Part IX: Learn a thing or two approaching Lavender (23 December, 2002)
Title: Tart Noir Around and About Vertick Alley
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tart Noir, crime-romance
Pairings: Lavender/Zacharias, Draco/Ron, Susan/Blaise, Zacharias/Ginny ...
Summary: Lavender Brown is part of the investigation into the murders of the children of Death Eaters and is madly in love with her flatmate and best friend, Zacharias Smith. Ron Weasley is babysitting Draco Malfoy and sick of being gay in a terribly straight Wizarding World. Susan Bones doesn't get patronuses and is not having a relationship with Blaise Zabini. Zacharias Smith is sick of his job and thinks he might ask Ginny Weasley to move in with him. Mr Darcy, the flatmate's cat, thinks they're all bloody ridiculous. Four twenty-one year olds suffering with work, love and life.
Notes: Thank you for the support thus far, everyone. I'm sorry, but it has to get worse before it can get better.
It’s terrible and hypocritical of me, after having just told him to get out on no uncertain terms, but I am furious when Zacharias just leaves me there.
So, after pulling on some robes, I go for a walk to clear my head. A walk that leads me directly to Parvati’s lush Diagon Alley apartment with Harry Potter. And I almost walk straight into him.
“Harry,” I say, blushing madly. God, I must look terrible.
“Hey Lavender,” he says, taking a quick look at me and obviously deciding that he doesn’t want to know. “Parvati’s inside.”
“Thanks.” I wave goodbye and rush up the stairs and burst through the door to find Parvati with a wand pointed directly at my chest. “Vati?”
Her eyes are wide and frightened and the fact that she’s brandishing a wand at my chest in this condition is not remotely comforting. “Oh Merlin!” she cries. “Lav.” She lets out a breath she had clearly been holding in and puts down the wand. Then she collapses into an armchair, crying.
And I’m over by her in a moment, present Zacharias woes pushed to the bottom of the metaphorical list, draping an arm around her shoulders and letting her use my robes to wipe eyeliner gunk that’s watering away from her eyes.
“Sorry,” she says, laughing through her tears. “I’m such an idiot.”
“What’s wrong?”
She laughs, and chokes. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know!” And she is crying again, wailing eye makeup into my robes.
I pull out my wand and flick it towards the kettle, which starts to boil. “Now,” I say. “Tell me what the matter is.”
She draws a deep, juttering breath. “I think I’m being followed. Last night I walked home after dinner with Padma and my mother and there were footsteps following me.”
“It could just be a coincidence.”
“And someone hissing at me in the darkness and telling me that I’m going to die is a coincidence?”
“Well, you didn’t mention that part.” I shiver, but I have to stay strong for her, and levitate the kettle. “You need to talk to the Aurors. I can see someone when I get to work. Or talk to Ron. He’s in law enforcement.”
“You’re doing a Hermione Granger,” Parvati says, lower lip trembling. “Practical approaches to disaster.”
“It’s what you need to do though.”
“I know,” she agrees. “I’m just too scared to leave the house. What if they’re out there?”
“I’ll be with you the whole time. Promise.”
“Can we go in the afternoon though? I swore I’d get some work done this morning.” She rolls her eyes. “And I told Harry I’d pack for our Christmas at the Burrow.”
“Wait. Does Harry know about this?”
She looks at her feet. “No.”
“Parvati!”
“He’ll panic and get Aurors stationed and cancel the wedding and I just want things to be normal, Lav.” She’s almost hysterical and I hug her, rocking her slightly back and forwards.
“It’s okay, Parvati. It’ll be alright.” I pour her a cup of tea and force it into her hands.
By the time she’s finished the tea, she has calmed down. “Why were you coming by so early in the morning, Lav?”
It seems so long ago. “Zacharias. We slept together.”
Parvati gasps. “What?” Then she cracks a grin. “You fast worker, you. Only took you two years to get him into bed.”
“He and Ginny had a fight, he came home drunk, we both couldn’t resist and now I’ve lost one of my best mates.”
“Poor baby. You’ve still got me. I’ll never ruin our friendship for one torrid night of passion.”
I laugh. “It’s weird. Being with him makes me realise that I’m not just kidding myself and that it is more than a dumb crush. Still,” I sigh. “I’ll get over it. Him.”
“And one day, the right man will come along and he’ll fall head-over-heels for you.”
“And I’ll have to tell him, sorry, I’m emotionally attached to an utter bastard.”
“Or you could fall right back for him and marry and live happily ever after.”
“I don’t believe in them.”
“What? Devastatingly handsome young men or happy endings?”
“Everything ends in death eventually.”
“You’re so angsty,” Parvati says, smiling. “Think of all the fabulous stuff before that - the sex, the magic, the work, the friendship.”
“And then you die.” I grin. “I’m only kidding. You know I don’t think like that. Happy endings are a bit too easy. I never liked Cinderella. She’s marrying a man she’s danced with for a couple of hours and who is only marrying her because she has the right size feet. How’s that ever going to work out?”
Parvati smiles. “She gets fabulous shoes though. Look, I really need to get this work sorted out. You can stay if you’ve nothing better to do. I’m over my spaz attack.” I give her a look. “No, really. I am. Call it temporary insanity.”
“I have a few errands to run then. I’ll pop back in an hour or so. Send me a message the minute you feel ill at ease and I’ll be there.” I kiss her on both cheeks, the French way. Just how she likes it.
“Miss you already.”
As I walk down the street, I am accosted by Rita Skeeter. How she knows who I am, I don’t know.
“Miss Brown, could I have a minute?”
“Not for you,” I reply.
It doesn’t put her off. “Is there anything you can tell me about the Bullstrode case? Do you think we may have a serial killer?”
“Judging by your articles, I think you already know more than you should.”
“The public has a right to know the truth, Miss Brown.”
“Good day, Miss Skeeter.” Harry’d be proud of me.
I spend the next couple of hours doing my last minute Christmas shopping. Silk stockings for Parvati, fudge for Ron, a plain silver bracelet for Susan, naughty shot glasses for Seamus. I resist the urge to go back to the flat and sectusempra the stuffing out of the toy weasel I got Zacharias earlier in the month. I bump into Seamus as I’m coming out of Flourish and Blotts with Eagle feather quills for Padma and Hermione, and a book entitled ‘So You’re Dating Jailbait …’ for Kingsley. “Lavvy-licious, my darling, my dream. It’s been too long.”
“A whole twelve hours,” I remark dryly.
“Time goes so slowly when we’re apart.” He wipes an imaginary tear from his eyes. “Do you have time in your busy schedule for ice cream?”
We settle into a booth at Florence Fortescue’s, wife of Florian who was found dead two years after his disappearance. We chat and gossip meaninglessly, swap present ideas and decide to go halves on a set of sexy lingerie for Pansy. I am delegated to the task of buying it, which I think is unfair, but Seamus says that I won’t be arrested for loitering in the ladies’ underwear department. He has a point I guess. “So,” Seamus says, feigning a casual voice. “How’s Zacharias?”
“Well, he’s probably nursing his hangover,” I reply, acidically.
“Went that well, huh?”
“Oh, the night went fabulously well. It was the waking up naked and on the floor that was the real downer.” I run him through the whole sordid affair.
“That idiot,” Seamus mutters. “I told him to talk to you, not fuck you.”
“Well, males think with their dicks, don’t they?”
“If we’re going that road, I have one question.” He looks at me seriously. “Was he good?”
I grin despite myself. “Better than you.”
He gasps. “You said I was the only one for you.”
“And then you left me high and dry to moon over some Indian tart,” I retort. “What was I supposed to do?”
“I was hoping you’d have higher standards. I could cope with you scorning me for a Blaise Zabini or an Oliver Wood.” He laughs. Then, “I don’t think you need to worry too much about his reaction. He’s a very confused boy and it may take him a while to stop seeing you as a friend and instead as someone with breasts.”
“That was almost intelligent,” I say.
“Didn’t get promoted before you for nothing,” he grins. I punch him in the shoulder.
“We do not speak of that.”
Seamus walks me back to Parvati’s flat, offering to carry my bags in an attempt to find out what I’ve got him for Christmas. “You’re such a little boy,” I say, thwapping his hand away for the last time.
I get this sense of foreboding as we get closer to their end of Diagon Alley. It’s my inner eye, Ron often jokes. Seriously though, something’s wrong.
“Hey, there’s all these reporters and law enforcement people hanging about …” Seamus falls silent as he realises. “It could be another block of flats, another apartment.”
And I’m running because if I don’t run fast enough something terrible will happen. And something dreadful has already happened. I run straight into Ron.
“Lavender,” he says. His voice is hoarse. “There’s been another attack.”
“WHERE IS SHE?” I scream. “WHERE’S PARVATI?” Seamus has just caught up and he is holding me back as I try to pummel my way past Ron.
Ron catches my hands. “She’s in a critical condition.” Some of the fog lifts. Alive? “The Healers arrived about ten minutes ago and took her to London.”
I sink down onto the cobbled pavement. “Oh thank God.” Beside me, Seamus breathes a sigh of relief, but doesn’t let go of me. “Is it the same person?”
Ron looks uneasy. “Well, we don’t know for sure …”
“But it makes no sense. Parvati’s family was staunchly uninvolved in the War.”
“You’d best talk to Kingsley. He’s processing the scene.”
“Where’s Padma?” Seamus asks abruptly.
“Oh shit!” I gasp at the same time. “Harry.”
Ron’s freckles stand out against his pale face. “He’s not in good shape, Lavender. He’s devastated. Hermione’s with him.”
“I want to see him.”
“I don’t know-“
“Please, Ron.” If I can’t see Parvati yet, I have to see Harry. I don’t know why, I just do.
“Alright. Seamus, Padma’s back at the lab. She insists she’s fine.” Seamus has apparated before he even finishes the sentence. “Seamus Finnegan, a grown up. That’s a sight I never thought I’d see.” He smiles shakily and leads me over to an emergency tent set up on the side of the road. “Hermione? Lavender’s here.”
“I don’t know if this is a good time,” Hermione says.
“Let her in.” Harry’s voice. Dead, flat.
I step inside.
Once my eyes have adjusted to the dimness of the tent, lit only by Hermione’s wand, I am able to make out Harry and Hermione in some detail. Harry’s sitting on a makeshift bed, holding a mug of tea, which he is staring at blankly. I sit down beside him and touch his hand. It’s freezing. “Hey.”
He turns to look at me and his eyes; I haven’t seen them like that since Luna Lovegood was lost in the War.
“She was being stalked. She told me this morning. We were going to go to the Aurors in the afternoon.”
“I don’t think that’s very helpful, Lavender,” Hermione says.
“Leave us alone for a moment, Hermione,” Harry says. Hermione slips out and Harry burries his head in my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry.” I repeat myself. Again and again and again. Because if I repeat it, it’ll make everything better. It’s like clapping if you believe in fairies. It works every time. Harry’s crying, thick, aching sobs, and I hold him in my arms. “She’ll be alright. She’ll get through this.”
But will we?
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tart Noir, crime-romance
Pairings: Lavender/Zacharias, Draco/Ron, Susan/Blaise, Zacharias/Ginny ...
Summary: Lavender Brown is part of the investigation into the murders of the children of Death Eaters and is madly in love with her flatmate and best friend, Zacharias Smith. Ron Weasley is babysitting Draco Malfoy and sick of being gay in a terribly straight Wizarding World. Susan Bones doesn't get patronuses and is not having a relationship with Blaise Zabini. Zacharias Smith is sick of his job and thinks he might ask Ginny Weasley to move in with him. Mr Darcy, the flatmate's cat, thinks they're all bloody ridiculous. Four twenty-one year olds suffering with work, love and life.
Notes: Thank you for the support thus far, everyone. I'm sorry, but it has to get worse before it can get better.
It’s terrible and hypocritical of me, after having just told him to get out on no uncertain terms, but I am furious when Zacharias just leaves me there.
So, after pulling on some robes, I go for a walk to clear my head. A walk that leads me directly to Parvati’s lush Diagon Alley apartment with Harry Potter. And I almost walk straight into him.
“Harry,” I say, blushing madly. God, I must look terrible.
“Hey Lavender,” he says, taking a quick look at me and obviously deciding that he doesn’t want to know. “Parvati’s inside.”
“Thanks.” I wave goodbye and rush up the stairs and burst through the door to find Parvati with a wand pointed directly at my chest. “Vati?”
Her eyes are wide and frightened and the fact that she’s brandishing a wand at my chest in this condition is not remotely comforting. “Oh Merlin!” she cries. “Lav.” She lets out a breath she had clearly been holding in and puts down the wand. Then she collapses into an armchair, crying.
And I’m over by her in a moment, present Zacharias woes pushed to the bottom of the metaphorical list, draping an arm around her shoulders and letting her use my robes to wipe eyeliner gunk that’s watering away from her eyes.
“Sorry,” she says, laughing through her tears. “I’m such an idiot.”
“What’s wrong?”
She laughs, and chokes. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know!” And she is crying again, wailing eye makeup into my robes.
I pull out my wand and flick it towards the kettle, which starts to boil. “Now,” I say. “Tell me what the matter is.”
She draws a deep, juttering breath. “I think I’m being followed. Last night I walked home after dinner with Padma and my mother and there were footsteps following me.”
“It could just be a coincidence.”
“And someone hissing at me in the darkness and telling me that I’m going to die is a coincidence?”
“Well, you didn’t mention that part.” I shiver, but I have to stay strong for her, and levitate the kettle. “You need to talk to the Aurors. I can see someone when I get to work. Or talk to Ron. He’s in law enforcement.”
“You’re doing a Hermione Granger,” Parvati says, lower lip trembling. “Practical approaches to disaster.”
“It’s what you need to do though.”
“I know,” she agrees. “I’m just too scared to leave the house. What if they’re out there?”
“I’ll be with you the whole time. Promise.”
“Can we go in the afternoon though? I swore I’d get some work done this morning.” She rolls her eyes. “And I told Harry I’d pack for our Christmas at the Burrow.”
“Wait. Does Harry know about this?”
She looks at her feet. “No.”
“Parvati!”
“He’ll panic and get Aurors stationed and cancel the wedding and I just want things to be normal, Lav.” She’s almost hysterical and I hug her, rocking her slightly back and forwards.
“It’s okay, Parvati. It’ll be alright.” I pour her a cup of tea and force it into her hands.
By the time she’s finished the tea, she has calmed down. “Why were you coming by so early in the morning, Lav?”
It seems so long ago. “Zacharias. We slept together.”
Parvati gasps. “What?” Then she cracks a grin. “You fast worker, you. Only took you two years to get him into bed.”
“He and Ginny had a fight, he came home drunk, we both couldn’t resist and now I’ve lost one of my best mates.”
“Poor baby. You’ve still got me. I’ll never ruin our friendship for one torrid night of passion.”
I laugh. “It’s weird. Being with him makes me realise that I’m not just kidding myself and that it is more than a dumb crush. Still,” I sigh. “I’ll get over it. Him.”
“And one day, the right man will come along and he’ll fall head-over-heels for you.”
“And I’ll have to tell him, sorry, I’m emotionally attached to an utter bastard.”
“Or you could fall right back for him and marry and live happily ever after.”
“I don’t believe in them.”
“What? Devastatingly handsome young men or happy endings?”
“Everything ends in death eventually.”
“You’re so angsty,” Parvati says, smiling. “Think of all the fabulous stuff before that - the sex, the magic, the work, the friendship.”
“And then you die.” I grin. “I’m only kidding. You know I don’t think like that. Happy endings are a bit too easy. I never liked Cinderella. She’s marrying a man she’s danced with for a couple of hours and who is only marrying her because she has the right size feet. How’s that ever going to work out?”
Parvati smiles. “She gets fabulous shoes though. Look, I really need to get this work sorted out. You can stay if you’ve nothing better to do. I’m over my spaz attack.” I give her a look. “No, really. I am. Call it temporary insanity.”
“I have a few errands to run then. I’ll pop back in an hour or so. Send me a message the minute you feel ill at ease and I’ll be there.” I kiss her on both cheeks, the French way. Just how she likes it.
“Miss you already.”
As I walk down the street, I am accosted by Rita Skeeter. How she knows who I am, I don’t know.
“Miss Brown, could I have a minute?”
“Not for you,” I reply.
It doesn’t put her off. “Is there anything you can tell me about the Bullstrode case? Do you think we may have a serial killer?”
“Judging by your articles, I think you already know more than you should.”
“The public has a right to know the truth, Miss Brown.”
“Good day, Miss Skeeter.” Harry’d be proud of me.
I spend the next couple of hours doing my last minute Christmas shopping. Silk stockings for Parvati, fudge for Ron, a plain silver bracelet for Susan, naughty shot glasses for Seamus. I resist the urge to go back to the flat and sectusempra the stuffing out of the toy weasel I got Zacharias earlier in the month. I bump into Seamus as I’m coming out of Flourish and Blotts with Eagle feather quills for Padma and Hermione, and a book entitled ‘So You’re Dating Jailbait …’ for Kingsley. “Lavvy-licious, my darling, my dream. It’s been too long.”
“A whole twelve hours,” I remark dryly.
“Time goes so slowly when we’re apart.” He wipes an imaginary tear from his eyes. “Do you have time in your busy schedule for ice cream?”
We settle into a booth at Florence Fortescue’s, wife of Florian who was found dead two years after his disappearance. We chat and gossip meaninglessly, swap present ideas and decide to go halves on a set of sexy lingerie for Pansy. I am delegated to the task of buying it, which I think is unfair, but Seamus says that I won’t be arrested for loitering in the ladies’ underwear department. He has a point I guess. “So,” Seamus says, feigning a casual voice. “How’s Zacharias?”
“Well, he’s probably nursing his hangover,” I reply, acidically.
“Went that well, huh?”
“Oh, the night went fabulously well. It was the waking up naked and on the floor that was the real downer.” I run him through the whole sordid affair.
“That idiot,” Seamus mutters. “I told him to talk to you, not fuck you.”
“Well, males think with their dicks, don’t they?”
“If we’re going that road, I have one question.” He looks at me seriously. “Was he good?”
I grin despite myself. “Better than you.”
He gasps. “You said I was the only one for you.”
“And then you left me high and dry to moon over some Indian tart,” I retort. “What was I supposed to do?”
“I was hoping you’d have higher standards. I could cope with you scorning me for a Blaise Zabini or an Oliver Wood.” He laughs. Then, “I don’t think you need to worry too much about his reaction. He’s a very confused boy and it may take him a while to stop seeing you as a friend and instead as someone with breasts.”
“That was almost intelligent,” I say.
“Didn’t get promoted before you for nothing,” he grins. I punch him in the shoulder.
“We do not speak of that.”
Seamus walks me back to Parvati’s flat, offering to carry my bags in an attempt to find out what I’ve got him for Christmas. “You’re such a little boy,” I say, thwapping his hand away for the last time.
I get this sense of foreboding as we get closer to their end of Diagon Alley. It’s my inner eye, Ron often jokes. Seriously though, something’s wrong.
“Hey, there’s all these reporters and law enforcement people hanging about …” Seamus falls silent as he realises. “It could be another block of flats, another apartment.”
And I’m running because if I don’t run fast enough something terrible will happen. And something dreadful has already happened. I run straight into Ron.
“Lavender,” he says. His voice is hoarse. “There’s been another attack.”
“WHERE IS SHE?” I scream. “WHERE’S PARVATI?” Seamus has just caught up and he is holding me back as I try to pummel my way past Ron.
Ron catches my hands. “She’s in a critical condition.” Some of the fog lifts. Alive? “The Healers arrived about ten minutes ago and took her to London.”
I sink down onto the cobbled pavement. “Oh thank God.” Beside me, Seamus breathes a sigh of relief, but doesn’t let go of me. “Is it the same person?”
Ron looks uneasy. “Well, we don’t know for sure …”
“But it makes no sense. Parvati’s family was staunchly uninvolved in the War.”
“You’d best talk to Kingsley. He’s processing the scene.”
“Where’s Padma?” Seamus asks abruptly.
“Oh shit!” I gasp at the same time. “Harry.”
Ron’s freckles stand out against his pale face. “He’s not in good shape, Lavender. He’s devastated. Hermione’s with him.”
“I want to see him.”
“I don’t know-“
“Please, Ron.” If I can’t see Parvati yet, I have to see Harry. I don’t know why, I just do.
“Alright. Seamus, Padma’s back at the lab. She insists she’s fine.” Seamus has apparated before he even finishes the sentence. “Seamus Finnegan, a grown up. That’s a sight I never thought I’d see.” He smiles shakily and leads me over to an emergency tent set up on the side of the road. “Hermione? Lavender’s here.”
“I don’t know if this is a good time,” Hermione says.
“Let her in.” Harry’s voice. Dead, flat.
I step inside.
Once my eyes have adjusted to the dimness of the tent, lit only by Hermione’s wand, I am able to make out Harry and Hermione in some detail. Harry’s sitting on a makeshift bed, holding a mug of tea, which he is staring at blankly. I sit down beside him and touch his hand. It’s freezing. “Hey.”
He turns to look at me and his eyes; I haven’t seen them like that since Luna Lovegood was lost in the War.
“She was being stalked. She told me this morning. We were going to go to the Aurors in the afternoon.”
“I don’t think that’s very helpful, Lavender,” Hermione says.
“Leave us alone for a moment, Hermione,” Harry says. Hermione slips out and Harry burries his head in my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry.” I repeat myself. Again and again and again. Because if I repeat it, it’ll make everything better. It’s like clapping if you believe in fairies. It works every time. Harry’s crying, thick, aching sobs, and I hold him in my arms. “She’ll be alright. She’ll get through this.”
But will we?