[summary] — Parvati/Lavender [Teacher!AU] Her eye is caught by the figure seated at the far end of the table. She can't see much of the woman; a dark cloak covers most of her features, the hood pulled down almost to her chin and its shadow obscuring any of her face that might still have been visible.
A/N — This is written for Laura [thingstogoandplacestodo].
Beta'd by Liza and Carmen.
[1585 words]
Parvati sits down next to Neville at the head table. Students are still filing into the Great Hall, all excitedly talking about their summers, and she turns to one of her oldest friends with the intent on doing much the same. Her eye is caught, however, by the figure seated at the far end of the table.
She can't see much of the woman; a dark cloak covers most of her features, the hood pulled down almost to her chin and its shadow obscuring any of her face that might still have been visible. The only part of her that Parvati can see are her hands. Her nails are manicured and well taken care of, but the skin of her hands is a mess of scars, and her fingers bend a little strangely, as though they had been broken but never healed properly.
She leans over to Neville, and whispers:
"Who do you think that is?" He shakes his head, a small frown twisting down the corners of his mouth.
"No idea," he says, also keeping his voice low. He leans closer. "Trelawney left at the end of last year." Neither of them had been able to get into the habit of referring to their old teachers by first name. "Maybe she's her replacement?" Parvati nods slowly, thinking over his theory.
"I suppose," she says, her eyes drawing back to the woman. "I just thought … I don't know, really."
"You thought they'd bring Firenze back?" he says with a smirk, but his eyes are alight with amusement, which softens the gesture.
"You can't tell me you wouldn't want to see him back here," she says. "He was an asset to the school. He was —"
"Always walking around shirtless?" Neville teases. "Give her a chance," he says, gesturing to the woman. "She just might surprise you." Parvati nods again, falling silent as the First Years stop in front of the head table.
She zones out as their names are called, focussing instead on the strange woman. Lavender claps lightly after each sorting, and Parvati can't decide if it's because she doesn't wish to make much noise or because her scars still pain her.
Her attention is only drawn away from the woman when McGonagall clears her throat, and the usual start of term announcements are made.
"And," McGonagall says, drawing to the end of her speech, "we are pleased to welcome our new Divination teacher, Professor Brown."
Parvati's heart skips a beat, but she claps along with everyone else. It's a common name, she reminds herself, strained smile taking up residence on her face. She could be anyone.
She risks another glance at the woman; she remains seated, sitting stoically, and doesn't react to either the introduction or applause.
"Is that …?" Neville whispers, leaning over so that his lips are pressed to her ear.
"It can't be," she says, trusting that the noise in the Great Hall will drown out her words. "She died. It has to be a coincidence." Neville nods his agreement, though she can see on his face that he his just as sceptical as she is.
.oOo.
She hasn't seen the woman — Professor Brown — since the feast, so hasn't been able to ascertain her identity. She can't be Lavender, Parvati's almost sure on that. Though there is some small part that clings to the hope that, even after all these years, Lavender might still be found. There hadn't been a body, after all.
Parvati pushes open the door to the staff room carefully, trying her best to slip in unnoticed. She was a little late, but maybe if she could —
"Nice of you to join us," McGonagall says, and Parvati looks up to see all but one occupant of the room staring at her.
"Sorry, Pr— Minerva," she says, hurriedly taking the empty seat beside Neville. "Won't happen again." McGonagall purses her lips, and Parvati knows she doesn't believe her, but continues on regardless.
Parvati's attention is drawn to the woman; she has removed her cloak this time, and Parvati can see that the scars extend past her hands, twisting and overlapping up her arms and disappearing under her sleeves. They start up again at the neckline of her shirt, and the must meet somewhere in the middle, and map their way onto her face.
Her features look like they might have been beautiful once, but now the scars pull the corners of her lip down and alter the shape of her nose. One cuts across her right eye, leaving her iris a milky white, and twists down her cheek to join the rest of her scars in the webs they create across her body. But her remaining eye stands out in stark contrast the the rest of her features, and it's so familiar Parvati can feel it tugging at her chest, because she knows that eye.
The expression is different — the way she glances warily at everyone in the room, glaring at anyone who dares approach; the way she hunches in on herself — but she's still recognisably Lavender.
And she can't take it anymore. She's too hot and she can't get enough air, the room is spinning and she has to get out of there.
.oOo.
She paces the corridor below the Divination Classroom; the last class had finished nearly twenty minutes ago, and she'd been here ever since, debating on whether or not she should go up. Lavender must still be up there — Parvati hasn't seen her leave, at least, and she doesn't think there's anywhere else she could have gone — but perhaps there was a reason Parvati hadn't seen her since the staff meeting?
Taking a deep breath, Parvati steels herself and begins to climb the ladder. The trap door is still open, so she slips silently into the classroom. It looks much the same as Trelawny had kept it, though the styling is more simplistic now, and she has forgone Trelawny's usual perfumed fire.
Parvati stills when she feels someone watching her, and turns slowly to see Lavender. She doesn't look best pleased, a frown evident on her ruined features and her eyes are narrowed.
"What do you want?" she snaps, and even her voice is different, lower and rougher.
"I just — I — I miss you, Lav," she whispers, her breathing fast. She has never been afraid of a friend before. "I wanted to —"
"Get out," Lavender hisses, rising slowly from her chair. She looks like a predator; like a wolf hunting down her prey. And that realisation — how had she not noticed before? — is enough that she is nodding, backing away towards the door, before she's fully registered what's going on.
.oOo.
She's just readjusting a student's telescope for the third time in half an hour — the boy was definitely doing this on purpose, but he was giving her something to do — when she catches sight of a cloaked figure standing by the door. Parvati briefly considers ignoring her until class is over, but knows that Lavender's presence will be distracting her the entire time.
"That's Professor Brown, isn't it?" the boy asks her. "Is it true that she's a Dementor?"
"What? Of course not!" Parvati snaps. "Where did you hear that?"
"Everyone's saying it," the boy says, not chastised in the slightest. "Either that, or she's a Dementor's kid."
"Well, she isn't," Parvati says firmly. "And you shouldn't be talking about your teachers like that." Looking around, she sees that every student's attention is on Lavender, despite the woman trying to look inconspicuous. "That's enough for tonight," she calls, drawing their attention to herself. "Class dismissed."
"Don't we still have —" someone starts, but is quickly cut off by a hiss of:
"Shut up!"
The students file out quickly — Parvati thinks they might be a little wary of her changing her mind — and, once they are gone, Lavender steps forward slowly. Her hand hesitates at her hood, but she only falters slightly before she pulls it down. The scars run up into her hairline, leaving bald patches where it doesn't grow anymore, but it is the fear in her eye which draws Parvati's attention.
"So," Parvati says, hating seeing her friend so scared. "Spill the beans, then." Her voice cracks. "What've you been up to that past ten years?"
"I — Parvati, I — I wanted to come back," she whispers, and tears are running unchecked down her cheeks, but Parvati can feel them running down her own, too. "I was scared. I was hurt, and I —"
"We would have helped you!" Parvati yells. "I would have helped you," she whispers.
"I — I know, but I — I didn't want to be a burden," Lavender whispers, eyes downcast.
"You wouldn't —"
"No, Parvati. After Greyback — I needed to come to terms with this myself, first."
"And have you?" Parvati whispers, finally catching Lavender's eye. Lavender just laughs, but it's not a happy sound.
"Have I? Has anyone?" she asks, and Parvati really wants to hug her, but she isn't sure the gesture would be appreciated. "But I — I had to come back. I couldn't keep living like that." Lavender scoffs. "I needed the money."
"It's okay to ask for help, you know," Parvati says, stepping closer.
"I know." And it is the first real smile Lavender has given since her return and, in one fluid movement, she has pulled Lavender into her arms.
