Thicker than Water (Marauders Era)

8 December, 1978 - Judgement

*

Lavinia spent the next month feeling a bit like she was floating. Not that everything was completely perfect. There were still the predictable awkward moments, like the following morning when Lavinia wasn't entirely sure the previous night had actually happened. And a week or so later when Remus asked if they were dating and Lavinia had choked on her coffee and had no immediate answer.

They'd settled on yes. Because they were, for all that it felt like a weird thing to say. She'd then proceeded to endure Remus's satisfied little smirk and Lily's frankly ridiculous celebration later on. It was strange to her how happy her friends seemed over something she didn't think much affected them. But then again, she had more than once noticed Lily and Remus both nudging her and Sirius towards having a proper conversation about their feelings.

The somewhat odd reality, however, was that not much had changed. There were the little things, obviously. They held hands every chance they got, brushed against each other when they passed in the house. Sirius kissed her goodbye every morning and hello every evening. He seemed to want to keep reminding himself that this was real. She did too, so it worked out.

But nothing major was particularly different. Because they'd always been close and they already lived together and they were both busy enough that formal dates weren't something they particularly had time for.

Lavinia didn't particularly mind. She preferred the little things anyway. She didn't need some big fancy show or a night out in town. It was enough for her to know that someone loved her. Not the idea of who she could be, or the future she could represent. Someone loved her. Someone who had seen what her darker days looked like and hadn't left. Someone who had seen her. Or most of her, anyway.

The reality was that there were some walls Lavinia didn't think she would ever knock down. Some fears she wouldn't let even Sirius see. She still always wore long sleeves and she never rolled them up. Even Sirius had never seen her scars. She didn't want him to. Not because she was ashamed - though she was - but because she didn't want him to see how far she had gone. Though he knew she'd harmed, and for no small period of time, she didn't think even he had guessed how bad it had gotten.

Her arms were a patchwork of white lines on pale skin, testament to just how many times she'd taken a blade to her own skin. From wrist up to elbow, there were scars piled on top of each other and on her hips there were a handful more. And she didn't want him to know. If she was entirely honest, she herself didn't want to remember. She avoided looking at them most days. She only looked in the mirror after she was fully dressed and her arms covered.

It was difficult for her to explain, even to herself, why she did this. She knew it would be no use to pretend those awful nights had never happened and that wasn't really what she was trying to do, anyway. In a way, she feared those scars. She was afraid that some twisted part of her would look at them and think they were beautiful. She was afraid she would see them and remember the times she'd wanted to see her own blood. She was afraid she would want that again.

So she simply did her best to avoid thinking about it entirely. It was easier than she had thought actually. Between her work five days a week and the evenings and weekends spent curled up in the warmth and joy of newfound love, she didn't have much room for the darker things in life. Which was good, in her opinion. She needed a break from them whenever she could get it.

One good thing was that despite Mr. Hayes warnings, and Lavinia's personal suspicions, the Mungo Bonham ward remained a sparsely occupied place. Lavinia was slowly, painfully slowly, learning to be honest when asked for her opinion. It was both terrifying and relieving, actually. And it was made easier by Mr. Hayes' easy and accepting manner. No suggestion sounded stupid to him. The only times he got even close to annoyed with her - at least that he showed - were when she had ideas and didn't say them.