As the Easter holidays came to a close, Lavinia found herself honestly unprepared for the fallout of her decision, and not at all in the way she'd expected. She's assumed that all of her friends would simply leave. Which had seemed logical. The choice they were making was a no brainer in her mind. But that Eloise had come and asked to stay in contact, if secretly, was more than unexpected. And Severus, the next day, had apologized for his behavior towards her and told her that if ever needed anything, he would be there in a heartbeat. She'd believed him too. There had been a kind of desperate honesty in his face and voice that reminded her of all the times he'd mentioned his own terrible home life. Even Alexandra, when she came back to school told Lavinia she was sorry she'd ever gone to her mother, that she'd had no idea how bad it would be. That had been perhaps the most unexpected apology, but Lavinia had accepted it, in part because she didn't want to remember Alexandra as the girl she'd quietly held a grudge against for years.
Of course, the subtext of all of it had been clear enough. Lavinia was to stay away, to keep the secrets of those who were willing to disobey their families in the small capacity of sending her letters. And she would do so easily, happily even. The last thing she wanted to do was to hurt them. Because she knew what they were facing and she couldn't blame them for their choice. Honestly, she didn't even blame those who had turned a cold shoulder completely. She would have liked to think that in their situation, she would have at least offered to stay in contact, as Eloise had, but she truly couldn't be sure. She knew what a powerful motivator fear could be and she had to admit that fear of her mother's retribution might well have kept her from staying friends with a known blood traitor. Even if it was only letters.
So it was that the problem came not from her friends, but from others. Hissed insults and whispers of blood traitor followed her down the halls. The seat next to her in classes went unoccupied until necessity prompted some Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw to take it, sitting on the farthest edge from her. It was like there was a bubble around her that no one dared to breech. She walked down the halls alone, ate meals alone and did homework alone.
The first few days were awful. The words stung, each of them new and sharp and painful. The space around her felt like a prison cell, a condemnation she knew she deserved, but for far different reasons than she was given it. The loneliness of her days started stretching and bending and merging with the loneliness of her heart and every day was a fight. Every day was a battle to forget the words people had said. It was a battle she didn't win those first few days. But after a little while, the insults grew old and dull and their sting lessened as she learned how to block her ears to their sound and force her mind not to listen to them.
It helped that every night was spent with the Marauders and every night Sirius walked her down to the dungeons. And once she was there, it was easier to go to bed. Besides which, it was starting to feel like a betrayal to let Sirius think she was safely asleep when she was really sneaking off to make another terrible mistake. And she started to get better. She started to win.
The truth of it was that it probably should have hurt more than it did and had this come several years ago, it would have. But by now, she'd felt so removed from them all for so long, it was only a sting instead of a stab. Not that it didn't hurt at all because it did. It most certainly did. Especially on nights when she saw all her friends in the common room and she ached to join them, but instead forced herself to keep her feet moving away, feeling the hole where they'd been in her heart gaping wider with every step. She missed their laughter and their banter and their company. She missed Eloise's murmurs of frustration when she was doing her homework and the quelling looks Alexandra always replied with. She missed being able to sit close to Regulus instead of meeting eyes across a room and wishing.
But for all that she missed them, there was undeniably a weight off her shoulders. She didn't have to pretend anymore. She could stop holding her nose in the air and keeping a smirk on her lips. She could stop being the girl her mother wished she was. If she was honest, she could have simply started spending her days with the Marauders and it would have done no more damage than she'd already managed on her own. But she couldn't bring herself too. Old fears held her back, failing to dissipate in just a few days. Fears of her mother, which she knew was ridiculous, and fears of - and for - her friends, which was also silly.
Even so, there was still some weight to the idea that if she started being overtly friendly with the Marauders those few friends who hadn't totally forsaken her would walk away. That might be a breach they couldn't forgive. Afterall, it was a minor miracle they hadn't completely left her to rot already. She didn't want to push it.
On the other side of her life, Lavinia couldn't help but wonder if she was slightly freaking the Marauders out. She suspected they were a bit thrown off by her relatively easy acceptance of her friends' behavior. From her end, she was pleasantly surprised that more than one of them had bothered to even speak to her after the news had gotten out. She'd expected radio silence, like a curtain falling over an unfinished play. She'd expected everything to be over, just like that. And it hadn't been. Which, as backwards as it seemed, made her almost happy.
So she'd hoped the Marauders would understand. She'd hoped she wouldn't have to bring it up with them, hoped they would simply accept her decision to forgive and try to forget. But it became clear a week or so after the end of break that this was not the case.
They were in the Room of Requirement, as was custom, and James was lamenting the loss of some map that he seemed somewhat unhealthily attached to in Lavinia's opinion. Maps didn't seem like they warranted a ten minute rant about how ridiculous and obnoxious Filch, the caretaker, was. But, not wanting to interrupt or seem insensitive, Lavinia simply listened, growing increasingly worried about James's concern over a single piece of paper.
Eventually James seemed to run out of steam and Sirius jumped on the opportunity, starting a new conversation before his best friend had the chance to get going again. Everyone in the room made an attempt to hide their relief, with varying degrees of success. Lavinia suspected this was not the only rant James had given, judging by how utterly bored with it the other boys seemed to be.
"How are you doing, Vin?" Sirius asked, with the air of someone desperate to change the subject.
Lavinia snorted slightly. They asked this every night and every night her answer was nearly identical to the last. "I'm doing fine," she informed him patiently. "Just like the last seven times you've asked."
Sirius gave a teasing, helpless shrug and quirked a half smile in her direction.
"I don't understand how you're so okay with it," Remus muttered, shaking his head.
Lavinia sighed, knowing they had to ask that at some point. "I've had three months to prepare myself," she explained with a shrug. Then, after a pause. "It is really weird," she admitted, the first time she'd told them anything of her inner feelings on the matter. "To see my friends doing things and not be able to join them."
"Some friends," James muttered almost resentfully.
Lavinia closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself and biting back the habitual burst of anger at an attack on the people she cared about. Once she was convinced she wouldn't snap at him, she turned to meet his gaze, a forced smile on her face. "And what exactly do you mean by that?" she asked with the tone of a person giving someone the chance to backtrack.
But James was, predictably, oblivious and ploughed on. "I just think that if they'd really been your friends, they would have fought a little harder," he said, shrugging and sounding as though he was rather indignant on Lavinia's behalf.
Next to her on the couch Lavinia saw Sirius sigh and drop his head slightly as though he'd seen this coming and knew what Lavinia's response was going to be. At least he'd had the sense not to push it. Not that she was mad at James, not really. He was protective, which she could understand. But he was also occasionally obtuse.
"They were really my friends, James," Lavinia returned with forced calm. "They were given a difficult choice and very little time to make it in."
"And they chose their pureblood prejudices over you," he continued, scoffing slightly. "Doesn't seem like it should have been a difficult choice." And, she supposed, for him, it wouldn't have been. Because James was loyal and brave and had little concept of the kind of controlling fear that could be instilled by abusive family relationships.
"They chose their families and their safety over me," Lavinia corrected, a warning note in her voice. "Would you really have me ask them to trade their parents and their siblings and their wealth and friends and future and safety simply for the sake of my happiness?"
"Well, when you put it that way," James muttered, obviously disgruntled.
"That's how it is," she informed him patiently, though she couldn't keep a certain edge out of her voice. She truly wasn't angry with him. Annoyed maybe, but he'd never had to make choices like that. He'd never been asked which part of his life he wanted to keep. And he didn't understand everything that was holding her friends back. Everything that would have come crashing down if they'd dared to choose Lavinia.
"I think," Remus pitched in, ever the voice of reason, "That James just thinks they should have valued their friendships a little higher."
Lavinia sighed, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "I know," she muttered. "But just because you'd all die for each other doesn't mean that's the only way you can call someone your friend," she pointed out, half teasing. James wrinkled his nose at her sardonic smirk and Peter giggled nervously, as he always did when any of them resolved an almost-argument in front of him. The poor boy wasn't very good at confrontation, in Lavinia's opinion.
Thankfully, they all let the subject drop and the conversation moved on, though Sirius kept glancing at Lavinia and she wasn't entirely sure why. So she ignored him, choosing instead to focus on Peter lamenting the state of his transfiguration work and wondering how the hell he was going to manage to pass his NEWT. It reminded her of years ago, when Reglus had complained about McGonagall's homework and Lavinia had offered to tutor him. That had been a simpler time. A time she wished she could have back.
The words were out of her mouth almost before she could stop them. "I'd be happy to help," she said, dragging herself out of her thoughts to find four pairs of shocked eyes staring at her. "What?" she asked, feigning confusion.
"You mean... during the day?" asked Peter, obviously not believing she was serious in her offer.
"No, in the middle of the night," she returned sarcastically. "Yes during the day, when do you think I do my homework?"
"But... but..." Petter stuttered to a halt, looking around for help.
"I mean I know I'm not as good as Sirius and James, but they also don't try so I thought..." she trailed off, becoming genuinely confused, and slightly hurt, by their surprised stares.
Seeming to sense her anxiety, Sirius put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You're bloody brilliant at Transfiguration, Vin," he said, suppressing an eye roll with only moderate success. "We just... we didn't think you were..." He huffed, pursed his lips for a moment in apparent thought and then started again. "We didn't think you wanted to be around us in public yet," he offered, his voice rather hesitant.
Lavinia's mouth formed a little 'Oh'. She hadn't actually thought of that. She most definitely wasn't ready for that and it was one of the many things she was grateful that they hadn't pushed her about. But... but she'd already offered and it would be rude to take it back. And besides, she supposed it probably had to happen sometime. So she shrugged. "It's not really public," she hedged. "It would be in the library. No one would see us there." Probably, she added silently.
"Maybe if we just did once a week?" asked Peter hopefully and Lavinia smiled, understanding that he was offering to do it far less frequently than he would have liked so she could lessen the chances of someone noticing.
She nodded. "I'm almost always in the library after classes, anyway," she told him. "So just pick a day."
"Tuesday?" he asked. "Then you could help explain the lecture?"
"Sure," she offered, keeping her tone light so as to avoid the sinking fear in her stomach that she knew was foolish but still couldn't seem to shake. Sirius squeezed her shoulder slightly in silent understanding and she shot him a grateful look.
"I don't understand how you spend so much time in the library," James said suddenly. "I mean, aside from dying of boredom being in the same room all day, how are you constantly doing homework?"
Lavinia smiled, suppressing a sigh. "I take more classes than you," she informed him. "And I like the library." It wasn't a lie. She did take far too many classes and she did like the library. But it was also the only place she'd found since the end of break where whispers didn't follow her down the halls and burrow into her head to get stuck there and replayed late at night. It was the only place where she could guarantee silence. Which wasn't nearly as comforting as being surrounded by friends, but it was far better than being surrounded by people who hated her for a decision they hadn't bothered to try to understand.
That was the worst part, really, the words that mimicked her own thoughts and insecurities, that echoed all the doubts she'd had and sometimes still kept about not going back for Easter. It didn't just come from Slytherins anymore either. As though some protective bubble had burst, the rest of the school was suddenly unafraid of her and they made their opinions known. Six and a half years of pent up rage was coming to bear down on her in repayment for the six and a half years she'd spent making cruel remarks, confident in her immunity to their retaliation. So she hid in the library as much as she could, protected by the hawk-like vision and hearing of Madam Pince, who didn't care how angry you were: if you were in her library you'd best shut up.
"Lavinia?" A patient voice jolted her out of her thoughts.
"What?" she asked, looking around to see who was trying to talk to her.
"I think that means it's time we all go to bed," Remus said, mild laughter in his tone.
Lavinia rolled her eyes, but didn't protest. Going to bed meant a quiet walk through the castle with Sirius, which always helped her settle herself. Indeed, he offered her a hand to help her up, which she took and they set off side by side, bidding the others goodnight.
They were only just starting down the first of many flights of stairs when Sirius spoke. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.
Lavinia sighed and shot him an exasperated look, which he ignored. "I keep telling you I'm fine," she reminded him.
"Yes, well." He shrugged.
"You don't believe me?" she asked, trying to decide whether or not that annoyed her.
He gave a quick huff of an exhale and stopped walking. She did too as he turned to face her fully. "No," he admitted bluntly. "I don't believe that you're completely okay."
Lavinia blinked at him for a moment, mulling her response over in her head. "Why not?" she asked finally, both out of curiosity and to buy herself time.
Sirius pressed his lips together in an aggravated smile that said all too clearly that he knew she was avoiding answering honestly. "Because I've heard what they call you," he said finally, and his voice was tense. "I hear the whispers and the insults and..." He broke off and shook his head, sighing. "They make my blood boil, Vin," he admitted. "And I'm not even the one they're directed at I just-" He seemed to catch himself and shook his head a bit. "I just can't imagine how you're so fine with it."
Lavinia watched him silence for a long minute, part of her wondering what he'd been about to say and the other part trying to figure out what the hell she'd done to deserve someone who cared so much. But he did. He cared a hell of a lot and it showed. Which was why she sighed and settled for honesty.
"Fine," she murmured. "I'm not okay with it. I hate it. I hate that I've known them for years and they were so quick to turn away. I hate that they didn't even try to think where I might be coming from. I hate that every other house has decided this means I'm fair game." She paused and shook her head slightly. "I hate that I deserve it."
"You don't," he asserted, without a moment of hesitation. "You don't deserve any of it."
She smiled, the kind of soft smile that meant she appreciated his defense but didn't believe it for a second. "I do," she countered. "No, listen," she added when he opened his mouth to argue. "I was cruel and arrogant and don't deny it. I was a real piece of work and they have a right to be angry about it."
Sirius sighed. "But you're not that person anymore," he insisted. "And who you are now..." He shook his head, a tender expression on his face that spoke of some feeling Lavinia had neither the time nor energy to discern. "You don't deserve that."
"You think too highly of me," she murmured, shaking her head, but smiling all the same.
"And you don't think nearly highly enough of yourself," he returned.
She rolled her eyes and resumed walking. "So you've mentioned. More than once," she pointed out.
"And I will continue to," he assured her, falling into step next to her. "Until you admit that you're a wonderful human being."
"You're gonna be doing it for a while then," she informed him.
"I have all the time in the world," he replied.
"You're hopeless," she teased, glancing up at him with a playful smile.
"Says you," he countered, raising his eyebrows.
"Touche."
He snorted slightly at that and put an arm around her shoulders, giving it a squeeze. She smiled down at the floor as she walked and when he made an attempt to pull his arm away, she placed her hand on top of the one he had resting on her shoulder to keep it there. She didn't look up at him, though she could practically feel his eyes on her like a physical weight.
She didn't entirely know why she was doing it, though that tender look he'd given her kept replaying in her head. All she knew was that it felt nice, to have someone's protection, someone's warmth. It felt nice to feel cared for. And she didn't want that to go away.
A/N: I discovered something today. Apparently it's not normal (?) to have like 3 trains of thought running simultaneously? Like, I know I'm a tangential thinker and go from point A to point B while skipping about 7 points in between, but my mother got mildly freaked out today when I just totally switched thoughts without any pause or warning (I was in a hurry and things to say). But like... I do that a lot? Example: I was in the middle of writing a chapter today and, midway through typing a sentence, I took a detour to google the current flavors at my favorite ice cream shop (if anyone was curious, no they didn't have the flavor I was hoping for, which was Coffee Brownie, or Bailey's Irish Cream, both are amazing and together, they are the best thing since Ben and Jerry's Half Baked). And then I just went back to writing and picked up where I left off. I don't know if this is one of those, I need tons of stimulation to distract me from things or just a normal thing that my mother happens to not do. Then again, I also spent like 15 minutes drafting a message to a friend that basically amounted to "sorry, that doesn't work, can we do the next day?" (Anxiety, is that you?), so who am I to talk about normal.
This has been another fun and random rant that probably means its time for me to go do something mindless that doesn't require too much thinking because wow I am all over the place right now.
Anyway, as always, I hope y'all enjoyed and I'll be back again tomorrow with more actual content and fun detours :P
P.S. I just spent 5 minutes trying to come up with the word neurotypical. My search history is fucking hilarious right now.