Note: I suppose I have no excuse here, except that I am very persnickety (I love that word!) and decided to revise this chapter again and again, as I'm picky about how I write conversation and this whole part is mainly conversation, and I changed a particular plotline around, and I also wanted to go back and fix some minor quibbles in the previous chapters. So, please, nobody kill me. I'm not so good with the angstier parts – damn them being so necessary to the story – and tend to rewrite them. (And come on, guys, mean e-mails are – well, mean!)

Thanks for all the reviews; I'm continually wowed. She's a Star, thanks for recommending me in your profile. I came, I saw, I squee'd. And Harry and the Potters rule.

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Part Seven

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I woke up very uncomfortably and was immediately met with the frowning face of Dean Thomas hovering over me. Firenze was nowhere to be seen, which did not bode well for our plans to escape unnoticed. I was dimly aware of voices in the kitchen. "Morning," Dean said grimly. "Actually, more like afternoon."

I flushed red. "I – er – I was tired."

He plunked himself across from me and practically sank into his chair, looking altogether weary. I felt horrible. Poor Dean, trapped in all of it, and all because I'd wanted some lousy Muggle wheelchair. "How are you feeling?"

"Stressed," I said mildly.

He was quiet for a long moment. It was like he was giving me a minute wake up and relax and such before increasing my horrible stress-load. Which I suppose was awfully nice of him. Then he sighed. "I was questioned by the Magical Law Enforcement Squad this morning," he said. "Scared me senseless, too. I thought that one of them would pull out a flask of Veritaserum at any moment."

"What did you tell them?"

"I had to tell half-truths, because—"

"Because they found your letters, and they know you know about Firenze," I finished. "And the one – about coming for supper here at your mum's house – it won't take them long to find out where your mum lives."

"Yes, they asked me that. I had to lie and say she just moved."

"So we'll leave this instant," I said automatically.

"Hang on," Dean said, and he had a very peculiar expression on his face, as though he were steeling himself to do something, or as though he had just eaten something disgusting. "You're not going to go running off into the great unknown."

"Oh, and what's your solution?"

"Er—" He looked down at his hands. "You'll see. Let's go into the kitchen."

Dean was behaving as though he were escorting a very fragile, unstable mental patient to the electric-shock room. In retrospect, I probably should have known what was coming. We went together into the kitchen, and, for one brief blessed second, everything seemed together. There was Augusta, who was brushing crumbs from the tablecloth, and Firenze, and then—

Oh, hell. For a minute I thought I really had gone insane and was hallucinating because there was a very familiar sandy-haired man sitting next to Firenze. The Prat himself.

"Dean Thomas," I said dangerously. "You did not just bring Seamus here."

"I wasn't the one who told the Prophet," Seamus said anxiously.

"Yes, Dean's convinced me of that, but you're still a miserable, philandering—"

"Lavender!" This came from both Firenze and Dean.

I suppose the collective power of their shouts left me slightly chagrined because I sat down, leaned back, folded my arms, and gave Seamus the patented Lavender Brown Evil Eye. "All right," I said crabbily. "Someone better explain to me what's going on."

"Simple," Dean said nervously from behind me. "You don't like each other. There's bad blood between you. No one would ever expect him to help you."

"Least of all me," I muttered.

"Surely you see the logic in this," Firenze said calmly. "Mr Finnigan is very unlikely to have Ministry officials knocking on his door looking for you – if, that is, you call him a prat as frequently in public as you do at home."

Both Seamus and Dean stuffed their fists in their mouths, trying not to laugh. "Lavender, do you remember my parents' summer house?" Seamus asked, around his covered mouth.

Did I remember the summer house? No, of course not, it was only the place where the prat asked me to marry him. My memory fails me! "Yeah," I said non-committally. "What about it?"

"That's where you're going to hide," Seamus said importantly.

"Uh-uh." I slid backward in my hair. "No – no way! Under absolutely no circumstances would I ever—"

"This goes beyond some stupid ongoing fight you have with one another," Dean said, before I could really get going. "I'm not about to let you and Firenze just go wandering off. Seamus is a brilliant plan."

"I can't believe you told him about this."

"I read it in the news," Seamus said, apparently stung. "And I took the Floo to Dean's myself early this morning – I figured, since you were together in London – er – he would know what was going on."

"What about Parvati?" I demanded.

"Well, she knows, of course – it's all over the wireless – but I didn't tell her I'd seen you in London or that I'm here right now. Anyway, you hate me," he said reasonably. "I don't think the Ministry will expect me to help you."

I tried to put the image of Parvati reacting to the news of my becoming a fugitive out of my mind. "I'm not staying with you!"

"Blimey, no!" He was horrorstruck at the very prospect, which was rude, considering. "I'm going straight back to my own house once we get you settled in – how in the world would I be able to explain that to Parvati? Oh, sorry, dear, we've both got to stop working indefinitely and hide in Ireland – that's okay, right? She'd have my head, Lavender."

"Oh." It suddenly occurred to me that I was meant to go back to work the previous night. I couldn't worry about that, though – Professor Vega would obviously know what had happened, and hopefully her guilt over sending me to Ateratra would prevent me from being summarily sacked. "Well, then, I suppose—"

Everyone looked approving. It was sort of condescending.

"But it doesn't mean I'm happy about this!" I snapped.

Dean's fist made an alarming return to his mouth.

"You said it was all over the wireless," I said slowly. "I'd like to know what they're saying about me, if we have time. Kind of so I know what I'm up against."

"Mum," Dean said, "do we still have that old wireless?"

Augusta, who had been watching the proceedings with the air of someone reading an extremely interesting book, suddenly snapped to attention. "Oh – oh, yes, it's upstairs. I'll go and bring it down."

We were quiet, listening the sounds of her shuffling around upstairs. I looked at Firenze and was surprised to see that he looked relatively calm; I had been expecting another sullen, silent face.

Augusta came back into the kitchen clutching a big wireless in her arms. Even with my limited knowledge of all things Muggle, I could tell that it was pretty old, with one of those funny things Muggle use to play recorded music. I was interested in spite of myself and touched it when Augusta placed it down on the table. "Does it have those Muggle power things in it? Bogies?"

"Batteries," Seamus corrected.

Augusta turned the wireless on and it started to broadcast a Muggle station. Dean tapped it with his wand – "Veneaudio!" – and the crackling sounds of the Wizarding Wireless Network filled the kitchen. We listened to the last strains of the current song, and then the announcer's voice came on. "That was You're Charming Me Crazy, by the Pointy Hat Players. Number five on the charts this week, and climbing. Now, for our top stories—"

"Good timing, mate," Seamus whispered.

The announcer went on. "Lavender Brown, the Godric's Hollow witch accused of harbouring a dangerous centaur, is still at large this afternoon, according to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Well, I always wanted to be famous. "Department officials received word from Daily Prophet insiders late last night that Brown has been hiding a Forbidden Forest centaur in her home for weeks. Unfortunately, recently-reinstated Prophet reporter Rita Skeeter – who stood trial for defamation two years ago and was acquitted – approached Brown at her home before alerting the Ministry, thus allowing Brown to get away."

And I never thought I'd be grateful to old Rita for anything.

"Please note: if you see Brown, do not approach her. She is potentially dangerous and mentally unstable."

"Hey!" I whapped the wireless with the back of my hand.

"Just breaking now – the Prophet itself received a statement yesterday from an undisclosed source. The text of the statement includes the following—" and here the announcer cleared his throat—"'It was never our intention to have him live; the traitor from the Forbidden Forest was meant to die in Ateratra. It is a disgrace to all centaurs to see one of our kind living as a human.'" The statement then names the location of Brown's home in Godric's Hollow."

Then the announcer went babbling on about some other story, but the kitchen could have been silent, for all I noticed. Firenze and I only stared at one another, his bright blue eyes unfathomable, and I opened my mouth to say something, but his expression changed swiftly and I couldn't have understood him any clearer – don't say a word, Lavender.

Firenze was on the verge of – something, I knew, and Dean, Augusta, and Seamus sensed it, too. Dean quietly charmed the radio off of the WWN, Augusta began to clear away the breakfast dishes, and Seamus gave a hearty, false laugh. "Well, shall we get moving? Get all your things."

"We don't have any things," I said pointedly, still keen on antagonizing him a little – what? He deserved it! "You see, you tend not to pack the whole house when you're running from the law."

"Right," Seamus said, rolling his eyes as we went into the living room. "You know, Lavender, it takes a special sort of person to act the way you do in the middle of a crisis."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a compliment on how much you aren't panicking," Dean supplied swiftly.

Firenze was painfully quiet.

"Well, then," Seamus said bracingly, taking a bit of Floo powder, "time to make our escape."

"Wait!" Augusta came running into the living room with the huge old-fashioned wireless in her arms. "Here," she said, panting slightly, "take this with you. That is, if you can take it – er, through the fireplace." She smiled. "Sorry, but I can never get used to that method of travel. I'm always afraid my poor boy will accidentally catch fire."

"Mum." Dean looked embarrassed.

"Well, I am!" Augusta said. She made to unload the wireless on me. "Here, make sure you don't drop it, it's quite heavy."

"Oh, I couldn't—"

"Oh, just take it, Lavender," she said. "You'll need to hear the news, won't you?"

"She's right," Dean said.

"Thank you," I said graciously, and took the big, clunky wireless, which I had to hold out in front of me with both my arms wrapped around it. Firenze was lightly leaning against me – he was still not the world's best walker – and Seamus was tugging on my shirt to get me towards the fireplace.

"Well," Dean said, "I would give you a good-bye hug, but you seem a little occupied at the moment."

I grinned. I felt quite a bit better; it's always easier to deal with things when you have friends. The whole idea of running off without telling them seemed foolish. "You'll have to owe me one."

We Flooed right to the summer house – where the weather was not all that summery in spite of it being late August – where Seamus had Apparated earlier in the morning to get the Floo fire going. I couldn't help but be touched at how he and Dean had thought out their plan. I set down the wireless. Firenze was still unnervingly silent, with the same shell-shocked expression on his face.

"Lavender, can I talk to you outside for a moment?" Seamus asked, before I could go and talk to Firenze about what we had we had heard on the Wizarding Wireless Network.

I glanced back at Firenze, who was still quiet and who had slumped down on the sofa like his bones had turned to mush. "Sure, Seamus," I said, too worried about Firenze to snipe back at him much.

We went out on the front porch and Seamus closed the front door – carefully, making a show of it, as though he was preparing himself. "Look, Lavender," he said, staring down at his feet. "For what it's worth – I'm really, really sorry."

"About what? This is perfect – I mean, the Ministry won't—"

"No, not about that. I mean – you know, you and Parvati and me."

"Oh." I was momentarily taken aback. "Good."

"But – this is what I meant to say – I don't think you should go on hating me – I mean, we shouldn't go on hating one another. Especially if we're going to both stay friends with Dean. I reckon it would only be awkward."

"Right."

"So, what do you say?"

"Friends, you mean?"

"Well, yes." He shuffled his feet, then somehow worked up the courage to meet my eyes, which must have been a pretty formidable task because I was still giving off the Evil Eye. "I'm not saying it won't be really uncomfortable – because it will be – but if I could convince Parvati to go off trying to one-up you all the time—"

I smiled – genuinely! "Ah, Seamus, that's what women do. Friendship is really only the other side of – er, arch-enemyship."

"Yeah, you're all mad." He smiled back, and extended his hand. "So – an agreement?"

"Well, I'd better say yes, or else you'll go running to the Ministry." I took his hand and shook it. Surprisingly enough, my hand did not burn instantly at the contact with the enemy. I took it as a good sign.

He looked at me seriously. "I hope you know I wouldn't ever do that."

"I know."

"So – er – do you have any idea who it was? That statement on the radio?"

I knew exactly who it was, but that look Firenze had shot me back at Augusta's kitchen table was still working very well at shutting me up. "Don't know," I said – probably unconvincingly because Seamus was looking at me with a half-smirk. Then I changed the subject, "Listen, will you tell Dean – and his mum – thank you for me?"

"Of course."

"Goodbye, then, Seamus. And thank you, too."

He held up his hands in mock protest. "What, no anger? No furious words? I really think I may have forced a reconciliation here, dear Lavender."

I laughed. "You're still a prat."

"And proud of it." He stepped off of the porch and – pop! – Apparated away.

I stood outside there thinking about him for a time. I was beginning to get pretty philosophical about the whole debacle with Parvati and the Prat. I mean, sometimes things just happen. Men truly can be clueless creatures. I suppose it's entirely possible for someone to be a prat when it comes to messing up relationships with entirely wonderful, sane, balanced women – ha! – but to still be a decent enough person in everyday life.

Everyday life, of course, being helping out a former fiancée and a centaur-turned-human escape from scapegoat-happy Ministry officials and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

I went around to the back of the house, which backed onto a pond and was admittedly very pretty, with flowers growing untended everywhere. I was standing in practically the same place I had been when Seamus had asked me to marry him, me close to the pond, him standing above me a little, the noise of his heedless parents from inside the house. It was different, standing there a time later, but I was shockingly not sad or angry. Like I said, I was only sort of – philosophical.

In fact, one could even say that I was completely and totally Over It.

Almost.

"Lavender," I whispered, "you are cooling off in your old age."

When I went back into the house, Firenze had not moved from his spot on the sofa. Not wanting to look at his face – which would, of course, be woeful – I went to stand behind him. "So – on the wireless – it was Padear's message, wasn't it?"

There was really no need to ask. I would have recognized that self-important style anywhere, what with having heard it moments before a near-death experience. Firenze didn't reply, so I moved around and stood in front of him, and then sat on the wooden coffee table so I could face him directly.

"They didn't know I was from the Forbidden Forest," Firenze said quietly, looking almost tearful. "I never told them. I thought I'd managed to trick them well enough."

"Maybe they knew and never told you."

"Perhaps," he said ironically, "they read it in the stars."

"Can they do that?" I asked. "Wait – never mind. Why would Padear snitch on you? I thought you were all separate from our laws and systems and whatnot – it just seems so ridiculous."

"You heard the wireless." His face was now pressed into his hands, so I couldn't see it. His voice was muffled. "They wanted me to die in the Forest – just like my old herd would have killed me if not for Hagrid's intervention, my new one would have left me to die if not for yours. I imagine it was unbearable for them – to think that I might have learned to be content as a human."

"That's so – horrible." Just then, I would have given anything for the ability to strangle those lousy vindictive centaurs. "I mean – as though everything before this wasn't punishment enough! They couldn't leave you well enough alone, could they?"

"Apparently not," he choked.

I stood up, fully intent on going into a rage. "What sort of behaviour is that? It's absolutely childish – it isn't as though you were doing anything to them, living away from them and all. What does it matter to them if you're dead or alive?"

"It is an affront to their honour and their pride," he said.

"I'm sorry, Firenze, but I don't understand."

"I didn't expect you to." He rose from his spot on the sofa, and walked a few steps in his slow, sloping, imperfect walk. I could tell that he had been crying.

"I'm so sorry," I said again.

"Do you mean to say that you feel sorry for me?" he asked.

There was a dangerous edge to his voice that made me step back a little. "Yes," I said honestly. "I mean – I don't think you're weak – but I can't help but sympathize—"

"I don't want you to," he said curtly.

"It's not like I can help it!" I retorted.

"I'm not someone to be pitied!" he thundered. "I'm a centaur!"

"No, you're not!" I shouted, then clapped my hands over my mouth. I felt the blood drain out of my face. "Oh, God, Firenze, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

But he looked more weary than anything; all the abrupt anger seemed to flow straight out of him. "Yes, I am," he said quietly, correcting me. "If someone were to magic you into some other creature, would you cease to be human? You might have paws rather than hands, or scales rather than skin, but your mind would remain unchanged, and it would be forever conscious of what it once controlled – what it was meantcontrol."

His hands were shaking. Without thinking, I reached out to grab them and held them by the wrist, holding them as firmly as I could. "First off – and we've been through this – I can't help but feel sorry for you. It doesn't mean that I think you're some kind of lesser creature or anything. I would never, ever think that way. And second, you can't let Padear and the rest of your herd hurt you like this. By all means, entertain all the revenge-fantasies you want – I can assure you that they're quite satisfying – but, you know, they win if you just break down."

Firenze just looked down at the floor, gritting his teeth.

"I'm sorry if I'm ever insensitive. I can be that way. I'm horrible sometimes and I know it. But please don't think I'm not trying to help you – please don't think you can't talk to me. I mean," and here I tried out a wan smile, "I may not understand everything completely, but it's better to get things out instead of just keeping them bottled up." Inwardly I cursed Padear a hundred times for this little setback. It dawned on me, then, though, that I could not keep forcing Firenze to read human books and the like – not when he could never really be human. I made up my mind to be a little more accommodating. "You don't have to learn to be content as a human – seriously, most humans are miserable. Look at us! But – you know – wouldn't it be nice vengeance if you did anyway?"

He gave a little laugh; halfway, it caught on a sob and then he began to cry again. It wasn't an undignified sort of crying, just a gentle sort of weeping, mostly quiet, and after a second I let go of his shaking wrists and just hugged him awkwardly.

"Lavender?" he asked, after a while.

"Yes?"

"You have endured as much as I have – I am very sorry for you, too."

"Well, we're a very sorry pair, aren't we?"

He laughed again. I think it was genuine.