**
As time went on, things got easier for Lavinia in the Potter house. Or the days did, anyway. The house was bright and warm and full of a careless laughter Lavinia hadn't known to exist anywhere else. It was strange to her, that any home could be so blithely happy and not think twice about it. But none of them seemed to notice this thing that was to her utterly out of the ordinary. Well, Sirius at least understood where she was coming from, but they didn't talk about it much. Indeed, they didn't talk much about anything at all and sometimes Lavinia wondered if, for all that even Regulus believed he would help her, Sirius thought the job was done.
It wasn't that he wasn't nice. During the day he was more than understanding and she knew that at least part of his absence at night was a product of her ridiculous sleep schedule, but sometimes she found herself missing the constant of his presence while she was stargazing.
Because for all that the days had been getting better, the nights were a different story, and in the darkness of them, Lavinia found herself waging a silent war against her own head more often than not.
It was strange, in part because it was simply odd to be able to leave her room without fear of punishment and in part because her normal nightly routine now felt almost dirty. It felt wrong to slit her wrists in this house which seemed somehow too clean for it, like it hadn't been touched by the kind of darkness that haunted Lavinia, pulling her to pick up her potions knife in the wee hours of the morning. The result was that she ended up sitting in the bathroom for long periods of time, thinking and battling with herself before she inevitably ended up leaving- sometimes bleeding, sometimes not - to go down to the living room and watch the stars from the window overlooking the garden.
Most nights she did this alone, though Black never failed to offer to stay up with her. She always refused, hating herself for it, but unwilling to give up those hours in the bathroom, whether because she wanted to chance to fight and win on her own, or because she so desperately wanted to lose so she could remember the sharp clarity of metal against her skin. And when she slipped out of her room well past midnight, he was never there waiting. Not that she blamed him. She suspected that by the time she'd finished fighting, whether winning or losing, the rest of th house was already asleep. She didn't mind much, however. It was good to have space to think. And she had a lot of thinking to do.
It wasn't just her family. She knew she'd made her choice and knew also that unless she was prepared to take a whole lot of pain, that choice needed to be final. But she hated that she had a deadline. Because no matter how hard she thought about it, no matter how many arguments she formulated in her head, no matter how much sense it made to stay away, it was never quite enough to convince her.
If she didn't go back, she was throwing it all away. Her family. Her friends. Her future. And while it shouldn't have meant so much to lose a future she'd always felt trapped in, it also meant losing Regulus, and she hated that. It meant losing Eloise and her oblivious humor. It meant losing Thomas and his teasing and the blossoming relationship that made her feel rather warm inside. It meant losing Severus and whatever shred of her heart still held onto the boy he had been. It meant losing William. Forever.
Because if she didn't go home for Easter, there was no going back. She would be throwing away the life she'd always known and casting herself into Merlin knew what. She didn't have plans. She'd never thought much about what she would do past Hogwarts because she'd never had to. She didn't know what she might want to do with herself if given the opportunity to pursue her own career.
It felt like the whole world was spiraling out in front of her and it was endless and unknown and utterly terrifying. So was the idea of going home, of course, but it was so much easier to accept a known pain than facing the prospect of a future she had never before considered.
Of course, some nights, she never got around to thinking of the rest of her life and instead got stuck on the now. Usually on three boys sleeping upstairs who had been kind to her for no reason she knew. There was always a nagging part of her that didn't trust their kindnesses, didn't want them. She didn't like the pity she saw in their eyes every morning when she came downstairs. She didn't like the way they treated her carefully, like she was fragile. Even if she knew she was.
But she also couldn't deny all the things they'd done for her. They had earned her trust. And more than that, they had earned her loyalty, whether or not she was willing to give it. She knew it wasn't fair to them that she kept second guessing their motives, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't - wouldn't - trust her own judgement these days. But it wasn't easy to brush off their help.
Potter was the easiest to explain away. He did things for his friends. He tolerated her because Sirius asked him to. He let her into his home because Sirius cared. That reasoning she could understand. He didn't need to like her and he didn't need to care - she doubted he did - but for his best friend, he would do just about anything. Lavinia knew all too well what that was like.
Sirius was a different and far more difficult problem. She supposed it was pity, or perhaps empathy in his case. Her best guess was that he had been there. That he knew what it was like to be standing in the road in the middle of the night realizing that home wasn't safe anymore. But that only explained this instance. It didn't explain his kindness before. It didn't explain the night on the tower.
She got stuck on that night a lot. It was one question how the hell he'd known where she was. But he had known. Somehow he'd known. And he'd come. Barefoot, out of breath and with a fear in his eyes she couldn't forget. Fear for her. Like he really, truly cared.
And the more time she spent with him, the more she realized that she might just care too. Spending her days with him, when he was what she presumed was his normal self, she found herself smiling more than she would have thought possible given the circumstances. She liked going back and forth with him. It wasn't like they'd sparred years ago, when her words were sharp and meant to hurt. This was quick-witted and... fun. She would never say it out loud, but she rather liked spending time with Sirius Black. He was intelligent and funny and utterly unafraid in a way that made her terribly envious.
It fascinated her, to know that he had come from a world like her own, from a home like her own, and hadn't let it get to him. Not that it didn't bother him. It did and Lavinia was perhaps better poised to see it than anyone else. She saw the way his eyes dulled when they saw her bruises and cuts. She saw the way he seemed to drift off into memories whenever anyone made even the slightest comment about the night she'd come. And she'd seen the sadness and fury in his eyes for years when she'd used his family against him. She hated herself for those words now, knowing that if they were turned against her now she might just shatter even further.
The memories of what she'd said to all of these boys over the years kept coming back to her and she felt stabs of guilt in her chest with each and every one. She wished she would just apologise. She wished she could undo everything she'd ever said about the Black family not wanting their son, could erase all the words and wrap Sirius in a hug and make him forget the things they'd done to him. Because she understood now just how awful it was to know your family didn't want you the way you were.
Of course as soon as she thought this, she forced her thoughts elsewhere. He was still Sirius Black, she reminded herself. For all that she'd teased and taunted him, he'd done the same to her. He was rude and crass and breezed through his life without second thought for anyone else. Which she knew wasn't entirely, or even mostly, accurate, but it was still easier to think that way. It kept her from having to unravel the tangle of feelings that came up at the sound of his name.
Perhaps even stranger than Black was Lupin. She hadn't forgotten the events of November and she certainly hadn't forgotten his cold shoulder in the months following. But now he acted as though nothing had happened. He pitched in joking with the others. He asked after her wellbeing. He was nice to her. She didn't at all know what to make of it until a night about a week into her stay at the Potters when several things started to make sense all at once.
It was nearly 3 am and Lavinia had lost her battle that night. Her wrists were still seeping slightly and she hoped she hadn't stained her pajamas. It was getting old to have to clean them every few mornings. This night she stared out at a cloudy sky, not particularly wanting to go back up to bed. She didn't want to stain the sheets. And she didn't think she was likely to fall asleep anytime soon. So she sat alone and wished the clouds would go away so she could see the moonless sky.
She was startled from her watch by the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs and frowned, squirting at the clock on the wall, trying to make out the time. As long as she'd been here no one had disrupted her nightly vigil and it seemed strange that anyone would be up this late. Perhaps, she rationalized, someone was just going to get a snack from the kitchen or something. That seemed like the sort of thing either Potter or Black would do.
But within a few minutes, Lupin was walking into the living room, his progress slow as he made his way towards where Lavinia sat on the back of the couch. She watched him approach, frowning slightly but saying nothing. It had been a long time since she'd spoken one on one with Remus Lupin and from the way he approached, she knew he wasn't downstairs at this hour merely by coincidence.
For a moment as he settled himself on the far side of the couch, Lavinia wondered if he hadn't seen her and wasn't actually looking to talk to her, though it didn't seem likely at all. And indeed, shortly after he sat down, he spoke.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice as soft and gentle as it had ever been, for all that there was a slight tremor in it.
Lavinia shook her head and looked out the window again. "I wanted to see the stars," she murmured. She looked back at him, keeping her face blank and straight in case he could make out her features even in the dark. "But it's cloudy tonight."
Lupin nodded, glancing out the window as well. "Shame," he sighed. "It's a new moon too. Good for stargazing."
Lavinia hummed her agreement. "Why are you up?" she asked, not looking at him. She wasn't sure how this conversation was supposed to be going. She didn't know how to talk to any of them anymore. Their conversations had always been either jokes, silence or, occasionally, comfort. They didn't usually do casual, though that was becoming more and more common as the days of break marched on.
"Couldn't sleep either," Lupin shrugged. Then, after a pause in which he took a deep and slightly shaky breath, he continued, "And I've been putting something off that I have to deal with now."
Lavinia glanced at him, brows furrowed, her curiosity piqued. "Oh?" she asked, wondering vaguely if she was supposed to be comforting him and then wondering how. She knew how to get through to Regulus when he was stressed or upset, but they'd practically grown up together. It was second nature to her to reach out when he needed it. And, though it seemed a rather foolish thought now she considered it, she'd never expected Remus Lupin to need comforting. He always seemed rather stable, and if he was slightly sad sometimes, she'd always brushed it off as a quiet nature. She wondered now if she'd been rather wrong to do so.
"Mm," he hummed now, looking at the wall on the far side of the room, as though now, faced with admitting what it was that was keeping him up, he rather regretted mentioning it in the first place.
Lavinia frowned. It wasn't a very helpful response, in her opinion and didn't at all help her gauge whether or not she should be doing more to make him feel better about whatever it was that was bothering him. So she stayed silent, figuring if he was going to tell her, he would do so in his own time.
There was a rather long silence before Lupin finally said something and the topic was more than slightly unexpected. "Do you remember the night of the November full moon?" he asked suddenly.
All of the muscles in Lavinia's body suddenly seemed to go tense. Of course she remembered that night. Like a bad dream that stuck with her. She wasn't likely to forget fear like that. Merlin knew she hadn't forgotten a single time her mother had given her reason to feel fear even close to that. The smaller moments, the passing blows, those were forgettable. But the explosions that set her heart racing and her feet itching to run... those stuck with her. Those woke her up in the middle of the night halfway to screaming or, sometimes, simply kept her from sleeping in the first place.
"Lavinia?" Lupin asked, frowning at her, concern and fear mixing on her face.
"Sorry," she muttered, pulling herself back from the tumbling cascade of thoughts about her family and sighing. "I remember," she admitted softly, her head tripping over mixed memories of the day and the lingering reminders of the fear her mother had inspired on the worst days.
Lupin nodded vaguely. "And what..." He broke off, evidently unsure, and turned back to look at the wall. "What did you think happened that night?"
Lavinia blinked at him. She knew what had happened. She just wasn't sure what it meant. She hadn't ever managed to settle on a reasonable explanation and had eventually just given up trying to figure it out. So, she took the easy way out.
"I don't know," she lied, not wanting to risk revealing the awful things she'd thought that night.
"Please?" Lupin asked, his eyes once again finding her, this time under raised brows, even as he twisted his hands in his lap. "I need to know how much I have to explain."
Explain? Lavinia frowned. But that sounds like... Her thoughts did several stutter steps and fell flat inside her head. But she hadn't been right about that. She'd been awful and presumptive and several other things but not right.
"Please?" he repeated when she was silent for a long minute.
"I went outside because I saw a person by the lake," she started, keeping her tone blank and emotionless. "And on the way back I thought I saw animals. And..." She hesitated, glancing over at Lupin, who was watching her intently. "And a werewolf," she finished carefully, looking for any reaction on Lupin's face. Finding none, she rushed to continue, to explain away the awful implication her eyes had betrayed. "But I was tired," she lied. "I wasn't thinking straight. I probably dreamed it or something and I-" She broke off as Lupin shook his head, her eyes narrowing and her heart suddenly beating faster against her ribs.
He sighed, the exhale catching slightly, and shifted himself so he was sitting up straighter. "You didn't dream it," he said so quietly Lavinia could only just hear.
"How do you know?" she whispered, breathless, her head already racing ahead of her, remembering the flimsy explanations she'd come up with that night, the suspicions she'd had and dismissed as paranoia and confusion.
"Because I was there," Lupin said carefully, as though he was weighing each and every word before he spoke it. He took another deep breath. "I was the werewolf, Lavinia." He stared at her, waiting for her to react and frowning when she didn't. "Did you hear me?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied evenly, still trying to digest. She'd been right. Which seemed utterly insane. Because it was insane. Because it was sweet, gentle Lupin they were talking about. Sweet, gentle Lupin, who, she supposed, could easily have been in some terrible accident as a child. It wasn't like he would have had any say in the matter.
And just like when she'd first considered it, the first thought into her head was whether or not the headmaster knew. She felt the rush of self hatred all over again and squeezed her wrist, reminding herself she'd already dealt with that particularly feeling for tonight. The sharp bolt of pain from the fresh wounds seemed to jolt her back to reality.
"I'm sorry I avoided you," Lupin was now saying, staring at his hands in his lap. "And I understand if you don't want to spend time with me anymore. I promised James I would tell you before his parents got back and... and you deserve to know I suppose. I should have said something sooner but I..." He trailed off and sighed, shaking his head and still staring at his fingers. "I'm sorry I'm a monster," he finished, his voice small and almost pitiful.
Lavinia blinked, surprised, an instinctive anger rising in her at his self-deprecation. She hadn't thought Lupin of all people would think himself bad and the idea of it would have been laughable if she didn't find herself wanting to defend him before he had the chance to think any other stupid things about himself.
"You're not," she contradicted without so much as considering the almost accusing tone she said it with.
Lupin gave a hollow laugh that hit Lavinia rather close to home. She knew the feeling behind that laugh and she wouldn't wish it on anyone. And certainly not him. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better," he assured her, smiling tensely.
Lavinia shook her head slightly, incredulous and now annoyed, the feeling familiar from when she'd talked to Regulus and found herself wanting to fight him for daring to hate himself for doing absolutely nothing wrong. "No I mean it," she insisted and at last he looked up at her.
Seeing the look of baffled indignance on her face he raised an eyebrow. "I'm a werewolf, Lavinia. Do you understand what that means? Once a month I become a feral beast that hunts humans." Lavinia could see his jaw clenching and unclenching as he pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. "If that doesn't make me a monster, I don't know what does," he snapped.
For a long moment Lavinia was quiet, watching him. He seemed so agitated, so fragile. Sweet, calm, solid Lupin. Who she'd never seen come even close to crying. Who didn't have so much as a whisper of a reason to hate himself. Not like she did. He was being ridiculous, of course. Not that she knew how to make him understand that. So she sighed and spoke honestly.
"I understand what it means," she began, some of her annoyance creeping into her tone. "Once a month you turn into a beast. A monster in the crudest sense," she clarified with a shake of her head. "Once a month. But the rest of the time you're just... you." She waved a hand almost exasperatedly at him. "And sure you turn a blind eye to your friends and you don't always make the right choice, but so what? You're just a normal person the rest of the time."
Lupin was watching her intently, looking like he couldn't quite believe she was arguing with him about this. It almost made her angry, that he dared to hate himself for this single thing he couldn't control. That he'd assumed she would be as prejudiced as her family undoubtedly was. Not that he had any reason to think she wouldn't be she supposed, given the kind of people she spent time around. People who made far worse choices than she suspected Lupin ever had.
Lavinia turned away, uncomfortable under Lupin's keen gaze. "I know what monsters look like," she sighed, watching the plants in the garden rustle in a late night breeze. "They look like my mother. And my grandmother." And me. She dropped her gaze down to the wrists sitting in her lap, remembering the rows of wounds and scars hidden by her sleeves. "They hurt people and they don't feel bad about it. They think they're doing the right thing." She sighed and swallowed, looking back at Lupin, now feeling rather hollow. "I doubt you've done a single monstrous thing in your life," she concluded, the words coming out almost like an accusation.
She sighed as Lupin simply blinked at her. Her head was full to bursting now with thoughts she didn't want to spend time on. About how rude he had been to ignore her. About how ridiculous he was being to hate himself for this. About how angry it made her to think that Lupin thought himself a monster while her mother, who had wielded a blade against her own daughter, thought she had every right in the world to do so.
"I'm going to bed," Lavinia muttered, rather more snappishly than she'd intended, feeling slightly guilty for being short with him. It wasn't that she didn't want to comfort him. She had no doubt that was exactly what she should be doing right now. She should be patting him on the back and trying to convince him he was good and kind and that she didn't care about his... condition or whatever she should be calling it. But she wasn't. She was filled to the brim with anger. At him. At her mother. At herself.
So, though she knew she was being selfish, knew she would hate herself for this later, she dropped down onto the couch cushions and then stood up and made her way upstairs. Lupin didn't argue or try to stop her, so she left him behind to riddle out what had undoubtedly been a rather unexpected response to his confession, and let that battle in her head resume for the second time that night.
A/N: Thank you all for your responses to my last author's note. I think I'm going to keep it all in one place. Wattpad allowed 200 chapters in a book and Quotev allows 255, but I don't think that should be an issue? And if it is then... wow I need a life. Anyway, I think it'll be easier to just keep it here because as some of your pointed out, it keeps new readers from having to try to figure out where to start and is just generally more convenient. So this book will basically follow Lavinia's story all the way through (probably) the Second Wizarding War. I hope y'all will bear with me through it :)
As always, I hope you enjoyed and thanks again!