The next few days were awkward. Seamus continued the pattern of leaving early and staying at work late, and Lavender threw herself into her own job with a zeal that impressed her boss. She left the shop when Brenda locked it for the night and sometimes even took pieces home with her, sewing by the light of the fire and candles as the winter wind howled at her door. She could feel the moon waxing as well, and it shortened her temper. The full moon would fall just a few days before Christmas, and she was dreading it.
Lavender's family had been so relieved she had survived they hadn't stopped to consider the fact that she had been attacked by a werewolf for the first few months. Then, as Lavender started to prefer her meat more and more rare and asked about her little sister's new boyfriend before Daphne had told her parents (Lavender could smell cologne on Daphne's clothes and hadn't thought anything of it), the werewolf part of her began to become a sticking point for her parents.
They had stopped inviting her over, saying work was busy or they didn't want to bother her, and she had taken the hint well enough. Seamus had been there to comfort her anyway, telling her that if they couldn't accept that she was still the same that was their problem and not hers, and so she brushed off the hurt and carried on as best as she could. But they'd invited her for Christmas dinner and she couldn't very well say no, and so she was dreading the holiday.
Not least because Christmas Day was just three days after the full moon, and even though she wasn't really a werewolf, the moon did a number on her emotional state that she was nervous about handling in so close conjunction with seeing her family. She would have talked to Seamus about it, but he wasn't around, and so she didn't speak of it with anyone. Brenda was her boss, not her confidant, and Hannah was busy with the Leaky Cauldron and while they had been friends, they had never been close. She needed Parvati but she shut down that train of thought before it could even start to leave the station. Her best friend's death was too raw still, just like the scars on her face. Maybe when her scars healed and she could smile probably again without worrying about splitting one open, maybe then she could think about Parvati.
So instead of worrying as the full moon and Christmas drew near, Lavender instead shut down. She was asleep before Seamus got home every night, though she did left a plate of dinner for him in the fridge before she slept, just in case he was hungry. Even though his reclusiveness was hurtful and she wanted to yell at him for it, she still loved him. Sometimes the food was eaten when she awoke, sometimes it wasn't, but she always knew he had been home.
As the first quarter of the moon came, her senses started heightening. Once she was awoken by the smell of blood when Seamus came in, and instead of putting her into a frenzy like the latest government reports said it should do, it just made her terribly sad instead. She curled up with a blanket on the couch after he left that morning, breathing in his scent and letting the traces of blood fade from her nose. She knew the smell of his blood better than anyone else's blood, if only because the day after the battle her hands had been drenched in it.
Lavender wanted to tell Seamus that she missed him. She wanted to lay in his arms in their bed and feel safe more than anything else. But some awful mix of pride and fear kept her from it. His comments about her being a seamstress still hurt and even though he'd apologized, he's still said them. That meant some part of him meant them.
Work got worse. Despite her willingness and attempts to keep a positive attitude, the increase in customers meant an increase in horrified looks at her scars. Most people were healing from their wounds from the past year, but with the cold and the wind, Lavender's looked worse than ever. She tried to hide them with layers of foundation and concealer to no avail. Half the time she felt like she was hiding in the back, trying to get away from the whispers. Brenda was great about it, but Lavender still felt like a failure. It was hard to believe she was being a good employee when she spent half her time blowing her nose into scraps of old fabric and trying to keep her customer service smile plastered on.
Hold it together. That became her mantra as the days continued to shorten. Seamus remained absent, even more so after their fight. Even when he was around things were silent and awkward, and she felt like she had to tread on eggshells around him. He looked like he had been run ragged. She appreciated the thought that he seemed to have, that he was going to hunt down the rogue werewolf and make things safe for her, but his method of doing it left many things to be desired.
Meanwhile, the legislation passed by the Ministry got worse. Werewolves were required not only to register, but to also check in to holding cells the day before the full moon and stay there until the day after it, and that particular fact spurred a surge of indignant anger in her. She read a few commentaries in the Daily Prophet speaking against it, but the sense she was getting from the customers in the shop and the rest of the Prophet was that this was a good measure to take. It made her want to hide even more. Sure, she wasn't really a werewolf, but that didn't mean she was comfortable with the Ministry wanting to lock up people who were like her, only a little less lucky.
Her life became split between work and home, with the rare except of stopping in the Leaky Cauldron to say hello to Hannah. She did her Christmas shopping quickly, finding books for her sister, candles and a gift certificate for her mother, and a new tie for her father all within a day of each other. Seamus took a little longer, if only because it hurt a little to shop for him when she barely even saw him, but she ended up with a fancy pair of leather gloves lined with cashmere against the cold and a set of gold cufflinks set with tiny rubies to wear on his dress robes.
Lavender wrapped all the presents one night while the rain drummed on the roof, tucking silver paper and gold ribbon gently around her gifts and trying not to think of what would happen when she had to give them. Her family would be appreciative and cold, which was saddening but not unexpected. She would just leave the dinner early and head home.
Seamus's gift gave her pause. He had reassured her a few weeks back that he had Christmas Eve and Christmas Day both off, and he's also promised to be home for both of them. Lavender's shop was closed, of course, and Brenda was going to be out of the country visiting her relatives in the south of France until the New Year, so she didn't feel a pressing urge to open it up. Boxing Day was probably going to be dull anyway, and Brenda had said she could keep the shop closed if she liked. But with the threat of this rogue werewolf and Seamus's extra hours (and apparent lack of desire to be home after their almost fight), Lavender didn't know if he was planning on being around or not.
Despite that, she wrapped it with just as much precise care as she had given to the other gifts, then set the two boxes gently on the mantle. The both were tagged with his name in her flowing handwriting and she stared at them for longer than she ought to have done before going to fix herself dinner.
As the full moon drew closer her senses heightened even more, and she became more twitchy and nervous than she had been before. Lavender suspected it was a combination of feeling abandoned by her boyfriend and her family and the fact that she was working extra hours, but it didn't make the oncoming moon any easier to handle. As always, she quietly requested the day off from Brenda, with the promise to work additional hours that weekend to make up for it, and Brenda reluctantly agreed. She had been alright with hiring a part-werewolf and Lavender was of course beyond grateful, but any boss would be irritated by the constant need for time off, especially during a busy holiday season.
Two days before the full moon, Lavender woke up with the feeling that something was intensely wrong. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she snapped awake, going from slumber to nervous in the space of a few breaths. She breathed in to try and calm herself and something was different about the scent of her apartment, but she couldn't place it instantly.
She stood, wrapping her robe around herself and padding around her bedroom, looking at things critically in hopes they would tell her what exactly felt so wrong about the day. The kitchen looked unchanged when she walked out into it, as did the living room. The fire she had started the night before was nothing more than cold ash in the hearth, and the book she had been reading was unmoved. Lavender inhaled deeply again, closing her eyes to let her wolfish nose process the scents, then gasped as she realized what was different.
Seamus hadn't been here the night before. There was no lingering scent of his particular smell on the air, no trace of his hands touching the doorknob or and dishes left in the sink from a late dinner. His boots had tracked in no new mud, the tea box hadn't been touched, and when she went reluctantly back into her room, she realized that his side of the bed was only mussed from her restless sleep.
He hadn't come home.
Lavender was shaking, she realized belatedly, though whether it was from the chill of the air or her emotions she didn't know. She suspected the latter, but, much like her reaction to thinking of Parvati, she shut down that train of thought. She blinked and swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears from coursing down her cheeks. How could he not come home? Was he truly so caught up at the office he hadn't realized the time? Where had he slept? Did Neville's couch now have his scent on it, was he drinking black tea from some other mug in some other house?
She touched his pillow with trembling fingers, the feelings of betrayal slinking through her like a drop of ink into water. She took her breaths lightly now that she understood what was so wrong about the air, now that it didn't have his scent on it as strongly as usual.
Lavender bit her lip, then threw on her clothes and jacket. She still had two hours before her shift at work started, and the house was suddenly stifling. She had to get out. She collected her things in a haphazard rush, leaving her dishes undone in the sink from the night before as she rushed out of her flat, slamming the door behind her and doing up the wards without processing exactly what she was doing.
How could he not come home? She stalked down the street in a daze, staring at nothing as she dodged around people. How could he just leave her like that? He knew what it meant to her, to have him home, he knew, he had to know. How could he not?