Thicker Than Blood

George Weasley was confusing. Lavinia must have thought this atleast a thousand times since she left Florean's, but she couldn't help thinking it again as she made her way home, her mind now free to wander completely.

Her attention span had been little to none for the rest of her shift, much to the chagrin of her boss. She was pretty sure he thought he bit off more than he could chew when he hired her, and she felt a bit bad about it; she wasn't always like this. This being flustered and scatterbrained. I'll make it up to him tomorrow, she thought as she began the long walk up the stairs to her flat.

The elevator had been broken down for as long as she'd lived in the building, and she had to climb five flights of stairs just to get to her flat. She was used to it from Hogwarts, but it still annoyed her, to say the least. Lavinia had requested the first floor, but apparently they didn't have any openings. As she huffed and puffed her way up the third flight, a memory suddenly flooded her mind.

I was late for Charms. The corridors were deserted and my frantic running echoed loudly, making me more self conscious than I already was. My bag bounced at my back, and the books I held in my arms kept slipping, even though I gripped them tightly.

I glanced over my shoulder, hoping a professor wouldn't come out to investigate what all the ruckus was about. More importantly, I hoped Filch wouldn't find me, or that cat of his, Mrs. Norris. They would tell Umbridge, and then I'd really be in trouble. Not paying attention, I rounded the corner and was suddenly knocked hard on my back by a rather tall someone.

"Oof!" I wheezed, rubbing the back of my head. My books were scattered on the ground beside me, and I sighed, closing my eyes briefly.

"Are you alright?" I looked up into the chocolate brown eyes of one of the Weasley twins. I nodded as I sat up, and he began picking up my books.

"Oh, you don't have to do that- erm, Fred?" I asked hesitantly. He laughed and shook his head, giving me a wry smile. I dropped my gaze, feeling embarassed.

"Where were you rushing off to?" George asked lazily, shifting my books to one arm and offering a hand to help me up. I took it tentatively, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Charms," I murmured. "I'm late."

"Oh, they aren't going to be paying attention to tardiness in a few minutes," he said in a cheerful sort of way. I glanced at him quickly, my eyebrows furrowed. "And I'll assist you to explain that I wasn't paying attention and ever so rudely knocked you down, which I apologize for."

"No, no, that was my fault," I said quietly. He merely looked at me for a moment, before shrugging. We reached the classroom a few moments later, and he opened the door for me. Professor Flitwick looked at us and opened his mouth, but Fred cut in smoothly.

"I'm sorry to intrude, Professor, but I accidentally ran into Ms. Farrow on her way to class, and she bumped her head, you see. I wanted to make sure she got to class okay," he said sounding very concerned. I wanted to look at him to see if he was acting or not, but I knew that wouldn't weigh well in my favor.

Professor Flitwick's expression quickly mirrored Fred's, and I heard whispers throughout the classroom, causing me to duck my head even more.

"Of course, of course, Mr. Weasley. Lavinia, do you think you need to see Madame Pomfrey?" Flitwick asked, and my eyes widened in slight horror. I heard Fred snicker beside me.

"No, no, I'm fine," I said insistantly, and Flitwick nodded.

"You may go, Mr-" Professor Flitwick was cut off by a sudden BOOM. The very floor beneath us shook, and I almost fell, but George caught my arm to steady me. The rest of the class didn't have as good of luck; several people were picking themselves up off the floor, complaining loudly.

"Class, go over the pages written on the board, and I shall be back," Flitwick squeaked, pushing past me hurriedly. When he was out of sight, George grinned. I looked at him confusedly.

"You'll find out soon enough, I suppose. I shall see you next Herbology lesson. Until then, Ms. Farrow," he said politely and gave an exagerated bow, before loping off down the corridor. I watched him go, feeling very ambivalent.

Lavinia slowly walked up the last few steps, giving herself some time to catch her breath. Some times were easier than others, but this wasn't one of them. She swept her fringe out of her face, and reached into her pocket for the muggle keys to open the door. Normally, she would just open it with magic, but she didn't feel like fussing with making sure no one was around.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside quickly. As she shut the door behind her, she heard the familiar mewl at her feet. Her cat Dinah looked up at her with wide eyes, and she smiled, scooping her up into her arms. She nuzzled Lavinia's face, and the girl felt her heart swell. She had had her since she was little, and she loved her more than anything. She was the smartest animal Lavinia knew, but that was because she had kneazle in her bloodline.

She set her on her feet and made her way to the bedroom, kicking off her shoes in the process. Dinah followed and soon hopped on the bed, curling at the foot of it. She methodically removed her clothing and changed into night clothes, trying not to glance in the mirror as she did so. Lavinia sighed, looking at her hands; she wasn't just pale. The veins were bulging and dark, sickening and horrifying to look at. She knew that she would have to sit down and make her potion tonight.

Pursing her lips, she tried not to let it get to her. It wasn't that she was bad at making potions; on the contrary, she was excelled in the area. But, depending on the potion was an entirely different story. Ever since she was little, Lavinia had had that sickly tasting concotion shoved into her mouth, teaspoon by teaspoon, until she thought she would scream. It was a neccessity, but that didn't mean she had to appreciate it.

Lavinia knew she shouldn't have waited so long to make it, though. It weakened her body much more than if she took it like she was supposed to. The healers told her that if she kept on the way she did, that one day she would be too weak to make it. She scoffed at the thought. It only delayed the inevitable. She wouldn't live out a normal lifespan, even by a muggle's point of view. She could die at any time, but she knew... she wouldn't live past the age of twenty two.

The thought sent a wave of agony throughout her body, and Lavinia blinked back an immediate flood of tears. She stepped blindly out of her bedroom and towards the kitchen, her mind conjuring up horrible thoughts. She would never marry. She would never have children. She would die at the peak of her life, having only lived a tiny fraction of what most people did. The unfairness of it caught at her every time, ripping at her with sharpened edges.

What did I do to deserve this? Lavinia wondered with a small sob, pulling out her cauldron and potions kit. Remembering she left her wand on her bed, she walked back and jerkily grabbed it before stalking back to light the fire. Wiping her hand over her eyes, she shook her head. I don't need to spend the night in a right state, she thought tiredly. And as she measured out the correct amount of hellebore, Lavinia distantly wondered if she was going to spend what little years she had left like this.