Homecoming
Hairbrushes were Parvati’s favorite things to ask of the Room of Requirement.
When Ginny dragged Padma into their hideout, she had that faraway look that was becoming too common a sight these days. Her clothes were completely disheveled, skirt rumpled and the buttons of her blouse neither complete nor correct. The tie in her hair had snapped, and she looked as if she had just gone out of bed.
Amycus Carrow, Ginny growled, and for a moment, a red haze descended upon Parvati’s gaze. An image of that pig swaying in a noose suddenly flashed in her head, and it was all she could do to squash it (she wanted to be the one to braid the rope, wanted to leash him, choke him, watch him flail until he hung limp, cold and dead).
Instead, she turned to her sister and settled her down on the couch, careful to keep her hands slack in case she accidentally crushed her from the weight of her anger. It did not matter. Not once did Padma look at her. Parvati wished for a hairbrush instead. She took out the bobby pins brushed and brushed and brushed until it was silky smooth. And when that was done, wove them in the waterfall braid Padma loved so much but never wanted to do by herself - the one thing she refused to learn, Parvati used to tease her.
All the while, she sang her sister’s favorite lullabye - the one their mother sang to them when Padma had a nightmare. “It soothes her and you go to sleep to escape, so everyone wins, love,” mum used to say.
She did not remember all the words, so she mumbled her own instead. And when she forgot the tune, made that one up as well.
“That’s not how the song goes,” Padma rasped out.
Parvati nearly sobbed, but she kept braiding her hair anyway. “I could never remember the lyrics.”
“Nor the tune apparently. What was that?” She grumbled with a chuckle, and Parvati let her tears flow.
“Well then, you sing it,” she choked.
And with a weary sigh, Padma did, softly at first with her still crackling voice… and then stronger.
Slowly, the words came back to her, and when Parvati was finally sure, she whispered out too, “Banke poonam mere, mere angan mein aaja”.
Become the moon that comes into the compound.