A lone owl swept through the dark corridors of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, its wings casting shadows across the already dimly lit floor.
Padma Patil shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her thin shoulders as it passed her, pausing for a moment to inspect the pet—she hoped nobody had just sent a letter. She had intention of running into another student and starting up any sort of conversation. Although, she mused, anyone out of bed this late probably wouldn't be up for much chat either. The risk of getting caught was too high.
Snapping out of her thoughts, she continued to scurry along, ducking underneath any statues when possible and hoping she was being sneaky enough. With Umbridge gone, things in the school were—sort of—back to normal, but that didn't meant things didn't get worse in the outside world. The second rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was catching on fast, and danger was in every corner.
Finding peace was hard, but Padma was quite adamant to grasp what she could. She'd taken to going on walks, and happened to stumble across a large window that opened perfectly to the sky. For a while, sneaking there during the day had been enough, but as her homework load grew and her sister and friends became ever clingier, she'd had to wait until the night to slink away.
It was just as well; the moon, no matter how big it was, was so pretty from her window's view. She'd often dream of conjuring a ladder, stretching so far into the sky it disappeared from sight. She would climb and climb until her arms were weak and her feet would slip, but she'd go on, because that ladder wouldn't disappear—it would lead right to the moon.
She'd escape You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters and all the slimy, slithering, sneaky Slytherins, like Malfoy, and Goyle, and…
"Crabbe!" she squeaked, coming to a full stop and freezing as she spotted her thick classmate leaning against the edge of her window. He whipped around to face her, his mouth falling open dumbly. His expression betrayed bafflement, as if he couldn't possibly comprehend why Padma would ever look at him, let alone address him.
Finally, after a few moments of staring each other down, Crabbe slammed his mouth shut and clenched his fists. "What're you doin' here?" he demanded slowly. Padma felt her temper flare up immediately and stepped forward, eyes narrowed angrily.
"This is my spot, Vincent Crabbe! And how dare you insinuate I don't belong here!" she spat, jabbing her finger into his chest pointedly; he stumbled back, rubbing at the spot and scowling deeply at her. Padma felt all too smug when she noticed his eyes struggle to comprehend what 'insinuate' might mean—he even mouthed the word.
"Do you have any intelligence, for Gods' sake?" she mocked, flipping her hair pointedly. Crabbe flushed slightly and pointedly backed up towards the window, indicating he wasn't leaving. Huffing slightly, Padma determinedly stepped next to him, crossing her arms. She shivered in the cold but continued to hold her ground—she wasn't going to give this place of peace up, not for anything or anyone.
"I'm not leaving," she sniffed. "So, you can stop this nonsense and scuttle back to the dungeons!" As soon as the words left her mouth, Crabbe sneered and leaned closer, his surprisingly minty breath flying across her face as he huffed stubbornly.
"I've been comin' here since Fourth Year—I'm not leavin' either. Just because you're a Ravenclaw doesn't mean you're better or smarter than me," he said, surprisingly clearly. Padma was very still, at a loss for how to respond. She'd never heard him speak so many words at once.
Padma wondered briefly why she hadn't run into him before during the past few nights, and if he was lying about finding this secluded window two years before her, and then dismissed those thoughts. No matter what she argued, she couldn't force him to leave. She'd just have to stand her ground and hope he'd get annoyed and lumber away from her.
"I don't know who you think you are, you bloody—!" She was cut off by his hand, suddenly clamping down on her mouth with surprising force. She struggled briefly, panic rising in her chest as she thought of all the things he could do to her… She couldn't get to her wand with his body pressed against her pocket like that, and there was no way she could match her strength. Preparing her lungs for a long, loud scream, Padma was startled when Crabbe nudged her side harshly and quirked his head, indicating she should listen.
Blinking and ceasing her struggle, she paused long enough to hear the telltale click of a pair of shoes that signaled either a teacher or Prefect. She stepped away from him; her lips sealed shut, and glanced around desperately. Laying eyes on a rather rotund wardrobe, she flung one door open and stepped inside. She was displeased but unsurprised as Crabbe stepped in next to her. It was a tight fit, and, unfortunately, the wardrobe was longer than it was wider, so they were forced to stand chest to chest.
Pressing a trembling finger to her lips—she really, really didn't want to get caught—Padma squeezed her eyes shut and began to imagine that ladder, and the way the wooden rungs would feel against her palms as she climbed, yearning to reach the safety and solitude that was so, so impossible for her now. Even her spot, the only thing she had drawn comfort from in the last two years, had been corrupted.
As the footsteps drew closer, she swallowed heavily and opened her eyes again to face Crabbe. He was pressed as far back from her as possible, which she silently thanked him for. His face was drawn in concentration and his breaths were quenched, small and pant-like. Still, she managed to get the occasional whiff of mint, and felt herself blush when she realized she quite liked the scent. Crabbe ate like a madman…there was no way his breath should smell that inviting.
Here, hiding in this secret spot with someone who, in all contexts, should be her enemy, Padma felt oddly relieved. She shouldn't have come, shouldn't be standing next to him so demurely. They should be dueling or fighting or hating each other.
She was probably grasping at straws, but a connection was forming as they unconsciously leaned toward each other in the cramped wardrobe.
Years of House Rivalry stood between them, but a war was raging and there were so many emotions coursing through their veins—hatred, worry, anxiety, and, worst of all, fear—god, there was so much fear—so palpable it stuck in the air like honey, thickly eating up whoever it came across.
Padma could feel it emanating from him, and suddenly thought how selfish it was of her to think that only her friends and family were affected, that only the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and Gryffindors could be distressed by the war. The Slytherins were in danger too, and their families could just as likely be victims of terror. Feeling the tears at the back of her eyes, Padma grew desperate. She didn't want this boy to see her cry; she hated showing weakness in front of anyone, much less him.
Throwing away her inhabitations and ignoring all the voices in her head—most of which sounded suspiciously like Parvati—yelling at her stop, Padma threw herself forward and drew him into a kiss. It was sweeter and better than any she'd ever had, a fact which made her want to shout for joy and cry even more at the same time.
All too soon, though, he was drawing back, incredulity settling over the bliss that had temporarily shifted the mood. An awkward silence filled the small wardrobe, finally broken when Crabbe mumbled, "The, err, footsteps… they're gone."
Padma smiled slightly as he blushed, boldly taking his hand and smiling, "I know."
And then, she pulled him in for another kiss.
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Harry Potter.
Written for the FanFiction School of Imagination and Creativity, PDHPE Assessment 1 at HPFC.
The prompts I chose to work with were: Padma/Crabbe, Ladder, 1354 words, Moon, Forbidden Love, Hiding, and Intelligence.