Thicker than Water (Marauders Era) PART II

1 May, 1998 - Goodbyes (II)

Waiting for midnight to come was unbearable. Standing there, aligning cots that were already straight, sorting through potions that were already labelled and accounted for, searching for something to do as the castle seemed to tense around them with every passing moment... it was all awful. Lavinia could have sworn she could hear the seconds ticking past on some invisible clock, counting down the moments until all hell would break loose. Counting down the last seconds of peace. The last seconds of life.

And with her makeshift ward all arranged around her and the makeshift troops all in position and this makeshift battleground just holding its breath, there was nothing left to do but wait. And think. Of course, Lavinia did not want to think. Thinking made her remember the goodbyes she had said. Goodbyes she prayed wouldn't be permanent but which she hoped might just be enough just in case they had to be.

It was a familiar kind of goodbye, these half hopeful, half hopeless offerings she'd given to her loved ones as the Great Hall had begun to empty. She had said too many of them before, afterall. Nearly every day of the last war, when Sirius or Remus or James or Lily or even Peter had left and she had known she might never see them again. There had been only once in that time when she had not said a goodbye she could sit with. To Sirius. Because she had hardly had time to realize she'd be saying it at all. Which was why she'd made sure every goodbye since then had been better.

So yes, she had practice. But that practice didn't make it feel any better. Didn't make it ache any less. What it did do was give her rules to follow: No promises. No demands. No criticisms. And always remember to say I love you.

She had found these out over the years the hard way. From making mistakes. And now she knew better. On the other hand, she had utterly ignored every single one of them when parting with Remus, but then, that felt different somehow. Because she knew no matter what she said that with him... no goodbye would ever give her peace. Not, she knew, when she was staring at Harry as he walked towards her down the Great Hall, that this wasn't true for others. But she had said goodbye to Remus too many times and had gotten used to him coming back even when others hadn't. So no matter what she said to him, some part of her would, she knew, always be waiting for him to return. Because he always did.

Not, she knew, that such thoughts were particularly pertinent when her godson was looking like he had a job to do and didn't much care what it cost him. It reminded her of Sirius, really, which wasn't a comfortable thought at all. Indeed, it was a thought she pushed away almost as soon as it occurred to her.

Instead, Lavinia sighed as Harry came closer and then, realizing he hadn't seen her at all, she reached out to him, grabbing his arm to make him stop because, of course, he had not been coming to her. And perhaps, she thought, he might rather have avoided her, but Lavinia knew what it felt like to lay in bed with the knowledge of a death and words she could never say on her tongue. And she was just selfish enough to never want to do that again. So she stopped him. And she met his eyes. And she said the simplest of all her goodbyes:

"No matter what happens, Harry," she told him softly when he turned to look at her, some measure of that determination flickering slightly with confusion and surprise and something else Lavinia couldn't quite place. "All the people who matter are already proud of you." She paused and tipped her head to the side, contemplating her godson. "I am already proud of you. And I have been for a very long time."

Harry didn't react much to this statement. Really, he just stared at her, his jaw working as though trying to remember how to speak the words he wanted to say. Or else, perhaps, just trying to figure out what words to say at all. But Lavinia didn't need any. The nod he gave her and the expression in his face... that was enough. So she let go of his arm and simply watched as he hesitated for a moment, torn, apparently, between hurrying on his way and speaking some goodbye of his own.