Work Text:
Lavender isn’t beautiful. She used to be, but that is one gruesome attack and painful healing past. Now she isn’t beautiful anymore, littered with scars, trying to hide behind her hair and to ignore the people staring. She should stand over this, wear them with pride and make them her own, but she can’t. All she sees when she looks into the mirror is what she will never be again.
Parvati doesn’t agree with her on that point. She traces the scars with light fingers and soft kisses, tells her that she is still the most beautiful woman she has ever seen and that nothing could change that. It never fails to warm Lavender, to make her smile and cling to that reassurance. It also never lasts. All too soon the doubts are creeping back in, when Parvati doesn’t hold her hand in public, when she doesn’t want to sit next to her in class, when she tells her with that little frown that her hair doesn’t cover them anymore. It’s only ever in the confines of their room that she shows the love she claims to feel.
It’s killing Lavender, slowly but surely, this change between hot and cold, how easily Parvati pushes her away when someone could see them. There is only one reasonable explanation why she would do this: shame. She is ashamed of Lavender, of her monstrosity and the love they share. Why else would she kiss her the second they are alone but sigh wistfully when asked if she is dating?
It wasn’t a problem at first, the secretive nature of their relationship allowing them to figure things out away from prying eyes and intrusive questions. But the surer Lavender has become of her feelings and her desires, the more it has become a burden. Lavender thought they would one day openly proclaim their love; that she would get to kiss her girlfriend in public and glare at anyone asking her out as if Lavender wasn’t standing right next to her. But Parvati is making no motions to tell anyone, seemingly content with keeping the secret and unwilling to profess whatever it is they have.
And now she is standing here, in the freezing cold, watching Parvati laugh with Anthony Goldstein. Lavender glares at them both, not that they notice. No, Goldstein is far too busy carding Parvati’s hair behind her ear - nothing more than an excuse to get closer, obviously, and a poor one at that - and Parvati, instead of shoving him away, smiles at him, her own hand tracing the movement. Lavender has seen quite enough, things need to change. She can’t keep doing this, living of scraps she is thrown every now and then and otherwise only watch the woman she loves flirt and smile and laugh with virtually everyone but her. Either Parvati wants this, wants them, or she doesn’t, but she needs to choose.
Decision made, Lavender walks towards them before she can change her mind. She doesn’t stop until she stands in front of Parvati, Goldstein saying something she tunes out as she relishes in the delighted smile Parvati gifts her. It’s a beautiful and mesmerising thing, maybe even half the reason she loves her. It doesn’t seem important anymore, how often she can have this and whether or not people know Parvati belongs to her, as long as she has it some of the time. Surely sometimes is better than never?
“Did you want something, Lavender?” The polite question shocks her out of her foolish dream, makes it abundantly clear how much she would have preferred for Parvati to take her hand or to kiss her and prove beyond a doubt that Lavender belongs, that she is welcome and doesn’t need an excuse to talk to her.
“I want you to kiss me.” The words are out before she can stop them, rushing out of her like a breath hold too long and making Goldstein laugh obnoxiously loud. Lavender would glare at him, strangle him into silence with his stupid scarf, where it not for the astonished look on Parvati’s face, the exact same way she looks when Lavender tells her she loves her.
This is not what she expected. She thought Parvati would maybe try to deny everything, make her out to be crazy or desperate, delusional - not that she would smile like a miracle happened. It makes Lavender strangely uncomfortable, not knowing what will happen next, how to prepare for it.
“But we are in public.” Lavender almost tells her that she is very aware of this, that it’s kind of the point, when Parvati continues, voice trailing off in a question. “I though you don’t want …?”
Lavender’s confusion must have shown on her face, because Parvati laughs, combing the hair out of her face and tracing her scars like she does so often. “I thought you don’t want anyone to know, that you were ashamed of us, of those. I didn’t like it, but I also didn’t want to lose you over it. So I went along with it, trying to get my fill of you when we were alone. It wasn’t enough.”
And with a mischievous little grin, Parvati leans in to finally kiss her. Lavender stops thinking then, resolving to clear this mess of a relationship later, to ask burning questions that aren’t as important anymore. But for now she notices with smug satisfaction that Goldstein stopped laughing, maybe even choked on it, and kisses her girlfriend back.