By: Fiona Flamingo
Summary: In the aftermath of the Half-Blood Prince, a strange package arrives for Parvati Patil from an unknown admirer. The stranger, Pocket Mouse strikes an unlikely friendship with Parvati. But the question is…who is Pocket Mouse?
Author's Note: okay, this is completely out of the blue. I didn't even think.! But here another (you must be getting quite bored of them) Parvati fic by me!
The Blue RoseWater gushed out from the pewter flowering can, Parvati Patil was clutching. The water washed over a couple of blooming buds in the corner of the Patil garden. Parvati was a slim, tall girl of sixteen with a mass of jet-black hair and dark almond-shaped eyes. Half-heartedly Parvati tipped over the flowering can. It was hard to believe a mundane thing like gardening could still exist after all what happened.
The magical and muggle world was in a mess. Death eaters were present at every corner, having gained confidence at the strengthening of their leader, Lord Voldemort. Families feared the looming shape of the dark mark materialising above their homes. Even the muggles knew something was wrong. Fear was a shadow that followed everyone.
Parvati was very unhappy. Not only had her parents forbidden her to go back to Hogwarts even if it did reopen, they had forbidden her from leaving the house. It wasn't fair really. Padma had a job, so they consented in letting her going to St.Mungo's to take care of the wounded and sick.
Padma, though, thought that Parvati had the better side of the deal.
"You would faint seeing some of the sights at the Hospital!" she cried angrily after Parvati had told her what she felt. "Today came another little boy—two years old—bitten by the venomous creature Greyback! Two years old! He'd have to live the rest of life as part werewolf!"
Padma had stomped out of the room, crying silently.
Parvati knew her parents wanted to shelter her, but there was a phase in her life when Parvati wanted to help. She wanted to be brave—the Gryffindor she hadn't had the chance to prove herself to be.
But then the package arrived, a slim red gift-wrapped box with no card. It came as a distraction to Parvati's unhappiness and yearning to runaway from her parents' house.
"Parvati!" her mother had called. Parvati had been focusing her energy into sketching a self-portrait at the time. Parvati had never know she was gifted in art. Sure she had been quite a make-up specialist and fashion queen in her Hogwarts days, but…. Oh, look, she was already talking about Hogwarts as if it were a long lost relic from her past when she had only left Hogwarts a month ago.
Art helped her forget (at least for a brief while) about the turmoil and tension spinning their complicated web around her. And to her utmost surprise, she was quite good.
Parvati reached the kitchen, that was once the hubbub of the Patil household, now a lifeless box of ceramic tile. Meera Patil didn't like to cook anymore. Usually Parvati's breakfast, lunch and dinner consisted of tomato soup, her least favourite dish. Her father buried himself in newspapers and read out obituaries of people the Patils once knew. Padma was hardly there. Parvati didn't know how they could stand it. How could they just stay locked up without venturing outside to help, or to get a breath of fresh air. Parvati sometimes wondered if she were going crazy.
"Here you go, sweetie," Meera said tiredly, handing Parvati a long package that seemed very tattered and touched by many fingers. Parvati tentatively took it.
"It's all right, beta. I checked for hexes and curses." Her father murmured behind the paper.
Parvati gripped it, curiosity seeping into her veins. What was it? She itched to lift open the cardboard covering, but something stopped her from doing it in front of her parents.
"Minevra McGonagall is dead," Parvati's father suddenly announced. Parvati froze. A wave of sadness washed over her. Sure, McGonagall wasn't one of her favourite professors, but Parvati had known her six years. Hogwarts wouldn't seem the same without her. Hey, there wasn't going to be an Hogwarts after all.
"How did she die?" Parvati managed.
Meera placed a warm hand on her daughter's shoulder. Her husband gazed up and began reading.
"McGonagall, age 58 was attacked by death eater in front of Adelaide and Fine."
Parvati remembered Lavender and her trying to guess Professor McGonagall age years ago. Now they finally knew.
Parvati suddenly wondered what had happened to her best friend, Lavender Brown. The last year with dusty memories of Ronald Weasly and confusion was a straining year for the friends, but Parvati had completely lost touch with Lav after the bitter goodbye last month.
Suddenly remembering the package in her hand, Parvati excused herself from the kitchen and dashed up stairs.
As she went upstairs, she heard her mother mutter sadly, "she's just upset. Her old teacher, you know."
Once in the safety of her room, Parvati hesitantly lifted the cardboard lid. What she saw stunned her slightly. It was a long stemmed rose, resting on the soft satin interior of the box.
But it wasn't a red, or white, or even a yellow rose.
It was blue.
The colour of the sky painted upon the soft petals of the rose. Parvati immediately searched desperately for a card. Who'd sent it? Parvati's immediate guess was Lavender. Did she want to make amends for her harsh behaviour last month? Parvati examined the writing on the front of the cardboard cover. It was a neat, rounded type with crisp, clear lettering. Certainly not Lavender's.
Parvati hunted for any sign of a clue in the box, but none appeared. She knew blue roses were rare things, so she carefully soaked the stem in water and placed it in a vase on her windowsill.
Maybe she'd plant it in her corner of the garden. Maybe, but she was itching to find out who had sent her the rose. Nobody sent her anything nowadays.
Parvati remained in her room for awhile, pondering upon this strange package. She couldn't keep her eyes off the rose, and she couldn't keep her mind off the mysterious person who had sent it.
A week later, a note arrived.
Dear Parvati.
How are you? You must be wondering who I am, but I'm afraid I have to keep my identity a secret. I hope you understand and liked the blue rose, or the Elatrommi rose. It was very difficult to find it, but from Hogwarts I always remember you had a particular fondness for roses, Miss Patil. Please write to me, Parvati. I'll admit I've had a soft spot for you for a quite awhile. You can call me Pocket mouse.
Of course, I'll understand if you don't write. It's your choice.
From,
Pocket Mouse
Eagerly, Parvati wrote back:
Dear…Pocket Mouse?
Yes! I'm dying to know who you are. I don't feel comfortable writing to a complete stranger, but I find you solacing somehow. I love the rose. I'm going to plant it in my garden.
You went to Hogwarts? Were you in Gryffindor? My year? I'm flattered that you liked me. I always thought no one did…and found myself chasing boys quite a bit in Hogwarts.
By the way, why do you want to be called Pocket Mouse?
Did you hear about Professor McGonagall? If you went to Hogwarts, you must have been taught by her.
I'm a prisoner in my home. I don't know whether I should escape. I want to, but I'm afraid. Of death eaters, of You-know-who, but more importantly my parents who wouldn't be able to cope if they found me dead in some alley. I always knew I should have ended up in Hufflepuff.
See I've already written quite a bit. I must be boring you to bits, but I have no one else to talk to.
Pocket Mouse, you don't mind, do you?
Yours,
Parvati
In the beginning, the correspondence was another thing for Parvati to do. She looked forward to Pocket Mouse's letters with uncertainty.
Indeed, Pocket did reply almost immediately, but the muggle way. It was slower, but more private than owl post now.
Dear Parvati,
I'm not a complete stranger.
I call myself Pocket Mouse for no reason. It's just a silly name.
But I'm sorry I can't tell you anything about myself. I promised myself when I first began corresponding. Please still continue responding through owl post. I will not give a reply address.
Parvati, you are not going to die. You belong in Gryffindor. You always have. You're brave, but you don't know it. Don't give up on yourself. You maybe restrained now, but no one can restrain you forever. I was very sad to hear about Professor McGonagall. What is happening to our world? You-know-who is turning it into fearful, scary place. Fear is the biggest killer.
Don't runaway now, but when things begin to get better, do what you want to do. What your heart is telling you to. Things will improve, Harry Potter is going to fight him, and our side will win.
Pocket Mouse
Ps: Of course, I don't mind talking to you. I crushed on you, for Merlin-sakes!
Parvati smiled. Her portrait lay forgotten in the corner of her room. Her mother continued to call her to the kitchen. Parvati tuned out and quickly wrote back a reply, still smiling.
Dear Pocket,
So, you still don't have a crush on me? See, I have no luck with boys. Hey, you're a boy aren't you? Or a man…whatever. I don't care whoever you are, even when we're discussing morbid matters, you still make me feel…light…like a glass of wine. Does that make sense?
Thanks about what you said. Sometimes I wonder how you know me so well, and I don't even know your name. You're not a stalker, are you? My parents would kill me if they knew. They think I'm writing to Lavender.
About the war…it's terrible. Sometimes I'm glad I'm not Harry Potter, but I'm going to help somehow. Padma is; she's a nurse and I'm nothing. Ok, I know you're going to say I'm something, but hey, you used to fancy me! Do you fancy me?
I keep on chanting what you said in my mind. Our side will win. I ONLY HOPE THAT WILL BE TRUE.
Love,
Parvati
Ps: Do you still fancy me?
Parvati had to wait a long week before another blessed letter arrived from Pocket Mouse. She nearly screamed in happiness. Meera glanced at her strangely.
"Well, I'm glad Lavender is making you more cheery."
Parvati immediately felt guilty, but she pushed the guilt down her throat, as she tore open Pocket's letter.
Dear Vati,
I'm amused. Does it really matter that I still fancy you? You asked me three times! I'm glad I'm like a glass of wine. Better than skele-gro., eh?
YOU ARE SOMETHING. Stop self-doubting, Patil. Gets on a mouse's last nerve. Just joking.
You do know me, Parvati. Think! Think!
Don't worry, I'm not a stalker. Well, maybe a little. I did find your address and send you Elatrommi rose. Just joking.
I'm going to do something to help too. Actually my brother says I have a chance to join Harry's crew. Well, that's another matter.
Lavender. Your very best friend. She is going to marry Oliver Wood, you know. I still think it's much to early, but she's adamant. You didn't know? I'm surprised.
Well, do me a favour…write to her. She misses you very much.
Keep up with other things too, Vati.
Love,
Pocket.
Parvati clutched the letter to her chest. He had called her Vati!
Dear Pock,
You never answered my question, but ah well. Joking a lot are you? You must be in a good mood. I'm glad that you can join Harry's crew. Wish I could. No, I will re-phrase that. I have to, don't wish it. I can't believe Lavender!
OLIVER? I wasn't aware they even knew each other. This is a shock. I have to write to her, grudges forgotten. I miss very much too, actually.
Pock, I am thinking, but there is a limit to how much you can think!
Write back soon.
Please.
Love,
Vati
Things started to slip Parvati's mind. She was clumsy. She was loopy.
"You're in love," Meera declared suspiciously, as Parvati waltzed into the kitchen with a very goofy smile playing on her lips. She didn't wonder who Pocket Mouse. Well, maybe a little, but she knew whoever he was, he was her wizard with a shining light.
"I'm not…!" Parvati answered dreamily. Meera raised her eyebrow.
"It's not Lavender, is it?" Parvati jerked back to attention. She had written to Lavender, voicing her thoughts, but she hadn't got a reply yet.
"No, mum," Parvati groaned.
Other than that, things hardly changed in the Patil household. Padma would come back in the nights with scary stories from St. Mungo's. Parvati's father, though, had been called to join the Good Side and he had consented. Meera was very upset, but she wanted to help too, so she signed up to be a Midi-witch. Parvati was the only one who was at home the whole time. She eagerly waited for Pock's letters.
Dear Vati,
I met with Harry Potter a couple of days ago. I'm on the team! I am afraid, but a little fear is always good isn't it? Lavender got your letter, but she can't reply. We're very busy right now. We're in the midst of a very import mission; Lavender is on the team too.
I myself, am stealing bits of parchment to write to you. We are not allowed to use magic for simple things, we're reserving our energy for the Battle of the Death Eaters or other forces. She is getting married to Oliver, in our cave, next week. She is most distraught. She wanted a proper wedding. She met Oliver on the team and she says they are very much in love.
Other than that, nothing much. I'm meeting with a lot of Hogwarts people. Saw Ron Weasly and Hermione Granger. Do you know they're together now? That just proves that some good things can happen in the midst of war.
Hope you're doing well.
Love,
Pock
Dear Pock,
No! I didn't know! I don't know about anything these days. I am going to escape. I'm going to run away. My father has left to fight. Now I am going to too. My mother is Midi-witch and so is my sister. What about me? I'm going to meet you Pock. You've made the last few weeks of my life and like something out of a story. Everyone is getting together. Feelings are in the open because everyone is scared that the war will take away their loved one. What about us? My mother says I'm in love. I don't know. I've never really been in love.
I want to meet you. Just tell me where you are.
Parvati withdrew her pen from the paper, her hand trembling. There she had written down her true feelings. Now all she had to do was wait.
And wait.
And keep waiting.
Until she couldn't wait any longer.
Dear Parvati,
I can't tell disclose any information. I would betray Harry and the others. Vati, you can't leave your home. Even purebloods are in danger. Death eaters are hungry for young girls—I don't want you getting hurt. Please…stay… for me. I know I told you to brave, many letters ago, but the situation is very bad. Just look out the window and you'll just see fog for miles around. Fog. That's what it is. Dementors, foul creatures, death eaters, giants that's what is out there.
Hmm…so your mother thinks you're in love. Parvati, we can't discuss this. It's not going to happen. I've always liked you, but we're not Lavender and Oliver or Ron and Hermione. We are not ready. You can't meet me Parvati. I'm sorry. Not right now. A time will come when we'll see each other in the crowded streets and recognise each other. Think, Parvati. I just wish you'd think who I am.
Please, don't write anymore. Any important battle is coming up. The letter could end up in the wrong hands.
Love,
Pocket Mouse
Parvati spilt tears over that letter. So Pock didn't want her. She had opened herself like she never done before and this was what she got. She was ready. She was ready to meet Pock. Why didn't he understand that?
The world seemed the dreary place that Parvati didn't like. Just like Pock had described. Parvati longed to write to him, but something stopped her. Not only his words, but her resolve. She didn't know what she would write, anyway.
The house seemed so lonely without the presence of Pock's letters. Parvati wept a few fair times. She wondered again who Pock was. She wondered what happened to him.
That night Padma came home, looking more wretched than ever. Parvati had begun focusing on drawing again. She had nothing else to do. She sketched the slim stem of the blue rose Pock had given her so many months ago. It was beautiful; her best picture yet.
Padma sank onto the couch, watching the flicker flames before her sadly.
"Mum is still working."
"How come you're home, then?" Parvati questioned, placing her sketch book beside her.
Padma looked very tired, the bags under eyes seemed more prominent than ever. "I was slightly upset, but you might be even more upset."
Parvati gazed at sister questioningly.
"I saw Dean Thomas today. He was attacked by Bellatrix Lestrange," Padma's voice shook a bit.
Parvati's voice was caught in throat. Dean was in her house, Gryffindor. He had been a classmate.
"What happened to him?" she inquired worriedly.
"He was too injured. It was too late to do anything. He died five minutes after being brought to St. Mungo's."
A tear trickled down Parvati's cheek. She quickly blinked it away.
"He only told me one thing," Padma began, an odd expression in her eyes. She pulled out a torn piece of parchment from her robe pocket. "To give this to you,"
Parvati, her heart beat rapidly against her chest. She couldn't think; she grabbed the slip of paper from Padma.
She slowly opened it.
Dear Parvati,
I should have told you earlier. I love you. Do what you have to do. I love you, Parvati.
Yours eternally,
Pocket Mouse
The paper slipped from her hands. Pocket Mouse! Shock pulsated through her mind. She remained frozen in time for that moment. Then her heart gave a painful twitch. Pocket Mouse was dead.
He was the only one who had loved her and he was dead. A torrent of tears gushed down Parvati's face. She felt more fragile than the blue rose.
Padma put her arm around her. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew it was important. Parvati couldn't stop crying. Her Pocket Mouse, he had died. So cruelly in the battle. Parvati wanted nothing more than to reply to this letter. To tell him that she loved him back. Loved him by herself, without her mother pointing it out.
"Dean!" Parvati gasped, for the first time calling Pocket Mouse by his real name.
Dean Thomas and she could have been something. Yet they never saw each other. At least she hadn't seen him properly. She hadn't thought.
Think! Think! She could hear Dean's soft voice echoing in her mind. She gave a dry sob. "I can't believe you're dead, Dean…" she whispered to Padma. Padma squeezed her shoulder.
"It's going to be ok," Padma consoled, her voice quivering.
No, it wasn't ok. Parvati had to do what she wanted to do. She was going to fight. For Pocket Mouse…for Dean.
-The End-
Author's note: sniff. My first tragedy, especially Parvati/Dean. I finished it all in an hour, so it was a very fast sort of thing. Yikes, my fingers hurt from typing for so long. So, was it the tear-jerker, I hoped, or was it just sad. Sad as in pathetic. Let me know. Please review!