[A note: This is one of those things I spun out in my head and had to get on paper. My inspiration came from the very first fic I've done for HP-a scene in which Ron and Hermione discuss the fact that Lavender was effectively an unwitting pawn in their relationship, and it got me thinking about what Lavender's perspective on that would have been. I love Ron and Hermione, but they certainly did hurt a few people in their journey to one another... Hence this piece. Hope someone likes it!]
1. Beginnings
She sees him at the end of the summer in Diagon Alley. It's in his brothers' joke shop, so she shouldn't be surprised. He's gotten taller, bigger, handsomer. Merlin, he makes her stomach churn. He doesn't even notice her. He's too busy clowning around with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, his constant companions, she notes with aggravation. They're here together with—are those his parents? Is she staying with him? With them? She glares in Hermione's direction.
"Come on," Parvati Patel is grabbing her arm. "Let's go check out—oh," she follows Lavender Brown's stare. "He's gotten pretty hot over the summer, eh?" she grins and pokes Lavender. "Comeon, let's go check out the love potions—Fred Weasley says they're foolproof."
Lavender tears her eyes away from Ron and follows her best friend to the back of the shop. She keeps glancing over at him, though, as he pokes through various gadgets and tonics, laughing as he and Harry take turns testing things. She watches him as he picks up a whirling snapper and throws his arms around Hermione from behind, snapping it in her face. She screams. "Stop it, Ron!" she shouts at him, but Lavender can hear affection in her voice. Hermione likes him. It's so bloody obvious. Lavender cringes.
Parvati keeps dragging her around the shop. The girls finally settle on two love potions and magic beads that change colors depending on mood. She hears Ron's—is that his mum?—calling for Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny—the youngest Weasley—to rejoin her and (who Lavender presumes is) Ron's dad at the front of the store. Ron pushes Hermione ahead of him, laughing, with Harry following.
He's so close now, she can almost reach out and touch him. "Hi, Ron," she calls out, nervously running a hand through her blonde curls and then waving at him.
Ron looks behind him as he passes, his hand still on Hermione's back. "Oh, hey, Lavender," he grins easily and turns back toward his mum.
Lavender's stomach flips when he says her name.
2. School
"Hi, Ron," she walks over to him in the Gryffindor common room. He's sprawled out, long legs crossed loosely under the table, as he struggles to write a Potions essay and scowls all the while. Lavender has put on a cute skirt and tight shirt that she knows accentuates her curves in all the right places.
Ron looks up at her. "Hi," he mutters.
She watches as his eyes graze over her body, pausing at her breasts—thank you, shirt—but then he looks back down at his work.
"What are you working on?" she asks.
"Potions essay," he mutters. "Fucking Snape. What an arsehole."
"Yeah," she giggles. "He's the worst. Do you want some help? I finished mine already."
Ron looks back at her thoughtfully, as if he's just noticing she's alive. She catches his eyes graze her tight shirt once more. "No, thanks," he finally says. "I'm good."
"Right," Lavender blushes, tucking her hair behind her ear. She smiles at him. "Okay. Well, if you change your mind. . . ." she trails off.
"Sure," he replies. "Right." But he's not paying attention anymore. He's back on his Potions essay, scribbling away in frustration.
3. Competition
Great. She's there now. Next to him as always. He said he didn't need help, but there sits perfect little Hermione Granger, head bent over Ron's essay, correcting things. Ron watches her—he's laughing about something—and Hermione's shoving him in the side. They're not dating—Lavender's sure of it—she's asked seven different girls in Gryffindor.
She watches as Harry Potter slides into the chair on the other side of Hermione—and bloody hell, why is Hermione always surrounded by these boys?
"Earth to Lavender," Parvati interrupts her. She tears her eyes away from Ron and smiles at Parvati and her twin sister Padma, who've appeared out of nowhere next to her.
"Staring at him again?" Parvati teases.
Lavender blushes. "Whatever. They're not dating, right?"
Parvati catches Padma's eye and they give each other a look. "I see you," Lavender points out.
"Sorry," Parvati laughs. "They're not dating."
"But—" Padma starts.
Parvati shakes her head quickly. Padma quiets down.
"I'm going to ask him out."
"Okay," Padma says slowly. "The thing is, though, when he took me to that Yule Ball last year, it was—"
Parvati is glaring at her.
Padma ignores her sister—"I mean, he was—he was staring at her the whole time. He didn't dance with me a single time. And then he got into a fight with her about Viktor Krum right in front of me. It was pathetic. If he hadn't been such a prat, I would've snogged him. Not that he would've noticed. He was too busy brooding over Hermione."
Lavender waves a hand dismissively at Padma. "That was last year."
"Right," Padma says quickly. "It's just that—I mean look at them. . . ."
Lavender glances over toward Ron again and sees his head bent over toward Hermione's—they're practically touching—as they work on his Potions essay. "That's . . . she just helps with him with his homework, that's all. She's practically his personal servant," Lavender scoffs.
She notices the look Parvati and Padma exchange, but ignores them.
"Hey, who wants to grab dinner?" she says instead.
4. Quidditch
He's on the field with the Gryffindors. She heard he was trying out for keeper now that Oliver Wood has graduated. Lavender slides into a bleacher seat and pulls her scarf more tightly around her neck. He's so handsome, laughing with Harry—who, lucky for Ron, is the new team captain. Lavender imagines herself on Ron's arm after games—snuggling and celebrating Gryffindor victories.
She spots Hermione out of the corner of her eye. She's sitting one level up on the bleachers, her eyes fixed on Ron. Hermione looks concerned. Fuck her. Then she sees Ron catch Hermione's eye and grin. Hermione gives him a half wave. Lavender looks down at her hands and waits for tryouts to start.
Ron is amazing. He's strong and powerful and bloody masterful at the goal. Then she watches his main competition—Cormac McLaggen. Cormac is big and strong and pretty incredible, too, but at the last minute (holy Merlin!), he misses an easy goal—a ridiculously easy goal—and that costs him dearly. He has four saves to Ron's five. And that means Ron's won the keeper position. Cormac looks pissed off. And a bit confused. But Lavender is out of her seat cheering. She steals a glance at Hermione, who remains in her seat, a private smile on her face.
5. Game Time
He's in the Gryffindor goal. The Slytherins are taunting him with a rousing rendition of "Weasley is our king." But then he stops a goal. A hard one. And then another one. And now they're not singing anymore. He looks confident, relaxed. He's grinning as he blocks one goal after another.
Now the Gryffindor crowd is cheering wildly—"Weasley is our king! Weasley is our king!" At one point Lavender sees him flip over on his broomstick and catch a goal one-handed, and then conduct the bloody cheer. Holy shit, he's hot.
After the game, Gryffindors are streaming onto the field. It's a bloody mob scene. She watches Ron—he's surrounded by his teammates—and her. She's there. Lavender stares as Ron casually slings an arm around Hermione. She looks up at him—adoringly. Lavender's stomach drops. She scowls. The tart. Lee Jordan snaps a picture of the two of them. They look . . . happy.
6. Together
Tonight is the night. I am going to kiss him—come hell or high water.
After the game, there are more cheers and celebrations. When Ron and Harry and the rest of the team make their way into the Gryffindor common room, the crowd goes wild. Lavender is on fire whiskey number four, and she downs it quickly. It's hard pushing her way through the crowd, but her prize is waiting for her in the center of the room, and it's now or never, as far as she's concerned. Ron's already drinking whiskey shots with his teammates—nice.
She tugs on his sleeve. He looks at her and smiles. She kisses him. He seems surprised. But he kisses her back—she feels his tongue sliding into her mouth. She hears his mates laughing. She blocks everything out except the feel of Ron's tongue. She can't believe this is happening, but it is—it's bloody happening. His tongue is in my mouth. She hopes Parvati and Padma are somewhere close by.
At some point Ron pushes her against a wall and kisses her—harder. He runs his hands over her breasts and she gasps, but she doesn't stop him. She feels him pressing against her. He's drunk and clearly horny. She wants him so badly. . . .
At some point she opens her eyes and spots her. Across the room. Hermione looks stunned. Horrified. Harry is next to her—almost instantly. Lavender smirks in between kisses. Hermione has all the male attention she bloody needs. . . .
"Let's go somewhere," Ron is drunkenly whispering into her ear.
"Where?" she giggles.
"Somewhere more private."
They stumble out of the Gryffindor common room. They're laughing and groping one another as they hurtle down the hallway. When they enter the first dark classroom they reach, Lavender is momentarily surprised to find that it's already occupied. Hermione is sitting there with Harry—and she's crying. Lavender is quite certain she knows why.
Ron freezes. Lavender puts her hand on his arm, mainly for Hermione's benefit. "Let's go somewhere else," she purrs into his ear.
But Ron doesn't seem to hear her. All of the sudden he seems a lot less drunk and a lot more serious. He's staring at Hermione. Lavender feels him slipping away.
"Ron," she tugs on his arm again.
Hermione looks up—she glares daggers at Ron and Lavender through her tears. Harry shakes his head at Ron, trying to communicate some message that Lavender doesn't understand.
"Hermione?" Ron stammers.
"Let's go find a more private spot," Lavender pouts, pulling on Ron's arm. He shrugs her off. Lavender slips out of the classroom, praying that he'll follow her.
He does, a minute later, looking a bit out of sorts.
"Ron?" she whispers in relief, winding her arms around him and kissing his neck.
"Yeah?" he seems lost in thought.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," he murmurs, shaking his head as if trying to forget about something. He leans down and kisses her. Roughly. She likes it.
Okay, then. She puts her hands on the back of his head and slides her tongue deeply into his mouth, exploring every part of it. Ron is pushing her against the wall and pushing his hands up her shirt—she freezes momentarily as she feels his hands over her bra, squeezing her breasts—but this is what he wants, and she wants him. When he unclasps her bra, she lets out a tiny gasp but she doesn't stop him. Oh, Merlin, he is all over her.
7. First Time
The first time they have sex, she can't believe it's happening. It's afternoon and they ditch Defense Against the Dark Arts to get some privacy in the boys' dormitory. He closes the curtains around his bed and teaches her the charms. She's scared to death, but wants to make him happy, and she knows—it's obvious by now—that this will make him happy.
She's already blown him multiple times, and she loves the way he groans and comes inside of her mouth-although the first time was certainly jarring. And she doesn't actually like that last part. But the way he relaxes and lets himself go—she doesn't see that side of him outside of bed. Outside of bed, he seems distracted and moody. She catches him starting at Hermione more often than she'd like. But she's grateful that Hermione completely ignores him now—ever since that night she and Ron kissed for the first time—because otherwise she thinks she wouldn't see Ron as much as she does. Even if they spend most of their time together snogging.
As it is, he and Harry are usually holed up together somewhere, studying (or not studying), talking, heads bent together over homework or other stuff that Lavender seems never to be invited to join. It's small comfort that Hermione doesn't sit with them anymore either—she avoids Harry when he's with Ron—because Lavender sort of always thought that when she and Ron got serious (and seeing each other naked means they're serious, right?), Ron would start including her in his actual life. Like, sitting together and doing homework. Or teasing each other in the common room. Sharing food in the dining hall. All the things he used to do with Hermione. But he hasn't . . . not really. These days, he mainly sticks to Harry and Seamus and his Quidditch mates, none of whom seem particularly interested in having her around.
Sometimes, she feels like he's actively avoiding her—but that can't be right. Nevertheless, she's the one always seeking him out; she waits for him after class and follows him to the dining hall and hunts him down after Quidditch practice. But he never seeks her out. He's never looking for her. Except for when he's horny. Or drunk. And often those two are one in the same.
But now—now he's sober and it's afternoon and they're going to do this. She trembles under the covers as she watches him undress. He has a great body, and he's so much less self-conscious about it than she is. She wonders if this is just a boy thing. He's already tumescent; he knows what's coming and it's bloody obvious that he's excited. When he lays himself down on top of her, she feels his warmth and his hardness. She can't believe this is bloody happening.
She swallows nervously. "Just—just go slow, okay?" she whispers.
"Yeah," he promises. He kisses her first and she responds immediately, hungry for his tongue and his kisses. When he moves down her body with his tongue, she groans in pleasure. He's messed with her—down there—before, and he's made her feel things that she couldn't have imagined she'd ever feel—and she'd be happy with that—with his fingers and his tongue moving over that special spot below—but he wants more. She knows he wants more. He wants to be inside of her, he keeps saying.
She thinks that means he must care for her more than he lets on. Because she loves him. Not that she'd ever say it out loud. Because that would be mental. But she feels it every time he touches her. Maybe he'll say it today. Maybe after—holy Merlin, she gasps in pain as he starts entering her.
"Are you—is this okay?" Ron murmurs as he eases his way inside of her, in halting strokes.
"Um—yeah—it hurts. But it's fine—just"—she gasps again—"slow, right, okay, that's . . . that's okay. . . ."
It only takes a couple of thrusts for him to come. He groans and then quickly pulls out. "Sorry," he says sheepishly. "I was really excited. I'll get better, I promise—go longer, I mean."
Lavender smiles at him. "It's okay," she murmurs, touching his face. "I—it's fine. Whatever you want."
"Are you okay?" he asks gently.
"Yeah, it was—it hurt. But it'll stop eventually. Right?" she looks at him hopefully.
"Yeah, sure," Ron replies. "I mean—we just have to keep working at it," he grins at her.
"Right," Lavender smiles uncertainly. "I, um. . . ." she looks down at his bedsheets, which are now covered with a mixture of stickiness and blood. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, red-faced.
"No big deal," Ron says quickly, grabbing his wand off his nightstand and cleaning everything up. "See? All gone." He grins and hops up. "So, um. . . . I need to go—but maybe we can try this again later, yeah?" He looks hopeful.
"Yeah," Lavender says immediately. "I'd love that."
"Great. I can sneak you up here after dinner, I think—and we can have another go," he's already pulling on his boxer briefs and jeans and throwing a tee shirt over his broad muscular chest.
"Sure," Lavender says quietly as she scrambles up and starts pulling her own clothes on. She feels—she's not sure what she feels—but she'd kind of hoped that maybe he'd . . . want a bit of a lie-in after . . . that. But he's busy, of course, and he does have Quidditch practice soon, and he needs to go. Of course. And, besides, he's just asked her back up to his room later, and how often does he seek her out twice in one day?
When she's dressed, she adjusts her skirt and runs a hand through her hair, before following Ron downstairs. When they re-enter the common room—lots of kids are now milling about after class—eyebrows go up, and she sees Seamus grin knowingly at Ron. Lavender blushes.
"Hey, Ron," she murmurs, putting a hand on his arm.
"Hmm?" He looks at her, almost as if he's surprised she's still there. "Hey, I've gotta—Seamus is waiting for me," he gives her an apologetic glance and walks off. "I'll, um—see you later, yeah?"
"Right," she calls after him. "Okay."
Lavender pushes her hair behind her ears and takes a deep breath, making her way through the portrait and out of the Gryffindor common room. She needs to find Padma and Parvati. She's not a virgin anymore, but she is a jumbled mess of emotions. She needs to talk with them. Now.
8. Aftermath
Gryffindor has won another Quidditch match and Lavender is basking in Ron's presence. She's pretty bloody proud of him right now—and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't enjoying the attention of being Ron Weasley's girlfriend. Just saying it to herself—I'm his girlfriend—sends butterflies through her. Not that I'm one of those girls who spends my time scribbling "Mrs. Lavender Weasley" in my notebooks (or "Mrs. Ronald Weasley" or "Lavender Weasley" or maybe even "Ron & Lav Weasley"). . . . Lavender smiles and brings herself back to the present, where Ron, Harry, Seamus, Ginny, Dean Thomas, and Katie Bell are celebrating over butter beer and whiskies.
Not that Ron is paying her much mind right now. They'd already shagged before the game—he timed it perfectly—when he knew that most students would be headed down to the stadium, he'd snuck her up for a "quickie." Now that they've done it more than a dozen times, he's better able to control himself, and a quickie isn't actually all that quick—but it's all he had time for before the game.
Even so, he was still running late, and he practically tore across campus to get to the locker room in time—pulling on his uniform as he raced out of the common room. Lavender found the whole thing amusing—she loves sharing this secret with him. As she watched him defend the Gryffindor goal a short while ago, her heart fluttered as she reminded herself that only an hour before they'd lain naked in bed together, tangled up in one another. He was inside of her. She loves knowing how he feels and how he sounds and how he looks when he comes. No one else knows that but her.
Now it's evening and the post-game celebration is well underway. Ron and Harry and Dean and Seamus and Katie and Ginny and—Merlin, it seems like everyone—are drinking and laughing and shouting and clapping one another on the back. She watches him serenely, sipping a butter beer next to Parvati, as Parvati flirts with Seamus. Lavender loves the idea of Parvati and Seamus together—maybe it would mean more time spent with Ron. Real time spent with Ron—not just when they're shagging in the boys' dorm between classes.
Across the room she notices—with delicious curiosity—that Hermione seems deeply engaged in conversation with Cormac McLaggen. Oh, lovely. Cormac is perfect for that simpering bookworm—he'll be pushing her into an empty classroom in about five minutes if she lets him. Unfortunately, Ron seems to notice it, too. Lavender scowls as Ron shakes her off his arm so that he can storm all the way across the bloody room to where Hermione and Cormac are standing. What a prat he can be sometimes. He doesn't seriously think that he has a right to . . . and why does he care, anyway?
Lavender's face drains of color as she watches Ron push his way in between Hermione and Cormac. Cormac looks surprised—and momentarily annoyed—but he lets himself be enveloped into a crowd of Gryffindors doing whiskey shots. Cormac happily partakes in the celebration, while Ron and Hermione now gesture angrily at one another, oblivious to Cormac's departure.
Lavender freezes. She watches Ron place his arms against the wall behind Hermione, boxing her in between them. He's leaning into her and they're fighting about something—but of all the things she finds troubling about this display, it's this gesture that bothers her the most—his body is literally surrounding hers—it's so bloody intimate.
Hermione doesn't even seem to notice; she's in his face, jabbing him in the chest. He doesn't move. Lavender can only see his broad back now, but she can see Hermione yelling at him quite clearly. Then, out of nowhere, Harry and Ginny materialize, and Lavender watches them intercede in Ron and Hermione's—what the bloody hell was that, anyway—lovers quarrel?
Lavender's stomach drops. Hermione is in tears and Ron looks furious. Lavender watches as Hermione pushes him in the chest again—hard—and storms off. Ron tries to follow her, only to be waylaid by Harry, who is holding onto his arm and muttering to him, while Ginny takes off after Hermione. Lavender watches Ron's shoulders visibly sag; he nods in response to something Harry is saying; and he throws himself into a chair. Ron puts his head in his hands and stays there. Harry sits down next to him.
Lavender can't move. She doesn't know what to do next. But she's his bloody girlfriend. What in bloody hell is a girlfriend supposed to do in these circumstances? She wishes Parvati were paying more attention to her and less to Seamus right about now. Well, never mind. Lavender takes a deep breath and rushes to Ron's side, swallowing her own frustration.
"Won-won," she murmurs, kneeling in front of him. "What is it?" She won't acknowledge what she just saw. She won't let it bother her. She won't let that girl steal her boyfriend.
Ron looks up at her. For a moment he looks annoyed—but he quickly readjusts his expression and smiles. It's a bit forced for Lavender's liking. "Hi," he says. "Everything's fine," he adds quickly. Unconvincingly. Harry looks embarrassed.
"Let's get out of here," Lavender murmurs as she gets to her feet and reaches for Ron's hand.
Ron pulls it away. "No, I'm—I'm not feeling that great. I think I'm just gonna head to bed."
"But Ron. . . ." Lavender tries to keep anger from rising within her. "We . . . I thought we'd have some time together tonight," she says slowly, keeping her voice even.
Harry clears his throat and looks away.
Ron narrows his eyes and glances at her briefly—as if he can't be bothered with this right now. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "I'm just tired."
He gets to his feet and looks at Harry. "I'm going to bed. Will you—will you let me know when she gets back?"
Harry nods.
Ron heads toward the stairs, without so much as a backward glance at Lavender. He doesn't even say goodnight.
Lavender's face burns bright red. She doesn't need two guesses to understand which "she" Ron is referring to. Harry at least has the decency to look chagrined on Ron's behalf.
9. Hermione
Lavender sees Hermione the next morning in the girls bathroom. Her eyes are bloodshot and she is pale. Hermione freezes before trying to scurry by Lavender.
"Hermione," Lavender says. She's surprised by her own voice. Honestly, she's not sure why she's stopping Hermione, why she wants to have a conversation with this girl who so clearly likes—loves?—her boyfriend.
Hermione stops but doesn't respond.
"What was—what happened last night?"
"What do you mean?" Hermione raises an eyebrow. She's not going to make this easy for Lavender.
"With you and Ron last night," Lavender replies, trying to keep her voice even.
Hermione's expression changes—it's clear she has to stop herself from smiling. "What's the matter?" she asks quietly. "Won-Won not sharing?"
"Sod off," Lavender's eyes flash. "You're just jealous."
"Jealous?" Now Hermione actually does smile. It's not a pleasant one. "Sure, Lavender," she smirks.
Hermione tries to step around Lavender, but Lavender blocks her path.
"Leave him—leave us be," Lavender says, steel in her voice.
Hermione raises an eyebrow again and looks at Lavender. The look on her face is one of—is that bloody pity? Lavender blanches. "Then you might want to talk to your boyfriend," Hermione says quietly. She steps by Lavender and walks out of the bathroom.
Lavender is shaken by this exchange. She's not sure why. But deep inside, she knows something is wrong.
10. Ron
"What was that last night, Ron?" she asks him later when she finally gets him alone after lunch. He's avoided her all morning, somehow managing to skip out on breakfast (possibly for the first time in her entire career at Hogwarts); and when she asked Harry where he was, Harry gave a noncommittal answer—something about Ron going on a run.
Now she's getting frustrated and impatient. He's her bloody boyfriend. They're bloody shagging. And she feels like she barely knows him. And what's more—she feels like people are whispering behind her back—Parvati and Padma won't say anything, but it's clear they've heard things. She's bloody angry and she's not going to let him get away with making a fool of her.
Of course, Ron looks uncomfortable. He doesn't respond. God forbid she try to engage him in a conversation that doesn't start with, "Do you want a blow job?"
"Ron," she says again, a touch of annoyance slipping into her tone. "Seriously. I want to know—what the bloody hell was that with Hermione last night?"
"I was worried about her," Ron mutters.
"Why?"
"Cormac is an arse."
"And just why is that any of your business?"
"It's not," he says shortly. Too shortly.
"Ron. . . ."
"What, Lavender?" he snaps.
"Nothing," she says quietly. Maybe Hermione's right. Maybe she doesn't want to know. Maybe it would hurt too much.
11. Studying
While she's finishing up Divination homework with Parvati later that afternoon in the common room—"Do you think Professor Trelawny actually expects us to predict our own deaths?," Parvati giggles—Lavender watches Hermione and Harry out of the corner of her eye. They sit next to each at their usual places at the common room table. Hermione is scribbling something furiously. Then again, Hermione's always scribbling furiously. She takes, like, seven more classes than anyone else in their grade. Lavender rolls her eyes.
It doesn't escape her attention when Ron ambles down from the boys dormitory—mid-afternoon nap? A few weeks ago Lavender would've expected to be invited along for one of those—and his eyes zero in on Hermione. Lavender feels her heart in her throat, watching him pause, inwardly consider something, and then head to Hermione's side. At this point, why should Lavender expect anything else?
Lavender stares at him as he leans over Hermione and whispers something into her ear. Hermione shakes her head and Ron whispers something else. Finally, Hermione pushes her chair back and, seemingly reluctantly, follows Ron through the portrait hole and out of the common room. Lavender stares after them in disbelief. Bloody hell.
"—or are they?"
"What?" Lavender asks, turning to Parvati, who seems to be waiting for an answer.
"They're not cloud forms, right—or are they?" Parvati repeats, staring at Lavender as if she's gone crazy.
"I—I don't know," Lavender shakes her head and forces herself to go back to the homework that sits in front of her.
The minutes tick by excruciatingly slowly. Half of her wants to jump up and follow Ron out of the common room and find out where the bloody hell he and Hermione have gone to and what the hell they're doing wherever that is. The other half of her is frozen in place.
She looks around the room—Harry is calmly continuing whatever bloody essay he's working on, oblivious to the fact that his two best friends have abandoned him—but then again, he's clearly used to Ron and Hermione's utterly ridiculous relationship by now—and Parvati doesn't even seem to notice that Lavender is having a meltdown right next to her.
When Ron and Hermione finally reappear, Lavender's heart really does drop through her stomach. Hermione looks like she's been crying—she always looks like she's been bloody crying these days—and Ron doesn't look much better. Ron's hand is on Hermione's back as he guides her to the table. She sits down. He tries to sit down next to her but she blocks him. Ron sighs and goes to Harry's other side, where he slides into a chair next to Harry. Harry doesn't even look up—he just keeps working. The three of them. They're bloody mad.
Lavender bites her lip to keep tears from streaming down her face. "I have to go," she mutters to Parvati and jumps to her feet. She scurries out of the common room up into the girls dorm. She hears Parvati following her.
"Hey, Lav—what's going on?" Parvati looks concerned.
Lavender throws herself onto her bed. Tears are pouring down her face now. She shakes her head and wipes her nose. "Nothing—just—nothing."
"Lav," Parvati sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. "I'm your best friend, love. Talk to me."
"He's so fucking—what does he bloody want?" Lavender sobs.
Parvati silently throws her arms around Lavender and holds her tightly.
"I fucking do everything—I—I—what else can I do?" she wails into Parvati's arms.
Parvati doesn't say anything; she just strokes Lavender's back and lets her cry.
Finally, Lavender pulls away. "I fucking hate him." Then more quietly—"He—he loves her, doesn't he?"
"No," Parvati says quickly. "No, of course not. You're just having a fight, like couples—"
"We don't have fights, Par—he doesn't care enough about me to fight with me. He doesn't bloody tell me anything. He doesn't—" she breaks into sobs again.
"Lav, he's a boy," Parvati says gently. "It's just that he doesn't know how to express himself. They're all so dumb."
"Oh, bloody hell, Par—stop it already. He expresses himself pretty bloody well where Hermione Granger's concerned. I could shag the entire Quidditch team and it wouldn't draw the kind of reaction I saw yesterday from him when that—that little snot spoke with Cormac McLaggen."
Parvati bites her lip and looks away.
"You and Padma are obviously—everyone bloody knows, everyone except me, right? That's what—that's who they were fighting about yesterday."
Parvati stares at her hands silently.
"Parvati."
"I don't know exactly," Parvati murmurs. "But . . . Hannah was nearby and said . . . ."
"Said what?"
Parvati sighs. "He was yelling at her about Cormac and how he's an untrustworthy prat—and she was laying into him about what a bloody hypocrite he is and how dare he try to control who she sees when he's too bloody chickenshit. . . ." Parvati trails off.
It's Lavender's turn to stare at her own hands in silence.
"He's—he's—you're way too good for him, Lav," Parvati says quietly.
"I love him."
"I know."
12. Hospital
She's the last one to find out, and she finds out in the worst way possible. Ginny is back from the hospital wing, rummaging through Hermione's things looking for a sweater when Lavender wakes up. Ginny's face is streaked with tears and her hands shake as she pulls some clothing together for Hermione.
"What's—what's going on?" Lavender asks.
Ginny looks up at Lavender, as if she barely recognizes her. "Ron—he's in hospital," she says quietly and heads toward the stairs.
"What?" Lavender throws off her covers and jumps out of bed. "What?" she shrieks after Ginny, running down the stairs after her in her pajamas.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, pull yourself together," says Ginny crossly. "He'll be okay. At least that's what Madame Pomfrey says."
"But, what—what happened?" Lavender's face is pale.
"We don't know—Harry says it was some sort of poison. Slughorn's office. Something happened late last night. That's all I know." Ginny turns on her heel and walks away.
Lavender races back up the stairs to the girls dorm and throws on some clothes, splashes water on her face, and tears down to the hospital wing. When she gets there, she sees that the Weasley family is already gathered around a hospital bed—she presumes Ron is in that bed. She sees the tall forms of Fred and George, and there's the older couple she recognizes from Diagon Alley—Mr. and Mrs. Weasley—and Ginny. And Harry. And . . . her.
Hermione sits pale and stone-faced by Ron's bed, tear-streaked cheeks now dry. She stares blankly at Ron, as if she can't quite comprehend what's happened. Behind her Ron's brother George (or is it Fred?) has a hand on her shoulder, and Harry's hand is on her other shoulder. Bloody hell.
And now Lavender sees—Hermione is wearing the sweater that Ginny must have fetched for her. She's wearing a sweater over her pajamas. So someone thought it necessary to wake up bloody Hermione Granger and bring her to Ron's hospital bed in her bloody pajamas . . . but forgot about his actual girlfriend?
Lavender wants to scream. But she doesn't let herself. She will not let herself. Instead, Lavender takes a deep breath and makes her way across the room to Ron's family. She nods at Professors Dumbledore and Snape, who stand a few feet away from the rest of the family, observing in silence.
"Ron," Lavender weeps as she gets closer to his bed. "Ron, I'm here. I'm here, baby," she murmurs as she pushes by Ginny and throws herself at Ron's pale, unconscious form. She ignores Hermione's look of contempt.
"Why didn't anyone get me?" Lavender looks around her—at Harry, at Ginny, at Professor Dumbledore. "I'm his girlfriend! Why didn't anyone get me? And what are you doing here?" she scowls at Hermione.
Hermione blanches visibly, as if caught off guard by the question. Certainly, no one else has questioned her presence. "What am I doing here? I'm—I'm his friend," she mumbles.
"Not the last time I checked," Lavender snaps. "I'm here, Ron," she whispers, turning to Ron and gently stroking his cheek.
"Ahem," Ron's mother clears her throat, clearly confused by Lavender's presence and her . . . display of affection.
Ginny glares at Lavender and takes her mum's hand. Lavender ignores Ginny and continues stroking Ron's cheek. Tears are streaming down her face.
"Will he be okay?" she looks around at the gathered family members for reassurance.
From his perch behind Hermione, where he's still resting his hand on her shoulder, George (or Fred) looks at Lavender like she's lost her mind; Ron's parents seem genuinely confused; and Hermione and Ginny glare at her.
But Harry intercedes, a sympathetic (is it pitying?) look on his face. "Yes, yes, he'll be okay," he says kindly. "It was—it was an accident. He drank something that . . . well, anyway, he'll be—"
Harry is interrupted by a noise coming from Ron's bed. Everyone looks to Ron—Lavender's outburst temporarily forgotten—Ron is mumbling something.
"Ine."
"What is it, Ron? I'm here," Lavender murmurs. "I'm here now, baby."
"Mine," Ron murmurs. "Mine."
"I'm yours," Lavender murmurs, squeezing one of his hands.
But she sees from the expression on Hermione's face that she's mistaken. Indeed, Hermione appears to be the first to understand what Ron is saying—what he's trying to say. Lavender can't also help but notice that Hermione looks completely and hopelessly in love with him. Hermione takes Ron's other hand wordlessly and squeezes it.
"'Mi-o-ne," Ron's murmurs are getting a bit more clear. "'Mi-o-ne."
Now everyone understands it, including Lavender, whose face turns beet red as she drops his hand.
Hermione is blushing, too.
"Her-mi-o-ne," Ron murmurs again, more distinctly and clearly now.
Hermione leans down to whispers into his ear—"I'm here"—her whisper is clearly meant only for him, but Lavender hears it anyway. She sits frozen on the other side of his hospital bed. She wishes the Chamber of Secrets would open up and swallow her whole, but she literally can't move.
"Hermione," Ron mumbles again, responding to Hermione's voice in his ear. He squeezes her hand. "Hermione."
Ron's mum raises her hand to her mouth as tears of relief stream down her face. "Thank Merlin," she murmurs quietly. Her husband puts an arm around her and pulls her close.
Ginny, Fred, George and Harry also visibly relax, breathing collective sighs of relief.
Lavender knows that she needs to leave—the sooner, the better—but she can't move. Her face is red hot. No one notices that she's even there anymore. They all crowd around Ron's bed as he continues to mumble Hermione's name. Hermione lays her head gently against Ron's chest—in front of his whole bloody family—and bloody hell if Ron doesn't react. He knows she's there; and he bloody needs her. He bloody loves her. Fuck it all.
If it's possible to feel your heart being ripped in two, Lavender swears that's what she feels in this moment. She hates him with red hot fury. She hates Hermione even more. But, most of all, she bloody hates herself. Because she knew it. She bloody knew it. And, still, she came here to be humiliated by the boy she loves.
Lavender refuses to cry anymore. Not in front of his family. Not in front of her. She gets up and stumbles backward, running out of the room as fast as she can. No one even notices.
13. Breakdown
She doesn't come down for breakfast or lunch or dinner that day. Parvati and Padma bring her sandwiches and cookies—and even pudding—all afternoon and into the evening, but she won't eat anything. She's tired of crying, tired of screaming, tired of feeling like a piece of rubbish. Like a used, broken piece of rubbish. Good enough to shag, not good enough to love. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. Bloody arsehole.
"He's awake now. I heard Ginny talking about it in the dining hall," Padma reports at around 8 o'clock that evening, when she and Parvati arrive in the girls dorm to check on her again.
"Great," Lavender replies bitterly. "Maybe I can stop by and see if he's up for a shag. That is, if he's stopped calling for Hermione."
"I'm sorry," Padma whispers. "I just thought"—she glances at her twin sister in concern—"I thought you'd want to know."
Lavender sighs. "I'm sorry. I'm just. . . ." she trails off. She's just exhausted.
"You don't have to explain," Padma squeezes her hand.
"I feel like rubbish."
"I know."
"I hate him."
"So do we," Parvati pipes up loyally.
"Why did I—why would I—I mean, I saw him last summer. I saw them together. I just thought—if she bloody doesn't do something, why shouldn't I?"
Parvati and Padma are silent.
"You warned me," Lavender sighs, looking at Padma. Padma gives her a sad smile.
"You know his whole bloody family treats them like they're together? You didn't see it. And over Christmas—over bloody Christmas I didn't get a single letter from him. Not a single one. How many do you reckon she got?" Lavender doesn't wait for a response. The tears are coming again. She wipes them away furiously.
"And in the hospital this morning—good lord, they didn't have a clue who I was. They didn't have a bloody clue! Ron's mum looked downright gobsmacked when I introduced myself. And Ron's sister—she treats me like I'm, I'm—not like her brother's girlfriend—like I'm some bloody Death Eater!"
"Ginny is. . . ." Parvati trails off, handing Lavender a tissue while she tries to figure out what to say. "She's Hermione's best friend. It's no surprise."
"Ginny is Ron's sister," Lavender blows her nose loudly. "If Ron gave a shit about me—if he ever gave a shit about me—he'd have made damn sure that his bloody sister treated me with respect."
Padma and Parvati exchange looks again.
"Because you know," Lavendar plows on, "he was ready to punch out Cormac McLaggen for bloody looking at her. Can you imagine Ron standing by and letting his friends—his bloody family—treat her like they treated me? Can you imagine it?"
"Lav—"
"No, don't. I know. He's an arsehole. He's not worth it. I know," she's crying again now. Parvati throws her arms around Lavender and hugs her.
"It'll be okay," she whispers.
"Will it?" Lavender sobs. "Because right now I feel like it'll never be okay."
14. After
Hermione's bed is empty when Lavender goes to sleep. Special dispensation, I'm sure, Lavender thinks bitterly. Visiting hours were over hours ago. But not for perfect little Hermione Granger. She gets away with bloody everything. Lavender hears her come in—quite late. She looks at the clock, it's past midnight. Hermione heads straight to her bed and gets in without so much as a glance around the room.
The next morning Hermione is gone before Lavender even wakes up. Lavender glances at Hermione's empty bed—she must be with him right now—and feels . . . broken.
15. Breakup
When Ron returns that night it's to a bloody hero's welcome. His Quidditch teammates are waiting to toast him. The girls all want to know what happened. And Harry and Hermione—flanking him on either side—can barely get him to the couch before he's surrounded by well-wishers. He looks a bit paler, but not much worse for the wear.
He's still bloody hot, Lavender thinks bitterly, a fresh pang of heartbreak washing over her again. For the millionth time.
For Ron's part, he doesn't seem to notice much beyond Hermione, who's sitting next to him. When Seamus hands Ron a drink, Hermione shakes her head and Ron meekly turns it down. He shrugs sheepishly at Seamus. Seamus laughs and drinks it himself. Good god—that fucking bossy tart has him wrapped around her bloody finger. Lavender swallows her bile and takes three shots in quick succession. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. Just fucking shag her, already.
When she's drunk enough she rallies the courage to approach him. Ron looks like he's been dreading this moment all evening. Or all week. Maybe all month. Since he bloody had his fill of shagging me, most likely. "Hi," he says awkwardly.
Hermione looks away. She nods to Harry and they rise, in silent agreement, leaving Ron and Lavender to have it out. Whatever "it" is.
"Can we talk?" Lavender asks.
"Do you—um—want to sit?" Ron gestures to the now-empty spot beside him.
"I'd rather go somewhere else."
"Right—sure," Ron gets up—a bit more slowly than usual—but she appreciates his willingness not to have this humiliating conversation in front of everyone. Not that everyone doesn't know exactly what they're going to be discussing. Gossip travels faster than a Nimbus 2000 around here.
She notes—gratefully—that he waits for her to lead the way. She also notices that he hesitates a moment, looking back at Hermione before he follows her, but Lavender is willing to overlook this indignity given the circumstances. She won't have a say in what he does after tonight anyway. Not that she ever has, she snorts inwardly.
Lavender exits the portrait of the Fat Lady into the now-empty hall, and Ron follows. Neither of them say a word until they reach a spot about halfway down the empty hall. Then Lavender slides down onto the floor against the wall. Ron hesitates for only a moment before he gingerly slides down next to her.
She stares at the wall in front of her, refusing to look at him. "How are you feeling?" she asks hesitantly.
"Better, thanks," he says. "Glad to be alive," he smiles.
"So, what happened?"
"I don't know," Ron replies. "I mean, we were—Harry and I were in Slughorn's office two nights ago. Apparently I took some love potion—meant for him, actually," Ron laughs, "but it hit me. Right hard."
"It poisoned you?" Lavender is astonished.
"No," Ron grins. "It wasn't the potion. But Harry—he was looking for an antidote so I didn't burst into the girls dorm and make a fool of myself in front of Romilda Vane."
"What? Romilda Vane?" Lavender bursts into laughter, forgetting momentarily that she hates him.
She and Ron laugh together for another moment. She sneaks a peek at him—he looks so handsome when he's laughing, like he hasn't a care in the world—and definitely not like he almost died not 48 hours ago.
"Yeah," Ron replies. "Apparently, I fell hard for her—like, instantaneously. I insisted on going to her dorm. In the middle of the bloody night. Well, you can't say Fred and George's stuff doesn't work," Ron chuckles. "Anyway, Harry panicked—took me to see Slughorn. Slughorn cured me pretty quickly. And to celebrate. . . ." he trails off, remembering the terror he felt when he thought he was going to die.
"To celebrate. . . .?" Lavender asks gently.
"Slughorn—he, um, opened some fancy bottle of mead. I took a drink—and that's really the last thing I remember. Not being able to breathe and then . . . nothing."
Lavender hesitates. "What's the first thing you remember after that?" My humiliating performance in the hospital wing? In front of your entire bloody family?
"Waking up in the hospital. 'Mione—Hermione, I mean," Ron corrects himself awkwardly. "And Harry. My mum and dad and Fred and George and Ginny were all there at some point. It's all a bit of a blur. The medication was pretty strong," he grins.
"I was there, too," Lavender says quietly.
"I heard," Ron mumbles. He has the decency to look embarrassed. "Listen—I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about everything." He looks down at his hands.
"You—you've been kind of a prat," Lavender mutters.
"Yeah, it's—I've been—I'm sorry," Ron stammers. "I don't know what to say. I'm bloody awful at this stuff."
"Obviously."
Ron pauses. "Look—it's pretty clear we're not—we don't—well, I hope we can be friends," he says awkwardly.
"Bloody hell, Ron," Lavender snorts. "We were never friends. Not even when we were shagging."
Ron can't suppress a grin at her response. "I, um, guess not. . . ."
Lavender pauses. "What's the deal with you two? For real?" she asks as she fingers a bracelet on her wrist.
"I don't know," Ron replies slowly. He doesn't ask who Lavender means. At least he's not that much of a prat. "I mean, I do know. I think I know. But I. . . ." he trails off.
"If you're going to scare every other guy off from her. . . ." Lavender mutters, trailing off.
"It's—it's complicated, isn't it."
"It's not, Ron. Not really."
"Right, then," Ron brushes imaginary lint off his pants and rises. He reaches out a hand to Lavender and helps her up. Clearly, he has given this relationship all of the emotional attention he can, and he now considers this phase of his life to be over.
"Thanks," Lavender mutters as she rises to her feet.
"Should we head back then?" Ron asks. She notes the hopeful tone in his voice.
"Sure," she replies.
16. Ron and Hermione
It seems that Ron and Hermione pick up right where they left off—before he and Lavender started snogging, before Hermione started ignoring him, before Ron's accident.
When Lavender, Padma, and Parvati head down to breakfast the next morning, there they are—front and center at the Gryffindor dining table with Harry and Ginny. Ron is grinning as he tries to cram a bite of French toast into Hermione's mouth. She's laughing as she knocks away his hand, while Ginny rolls her eyes. Harry is ignoring them as he tries to study. It's bloody déjà vu.
"I say we sit over there," Parvati says, pointing to the Hufflepuff table.
"Yeah," Lavender agrees. "Too crowded over here."
"Well, at least it'll be easy to avoid them if they're always together," Padma points out.
Lavender groans.
17. Dumbledore
The school is solemn. It doesn't at all feel like the end of a school year. Students and parents are milling around, almost in a daze, as they take their seats for Professor Dumbledore's funeral. Lavender tugs on her black woolen dress. It's hot and sticky in the summer sun, but she doesn't have anything else and her mum didn't pack anything lighter for a May funeral. Everything feels out of place. Everything feels wrong.
Lavender spots Ron's family as they settle into their seats, while she's looking for Parvati. Harry's with the Weasley clan, of course, sitting next to Ginny. Lavender cranes her neck but doesn't see Ron. Or Hermione.
Then she catches sight of him—them—on the bridge overlooking the lake. He's holding Hermione tightly. She's resting her head against his chest. Lavender can't tell if Hermione is crying. But she watches Ron as he strokes her back. Finally, they detach. He takes her hand and they walk slowly back toward their seats. When they rejoin his family, Lavender notices—again—how warmly Hermione is welcomed into the fold.
Lavender feels a pang in her chest, but quickly tears her eyes away and focuses on the present. After all, if this funeral proves anything, it's that there are more important things in the world than Ronald fucking Weasley.
18. War
She doesn't see him again until almost a year later. It's in the Room of Requirement, where he, Harry, and Hermione have suddenly appeared—out of bloody nowhere—to cheers from the tattered remains of Dumbledore's Army. Lavender, along with Parvati and Padma, are front and center when the three come through the passageway from Hogsmeade, led by Neville Longbottom. Lavender is almost plowed down by Ginny, who pushes through the crowd to throw her arms around Harry.
Lavender has heard lots of stories over the past ten months. There are rumors that the trio has been looking for something to do with Voldemort—no one was surprised when none of the three turned up at the start of the school year; and despite Ginny's insistence that Ron was home with Spattergoit, no one believed her. She didn't even bother to sound convincing about it.
And here he is. He's still boyishly handsome, but somehow, he now looks older than his 18 years—harder, more serious. She feels her heart do a little flip, and she berates herself for it. God knows what he's—what they've—been through this year. And after all that's happened, there's no way. . . . Not that it matters—it's incredibly obvious, more so than ever, that he and Hermione together. Whatever they've been doing over the past ten months, she guesses that time away from Hogwarts—and Quidditch and fire whiskey and partying and Potions—stripped away a lot of the bull shit that clouded their relationship, made everything that used to matter seem so petty. They don't seem childish anymore. None of them.
At one point, Lavender catches his eye, but she doesn't get the chance to approach him—he and Harry and Hermione are already surrounded—and they seem distracted, almost anxious to get away from their old friends. Harry is talking about finishing what they started. He needs help. She watches Ron and Hermione disappear together in another direction. Whatever they're about to do, they don't need her help. Or anyone else's, for that matter.
19. Moving On
When she opens her eyes it's Dean Thomas who's pulled her off the ground and helped her to the safety of the Great Hall. He tells her that it's over—that Voldemort is dead. They hug one another tightly—tears pour down Lavender's face as she remembers the last face she saw—Greyback—and she feels so very lucky to be alive.
She's stunned by the almost complete collapse of the Hall. Rubble is everywhere. And bodies. She feels like she can't breathe. She watches Neville directing people where to put the bodies. She's horrified.
Lavender sees him again then, and her heart stops for a moment. It's just a glimpse. First she sees a family—his—sobbing and clutching one another in a huddle. Oh god. Her eyes run over George and Percy and Bill and Charlie—and there are Ginny and Harry—and sitting on a step a few feet away, there sits Ron. Hermione holds him tightly while she cries. Fred. Oh god. It's Fred. Lavender feels her throat constrict. So many bloody pointless deaths. And now Ron's brother.
Lavender swallows and approaches them. Her feet feel leaden. She doesn't know what to say but she feels an irrepressible urge to say something. When she reaches them, it takes them a full minute to notice her. Ron looks utterly despondent. Hermione doesn't look much better. When Ron finally looks up his face is tear-streaked and his expression impassible.
"I'm sorry," Lavender whispers. "I just wanted you to know how sorry I am."
Ron nods numbly. "Thank you," he mumbles, trying to smile at her. He doesn't succeed.
She turns to go, but Hermione stops her. "We saw you," Hermione says, almost shyly—"We saw you with," she hesitates, "I think it was Seamus who got him away from you—we're so glad you're okay."
It's Lavender's turn to nod and mumble her own thank you.
Any enmity she once felt for this girl is gone. It seems almost mental that she once hated this girl—that she begrudged her—what, the love of her life? God, how didn't she see it then? She watches them together now—Hermione drops her head back onto Ron's chest and he immediately winds his arm around her tightly, turning his face in toward hers. Lavender's not even here anymore. Not part of the equation. But then, she never was, was she?
And that's okay. I'm okay. "Goodbye," she murmurs.
Hermione lifts her head once more to give her an exhausted smile. "Goodbye, Lavender. Take care of yourself."
"You, too," Lavender smiles back. It's genuine. She smiles at Ron. "I'll see you guys around."
THE END