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lavlavbrown · 3 years

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hc1: family background

Lavender was born the eldest child of Hollis and Ciara Brown. Her blood status could be highly debated. The Browns were pureblood, though not particularly well-connected or rated, but Hollis turned out to be a Squib. Ciara was practically pureblood, the last muggleborn in that side of the family having been three generations before, but her parents were victims of the first Wizarding War, back in 1971 and at that point 13 year old Ciara went to live with her muggleborn best friend, thus spending her holidays in muggle Birmingham. It was here that she first met Hollis.

At first, they both tried to keep their backgrounds from each other but as they grew closer in friendship they slowly started to work out each other's secret. When Ciara left Hogwarts, she was keen to stay away from the war that was still raging worse than ever, and so she returned to muggle Birmingham, settling into the muggle world for good as she started dating Hollis.

Lavender was a mistake. Neither of them wanted to risk bringing a child into a world that was still fighting and they hadn't planned for one yet. As such, she was raised in a mostly muggle way, going to a muggle primary school and having muggle friends. Even though the war had finished just before Lavender's second birthday, her parents were still hesitant to leave the Muggle world or even to try for another baby, as likely as they were to be a wix. It wasn't until Lavender was nine that they gave her a much-wanted sibling in her brother, Raleigh, and still the children were raised like muggles, despite knowing about magic in a distant sort of way. It created a dissonance when Lavender started Hogwarts as she was sort of a pureblood (if one were to be technical about it and brush over the Squib father); sort of a halfblood; sort of muggle-raised and ignorant about the wizarding world as her knowledge was more theoretical than experiential.

Raleigh is now a sixth-year Hogwarts student, following their mother into Hufflepuff.

#*about #*hc #*family

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lavlavbrown · 3 years

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malfoyarrogance:

where: Eeylop’s Owl Emporium/Magical Menagerie, Diagon Alley when: midday on a Tuesday who: open!

Reality is this: it’s midday and Draco’s on his lunch break; he heads to Eeylop’s to grab some treats for Cheshire (yes, he has to explain, Cheshire is an owl). It’s a rainy Tuesday, dark and chilly, and even though the shop doesn’t smell pleasant it’s a welcome reprieve from the weather, til a young boy enters with his pet snake. Draco doesn’t realize what he’s looking at, initially, just sees the vague, sinuous shape in his peripheral, curved around the boy’s shoulders. Harmless, to most people, but Draco’s not most people. It’s immediate, the panic, nausea roiling his stomach while his heart beats too fast. It’s not her, it’s not her, he repeats in his head, mantra doing little good. You’re a Slytherin, for fucks sake, what kind of Slytherin is afraid of snakes? But it’s too late when he shuts his eyes, hand gripping the bag of owl treats so tightly it breaks, scattering pellets across the floor.

Reality is not (anymore): Nagini’s thick, heavy body swishing over the hardwood floor in the hall outside his door; terror rising in his throat as he wonders whether the order’s been given, sweat prickling at his temples, heart in his throat. Mangled screams that echo up from the basement at all hours of the day and night. Fingers clutched so tight around his borrowed wand that his nails dug into his palm, as if he was powerful enough to do anything, anyway. Watching the Dark Lord wave a hand and then, ever obedient, Nagini’s mouth open wide for a new victim.

Reality is this: he’s crouched, shuddering, sweat-drenched in Eeylop’s Owl Emporium & Magical Menagerie for all the world to see. He doesn’t know if anyone’s paying attention, doesn’t care, can barely move. Is it gone? He doesn’t know how long he’s been hunched here, alone; it could’ve been seconds or hours. With trembling fingers, he reaches out to pick up the strewn owl treats, fumbling with the tiny pieces without really seeing them, trying to catch a full breath. Part of him thinks he might black out; he thought he was better, thought he’d had enough distance in years by now, and feels pathetic.

Then, a hand grips his shoulder—he lurches, breath caught in his throat, too afraid (always afraid, aren’t you, Draco; bet you haven’t gone a day in your life without being afraid of something) to turn and find out who he’s been exposed to at his worst. At least ‘his worst’, these days, isn’t quite as bad as it was back then.

“Are you alright?” he hears behind him, murmured. He swallows enough of his pride to twist his head.

Lavender tended to stick to Diagon Alley on her days off. It was too much, staying in Hogsmeade where she would only find herself seeing all of her regular customers. There wasn’t much she actually needed today, shopping wise, only the next batch of potions to deal with the monthly cycles that she couldn’t ever escape from, but they wouldn’t be ready to pick up for another hour and so she wandered up and down the street, finding entertainment in window shopping.

It was a rabbit that caught her eye first, one that sent her spinning back in time by how shockingly like Binky the little thing looked. If she were as impulsive as she had been ten years before, she would have already bought the bunny but now she had to think about the fact that she sometimes struggled to look after herself, she couldn’t handle a pet. She stepped to the side to allow a boy to pass, barely glancing over the snake he had over his shoulders. She really should get going. Lavender loved animals that were cute but her foray into Care of Magical Creatures lessons had taught her that she didn’t really like most animals in general, so this wasn’t the place for her to stay. Yet, she still found herself distracted by movement in the shop, and the sound of dry food scattering across the floor. At this point, Lavender knew she would be better to go. The squawking of over-excited owls and the disarray the shop quickly descended into was so very far from her scene, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from that familiar shade of blond hair.

Everybody in their year had been affected in some way; their year more than others. That was an unfortunate side-effect of six years of Hogwarts with the Boy-Who-Lived and a final year of children playing at being soldiers. Lavender felt as if she had fallen far from grace but she knew she was not the only one. Ten years ago, would Draco Malfoy be seen crouched down in the middle of some sort of crisis in public? Or would Lavender Brown be the one to approach him, only concern on her face? A face, once pretty, but now ruined by the mark of Fenrir Greyback, so that her shame and insecurities were bared for the world to see. There was no more hiding behind gossip or giggles or cuteness, so really what did she have to lose by showing an inch of kindness to the likes of Draco Malfoy?

“Are you alright?” she asked, not really thinking as she reached out towards him but her hand fell away when he flinched in response. “Malfoy, it’s okay. It’s—” She stopped herself from saying it’s just me. They had never exactly been on speaking terms before. “I’m not here to hurt you. What happened?”

#malfoyarrogance #c: draco #c:all #draco 001

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lavlavbrown · 3 years

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astxrias:

open starter

when: one in the morning

where: an abandoned factory outside manchester

Astoria frowned as she attempted to avoid poking herself in the eye with the small paper umbrella as she took a sip from her drink. Her frown deepened when she tasted whatever was in her glass. Either her order had been made wrong or that was what you got for having the Hog’s Head organise the drinks for your party. Still, at least she hadn’t paid for the drink.

She was about to head onto the dance floor when she spotted one of the Wizengamot liaisons from work standing close by, deep in conversation with whoever they were dancing with. Hurriedly, Astoria back away from the enchanted, glowing dance floor, stepping out of the light of the shimmering glitter balls. She finally thought - or, well, hoped - that she was making some kind of headway with making an impression at work. And being seen at an illegal rave, a little tipsy with a fuchsia drink in her hand was a surefire way to undo that progress.

In her flustered attempt to make herself scare, Astoria spun around, just in time to collide with someone else, sending sticky, hot pink liquid flying all over both of them.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she swore loudly, a slight whine in her voice. She didn’t look up at whoever she had just drenched, too busy trying to pull her wand out of the small silver bag she had slung across her body.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. Let me sort it,” she said, finally looking up at the person stood opposite her as she raised her wand, ready to evaporate the drink that was dripping off both of them.

She could hardly believe her luck that she was here. Lavender had heard about these nights and never quite had the fortune to come to one. Fortune in every sense of the word, because it was hardly a fruitful life, working just above minimum wage in a café commonly frequented by teenagers who would never think of tipping the staff and paying monthly for the Wolfsbane Potion. This time around, it just seemed to have happened, however, and she wasn’t going to spend too long thinking about how. She was finally here, to experience the only party anybody would talk about until the next Night of Magick.

She started to the dancefloor, only for the person in front of her to do an unexpected U-turn and Lavender’s reactions weren’t quite quick enough to stop in time. Her skirt was covered in something sticky and a pink stain was seeping into her otherwise white camisole top. “Oh!” she started, and her brain stopped working for a moment. It was like she forgot that magic would be able to solve this with a mere swish of the wand or that she really had much bigger issues in her life than a stain on her top. Lavender had never really handled mess very well, though. Herbology had been her least favourite subject at school simply because it involved digging around in dirt and she was very insistent that just because the majority of society saw werewolves were the lowest of the low didn’t mean she had to live in a grimy slum. “Ew,” she muttered, unable to move her mind on from being covered in something gross and sticky. Focus returned to the woman whose drink had spilled when she spoke and Lavender tried to feel relief at the offer to clean it up, instead of irritation. “It’s... it’s okay,” she said, though the screw of her nose somewhat negated that sentiment. Then she held onto the hem of her skirt, trying to pull the pleats out straight to make it easier to clean off. “It’s busy, isn’t it?” she said, her voice high and slightly strained. “Busier than I expected, I think. Which is good! But...” But, well, it meant for more spillages, apparently.

#c:all #c: astoria #astoria 001 #astxrias #events:all #event: night of magick

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