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Gemini
"Dean Thomas?" asks Alicia Spinnet, positively agog. "With Luna Lovegood? Are you sure, Katie?"
Parvati keeps step with her fellow Gryffindor girls, listening intently to this latest bit of gossip.
"Positive," replies Katie Bell. "I saw her sitting on his lap in the Great Hall. And his arms were around her."
"Well, that's… I mean, they're rather an unusual pair, aren't they? I wouldn't have thought Luna would ever end up with someone…"
"Remotely normal?" supplies Katie.
Alicia blushes. "No." The blush turns deeper. "Well, sort of. She's just so…"
Katie raises her eyebrows. "Trust me. I know. You know, for all people make fun of her, though, she's very sweet and I think she's grown quite pretty– besides which she was a damn good fighter when it came down to it."
The statement impacts Parvati like an unexpected punch to the stomach. She hates the way the other students do this – reference that horrendous, unthinkable, god-awful night so casually. Why did they keep doing this to her?
"Well," Alicia concedes, "I think it's good that he's not still mooning over Ginny. She's obviously quite over him - if her and Harry's inability to keep their hands off each other is any indication."
"Rather sickening, isn't it, Parvati?" asks Katie cheerfully.
Parvati is trying not to blink. Every time she shuts her eyes she sees—
"Isn't it? Parvati?"
"Yes," she replies mechanically. "If you'll excuse me."
She walks away from both of the girls, knowing full well that they are exchanging bewildered glances behind her back. She pushes the door of the castle open and breathes a sigh of relief that there is no one else in the entranceway.
Breathing easier than she has been the last few minutes, she holds her wand up, points it at herself, and performs the incantation she has been using six to eight times a day all summer:
"Scourgify."
All trace of sweat disappears from her body and her skin feels raw, cool, and slightly tingly.
The spell will not cleanse the horrors of that night away. But this is the next best thing.
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For Parvati, it is cleanliness. She is not as observant of the others as Dean is; she has not noticed their affectations to any large extent. All she knows is that she will never stop feeling dirty.
That night. The-night-that-must-not-be-named. She cannot bear to think of those events in any sort of chronological order, and so they return to her disjointedly; in searing flashes and charred fragments.
Like-
Chasing – being chased - through trees – falling – tripping - wet ground – cold – wet - shoe falling off - just leave it - keep running - must run - feet –cold – wet - stepping on people – bodies? – stepping – running - and –
"Colin? Colin? What's happened? Are you hurt?"
Pale young eyes – not dead but dying - looking at her - pale – sick - so pale - "hit with a curse, please tell Dennis that"- his mouth opening – vomit – blood - on her face - on her clothes – smellohgodthesmell -
Vomit and blood - on her bare wet feet – dead - he's dead - I'm dead – I'm dead too - I just haven't been killed yet.
Running – screaming - falling again - vomit between toes squishing -
And-
Lavender – face - blood – strips of skin hanging off her neck – screaming - tasting vomit - Death Eater hand - Dirty Death Eater hand clapped over her mouth - get away – get help – Lavender – werewolf - blood dripping from its mouth - Lavender's blood - Lavender's skin.
Wetness on her face – snot running - Wetness on her thighs - so scared - urine dribbling down her legs - so scared - going to die. Just let me. Just let me.
"Relashio!" comes the spell. Ernie – Neville - Seamus. She faints.
Later. Waking up in the once-great-now-broken Great Hall. Drags herself out. Around the corner.
"Scourgify!" Ten times. Twenty. Not enough.
Neville finds her, her skin pink and raw and hurting but cleansocleanfinallyclean. He takes her wand away from her gently and she buries her face in his shoulder as he holds her, great wracking, heaving sobs erupting.
Parvati with the fresh, clean-smelling hair, and her beads and bangles and lip-reddening charms and glittery powders and floral perfumes . How can she ever be that person again? She has seen the ugliest thing in the world – Death – and it was on her skin and in her hair and it is inside her head.
How can she ever be that person again?
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Privately, Parvati has always thought that Hermione Granger - though undeniably smart, brave, and caring – is a bit of a twit. The girl's got brains, but she has zero understanding of people. She looks over at the two boys standing several yards away from her – a broken ginger-haired half-person and a swotty, studious, self-absorbed Ravenclaw who has maybe spoken three words to her.
"I knew what I was doing when I created these groups," Hermione had said, with a toss of her bushy hair. "Just trust me. It's for the best."
Parvati shakes her head. She thinks longingly of the Inter-House Unity Squad. Lavender. Susan. Indoors. Away from the dirt. She could have been picked for that. Instead she's out here in the Clock Tower Courtyard, crouching on hard flagstone, industriously repairing a broken staircase.
At least George and Anthony hadn't minded repairing the courtyard gate. Their feet are on the grass. The smell of dirt makes Parvati nauseous. Just the thought that it might get on her. Or that there might be other things in the grass; things that hadn't been cleaned up yet. Harry and Ron had found part of a finger just last week. Her wand twitches. She tries to fight the urge and loses. Parvati has never been strong that way.
She raises her voice. "I'll be right back, okay?" Anthony glances up and regards her curiously but says nothing. George doesn't even look up. Parvati swallows.
As if she needs another reminder of that night. This boy is so removed from the energetic prankster known as George Weasley that she can't believe his name is still the same. Parvati has grown up knowing the Weasley family. Fred and George have always picked on her, played with her, and laughed at her. They have pulled her plaits, teased her about her boyfriends, played Exploding Snap with her, snuck Canary Creams into her coffee, begged her to snog Lavender – all the things that outrageously rude teenage boys do.
The George of six months ago would have teased her mercilessly about her frequent need to excuse herself. He and Fred would have made reference to her bladder being disproportional to the size of her breasts, or implied that she was meeting Filch for a clandestine shag. But now – nothing. She might as well be invisible.
So she trudges up the stairs, pulls open the door, closes it behind her and- "Scourgify."
She can breathe again.
To Parvati's immense surprise, when she comes back down the stairs Anthony is standing by the gate with his arms folded and a frown on his face.
"Where the hell do you go when you disappear like that? You aren't gone long enough to go to the loo."
Parvati probably would be more annoyed at his presumptuousness if she weren't so startled that he actually noticed and/or cared. She walks over to the gate, careful to stay on the edge of the grass.
"I'm not doing anything important. And certainly nothing that concerns you," she replies a trifle coolly.
Anthony continues stubbornly. "You leave at least once an hour, and you always look upset right before you do. I mean, I've tried not to say anything, it's just - are you all right? Is something…the matter?"
Parvati frowns. He's not her keeper. "And if I were having a problem, I suppose I'd be telling you about it."
Anthony looks so uncertain – so unlike his usual smug self - that Parvati relents.
"It's nothing, really," she replies breezily. "Girl stuff."
Anthony looks totally bewildered. "Girl stuff? Okay, I know plenty of girls. And I have a mother and a sister. They don't stop whatever they're doing ten times a day and disappear, looking horribly anxious."
Parvati sighs. This one doesn't scare easy. "It's private. But it's not a big deal, and I'm fine. I promise."
Anthony nods, but continues to look doubtful. Desperate to change the subject, Parvati says in a rush: "I didn't know you had a sister."
Every muscle in his body seems to tighten. "My personal life is private," he sneers, indisputably mocking her. "But don't worry, I'm fine."
Parvati is a self-absorbed girl by nature. And the events of the last year have made her retreat into herself; have made her a more private, introspective person. But it has not escaped her notice that Anthony appears pained by Parvati's innocent question.
It is as she is deciding whether or not to push the issue that she notices two more things:
First, although they are arguing, she and Anthony are talking more than they ever have. Lavender has taken to calling their group the Silent Squad. Second: George is listening. It's true. He is leaning against the gate; interested eyes flicking back and forth between Anthony and Parvati. Not just politely pretending to listen. Not locked away in his mind. Actually paying attention.
It is this, more than anything, that guides her course of action.
"I'm… performing 'Scourgify' on myself. That's what I'm doing. Okay, Goldstein?"
Anthony frowns in confusion. "You're telling me you're… primping? God, you think a lot of your looks, don't you?" He appears disgusted with her.
"No!" she practically shouts, desperate to make herself understood. "No. God, no. It's just – that night" –Anthony looks startled, but nods and George looks away from them both, biting his lip and closing his eyes. Parvati wants to do the same.
"Go on," says Anthony, with considerably less rancor.
Parvati takes a deep, hitching breath. "I was so filthy that night. There was so much…blood. So much… I was covered from head to toe in things that I can't even…" The tears spring up unexpectedly. She fights them back. "Please. I can't talk about it. Please."
She scrubs her eyes with the back of her hand and chances a glance at George, who has turned as white as a ghost and is looking queasy. He is clutching the gate for support.
Anthony's face is inscrutable. He runs a hand through his short brown hair and looks at George worriedly. His gaze finally returns to Parvati.
"Sorry. I didn't know. I didn't think."
Parvati nods. "It's okay." Nothing is okay, actually, but that's not his fault.
"I didn't mean to be such a…" he trails off, looking embarrassed. "About my sister."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He sighs. "She's a muggle. Our father's a wizard, but our mother isn't. So I guess I got the gene, but she didn't."
Parvati wrinkles her nose. "What's a gene?"
"Basically, genes determine whether or not we're muggle or magical."
"Well, that's nothing to be embarrassed about; your sister being a muggle. You can't think I'd care?"
Anthony shakes his hand. "No, none of my friends would care about that. It's just"… He looks defensive for a moment. "I just hate it. I hate that she's not one of us. She's my best friend, and there's so much of my life that I can't share with her, and vice versa, you know? And now I'm starting to feel like…was it worth it? Is it worth it being a wizard; is it worth being separated from her? After the war, I just don't know anymore. I've seriously been considering…"
Parvati nods. "When Padma and I were Sorted into different Houses, I nearly left the school right then and there. We'd never been separated before. And then, at the Battle, I thought…" It is coming back to her now, flashes of it. "Someone told me, when I woke up, that they'd seen Padma earlier and that she was in terrible shape, scared out of her mind, injured, screaming her head off…"
George is shaking now and Parvati walks over to him and gently guides him into a standing position.
She knows that she should stop talking, for his sake, but Parvati cannot stop the words from streaming out of her. "I was more scared than I'd been the whole damn night, and that's saying something. But then," Parvati says, voice shaking, "there was a misunderstanding, and it turned out that it hadn't been Padma who was…" She takes a deep breath. "It was me that they had seen. When I found out that she was okay…"
She can't go on. She is glad that George is leaning on her. She feels as though she might fall down otherwise. And they are standing on the muddy ground. It had just rained yesterday.
Anthony's voice sounds huskier than it did before. "My first day of Hogwarts was the worst day of my life. I was so excited to get my letter, but when I actually had to go to King's Cross… when I had to leave my family. When I had to leave Rachel… I felt like…"
George is trembling, eyes shut tightly. "Please…" he says, which is the first word either of them has heard him say for a few days at least.
Anthony looks horrified. "I'm sorry, mate. Here we are blathering on about our problems when"-
George puts up a shaking hand up, cutting Anthony off. "No," he says, raggedly.
Parvati watches him fight for control and pats his arm soothingly. "You're so brave."
George laughs; the bitterest, cruelest laugh she has ever heard. It sends a physical chill down her body.
"D'you suppose the Sorting Hat knew this was coming? That I'd have to be brave because my twin brother would get his fucking arse killed"-
"George!" she cries, unable to bear the rage coming from him. Is this better than him being a broken shell? She doesn't know. He is silent now, but she can feel the anger flow off him. His wand is sparking slightly.
"Is – is your sister older or younger, Anthony?" she asks, trying to steer the conversation toward more navigable waters.
"She's…" Anthony trails off suddenly. When Parvati glances up at him, she finds him looking at both she and George with the utmost amazement. "…my twin."
A sudden wave of dizziness hits Parvati, and for a painful, stretched-taut moment, the only thing anchoring her to herself is her shock - the shock she can see mirrored in the blue eyes of the boy standing over her and the brown eyes of the boy in front of her. Before Parvati can even begin to form a single coherent thought, George falls down to the ground, taking her with him. His shoulders are shaking and he is sobbing – horrible, painful sobs that shake his whole body and leave him fighting for air.
"Oh, my God," he says, between sobs. "Oh, my God. You know. You both know."
And Parvati draws his head onto her lap, brushes her fingers through his hair, and rubs her other hand softly in circles on his shoulders and back. Parvati is sprawled on the ground; the underside of her jeans are covered in mud. Somehow, though, the tears splattering onto her leg make her feel cleaner than she's felt all summer. And as she helps George, and as George helps her, she looks up at Anthony, who is standing above them and looking at the two of them with such a hang-dog expression that her heart goes out to him.
Anthony kneels down next to Parvati, putting his left hand lightly on her shoulder. We'll fix him, she thinks fiercely, and Anthony nods as if he's heard her. The irony, of course, is that she and Anthony – and Padma – and Rachel – know something that no one else does. They know what it's like to sometimes feel like half a person and they know that George will never heal – not the way that Ron or Ginny or even Mrs. Weasley eventually will.
Parvati closes her eyes, feeling Anthony's hand on her shoulder and George's head on her knee and she draws strength from the bond between them.
She opens her eyes, staring down into the hole where George's ear should be.
No, she thinks, some things can't be fixed. But we can help him adapt.
She bends over, placing her lips against George's forehead gently, and she feels Anthony tighten his grip on her shoulder - and damn Hermione Granger. Damn her -
She had been right all along.
FIN