That New Girl in the Mirror by Luvscharlie

Warnings: None

A/N: Originally written for the 2010 hp_rarities fest on Live Journal.

This was stupid—a completely daft idea really. Who was she fooling anyway? Certainly not herself, definitely not her parents—they thought she had gone completely round the bend. After all, this was not the way they had raised her. She was their pride and joy, and they had always treated her as somewhat of a show piece. She was Lavender Brown, pretty girl—or at least she had been—once, long before this nightmare began. That was how she, and all of those around her, thought of her—the pretty one, the one who giggled loudly at all the silly things boys said, the one who never went without perfect make-up and who had her choice of boyfriends… well mostly. She had at least had her choice of boys who didn't prefer ridiculous hair attached to overlarge heads.

Of course, all of that had been before. She wasn't any of those things anymore.

Now, she was Lavender Brown—the girl covered in werewolf bites, certainly no longer considered pretty, and left with the predicament of wondering what the hell to do with her life. Fashion modelling was certainly out of the question now.

And one year after the war, this bit of ridiculousness had been what she came up with. She took a deep breath, pulled open the door and walked into the Auror Academy.

There was a shortage of Aurors after the war. The Ministry couldn't afford to be quite so selective these days, and now that she was no longer just a pretty face (not even a remotely attractive one, if you asked the mirror—not that she ever did, it just volunteered the word "ugly" far too often—well it had, until she smashed it), she figured why not give this a try. That last year of Hogwarts, she'd learned a good deal, and her curses and stealth had improved tremendously. So, maybe she was cut out for this kind of work after all… maybe.

Besides, Lavender was tired of being thought of as brainless. She wasn't. If she'd played the part of simpering twit to impress boys—well, chalk that up to a stupid teenage mistake. All those foolish magazines for young witches on how to catch a wizard's eye had been—well, she couldn't say they were all wrong. She'd attracted plenty of teenage boys, but they had no staying power—she guessed the magazines had conveniently forgotten to mention that. The boys had simply showed her attention and then gone on their way. They hadn't stuck around; not even when she'd let them go a bit farther than other girls. It appeared men were attracted to brains… and ridiculous hair that looked like it had been attacked by a Niffler looking for gold, and—No, she thought, stopping for another deep, cleansing breath—this was the new Lavender. The Lavender who was beyond being jealous and petty and—okay, not completely, but mostly. She was trying anyway.

She made her way into the room full of new and hopeful Auror trainees, doing her best to keep her head held high and to stop her knees from shaking. And, wouldn't you know it, the first person to cross her path was none other than Ron Weasley.

"Lavender?" he said, his voice registering his surprise.

Deep breath. Inhale. Let it out slowly. "Hello, Ron," she said on the exhale.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked, his voice clearly conveying that he did not think she could possibly be there for the same reason she was. That she wasn't cut out to be an Auror after all.

She remained calm. Perhaps she was overreacting, and that hadn't been what he meant at all. Perhaps she was only reflecting her own self doubt in his innocent words. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean you're not here for Auror training, obviously, so why are you—"

She cut him off and pasted on a polite smile, then steeped her voice with the utmost sarcasm, and said, "I'm here to make sure you lot don't run out of refreshments."

"Oh, well that makes sense then."

And Lavender saw red…

Seriously? This was how it was to all start? My brand new life. The new and improved Lavender Brown, and this was where it would begin? Life sucked sometimes. It really did.

And really, what other choice did he leave her? None that she could think of, so she raised her foot, pulled it back and connected it soundly with his shin. And oh, how satisfying was that kick? So very.

Ron began to hop around, clutching his injured leg. "What'd you do that for?"

She might have answered, "Because you're an idiot," but she never got the chance. Hestia Jones, who was Head of the Auror Training Academy, appeared at that moment and called her new class of students to order.

"Welcome, everyone," Hestia said. "Let me just make sure everyone's here." She took out her wand and a clipboard began to float in front of her. She began to call out her roll, and when she came to "Brown, Lavender," Lavender responded with, "Present," giving Ron a look that she hope conveyed all of her contempt.

She even heard him mutter something about them letting anyone in these days, but she chose to ignore it. Lavender was determined not to let the likes of Ron Weasley undermine her attempt at self-confidence.

With the roll all called, Hestia began to pair them up. It appeared there would be little in the way of orientation. They were just going to start right away. Harry Potter was, of course, there but for the most part the Academy was filled with people who had gone to school with Harry, so there was little in the way of commotion. They were, after all, used to him, and his fame affected them little.

"Ron Weasley," Hestia called out. "You'll be working with—" Ron leaned in close to Harry, convinced, it seemed, that they were to be paired up—"with," Hestia continued skimming down her list, "Yes, this will do nicely. Lavender Brown."

And Lavender's stomach flipped over… it really was not her day.

"No," Ron wailed in a sort of a high-pitched whine. "Not her. She kicked me," he said, pointing toward his leg like a petulant child.

"Oh good," Hestia replied, nonplussed. "You'll learn to keep your guard up then."

And with those final words, Lavender's world began to spiral out of control…On the up side, Ron didn't look too happy about it either. She could almost hear her mother's voice in her head, "There is always a bright side, Lavender," her mum would say. "One simply needs to know where to look for it."

Their first task was apparently intended to weed out any people who had decided to join up on a whim. Great big war heroes (or at least they all thought they were) with big scars to match their big egos, so sure, why not become Aurors? After all, she had.

They had been dropped into the middle of a forest at night time without their wands and told to find their way back out without any magical assistance. Lavender wasn't even sure what skills they were testing. How a wizard became a Muggle? It all seemed rather ridiculous to her, but who was she to judge really?

She had been left in the forest with nothing but a map and a partner with a snarky mouth and what she believed was his complete inability to read said map.

"You're holding it upside down," Lavender snapped, since Ron refused to let her hold the map or have any say in which way they were going. "At this rate, we're going to grow old in this stupid forest."

"Oh, we are not! I spent the last year with Harry and Hermione hunting Horcruxes in more than one forest; I'm fairly certain I can find my way out of this one."

"Yes, well Harry and Hermione aren't here right now," Lavender said with a derisive snort.

"Boy, don't I know that." She was sure she heard Ron mumble those words under his breath. She chose to ignore them.

"There's only me. And you know, I might actually be able to help if you'd let me look at the map."

"I've got this," Ron replied with an air of authority. "Besides I think this map is only a ploy to knock off our concentration. A good wizard acts on instinct."

"Instinct? You cannot be serious. Is this one of those men who refuse to ask for directions things that I continually hear my mum complaining about?"

"I'm completely serious. You know," Ron said, annoyed, "I helped Harry save the world. You might at least give me a bit of credit for that and take my word for this. And I completely know which way to go. I don't need to get directions from the likes of you."

"I might take your word for it," Lavender replied, and rolled her eyes when the moonlight reflected Ron's smug smile back at her. His smile quickly turned to a frown as she continued on. "But I won't, because I don't think you have any idea how to get us out of this forest, and I have no plans to eat tree bark for my breakfast tomorrow. Not when there are nice, plump muffins waiting for me at home in my flat."

"Fine! Have it then. We don't need it, I'm telling you," Ron said, handing over the map. "My instincts tell me to go this way."

Lavender grabbed at his arm and kept him from walking off. She looked at the map and shook her head. "Well, regardless of what your instincts say, the map clearly indicates that we should go back the way we've come. We're going the wrong way and have been for hours."

"You know, I don't have to listen to this. You're not going to embarrass me in front of all my mates by getting us lost in this forest, Lavender. I actually take this seriously, you know," Ron said, as though she couldn't possibly really be here because she anticipated making this her career. "I've always wanted to be an Auror. I'm not just here because I couldn't find anything better to do."

That remark hit a little too close to the mark, and Lavender felt her anger building. "You know what, Ron? You're not the only one here who plans to become an actual Auror at the end of this training." Well, maybe she would and maybe she wouldn't, but how dare he presume to tell her what she would or would not become.

"Of course not," Ron said, shaking her off and continuing on away from her. "Harry will become one too."

"You're a—a—a—pigheaded moron! That's what you are." Lavender said, stomping her foot and being thankful that the moon had gone behind a cloud and that in the darkness no one could see the childish act. Aurors probably didn't throw temper tantrums, and being seen having a right good one wasn't going to improve her image.

"You know what? I don't have to put up with this. Find your own way out!" And with that, Ron stomped away…

…and two hours later Ron found his way out of the trees…

…to find Lavender sitting on a stump and waiting for him with the map folded neatly in her lap, Hestia Jones standing at her side, as Lavender filed at her nails.

"So nice of you to join us, Weasley," Hestia said. "Your partner here's been waiting on you for quite some time." Hestia looked down at Lavender's nail polish. "Ooh, nice shade. What is that?"

"I like to call it Not-Lost-in-the-Woods Red," Lavender said with a smirk. And even in the moonlight, Ron's blush of embarrassment could not be hidden. Lavender went home that night with a feeling of complete and utter satisfaction… not to mention nice nails. Her self-confidence replenished.

The next day found them working on blocking curses, and Lavender said a silent thank you for all the practise she had gotten in the Room of Requirement during that last year she'd spent at Hogwarts. Blocking curses had become important under the Carrows' rule, and out of necessity, she'd got quite good at it with some help from her fellow members of Dumbledore's Army. They'd been diligent in their practises, and it was paying off now (as it had back then).

In fact, Ron had been trying hard to throw her off balance and impress Hestia by getting a curse past Lavender, but thus far all of his efforts had been for naught. She'd easily dodged and repelled all of the curses he'd aimed her way. And Lavender beamed at the approving nods Hestia was giving her.

When they switched up and Lavender began throwing curses, she tried desperately to get one past him and was more than a little frustrated when all of her attempts were also for naught. He was as good at blocking curses as he was at throwing them. The git.

At the end of the day, they both came away from the exercise sweating and exhausted, but it was all worth it when Ron walked over to her and said, "You know, you're really not all that bad at that."

"I might even be good at it," she spit back.

"Maybe so," he relented.

It was a quite the compliment coming from him, and it felt good to hear. "Thanks."

"Well, you're not as good as I am, but you'll get there."

And there went that feeling of accomplishment. Prat.

The next day found their accuracy being tested. They were aiming their wand at flying targets, and the person who hit the most was to be rewarded with a most coveted day off. Lavender and Ron were currently tied, each having hit 80 moving targets, and Lavender felt that her arm might well fall off at any moment, from holding it up for so long.

One target remained. And that target represented a day of complete and utter freedom.

Frankly, the last few days had been exhausting… rewarding, but oh so very exhausting, and she wanted that day off badly.

So, she got close to Ron, batted her eyelashes, saw his eyebrows raise in utter confusion at the change in her demeanour, and then she leaned in, quickly grabbed his arm and bit him.

His wand clattered to the floor and as Ron screamed in pain (quite a set of vocal cords on him, really), Lavender took out the final target and earned herself a much needed rest.

"Congratulations, Brown," said Hestia. "Enjoy your day off."

"You cannot be serious," Ron said, still holding his arm. "She completely cheated."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lavender shot him a glare. "I did not cheat. I improvised."

"Improvised?" Ron said with incredulity, "IMPROVISED?"

"Well, it's good to know at least your ears function properly. Yes, I said improvised. Do you really think Death Eaters would play by a certain set of rules, Ron?"

"Well, no, but—"

"No, of course not," Lavender said with a nod of her head, smiling that he'd agreed with her.

"But—but—but—you still cheated!"

"Cheated is such an ugly word. I really do prefer 'improvised'." She gathered up her cloak and started for the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll head back to my flat so that I can begin my day off."

"You're a big, fat cheater," Ron mumbled under his breath.

Lavender stopped in her tracks and spun on him. "I know you did not just call me fat."

"Well, actually, I was calling you a cheater, but now that you mention it—your thighs are looking a little thick. So, I guess big, fat cheater is appropriate after all." Ron gave her a nod to emphasize the insult. "Oh, and your tits are saggy." He bent over and retrieved his wand, never turning his back on her—smartly.

Okay, that meant war.

Lavender drew her wand and shot a hex at him. Ron blocked it easily and shot back with another insult. "And you call that a bum? I've seen monkeys with better bums than yours."

"I'll have you know a monkey would be proud to have a bum like mine." She stopped before saying anything else. That hadn't exactly come out as she'd planned. It had sounded so much better in her head. "Well—well—well—" she stammered in an attempt to recover. When all else failed, hit a man where it hurt. "You have a tiny willy."

There was a deep gasp from Ron as though someone had knocked the very breath from his body. "You take that back!"

"I will not! Cause it is tiny. And I would know. I saw it enough times back in sixth year to remember." And with those words, Lavender turned on her heel and left, but not before seeing the hurt look Ron was giving her. She almost felt guilty. After all, his willy was perfectly respectable, and his lack of confidence was tearing away at her ability to be mean to him—then she remembered the thick thighs comment and thought it served him right.

The row with Ron had put a bit of a damper on her day off. She was feeling a good deal of guilt over the comment that had hit him, quite literally, below the belt.

But nothing could steal the pleasure completely from a bathtub full of bubbles. She'd poured in ample lilac scented bath salts, and the water was as hot as she could stand it. She was just slipping out of her dressing gown to sink down into that divine bath when there came a knock at her door.

"This better be good," she said, tying the sash of her dressing gown once more and pulling open the door.

And of all the people she had expected to see, Ron Weasley was the very last person on her list of anticipated callers. "Oh," she said, conscious of the thin dressing gown that she had answered the door wearing.

"I would have Flooed first, but I reckoned that would only end in yelling and name calling and that really seemed to defeat the purpose of my apologising." He scuffed the toe of his shoe back and forth looking very much like a scolded child.

"Well, you should apologise. I have a very nice bum, perky tits, and there is nothing thick about my thighs."

"And?" Ron said, giving her a hopeful look.

"And what?"

"And I do not have a small willy," he said, angry again and stomping his foot.

"Oh, that. Well…"

"I DON'T!"

"I'm sorry," Lavender relented. "I should not have said that. From what I remember your willy is a perfectly average size."

"AVERAGE? Oh there is nothing average about it. I'll have you know—" Ron started reaching for his belt buckle.

Lavender held up a hand and gave him a warning look. "Let me caution you that whatever comes out of those trousers is going to be shorter by half when I'm done with it."

Ron's hand stilled, seeming to realise she meant business. He shook his head in frustration. "This isn't going at all how I planned."

"And what exactly had you planned?"

"To apologise and then leave and everything would be okay between us."

"Okay, you have, and now you can go."

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" Ron asked.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lavender looked at him directly. "No. I don't appreciate being called fat, saggy or thick. And a monkey with an arse as nice as mine would win an award for best arse ever, I'll have you know. Probably be put in a museum or something on display for how the perfect arse should look."

Their eyes met and they both laughed at the ridiculousness of their bickering.

"Actually," Ron said, "I came to apologise for all of it. I mean, I really had no idea why you were at the Academy that first day. I figured you wouldn't last an hour, you'd break a nail and out the door you'd go."

"Fooled you, eh? You don't know me near as well as you think. Frankly, I'm tired of being that girl."

"No, I guess I don't know you much at all. We never did a lot of actual talking, did we?"

"No, not much. But I'm changing. I don't want to be that girl anymore." She motioned toward the scars that ran down the side of her neck, souvenirs from a war that sometimes seemed a lifetime ago. "It's not as if I could be that girl anymore, is it? A lot of things have changed."

Ron nodded his agreement. "They have changed. We're not those two kids anymore, are we?"

"No, sometimes it's hard to remember that we ever were."

"You're good at this, you know?" Ron said, and he appeared to be sincere. "I mean, I think you'll make a good Auror. I guess that's all I wanted to say."

"I guess we've both done some growing up over the past two years, huh? What you said to me, that means a lot. Thanks." She smiled up at him. He was still just as handsome as he always had been, and her heart gave a little flutter, maybe as much for that girl she used to be as for the boy he once was. And when he looked back at her today, it was with something so unlike the way he had when they were kids, that it caught her off guard. There was respect evident on his face. Respect for her. She wasn't sure that she'd ever been looked at in quite that way… and it felt nice… and somewhat uncomfortable. She broke the tension and kicked him lightly in the shin with her bare foot. "Git."

Ron grinned and followed her lead. "Prat," he replied. "See you tomorrow, then?"

"Absolutely. If I don't show up, who else will hex your arse?" she said, closing the door and leaning back against it with a contented sigh.

There were times she wondered who this new Lavender Brown was, but more and more, she thought this new Lavender was someone she could like.