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Cho and Marietta got an apartment together, after the war, after they march back from Hogwarts (They fought there. They fought to protect their home.) It made sense. They could split the rent, and they’d been good roommates at Hogwarts. Marietta didn’t mind doing the laundry. Cho did most of the cooking. It was functional. It kept them afloat.
Cho spent most of her days not thinking about things. Not thinking about Voldemort, dead or not. Not thinking about the war. Not thinking about the friends who had died. Not thinking about Cedric. Not thinking about how the first place she worked was blown up by Death Eaters and how sometimes, she got a shard of panic in her heart and honestly believed, for one terrified moment, that they might be coming back to take the place she worked at now, all because a car backfired outside or she heard the raised voices of people arguing out on the street. She spent an entire month not thinking about things, and then coming back to the apartment and not talking about them with Marietta.
And then, after a month had passed, she spent most of her time thinking about one thing. One person. One who hated coffee and spent most mornings bleary-eyed and half-asleep. One who folded all of Cho’s clothes up neatly and left them on her bed. One who left notes all over the apartment in messy handwriting, going to the store, ice cream left in the freezer, don’t forget to water the plants.
A girls’ night in, Marietta had insisted. Nail polish, chocolate, soap operas, everything they could get their hands on. A chance to have fun. A chance to feel normal.
“What color do you want?” Marietta asked, showing off her array of nail polish. Purple, blue, orange, and yellow. Cho considered them, her mind fixing on blue, an old loyalty to her house. A heavy feeling settled in her chest (or maybe it was always there, waiting to rise up and remind her of its existence), a mix of guilt and anger and then further embarrassment that something as silly as a color could uncover those emotions.
“Yellow.” She chose instead. She said it before her mouth could betray her and pick something she’d want to scrub off later. This was the first time she’d seen Marietta truly happy about anything in weeks. Maybe months. She wished she could see her friend smile more. She had a truly beautiful smile, despite the world’s attempts to mar it.
The longer she thought about it, as she waited for Marietta to chose her own color, the more she realized that it was not a fluke. Cho had thought for a long time that she would have been happier in Hufflepuff. Her entire life people had tried to define her by her intelligence, and why? Because she told a hat when she was eleven that she was excited to learn magic? Who wouldn’t be? They never looked past her top level grades and a blue tie. No one had. Except maybe Cedric. He’d agreed with her, in that bright and easy way of his, that she’d have been good in Hufflepuff.
“Cho?” Marietta was staring at her. “You alright?”
Cho gave her a small smile to reassure her. “Yes. I’m fine. Should I do yours first?” It wasn’t enough for Marietta to be convinced, but she let it go anyway, relaxing back against the couch and holding out one hand for Cho to paint and the brush in her other. Cho worked carefully, enjoying the purple that Marietta had chosen and trying very hard not to hold her breath every time their fingers brushed up against each other accidentally.
Cedric had known. And so did Marietta.
She looked up for a moment to see that her friend was distracted by the Muggle television (a novelty for both of them). She didn’t dare to let her gaze linger, just in case Marietta noticed she’d stopped and wanted to know why. In those fleeting seconds, she tried to memorize everything about her friend, the way she’d tied her wild red hair back to keep it out of her face, her pretty green eyes, and the faded scars the crossed her face. They weren’t legible anymore, but they remained. Marietta hated them, covered them with makeup when they went out. She’d tried to have them healed, but by the time she was old enough and the war was over, it had been too long. It wasn’t fair.
Cho forced her mind back to nail polish. To her friend’s delicate fingers and the-
Nail polish.
“You’re quiet tonight.” Marietta commented after a while.
I think I’m in love with you, and I desperately want you to know, and I’m terrified that you’ll leave, and I want to kiss you, and I need you to know that it wasn’t your fault that you betrayed the DA, and I will always, always be loyal to you. But Cho didn’t say any of that. She kept her mouth closed until the onslaught of words had passed, and she could speak without fear of letting her emotions tumble out all over unsuspecting Marietta. It was hard. Holding back was not something she was used to doing, not around her.
“So are you,” she replied, obfuscating, distracting, before she gave herself away. Marietta shrugged.
“That’s fair,” she said. Cho finished her left hand and without thinking, reached for her right. She froze when she realized it, tried to pass it off as a sort of tremor, and though Marietta gave her an odd look, she didn’t say anything. “It’s not much of a girls’ night if we don’t gossip about something.” Cho was blushing, she was sure of it. She hoped that the low light hid that from Marietta, or maybe that she could pretend it was for another reason.
Marietta was inspecting her nails.
Cho was beginning to think this was a very bad idea.
“There was a bloke at the store the other day. I think he was flirting with me.” Cho bit her lip.
“Oh?” She managed, hoping that was all Marietta needed to continue.
“He’s come in a few times. Always finds some reason or another he needs help. I think his name is Jim?” Marietta laughed, and Cho echoed it weakly. She wanted to be happy for her, she really did. “He’s easy on the eyes, too.”
“Did he ask you out?” There was a script they were meant to follow. Cho had said those same words before, dozens of times, at Hogwarts, whenever Marietta started eyeing a guy. She knew them well enough to hear that her excitement didn’t sound quite genuine.
“No,” Marietta sighed as Cho finished coloring her pinky and released her hand. “Thanks. Now, let me have a turn.” She plucked the brush from Cho’s hand. The nails of her left hand had already dried enough that she didn’t need to worry about messing up the polish while doing Cho’s. “I’m not sure if I’d go out with him anyway.”
“I thought you liked him?” Cho asked. Marietta’s brow furrowed slightly.
“He’s nice enough. I just wish there was a connection.” She looked up at Cho. “You know what I mean?”
“Yes.” It was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She backpedaled. “You want him to understand you. To, um, see who you really are?”
“Kind of. He wasn’t there.” Marietta’s voice had gone quiet, like she was telling Cho a grave secret. “At Hogwarts. Or in the DA. Not like you and me.” She painted over Cho’s nails in a vibrant yellow in silence, the weight of all the things they left unsaid and unthought threatening to burst through their small bubble of happy normalcy.
“You could still go out with him, give it a try-” Cho struggled to come up with something that would lighten Marietta’s mood, but she was interrupted.
“Do you like anyone, Cho?” There was the script again. Marietta would gush about a boy, and then turn to Cho, ask that same question again and again, even though the answer was always the same, had been since Cedric died. Only once did she say, maybe, when Harry kissed her. He had been kind enough, but she’d never loved him, not really.
“I do.” Marietta’s eyes widened, the surprise evident on her face.
“You- Who is- Do I know him?” She stumbled over her words, trying to make up for the time she lost in her sudden shock.
“Yes. You... You know her.” Cho admitted, let it hang in the air between them. If she’d looked surprised before, it didn’t measure up to the look on Marietta’s face now, her mouth left slightly agape as she realized what Cho was saying.
“Her? I didn’t know you...” She stopped as Cho looked away. “What’s she like?” Marietta changed course immediately, taking it in stride, and for that, Cho was grateful.
“She’s...” Cho stalled. “She knows how to make me smile, even when I’ve had a horrible day. She’s never afraid to speak her mind about anything.” And she knew she could stop there, and Marietta would be satisfied, and she could go another day, another week, month, year, lifetime, without saying a word. She could have, and the thought of it made her feel the same sickly cold as a dementor’s presence. “She loves cats and hates coffee. She keeps a calendar in her bag but never remembers to check it. She’s the loveliest friend anyone could ask for. And she’s beautiful.” She whispered, not daring to look at Marietta’s face. She could feel tears pricking, ready to fall, waiting for Marietta to say something, anything.
“Cho,” Marietta said, and Cho felt one slide down her cheek, another follow it. She tried to hold back, but she’d never been good at it. “Oh, Merlin, Cho, don’t cry.” Marietta raised a hand to touch Cho’s cheek. “It’s okay, really. It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry.” Cho said back. She should have stopped, why didn’t she stop-
“No, it-” Marietta stopped, and then suddenly, she tilted Cho’s head up. Her mind went blank as Marietta... Marietta kissed her. It swept Cho away, all she imagined and more. When Marietta pulled back, because Cho couldn’t think straight long enough to do so, she ran a hand through her hair awkwardly. “I’ve never kissed a girl before, was that-”
“Wonderful.” Cho said like she still couldn’t believe it just happened, and Marietta smiled.
“I think I like you too.” She said, trying out the words as though to make sure they fit.
“Yeah. I- What’s wrong?” She looked worried. “You’re still crying.” Cho shook her head, trying to wipe her eyes. There weren’t words for what Marietta had let free inside her, the whirl of light and happiness that seemed to make the rest of the world less scary. So instead she took Marietta’s hand. Cho’s nail polish had been smudged slightly, but nails could be repainted.
“Everything is alright.” She said, though her eyes were still watering. They were happier tears now. “Thank you.” She leaned in, no longer hesitant. Their second kiss was even better than their first.