Thicker than Water (Marauders Era) PART II

18 April, 1997 - History (II)

Lavinia kept a straight face firmly in place as she exited the Gryffindor common room, which was far more crowded now than it had been when she'd entered. Where only a few pairs of eyes had tracked her into the dormitories in the first place, now dozens pinned her with frowns and suspicious stares that did nothing to help Lavinia's weariness. And indeed, she felt exhausted, drained. Sick.

She'd hardly known what to think when she'd received Dumbledore's letter and had had no time to process before Molly was standing on her doorstep with a fiery sort of anger in her eyes the likes of which Lavinia wasn't sure she'd ever seen. The kind of rage her life had known so well had been an icy thing - calculated and controlled - not the sort of burning Lavinia had seen in Molly's face.

So Lavinia had let the woman in and let her rant, only half listening as she spewed bitter words laced with the kind of aching disappointment Lavinia knew spoke of just how deeply Molly cared for Harry. And just how much it hurt that he had done this. And this... well, Lavinia had only just begun to understand the full magnitude of what this was and with it came a sinking sensation in her chest, a closing in her throat and an ache she couldn't quite place.

Which was perhaps why, when Molly had burst out with, "What the hell was he thinking?" Lavinia had had no answer but a sad shake of her head and a whisper of, "I suspect he wasn't, really."

Molly had merely scowled at that. "Isn't that worse?" she'd demanded.

Lavinia had met the other woman's eyes and shrugged helplessly. Because she honestly didn't know. Was it worse if this had been instinct? Worse if he hadn't thought? Because if this was what he defaulted to do... what did that mean? What did that say about him? But then, what did it say about him if he had been thinking and decided this of all things, was the right course? What then?

And the truth was that Lavinia had no idea at all.

Thankfully, however, Molly hadn't seemed to really need or want an answer to her question and had merely plowed on in her tirade about irresponsible behavior and where on earth had he even learned a spell like that and so on and so forth.

Lavinia hadn't really been listening. She didn't suppose she needed to, really, because what good was another person's anger when she suspected her own would be blooming soon enough? So instead she just thought. And thought. And thought. Because she didn't know how to process this. Of all the things she'd ever thought Harry might be or do, this was not one of them. This was dark magic. And true, Lavinia didn't suppose it had been unprovoked, but why had he been there? What had he been doing? How the hell had this happened?

And she had no answers to any of those questions either.

It had made her wish that Remus was there. Because Remus would have kept his head. Remus would have had explanations that were less dark than those Lavinia was concocting, explanation that were based on really knowing the boy instead of the awful ones Lavinia's mind was jumping to based on how Harry had responded to Lavinia's forgiveness of Peter and how he had tried to curse Bellatrix Lestrange and and and. And fear. That was what Lavinia's explanations were based on. Because she'd lost too many people to the Dark Arts and Harry was not supposed to be one of them.

So she'd wished and wished and wished that Remus was there. So she could have talked to him. And listened to him. Because though she supposed Molly's company was better than nothing at all, Lavinia rather suspected that the other woman didn't so much want someone to talk to as someone to talk at. So that was what Lavinia gave her as she sat there in silence, stuck in her thoughts and praying her first and second and third explanations were wrong.

Until, of course, Molly had suggested the Howler. Because that was a line Lavnia was not going to cross. Not now and not ever. Because she understood the anger. She understood the rage. And she understood the need to make sure Harry knew exactly how many lines he had crossed. But a Howler?