Thicker than Water (Marauders Era)

30 June, 1980 - Suspicions

The first time Lavinia was called to heal at one of the Order's ambushes, she remembered all the many reasons why she had hesitated in making her decision. The noise of the battle, the flashing lights and the blanket of near crippling fear followed her long after the fighting had stopped. She practically fell into bed that night, her bones weary from more than a long day. She wished she would just fall asleep, into some dreamless abyss where her thoughts would stop and the ache in her chest would cease. But her eyes stayed open, staring at the ceiling like it might have answers.

It kept hitting her, over and over again, that for all that she'd wanted to make absolutely sure the decision to heal was hers and hers alone, in the end, it hadn't been. And she couldn't shake the feeling that if it hadn't been for Rowle and Mulciber she might never have made this choice. She couldn't decide how to feel about that, either.

But of course, thinking of Rowle and Mulciber reminded her why she had made the choice that she had. It hadn't been the threat to her life or even the threat to Sirius's. No, it had been the realization that unchecked, this was the world they were going to live in. That if the Death Eaters won, people like Rowle would get free reign and it wouldn't just be Lavinia who was haunted by the feeling of unwanted hands on her body. It would be other women. Other men even. It would be too many people who would have no recourse, no way to stand up and shout that it was wrong. And she couldn't let that happen. So anything she could do, any help she could offer, she needed to give and give freely. Because the world they'd be left in otherwise... that world wouldn't be worth living in.

So even as the exhaustion she'd started feeling so much more with the new year reached new heights, even as getting out of bed became a feat in and of itself simply because she was so so tired of facing this world, Lavinia kept to her word. It wasn't that everything was awful because there were still moments of almost normal. They were just too few and too far between.

Too often Lavinia woke up alone in bed to an empty house. Too often her dinner was a quiet, solitary thing as she tried to beat back the fears that lurked in the silence and the darkness of the house. Not that this was new. Not at all. But that didn't make it feel any better.

Only once since Lavinia had made her decision had they managed to get all their friends together and it had felt... off. Like it was almost wrong to be having such a normal night, wrong to be eating cookies in the living room after dinner while the world fell apart all around them.

Lavinia had done her best to enjoy it anyway. She did her best to enjoy every moment she could, if she was honest, even the ones where she was alone in the house. She took to putting on music, playing records on Sirius's muggle turntable and occasionally wondering if the thing wasn't starting to be affected by the magic it was exposed to. Either way, it was nice to have some sound to fill the emptiness that seemed to echo through everything. Nice to have words and sound and something to hold on to when her thoughts started slipping down more dangerous paths.

So she kept holding on, kept getting up, kept going to work and kept healing when Dumbledore called for her. It wasn't because of any newfound strength or courage in her, but rather because of the fear. Fear of what she had to lose. She knew her friends fought because of those little moments where things were still good, knew they held on for the hope of making those moments normal, making them all life was composed of. And Lavinia held on for those moments too, but not because she was fighting for more of them, though she most certainly hoped they would get there. No, Lavinia held on because she was afraid they would go away, afraid they might disappear entirely. And she didn't know what she would do if that happened because in between those moments... in between those moments, she felt like she was under a blanket or a veil, like everything just... was. And nothing more. It wasn't always bad. But it wasn't really good either. And Lavinia didn't want that good to go away.