Parvati patil doesn't think she really has a right to miss Harry Potter as much as she does.
It feels a bit ridiculous, really. He isn’t hers to miss. But that doesn’t stop the heavy tug in her chest every time she thinks about where he might be, every time she wonders what he might be going through.
It’s dumb.
It’s. So. Dumb.
She isn’t his best friend. She’s barely even a friend, really. True, there’d been a few moments of friendship here and there. They’d actually spent quite a bit of time together their sixth year. It was kind of unavoidable as their respective best friends were busy sucking each other’s faces off every five seconds. The memory makes her smile. Not of the aforementioned face–sucking, of course, but of those moments spent with Harry Potter.
And of course, they’d danced once, awkward and stilted at the Yule Ball, where he looked at her like he wished he were anywhere else. Well, actually, he’d been looking at Cho half the time, which. Alright. She’d been looking at Cho a fair amount too, so she hadn’t blamed him, not really.
But she remembers the way his hand had hovered at her waist, not quite touching, as if he was scared he’d mess it up somehow. It was endearing. It was sweet. And unfortunately, it has led to a crush that has not let up even slightly in the years since that one date. She’s been a goner from then on.
And of course that stupid moment in that alcove last year had ruined her life for a minute.
Anyway.
She sits in the little window nook in the Gryffindor common room right now, dressed in an old nightdress and a sweater wrapped around her. It’s the only layer of real warmth she has, leaning up against the cold window, where icy cold rain falls down in sheets. She traces shapes in the condensation forming on the window, her fingers leaving faint trails on the glass as she thinks. About Harry, yes, but mostly the nightmare that Hogwarts has become in the last few months. She wasn’t even supposed to be here. Her parents had pulled her and Padma after Dumbledore had died, but unfortunately, the Ministry now requires attendance, so she and her sister hadn’t had a choice.
It’s a good thing the D.A has been started up again, or else Parvati would have lost her mind already, purely because of all the horrible things that have happened since the start of the year two months ago. She hadn’t needed any convincing to join up. The moment Neville had whispered to her and Lavender that they were restarting it, she’d been all in.
It feels good to fight back, even in small ways– graffiti, enchanted tricks, sabotaged lessons. Little acts of defiance to remind the Carrows, Snape, and themselves, that they weren’t broken yet.
But as much as she believed in what they were doing, it’s nights like these that make it harder. The waiting, the watching, the wondering. She draws another meaningless shape on the fogged-up glass and wonders, unbiddenly, if Harry would be proud of them. She likes to think so, that maybe he remembers the D.A. and what they all stood for. That he’d be happy they’re keeping hope somewhat alive here.
And selfishly, she wonders if he thinks about her.
Probably not. Almost definitely not.
She was just a small footnote in the chaos of his life, a fleeting moment in the grand, terrible story of Harry Potter.
But still.
Her heart twists when she remembers the last time she’d seen him. She remembers the expressions on his face as they’d spoken the day after Dumbledore’s death: drawn, exhausted, yet somehow, a little determined. He’d looked like a boy trying to hold up a crumbling world. Now, she supposes, he is. She leans her forehead against the cold glass, letting the chill seep into her skin. “You’d better be out there, Potter,” she murmurs to herself, her voice barely audible over the rain. “You’d better still be fighting. Because if you’re not…”
But she knows he is. He’d told her as much the night she’d left, when her parents had pulled her and Padma out of school. They’d talked for a little bit. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
The memory of that night resurfaces vividly, sharp and bittersweet. It was late, the castle cloaked in a heavy silence that felt oppressive. Parvati had been sitting in the courtyard, waiting for her parents to finalize the withdrawal paperwork with McGonagall. Padma had gone ahead, not wanting to linger. Parvati had stayed behind, telling herself she was saying goodbye to Hogwarts. In truth, she’d just needed a moment alone. She hadn’t expected Harry to find her there.
“Parvati?”
His voice startled her, soft but cutting through the quiet. She turned and saw him standing a few feet away, looking as weary as she felt. There was a tension in his posture, like he didn’t know whether to sit down or keep moving.
“Harry,” she said, blinking at him. “What’re you doing out here?”
He shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Needed some air. You?”
She hesitated, then gestured to the packed trunk at her feet, not bothering to suppress the bitter laughter that escaped her lips. “Leaving. My parents… they think it’s too dangerous now that Dumbledore’s gone. They don’t want Padma and me here without him.”
His face twisted, a complicated mix of frustration and understanding. “Right. Yeah, I get it.”
“I don’t want to go,” she added quickly, surprising herself with the raw honesty in her voice. “But it’s not really up to me.”
Harry had laughed his own bitter sound, and he’d walked over, sitting on the ground beside her.
“Something we have in common,” he’d said, and Parvati had frowned.
“You’re going, too?”
“It’s not really up to me,” he echoed her words from earlier. “I’ve got to stop–” he’d broken off then, words failing him, but Parvati had gotten the meaning. “Well. You know.”
“That’s not fair,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “You shouldn’t have to–”
“Maybe not,” he interrupted, a trace of a wry smile on his lips. “But it is what it is.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation pressing down on them. Parvati’s fingers toyed with the hem of her sleeve, her mind racing with things she wanted to say but didn’t know how.
“Will you promise me something?” she asked finally, her voice coming out stronger than she meant it to.
Harry turned to look at her, his green eyes catching the light, making her stomach flip. “What?”
“Be careful,” she said, her words trembling but resolute. “I know I don’t have the right to ask– I know we aren’t–” she swallows thickly. “but just… try to stay safe. Okay?”
He held her gaze for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “I’ll try,” he said, the same words he’d said so many times before. But this time, it felt like he meant it.
“Good,” she said, though her chest still ached with worry.
She feels a bit stupid now, thinking back at that conversation. What right did she have to ask anything of him? Harry Potter had bigger things to worry about than the promises he’d made to her, one fleeting conversation in the grand, terrible scheme of his life.
Parvati pulls the sweater tighter around her shoulders, curling up further in the window nook. The rain outside shows no sign of stopping, each drop streaking down the glass like a tear. She wishes she could feel warmer, even for a moment, but the cold is inside her now– deep in her chest, in the corners of her mind that wouldn’t stop replaying that night. It hadn’t even been a long conversation, and yet, it haunted her. Maybe it was because it was one of the last real moments of connection she’d had at Hogwarts before everything changed. Or maybe it was because she wanted to believe that in some small, insignificant way, she’d mattered to him in that moment.
It doesn’t matter now, though. He’s somewhere on the run, hopefully doing something to stop Voldemort.
She’s lost in her thoughts completely when the clock from beside the mantle over the fireplace chimes half past three in the morning, and a rush of anxiety overtakes Parvati for a moment. She’s the only one down here, Most of Gryffindor house is either asleep or pretending to be. Even Lavender has gone to bed, her earlier whispers of rebellion and survival plans fading into the silence of the dormitory. Parvati should be following her, but it’s her night for watch.
It’s not like she’s watching for danger, per se. The Carrows don’t come up to the common room and start brazenly attacking students, but whenever D.A members go out to cause havoc at the expense of their new Death Eater staff, another stays up to make sure they get back.
Keeping watch is a new rule, and the result of a lesson they had learned the hard way. One time, Lavender had gone out to put up some graffiti and got caught. She’d been taken, and no one had known for an entire day. Parvati shivers at the memory, her stomach twisting even now. They’d had to go rescue her, and Lavender had come back with bruises and cuts and curse marks that took weeks to fade and a haunted look that still hasn’t entirely left her eyes.
The watch was supposed to keep that from happening again. If someone doesn’t come back on time, they’re to be searched for at once. The less time in the Carrow’s clutches, the better. Ginny is out tonight. Seamus is with her. They were supposed to be back half an hour ago, and Parvati is about to go out looking when they stumble in through the portrait hole. Parvati lets out a sigh of relief.
“I was about to come looking for you,” she says, drawing her sweater tighter around herself and swinging her legs over the windowsill, planting her feet on the ground.
“We got held up,” Seamus says. “Nearly ran into Snape and had to hide out in an abandoned classroom for a while.”
“You should've sent a Patronus or something," Parvati chides, though her tone lacks any real bite. She's too relieved they're safe to really scold them.
"Yeah, well, we were a little busy trying not to get caught," Seamus replies, brushing rainwater out of his hair and flashing a crooked grin. Despite the tension in his voice, there's a spark of defiance in his eyes that makes Parvati wonder what, exactly, they’ve been up to.
“You were outside?” she asks, and Ginny nod, wringing water out of her hair, rain dripping onto the floor.
“The courtyard,” she says. “Took down all those pureblood supremacy posters and put up some of our own.” Ginny finally allows a small, triumphant smile to break through, raking her fingers through her wet hair and braiding it over her shoulder.
Seamus yawns.
“I’m off to bed,” he says, giving Ginny a hug and winking at Parvati. “Rebellion is really draining.” He grins at what he evidently thinks is a genius joke. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
They watch him go, and Ginny shakes her head, an endearing smile on her face. “I wonder what Lav sees in him,” she jokes, but when she turns back to Parvati, her grin falls slightly.
“You alright?”
Parvati nods. “Just tired.” Ginny gives her a look that reflects Parvati’s own exhaustion.
“Sorry,” she says apologetically. “I know that it’s late, but–”
“But it’s safety first,” Parvati finishes. “I get it.” She still hasn’t forgiven herself for not being able to help Lav. She still hasn’t been able to forget the sudden terror and realization that her friend hadn’t just gone to breakfast and classes early.
Ginny, seemingly sensing her turmoil, swallows thickly. “Mind if I sit?” she asks, and Parvati shrugs, gesturing for Ginny to join her. Parvati brings her feet up onto the cool stone of the windowsill, shivering as she presses her knees up against her chest. She brushes a few strands of hair out of her face that have come loose from the knot atop her head. They lapse into silence for a long time once Ginny takes her place across from Parvati, listening to the pattering of rain on the window and the thunder echoing across the grounds.
“What’re you thinking about?” Ginny asks. Parvati feels herself shrug, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“Not much.” She says, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in her voice. “The usual, I guess.” Ginny tilts her head and fixes Parvati with her brown eyes.
“Want to talk about it?” Ginny asks, and Parvati hesitates. The question lingers in the silence, and Parvati’s thoughts swirl in the same repetitive loops they always do on nights like this.
“I don’t really know how to put it in words,” she says softly, and Ginny looks at her carefully.
“Try.”
So she closes her eyes and thinks.
Because it’s not just Harry she misses– though his absence aches like a bruise she can’t stop pressing. She misses everything. She misses the Hogwarts she once knew. She misses the safety and warmth. Misses the silly arguments over Quidditch scores, the way the Great Hall sparkled with magic during feasts. It feels like another lifetime. Now, the castle feels colder, heavier. Like a shadow of its former self, weighed down by fear and death.
She misses Lavender’s laugh, carefree and loud, echoing in the common room as they plotted pranks or talked about boys. She misses Padma’s steady presence beside her, the way her twin always seemed to know what to say when Parvati didn’t. She misses Trelawney’s eccentric lessons, full of tea leaves and predictions. Everything good feels so far away now, like she’s reaching for something just out of her grasp.
She finally swallows and opens her mouth to speak, and when she does, it sounds foreign and tired in her ears.
“It’s like we’re all just... waiting,” she says. “Waiting for something to happen. Something to change. But we have to be the change, and it’s just. So hard.”
Ginny nods in understanding.
“I feel it too,” she replies. “It's like…”
“Like every day is the same,” Parvati finishes for her, and Ginny picks at a loose thread on her jumper.
“Yeah.”
There’s a long stretch of silence, punctuated by the pounding rain and the crackling of the dying fire. Parvati looks at Ginny, studies her carefully, and hates that she has the same haunted look in her eyes that Lavender has, despite the fact that Ginny seems to carry herself as if she’s already decided that they’ll win, no matter how impossible it feels some days. And honestly, Parvati can absolutely see how perfect Harry is for her.. They’re alike– both stubbornly, achingly good.
Parvati knows Ginny must miss Harry with a fierceness she can only imagine, but she never talks about it, never lets it weaken her. Ginny doesn’t need to say it for Parvati to know the ache is there, though, etched into the lines of her face when she thinks no one’s looking. And she doesn’t quite know what she’s thinking when she says it, but she can’t stop herself from saying, in a voice barely audible above the pounding rain,
“I miss him, too.”
Ginny looks up at her, confusion in her eyes. “Who?” she asks, and Parvati gives her what she hopes is a comforting smile.
“Harry,” she answers, and Ginny raises her eyebrows.
"Yeah?" she replies, leaning forward a little, an unfamiliar look in her eyes. Parvati nods, weighing the words in her head, trying to think how best to say them.
"Obviously not–” she begins carefully. “Not the way you do, him being your boyfriend and everything, but–” she shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. “We were in the same year, after all. “We were friends. Not great ones, but- good ones.” Ginny looks at her for a long time, and Parvati resists the urge to bite her lip nervously, waiting for a response. After a few moments Ginny decides on one, because her lips part and she says, in a voice that carries understanding:
“I know.” She gives Parvati a small smile. “I– well, I could see that you two had your own thing.”
Parvati blinks. Ginny’s words linger in the air between them, gentle but loaded with something she can’t quite name.
The fact that Ginny considers Parvati’s rather unconventional friendship with Harry as a thing has taken her by surprise, because what had they had, really? A brief, awkward date to the Yule Ball years ago, followed by a friendship that never quite deepened but never fully disappeared either.
Yes, it was easy to talk to him sometimes. Yes, he’d listened to her, even if he didn’t always understand. That had mattered to her.
But was that their thing? Or was it just Parvati clinging to fragments of a boy who had always felt so far away, even when he was right there? She doesn’t know how to explain it, not to Ginny and maybe not even to herself.
“It was never… serious,” Parvati finally says softly. “Not like what you two had– have.”
“What do you mean?”
"I don’t know. It was complicated, you know? We were... we were close in a way. There were times when it felt like more than just friendship, but... it was never really out in the open. Never talked about.” She shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. “I think maybe I was afraid it would just fall apart if we put a label on it."
Ginny hums in response, and Parvati wishes she’d say something more. When she doesn’t, she continues. “It doesn’t matter, though,” Parvati says. “Really, it doesn’t. Nothing ever came of it.” It hurts, but it’s true. Whatever crush or affection she has for Harry doesn’t matter in the end. It never would. He’s got eyes for Ginny, and Ginny only. Which is fine, really. But it does kind of make whatever she feels a bit pointless.
“But it does matter, doesn’t it?” Ginny says suddenly, as if reading Parvati’s mind. “Even if nothing came of it. It still means something to you.”
Parvati resists the urge to grimace, and shrugs. “I suppose it did,” she says slowly. “I cared about him, you know? In a quiet sort of way. He wasn’t perfect—none of us are—but there was something… steady about him. Something I liked being around. But it’s all in the past now. What’s the point in holding onto it?”
It’s not in the past to her, not in the slightest. But Ginny doesn’t need to know that. Honestly, Parvati doesn’t want her to. Ginny, whatever she says otherwise, is widely seen as Harry’s girlfriend. Because even though Harry has supposedly broken up with her, no one believes that for a second. And as much as Parvati loves Ginny, she knows Ginny probably wouldn’t take it so well to know that Parvati is still sort of, technically, maybe in love with Harry Potter.
True, it’s not like she ever acted on it. Technically speaking.
But, like she’d told Ginny, there had been moments. Heartfelt conversations, shared exasperation at Ron and Lavender, and, as an occupational hazard of their friend’s dating, acting as the respective third and fourth wheels of the snog fest that was so often beside them.
Then of course, there had been that aforementioned moment in the alcove of the corridor beside the common room. That almost–kind of–sort of half–kiss that Parvati hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for months.
She’d been hiding in a small alcove behind a tapestry outside the common room. Unable to stomach another public makeout session between Ron and Lavender, she’d slipped away from the party they’d been having to hide, bottle of firewhiskey in hand. She’d been there for about ten minutes before the tapestry was pushed open, revealing Harry Potter, looking surprised to see her.
“What’re you doing here?” Harry had asked, and Parvati grimaced, the mental image of her best friend entwined with Ron Weasley in the corner of the common room appearing in her mind.
“Hiding,” she said.
“From?”
“Our best friends. Did you see them in there? I love Lav, but I swear to Merlin, Harry, It’s going to make me lose my mind.”
Harry laughed, sitting down on the floor of the alcove beside her. “You and me both, Parvati,” he said. He looks around. “Come here often?” Parvati shrugged.
“Not really. But it’s a convenient place to escape, you know?” she takes a swig from the bottle in her hand. “Do you?”
Harry had smiled, turning his head to look at her. “I do, yeah. When things get to be too much. Usually it’s just when Ron and Hermione–” he breaks off and winces. “Well, they can’t seem to stop fighting, can they? I feel like every time I look at them, they’re either arguing or making up or–" He groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated. "And Lavender and Ron… they’re practically glued together, it’s nauseating. I don’t know if I can handle it much longer.”
Parvati stifled a smile, recognizing the frustration in Harry’s voice, and she couldn’t help but agree. Ron and Lavender were a bit much sometimes (really all the time), and since her best friend was dating Harry’s… well, she’d found herself more on the periphery of the constant whirlwind between Ron and Hermione. Because even when they weren’t getting along they were sort of a package deal, for good or for bad.
“I know what you mean,” Parvati said. “It’s like, every time we try to be serious, Ron and Lav are making out in the corner or having some dramatic fight about… well, anything.” She shook her head, glancing over at Harry. “It’s exhausting.”
“Hear hear,” Harry had replied, raising an invisible glass.
Parvati laughed softly, the sound light and easy, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything around them– the tension between Ron and Hermione, the strange distance she felt from Lavender lately, and the space that had suddenly appeared between herself and everyone else.
“I swear,” Harry continued, his voice quiet now, “it’s like Ron and Hermione are either too in love or too angry. And I get it, I really do, but sometimes I just wish they’d–” He sighed, his gaze flicking over to her, catching her eyes. “I just want them to stop pulling everyone into their chaos. I hate feeling like I have to pick sides.”
“Right,” Parvati had said. “Merlin– Harry, I really think I’m losing it. I just– I need peace, calm, no drama. Just for once.”
A flicker of something unfamiliar crossed Harry’s face, and he nodded slowly.
“Peace,” he’d murmured. “I like the sound of that.”
“Think we’ll get there?” Parvati had asked somewhat lamely. “Someday?” Harry had looked at her a little helplessly, apparently sensing the undertone in her voice, the subtle worry about what she knew she was really asking.
“I don’t know,” He’d said softly. “I don’t–” He’d trailed off, and Parvati only just then had recognized how close they were. Close enough that she could see the way his lips parted slightly, just the faintest movement, like he was about to say something more. Maybe she was imagining it, but it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them in this hidden, quiet alcove behind the tapestry of the willow tree.
Harry’s breath was shallow, his lips so close to hers that she could almost feel the pulse of his heart in the space between them. It wasn’t a loud moment, not a dramatic, world-altering scene, but it was something. Something that tugged at her chest in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
“Harry…” she whispered, and her voice caught in her throat. The sound of his name felt heavier than it should have, laden with the weight of everything they weren’t saying, everything that could be if things were different.
He’d met her eyes then, and there was something in them that made Parvati’s heart skip a couple beats. They were contemplative, and there was a depth in them that she hadn’t noticed before, something that drew her in despite the chaos swirling around them. He didn’t move, didn’t break the silence between them. His lips parted slightly, like he was about to speak, but nothing came. And in that pause, that suspended moment, Parvati could feel her heart racing, the hum of anticipation thick in the air.
And before she could fully comprehend it, his lips brushed against hers just barely– softly, fleetingly, as if they were both testing the waters, unsure, afraid to let it be anything more. Parvati’s heart skipped a beat, and before her mind could fully catch up to what was happening, she jerked back, panic coursing through her, breaking the fragile connection between them.
Her breath hitched as she looked at him, her pulse ringing in her ears. “I– sorry,” she’d stammered, her voice shaking, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the lingering rush of emotions or the sheer panic of what had just happened.
Harry seemed just as startled, his wide eyes darting between her face and his hands, as if trying to make sense of what had just occurred. “No, it’s… it’s okay,” he muttered, face as red as her’s surely was, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t– I didn’t mean to–”
“It’s fine,” Parvati cut him off, her voice more composed than she felt. She cleared her throat, trying to focus on anything but the heat rising in her cheeks. “I– uh, I should go. I just… I think I need some air.”
Before he could say anything else, she stood, gathering her things with a sudden urgency, her mind whirling with what had just happened.
“Parvati…” Harry’s voice was softer now, but she didn’t look back. She didn’t trust herself to.
“I’ll see you around,” she had said, her voice unsteady as she quickly turned and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest.. She wasn’t sure how she made it back to her dorm, her steps automatic as she walked, but when the door had shut behind her, the stillness of the room hit her like a wave. Parvati stood there for a moment, just breathing, trying to process what had just happened. She could still feel the faint brush of Harry’s lips against hers, the lingering sensation that made her question everything.
She lets out a frustrated sigh, now, her breath fogging on the window.
She hasn’t planned for this. She hasn’t expected it, not with everything that’s already so tangled, not with the war they’re currently in the middle of. Nevertheless, Parvati’s mind keeps returning to the fleeting kiss, the way Harry had looked at her– like maybe he hadn’t been sure either, like he had wanted something more, but hadn’t been able to reach it.
It still doesn’t matter though, whatever Ginny says. Nothing came of it. They’d promptly ignored that small moment, going back to being friends, but there had been the tiniest underlying tension between them that Parvati had struggled to live with for a while.
Then, of course, after that encounter, her crush became something more akin to love.
And Parvati isn’t going to tell Ginny that.
“We should get to bed.” She says the words suddenly to stop the dangerous train of thought she’s about to go down, and she gives her friend what she hopes is an encouraging smile. Unfortunately, she’s pretty sure that it looks more tired, if anything. “I feel like I could drop right now.” She tries (and likely just fails) to make her voice light, but Ginny nods all the same. If she’s surprised at the sudden change in subject, she doesn’t show it. In fact, Ginny winces apologetically.
“Sorry,” she says. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s Hufflepuff that’s got the next round of vandalism, so we’ll have it off for a few weeks.” She yawns widely, stretching her hands over her head. "I'm ready to collapse, too. These late nights are going to be the death of me."
Parvati manages a soft laugh, though it feels forced. “The things we do for justice,” she muses, and Ginny nods. She looks like she doesn’t want to move, but she stands, extending a hand for her to take.
“Shall we?” Ginny asks, and Parvati takes it, allowing Ginny to help her to her feet.
Her legs are rather numb from sitting up against the cold window for the past two hours or so, and she wraps her sweater around herself. “You go ahead,” she says. “I’m going to put out the fire, okay?”
Ginny hesitates, giving Parvati a long, searching look, but then she nods. “Alright. Don’t stay up too long,” she says with a small smile, her voice softening. “And Parvati? Thanks for keeping watch. I know– I know it’s a lot. But…”
“But we do what we have to do,” Parvati finishes, voice soft, and Ginny lets out a breathy sounding laugh.
“Right,” she says. “Right.”
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Parvati says, and Ginny hesitates for a moment, her hand lingering on the back of an armchair. She looks like she’s wrestling with herself, and Parvati furrows her brow.
She’s not okay, Parvati thinks unbiddenly, and suddenly she’s overcome with emotion, and she can sense that Ginny is longing for love and connection as much as she is right now. So without a second thought, she takes a step forward and wraps her arms around Ginny in a firm hug. It’s warm and grounding, the kind of embrace that Parvati has lacked sorely in the months since she’s come back to Hogwarts. She rests her chin lightly on Ginny’s shoulder, closing her eyes as she lets herself sink into the quiet comfort of the moment. Ginny hesitates for a moment before giving in, letting herself embrace Parvati back. The two girls stay there for a long time, the crackling of the fire and rain outside the only sounds in the room, and Parvati feels a sense of warmth that feels like it’s been absent for months.
“Thanks,” Ginny says into Parvati’s ear, her voice barely above a whisper.
Parvati takes a shuddering breath, willing herself not to cry. She blinks quickly, her eyes stinging as she fights back the emotion threatening to surface. She nods against Ginny’s shoulder in response to her thanks, not trusting her voice to be steady.
She’s so tired.
She pulls back slightly after several more moments, after she regains a sense of composure, and takes Ginny’s hands in her own, searching her warm brown eyes. “You’re not alone in this,” Parvati says softly. “You know that, right?”
“I–” Ginny begins, but her voice breaks, and she swallows thickly. “I know,” she says, her voice a little shaky.
“It’s going to be okay,” Parvati says, trying to put conviction into her words, and Ginny gives her a small, fragile smile, but Parvati can see the uncertainty lingering in her eyes, the exhaustion written in the lines of her face.
"I know," she says again, this time more resolute, but it’s clear she’s holding on to the words as much as she’s trying to convince herself. She takes a shuddering breath. "I really should go to bed now,” she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow," Ginny’s voice is steadier now. "Thanks, Parvati. For everything."
Parvati nods, smiling softly. "Of course. Sleep well, Ginny."
Ginny hesitates just one last time before turning toward the stairs, hands slipping out of Parvati’s. She glances back once, her expression a mix of gratitude and something more, something unspoken. Then she heads up the stairs, leaving Parvati alone by the fire.
Parvati watches her go, the warmth of the hug lingering like an echo. She lets out a slow breath, turning back to the fire. The flames crackle softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Parvati kneels by the fireplace, her sweater pulled tightly around her shoulders, and picks up the poker again, stirring the glowing embers.
The heat flares against her bare knees, but she’s grateful for the sensation of warmth. It helps distract her from her thoughts, which are now drifting far away, tangled in the past. She murmurs the charm to extinguish the flames, watching as the fire slowly dies, leaving only faintly glowing embers behind. The warmth fades, and with it, the sharp pang in her chest softens just enough to breathe again.
Parvati stands, brushing off the ashes on her hands against her nightdress as she surveys the dimly lit common room. For a moment, she lingers, her eyes drifting toward the window where she and Ginny had sat. She imagines Ginny sitting there like she had been tonight, only with Harry there too, leaning against the cold glass as he looks at her with a look in his eyes that’s entirely for her.
Parvati grits her teeth together and resists the urge to brush her lips with her fingers, the memory of that fleeting kiss surfacing despite her efforts to push it away. It had felt, she supposes, like a tiny rebellion against the chaos of the war around them. It had been a stolen fragment of something they couldn’t afford to pursue. Maybe if she’d had the courage to….
Well, it doesn’t matter now, she reasons, and it never will, really.
Parvati sighs, wrapping her sweater tighter around herself as she turns toward the staircase. She takes slow, deliberate steps, her feet heavy as if each step is pulling her further from the warmth of the fire, from the warmth of that memory.
It’s for the best, she decides as she climbs into bed and pulls the covers over her shoulders.
She’ll wake up tomorrow and move on. Throw herself back into life, into avoiding the Carrows, making sure Lav doesn’t have to walk alone, putting up posters and jinxing the wannabe–Death Eaters in Slytherin.
She’ll move on. She’ll get over it.
All for the best, she tells herself again, and she drifts into an uneasy sleep.