The return to Hogwarts was a mixed blessing to Lavinia. She was more than slightly excited to be back in the castle, for various reasons, almost all of which she felt guilty for. But the start of her seventh year seemed to her to be the beginning of the end. She had one more year and every day was tick off the calendar, one step closer to the future she'd always known she'd have. But now, facing it head on, it felt more real than ever, and she couldn't help but wonder what life would be like post Hogwarts.
She'd have a full year with her family - doing what, she didn't know, but a full year, with no escape and no one to run to if things got bad. More than once, she tried to console herself with the reminder that at least she couldn't be punished for bad grades anymore, but it was a mixed blessing, for she knew her NEWT scores were bound to disappoint her mother. She would try, of course, as she always did. But eight NEWT exams was near impossible, she was certain. Within a few weeks of the beginning of term, that much became sharply clear to her.
She resumed her habit of staying in the library until it closed, trying to force herself to focus through a mind-numbing exhaustion that seemed to bear down on her like a physical weight. Her progress was slower than she would have liked, but it was progress nonetheless. And it gave her excuses to stay up late and skip meals, both things she seemed to be doing frequently.
Most of the time, she simply wasn't hungry or else stress and thoughts of her mother's disappointment chased her appetite away. Other times she simply convinced herself that she would deal with it later and couldn't be bothered to get up from whatever she happened to be doing at the time. Some days, movement simply required more energy than she had. She knew it was a bad habit to be eating so little, knew she needed to stop, but it was oh so hard to get herself to care. Especially since bad habits seemed to be most of her daily routine.
As for staying up late, it seemed to be her sole joy, if she could even call it that. Though she still bantered with her friends when she saw them, it felt forced. She hid behind a girl she wasn't sure existed anymore, playing at sarcasm and wit even when her heart just wasn't in it. Even when she often felt detached, like she might just break off and drift away and leave this shell behind to laugh coldly at whatever latest mistake some poor Gryffindor had made.
She still wandered the corridors though and it was perhaps the time when she felt most herself. She was almost always joined by a Marauder and their unspoken agreement to simply distract her frequently resulted in her more genuine smiles. She was careful still, never to say anything of import. And though she was more relaxed with them than her friends, not having to stress about anything she said getting back to her mother, she was still off. She knew she was hiding, knew she was acting almost all day every day, but she didn't care. She couldn't be herself, not with her mother's threat hanging over her head. No one could know just how bad things were inside her head. So she hid it behind smiles that more often than not she didn't feel, no matter what time of day it was.
Still, even with her constant facade, it was undeniably nice to have people who knew something was wrong, even if they had no idea what it was or just how far it went, and didn't much care. They just... let her be whoever she wanted, without strings attached or expectations of what she was and how she was supposed to act.
Even James Potter. The first time he was the one to encounter her in the halls, Lavinia had almost laughed at seeing him approaching her, hands in his pockets, looking haughty and annoyed as ever. It was lucky, perhaps, that he caught her on a night when she wasn't in the worst mood. There had been no letter from home, no blood and even a several hour stretch when she had laughed with her friends and meant it. When they had seemed to be there for her, joking about her mother's tyranny and planning for a future that had seemed, in that moment, more than bearable. Indeed, she was wandering less because she was desperate and more out of habit, still searching for whatever hidden thing in the halls might fill the void in her chest that was a constant companion even on the best of days.
"Hello," she greeted, smirking slightly as Potter approached. Of all the Marauders, he changed the least in the dark of night. Lupin became more talkative, more openly sensitive. Black became nicer, gentler, and far more understanding. And Pettigrew... well Pettigrew when he wasn't surrounded by his friends developed his own personality, instead of his usual blind support of the other three. He became bright and talkative and occasionally rather self-pitying for her tastes, though she supposed he had a right to it as much as she did. Potter, however, was always still Potter, loud, dramatic and confident to the point of arrogance. The consummate class clown everyone knew him to be.
"Yeah, yeah, let's get this over with," Potter sighed in response to her greeting.
Lavinia raised her eyebrows at him, frowning. "If you can't wait for this to end, then why are you here in the first place?"
"Sirius made me," he deadpanned, stopping a few feet in front of her as she leaned against the wall of the corridor.
"Mmm," she hummed, looking out the window. "No other reason?"
"Remus may also have made me," he conceded, leaning against the wall as well.
Lavinia gave a slight smile at the reminder of how much those two boys looked after her. "Fair enough," she said shrugging. "You must be a good friend."
He didn't answer that, and Lavinia supposed he wasn't sure how. If she was honest, she wasn't sure why she'd said it. She'd gotten somewhat used to James and his dislike of her. It was oddly easy to bear, perhaps more so than it should have been. It was a constant at least. He'd always disliked her, and she suspected he always would. For her part, she wasn't exactly a fan of his, not with everything he'd done to Severus. But she tolerated him, largely because she'd had the opportunity to see what his friends thought of him.
She'd asked Lupin, earlier in the year, why he was friends with Potter. She'd considered also asking Black, but she'd been avoiding any heavy subjects with him lately, his condemnation of her family still fresh in her mind from last school year. That and she didn't trust his judgement where Potter was concerned.
But Lupin was a different story. He was level-headed, calm and wouldn't blow up in her face when asked. He knew she didn't get on with James. And knew also that she had her reasons for it. And Lupin, she suspected, knew better than any of the other Marauders just how many lines they'd crossed in past years.
His answer had come after a long pause as he thought and it had ultimately been simple: "He's always had my back," he said with a shrug. "And he's always accepted me for exactly what I am."
She hadn't known exactly what he meant by that, but the gist of it was clear. Loyalty. That was what made James Potter a person worth defending. That was why Black had snapped at her when she'd made an off hand comment about his choice of best friend. That was why Lupin, though he tolerated Lavinia's distaste for Potter, always challenged any direct insult. Loyalty begat loyalty and if Potter defended his friends, then they would defend him.
And, if she was honest, Lavinia had to admit that Potter had lost the worst of his arrogance this year. Even Evans seemed to have lost her vehement hatred for the boy. And if Evans was willing to forgive Potter to the point of being receptive to the advances she'd rejected for years... Lavinia supposed she could handle keeping her mouth shut about his poorer qualities when she was around him and his friends.
Now, Lavinia and Potter stood in silence, leaning against the walls of a corridor late at night, several feet apart, simply tolerating each other. Both of them doing it less because they wanted to and more for the sake of other people they cared about. Because whether she'd admit it or not, Lavinia thought she might just care about these boys who had made a habit out of keeping an eye out for her.
"So is it silence tonight or are we insulting each other?" Lavinia asked finally, still looking outside.
"Your call," he said with a shrug. "I reckon these nights are your show, not mine."
Lavinia shot a frown at him. "What on earth do you mean by that?" she asked, confused and vaguely offended.
He shook his head and sighed. "I don't know what game you're playing at, Selwyn, but you've got my friends wrapped right around your finger." He turned to look at her, his face flat condemnation.
"You think I'm manipulating them," Lavinia stated, her lips pressed together in a forced smile. This certainly explained a few things. It probably also should have made her angry, but she knew she'd done nothing to earn his trust.
He shrugged. "Just don't know what for," he sighed.
"Why," she challenged. "Why do you think that?"
James looked away, opened his mouth and then closed it again, turning back to her with a resigned annoyance on his face. "Because you're Lavinia Selwyn. You insult and tease us and everyone else. And Sirius might think you've changed, but you're the same person you've always been during the day. So yeah. I reckon this -" He gestured to her. "- Is an act."
Lavinia blinked, surprised to find she didn't feel much of anything at that, then realizing she shouldn't be shocked, given how little she felt at all these days. "For what it's worth, it's not," she said, her tone blank.
He looked at her for a moment then shrugged. "Just don't fuck with my friends," he said finally.
Lavinia gave a scoff. "Oh, like you don't fuck with mine?" she asked incredulously, sarcasm practically dripping from the words.
"It's Snivellus," he snapped, pushing off the wall to face her squarely. "He deserves it."
Lavinia followed suit, standing up properly. "No," she countered. "He doesn't."
"He curses us. And he's part of that awful blood purity movement you Slytherins all rally around. It's disgusting," he spat.
Lave straightened herself up and set her shoulders. "You have no idea what his life has been like. And besides, he only started cursing you after you made a habit out of cursing him. You started that and now you need to deal with the consequences."
Potter's jaw worked and she could practically see him biting back some sharp reply before leaned back against the wall again. "Maybe," he said finally, though he didn't sound remotely convinced. "But what about the rest of it. He curses muggle borns and calls them names. He wants to join You-Know-Who. That whole group does."
Lavinia sighed and collapsed back against the wall, shaking her head. "I can't speak to his actions anymore," she muttered, wishing she could defend him from Potter's insults, the way she always had.
Potter frowned at her. "You don't support them?" he asked, sounding fully like he didn't believe it.
Lavinia gave a one shoulder shrug. "Doesn't much matter what I think," she sighed, that ever present exhaustion slipping into her tone.
"Maybe not," Potter admitted, an odd edge to his tone. "But I'm asking all the same."
Lavinia looked at him for a moment, searching his face for some sign of malice. It wasn't like him to ask her anything unless he wanted to twist her answer. He simply raised his eyebrows at her.
"I don't think it's right," she said finally, turning to look back out the window. "I don't see how it makes a difference where we come from." She paused, then shook her head. "But if my parents knew that, they'd..." She trailed off and gave a tense laugh, imagining just what they might do. "Well. In my circles," she continued after a momentary pause. "It doesn't much matter what a woman thinks. I'm supposed to echo my father until I'm married and then I'll parrot my husband. So I suppose I'm just as bad as they are for saying such things. Because I certainly don't argue."
There was a long silence. "That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard," Potter asserted after awhile.
Lavinia gave a surprised little laugh and glanced over at him. He looked... almost offended. "Just because you're a woman doesn't mean you don't have opinions. What century does your family live in?"
Lavinia snorted. "Good question," she muttered. "Not this one, anyway."
Again there was a pause as the two of them simply stood in silence. After a few minutes, Potter shifted, looking at Lavinia again. She turned to him, eyebrows raised. "What?" she asked.
He shook his head and turned away. "I was just thinking that maybe you're not so bad, after all, Selwyn."
Lavinia couldn't stop the smile that spread over her face and she dropped her gaze to the floor, chuckling slightly. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Potter."
"Damn, I must be slipping," he swore, but when she looked at him, he too was smiling. She shook her head slightly and looked back out the window. They stood like that for a long while, in peaceful silence. And though she'd never though it possible, Lavinia wasn't remotely upset that the person at her side was James Potter, prankster extraordinaire, bonafide arsehole, and maybe, just maybe, a genuinely decent person.