Hoping

Finally, Michael began to stir. It was almost beautiful—the way his eyelids dreamily fluttered open, his dark hair splayed out on the pillow. For a brief moment, his eyes darted around the room, taking in his surroundings. He was clearly confused. Suddenly he sat bolt upright, clutching the duvet to his chest, perhaps finally realising that he was still naked.

I could see the nervous flicker in his eyes as he struggled to make sense of what had happened and where he was. Finally, his eyes crossed my path and his gaze fell on me softly, a deep questioning look swimming amongst the deep brown of his irises.

"Padma?" he croaked out, his brow furrowed deeply as he finally noticed me perched on the windowsill, fully dressed.

"About time," I bitterly replied, all traces of the gentleness I used to speak with him last night, gone. "I've been up for hours." It wasn't exactly true. I could have only been up for about twenty minutes, half an hour at most, but I wanted him to feel guilty. I wanted him to suffer. It had certainly felt like hours.

"I..." Michael faltered, and it gave me a great sense of satisfaction to see him squirming, desperately searching for the right words to say.

He looked so uncomfortably confused, almost as though I could hear the hundreds of questions that must have been swirling around in his mind. I waited patiently, though I was eager to hear what his first question would be. After all, it was only me who held all the answers.

"I'm naked," he said in a strangled voice. Not a question at all.

I rolled my eyes. "Your clothes are in the bathroom," I informed him in a bored voice.

I watched from the windowsill as his eyes flickered towards the bedroom door. He seemed to be considering walking out and getting dressed, but with another quick glance at me, he appeared to think better of it and instead stayed put. He continued to glance around the room, perhaps not quite remembering where he was or how he'd come to be there. I couldn't help but smirk at his ignorance.

His eyes lingered on the two empty bottles of Firewhisky that littered the floor by his bedside. He screwed his eyebrows up, concentrating greatly, but apparently not getting the answers he sought from combing back through his memory.

And finally, he looked back at me, the hundreds of questions swimming in his eyes. I wondered how I must look, sitting on that windowsill. Was the morning sunlight streaming down through the window in such a way that it emphasised my flawless, coffee-coloured skin, and made my dark hair gleam beautifully? Or did I merely appear as plain and boring as any other girl? His eyes gave away nothing.

"What happened last night?" Michael finally asked, though I could see the terror in his eyes.

I had so much power. I could easily string him along and make up any old story. He'd never know the truth. But the truth was what I wanted him to remember, so I vowed in my mind to tell him everything, exactly as it had happened. Michael was smart. He'd figure out the truth eventually anyway. It was a talent we Ravenclaws were blessed with—the ability to seek out the truth.

"You're in my bedroom," I told him sweetly, quite aware that it didn't answer the question he'd asked. "In my apartment in London. In my bed, in fact."

He clutched the duvet to him closer, nervously surveying the queen-sized bed he was currently huddled in. "And how—how did I get here?" he stuttered.

I slid down from the windowsill, hoping that the sunlight really was streaming down behind me, making me appear as beautiful and desirable as I'd been to him last night. I walked towards him slowly, praying I was radiating as much confidence and elegance as I hoped I was. I never broke eye contact with him, and it delighted me to see how nervous and out of his depth he was.

"What happened last night?" Michael asked again, after realising I wasn't going to answer his previous question. Not just yet anyway. I still wanted to have my fun whilst he was completely vulnerable and completely at my mercy.

"Would you like me to show you?" I whispered seductively, stopping as I reached the edge of the bed.

His expression suggested he was pondering what I'd said, what I'd perhaps offered him. I could've sworn I saw him gulp. Before I left it long enough for him to reply, I crawled across the bed until I was towering over him and his eyes were locked firmly on mine. I thrusted my lips upon his, exactly the same way I had done last night, passionately clawing my hands through his tangled black hair. But whereas last night he'd responded with equal passion, matching my own, he lay there as though merely a lifeless body.

Frustrated with his feeble response, I dragged my lips from his, letting out a cry of irritation and storming across the room, leaving him stranded in the bed. "Don't you remember anything, Michael?" I demanded. "Don't you remember that?" I indicated to the bed where he lay, where I'd just kissed him as passionately as I possibly could.

I'd thought the kiss would have stirred memories of last night. I longed to hear the words he'd said to me before—when he'd told me I was beautiful and special, and so much better than my sister, in every way. I needed to know that it was true, that it wasn't just words. Words he'd merely said in a drunken daze as an attempt to get what he wanted. Yet he looked more clueless than ever

"We kissed?" Michael asked innocently, his pitch far higher than usual.

I rolled my eyes again, exhausted with how little he could remember. "We did far more than kiss," I informed him angrily. "For Merlin's sake, you're naked, Michael, what do you honestly think happened?" I hissed at him.

His eyes widened in horror—in realisation. Once again he seemed to clutch the duvet to himself tighter. "Padma," he said apologetically, "I can't even begin to say how truly sorry I am—"

"Sorry? SORRY?" I yelled at him. "You're sorry about what happened? You regret it?" There was no use trying to mask the pain I felt. The hurt. The betrayal.

"We were drunk," Michael said helplessly, glancing towards the Firewhisky bottles as though to check they were actually there and he hadn't imagined them earlier.

"No," I corrected him bitterly, "you were drunk."

"I'm sorry, Padma." He didn't seem to understand that I didn't what him to be sorry. I didn't want him to regret anything that had happened. "I didn't mean to take advantage of you." If only he knew that it was I who had taken advantage of him.

I tried a different approach, casting all anger from my body. I perched on the edge of the bed. "Don't you remember anything?" I asked pleadingly.

He began to shake his head.

I took a deep breath, trying to remain as calm as possible as I relayed the events of last night. "We were at a party, here in London. You got a bit drunk and we talked and I… I invited you back to my place." I hesitated, wondering if I dare say it. "You told me I was beautiful," I practically whispered to him. "You told me I was intelligent; you told me I was fun; you told me I was the most perfect girl you'd ever met."

It took all my strength not to burst into tears. I so badly wanted him to remember. I so badly wanted it not to have been the Firewhisky talking, but to have been words straight from his heart. Oh, how I wished I had a Pensieve with me...

"I remember," Michael announced all of a sudden.

"You do?" I asked eagerly, my heart pounding.

He nodded. "We were at Parvati's engagement party."

The mention of my sister's name immediately made the rage bubble up inside me. I struggled not to let it out. Oh, how I loathed my sister—my brilliantly perfect twin sister. It hadn't always been like this. We'd been ever so close all throughout our time at Hogwarts, despite the fact that we'd been in separate houses. But ever since we'd left and headed our separate ways, I just knew that it was her who my parents favoured.

Generations of our family had all been in Ravenclaw, yet Parvati had been placed in Gryffindor, and our parents couldn't have been more delighted. It didn't matter that I'd always excelled at school, always achieving top of my class. It didn't matter that I'd been a prefect or that I'd achieved nearly all O's in my OWLs and NEWTs. It didn't even matter that I'd fought just as valiantly and bravely as Parvati had during the Battle of Hogwarts, or that I'd gone on to become a Healer at St. Mungo's whereas she'd pursued a much less honourable career at the Ministry. No, the only thing that mattered was Parvati and the fact that she was now engaged to none other than Seamus Finnigan.

"You... said some things," Michael continued, snapping me out of my daze.

I'd said far more than 'some things.' I'd poured my heart out to him—all my problems and emotions towards Parvati and my parents, and how unworthy I always felt when compared to her, despite the fact that I'd achieved so much more.

"And I... said some things," he said, blushing deeply, everything that had happened finally dawning on him.

I simply nodded. "We did a lot of talking," I told him miserably. "And then... a bit more."

Michael looked out the window, embarrassed, perhaps only just remembering, once again, that he was still naked. And then he did something surprising, something completely unexpected. He laughed. "Didn't we have fun, though?" he asked me with a grin that spread from ear to ear.

I initially felt offended. I'd revealed my innermost thoughts to him and bared my soul until I was as vulnerable as I could possibly be. Yet all he could think of was how fun it had been? But despite myself, I laughed too. I couldn't help myself. I supposed it was all rather silly, after all. What had I honestly expected?

But Michael stopped abruptly, overwhelmed by a sudden seriousness. "I remember it all, Padma," he told me quietly. "At least, I think I do." I didn't understand what he was getting at. "I remember every word I said to you," he said softly, looking me deep in the eyes. I couldn't remember when my heartbeat had quickened, but it was certainly racing within my chest. "And—" he began anxiously.

"Yes?" I urged him, though I honestly wasn't sure where he was going with this. All I knew was that his eyes—those deep, brown, enchanting eyes—were looking into mine so wondrously, and so captivatingly, that I couldn't help but think he was trying to convey some kind of meaningful message with them.

Michael said three words. The three most important words I'd ever heard in my life. Three words that meant more to me than any three words that had been uttered to me before. Three words that changed everything.

"I meant them."

Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 1—Round 4

Team: Wigtown Wanderers
Position: Beater 1
Additional Prompts: Bed and dialogue: "Didn't we have fun, though?"
Pairing: Padma/Michael