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Returning to Hogwarts was one of the most painful experiences Parvati had ever gone through.
Her fathers decision to move to England was hazy in that way all childhood memory's are, but the emotions remained. Most prominent was her excitement. Hogwarts at the time was mythical; a faraway castle in a foreign land, filled to the brim with magic and mystery and the greatest Witches and Wizards the world over. She remembered late nights huddling with her sister, each of them giggling and whispering for far too long. About the people, about what they would study, where they would play, which house they'd both go to.
She remembered too, their promise to each other. To never be separated, no matter what happened.
Parvati learned early on not to make promises she couldn't keep.
Padma was always so far away. Locked behind spiral staircases and impossible riddles and teacher scrutiny. When she wasn't in class or common room, her sister either had her head buried in a book or, worse yet, fully directed at her friends. Parvati still couldn't describe that feeling, betrayal, hurt, wondering, of seeing her sister laughing like she'd only laughed with Parvati. Only, Parvati wasn't even in the room.
Padma had always been the smart one, the quiet one. Quick on the uptake, speedy with words and fast to grasp the intricacy's of magic. Parvati on the other hand, had never even solved a riddle on her lonesome. No, instead Parvati's skills lay in social interactions. Friends and gossip and charms of the soirée variety. She'd always been the face, Padma the brains; each half of a completed whole. At least, until her sister had found like-minded fellows. That hurt. And so, Parvati went looking for friendship elsewhere.
There were four of them. Hermione Granger, Fey Dunbar, Lavender Brown and her. Gryffindor Girls Dorm of 1991.
Hermione was the one that Parvati got on with the least. She reminded her too much of her twin. Too bookish, too sharp, conjuring images of what if Padma had gotten red and gold instead of blue and bronze by some twist of fate. It sometimes hurt to look at her.
But Lavender and Fey?
It was hard to put into words how much she treasured them. The first night she'd ever spent at Hogwarts, she'd been a bundle of nerves and uncertainty. It'd been Lavender, and Fey to a lesser extent, who'd calmed her down. Talks of perfume and makeup and absolutely nothing at all, an inseparable bond formed from inane chatter and what it meant to each of them.
It had been then, buried in burgundy sheets, that Parvati had felt true kindred spirits touch her own.
Her, Lavender and Fey quickly became inseparable. They sat with each other, studied with each other, gossiped about boys with each other. Parvati had been the one to braid Lavender's hair in 4th year, carding her fingers through the blonde locks with delicate understanding. Lavender had in turn applied her makeup with a quiet, caring precision to her every move.
They'd promised each other to never separate, to always remain friends through thick and thin. The gossipy girls of Gryffindor, they'd jokingly called themselves. A trio as inseparable as the Golden one! (Parvati learned early on not to make promises she couldn't keep.)
And then Fey's severed head had been hung from a lamppost in Brighton and the world had come crashing down.
That was the day that Parvati had understood the impermanence of everything. How, at anytime, by anything, what she counted on most could be simply eradicated. It was terrifying and heartrending and returning to their dorm room with an empty bed had left a sour taste in her mouth and bile in a bucket; late into the night. But she had returned. She'd suffered Umbridge and Snape and everyone else, joined the DA, reconciled with her sister and fought onward. Her father had been adamant about neither of his girls returning to school but they'd both refused to abandon their friends.
They had cried themselves to sleep together that night.
And when the darkness had grown cold and that fourth bed had refused to creek, Lavender had been there to comfort. Always a smile, always a quiet squeeze and always a steady shoulder. Back then, Parvati only slept on her left side, where she could see Lavenders bed and not Fey's. Watch the rise and fall of the sheets and be assured that Lavender was still there, her bed still creaking.
Only now, sitting half buried in burgundy curtains, Parvati couldn't hear Lavenders bed creak.
Because Lavender was dead.
Because Fey was dead.
And the Hogwarts House Elves had done their job and now the mattress that held Lavenders imprint for the past seven years was cleaned, refluffed and neatly squared away.
And there was nothing Lavender about that.
There was only one girl with any sense of the orderly about her in Gryffindor and that was Hermione. Hermione, who had survived. Hermione, who still had her two friends. Hermione, who-
Hermione, who had killed and fought and bled and suffered.
Parvati couldn't be mad at her. She was the last one left.
Still, that traitorous wriggling voice in her mind kept asking. "Why not her? Why them? What's so special about Granger?"
She had no answer and the silence of the dorm room was suffocating. Then the door swung open.
Parvati looked up, her eyes locking onto the silhouette of the very girl she'd just been thinking about. Granger steped into the room, shoulders hunched with far more than just late night exhaustion. Granger- Hermione's bed creaked as she sits, depositing her schoolbag at the foot of her dresser. The bag gives a weighty thump as it lands, echoing around the room.
Parvati wonders if there's an imprint from Hermione dropping her bag there every time she returns. She wonders if, when they both graduate, the Elves will also fix that, scrub the room clean of any trace of their existence; impermanent, intangible. Evidence says yes.
"Long day?" Parvati rasps. Hermione jumps, landing feet spread apart, hand resting over where Parvati knows the girl keeps her wand.
"Sorry," she mutters, drawing the curtains tighter.
Hermione shakes her head, relaxing her stance. "No, no. I'm sorry, 'Vati. I didn't think you were in."
Parvati only hums, shifting further into the soft embrace of her bed. Its a reasonable assumption for Hermione to make; most nights Parvati isn't here. Doesn't return until late night turns to early morning and the whispers of feather-light ghosts grow weary enough to leave her alone. Long after Hermione goes to bed.
"'t's alright," she assures, coughing in an attempt to hide how underused her vocal cords are nowadays.
She can hear Hermione sigh, the other girl shifting her weight from foot to foot. No reply is forthcoming and so Parvati turns her attention back to the roof above her bed. Its dotted with roaring lions and twinkling stars that chase each other around. She remembers trying to figure out the charms that made them do that for hours, puzzling and giggling over textbooks on animation charms and portrait enchantments. They'd covered the the specifics in 6th year, but by then Parvati hadn't felt any wonder at the magic.
"Hey, Parvati," a soft voice calls and Parvati looks over only to find Hermione, standing awkwardly next to her bed. In her hands is a plate, a rich chilly curry and steamed vegetables on rice sitting on top of it. The smell almost makes Parvati's mouth water, so long since she'd last enjoyed such food. How she hadn't noticed either the plate or the smell as soon as Hermione had walked in, she didn't know.
Hermione carefully laid the plate on her dresser, shuffling back awkwardly before speaking. "I uh, didn't see you at dinner tonight and so I thought, well, maybe she forgot and I got you some. You know, if you were hungry?"
Oh. That was nice of her, Parvati thinks. But she knows that if she eats anything she'll just throw it back up later.
So Parvati opens her mouth to refuse, to tell her only remaining roommate that she appreciates it but she isn't hungry and she doesn't need it but thank you reall- And then her stomach grumbles, loud and long in the silence.
"Oh," she says instead, automatic, flat, "thank you."
Hermione nods, shuffles back a few paces, looks as if she's waiting for something, (perhaps for Parvati to begin eating?) before turning and wandering off to bed. Parvati watches her go with a strange mixture of feelings coiling in her gut. Hermione had never brought her food before, that had always been Fey's thing. Hermione had never remarked upon any one of them missing a meal either; beyond telling them not to starve themselves. In fact, Hermione had barely interacted with the other three; a product of differing interests and circumstances, Parvati supposes.
And yet here Hermione is, bringing her food. Some of her favorite food, even.
Strange.
Parvati eats half the plate and throws the rest out the window, lest she make a mess.