Lavender Brown’s life can be described in the two words: almost perfect. She has the perfect parents, who have always given her whatever she wants. The perfect friends, Parvati and Padma, who make her feel like the third twin. She has the perfect blonde hair, long and straight, perfect bright blue eyes, and perfect teeth that never needed braces or even a dental spell. She has the perfect social standing- not mocked like “Loony” Lovegood or Eloise Midgen, and in the best position to mock them herself (how else would you climb the social ladder?).



Best of all is her boyfriend, Ron Weasley. He isn’t particularly popular (though he is known for his friendship with Harry Potter) and if Lavender wanted to, she could date someone Parvati and Padma would consider ten times “better”. They tell Lavender her standards have dropped, that she should try and get Dean Thomas back. But Lavender knows that ploy would never work- Dean is dating Ginny Weasley, the most popular girl in school- and anyway, she doesn’t want him. She wants Ron. She sees something in him that her friends can’t. He’s totally sweet, funny, and adorable. Best of all, he’s a great kisser. Lavender is waiting for him now, sitting on a picnic blanket under one of the many trees on the Hogwarts grounds. She waits, stares up into space, and worries. Not about how she looks; her hair and clothes are perfect. Her jewelry, shoes, makeup- perfect. Everything would be perfect, wonderful, Lavender reflects, if it weren’t for her.



Hermione Granger puts the “almost” in Lavender’s almost perfect life. That bushy haired know-it-all dares to fancy Ron! Lavender is used to jealousy, and she loves it. Loves the envious stares, the fact that every girl in her year wants to be her. Let them glower as she walks down the hall with this month’s Hogwarts Hottie. That’s their problem, not Lavender’s.



Hermione is different. She’s jealous of Lavender, but that’s not the real problem. Lavender is jealous of Hermione.



No, she doesn’t particularly want to want to be smart, and she certainly doesn’t want that awful hair. She wants the way Ron looks at Hermione when she scowls at him. She wants the laughter and adventures they shared, back before Lavender’s crush on Ron took root. She wants to know that she, Lavender, is Ron’s one and only; that he doesn’t wink at other girls, kiss other girls. She has a vague feeling that as long as Hermione is around, she can never truly know that.



It doesn’t help that Ron is very late for their picnic.



Lavender pulls her trendy sweater closer around her shoulders and glances up at the sky. It is blue, so blue, the same color that she has painted her fingernails. But there is a cloud on the horizon, and not a cottony puff of a cloud that would only add to the day’s beauty. A storm cloud, gray and heavy, hanging ominously. It threatens the sky’s perfection, obviously resents the good weather, a parade it cannot rain on. Alone, this cloud could produce enough rain to get one wet, if it was very lucky.



Lavender fears that that one person would be her.



Hermione is her storm cloud, her inkblot on a good essay, her spaghetti sauce stain on a beautiful set of robes. She is the “almost” in almost perfect. She likes Ron, and Ron might even like her back. He might. Even though Lavender is pretty and popular, with blonde hair and blue eyes instead of brown and brown, even though Hermione is an antisocial bookworm and she looks like a recently electrocuted chipmunk , he might.



She hears footsteps behind her and quickly turns around. Ron is walking toward her, in all his bewildering redheaded perfection. For the umpteenth time she wonders what is so special about him, why her makes her feel this way when no one else ever has. When no one ever should, because girls like her cannot afford anything more than the most superficial feelings.



He smiles crookedly and sits down beside Lavender. She gives him a quick kiss hello and pretends to listen as he explains why he is late, nodding patiently. When he is finished, she coos, “That’s okay, Won-Won. I’m sure it won’t happen again.” She runs a hand through his flame-colored hair, tousled from Quidditch-playing.



His ears turn red, one of the many adorable things about him. “See. Lavender, that’s what I was trying to-” he begins.



There is a moment of panic. He can’t be- he isn’t- No. She won’t let him. She quickly kisses him, touching her lips to hers seductively. The kiss grows deeper, and Lavender moves closer to Ron. He is so good at this. She loves it. She loves him.



This realization should make everything else unimportant. Right now, sitting on her handsome, perfect boyfriend’s lap, Lavender should be happy. But she can’t quite banish the feeling that although nothing seems wrong, something’s not right.



Blue as the sky is, there is cloud on the horizon. Lavender can wear a raincoat and carry an umbrella, but it will rain nonetheless, and she will get wet.