“You alright there, Seamus?” Neville Longbottom asked, as he leaned against a stony wall, analyzing his friend who was sitting crisscrossed on his cot, his shoulders slumped. The sandy haired, Irish boy of seventeen just merely nodded without looking up.
“I’m fine Neville.” Seamus finally croaked. “Me ribs just hurt, that’s all.” Wincing, Seamus tried to lower himself to lie down, but that couldn’t have been achieved without a few groans and whimpers of pain.
“Here, let me.” Neville offered, as Seamus struggled to straighten up his pillow. The cot creaked a bit under his weight, and though it wasn’t very comfortable, Seamus couldn’t help but appreciate the blanket that Neville tucked over him.
“I feel so useless,” Seamus muttered, and Neville chuckled slightly at his complaint.
“You’ll be fine, Seamus. It’s a shame Madame Pomfrey can’t patch you up. Bloody Carrows.” Seamus watched as darkness clouded over his friends face. “Is there anything I could get for you?” Seamus weakly shook his head, and Neville frowned. “Are you sure? I could send Terry out to sneak you something from the kitchens…” he offered, but Seamus took out his hand and waved dismissively.
“Don’t worry about me, Neville.” was all he said as he watched the ceiling blankly. It had been three months since Hogwarts had started. Three months since hell on earth was introduced. Two months since they have been camping out in the Room of Requirement. Two months since people slowly began to join their refuge.
“I should’ve been there for you.” Neville whispered as he watched a specific first year read a book at the opposite side of the room, tucked snuggly into his cot. “You were no match for both of them,”
“Cut off it, Neville.” Seamus muttered. “As if dragging you into the mess would’ve helped. Besides, I’m glad I stepped in. They were going to practice the Cruciatus Curse on a first year. I couldn’t just stop and watch.” Neville glanced through the corner of his eyes, spying Seamus toying with the blanket’s loose thread.
“The bastards,” Seamus continued. “They slammed me repeatedly onto the floor and walls. It left me ribs pretty bruised up and broken, eh?” He asked, as he turned to face Neville. Neville winced. When he and Michael Corner found Seamus unconscious on the fourth floor of an abandoned corridor, they found him limply lying there, blood flowing from his nostrils and mouth. When they brought him back, and tore his shirt off to be changed, they found his ribs to be blue and purple. Lavender Brown and Hannah Abbot, who had been tending to everyone’s cuts and bruises, hurried over and helped tend to the boy’s misfortune, bandaging and healing what they could.
“Yeah,” Neville spoke up at last. “The Slytherins banged you up pretty well.” Seamus snorted as he returned his gaze to the ceiling. Neville watched Hannah Abbot from afar, her small hands disinfecting Cormac McLaggen’s arm, which was sliced open by a reckless third year in Slytherin house.
“I’m going to go chat with Hannah.” Neville said absent mindedly, and Seamus snorted, slightly amused. As Neville left the side of his cot, Seamus lifted his head slightly, only enough to see Neville make his way towards a concentrating blonde witch, stitching up a fellow Gryffindor’s arm. Seamus grinned before settling himself back into his pillow.
Where were Harry, Ron, and Hermione now? Seamus was pretty sure Harry was off doing something to save the Wizarding World from You-Know-Who, and Ron was probably tagging along. Hermione was most likely with them, but of course, Hermione couldn’t have come back anyway. She was a muggleborn and supposed to be on the run, like Dean. Seamus’ stomach twisted in an uncomfortable knot. Dean. He missed his best friend dearly, and it pained him to not have heard anything from him. Then again, he hadn’t heard from anyone outside the castle. The only outside knowledge anyone in the Room of Requirement had, was the information provided on Potterwatch, which even then, didn’t provide information on a daily basis.
“How are you feeling?” Asked a feminine voice, and Seamus jumped slightly. He hadn’t heard that voice in a while. Turning his head to the left, he found Lavender Brown sitting on a chair beside his cot.
“Lavender.” He croaked. The girl only gave him a sad smile before rummaging into a small basket that sat on her lap. “What brings you here, to…er…me bedside?” Lavender chuckled before pulling out a small bottle.
“I need to check if you have a fever.” She said quietly, as she stood up. Placing her hand gently on his forehead she frowned slightly. Seamus took note of how soft and cool her palm felt against his skin.
“You’re frowning at me, lass. What’s wrong?” Lavender sighed.
“You’re running a fever, Seamus.” She said. “I think it’s time you take your pain reliever.” Suddenly, a small dosage cup appeared by Seamus’ side table, and Lavender lifted it in front of her, pouring a small dosage of thick, red, syrup into the dosage cup, eying it carefully so not to go over the given dosage. Handing Seamus his medicine, Seamus took it and swallowed the pain reliever, disgusted at how it tasted.
“That was bloody terrible.” He muttered, handing the dosage cup back to Lavender. Lavender placed it in the basket before sitting back down in her chair beside Seamus. The boy eyed her closely. She wasn’t the same Lavender he remembered her as. Her usually wavy/curly dirty blonde hair was now stringy, and she was a whole lot quieter and more somber. Her perky face had grown slightly thin, and in her eyes, Seamus saw a blend of sadness, confusion, and loneliness.
“Where’s Parvati?” He asked, noting the absence of Lavender’s best friend. Lavender merely shrugged.
“She’s over there, comforting her sister.” She whispered, pointing to a corner in the far back corner of the room. Seamus didn’t bother to lift up his neck; his bones were becoming achy again.
“So,” He began awkwardly. He wasn’t used to this quiet Lavender. He remembered bringing her to the Yule Ball in 4th year. She was beautiful, cheery, and couldn’t stop talking. It wasn’t hard to talk back then, but now it was so awkward. “Lavender Brown taking up healing, eh?” he teased, painting a horrid attempt of a smile on his face. Lavender turned to him, rather alarmed with eyebrows raised, before she rolled her eyes, her lips in a slight smile.
“That was pitiful.” She muttered, but Seamus could hear a soft laughter in her voice. “Yes, I suppose you can say I took up healing.” Seamus straightened up in his cot, now eying Lavender intently. Lavender was always vain, a bit silly and childish, but now, he could see there was a drastic change in her. He just didn’t understand.
“Why?” was all he said, and Lavender once again rolled her eyes. Very Lavender-like. Seamus noted to himself.
“Because,” She began. “People are getting hurt, and it isn’t just about me anymore, or my personal happiness. When I see cut up first years, I want to hug them and take their pain away. This isn’t 5th year anymore. The Carrows…they’re worse than that Hag. They’re hurting us. Inflicting pain. It’s time to grow up.” She whispered, and she began to twirl a loose piece of string hanging off her sleeves.
“I want to help. You, Neville and Ginny have already found this safe Haven for us. The least I can do is return some hospitality and help as well.” Lavender paused and took a deep breath. “When they dragged you in, all bloody and bruised, it astounded me. So many kids come in crying, with cuts and bruises, but to see someone I personally know, someone who I danced with, someone I dated, even for just one night, get hurt, it’s mortifying.” Lavender looked away, and Seamus stared at the girl before him in awe. He had never seen her look so torn yet compassionate.
“This war,” She began. “It’s changing us. It’s changed me.” She swallowed and began to bite her lip. Turning back to face Seamus, she flushed a bright crimson. Seamus couldn’t help but note how pale Lavender had gotten.
“I should leave you to rest now.” Lavender said quickly, standing up. But before Seamus could open his mouth and tell her to stay, she already hurried off, drifting to find Parvati and Padma.
Seamus opened his eyes to find himself staring up at the ceiling. It had been a few weeks since his ribs had been bruised and broken. They had now fully healed and he was just taking in as much rest as he could. He hadn’t exactly gone up to his classes anymore. In fact, quite a few of the kids hiding in the growing refuge had begun to put off some of their classes as well, not wanting to leave the safety of their Haven. It had also been a few weeks since he had spoken to Lavender. The most contact he had with her was an exchange of a few smiles, a few smile that didn’t exactly hold true or full happiness.
Seamus lied there, staring at the darkened ceiling as the lit candles flickered and illuminated the stone walls. Everyone was asleep, except for one person who would be guarding the Room of Requirement’s entrance. Seamus closed his eyes, hoping the silence would lull him back to unconsciousness, when he heard a faint sniffle. Ignoring it, he thought of the lullaby his mother would hum to him every night when he was younger. It was silly, but it was one of the few things that brought him comfort these days.
He wondered how his mother was. If she was still alive. If she was still well. His heart was worried sick for her, and there were countless days when he wished he could just owl her, or leave this god forsaken castle.
When the sniffling did not stop, Seamus’ eyes opened, as he forced himself to sit up. Looking around the room, he found everyone still soundlessly sleeping, apart from a hunched over figure sitting by the entrance door. Her straggly blonde hair draping over her face, her body slightly quivering. The figure was clearly crying.
Standing up, Seamus slowly made his way to the crying girl and decided to sit beside her on the bench. Not knowing what else to do, he snaked his arm around her shoulders and drew her to him, comfortingly. The sign of support and affection was enough for Lavender to break into fresh sobs as she cried into Seamus’ shirt.
Seamus was baffled. Did he do something wrong? He didn’t expect Lavender to cry only harder.
“I want to go home.” Lavender croaked. “Seamus, take me home.” Seamus couldn’t do anything, and didn’t know what to say, so instead he just bowed his head and whispered in his most soothing tone;
“Don’t worry, lass, it’ll all be over soon.”
Over time Lavender’s sobs began to subdue, her body still slightly shaking, but her cries were finally winding down. Neither of them had moved and Lavender was still caught in Seamus’ embrace. Seamus knew that Lavender went to class today. He knew the Carrows were still being as cruel as ever. He knew the Slytherins were now allowed to whip out there wands and preform torturous methods on their fellow classmates. What he didn’t know was if Lavender suffered from any of their wraths, and the thought of Lavender being tossed around like a rag doll haunted him.
An hour had now passed and Seamus noticed the girl in his arms was breathing deeply. Lavender was asleep, and carefully, Seamus scooped her up in his arms and made his way towards her cot. Tugging the blankets away, he laid the sleeping girl upon the cot and tucked her in, then swept away a few stray locks from her face. He noted how peaceful she looked when sleeping, and how she didn’t look so tired or miserable. Perhaps she was dreaming? And of what about? Shaking his head, Seamus turned on his heel and collapsed on the bench beside the entrance door. Lavender was supposed to take watch tonight, but he wasn’t going to wake her. She needed her rest, so he took her shift instead.
Lavender was running, shooting spells at masked men with black, hooded cloaks. Death Eaters. Sprinting up a staircase she turned around a corner and crouched behind a suit of armor, clutching her chest and wheezing. It wasn’t too long ago had the battle of Hogwarts begun and all hell broke loose. She tried her best to keep up with Seamus, but somewhere along the way, the couple had split up amongst the commotion. She wanted him now. She wanted to hold his hand and run with him, to fight by his side. She wanted to hide here until she heard his voice. His Irish accent. The voice that made her truly melt.
But she also knew that she shouldn’t hide here. That she wasn’t safe here, in her little spot behind the suit of armor. Her classmates were out there now, risking their lives, and here she was, hiding. If someone killed her in this spot, she would’ve died as a coward. And nothing was as bad as a coward. Taking a deep breath, she peered from behind the suit of armor, only to find a witch by the name of Nymphadora Tonks, dueling the mask-less Death Eater, Rodolphus Lestrange. Closing her eyes, she bolted out from behind the armored suit, and began to aid Tonks, who seemed to be faring quite well on her own.
A jet of green light whizzed inches above Lavender as she squatted down to dodge the irreversible curse. She wasn’t going to die now. She didn’t want to die now.
“Lupin!” Lestrange snarled as he shot another killing curse towards Lavender. Lavender sidestepped out of the way before she sent a full-body bind his direction, which to her disappointment, he dodged aside to.
“I think its best you leave,” Nymphadora shouted over her shoulder to Lavender who now watched Lestrange fire spells at Tonks and her husband, who she noticed was Remus Lupin, her past professor from third year. Lavender felt torn between wanting to help and wanting to run, but when Tonks shot her one last warning glance, Lavender sped off, not looking back. As she turned at the corner of the corridor, she could hear an ear splitting cry of a woman behind her, and could see the illuminating green light reflect off the stone walls. She could hear the scream of Lupin cry bloody murder. And then there was another reflection of green light. And silence. She could feel the tears threaten to fall, and before she knew it, she was running blind. She had just left them there to die. She should’ve stayed. She could’ve helped. What kind of Gryffindor was she?
She could hear the yells and rumbles of the war shaking beneath her feet, just another floor down. She watched as stone fell and toppled over the staircase—her school falling apart right in front of her very eyes. What she didn’t notice was a figure lunge themselves onto her, and within moments, a stench of blood, sweat, and matted animal hair filled her nostrils. She could feel her body slam onto the pristine floor, her head smashing close in second onto the tile. A painful scream erupted from her chest as she yelled out in agony.
“Look what I’ve caught here,” Simpered a gluttonous voice, and Lavender could smell the reek of raw and rotten meat from his mouth. “I’ve caught myself a delicious meal.” He whispered, and she could feel his fingernails graze her forehead. “Such a pretty little face. I could only imagine the fun I’ll have eating you.” Lavender groaned, but she couldn’t get up. She could feel his strong arms pinning her down as he knelt at her side. In her brain, however, she was panicking. He was no doubt a werewolf, come to dispose her and rip the flesh off her bone. She could feel his hot breath come closer to his skin, but where he was going to bite, she had no clue…
Seamus was running, running as fast as his legs could take him.
“Lavender!” He cried, as he shot numerous spells to Death Eaters around him. “LAVENDER!” Seamus could feel the blood pumping in his head. He lost her. She was right there beside him, but then he lost her.
Oh Merlin, please! He begged. Please, let her be safe. As he skidded his way to the grounds to help defend Hogwarts from the outside, he could hear the screaming of a familiar feminine voice.
*“HARRY, COME ON!”* The figure screamed desperately, and only one name registered in Seamus’ mind. Hermione.
Sprinting off to the Golden Trio’s direction, he could feel the sudden change in atmosphere: coldness, hopelessness, despair. Like he could never be happy again…
“We’re right behind you Seamus,” called a dreamy voice behind him, and Seamus allowed himself to crane his neck to the left. Running right beside him was Luna Lovegood, grey eyes brightly shining with determination, her long locks of blonde hair sailing behind her. Ernie Macmillan was in synch with Seamus, his wand drawn as he accompanied them to the right.
As they neared closer, they could see the figures of Ron, Harry and Hermione, surrounded by Dementors swooping in and out, taking bits of their soul as they swooped by. They watched as their patronuses falter and dissolve into nothing, their hope drifting away.
Think of something happy, think of something happy! Seamus wracked his brain for any happy memory. Any at all.
And that’s when he thought of her, as he took her hand for a dance at the Yule Ball. Her hair was styled in soft, elegant curls that perfectly framed her beautiful face. Her dress hugged her hips quite nicely and he remembered how perfect her hand had fit in his. They were only 14-15 at the time, only going as friends, but now as he thought of it, she was always a stunning, beautiful lass. The way she smiled and laughed, as childish as it was, for the silliest of reasons, it was youthful and innocent. Her buoyant attitude had flair in it, and he remembered how gracefully she spun when he twirled her around that night; or how bright her eyes sparkled when he pulled away from giving her a friendly hug, a gesture of just being friends.
And the he remembered how they survived this year—together. How he held her when she cried and how her soft hands would touch his skin, whenever she tended to the cuts and bruises that ran across his arms, his chest, his face. He remembered when he first kissed her, her lips were warm and full of life, like an addicting shot of Firewhiskey. He remember how she tasted. He remembered every caress. He remembered every heart-felt, down-to-earth conversation they had. And he reflected how that silly girl had grown into a mature and careful woman.
He remembered that night when they shared cots, because she was coming down with the flu and was shivering cold. The smell of her hair was true to her name—a blissful lavender.
And as he dwelled on the past, he dared himself to foolishly imagine a future. The war would be over, and they would be married. They would be walking down a beach, the sand between their toes, the water gently crashing onto their ankles, the sun setting and burning in a deep orange. And they’d be laughing, her body pressed against his as he had an arm wrapped around her waist.
Yes, he was foolish enough to become hopeful of said future, and with all these thoughts circulating in his mind, a lucid fox erupted from the tip of his wand and gracefully chased the Dementors away…
Seamus could feel the tears slide down his cheeks. There, lying there, lifeless and eyes closed was the girl he had grown to love. He was sitting beside her dead body, stroking her forehead which had gone stiff and cold, and he allowed himself to slide his fingers into her hair. Her beautiful hair.
Oh, Merlin! He thought to himself as he looked up, trying to blink away the tears. He sniffled and looked back down to Lavender’s peaceful face, blood smeared on her cheek.
“Oh, Fawkes, Lavender!” He whimpered as he bowed his head, his body beginning to shake uncontrollably. The bastard! Seamus thought to himself. Whoever was the bloody bastard who took her away from me, had better pray for their lives.
Sobbing still, he wiped the tears away with his sleeves and reached over to grab Lavender’s hand. He noted how it still fit perfectly in his, which sent a knife piercing at his heart. He wasn’t sure how, but somewhere inside told him that she was his one. He uncurled her fingers in his hand, and brought the lifeless limb up to his lips. Pressing a kiss to her cold skin, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
She was dead. Taken from him forever. And the worst part was, was that he never had the chance to truly call her his own. She never had the chance to call herself a Finnigan. And he never had the chance to tell her that he loved her the proper way, on his knee with a ring that could’ve slid perfectly into her finger.
Hello all. So, I really wanted to write a Seamus/Lavender fic, that was angst and sort of showed a more grown up side to Lavender. This takes place during their 7th year, in which the Carrows have took over the school. I believe because of this, it was possible that Lavender sort of matured due to the nature of how Hogwarts was like.
I did end up killing Lavender though, because even though it was unknown whether she survived Fenrir’s attack or died by it in the books, she did get killed off in the film; and at the rate of how the story was going, I sort of didn’t want to end it on a happy note. I know the ending seemed a bit anti-climactic, but I didn’t exactly want to over emphasize on her death. I didn’t exactly feel comfortable establishing a funeral for her, and I dunno. I just felt satisfied ending it there. Please tell me what you think. Opinions are greatly admired!
*line taken from page 648, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, US edition
Anything that you recognize belongs to JK Rowling.
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