Lavender kept up her confident air all the way back to her house. She stalked the streets of London, people flinching from her even if they didn't see anything more to her than her hotly furious yellow-brown eyes and her ripped face. Her outer robe swirled behind her like a queen's train and by the time she reached her small flat they had accumulated a coating of mud on the hem from the muck in the streets. She undid the hexes on her door before letting herself in and shutting it quietly. She heard the hexes flaring back to life with a quiet hum of reassurance.
She made it all of three seconds before she ran to her room and threw herself on her bed, shoulders shaking with sobs. She had been so scared the last three days, so angry and confused, and it all came out of her in a rush as she soaked her pillow with her tears. She was shaking with the release of emotions and gripped her pillow with white-knuckled fingers, trying to calm her frantic heartbeat and racing mind.
Slowly, slowly enough for the light outside to fade and night to fall, she regained enough control of herself to sit up. Her shirt and jeans were ripped and bloody and she stripped them off, throwing them into a small metal wastebasket and lighting them on fire with her wand. Perhaps it was petty, and of course it wouldn't make the memories go away, but she couldn't stand the sight of those things anymore. And it wasn't like they had been salvageable anyway.
Naked, she walked into her bathroom and turned the shower on scalding hot. She felt like there were still hands holding her, like there was still a wolf pressing her to the ground, and when she stepped into the stream of boiling water she hissed from the clean feeling of it. Maybe it couldn't wash the memories away but she could certainly try, and she grabbed her loofah and started scrubbing. She had to be gentle with the new cuts on her body but she washed them anyway, old blood and dirt swirling down the drain.
Lavender stood in the shower for nearly half an hour before the water started to run cold. She stepped out and got her biggest, cleanest, fluffiest towel to wrap up in, reveling in the steam of the bathroom and the hot pink flush of her skin. She got out her healing salve and started slathering the purple gunk over her new wounds and the old ones that had torn. There were only two that had reopened, two of the slices on her leg and hip. Probably it had happened when she had been thrown down and pinned to the ground... she took a bracing breath before thinking about that any more. She already knew she would have nightmares tonight. She didn't need to trigger anything early.
After she had put salve on everything and donned a light cotton nightgown that was short and floaty enough to not get too caught in the healing salve, she went to fix herself tea and to sit quietly on her couch. She got a book and read by candlelight until a knock at the door made her stifle a shriek and spill tea all over herself as she scrambled for her wand.
Wand in hand an dripping lukewarm tea, she made her way carefully towards the door, casting a one-way visibility charm on it and sighing as she recognized Alexei. He was fiddling with his hands like he was nervous and she suddenly realized why he was here. Well, better get it over with. She undid the deadbolt and the hexes and greeted him with a wan smile.
"Hi," he greeted, running his eyes over her face. She knew she must look a sight, with purple salve all over and visible gashed underneath that. "Can I come in?"
"Of course," she invited, stepping back. She poured him a cup of tea and he sipped at it before continuing, clearly with something on his mind.
"I'm breaking up with you," he finally spat out.
She sighed lightly. "I thought so. But I don't think we were anything official anyway, so it doesn't matter."
"I feel like I owe you an explaination. You're really fun to be around, and I've had fun when we've gone out. It's not your scars," he continued. "You know I'm alright with those. And I was really worried when you were attacked. But..." He looked away from her, clearly awkward. "It's, well, I want children someday."
"And? So do I, eventually," Lavender agreed.
"That's good," Alexei agreed. "But I don't want my children to be... It's hard enough being a teenager without being, well, you know..."
A sudden chill swept over Lavender and she narrowed her eyes. "Finish that sentence," she commanded coldly. "Without being what, exactly?"
"You know," Alexei said. He clearly regretted going down this road. "What you are."
"What am I?" He flinched back from the venom in her voice. "Say it!"
"A werewolf," he said, flicking his eyes up to meet hers and then looking away again.
"I'm not a werewolf," she denied. "I'm a person, and I'm going to keep saying that until someone believes me."
"You were bitten, Lavender, I can see it all over your face."
"I am not ashamed!" She cried, then abruptly realized it was true. "I'm not ashamed of my scars, not any more. I fought and killed and hurt and I'm not going to be ashamed of that, not any longer."
"And you shouldn't be ashamed of your scars, but... I couldn't ever bring a werewolf home to my family. You're probably a werewolf and I can't – I can't," he finished lamely.
Lavender felt nothing but disgust as she looked on him. "Get out of my house."
"Lavender – " he started.
Lavender snarled, rage and sadness in the sound. "Get out!" She yelled, glaring daggers at him. He didn't look at her as he left, closing the door gently behind him. She would have preferred it if he fought back. Seamus had always fought back, right up until the end when he too had just walked out the door. Alexei leaving didn't make her half as sad as Seamus had.
Still, she was angry. Just because she was clawed up didn't mean she was lesser. And it didn't mean she was a werewolf! She might be, maybe, but Lavender was almost completely sure she wasn't a werewolf. A part at the back of her mind suggested that she get her hands on some Wolfsbane Potion just in case, but she had time enough for that later. It only had to be taken the week before the full moon. And she probably wasn't a werewolf anyway.
Growling low in her throat wasn't helping matters. She was too wound up for any more tea and so she fished around in a dusty cabinet and pulled out a mostly full bottle of firewhiskey. Seamus had left it when he left her and she had ignored it because of the memories – she associated the taste of whiskey with kissing him – but now might be a good time for something stronger than wine. She had defended herself against a werewolf on the full moon and hadn't been properly bitten, she could have a drink.
Three shots later, she was having a much better night. She was still twitchy and flinched at every little sound, but she had also turned on the radio and howled along with a few of her favorite songs and that was helping. It reminded her of being innocent and stupid before her seventh year, dancing around with Parvati and annoying Hermione with their caterwauling. Things had been so simple then and she missed those days with a bone-aching intensity.
Hell, she even missed the frantic fear of seventh year. At least then she had been working towards a goal with all of her classmates (at least all the ones she cared about), even if it had been a planned and carefully organized mass suicide. They had had utmost faith in each other, and she remembered the almost stupidly blind faith she had placed in Neville as their leader. She poured another shot of firewhiskey in Neville's honor, dripping a little on her nightgown on accident.
It had been luck that he had been the one sent to her that day. They might have just as easily sent Seamus or Terry Boot if all they were looking for was a trainee Auror who could maybe wrangle information out of her. Both of them would have taken her side, but Seamus would have been beyond awkward to deal with and she had never quite been sure where she stood with the somber, handsome Ravenclaw. Neville's quiet presence and back up had given her the strength needed to confront the Head of Magical Creatures.
Lavender's growl returned as she thought about the Head of Magical Creatures and that bitch of a Werewolf Liaison. She took another shot of firewhiskey. Those people didn't want to help her. They wanted to control her and cow her with their laws and their regulations like they did with others like her. She imagined that most people who went through what she went through were still shaky messes three days after they had been bitten. And that was completely understandable – the first time she had been attacked she had taken nearly a whole month before setting foot outside, and then another two months before she had dared to venture into public. Seamus had been with her through the whole of that terrible recovery and she had been immensely grateful to him for it.
But this time when she had been attacked, she already had scars. What were more scars on top of those? The emotions she was dealing with were ones she had dealt with before and she felt no different than before. This time she was even healing faster. Those horrible people at the Department of Magical Creatures had been expecting someone who was trembling and scared, not someone who was furious at their treatment of her. If they came for her again with their registration papers and their demands, they would find her even more prepared to deal with them. What they had done was illegal, or it should be, and she reiterated to herself her desire to make it punishable. No one deserved to be locked in a room for three days with no medical care and no contact with the rest of the world. It was inhumane and wrong.
A knock at her door made her whip her head around, then she had to pause to refocus her eyes as the world spun. She pointed her wand at the door and did the revealing spell again, then let out an audible gasp as she recognized Seamus's form outside. He had his hands stuck in his pockets and a decidedly uncomfortable look on his face. What on earth was he doing here?
She opened her door slowly, blinking stupidly at him. He looked awkward but still met her gaze with concern. He did look at her new wounds, the purple salve still coating her face, but even though she could see her appearance surprised and saddened him, he didn't seem scared or wary of her new look. She loved him for that.
"We've al heard what happened at the Department of Magical Creatures," he started slowly, unease evident in his tone. Oh, it was good to hear his voice again, the light Irish brogue meeting her ears like a warm summer breeze against the cold winter night.
Lavender snorted, a very unladylike noise. "I'm not a creature and I told them so."
That startled a short laugh out of him. "Course you're not. Are you alright?" He squinted at her when she shrugged and wobbled a little against her doorframe. "Are you drunk?"
"Maybe." She leaned up against the doorframe, wondering why he was spinning a little. She shrugged. "It's been a really awful past few days."
He laughed again, a proper one this time. That got Lavender to crack a smile before gesturing him inside, out of the cold. In this state, with everything a little blurry around the edges, it was almost like nothing had happened between them. She wanted to pretend nothing had happened. "Come in."
Seamus shook his head, a look of genuine regret on his face. "I can't. I just wanted to be sure you were doing alright."
"Oh yes," she agreed, nodding her head. The nodding made the world spin a little too far and she stumbled forward, hitting his arm with her shoulder, their chests pressed up against each other. "Whoops, sorry," she apologized, trying to back up. Walking backwards was harder than she had expected though and she ended up halfway falling over her couch, wondering when it had wandered up behind her. Convenient thing.
"Alright, time for bed for you," Seamus said. He seemed at once reluctant and eager to enter her house. That was strange. He wrapped Lavender's arm around his waist and half guided, half carried her to her bedroom, kicking the main door shut behind him. He sat her down on the edge of the bed and went to fetch a glass of water and a hangover potion from her medicine cabinet in the bathroom. By the time he got back she had stripped down to her bra and panties, skin flushed from the firewhiskey. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, and anyway, her nightie had revealed pretty much everything already.
Seeing her nearly naked as he walked back into the room Seamus stumbled, nearly walking into her door. He shook his head experimentally, like a dog trying to get water out of its ears, before clearing his throat and setting down the hangover potion and the glass of water on her bedside table. "I'll see myself out," he said, voice cracking a little.
A thoroughly leonine smile came across Lavender's face. Despite everything, he was still clearly attracted to her and it did wonders for her self esteem. He looked at her and seemed to recognize her smile for what it was and bit his lip, looking like he was hiding a matching smile. Despite over a month apart, she still knew his looks and his moods so well that every motion was recognized and it made her heart hurt and her smile turn wistful. "I miss you," she blurted out. Especially after what Alexei had said.
Seamus sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking away. It broke the sexually charged moment even more than her admission had and Lavender felt a little loss, like a tiny version of losing him all over again. "Sleep well, Seamus," she said in farewell, letting all her longing and love come through in her tone of voice. "Thank you for checking on me."
He met her eyes again, that same exact loss and loneliness painfully evident. He had always worn his heart on his sleeve, especially around her. "Anytime, Lavender."
Then he was gone.