Love Letters to You

Parvati Patil, fellow Gryffindor, cannot help but stare at her best friend in pure judgment. Lavender, because that is her name, falters at her stare, the hairbrush strokes faltering beneath Parvati's piercing eyes. 

"What?" she asks as if she sees nothing wrong with what she just suggested. 

Parvati shakes her head. "You are crazy." She picks up the newest perfume that Lavender had ordered from Weekly Witchly like one might pick up a Niffler while wearing heirloom rings, shaking it slightly for further emphasis. "That's it. I'm throwing this away. The perfume clearly is too strong, and it turned your head upside down."

Lavender huffs, putting her hairbrush down. She then tugs at Parvati's arms, a pout on her lips that Parvati thinks most boys would have trouble saying no to. 

But she is no boy. 

"Oh, come now!" Lavender protests. "It will be fun."

Maybe for Lavender perhaps who will find in Parvati's plight a funny, youthful memory in their later days. But not for Parvati. She tells her so. 

"Fun?" Parvati asks incredulously, brown eyes furrowed. Her words are disbelieving at her friend, who though nowhere near Hermione Granger's caliber, is no Goyle. "For who exactly? Because it certainly won't be fun for me."

"Harry isn't that bad. He's quite handsome, in fact." 

"Oh, I know. I noticed." 

Parvati thinks that everyone has noticed. It would be hard not to with Harry growing in his features lately and his Quidditch uniform teasing his athletic frame. 

"Then, why are you refusing to be his date?"

Parvati pinches the bridge of her nose. 

Is Lavender serious? 

By her stubborn eyes and crossed arms on her chest, she is. Though it does not stop the pureblood witch to stare blankly at the brunette, trying to convey through lidded eyes how much she is questioning her sanity. 

"Because I don't want to die ?"

It wouldn't be an easy death too. 

"You're not going to die," Lavender swats her arm. Parvati quirks an elegant, well-groomed eyebrow in challenge. 

"Oh, because you think that Black's just going to stand there while Potter has someone else as a date?"

Parvati, as a Patil, pureblood and noble, knows of Elara Black's history that comes with a bloodline plagued by madness. 

She has heard whispers of her rule.

She does not want to put herself in front of the Black heiress as a walking target, thank you very much. 

"Black already has a date." 

Parvati blinks. What? "Who?" she asks. She hadn't heard of it! Why did Lavender not keep her up to date with the latest gossip? 

"She's going with Zabini." 

And not Harry?

Though it makes sense for the Zabini heir to escort Black. He usually is at her side during balls and events when her cousin cannot escort her. 

Oh, dear. 

"Is that why Harry is cursing against Italians for a while now?" she asks. 

Lavender giggles. "Yeah, Cecilia doesn’t know if she should feel insulted or proud."

Parvati nods in thought. "It's still surprising that Black would choose Zabini over Harry." Merlin knows how obvious her love for Gryffindor's seeker is and the Yule ball would have been a great opportunity for the witch to make a move. "Damn, there goes my bet."

Lavender sighs. "I mean, it is Blaize Zabini we're talking about." 

"Fair enough." 

Well, Parvati supposes it isn't too late to approach the Weasley twins to change her bet. Perhaps she should put it at their graduation? 

Hm, that would be too late and Parvati does not think that Black would be able to wait so many years, nor Harry, in fact. The boy who lived has already tried to scare away more than two of Black's suitors, and always lingers around her, more so than usual, as if trying to make up the courage for something. 

And jealousy does make one more daring in his move to woo, no?

Perhaps...

"Say, Lavender, for when did you place your bet?"

Her friend gives her a mischievous smirk, bright in her laughter. 

"Around the week after the Yule Ball?"

Oh.

"You're going to use me to make Black jealous, aren't you?" Parvati asks, a hand to her hip, half laughing, half indignant. 

Lavender averts her eyes, twirling a hair lock as if it would make her look more innocent. "Not at all." 

Parvati gives a pointed snort, the likes Parkinson likes to use. "Well, I will ultimately win the bet, but I suppose I can sacrifice the cause." 

Lavender bursts out laughing. "Yeah," she flips her hair on the side. "And we'll all be grateful for your sacrifice. 

Parvati knows not if she should take it as an insult that her date only blinks in shock as he watches her descend the stairs. Oh, sure, it was flattering at first, do not get her wrong. 

But Parvati cannot help but feel it is a bit tame compared to the utter shock and awe Harry demonstrates as Elara Black glides into the room, escorted by Blaise Zabini, who, quite frankly, looks like Apollo reborn. 

The Gryffindor giggles as she gently closes Harry's jaw that hangs opened as he seems to lose all senses. "Close that mouth, Potter, before Black sees you."

Harry clears his throat, ears pink. "I don't know what you mean."

Her answering nod is indulgent, pitying at best. "Oh, I am sure."

"Do you want to dance?" he asks, etiquette that Black has probably introduced him to ringing true. Parvati smiles, a coquette curve of the lips with a heavy glance through upper eyelashes that would make most boys blush, yet Harry remains the perfect gentleman. Ah, Black is truly a lucky witch to have such a wizard so thoroughly simping, sorry, devoted to her. 

"Sure, just make sure that your girlfriend doesn't kill me," she accepts, slipping her hand into Harry's, the other settling on his shoulder. Music starts and years of etiquette carry her feet elegantly on the dance floor as Harry stumbles after her like a little fawn.

Harry blinks. "I don't have a girlfriend-."

"-Yet," Parvati finishes out of the goodness of her heart. 

"But who?" 

Parvati almost falters in her dance. As the music picks up, she twirls away, swishing her skirts before coming back into Harry's arms. She feels Black's eyes, burning and unwavering, on her back. 

"Black."

Harry chuckles. The stare gets hotter. "She's just a friend," he tries to explain to her as if it would, by some miracle, convince her. 

"Just a friend?" Parvati repeats, disbelief thick in her voice. "Tell me, Potter," Harry frowns at her use of his last name, but Parvati could not care less of that. She has a bet to think of for Merlin's sake. "Do you usually carry your friend's bags to class?"

He opens his mouth, probably to speak and bury his head further in his own denial, but Parvati is unrelentless. "Do friends usually meet up every Wednesday to practice spells together and then go eat in the kitchen?"

Her date frowns. "How do you even know about that?"

Oh. 

Poor, poor naive Potter.

The whole school knows about that. 

"Never mind that," Parvati brushes him off. "Tell me, if I said that Black is an overrated witch, you'd have to agree, right? I mean, her eyes aren't as big of a deal as what blokes usually say. They're terribly dull and -"

"Her eyes are beautiful. They're like stars. I didn't know you were blind, Parvati." Harry interrupts, a puzzled look on his aristocratic features that would make Parvati gush if it wasn't for Black's constant look that is still piercing at her back. Perhaps, the Patil twin should have thought to invest in some shielding material for her Yule dress. "And what blokes?"

Honestly. 

"It doesn't matter-"

"I wouldn't say that, I'd like to talk to them. Have a few words if you would."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry-!"