I haven't had a good, long amount of time to write. These next two chapters are probably the most important chapters in the whole story, the backbone of the whole thing, so I wanted a long time to write, no cutting corners!

Bullet With Butterfly Wings by Smashing Pumpkins inspired this chapter.

Disclaimer- I am not, nor will I ever be, JK Rowling.

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Summary of last chapter: Just a placeholder, basically stating that Lavender has a huge decision facing her, intending to cause some suspense!

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Though the house was silent, Lavender's head wasn't. Her brain was buzzing with questions. Her head was pulsing, her conscious had been waging a war with itself for the last couple of days.

"Him or you, who is more important?" her thoughts taunted restlessly, day and night.

The house's silence had finally come to an end one day, when Lavender's father slowly creaked her door open, and he peeked his face into her room.

"Him or you? Him or you? Him or you?" Lavender thought. Her thoughts pulsed, unceasing, and she kept thinking those three words.

"Hey Lav. I'm going to Hogwarts to help rebuild, are you up to coming?" he questioned, while Lavender kept thinking.

The second the question he asked was over, Lavender's thought trained on the one word. "Him, him, him, him. He's more important than some torn-up, battle-worn chew toy. You need to do some good, stop feeling sorry for yourself. This messed up world doesn't revolve around you,"her thoughts satirized.

"I'm loads better. I'll go with you, Dad," she responded, sounding falsely thrilled.

It was lucky he didn't recognize the unsure tone her voice let on. He grinned and said, "Alright! I'll bet all your friends miss you so much! Get ready, I'll be waiting in the kitchen."

He walked out, and Lavender collapsed onto her bed. She had a sick feeling in the bottom of her stomach; the one you get when you know something horrible is going to happen. With every step that took her closer to Hogwarts, closer to the view of others, she felt sicker and sicker.

Lavender put on her clothes: jeans and a long t-shirt to cover the scars on her arms. She slipped on her shoes and went to the bathroom to fix her hair.

"Almost ready?" her father called.

"Almost," Lavender responded.

She walked across the hall and saw her dad. He had a giddy smile on his face. Her heart felt a quick shock of happiness. Her father was happy again, the best part being it was because of her.

"Maybe you can get better! You want to, and you will. You deserve to be happy, Lavender. You will be happy. You're going to Hogwarts; you'll see all of your friends. A week wasted feeling sorry for yourself, the rest of your weeks will be filled with friends and family, fun and laughter! You can be normal. You are normal. You are more than that battle-worn chew toy," she thought giddily.

Her mind kept shooting words of encouragement at her, causing the sick feeling in her stomach to go away slightly. She reached the end of the hall and slipped into the bathroom. Lavender turned on the light and looked at the mirror. The sick feeling came back to her stomach, and screamed out of fear.

"Lavender! What's wrong? All you all right?" her dad shouted as he ran down the hall.

"Him, him, him!" her mind yelled.

"Yeah. Sorry, it was nothing," Lavender stated, shaking her head.

Her father looked confused. "Really?"

"Really," she nodded.

He nodded and turned his heel and walked calmly to the spot he had occupied a few moments ago.

Lavender shut the door behind him, took a deep breath, and turned slowly to look at herself again in the mirror, not allowing herself to scream. It would be harder to be happy than she thought.

Those angry cuts and bite marks didn't only cover her arms and torso, which she could see on herself, but skated up to her forehead, following a path from her neck up to her hairline. The cuts on her cheek were angry and red as they held the appearance that they were caressing her cheek. The gashes looked fresher than ever. She took a finger and traced the lines up her neck and finishing at her scalp.

Lavender thought she could skate away from the 'chew toy' analogy of herself by not leaving without long-sleeved shirts on, but she realized now she would always get weird looks, always looked at with pity because she was covered waist-up in those marks, which would never leave.

Lavender always valued looks; her personality was always misjudged, so she hung onto her curls and long lashes like a lifeline. She could still hang on to her curls and lashes, but they couldn't be her lifeline anymore. They were pushed back in significance because the angry red gashes always would be brighter than golden yellow curls.

Lavender found her makeup bin and took a glob of foundation and rubbed it into her skin. The liquid stuck in the valleys of her scars. It skated down and caused the makeup to burn her face with agonizing heat. Her eyes began to water. It felt as if her face was radiating the heat of a small fire. She quickly washed it off, and noticed that she had fresh new blood on her face. Pus was oozing from the scars. She wiped face with the towel.

Lavender was careful not to promote any new bleeding. She noticed her eyelids had no harsh cuts, just ones that had already healed but stayed etched into her skin. She lightly put makeup on her eye and added a bit of color to her lips. She was ashamed of her scars and how horrible they looked.

She pushed her curls in front of her face to cover up the gruesome scars. She walked with utmost composure to her room, took a hooded jacket, and covered her face.

Lavender walked back to her father, face burning with shame.

"Why is your hair like that? And why are you wearing so many clothes?" he asked, standing up. He pushed her hood down and lifted her hair back, and gasped.

"Why didn't you tell me I looked so horrible?" asked Lavender.

"You didn't! Can you explain to me why your cuts are bleeding again?"

"I tried to cover them."

He sighed. "I always said that makeup wasn't any good. Come on, we'll talk to Madame Pomfrey to fix them."

"But," she began, then remembering, "Him, him, him!"

"Let's go," she said.

She pushed her hair forwards and covered herself with the hood again. Lavender grabbed her daddy's hand and they apparated to Hogwarts, the sick feeling getting sicker from spiraling through the air to Hogwarts.