31 August, 1995 - What Now

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Several hours later, Lavinia was in the attic again. This, she had realized, was rapidly becoming her favourite haunt in this house because smell aside, it was actually rather nice. The window on the wall let in the moonlight and, perhaps most importantly, there were no portraits or tapestries or heirlooms to remind her just whose house this had once been.

Plus, as an added bonus, Kreacher, the family house elf who was somehow still alive after all these years, didn't clean up here. Sirius had said that was because Buckbeak had already tried to take Kreacher's head off once and however much Sirius clearly disliked the elf, even he had to admit that Kreacher did have some sense left in him. All of which boiled down to the reality that this was just about the only place in the house where Lavinia could be reasonably confident that Kreacher would make no attempt to interrupt her with mutterings about blood traitors and filth and nonsense. And though Lavinia had nothing against the elf, really, but he had a habit of hissing quietly about how disappointed her mother must be and how the noble house of Selwyn had fallen. And though Lavinia could have tolerated the generic whispers about blood traitors and muggle borns, this was where she drew the line. So it was rather nice to have at least one room in the house where she knew he couldn't disturb her.

Really, this room was a place where Lavinia knew only one person would even think to look for her, let alone actually come looking for her. And though she knew it was selfish of her, she didn't particularly want to be found by anyone else. Remus might have been fine, she supposed. But... But she needed a moment alone to think. To process. And though Remus was usually her go to for advice, she knew what he would say about this. And she didn't want to hear it. Didn't need to hear it because he was telling herself. What she wanted right now was the quiet. And maybe, if Sirius so happened to come, she supposed she wouldn't mind some small comfort as well.

Truthfully, it was rather difficult for Lavinia to explain, even to herself, while she was feeling quite so morose. All things considered, her talk with Harry had gone well. Very well, actually, when she remembered how upset he had been the last time they'd spoken. But then, this time, there hadn't been much to say in the first place.

Really the entire conversation could be summed up to the fact that he didn't hate her. Which had been a remarkably forthcoming admission from him, actually.

Lavinia had walked into that room fully prepared with an apology for pressing him and a speech about how she just wanted to know if there was a chance. She didn't need a decision right then and she didn't want one unless he was sure. She just wanted to know if she had a chance. Any chance at all.

She hadn't said even a single one of the words she'd prepared on her way downstairs, however, when Harry had launched into his own explanation. And Lavinia had been.... She didn't know what she had been. Surprise didn't feel like the right word because though she'd been shocked it had happened so soon, a part of her had felt rather as though it should have been an obvious decision not to hate her for this. But then, another part of her had been certain that this was an incredibly valid reason to hate her for all eternity after what Peter had done to Harry and his family. So she hadn't been exactly shocked by his admittedly hesitant willingness to accept that her forgiveness of Peter was hers and hers alone. Nor had she been surprised by his admission that he didn't at all understand how she could even manage such forgiveness.

And that... that was why she was up here. Thinking. Well. That and everything that had happened after Harry had told her that he didn't hate her.

Because for the first part of that... the honest truth was that Lavinia didn't know how she had managed it either. She didn't know how she had ever managed any of her forgivenesses. It was the understanding, maybe. That was certainly how Remus had always put it, but it didn't feel like just understanding them. Because she didn't think understanding was enough. Understanding Sirius certainly hadn't been enough.

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