the sun's rays caressed his face.

"Theo," once again, she pushes him.

"Okay," he says softly, taking the vial out of her hand, and then knocking it down the back of his throat. It's bitter, but not quite as bitter as the wind.

"When are you going back?" she asks him.

"In two days' time," he tells her.

War. That's what it is. It's war and always war. It's been going on for two years now, against the Muggles.

The Light side lost the Wizarding War first. Whoever Harry Potter truly was, he didn't live to see his 18th birthday. Neither did his friends, neither did his family. Apart from Percy Weasley, of course. The name is almost a curse in his mouth. Percy Weasley, the ultimate traitor of the Light side. It's probably all those who cared about him are dead, because seeing him now, as the Dark Lord's commander would have destroyed then.

But somehow, in all the horrible, horrible gloom – which he had once thought to be a victory – the sun managed to shine through, to live through the darkness.

But now there is war. Against the Muggles. Those poor defenceless Muggles who drop like flies under Theo's Avada Kedavra. Or they don't sometimes. When Theo can't bring himself to cast another unforgivable. But then he's the one to drop, under a string of crucios from someone he thought was his best friend.

And still, after that, he has to endure punishment on top of punishment. And they send him back to the war against the Muggles. To test his endurance, they say, before the rain turns to a storm again. It's a never-ending torment.

"I'll have you know," he tells her, even though she already knows, but it's good to say it out loud, "I'm scared to death."

"I know," she confirms, and finally she looks at him.

She's changed too. She's not like she was at Hogwarts. She's a lot more pale. She hair, that once was let loose and held back by a head band is demurely pinned into a bun at the back of her neck. Her eyes are duller too, like the brilliance of the blue has dimmed. But only a little. She less chirpy, less happy. But who is these days?

They've destroyed her too. They've sent Theo out in khaki, but Lavender stays, on top of the bodies of her friends. He isn't entirely sure for whom it"s hard to endure.

"Follow me," she tells him, but she doesn't move, and neither does he. "It's okay," she adds. "Just hold my hand."

And so he does.

She traces the lines of his palm, drawing a map, a map to somewhere safe, maybe. And he draws a map in hers. It's almost like a secret code for one another.

But then there is a noise behind them, and Lavender lets go and hurries away, back to the Kitchen. The breeze is still there, the breeze has made itself louder.

A/N: Written for a bunch of things at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments!)