As Lavender Brown's body lay amongst the ruins of what was once her home, she watched a family grieve the loss of one of their own, wondering why fate had so cruelly dealt them such cards. From a young age, all she wanted was to love and be loved in...
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»»» PATCHED up and all healed,the only open matter to resolve was what to do with the unconscious Weasley who was still lying outside the store. As far as Lavender was concerned, he could stay where he was, they had wasted far too much time already. Although she knew that would be impossible considering just how much Fred was tormenting himself with the outcome of it all. Whilst he was in a far better mood, he had yet to speak of the problem at hand. So Lavender decided to take charge, as she usually did for tasks that no one else wanted to do.
She stared at his body. He was so eerily similar to Fred, but it was far easier for her to spot the differences. There was still a boyish look to the man, one that was seemingly stolen from his brother. Pursing her lips, she squatted down and waved a hand over his face, snapping her fingers for good measure. Satisfied that he was still out cold, she smiled to herself, recalling the compliment Fred had given her.
Channeling the anger needed behind the attack was almost effortless. She knew how difficult it was for Fred to face his brother and now she had some inclination as to why. It still didn't make any sense, but she wasn't about to pry. All she felt was pity. George didn't even realise what an opportunity he had royally botched up and perhaps it was for the best.
Grabbing one of his arms, she tucked it under his body, taking enough care not to wake him but no more than that. She pushed his legs together, huffing in exertion until eventually his body resembled a neat line. She swore under her breath and leant back against the wall to catch her breath. A cool mist followed her exhale, providing an eerie form of comfort.
Lavender frowned. It still confused her as to why she felt so alive in the company of Fred, quite literally. The rational part of her knew that it was all temporary, probably a side effect of dying. Yet a small voice couldn't help but raise impossible questions like whether they'd be able to continue living together. It didn't matter too much that they were trapped in the past. As far as she was concerned, it was an improvement since the war had not even started.
One corner of her mouth quipped upwards as she contemplated the intricacies behind her fantasies. It would involve dealing with Fred on a daily basis. It was becoming harder to deny that it wouldn't be unpleasant. Without the pressure of her peers, the judgement and whispers that would inevitably follow, Lavender allowed herself one moment to indulge in the idea.
All her life she longed for a form of love that she could understand and accept. Naively she once believed she had found it with that boy, only to have her heart shattered in far more pieces that she cared to look for. Eventually it became obvious that there was something about her that simply was not appealing to others. She glanced down, gaze fixed on her fingers that refused to stay still.
Perhaps this is my moment, she thought, shaking her head at how pathetic it sounded in her head. To be missed was never a luxury she could afford. Whilst they were searching for answers and possibilities, silently hoping for a miracle, Lavender knew she didn't really want any of it. It would mean giving up far too much and she wasn't ready for that at all.
