Thicker than Water (Marauders Era) PART II

19 June, 1996 - Talk (II)

Harry led Lavinia back into the castle, a decision she was none too pleased about. She hadn't walked these halls in a long time. Even when she'd visited the place, she'd never gone anywhere above the first floor except to reach the Headmaster's office and even then she had only ever taken the most direct route.

And now she was remembering all too vividly why. Because she had walked these halls for reasons she didn't like to remember. Reasons that made her all too conscious of the scars on her bare arms. That made her want to yank fabric down and hide them. That made her heart ache for Sirius. For the first person who had ever looked at them with anything other than disgust. Who had seen them, known what they meant, known exactly what she had done and... hadn't minded. Hadn't let it change what he thought of her. Had loved her anyway.

Lavinia sighed and wrapped her arms around her waist like she could protect herself from her own thoughts. Like her arms could ever be anywhere near as comforting as his had been.

It was a blessing when Harry stopped, looking out a window on the fourth floor and watching the grounds with an air of detachment about him. Lavinia expected him to start asking questions as soon as he'd stopped. To demand why Sirius hadn't stayed home. Why she hadn't fought harder to convince him. Why she hadn't stayed closer to him. Why she hadn't protected him. All the questions she was already asking herself. All the guilts she fully expected him to lay on her. Guilt she would have happily claimed, especially if it helped lessen his own.

But he didn't.

Instead, for a long moment, Harry just stared out at the grounds, his hands gripping the windowsill rather tighter than Lavinia thought was strictly necessary. It made her wonder just what was going through his head as he looked down at his fellow students, all laughing and basking in the sun, enjoying the end of the year. She wondered if it was anything like what she had felt at this time of year when she'd been at school. Detached. Separate. Hollow. Admittedly for very different reasons than he might be feeling it but... well. She rather thought she might understand how he felt. Like he was separate from all of them. Removed. Behind some invisible wall he didn't know how to tear down.

She considered saying something about it, actually, but decided not to. He had asked to talk to her, after all. Which meant this conversation was his to direct. So she waited, searching his face for signs of the thoughts he was so clearly trying to keep hidden.

After awhile, Harry did indeed speak. But it did little to reveal what might be going through his head. Or why he had wanted to speak to her in the first place.

"Hermione said you love him," he said simply, not even looking at Lavinia as he spoke. And maybe it was the lack of eye contact or maybe it was the flat, hard tone he used, but it came out sounding like an accusation. And in case the words alone weren't enough to make Lavinia's chest constrict, the way he said them... She found herself staring at him, her throat momentarily too tight for words.

"Hermione isn't awake," she informed him after a moment, knowing it didn't remotely answer his question. But at the moment, she was trying not to think too much on what he had actually said because... because it hurt. And she didn't want to hurt more. She wanted to shove it out of her head and heart. She wanted it to stop because hadn't she hurt enough in her life? Hadn't she already paid whatever price it was the universe demanded?

"I know," Harry admitted, interrupting Lavinia's rather morose thoughts with enough guilt in his words to make Lavinia's heart shrivel and twist with yet another pain. With the knowledge that she had been right: he blamed himself. And she didn't know how to comfort him. How to explain that this much was too much even if... well even if he had maybe earned a little bit of the blame. Just... not all of it.