DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.
Quidditch Pitch: Anthony Goldstein (character)
Drabble Club: flowers (word)
If You Dare Challenge: 179. White
Emotion Challenge: Hope
200 Characters in 200 Days: Padma Patil
Greek Mythology Competition: Aphrodite: Write a romance fic.
Percy Jackson Character Challenge: Annabeth Chase: Write about a Ravenclaw.
Challenge Your Versatility: Romance/Fluff
AN: This was written for Amber (Cheeky Slytherin Lass). First attempt at writing Anthony/Padma, so hope you like it!
Beta'd by Mags and Tiggs
It started with a simple, yellow rose.
Friendship.
Padma slumped down on the couch, setting her books down with a sigh. The day had been long and tiring, and all she wanted was some sleep.
She cast a glance towards the pile of homework, letting out a groan. Yes, to condemn homework was against the typical idea of a Ravenclaw, but Padma didn't care.
She picked up her quill and pulled out a piece of parchment, preparing to start on her ridiculously long Potions essay. She put the tip to the parchment, biting her lip in thought, but she couldn't think of anything. It seemed like every thing she had learned in today's lesson had escaped her mind.
"Just a small nap," she promised herself, setting the quill aside. She pulled a blue pillow towards her. Padma laid back and closed her eyes.
She had that feeling that someone was watching her, but she ignored it in the favour of much needed sleep, of course.
Just a small nap…
Anthony watched her, his lips quirking up in a small smile when she let out a yawn and closed her eyes.
He had had a crush on the shy Ravenclaw since third year, when she had stood up to Marcus Flint. But how to tell Padma he liked her was what he didn't know.
He turned away, pulling his gaze away from Padma's sleeping figure.
"Oi! Anthony! Come to the library with me?" Terry called from across the common room.
"Sure." He stuffed his books into his bag and walked over to Terry, trying his best not to stare at Padma.
They chatted along the way, but Anthony's mind was on Padma the whole time.
"Mate, are you even listening to me?" Terry asked, snapping his fingers in front of Anthony's face.
"Sorry. Got things on my mind."
Terry smirked, letting out a chuckle. "Girl problems?" He fluttered his eyelashes mockingly.
"Oh, shut up," Anthony said, cracking a smile. His mind wandered to Padma yet again.
"Whatever." Terry pushed the doors to the library open loudly, earning a glare from Madam Pince. Terry only winked, offering her a charming smile. He strode to a table in the far corner and set down his books.
"Want to work on Herbology first?" Anthony asked, pulling out a piece of parchment.
"Why not?" Terry said, waving a hand dramatically. "We must do what Lord Anthony suggests."
"Stuff it," Anthony shot back.
"You know you love my drama." Terry gave him a suggestive wink before bursting into laughter.
"Seriously, come on. I want to get this done with." Anthony flipped open his Herbology book, scanning over it with bored eyes.
"Whatever you say." Terry leaned back in his chair, flicking through the pages languidly.
They exchanged words absentmindedly as they worked on their essays. Anthony's mind constantly wandered to Padma, making it very difficult to concentrate.
Finally, after what seemed to be forever, Anthony put down his quill.
"Done." He let out a sigh of relief. He glanced at Terry, only to find that he was sleeping. Anthony chuckled as he got up.
He ran his fingers over the books, stopping when he found a book on flowers.
Flowers.
Maybe that would be a good way to confess his love.
But it would have to be perfect.
Padma woke up, stretching her arms. She sat up, leaning back as her gaze strayed to her homework.
She jumped when she found a yellow rose lying beside her homework, a small note attached to it.
She reached forward and examined it, her heart fluttering as she wondered who had left it here. The petals glimmered with dew; it was freshly picked.
It was perfect.
Padma remembered from one of Parvati's rambling that a yellow rose meant friendship.
Who wanted to be friends with her?
Finally, she read the note.
It was signed with two, elegantly written letters: A. G.
Anthony Goldstein.
Next came a crimson amaryllis.
Beauty.
Padma blushed as her finger stopped at the flower's name, trailing across the words scattered beside it.
She had confronted Anthony the next day, holding the rose in her shaking fingers.
"Umm… did you…" Padma trailed off, turning red.
Anthony's cheeks were dusted a soft pink. "Oh."
"Was it… was it you?" she asked, stepping closer.
"Err… yes." He turned away and took a deep breath.
"You want to be… friends?" She fixed her eyes on him, and he turned around.
Anthony reached out with hesitant hands and took Padma's hands in his own. "Yes." His gaze was so intense, so… longing.
"I guess… I guess I can do that. Be your friend, I mean," Padma said, stammering.
"Great!" A grin lit up Anthony's face; he felt like he had never been happier before. "Friends?"
"Friends."
Padma twirled the amaryllis in her fingers, drinking in the exotic aroma.
"Anthony?" she called, lowering her eyes when he looked at her.
He walked over. His gaze traveled from her blushing face to the amaryllis in her hands and lingered there, growing more hesitant by the moment.
"Oh…" He took a deep breath. "About that…" He revealed an apricot blossom from behind his back.
"That means…" Padma faltered as realization dawned upon her.
"Timid love," Anthony finished, cheeks red.
"Oh." Padma closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart. "I didn't know…" Then, after a moment, a soft smile graced her lips. She waved her wand, and a pale pink flower appeared.
"An ambrosia," Anthony said, smiling. "Does that mean…"
"Yes," she told him breathlessly. "I think… I think I might like you back."
Their lips met in a kiss.
They had been together since fifth year. It was a relationship that never faltered. It was full of passion.
And now, they were on the brink of war.
They could only hope that their love would survive the war.
Padma raced towards the Great Hall, a sob breaking free from her throat.
She had not seen Anthony since they had last kissed before departing.
She spotted Terry kneeling down, and she slumped down beside him. He turned his tear-streaked face to meet her.
"Padma…" he choked out.
"No!" she screamed, pushing him aside. "NO!"
There was Anthony.
Dead.
Her beloved Anthony was dead.
"No," she whispered through her cries. "Please, no."
She shook a dumbstruck Terry by his shoulders. "Tell me he's alive. Please."
"I'm sorry, Padma," he said, another tear escaping his eyes.
"No! He can't be dead!" Padma let out another scream. "Please, Anthony, wake up! Please!"
Anthony lay there, limp. Lifeless. His dirty blond hair was matted with blood and dust.
"Anthony," she sobbed, burying her head against his chest. "Please, don't leave me." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Anthony."
She remembered when he had declared his true love for her.
"Padma," Anthony said, pulling her into a hug. He gazed into her eyes with adoration.
Padma wouldn't have preferred to be anywhere else other than his arms.
"Yes, Anthony?"
"I need to tell you something."
"What… what is it?" she asked, hoping that whatever it was wouldn't be bad.
He let her go and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a deep red rose.
Padma gasps.
"Padma, I love you."
He curled her fingers around the rose's stem, pulling her in for a kiss.
"I love you, Anthony Goldstein." She kissed him again.
She stood before his grave, biting her lip desperately in an attempt to hold back the tears that were brimming in her eyes.
"Anthony… I loved you. No, I still love you," she started.
"You were the light in my life, as cliché as it sounds," she managed to choke through her sobs.
"But you gave this world hope. I know I shouldn't be selfish, Anthony, but I want you back. I need you." She let out another cry.
"I promise, Anthony. I promise I'll never forget you." Padma wiped her eyes with a hand. She glanced at the white roses that lay scattered beside the gravestone.
She set a pink carnation down first.
Never forget.
Then a periwinkle. The lightest shade of blue.
Sweet remembrance.
Finally, a red rose. Red as blood. Red as the heart that throbbed in her chest.
Love.
Anthony Goldstein was her unforgettable love.