Chapter Two
"..and then you perform the flick-swish-flick method after adding eye of carp, followed by adding a pinch of mandrake leaves," Padma chanted to herself, walking circles in her room. "After that, you stir with the tip of your wand--no, that isn't right. You first add the...er...bloody cripes. This ruddy potions exam is going to be the end of me," she muttered, leaning against the wall next to the door. A curly strand fell in her eye, but she was too lazy to merely brush it out. No, she was too concerned with the grumbling coming from the previously-silent common room.
Ron threw his quill down on top of his potions essay and rubbed his eyes vigorously.
"Get it together, man," he mumbled to himself. Ordinarily, he would have already had the essay completed and being proofread by Hermione. But not today, as he had decided to avoid the company of his best friends after the thinly veiled annoyance Harry had shown out on the Quidditch pitch today.
He knew he couldn't blame Harry for being annoyed at him. He had played bloody awful today. He just couldn't concentrate. Things kept moving in and out of focus in his mind, making it impossible to do things he ordinarily could have done with his eyes closed. In fact, he had decided to do his homework in the common room because he felt like if he was within ten feet of his bed, he'd fall in it and not get anything done. Not that it seemed to be helping. The tabletop he was working on didn't look as fluffy as his pillow, but it would work.
Padma leaned against the doorframe, facing inside the common room. She observed Ron's head slowly rest against his forearms as they folded under him against the table, and grinned slightly. She quietly walked over to him, only on the balls of her feet in order to stay silent, and leaned over his shoulder to see what he was working on.
"Potions, eh?" she said, letting it slip. She sunk back against the back of the couch.
Ron's head jerked up at the sound of her voice. He was jolted out of the haze that had been surrounding him. He gave his suitemate a dark look as he picked up his quill and sighed.
"Right, potions," he said, squinting down at the paper and trying to remember where he'd left off.
Padma pulled herself up on the back of the couch, her legs dangling and swinging like a child. "I suppose that class is giving you qualms also?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap. She felt a small resentment building up inside of her chest again, just like every time she found Ron around the common room, napping. Each time, it rose up into her throat; every time she almost found courage to scold him, he would leave the room.
"Qualms, sweaty palms, you name it," Ron said, frowning down at the paper. "Right now, the only potion I want to know is the one that will glue Snape's arse to his chair so that he can't walk around like he's lord over all of us. Now that is a potion that I would willingly write a three foot essay on."
For once in the evening, Padma's head laid back as she emitted a hearty laugh. "And I would willingly collaborate with you on that one. Can you believe he's springing twenty four inches of essay and an exam on us even before winter break? He's one sordid man, I tell you." She jumped down from the couch and sat in the chair on the table. "Though, even if we did collaborate on a potion, you'd end up hexing me or something."
Ron snorted and looked up at her. He scooted a bit away from the table and leaned back, crossing his arms. "Yeah right, Patil. You're the last person who would pull a prank on anyone, nevertheless a professor. Pulling pranks is an art in itself. It takes imagination, not just cunning and planning. You don't have it in you."
"I don't have it in me, you say?" she asked, her eyebrows rising on her forehead. She laughed a bit, then propped her head up with her arm. "Weasley, I don't think you can even handle my pranks. Just because you haven't seen me pull any doesn't mean any of them haven't been my responsibility." She mimicked Ron's position, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back. "Remember the day last year when Malfoy ran from Greenhouse three, carrying on about the plants talking to him?" she asked, smiling evilly.
Now it was Ron's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That was you?" He asked, not believing his ears. He had laughed about that incident for weeks afterwards, until Hermione had told him to grow up. "There's no way in Hades that was you."
Padma smiled silently, leaning back in her chair. "Not only is there a way in Hades it was me, but I've pranked that bloody git so many times since second year that no one has even noticed--he thought he was going nutters and didn't say a word to anyone." She smugly looked at her sleeve and played with the loose thread on it, keeping a smirk on her face.
Ron looked at her squarely, grinning as he uncrossed his arms, and sat up. He shook his head. "I don't believe you. You're too..." he searched for a word to describe Padma, "too...restrained to ever do anything unpredictable like that."
"Who else would turn his robes bright pink?" she asked, standing up and walking over to the fireplace. "I only look restrained to keep myself from getting detention, you see." She brought out her wand and waved it at the fire, creating a few shapes with the flying embers over the hearth. "And anyway, I don't need to prove anything to you. I'm much better at pranks than you are, I'd wager."
"I knew it had to be a girl," Ron muttered to himself at the reminder of Draco's pink robes. He had even bought a few photos off of Creevey so that he'd never forget the hilarious moment.
He looked up at the girl infront of him. She was slender and didn't look very menacing at all, but he had learned better than to underestimate her. However, he couldn't stop himself from laughing at her last comment. "Wager, eh? Now you're talking betting?" He reached out and put his hand on her forehead as if he was checking her temperature. "Are you feeling alright, Patil? What would Dumbledore say if he knew his head girl was trying to make wagers with the head boy? Over pranking no less."
Padma slapped his hand away from her forehead. "I'm just fine, Ron. I'm a very innocent-looking, guilty girl. Now," she said, leaning in slightly, "are you in or not? Can you out-prank me?" She held out her hand as though she was waiting for a handshake.
As she held out her hand, she looked Weasley over. He seemed to be a challenge, for once--not like Draco Malfoy, who was "all bark and no bite," as the muggle saying went. On the contrary, Ron seemed to be enough to give her something new, something interesting.
Ron smiled. It wasn't a grin or half smile--it was a real smile. Something that he hadn't done since the school year had started, bringing one problem after another. For a few seconds, he forgot about the shop, Quidditch, Harry's annoyance, Hermione's worrying, his potions homework and his need for sleep. For a few seconds, he wasn't Head Boy, or almost a man, or anything...but a boy. The boy he'd always been.
"Alright," he said, taking her hand in his. His hand was so large that it almost buried hers in his long and slender fingers. He shook on it. "I'm in."
She felt her small hand become enveloped in his, which was slightly calloused from Quidditch, and enthusiastically shook it. "Right. For the next month, we're allowed five pranks each, which should amount to one per week for each of us. No more than that," she said, raising her eyebrows at him. She slowly took her hand away from his, then rounded the table and sat down again, grabbing a piece of his parchment and quill.
Ignoring his protests, she began writing. "Now, after you sign this, you have to pinky swear with me, then sign with your blood. Precautionary, you know," she said casually as she wrote the rules of the agreement.
"Bloody hell, Patil," Ron said as he watched her move his potions essay aside hastily. "This is a bet, I'm not signing my life away. I think we both trust one another to play by the rules..."
Didn't she?
As if answering his question, Padma looked up at him. "Weasley, last time I trusted anyone's word on a prank challenge, they went against the rules and turned my entire wardrobe bright yellow and enchanted it to sing whenever someone passed me on the left." She glared at him with complete seriousness as he snickered at her. "Permanently."
Well, that explained why she didn't wear much yellow, didn't it?
He rolled his eyes as he held his hand out for the quill to sign. His mind was already racing with prank possibilities. He was going to have to enlist Fred and George's help with this one. They owed him at least that since they so shamelessly took advantage of his manual labor.
Padma handed him the quill and watched him sign. "We had to bloody burn the entire closet. It was horrid, watching a pile of yellow clothes burn, all the while hearing it shriek the tune of 'God Save the Queen.' Really, I can't hear that song without wanting to burn myself now." She shuddered at the thought.
Ron grinned, "And who was that imaginative cheat? You have to admit it was a brilliant idea."
Padma took the quill from him so that she could sign it herself. "You would never guess." She signed her name, then stuck her pinky out for him to link it with hers. "Pinky swear that you will not cheat or get any help from anyone, or else I will be forced to break your pinky finger. Same with me."
Ron laughed, as he entwined his finger with hers, but the smile quickly faded into a sound of pain as she tightened her finger. "Ow...alright, alright. I swear."
He released his finger and looked specuatively at the girl infront of him. He had a feeling that this wasn't going to be as easy as he had first assumed.
As she cut her fingertip with the end of the quill, she flinched slightly at the pain as well as the blood. She pressed her finger on the paper next to her name, then handed the quill back to Ron. Without looking up, she sucked on her fingertip and examined the paper. "It was Parvati."
"Parvati?" Ron asked in shock, dropping the quill. "I don't believe it."
He bent down to pick up the quill. "Who would have thought Parvati would have it in her?" He pricked his finger, making a big show of not wincing and put his fingerprint down on the paper.
"Then again," he said with pride, almost as an afterthought. "She is a Gryffindor."
"It's not that she's a Gryffindor," she said through her finger in her mouth as she stood up. She walked across the room to the bookshelf, where she retrieved an old, worn book.
"She's a Patil."
Padma walked back over to the table and sat the book down by the spine, allowing it to crackle open. In it was a plethora of moving pictures, all containing pictures of two young, dark-haired girls playing together, some with parents. "We were raised to believe that anything worth doing was worth doing correctly. We taught ourselves how to successfully follow through in everything we did--mostly pranks. Parvati and I both came up with fantastic ideas to get each other, but eventually our plans were found and foiled by our mum." She nibbled her lip and gazed down at the pictures.
"Well, it would be a bit difficult to hide a yellow wardrobe, wouldn't it?" he asked looking at the pictures. They reminded him of when he was younger and how his house had always been full of siblings to spend the day with and find new adventures. "So were you and Parvati close?" he asked, curious. "I mean, when you were younger?" It was possible that they were close now, but it was rarely that he ever saw them exchange words, nevertheless hug one another like the poses in the pictures from when they were children.
Padma folded her arms over on the table and rested her chin on them. "Rather close, actually. And for a long time, we were inseperable. I suppose the deciding time was ultimately when we were sorted into different houses. For a year or two, we tried to stay very close, but it just so happens that Parvati and I have different values. She decided to distance herself from me, since we are so opposite in our personal beliefs." She gazed at the pictures blankly, watching the two identical girls hug each other's necks, dance together, and smile gleefully.
"Yeah," Ron said a little sadly, looking down at his hands. "I suppose everyone changes, even your family. Our family used to be really close, but then everyone sort of grew up and branched off and now we're lucky if we can get everyone together for Christmas. And Percy..." He tapered off, realizing that he was talking about this with Padma Patil of all people. "Well...he's different," he finished hurridly, gathering his parchment more for something to occupy his hands than as a sign that he was getting ready to leave.
Padma cocked her head in curiosity. "Different? How?" she asked, hoping she wasn't prying. She probably was. Then again, she talked freely about the differences between herself and Parvati. Why shouldn't someone else feel the same about their siblings?
Ron's head snapped up at her and he studied her face for a moment. He debated on whether or not to tell Padma about how Percy had been distancing himself from the family for the last two years. How he hadn't even come to his father's bedside when he'd been ill. She had an open and sincere face, just like Parvati's. But if he'd learned anything from their conversation tonight it was that she could be cunning when she wanted to be.
"Just different," he said shrugging and looking uncomfortable as he broke the eye contact. He yawned and made a big show of stretching. "Well, I think I'm going to call it a night. I've got some brilliant pranks to dream up."
She blinked for a moment, recovering from the gaze he had been giving her, and shut her family photo album. "Right, me too. Good luck with that, we start tomorrow," she said, standing up. She dusted the book off idly, as though she were waiting for Ron for something.
He grinned at her, picking up his parchment and quill with their blood intermixed on the tip. "Right, good luck with you too."
He stood there a moment, feeling like he should say more but being at a loss as to what that should be. "Goodnight," he said finally and not a little awkwardly as he got up and make quick strides to his door. He shut the door behind him and leaned up against it, thinking over their conversation. It had been interesting. Who would have guessed Patil of all people had been behind Malfoy's pink robes?
He smiled to himself. This was going to be fun.
Padma stood, her sight lingering at his shut door, as she held the photo album to her chest. She smiled smally and blinked a few tears from her eyes, unseen by Ron earlier. She missed her sister, even if she persecuted her free will. She longed for the relationship that Ron had with his siblings. She shook her head. You're not jealous of a Weasley.
"Goodnight."
--
Sharp disaster in a fresh new coma
Was it worth it when it was over?
Proving yourself right, you'd make the biggest noise.
Well, I'd lock my hands behind my head,
I'd cover my heart and hit the deck,
I'd brace myself for the impact if I were you.
-Am I Missing - Dashboard Confessional
"..and then you perform the flick-swish-flick method after adding eye of carp, followed by adding a pinch of mandrake leaves," Padma chanted to herself, walking circles in her room. "After that, you stir with the tip of your wand--no, that isn't right. You first add the...er...bloody cripes. This ruddy potions exam is going to be the end of me," she muttered, leaning against the wall next to the door. A curly strand fell in her eye, but she was too lazy to merely brush it out. No, she was too concerned with the grumbling coming from the previously-silent common room.
Ron threw his quill down on top of his potions essay and rubbed his eyes vigorously.
"Get it together, man," he mumbled to himself. Ordinarily, he would have already had the essay completed and being proofread by Hermione. But not today, as he had decided to avoid the company of his best friends after the thinly veiled annoyance Harry had shown out on the Quidditch pitch today.
He knew he couldn't blame Harry for being annoyed at him. He had played bloody awful today. He just couldn't concentrate. Things kept moving in and out of focus in his mind, making it impossible to do things he ordinarily could have done with his eyes closed. In fact, he had decided to do his homework in the common room because he felt like if he was within ten feet of his bed, he'd fall in it and not get anything done. Not that it seemed to be helping. The tabletop he was working on didn't look as fluffy as his pillow, but it would work.
Padma leaned against the doorframe, facing inside the common room. She observed Ron's head slowly rest against his forearms as they folded under him against the table, and grinned slightly. She quietly walked over to him, only on the balls of her feet in order to stay silent, and leaned over his shoulder to see what he was working on.
"Potions, eh?" she said, letting it slip. She sunk back against the back of the couch.
Ron's head jerked up at the sound of her voice. He was jolted out of the haze that had been surrounding him. He gave his suitemate a dark look as he picked up his quill and sighed.
"Right, potions," he said, squinting down at the paper and trying to remember where he'd left off.
Padma pulled herself up on the back of the couch, her legs dangling and swinging like a child. "I suppose that class is giving you qualms also?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap. She felt a small resentment building up inside of her chest again, just like every time she found Ron around the common room, napping. Each time, it rose up into her throat; every time she almost found courage to scold him, he would leave the room.
"Qualms, sweaty palms, you name it," Ron said, frowning down at the paper. "Right now, the only potion I want to know is the one that will glue Snape's arse to his chair so that he can't walk around like he's lord over all of us. Now that is a potion that I would willingly write a three foot essay on."
For once in the evening, Padma's head laid back as she emitted a hearty laugh. "And I would willingly collaborate with you on that one. Can you believe he's springing twenty four inches of essay and an exam on us even before winter break? He's one sordid man, I tell you." She jumped down from the couch and sat in the chair on the table. "Though, even if we did collaborate on a potion, you'd end up hexing me or something."
Ron snorted and looked up at her. He scooted a bit away from the table and leaned back, crossing his arms. "Yeah right, Patil. You're the last person who would pull a prank on anyone, nevertheless a professor. Pulling pranks is an art in itself. It takes imagination, not just cunning and planning. You don't have it in you."
"I don't have it in me, you say?" she asked, her eyebrows rising on her forehead. She laughed a bit, then propped her head up with her arm. "Weasley, I don't think you can even handle my pranks. Just because you haven't seen me pull any doesn't mean any of them haven't been my responsibility." She mimicked Ron's position, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back. "Remember the day last year when Malfoy ran from Greenhouse three, carrying on about the plants talking to him?" she asked, smiling evilly.
Now it was Ron's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That was you?" He asked, not believing his ears. He had laughed about that incident for weeks afterwards, until Hermione had told him to grow up. "There's no way in Hades that was you."
Padma smiled silently, leaning back in her chair. "Not only is there a way in Hades it was me, but I've pranked that bloody git so many times since second year that no one has even noticed--he thought he was going nutters and didn't say a word to anyone." She smugly looked at her sleeve and played with the loose thread on it, keeping a smirk on her face.
Ron looked at her squarely, grinning as he uncrossed his arms, and sat up. He shook his head. "I don't believe you. You're too..." he searched for a word to describe Padma, "too...restrained to ever do anything unpredictable like that."
"Who else would turn his robes bright pink?" she asked, standing up and walking over to the fireplace. "I only look restrained to keep myself from getting detention, you see." She brought out her wand and waved it at the fire, creating a few shapes with the flying embers over the hearth. "And anyway, I don't need to prove anything to you. I'm much better at pranks than you are, I'd wager."
"I knew it had to be a girl," Ron muttered to himself at the reminder of Draco's pink robes. He had even bought a few photos off of Creevey so that he'd never forget the hilarious moment.
He looked up at the girl infront of him. She was slender and didn't look very menacing at all, but he had learned better than to underestimate her. However, he couldn't stop himself from laughing at her last comment. "Wager, eh? Now you're talking betting?" He reached out and put his hand on her forehead as if he was checking her temperature. "Are you feeling alright, Patil? What would Dumbledore say if he knew his head girl was trying to make wagers with the head boy? Over pranking no less."
Padma slapped his hand away from her forehead. "I'm just fine, Ron. I'm a very innocent-looking, guilty girl. Now," she said, leaning in slightly, "are you in or not? Can you out-prank me?" She held out her hand as though she was waiting for a handshake.
As she held out her hand, she looked Weasley over. He seemed to be a challenge, for once--not like Draco Malfoy, who was "all bark and no bite," as the muggle saying went. On the contrary, Ron seemed to be enough to give her something new, something interesting.
Ron smiled. It wasn't a grin or half smile--it was a real smile. Something that he hadn't done since the school year had started, bringing one problem after another. For a few seconds, he forgot about the shop, Quidditch, Harry's annoyance, Hermione's worrying, his potions homework and his need for sleep. For a few seconds, he wasn't Head Boy, or almost a man, or anything...but a boy. The boy he'd always been.
"Alright," he said, taking her hand in his. His hand was so large that it almost buried hers in his long and slender fingers. He shook on it. "I'm in."
She felt her small hand become enveloped in his, which was slightly calloused from Quidditch, and enthusiastically shook it. "Right. For the next month, we're allowed five pranks each, which should amount to one per week for each of us. No more than that," she said, raising her eyebrows at him. She slowly took her hand away from his, then rounded the table and sat down again, grabbing a piece of his parchment and quill.
Ignoring his protests, she began writing. "Now, after you sign this, you have to pinky swear with me, then sign with your blood. Precautionary, you know," she said casually as she wrote the rules of the agreement.
"Bloody hell, Patil," Ron said as he watched her move his potions essay aside hastily. "This is a bet, I'm not signing my life away. I think we both trust one another to play by the rules..."
Didn't she?
As if answering his question, Padma looked up at him. "Weasley, last time I trusted anyone's word on a prank challenge, they went against the rules and turned my entire wardrobe bright yellow and enchanted it to sing whenever someone passed me on the left." She glared at him with complete seriousness as he snickered at her. "Permanently."
Well, that explained why she didn't wear much yellow, didn't it?
He rolled his eyes as he held his hand out for the quill to sign. His mind was already racing with prank possibilities. He was going to have to enlist Fred and George's help with this one. They owed him at least that since they so shamelessly took advantage of his manual labor.
Padma handed him the quill and watched him sign. "We had to bloody burn the entire closet. It was horrid, watching a pile of yellow clothes burn, all the while hearing it shriek the tune of 'God Save the Queen.' Really, I can't hear that song without wanting to burn myself now." She shuddered at the thought.
Ron grinned, "And who was that imaginative cheat? You have to admit it was a brilliant idea."
Padma took the quill from him so that she could sign it herself. "You would never guess." She signed her name, then stuck her pinky out for him to link it with hers. "Pinky swear that you will not cheat or get any help from anyone, or else I will be forced to break your pinky finger. Same with me."
Ron laughed, as he entwined his finger with hers, but the smile quickly faded into a sound of pain as she tightened her finger. "Ow...alright, alright. I swear."
He released his finger and looked specuatively at the girl infront of him. He had a feeling that this wasn't going to be as easy as he had first assumed.
As she cut her fingertip with the end of the quill, she flinched slightly at the pain as well as the blood. She pressed her finger on the paper next to her name, then handed the quill back to Ron. Without looking up, she sucked on her fingertip and examined the paper. "It was Parvati."
"Parvati?" Ron asked in shock, dropping the quill. "I don't believe it."
He bent down to pick up the quill. "Who would have thought Parvati would have it in her?" He pricked his finger, making a big show of not wincing and put his fingerprint down on the paper.
"Then again," he said with pride, almost as an afterthought. "She is a Gryffindor."
"It's not that she's a Gryffindor," she said through her finger in her mouth as she stood up. She walked across the room to the bookshelf, where she retrieved an old, worn book.
"She's a Patil."
Padma walked back over to the table and sat the book down by the spine, allowing it to crackle open. In it was a plethora of moving pictures, all containing pictures of two young, dark-haired girls playing together, some with parents. "We were raised to believe that anything worth doing was worth doing correctly. We taught ourselves how to successfully follow through in everything we did--mostly pranks. Parvati and I both came up with fantastic ideas to get each other, but eventually our plans were found and foiled by our mum." She nibbled her lip and gazed down at the pictures.
"Well, it would be a bit difficult to hide a yellow wardrobe, wouldn't it?" he asked looking at the pictures. They reminded him of when he was younger and how his house had always been full of siblings to spend the day with and find new adventures. "So were you and Parvati close?" he asked, curious. "I mean, when you were younger?" It was possible that they were close now, but it was rarely that he ever saw them exchange words, nevertheless hug one another like the poses in the pictures from when they were children.
Padma folded her arms over on the table and rested her chin on them. "Rather close, actually. And for a long time, we were inseperable. I suppose the deciding time was ultimately when we were sorted into different houses. For a year or two, we tried to stay very close, but it just so happens that Parvati and I have different values. She decided to distance herself from me, since we are so opposite in our personal beliefs." She gazed at the pictures blankly, watching the two identical girls hug each other's necks, dance together, and smile gleefully.
"Yeah," Ron said a little sadly, looking down at his hands. "I suppose everyone changes, even your family. Our family used to be really close, but then everyone sort of grew up and branched off and now we're lucky if we can get everyone together for Christmas. And Percy..." He tapered off, realizing that he was talking about this with Padma Patil of all people. "Well...he's different," he finished hurridly, gathering his parchment more for something to occupy his hands than as a sign that he was getting ready to leave.
Padma cocked her head in curiosity. "Different? How?" she asked, hoping she wasn't prying. She probably was. Then again, she talked freely about the differences between herself and Parvati. Why shouldn't someone else feel the same about their siblings?
Ron's head snapped up at her and he studied her face for a moment. He debated on whether or not to tell Padma about how Percy had been distancing himself from the family for the last two years. How he hadn't even come to his father's bedside when he'd been ill. She had an open and sincere face, just like Parvati's. But if he'd learned anything from their conversation tonight it was that she could be cunning when she wanted to be.
"Just different," he said shrugging and looking uncomfortable as he broke the eye contact. He yawned and made a big show of stretching. "Well, I think I'm going to call it a night. I've got some brilliant pranks to dream up."
She blinked for a moment, recovering from the gaze he had been giving her, and shut her family photo album. "Right, me too. Good luck with that, we start tomorrow," she said, standing up. She dusted the book off idly, as though she were waiting for Ron for something.
He grinned at her, picking up his parchment and quill with their blood intermixed on the tip. "Right, good luck with you too."
He stood there a moment, feeling like he should say more but being at a loss as to what that should be. "Goodnight," he said finally and not a little awkwardly as he got up and make quick strides to his door. He shut the door behind him and leaned up against it, thinking over their conversation. It had been interesting. Who would have guessed Patil of all people had been behind Malfoy's pink robes?
He smiled to himself. This was going to be fun.
Padma stood, her sight lingering at his shut door, as she held the photo album to her chest. She smiled smally and blinked a few tears from her eyes, unseen by Ron earlier. She missed her sister, even if she persecuted her free will. She longed for the relationship that Ron had with his siblings. She shook her head. You're not jealous of a Weasley.
"Goodnight."
--
Sharp disaster in a fresh new coma
Was it worth it when it was over?
Proving yourself right, you'd make the biggest noise.
Well, I'd lock my hands behind my head,
I'd cover my heart and hit the deck,
I'd brace myself for the impact if I were you.
-Am I Missing - Dashboard Confessional