DISLCAIMER: I do not own Lavender, Hermione or bubbles.

Bubble World.

Blurb …

Lavender Brown lived in her own little bubble world before the war … :Oneshot Lavender Centric onesided R/L implied RHr from PS through to postDH:

This story is for Katie, Baby Jans and Bun.

I might be leaving, but i'll never leave your hearts.

Love yous more than peanuts and carrots put together. xox

Her robes were new and fitted perfectly. Her hat hadn't squashed the up-do her mother had done for her on her hair; in fact, the hat complimented it. Her shoes were polished, she had a shiny wand in her pocket that was hers and she'd been sorted into Gryffindor – the best house at Hogwarts.

Lavender turned to smile at her new friend, Parvarti. The girl was nice, the perfect companion for her. Everything was going perfect for her; it was all working out. Going to Hogwarts, going to Gryffindor, learning magic and becoming an amazing witch: it was her goal. And she was going to achieve it. She was Lavender, she could do anything.

"The castle's so beautiful," Parvarti sighed next to her as they made their way up to their new dormitory, through the winding passages of Hogwarts. "I can't wait for classes. I just hope it won't be too hard."

"Nothing's too hard, Parvarti." Lavender told her, smiling. This here was her forte, where she would shine.

Watch out world, Lavender Brown was at Hogwarts.

Parvarti was a nice girl. But she talked way too much.

"I miss Padma," She sighed during one of their first Charms lessons. "I wish I could've gone to Ravenclaw with her."

"Parvarti, you're not always going to be with your sister." Lavender said. "Sometimes, you just have to make the most of what you get. And you got Gryffindor – bravery, courage and all that. Dumbledore's house! In a way, that's so much better than Ravenclaw."

Parvarti gave a small smile. "Thanks, Lavender. I guess you're right."

"I know I am." Lavender replied. "Sometimes, you just can't get what you want."

While the eleven-year-old girl seemed to ooze confidence, Lavender sometimes wondered if she even knew the meaning of that statement. Lavender had always gotten what she had wanted: clothes, toys, good marks, and good looks, whatever it may be. To not get something was unfathomable.

But she shook it off. She'd helped her friend gain some confidence of her own. Lavender knew what she was doing. She was going to be the best.

There were few people Lavender hated in the world – she was generally a lively, happy girl. But Hermione Granger …

Lavender just couldn't understand her.

"It's a Hogsmede weekend, Hermione." She told the bushy-haired girl. As many times she'd asked if she could de-friz her hair, Hermione had countered every one and even some that Lavender hadn't even had time to ask before they were turned down. And now she refused to go to Hogsmede, even when they had only just been allowed to go this year. She actually perfered to sit on her bed, reading.

Again, Lavender would never understand her.

"I'll wait in the common room." Parvarti said after exchanging a look with Lavender. She left down the stairs while Lavender sat down next to Hermione.

"Hermione-"

"Look, I know it's a Hogsmede weekend, Lavender," Hermione cut over her, not even looking up. "I've read the notice board, I know I can go. But I don't want to, so stop asking me about it."

Lavender sighed. "All right, I know you're mad at Ron and everything, but you don't only have one friend! Yeah, Harry can't go, but you can come with myself and Parvarti-"

"I said no, Lavender." Hermione looked up to cast a glare at her.

Lavender thought she knew what was going on. Hermione had been downcast and moody ever since the huge row she and Ron had had in the common room – the one where they yelled about their pets and Ron threw a bed sheet in her face. Lavender had seen the looks Hermione gave to her best friend and she knew the girl probably missed him like hell, no matter how much of a prick he could sometimes be.

"Hermione, you don't need Ron," She said. "You don't really have many girl friends any way; you need to come have a girl's day out in Hogsmede."

"Are you serious?" Hermione asked, looking incredulous.

Confused, Lavender said, "Er, yes? I mean, everyone knows your two best friends are boys."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I mean … are you serious that I don't need Ron?"

It was one of these comments that left Lavender bewildered. Straight, serious, practical Hermione loved work and would study all night for a good mark. And yet, her personality always came back to how she cared for her friends.

"Of - of course," Lavender said, shaking her head as she stood up. "C'mon, come to Hogsmede."

Hermione seemed to actually give Lavender a smile before standing up herself. "All right then, I will," She said. "Give me a moment to find my cloak."

Lavender smiled; she was glad she had gotten Hermione out of the dormitory, but she was still confused and it annoyed her to no end.

She could never figure Hermione out. And Lavender hated her a little bit for it.

Lavender liked to live in a bubble-world. It was as if the outside world didn't matter; nothing did. Only certain things she let into her bubble and she even created some things in order to form the perfect little world for her to live in.

In her world, everything was perfect. In her world, there was no Voldemort, no worry about dying before you were 18, no being scared for your relatives. She was beautiful, popular, everyone loved her, including (especially) Ron. Harry Potter was just a normal boy who didn't steal all the limelight and Hermione didn't even exist.

She hated to be brought back to reality. But even when she had to suck it up and face the real world for a change, she still had her bubble world to go back to.

After her Fifth Year, the bubble was completely popped. Or rather shattered into a million pieces.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ron's little sister and that weird Loony girl had gone to the Department of Mysteries. No one knows why or how they even got there, but everyone knows that they were attacked. That six fifteen and fourteen year olds took on twenty-odd Death Eaters and all came out alive. It was a miracle and the Ministry was still in uproar over the break-in.

And You-Know-Who had actually been seen by eyes other than Harry's or Dumbledore's.

You-Know-Who was alive. Actually living, breathing, walking around and killing people. It had happened and she hadn't even cared. She'd been so busy, off in Lavender World, that she found that a perfect world with no You-Know-Who was of course better than a destroyed world, with a crazy mass-murderer. Coming back to reality was not an option those last few weeks of school, where the only headlines in the papers were "YOU-KNOW-WHO RETURNS!" and "POTTER FIGHTS YOU-KNOW-WHO AGAIN!"

However, she wasn't given a choice.

"Lavender, are you even listening?" Hermione said exasperatedly. Lavender answered, no in her head, but out loud she said,

"Yes."

"Then what did I just say?"

"Pass me that book, please?" Lavender repeated, turning to scowl at the brown-haired girl. Hermione sent her a withering look.

"Then please Lavender, pass it over."

Sighing, Lavender reached behind her and grabbed whatever book Hermione was going to pack along with the rest of her library. She turned to throw it to her, but the title caught her eye: Fighting in Black: How to Master the Dark Arts. Her eyes grew wide.

"Hermione, why the hell do you have a book on how to master the dark arts?" Lavender asked, sending her an accusing look. Hermione only scoffed and drew out her wand, finally summoning the book to her and shoving it into her trunk.

"Research," She answered. "If we want any chance of defeating dark magic, we're going to have to know how it operates."

"That's if you plan on going into battle," Lavender said. "I don't plan on doing anything of the sort! That's only the worst-case scenario, anyway. Who's to even say it'll happen?"

Hermione halted in her motions of folding spare robes to stare at Lavender. "Did you seriously just say you don't think a battle is inevitable?"

Lavender shrugged. "You-Know-Who doesn't have to be defeated with an army. Harry's the only one who has to defeat him, so why should hundreds of people give up their lives for one person?"

"Because this isn't affecting only one person!" Hermione said, completely ignoring her packing. "This has affected the entire Wizarding World! And Voldemort's still going to keep killing people until he kills Harry. Besides," She added with another one of her withering looks. The kind she gave when she was bitterly disappointed. "You would seriously let Harry walk into battle by himself?"

Lavender folded her arms as she sat down on the edge of her bed with a huff. "He knows what he's got to do," She answered. "It's his job, we should let him do it."

"And let him fight by himself?" Hermione said, incredulously. "You might sit back on your arse in a safe house somewhere, but I won't. I'll be there fighting. I'll always be fighting with him."

Lavender as greatly offended at this. "Are you saying that I don't want our side to fight?!"

"I'm saying that you'd rather other people did the fighting for you!" Hermione practically yelled. "Let's face it, you'd rather save your pretty face than another's life!"

"That's not true!" Lavender yelled back. "I'd die for Parvarti and anyone else!"

"No, you wouldn't!" Hermione yelled, flinging a hat down on her bed in anger. "You'd rather sit back and let other people die for you! You don't seem to get what's actually going on! This isn't just a worry anyone, just a nightmare at the back of your head! This is real, Voldemort's back and it's all bloody real."

Lavender thought she knew this, she really did. But when she thought back to her bubble world, she realised that Hermione was speaking the truth. She didn't want to admit this, so she let Hermione continue with what seemed to be a full-blown rant.

"There's a very, very high chance that none of us will live to see 18, but I'm fine with that if it means Voldemort's also gone!" She continued to yell, becoming red in the face. "You on the other hand, have no clue what fighting actually entails! You can sit there with thoughts of 'Oh of course, I'll fight when the time comes', but when you get there, you'll scarper because you won't be prepared to die for our world! You seem to have this pre-conceived notion that everything's going to turn out all right in the end, that Harry'll save the world and everything will go back to normal! Well, it's not going to do that on it's own! Stop bloody living in a fantasy world where everything's all right, because it's not! Nothing's all right, and it's going to stay that way unless you stop living in a pretend world and accept that you're going to have to fight to the death."

She breathed heavily as she finished her yelling, her hair seeming to have become frizzier than normal in her anger. Lavender was partly in shock, but she managed to say,

"I can do that." But her voice didn't support the determination she felt.

"Can you really, Lavender?" Hermione said scathingly, turning her back on her and storming out of the dormitory. Lavender sat there for a moment until Parvarti stuck her head in.

"Merlin, that was a row," She said quietly. "I heard Hermione go off her nut. You all right?"

Lavender nodded, but she knew that was a lie. Everything she'd ever told herself in her bubble world had been a lie. Hermione was right, Lavender didn't understand at all.

Her perfect world was shattered.

Deep down, Lavender always knew that Ron fancied the arse off Hermione.

But she simply couldn't help but imagine that it was Lavender that he wanted. Coming back from the summer, he'd looked toned and even taller, if that was possible. Frankly, he'd been hot, she'd heard him speak and realised how amazing he was.

It was a hopeless dream, she always knew. Ron and Hermione were planning on going to Slughorn's party together, everyone knew that. Everyone was sure something would finally happen there and that they could be the 'RonandHermione' everyone had seen for the past six years.

But when he kissed her back at the celebrations after the Quidditch Victory, she hadn't even cared about the girl she couldn't connect with. The girl she knew Ron was mad about. Because it was her he was with, her who was kissing him.

She hadn't even cared when she heard Hermione crying that night in bed. She was going out with Ron Weasley!

"We've been here so long, I think it's time to move." Lavender suddenly said from Ron's lap. He gave a start, as he had found it was perfectly fine by the tree they were currently sitting under.

"Oh," he said as she stood up. She was actually serious? "Er, ok?"

"Yeah …" She answered, holding out a hand to help him off the ground, using the other to pat off the snow that had stuck to her robes. "The winter's so cold … summer's over too soon, don't you reckon?"

Ron shrugged as she continued to tug him along the lakeside. "Sure … though I always liked winter. Winter means Christmas. And my birthday soon after."

Lavender gave a laugh. "Is that all you care about?"

"No!" Ron said, struggling to find the right answer. It wasn't that he didn't like talking with Lavender; it was that her conversation always ended up about her in some way and it was odd to be talking about himself. "I like the summer too, but not as much. Summer means I have to go home to my family. And don't get me wrong as great as they are, but if you were to give me an option to spend two months without Fred and George, I'd happily take it. Plus, I have to wait weeks to see Hermione again and even longer to see Har-"

He suddenly cut himself off, glancing sideways at Lavender. One look at her face told him he knew what she would say.

"… Hermione?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, ceasing their walk.

"Er, yeah," Ron said, feeling his ears grow hot. "She comes over in the holidays. Harry too." He added quickly, as if it might suddenly make it seem better.

"So you see her long before Harry?" Lavender asked, still with that sceptic face.

"Yes – but not that much longer, honestly," Ron answered. "It's mostly like a few days, a week at the most."

"Hmmm," Lavender seemed to look away for a moment before turning back. "I liked summer. When I was little, I always wanted to settle down and go where palm trees grow."

Though not sure why she'd done it, Ron was still thankful for the subject change. "I think you'll find a short supply of palm trees in England, Lavender." He managed to say, jokingly.

"But maybe you're right," She said, giving him a smile. "Maybe winter is better. After all," She said, drawing closer. "You get to see me during winter."

He gave a small snicker. "I guess I do." He answered and she kissed him, making him forget all about Hermione and the summer.

Everything was just simply destroyed.

Not just her school, which was currently being blasted to pieces, but everything – her friends, her relationship with Ron, her wand, her life – was just blown apart, figuratively and literally.

She had seen little Colin Creevy die before her very eyes. Seen Ron come back to Hogwarts, seen him interact with Hermione and knew there had been no hope from the beginning and seen her wand snap in two.

It was hopeless. She didn't really try very hard to escape where Greyback tore at her face.

It was one of those points where you know it's hurting and you know you should be screaming from the pain, but you just can't seem to register it. Like in a dream, where you're hurt and know it hurts, but when you wake up, you're fine.

"NO!" She heard someone scream and suddenly, Greyback was gone and her face was on fire. She felt as if all her skin had been ripped off and the rest of her dipped in one of Neville's potions. She heard cracks and yells, then screams as something large and hairy came crashing through the Oak Doors, but she didn't register any of it until she felt arms enclose around her middle, hauling her up and towards the Great Hall.

"Don't worry Lav," She heard Parvarti's fearful voice. "I've got you!"

She'd never been more grateful.

Lavender decided she hated hospitals. The smell, the look, the drab and dreary colours and linen on the beds, even the Healers. They were professional and had no personality (or at least the ones assigned to her ward were).

Hospitals meant pity and injuries. Pain and feeling helpless.

She didn't know why Hermione had come. It was plain she didn't want to be there. The war taught Lavender a lot, especially why she and Hermione never got along – they simply never matched up. Lavender favoured charm and the odd Firewhisky or two. Hermione on the other hand, favoured curling up in bed by herself with a book.

It was never really about Ron. But he made it worse.

She didn't know who'd made her come. All she knew was that she felt incredible resentment towards the girl, who was standing and had come out unscathed while she lay in a hospital bed. Lavender wanted her to get out.

"What?" She said roughly from her hospital bed. She hated being stuck, unable to defend herself and her face (her once beautiful, unscarred face). She knew by now Hermione must've run off in her perfectly happy world with no You-Know-Who, frolicking with Ron amongst daises, or some crap like that. Why wouldn't she? There was nothing stopping her now.

And Lavender had seen it coming long before she'd even gotten together with Ron.

"I don't know," Was Hermione's answer, edging into the room. It was obvious she was uncomfortable. "Harry sort of practically forced me here."

Lavender raised her eyebrows, cringing slightly when pain shot through her. "Harry, right?" She said, trailing off. Hermione sat down in the chair that Parvarti so often occupied and the differences between the two were outstanding. Parvarti, her best friend, had been visiting her so often that many of the healers in her ward knew her by name. She practically claimed the chair, draping herself across it comfortably.

Hermione, however was sat perched on the very edge. She couldn't have moved any further away, or she would've fallen off. She was straight-backed and her frizzy hair was tied up in a bun that looked like it would very soon burst open. Lavender couldn't place it, but Hermione seemed older, more haggard-looking than when she'd last seen her and that had been a few hours after the battle from her sickbed in the Great Hall.

She'd been through a lot, even Lavender couldn't deny that. She even had scars: one that ran from her left shoulder, exposed through the holey t-shirt she was wearing, and one right across her neck, one that Lavender didn't even want to think about how she got.

They were both scarred from the war. But Lavender still didn't feel any sympathy for her.

"You don't even want to be here," She said. "Why did you listen to him?"

Hermione gave her a look. "Because I …" She didn't seem to know what to say. "I can't continue anything, knowing that you still hate me. You still hate me, right?"

Lavender blanched. "Hate? I don't know about hate … incredible dislike, perhaps …"

Hermione sighed. "I expected that. We were never the best of friends, were we?"

"Not while you were busy flirting yourself into Ron, while I was just his bit on the side."

"I never flirted with-" Hermione began, her face turning red.

Lavender waved a hand to cut her off. "Don't you dare give me that! I've seen it, everyone in the bloody school saw it! Every bloody time you talked to him, you couldn't help yourself! That one time when he ditched me to talk to you, while I lost a chess game to Harry? I know you nearly kissed him that day!"

Hermione visibly winced at this. Obviously, she'd known what had happened and couldn't deny it.

"I know it doesn't mean anything now, but I'm sorry for all that happened," Hermione said. "But Ron is another reason why I'm here. He … he wanted to set things right with you. He knows he needs to talk some things through, but of course he's been a bit tied up with his family right now. So …" She trailed off and Lavender rolled her eyes.

"So is that why you came?" She said scathingly. "To pass on a message from Ronny like bloody ten-year-olds?

"Don't you dare say anything like that about hi-" Hermione began.

"I'll say whatever I like!" Lavender said hotly. "Ron has no bloody clue what this has been like for me-"

"Oh for you?!" Hermione practically yelled, rising to her feet. "Of course! Perfect Lavender never gives a shit about anyone but herself! Don't you even care about Fred?"

Lavender felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. "I don't … what … what about Fred?"

Hermione stared. "You don't actually know? Who delivers the news in this place?" She muttered, seemingly to herself.

"I haven't heard anything!" Lavender said. "Fred Weasley? No, nothing could've possibly-"

"He died, Lavender," Hermione said abruptly. Her face had suddenly gone completely straight, no trace of emotion whatsoever. "A wall collapsed. I was there, so was Harry, Ron, and you remember Percy Weasley. I can see threstrals now. I saw it."

Lavender didn't know what to say. She hadn't heard a word of who had died and who hadn't since she left Hogwarts for St Mungo's, and that was the day after the battle ended. Parvarti refused to tell her anything, shutting down if Lavender mentioned it. She only knew the fate of Colin Creevy and those who she'd seen die with her own eyes.

"You're not going to say anything?" Hermione asked. "Don't you care?"

"I don't want to know, Hermione."

Hermione gave a harsh laugh. "Don't want to know? The whole bloody country doesn't want to know! But do we have a choice?"

Again, Lavender didn't say anything. Partly because Hermione was right like she always was and partly because she didn't have enough energy to keep arguing.

"It wasn't just you who had a rough time this past year," Lavender said, malice still in her voice, despite its soft volume. "Hogwarts wasn't even Hogwarts anymore-"

"Oh, please," Hermione snorted. "So you got tortured a bit – did you fight snatchers? Giant snakes pretending to be old ladies? Horcruxes that want to kill you? Do you think that could ever compare to sitting safely at school for a ye-?"

"Safe? You thought we were safe?" Lavender was outraged. "We were far from safe! Sure, we may not have battled the same things you, Ron and Harry did, but we had our own war at Hogwarts. When we were tortured, it wasn't just the Cruciatus curse – dark magic, magic you don't want to even imagine – you have no idea what I've been through! And the scars! I swear Neville has more scars than Mad-Eye moody did!"

"And you think we don't?!" Hermione stood up from the chair. "I've received more scars this year than all the scars I've ever gotten over my lifetime! And the stories behind them – Harry has scars that make you want to shut your eyes! Ron has scars from that battle that are pure horror! HORROR!"

Lavender wasn't perturbed by this. If anything, it made her more resentful. "Horror?" She scoffed. "You don't know the meaning of horror. C'mon Hermione, tell me. I'll show you mine if you show me yours first. Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse."

Hermione seemed to simply stand there for a long moment, silently seething at her. Lavender wasn't sure whether she was going to storm out or punch her. Both seemed rather likely. But Hermione shocked her by reaching round her cloak and underneath her jumper and shirt, yanking it up roughly so Lavender could plainly see her skin underneath.

She winced and looked away.

A scar slanted down through the middle of Hermione's abdomen, starting on her left shoulder and continued down her chest until it disappeared into the tops of her trousers. Other smaller cuts and bruises that were nearly faded away by now covered basically everything else.

"And it doesn't stop there." Hermione practically growled. "This scar-" She pointed to the angry monstrosity. "-stops here." She made a point about a quarter down her thigh. "Antonin Dolohov. He likes using his own spells. This one knocked me completely unconscious when I was 15. The only reason I'm alive is because I cast a silencing charm and he couldn't say the incantation."

Lavender didn't know what to say to this, so she only held up her chin and pointed to several puncture marks on her left forearm. "These … I got them from Dark Arts class. I didn't want to perform a Cruciatus Curse on Seamus. I couldn't. Turns out Carrows' wand can be very sharp. I got a stab each time I did it wrong."

Hermione shook her head. She gestured towards the cut lying right across her throat. Again, Lavender didn't have to guess what had happened. "Bellatrix Lestrange threatened to kill me. Because I'm Muggle-Born. The only reason she didn't is because that's when the chandelier fell and I got these-" She pointed to the side of her face, where several scars crisscrossed just in front of her ear.

Lavender closed her eyes. She didn't want to think about Hermione's awful story, but it kept running through her head. "This one here," Lavender said, opening her eyes and pointing to her left shoulder. "I was running from Alecto Carrow. Running. If I didn't, I wouldn't have put it past him to kill me on the spot. Caught at night, trying to help a First Year chained to the walls. I tripped and caught myself on a suit of armour."

Hermione pulled back her sleeves and revealed many round burn marks. "We broke into Gringotts. To find a sword that would help us defeat Voldemort. But every time we touched anything in the vault, it would burn and multiply. We were nearly buried in it."

Lavender sighed and closed her eyes again. "My face," She said, still with her eyes closed. "And my neck, arms, chest. Basically everywhere. I was attacked by a werewolf."

"And I saved you."

Lavender wasn't expecting Hermione to say that. She faltered. "Y-you … what?"

Hermione folded her arms stiffly and sat down, again right on the edge of the chair. "You heard. I saw you fall and Greyback attacked you. I didn't want you to die, so I blasted him off you."

Lavender remembered bangs and cracks, pain and someone crying "NO!" …

"It was you …" Lavender didn't understand. "I don't think I'll ever get you, Hermione. You've made it very clear that you've hated me all these years, yet you still saved me? Why?"

Hermione glared. "I don't know about hate … intense dislike, perhaps?" She repeated Lavender's own words, mockingly. "Would you have let me die in that battle?"

"Let? Of course not!" Lavender was offended she'd even mention it.

"Then there's no question of why I did it," Hermione said. She sighed. "Let's face it, my only thoughts were 'save as many people as possible'. But when I saw you … I knew I couldn't let that happen. Believe it or not, you actually meant a lot to Ron."

"Ha. Whatever." Was Lavender's only reply. Hermione shook her head.

"You do," She said. "Your relationship with him … you gave him a sense of confidence. And security. He's always had low self esteem, but you helped him feel good about himself – that someone actually liked him."

"All right, I guess I did," Lavender said. "I don't get where you're going with this, Hermione. Even though you admit it was good in the long run, you still didn't accept us at all! You didn't talk to him for months!"

"Yes, ok, I hated it!" Hermione said bitterly. "Everything was looking good, we seemed to be actually getting somewhere and then you came and I hated you for it. I was in love with him – I still am and always have – and he just … I hated him too."

"I hated you as well," Lavender admitted. She didn't know if any good would come from it, but she decided to give it a whirl. "I had what I wanted but I knew it would never last while you were around. Believe it or not, but it was always going to come back to you. You and Ron … you were just drawn to each other. It was as plain as day, even I could see it. But I just lived in a mad bubble world where everything was perfect and you didn't exist. I forced it out. I guess that made it worse in the long run."

Hermione was silent for a while before muttering, "I'm sorry, Lavender."

Lavender nodded. "I'm sorry, too."

It wasn't perfect. Things were far from perfect. It would take years for their world to recover entirely from the war, deaths would never be fully gotten over and Lavender still hated Hermione. Or was it intense dislike? Lavender didn't know.

But they were sorry. And that was enough for now.

Every now and then, Lavender liked to resort back to her Bubble World. She mainly continued without it, but whenever she was having a troublesome time – nightmares, people laughing, staring or pointing at her scars, remembering those who died – she would revert back to her old ways of forging a perfect world.

But now in her Bubble World, Hermione did exist and she still had her scars; because Hermione had taught her how to live after the war and how to be proud of her scars.

It didn't mean Lavender had to like her. But she accepted her.

I've got some friends, some that I hardily know. But we've had some times I wouldn't trade for the world.

-Fin.

A/N: Exactly three years ago, a fourteen year old girl by the name of Jordan decided to join Fanfiction. She created an account and has been known as Moon ever since. That girl was me - Happy Anniversary to Moi!

The last quote, plus most of the words from the scene with Lavender and Ron and a quote from the second to last scene were shamelessly stolen from the lyrics of "Swing Life Away" by Rise Against. I've always liked Lavender, and i felt compelled to write about her, particuarly about her relationship with Hermione. I had fun and i hope you all enjoyed it.

Thank you for reading and to my amazing reviewers! Remember reviews are always appreciated!

Until Next time-

-Moon. : D