Thicker than Water (Marauders Era) PART II

4 July, 1997 - Forgiveness (II)

Dumbledore's funeral was massive and, Lavinia thought, a bit of a waste of her time. She wouldn't have gone, actually, except that she needed to talk to Harry. And she'd known without asking that Harry would make sure to attend. Of course, this was not such a special trait, Lavinia supposed, seeing as how half of wizarding Britain seemed to have decided to join in the mourning.

It made Lavinia feel like a bit of an outsider, an imposter. An outcast. This was not helped by the fact that she had shoved Remus in Tonks's direction the moment she'd seen the other woman. Not that she regretted that particular choice. She wanted to see Remus happy. She wanted to see him free in love for once. Because the love Lavinia could see full well. The love he even admitted to. It was the freedom he lack and if he needed a reminder every once in awhile that it was perfectly alright for him to be seen in public with the woman he loved without any consequences at all... well. Then she would remind him.

The downside, however, was that Lavinia was left to sit alone, staring up at the table even as Hagrid walked past her, Dumbledore's wrapped body in his arms. She watched that table with eyes that didn't see it, even as Dumbledore was placed on the alter. Even as a stubby old man spoke a eulogy whose words she didn't hear. Even as it burst into flames and left a white marble tomb in its place, forever enshrining the old man on the Hogwarts grounds.

Around her, Lavinia heard sniffs and sobs, but her own eyes were dry. She had never cared about Dumbledore like that. Had never loved the old man. And she knew full well that he had never loved or cared about her. No, their relationship had been a professional thing. A stiff, rigid, necessary thing. It had been based on respect. Nor care.

And at his passing, Lavinia didn't feel grief, at least not in any of the forms she had known it before in her life. Instead, she felt something cold, something heavy. Something like resignation. And staring at that white tomb, all Lavinia could bring herself to do was steel herself. Because though she felt little grief at this death, she did know one thing: this was how the world ended. This was how it all fell apart. This was how the war was lost. And however certain she was that she would keep doing her own little part to help the Order, she didn't see that it would make much of a difference. So she took in the sight of that cold, unfeeling stone and tried to make her heart a little more like it.

When the funeral finished, Lavinia stood with the rest of the crowd. But unlike many of them, she didn't make for Hogsmeade to disapparate home. Because there was a conversation she needed to have first. And she didn't suppose it was going to be a pleasant one. She'd spent too much time over the past few days trying to figure out what the hell to say to her godson. Part of her just wanted to get down on her knees and beg his forgiveness. And another part wanted to look him dead in the eyes and tell him that if he didn't even trust not betray the Order, then he needed to say so to her face and be done with it so she stopped killing herself trying to get something he clearly wasn't going to offer.

She had settled, eventually, on neither of these approaches. In fact, she had settled on having very little plan at all. Because the truth was that Lavinia wasn't entirely sure what Harry did think of her at the moment. So she would let him explain. And then she would figure out what the hell to say afterwards. What she did know was that she needed to make it perfectly clear to Harry that even if he didn't understand her, even if he wanted as little to do with her as possible, he still had to trust her to do her job in the Order. He had to trust her to keep the promise she had made to Dumbledore at the start of this second war. Because they couldn't afford not to trust each other. They couldn't afford internal divisions. Not when all the odds were already so very against them. And if, in the end, he could manage only that... well. It would hurt to lose her godson and whatever little progress she had made since she'd come into his life. But Lavinia didn't suppose it would hurt for long. Because she didn't expect that she would have very long left to hurt about anything at all.