As Lavender Brown's body lay amongst the ruins of what was once her home, she watched a family grieve the loss of one of their own, wondering why fate had so cruelly dealt them such cards. From a young age, all she wanted was to love and be loved in...
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»»» THOUGH the tension between them has significantly eased, Lavender couldn't help but over analyse her actions.They were approaching a confrontation, she could sense it, and not knowing what it would mean for them both terrified her. Feelings put aside, she wanted to believe that there was a scenario where Fred would survive. They had been through enough for her to conclude that he was a far better person than she could ever hope to be. It wasn't her anxiety talking, it was simply a fact.
There was also the other issue that her fatigue had been building up since they left the cottage. Truthfully, the energy she had mustered to converse with Neville and reassure him that everything was normal (or as normal as it could be in their situation), was miraculous. Ever since they started walking, it had slowly crept back. The light conversation they were having at the start had long since stalled as she focused on walking in a straight line. Her eyelids sagged under the weight of keeping them open.
"Woah there," Fred said as he held onto her arm when she stumbled forward. Her eyes widened at the sight of her hand, but she pushed the thought away. She didn't need to add more problems to their plate.
"Maybe we should stop for a bit. I don't even know where we're walking to, unless your family has got another house tucked away somewhere," he said, a glint in his eyes. Lavender didn't even have the energy to roll her eyes at his tease.
Fred frowned. He took her arm and placed it around his shoulder, taking on most of her weight. Lavender tried to object, but she couldn't argue with how much easier it was to move now that she had more support. He stopped near a large rock and set her down on the ground.
"If I was any good at Transfiguration I would make you a chair or a bed," he mumbled, taking a seat next to her and tapping his shoulder. Lavender hummed in reply and tilted her head so that it was resting on his shoulders. Silently she thanked Quidditch for gifting him with broad shoulders, it definitely made it nicer to rest on.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, a cool breeze washing through them. They had managed to walk through to a neighbouring field, and whilst it wasn't too far from the cottage, it certainly gave them the privacy they desired. The grass had long since started to wilt, the chill of winter whispering between the few remaining long blades.
"What's wrong with me?" Lavender said finally, her chest heaving at the question she had been silently torturing herself with.
"Aside from the obvious you mean?" Fred said and she could hear the smile in his voice. He reached out and held out his hand, palm outreached, shuddering slightly as her cold fingers entwined with his own. "I don't know. It clearly has something to do with the Magician. And this prophecy," he said, his tone far more serious.
"We haven't really done anything about the prophecy," Lavender said quietly. Her eyes drifted to his forearm where the messy scrawl was still clear. Not that she really needed it, the image of Mary delivering it was imprinted and burned into her mind. "Who do you reckon the lone guardian is?" Her eyebrows furrowed at the statement.
