Lavender Brown scowled slightly as she set down her quill, staring down at the sentence she had just written. Yes, rule number one certainly was the most important of all; it was number one for a reason, after all. Ah, if only someone else had written this handy-dandy manual for her a few years back…
Twenty-year-old Lavender sat alone in a booth, staring out the window to a morning that matched her mood perfectly. The sky was stormy and dark, and fat black rain clouds were beginning to form over Hogsmeade village. A stiff wind buffeted a discarded candy wrapper across the quiet street; Lavender’s big blue eyes followed its progress apathetically until it was blown off into the distance. For no particular reason she squinted after it, trying to see where it had gone. And then…
Lavender let out a shriek as the face of a man appeared outside the window, just inches from her own. Jumping back what must have been several feet, she gazed wide-eyed at the pale, bleeding wizard who had Apparated so suddenly outside. With little regard for manners, she stared at him with a sort of horrified curiosity as he turned away and hobbled toward the door.
The young woman’s heartbeat was just returning to normal as the man walked into the Three Broomsticks. Although he looked to be scarcely older than Lavender herself, he was limping and leaning heavily on a walking stick as he stumped toward the bar.
The man must have felt Lavender’s eyes upon him; just as he had taken a seat on the barstool, he turned around and met her gaze with dark, piercing eyes. Lavender blushed as the man rose to his feet once more and walked toward her.
“Sorry if I scared you,” he said with a warm smile. He stuck out a hand. “I’m Richard.”
“L-Lavender,” replied the girl shakily. Realizing that she was being rude, Lavender let out a breath and said, “I’m so sorry, you just came out of nowhere…”
“Well… That’s sort of the point of Apparation, you know.” It could just as easily have been a scathing comment, but there was an easy grin on the man’s face as he said this. And then, more seriously, he added, “Are you one, too?”
“What? Oh, of course!” she exclaimed. This man was certainly thicker than he looked. Who else but a witch would be in the Three Broomsticks, clad in robes and sipping butterbeer, discussing with him the point of Apparation?
The man looked both surprised and pleased. “You are? I’ve never met another one before. Have a good one last night?”
Lavender looked scandalized. “I beg your pardon?” she asked with her frostiest glare (she had learned it from her old Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall). “A good what, might I ask?” Her eyes dared him to say what she thought he meant.
Richard looked confused as to her reaction. “Eh… A good transformation?”
Still trying to figure out how he had never met another magical person, when he clearly was a regular to the Three Broomsticks, Lavender blinked once, twice, before realizing what he meant. The ashen face, the scars… Her eyes widened: this man was a werewolf.
Lavender was by no means afraid of werewolves”after all, her ex-professor Remus Lupin (who had been, Lavender remembered, rather attractive with his dark eyes and cute scars) had been her favorite teacher at Hogwarts. Bless his soul. But at the same time, she raised a hand unconsciously to her face; a face which still bore the scars left there by Fenrir Greyback.
Rather offended, Lavender scowled at the man and answered. “Never mind, I’m not one. I must have misunderstood you.” She sipped prissily at her butterbeer, hoping that the man would take the hint and leave her alone.
However, he did not. Sitting down at the booth across from Lavender, he gave a quick wave to Madam Rosemerta before turning his deep brown eyes curiously to Lavender. “Those are cursed scars,” he said without preamble. “How did you get them?”
Sitting so close to him, Lavender could not help but notice that he was very good-looking. Blushing slightly, she averted her gaze. “I”I’d rather not talk about it,” she said. Then, deciding to take the initiative, she added with her most flirtatious smile, “Not today, at least.”
Richard grinned roguishly. “I guess you’ll have to tell me some other time, then.” Rosemerta had just arrived with a mug of Firewhiskey, and he downed it in a single go before slapping a few Galleons down on the table.
“Nice to meet you,” he said as he rose to his feet. Lavender leaned forward to shake his extended hand, and as she did so he neatly palmed her a small slip of parchment.
Lavender sat watching him leave, and did not examine the parchment until she saw him spin in the gloomy streets and disappear. When she did venture to look down at it, Lavender was pleasantly surprised to see an address written on it in untidy handwriting. Lav pocketed it with a small smile; after all, there was certainly no rule against dating a werewolf.