The Sugar Quill
Author: prplhez8  Story: Not Obvious to Everyone  Chapter: Prologue
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Author’s Note: It seems as of late, I’ve been the champion of the back story characters


Author’s Note:  It seems as of late, I’ve been the champion of the back story characters.  Being in love with the Marauders, I should be used to it by now.  And yet, when I find two characters that I enjoy for their spirit and spunk…it always surprises me when they come to me and want me (of all people) to tell their story.  I hope I do them justice.  So many thanks goes to Jules…she knows why.  And to St. Margaret’s – she gives me something to strive for each and every time I set my fingers to tapping on my keyboard.







                It would only be a short few hours until the time to say good-bye to Dumbledore and Lavender Brown had no one to speak to.  Parvati was gone.  Hermione would not be someone to be consulted for this subject.  For the first time since she’d arrived at Hogwarts, she was truly alone with her thoughts.  


She came upon him in the deep window seat of the Gryffindor Common Room.  He was leaning against the wall framing the window, with his legs angled in front of him, arms resting on knees.  The light filtered through his sandy colored hair.  Even without turning his head, she knew the familiar green eyes that were looking onto the grounds.   Light years seemed to have passed since this nice boy had taken her to the Yule Ball.   He spied her watching and patted the cushion next to himself.  She sat down, tucking one leg under and peered out the window. 


            “How are ya farin’, my girl?”


            Sighing, she remembered how Seamus always made her feel - like she belonged in Gryffindor for a reason, like she was a part of all that went on.  Shrugging her shoulders in response, she fingered the fringe of her jeans. 


            “Should we go for a walk, maybe?  Fresh air might do you some good.”


            Shrugging again, she watched him get to his feet.  He extended a hand toward her.  She took it and felt the familiar tug to her feet. Silence greeted them it seemed as if the whole of Hogwarts’ including its grounds, were in mourning. By mutual agreement they found a spot and seated themselves, watching the sun drop lower in the sky.  The quiet stretched out ahead of them, and yet she couldn’t find her voice.


            “I fought with my Mam.”


            “I heard.”


            “I feel bad about that. Stubborn Irish woman, she is, Lavender.”


            “I’m sorry, Seamus.”


            Silence greeted them again.  She felt the boiling anger and frustration rise up in her throat again.  Part of her felt so foolish for feeling this way when Dumbledore had been killed, but losing Ron still hurt.






            “Am I ugly or dumb?”


            She turned to find a look of incredulity on his face.  She knew what he was thinking.  Silly frivolous girl.  Now she felt it, too. Quickly turning back towards the lake, her face burned with embarrassment. Feeling a warm pressure on her shoulder, she peeked out of the corner of her eye.  Seamus’ pale, freckled hand lay upon her purple sweater.   


            “Did he tell you that?”


            “No, I just feel that way.  I’m not smart like Hermione.  She’s pretty when she tries to be.  And I like her.  But I just don’t get it, is all.”


            “Aw my’girl.  You’re right smart and you know you’re well…” His voice dropped an octave lower. “…pretty.  You know that, Lavender.”


            “I don’t know that, Seamus.”  She turned to look at him squarely.


            “Well I do.  I know it.”  Then reaching for her arm, he trailed his fingers down until he found her hand.  Holding it, he held her gaze.   After a time, she scooted back and rested her head upon his shoulder.  Finding the familiar woolly sweater under her cheek, she sighed.  And as his thumb brushed over her knuckles, she felt a bit better.  Maybe she wasn’t dumb, after all.  






            “Is there any way we could write to one another over the summer?  If it’s not too much trouble for you, or won’t make your mum mad.”


            Again his thumb rubbed over the tops of her knuckles, as she felt a bit of a feeling of butterflies in her stomach.


            “I’ll try me hardest to write to ya.  My penmanship’s crap, you know?”


            A small giggle escaped from her mouth, as she looked up at him…and smiled.







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