Despite them being housemates for nearly five years, Cho could hardly recall ever exchanging more than a handful of words with Padma Patil.

It's not because she didn't like Padma- she had no reason not to.

It was simply because their paths were clear-cut to be different and had never had a reason to cross.

And after five years, Cho was fine with that.

More than fine, really.

She'd never had many friends, and she had no reason to expand upon the few that she did.

At least, that was what she told herself.

But over the years she'd learned that if she told a lie enough times, it almost started to sound like the truth.


One hundred and twenty-nine.

It had been one hundred and twenty-nine days since Cedric's death.

One hundred and twenty-nine days since Cho had shed a tear- a record for her.

Pitiful, really. What was even more pitiful was that she'd mentally kept a tally of how long it had been all this time, like some sort of lovesick fool.

It only further spurred the gossip: the whispers and hushed conversations that after Cedric's death Cho Chang had become an inconsolable wreck. She wasn't sure what was worse- the scandalized rumors or the blunt questions about what it was like to lose someone so close to her and in such a horrific way.

They'd finally lessened, and today no one had even spared her a second glance. She was not sure if that was a good or bad thing, though it wasn't until she remembered what today was that she realized why.

October 31st. Halloween.

That was why. The students of Hogwarts had much more festive things to attend to than a girl mourning a boy who'd died months ago.

Perhaps Cho could join the festivities, she thought, lips twisting into a smile.

She wouldn't even need a costume. She could go as Cho Chang, the ghost of the girl Cedric Diggory had loved.


It was a few hours later that she decided that she would not go to the Halloween feast. Padma Patil had made the same decision, she noticed, spotting the girl sitting in the otherwise empty common room on the chair opposite Cho.

Cho had never been one for conversation, but she supposed there was a first time for everything. Besides, she was curious. What was it that kept Padma from attending one of Hogwarts' greatest revelries?

"Not a fan of Halloween?" she asked, the words tumbling out suddenly.

There was a beat of silence where Cho wondered if Padma would even bother to reply.

"Not really," Padma said slowly, her words tinged with melancholy and what seemed to be regret. "I just don't see the point of it. What's the point of being someone else for a night? In the end, you're still yourself and that's never going to change." If Cho wasn't mistaken, she sounded almost bitter.

But it was not her place to push. Instead, she dipped her head in a nod. "Yeah, that makes sense," was her automatic response.

You're still yourself and that's never going to change.

It was a hard, unforgiving truth, a reminder to Cho why she tended to dwell so much on lies.

"It must be nice to pretend, though. Even if it's only for a night," she mused softly, speaking more to herself than Padma now.

"I've never thought about it like that." Padma's eyes were brighter now, as though a switch had just been flicked on. "Shall we try it?" she asked curiously.

"Try what?" Cho asked.

"Pretending."


Cho stood in front of the bathroom mirror, painting her lips with a coral gloss. She was wearing a silver dress that caught glittered every time it caught the light, borrowed from Padma. She would never acquire such a thing of her own accord.

As she brushed her cheeks with powder the same coral shade of the lipstick, it was easy to believe that she was not Cho Chang. She was someone different, she was whoever she wanted to be. She imagined the endless possibilities as she set the final piece- a tiara charmed to sparkle like the stars- onto her head.

"You look like a princess," Padma remarked, though when Cho finally dared to look at her reflection in the mirror she thought otherwise.

Princesses were sweet and docile, with eyes full of hope and hearts full of love.

But no matter how hard Cho tried to pretend, she was no princess.

Perhaps she had been, once.

Then her prince had left and her kingdom had come crashing down around her, splintering into irreparable pieces. Leaving not a princess, but a queen.

Ruthless and unfeeling, hardened by battle- but stronger nonetheless.

Perhaps if Cho told that lie enough times it might finally become true.

But for one hundred and twenty-nine days, she had been trying, and she was still on the brink of falling apart.