Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I support JK Rowlings disgusting stance against the trans community. Also, I am not Indian, any cultural references I have made have been googled or things I've read in books — I am simply a girl with google doing her best, but anything you notice I have been misguided/misinterpreted please correct me. Thank you!


"My room is so quiet and empty, it hurts."

—Nina LaCour, Hold Still.

Parvati had been the second to be sorted. She wasn't surprised Padma was in Ravenclaw. It was just the way it was meant to be — Padma, with all her smarts and books would be in Ravenclaw, and Parvati would be in Hufflepuff. It was fate, destiny!

It made her stomach roll as the older woman in the emerald green cloak called her name.

"Patil, Parvati."

She had been too nervous to be impressed this stranger said her name right. She was constantly correcting people. "It's Par - Va -Tee."

Her legs shook as she walked to the stool and sat upon it, hearing the hat speak about her unwavering loyalty, her acceptance of others, and her admiration of courage and bravery. "You, too, have a lion's heart… better be, GRYFFINDOR!"

She'd been stunned, almost more stunned than the boy who had run off with the hat after a whole fifteen minutes of wearing it, but she saw her sister's grin, her clapping, and she felt almost confident as she walked to the table.

"I'm Lavender Brown," the black girl on her left introduced herself when the food appeared. She had a beautiful smile, with a dimple on her left cheek and her hair in long twists down her back. Parvati grinned at her.

"Parvati Patil."

"I thought I was going to be in Hufflepuff. My cousin Rodney kept saying I was among all the rest," she scoffed as she looked down the table. Parvati followed her gaze, seeing a boy with long locs laughing with a few of the older boys. "He's a second year, and a total git."

Parvati nodded her head, "He is."

Lavender giggled and the two clinked their goblets together. "Where did you think you'd end up?"

"Hufflepuff. My mother said I was too moon-eyed for Ravenclaw, like her and my Dad. My sister's there, though. She's the smart one," Parvati said in a matter-of-fact tone. It was what it was: Padma was smart, and Parvati was dreamy. Her grandmother always said she was spacey and wishy washy.

"Ya, Parvati! You should be more like your sister Padma and study!"

"Ya, Parvati! Pay attention to these lectures, Padma doesn't stare off into space like you!"

"You're not stupid!" Lavender said hotly, as if someone had insulted her new best friend. It made Parvati's heart skip a beat. Only her and Padma had a bond like that, and she and Lavender had met five minutes ago officially.

Parvati didn't know at the time, but Lavender had seen her on the platform before getting lost in the shuttle.

"I think we're soulmates," Parvati had said in a hushed whisper one night. They had been under the covers, giggling as they read through Witch Weekly and played Weird Sisters on the wireless. Hermione Granger had been gone, and they'd stopped feeling guilty for preferring it that way.

They had been thirteen, and Lavender had grinned back, "Thank god the universe brought us together, ya, Parvati!"

Parvati blinked in confusion. Lavender never used that term. Her family did, and Lavender had heard it be used when she stayed during the holiday, but she never really understood the culture behind it. "You'll always be my Ati!" she'd say with a grin, hugging her neck tight.

She looks around the dorm room, confused. They had been eleven in the Great Hall. When she turns back to ask her friend, she's gone. Parvati is alone, and it is dark. The dark is endless as she calls for Lavender to come back.

"Parvati!" she hears, over and over, and something is moving her, shaking her, and then there's light.

She startles. Her eyes feel gross as she removes her face from the glass and turns to see Padma looking at her. There is concern in her deep brown eyes and Parvati wants to look away.

"Sorry… I would've let you sleep, but it's our stop."

They traveled home the muggle way. There's no need to be safe anymore, the war has been over for nearly six months, but the habits of last year die hard.

Their parents had sent them and their grandmother to Ireland where the war had hardly touched. They had lived as muggles in a flat, listening to Potterwatch endlessly, praying names of those they love weren't there.

Her mother worked at St Mungo's and their father had worked obediently at his job in law, smuggling muggleborns out to France, to anyone who would take them for the time being. Lavender had been at school, cut off from her best friend until her DA coin had glowed.

Nothing could've kept her away from the fight.

"It's fine," Parvati says as sleep becomes a distant memory and she gathers her bag.

"You were having a rough go of it," Padma says cautiously as they exit the train. Parvati doesn't feign ignorance, she won't insult Padma with such a pitiful evasion.

"Yeah, I was," is all she says as they enter Victoria Station.

The cool air wakes her right up as she steps into the grey outdoors. It's May, but in London right now it may as well be winter with the rain. It matches her mood — gloomy. No one's had the nerve to say it, not even Grandmother.

Padma loops her arm into her twins, the way they always had before. They never stopped doing it, but it feels empty now.

Padma once said she felt jealous when she saw her and Lavender walk like that the first week they knew one another.

"Oh, Ati — can I call you that?" she asked, her eyes wide as she sat on her bed. They'd dressed for bed, Hermione Granger, their bossy roommate, had already shut the covers to go to bed after demanding they do the same. Parvati had told her to mind her own beeswax, making Lavender laugh loudly and the bushy hair girl to huff and puff at her and slam the curtains shut.

Only her family called her that, and she grinned. "Of course!"

"You and I, we're going to be best friends."

The memory cut like glass and she shut her eyes briefly. Padma patted her hand.

"It's okay, we're almost home."


oOo


Parvati and Padma had gotten a flat in Diagon Alley. George Weasley had all but given it to them when Ron Weasley got wind of them needing a place to stay, and Parvati hadn't been able to stomach the thought of restoring Hogwarts.

Harry had understood when he asked over tea at the Leaky Cauldron. She'd embarrassingly cried, and he'd bought her a shot of firewhiskey. Padma had helped, and Parvati had worked at Wheezes for George.

Parvati liked Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She worked with a girl named Verity who had graduated two years before her and had blonde hair she'd cut into a spiked pixie. Verity, with her pixie cut, nose ring, and dragon tattoo did the accounting, Parvati did the inventory — they made a good team, along with Lee Jordan and Ron.

Parvati had resented Ron so much the last time she'd been at school with him. He'd dated her best friend and broke her heart, and all that year it'd been Ron this and Won-Won that, leaving Parvati behind, but now, she almost saw him like a brother.

She didn't know if she should be ashamed or surprised at how much she'd grown up since sixteen. Two years in a war was basically like two life times, and Lavender's death had changed her whole world.

Ron, who had always been a bit obnoxious and lazy, had become almost unrecognizable. If he wasn't restoring Hogwarts, he was in auror training, and then he'd work at the store all so George could rest and recover.

If Ron thought less of George, and she highly doubt he did, he didn't show it. Neither did Lee, who could sell gold to goblins if given the opportunity. Ron's thing had surprisingly been keeping stock of things Fred and George made. After Hermione Granger came in and looked through the notes and recipes, Ron had become a pro, and Parvati had remembered him being pretty dim when it came to potions, not that she could talk. But Snape hadn't exactly been a very good teacher, so what chance did either of them really have?

"I don't believe in that bullshit, everyone saying they know how you feel," Ron had said one night as he closed down the register. It'd been just her and him, and she never heard him sound so frustrated. "We all lost people, but we don't know how anyone feels about it."

She looked at him, her heart sinking. She'd lost her best friend, and he'd lost a brother, and his brother had lost a twin.

Twins had a bond. It wasn't the mind reading telepathy people thought — twins just felt it, the way she felt magic course through her veins when she held her wand at the ready, or felt eyes on her. She knew Padma's moods like her own, knew when she was sick, or hurt, but it wasn't like she felt these pains on her flesh or bones, it was just in her soul.

She couldn't imagine what George's felt like with Fred gone.

Parvati had never really interacted with the Weasley Twins before. They'd been three years older than her, and they'd been so cool.

Ironically, Lavender had called dibs on Fred.

"How can you even tell them apart?" Seamus had scoffed when he over heard their conversation on the way to breakfast.

"The same way I tell Parvati apart from Padma. They look different, idiot!"

Parvati had grinned at her, and then gagged when she said if she married George they'd be family.

Despite being a twin, Parvati had never been able to tell them apart, even when they were in the DA. Back then, it just hadn't been on her mind, and now she felt guilty about that.

Parvati touched Ron's hand when he made no move to back away from the till, and when he looked at her, she's not surprised to see him cry. She hugs him then, and she knows that he knows she understands.

She does, and she wished with all her heart that she didn't.


oOo


It's Grandmother who says it during tea.

They're at her parents' house, and they're overlooking the garden as the rain pounds on the window. She wonders if they'd apparate home. She knows they should. She should practice it more; the less magic she does, the more she fears about losing it.

"Parvati, I think it is time. Your parents and I understand this sadness you are going through, but we feel it is time that it is enough."

She doesn't say it harshly, in fact, she looks like she wants to cry looking at her broken granddaughter. Parvati has become thinner, and her skin has a sallowness, and her hair is limp, and she looks lost. Padma is stiff lipped, her back straightens.

"Nana, I —"

"Padma," her mother says sternly, but her eyes are soft. "Padma, please."

Parvati's hands are shaking and she puts them under the table. "I'm sorry, Nana, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Parvati, no, that is not what your Grandmother means," her father says gently, taking his youngest daughter's hand and squeezing it. Parvati wants to pull away, to run away, to get a time turner and go as far back as she can; before she knew this endless pain, this endless suffering.

"Then what do you mean?" Padma snaps, setting down her cup with such force Parvati is stunned it didn't shatter.

"What we mean is I think it's time we send Parvati back home," Grandmother says. "To India."