In all honesty, Lavender had been extremely wary about attending the Charity Ball. What with the events that had taken place within the past year, and more specifically the past month, it'd be hard to blame her. Sure, Fenrir had yet to come knocking down her front door, but what of Seamus and Dean? The Death Eaters were on the offensive, and Lavender wasn't entirely too sure that they were all one-hundred percent safe.
The fact that security seemed to be lined up against every entrance of the place did soothe her mind. And, she'd tell herself, at least she wouldn't have to be alone. After Seamus had told her that she couldn't dance with him, she'd gone off into a right tiff over the subject. Once she'd found a date in Ernie Macmillan, however, her nerves were soothed. While it was true that they were only going as friends, she'd always been fond of Ernie. He was sweet. He wasn't too bad on the eyes, either, but that was a different subject matter entirely.
Lavender had taken more time than usual in getting ready that evening, as it had taken more than a few mediocre concealment charms to hide away the number of scars on her shoulders, back, and legs. She didn't want to have to settle for something with sleeves. Conservative dresses were far too stuffy for her tastes.
Eventually, she managed to get her skin to look nearly what it had been a year past, and so she had no worries when she slipped on her purple and charcoal dress. It was nice to be able to look into the mirror without seeing horrible, awful, and downright ugly scars marring up her body.
It was so nice, in fact, that she was able to put away the bulk of her worries and manage a sincere smile when Ernie brought her a flute of Champagne.
"Cheers," she returned the favor, and took a sip of her own glass. She looked around upon his question and shrugged.
"Anybody who's anybody, I suppose. But I wouldn't worry about it too much. We'll be the best looking out of the lot." And she meant it.