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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»»» THOUGH Lavender never considered herself to be exceptionally bright,there was something about the mystical arts that she was always drawn to; whether it was due to her mother's influence, or the search for something that meant more than the recipe like spells they churned through.
This time, however, she was holding the trust and faith of one Fred Weasley, and history had taught her that he wasn't as willing to accept the unseen as easily as she could. Although this particular situation was asking a lot, even from her. Neville's claims that he had indeed spoken to the pair of them, finding out details that he couldn't have possibly known otherwise, turned everything upside down.
Lavender's gaze flickered towards Fred who was rooting through the cupboards to find more food. She stared at the way his nose wrinkled and could almost picture the conversation he was having with himself. He thought she didn't notice, but she could always tell when he was missing George. With her reconnection with Neville going so well, it was only natural that he was feeling especially sorry for himself.
Silently she drummed her fingers against the tabletop, running through the options they had. They could demand to get every piece of information from Neville, but that could possibly endanger their own future. Knowing they did something might force them to do it. It was better for them to follow their instincts and hope the timelines aligned.
Yet that didn't mean his knowledge was completely useless. She couldn't see any danger to learning more about what was coming, if anything it would just mean they would be better prepared when it came to it. The most important piece of information, how they actually managed the time travel, was apparently something they had refused to disclose to Neville. The thought caused a wry smile to play on Lavender's lips. That definitely sounded like something she would do.
Her mind wandered back to the outburst Fred made earlier. He seemed to think they were playing in a larger game and though she hated to admit it, she couldn't help but feel the same. A part of her wondered why they couldn't just move on in peace. As soon as the thought entered her head, she scowled and exhaled. Thinking like that would bring no benefit in this situation.
Also, there have been some perks, she thought to herself, as she admired her companion from a safe distance.
"Sickle for your thoughts?" Neville asked in a low voice causing her to jump. He placed a mug of tea down on the table, a knowing smile plastered on his face as Lavender straightened up hastily.
"What does that even mean?"
"I heard Hermione talking about the muggle saying and made up one for us," he said, shrugging. "You didn't answer my question." There was something about his tone that irked her.
"My thoughts are worth a lot more than a Sickle," Lavender said, a dark look flashing through her eyes as she inhaled the scent of the beverage.
"Not when they're written all over your face," he countered only to get an eye roll in reply. "So how long have you guys been like this?" He asked, changing the topic much to her relief.
