You Are The One Thing On My Mind

in another lifetime

A smile across a crowded room, the brush of hands, soft words, stolen kisses, this was how it was supposed to go. This was how a boy and girl were supposed to fall in love. Soon they'd be catching moments in abandoned classrooms, his hand on her thigh, her hand clutching his hair, his lips pressed against hers. Her heart sounds like rainfall during a storm, but his remains steady.

Lavender long ago decided it was hard being in love with a boy who would pick another girl over her at any given moment, but Ron makes her smile (which is a rare occurrence these days), and her heart skip a beat, and that's all she needs.

"Hey, what's this?" Ron murmurs against her skin, his fingers tracing a simple pattern on her shoulder, that is usually obscured by her cloak and school uniform.

Lavender doesn't have to look to know what this is; she knows the details of the golden tattoo portraying a miniature and intricately inked mountain by heart, and often finds herself doodling on parchment, instead of taking notes.

"It's, uh, nothing," She brushes it off, before her voice can become thick with tears, and kisses the ginger long and hard.

Distractions aren't, apparently, going to work today, Lavender discovers, when he pulls away, and she begins to curse the whole system of tattoos when you fall in love, because shit, she doesn't want to have this conversation. Magic is supposed to have order and purpose, and Lavender can't see how a golden tattoo appearing when you fall in love, depicting an interpretation of the meaning of the one you love's name, has any reason to exist.

"Tattoos are supposed to fade when you stop loving someone," He says finally, voice unsteady. "Wanna explain who you're still in love with?"

She thinks about lying, about telling Ron that she's in love with him, that the tattoo is for him, but it would be no use. By this point, all wizards and witches know the meanings of their names, know what golden ink to look for, and know when a tattoo was just not theirs. Besides, surely he's already seen the golden crown on her ankle, symbolising ruler.

"Wo-"

"It's Cormac, isn't it?" Ron interrupts her angrily, before she can even finish her first word, ears turning red. "Of course."

Now Lavender is just confused about how the conversation has turned to Cormac McLaggen, before she recalls the Gryffindor's 'affections' for Hermione Granger. She represses the urge to sigh – of course it was to do with her – and tries her best to not think about who the tattoo is really for.

"It's not Cormac," She states dully.

"Then who is it?" Ron snaps, almost yelling now, and Lavender flinches as he starts to name almost every boy in their year, each word a sharp accusation.

"You're jealous of a ghost!" She finally screams, because she can't fucking listen to him naming one more person, one more boy, he thinks she loves, but now she's choking back a sob, and she can't do this, she can't think about her, and grabs her bag, abandoned in favour of making out just ten minutes before, then storms out of the classroom.

If Parvati was here, she'd roll her eyes, tell Lavender she was overreacting and should just tell Ron who she was really love with, at least then he wouldn't resent her forever, which is becoming to look like the best-case scenario.

Lavender is shaking, now, her grief hitting her like a hurricane, and she can barely breathe as sobs wrack her body, and she is empty, she is always empty, and Parvati is gone, and Lavender is still here, but she doesn't know how to be here without her best friend, and she doesn't know how to exist without her, and all the constellations have gone dark now, and it hurts to remember, but she can't bear to forget.