Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Note: Companion piece to 'Clear As Crystal'.
Parvati and Padma are good Indian girls.
They wear the right clothes, they speak to their elders deferentially, they do not speak unless spoken to.
They know their Indian mythology perfectly, and tell the captivating stories flawlessly, completing each other's sentences with the same voice. In short, they are the perfect daughters.
But they don't believe in them.
The stories are pretty and interesting and exciting – but they are stories. They were never what Mr. and Mrs. Patil intended them to be. Padma is too intelligent for that – and as she shares her most beloved books with Parvati, so she shares her ideas.
Padma and Parvati sit on Parvati's bed, backs to the wooden headboard, legs neatly crossed, fluffy duvet tucked round them. Parvati turns her head and looks at her sister. She is illuminated by the street light a few yards away from the window and her golden earrings catch the light. Her whispers are rapid as her voice and hands paint a world only they can see.
They decide to split up on the train – they might be twins, but they have to grow up sometime, because it's silly to always want to be together, and they'll probably be in different Houses anyway, since Padma wants Ravenclaw, and Parvati wants Gryffindor, so they might as well get used to it.
Parvati finds an empty compartment, sits, and tips her head back. She's never been without her sister before, but she knows that without what Padma cynically calls "hopelessly misguided parental authority" getting in the way, she can think properly now.
She owes that to Padma, of course, and the talking they did late into the night a life ago.
Mr. and Mrs. Patil are under the impression that Parvati and Padma are obedient, docile, respectful girls. Until seventh year comes along.
They are horrified to learn that Parvati and Padma are not good Indian girls.