Perfect Illusion

Five years later, Pansy looked older: they said she was insane.

1.

Winter arrived on the Isle of Azkaban—it had been called many things before, but people knew it as Azkaban—and Padma stood on the boat: she could see the island through the fog, and on the beach. Black hair. Black eyes and beautiful pale skin…

She sighed and reached out with her hand.

2.

As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives.
Each wife had seven sacks
Each sack had seven cats,
Each cat had seven kits;
Kits, cats, sacks and wives—
How many were going to St. Ives?

Padma could remember.

All around he childhood there'd been St. Ives—and the riddle that the children used to sing and greet travellers with: but there was only one man on the way to St. Ives, and who had coined the riddle no-one knew; it had long since been lost in history, but Padma remembered the riddle. The children too—the children that seemed to run about and belong to no-one, but when the night came they went home.

Padma could remember the Manor of St. Ives; it'd been in the Parkinson family for many, many years. Pansy Parkinson was the next in line—she'd own it some day, Padma realized; childhood had been boring in the town of St. Ives: her parents had been somewhat distant relations of the Parkinson family. They owned a house near the Manor, and some days, she'd visit the others.

Silver halls, tiled floors and coloured walls: green and black drapes hanging from the windows, and the soft—almost ethereal light that seemed to was through the clear windows. It was magic: Padma felt the magic when she was young—because Parvati had always been the one to be interested in makeup and chatting and—

Parvati had been good friends with Pansy, once: before all of it had happened. Before Hogwarts and it's empty stone halls, and Gryffindor and Slytherin. Before the dead bodies littered the battlefield and beauty became just a little thing of the past: before the cloak and dagger, before—

Padma sighed and looked up at the house. It had been one of many battles that had destroyed her old home, and torn the realm of St. Ives into disaster… not that the muggles knew. The muggles would never know what had happened just on their doorsteps, though late at night, they could smell the rot of the dead corpses: and some of them would see the ghosts of lives long passed.

When she walks down the corridor, all she can remember is the smell of blood—dead bodies, and knives, weapons and guns: broken wands, death and the open sewer: blood splattered the walls, covered with dust and cobwebs and everything passed on. When she walks down the empty halls she can hear the singing of the Ladies, and the piano echoing and the children laughing.

And later, she can remember the screaming.

—Pansy looks up from the piano.

Pansy was always the musical one, Padma thinks, when she sits down on the marble bench. It's cracked. And the willow tree is singed—but it'll live: it's a talking willow tree, a magical tree—of the same family as the Whomping Willow, but different… but the tree was old—and tired—so it didn't talk much any more. Padma sighed and her hair sprays the marble and leaves. It's old.

'One man,' she says aloud—remembering—'going to St. Ives…'

The willow echoed: 'and he says, I have seven wives. Each wife has seven sacks with seven cats with seven kits.'

Padma turned, but the willow was asleep once more: and she sighed.

In Pansy's bedroom, she remembers—'Pansy,' Padma asks: it's holidays, and she's in Ravenclaw so that's all right for a Slytherin to associate with and Pansy looks up and smiles at her. There's a gramophone playing 30s songs in the corner, and the sheets are silk and the curtains around the bed are lace: it's more for show than anything else. Everything's for show, and that which isn't is dead.

'What is it, my dear?' Pansy asks.

Padma sighs and rolls onto her back, and the nightgown is insubstantial—Pansy smiles and Padma feels exposed, but not really: sometime later Padma smiles and kisses Pansy back, while the hand that caresses her breast stills for a second. Later, she doesn't think she remembers it.

A dream—she remembers are dream that was reality.

3.

Parvati had always loved Divination. It wasn't until fifth year that she really became serious on it—spare money was spent buying Divination hand books, tarot cards, I-Ching, crystal balls and then she was the top of her class—

Later she and her parents sat in Dumbledore's office:

'Now,' he says, 'I want you to know that Parvati is, at this moment, no harm to herself—or anyone,'

Padma clutched her mother's hand: 'but she, as Professor Trelawny, and several other Clairvoyants I've consulted agree with me: Parvati is highly attuned seeing, she has the highest seeing ability heard of in these days.'

Her father covered his eyes: 'God,' he said, and his wife turned.

'Why, I mean, what's wrong with that?'

Padma was silent—her mother's eyes pleaded; 'Most seers of that ability…'

—Later still, Padma sits next to the lake on the bench, and the breeze is freezing but she doesn't really care: when she looks up, Pansy's standing over her with a small flask of something that burns. Padma drinks a few sips and chokes: 'Absinthe,' Pansy smiles, 'are you ok dear?'

'My sister is in Gryffindor, you know—'

Pansy wrinkles her nose: 'Stupid Gryffindorks,' she says, and then grins: 'But the Ravenclaws are all right—'

'—' Padma flashes her a grin. 'She's a seer. A true seer.'

—'Oh.' Pansy sits down on the bench next to her.

'I won't tell,' she sees Padma, and Padma sees the look in her eyes: 'honest!'

And then she laughs.

—go insane from knowing what's around the corner…

4.

It's the blood that brings her back to reality, the pool of dried blood on the carpet in the drawing room: it's nearing twilight and it's been raining, so she stayed indoors and lounged on the moth eaten chairs and sat and looked at the set table and traced her name in the dust on the plates. But it's the blood that really makes her smile and she can smell the rain—the dust—the blood—and the death, but underlying there's just everything that's Pansy.

She should be at the funerals, but she doesn't want to go.

The light won—at a great cost—and Padma's happy because of that: Parvati's insane in St. Mungos, a true seeress that foretold the future, and then went mad because of knowing what was just around the corner—: Padma doesn't weep—often. She cries for Pansy in her sleep, sometimes, but in the morning she lays on her back on her bed in her apartment, and the sunlight stokes the fires.

Sometimes, she giggles and remembers:—Pansy balances a glass on her head and prances around the room, and Padma giggles: 'little butterfly,' she says, before she kisses the salt on her skin away.

—Padma burns a candle at the edge of the lake.

It doesn’t take much to conjure a lily and charm it to float, so she puts the flower on it and watched as it flickered in the breeze: eventually, she found the lily, covered with melted wax, floating at her feet as she lay on the sandy beach and stared up at the sky. It's threatening to rain, but she watched the sky anyway.

Later, she stood and walked back into the house, and there's sand on the back of her black dress.

'Pansy?'—she asks.

At home, she remembers the trial: the lamps burning and smelling horrible, and the muttering of everyone in the crowd: and Pansy was brought in, magically bound and somebody stood guard around her. The dementors were gone. And Pansy simply laughed and giggled, but when she saw Padma she went silent; Padma saw the smile, and recognised the hand signal and sighed.

'Order,' the judge says. 'Pansy Parkinson, you are charged with aiding Death Eaters, what do you plead?'

She looked at him: 'Guilty,' and then smiled and rolled her eyes, 'obviously.'
Padma sighed and fell back in her seat.

—'five years low security in Azkaban'—

5.

She goes home when it's dark and raining.

6.

Her apartment's clogged and stuffy, and she throws the windows open and takes a deep breath: she checks her messages—'Padma, it's Mother here,' the woman says, 'I was wondering if you wanted to come for dinner on Friday?'—and sits down on the white couch and cuddles with the cushion. It's a nice idea, she thinks: the answering machine flickers to the next message.

'Hi Padma it's Lavender here I was wondering if you wanted to join me and the girls for lunch on Friday at that little restaurant called Gloria's do you know it you must know it obviously so yeah if you want to come just return this call and all so bye luv and see you there I hope!'—Padma laughed and rolled her eyes.

Lavender was always in a hurry, for one who had so much time on her hands. The machine clicks again—'Hi… Padma?' a gentle, quiet voice: 'It's Ron Weasley here… I didn't see you at the funeral; I was wondering if you were ok? I mean, we were going to have a little lunch after—I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Give me a call if you can.'

Padma sighed. As she turned the television on—drowning out the end of Ron's message—but the machine clicks for the last time: 'Ms. Patil? It's Sherry Bright here, from Dawning Layers, could you give me a ring sometime later tonight? It's rather urgent. Thanks!', and Padma closes her eyes.

When she tries to sleep, and she can see is Pansy looming naked above her.

7.

Tomorrow, she visits the graves: they're all together, James Potter in one corner, Lily Potter in the other, and Harry James Potter in the middle. She smiles—they're watching over him, always, even though his and their deaths: the rose is white and she puts it on the fresh earth; she's glad that she came early in the morning, because later she almost runs into Ron who's carrying his and Harry's child. The girl looks sad.

controversy she was, birth to two male parents but Padma never cared…

She looks sad but she's a beautiful child.

Later, she visits the other part of the cemetery; and she misses Ron again as she passes Hermione's grave, but the little girl in his arms waves, and Ron doesn't see because of the tears in his eyes.

When she goes home to her apartment, she makes tea and sits down: the photo album is missing pictures, but she doesn't really mind. It's the ones with Pansy and herself that she looks at, and the ones with Parvati—and she makes a note to go visit her sister at St. Mungos, but she knows that she never will: she's not ready, yet—but it's really Pansy sipping from her wine glass and sitting at the piano.

—music tinkles.

'Pansy?' Padma asks. 'Can you play something more… uplifting?'

Pansy looks up—'Why?'—she asks, and stops playing to take a sip from her wine glass: 'even if I did it'd only be something temporary, so why bother at all?' and went back to her mournful tune. Padma sighs and shakes her head—Pansy's always cynical, and Padma thinks it's in her nature.

She can't help but smile, though—.

8.
She's organized to visit Parvati a week ago. She doesn't want to go, but she does.

9

St. Mungos resembles what Padma would call hell: the walls are bleached white, and the scent of antiseptic makes her sick. It's hell because everywhere she looks there's death—familiar death, so familiar—and sometimes there's a re-kindling of life, but not often: even though they live, they're still dead, in the heart and in the head. She sighs and walks up the reception.

The wizard sitting behind it's young—nineteen, maybe—and he looks up: 'Padma?' he blinks.

She stares at him for a minute—then it clicks: 'Neville? Neville Longbottom?' he grins at her.

'Yep!' he says, 'I got a job here after…—' he glances around '—the war—' he whispers, and then stops '—were you looking for someone in particular?'

She nods: 'My sister, Parvati; she's in one of the white rooms, I believe. But got moved…'

His eyes flash: sympathy. 'Let me check,' and he flips through the files.

Parvati's in room 179; the walls are white, padded—and Parvati lies in the middle of the room and smiles sometimes: other times she laughs, giggles, screams, pounds the walls and—Parvati looks up when Padma enters the room, her hair fanned over the floor: pure black, death black, nothing black. 'I knew you'd come,' she says, 'I saw it. You never believed me—you do know, don't you?'

Padma kneels next to her and touches her face: 'I'm sorry 'Vati,' she says, '…it was impossible to believe, at the start.'

Parvati smiled and clutches her hand: 'I know,' she says, 'don't worry. I knew that someday you'd believe.'

—she crosses her legs when she sits down next to Parvati, and holds her sister's hand gently: 'are they treating you… all right?' she whispers. But she knows that everything that's being said is monitored.

But when Padma looks down, Parvati's eyes are fading to white: and the hand clutching hers is no longer gentle and suddenly—

A lake. A flower. A diamond and power. Death, blood, shit and mud; water and fire, lightning and air, clouds swarming and: Padma, on the banks of the river, smiling and laughing and older. Black hair and blue silver dress, and Pansy standing behind her smiling with a wine glass in her hand. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Lick touched, a breast caressed.

'Yes!' Padma sighs gently, and Pansy. Touch. Touch. Touch lick kiss want be mine 'be mine!' be 'MINE!' and blood. Death. Blood. Death. Piano wine glass soft tinkling melody death. Macabre song and—

'God!' Padma yelps, and tries to let go of Parvati's hand but—alarm bells are ringing: 'Miss!' a doctor says gently, 'you need to let go of her hand. She'll be all right: she's just seen something; she just needs to calm down…'

Padma's thankful that she doesn't start vomiting until she reaches the toilet.

She's more thankful that she doesn't start crying until she reaches her apartment.

10.

On Tuesday she's recovered: she goes to visit Pansy in Azkaban.

11.

Azkaban is an island in the middle of nowhere—some say it bares resemblances to Alcatraz, but Padma doesn't think so—and the boat rocks and she feels sea sick, but she doesn't let that show. Her robes are perfect and she's got the warrant in her pocket: it wasn't that much trouble getting it off one of the lower ministry clerks. They were all busy fending reporters and dealing with the aftermath to do anything else.

'Pansy Parkinson?' the guard asks: 'yeah, she's in low security cell…'

Padma nods: the place has the memory of cold, but the Dementors are gone, but they say the curse of the Dementors is still there. Some people go insane just because of the solitary confinement: most of them are ex-death eaters, and Padma knows the truth. It's the loss of the dark mark's source of power, Voldemort, and without that source of power they begin to drain the person they're attached to.

They slowly go insane.

Padma remembers the first time she saw Pansy's mark, marring the planes of soft, pale flesh with the green tint that stains the skin around it. It struck fear into her heart at first—and Pansy just laughed and drew her attention away from it, and she soon forgets as Pansy licks her way up Padma's spine and—

When Padma scratched her arm, the chill reaching up her back, it was like she wasn't scratching it at all. Like it wasn't even her flesh, but she could feel the dig of her own nails and see the red marks they left behind. She sighed and scratched and other arm, and the guard opened the cell door.

It's not until she steps inside that she can smell the damp.

'Eli! Eli!' Pansy screamed, laughed and threw her head against the wall, 'lama sabachthani?'

Padma shakes her head: 'Pansy?' he asks.

They say she's insane. They saw everyone's insane, in Azkaban.

—Pansy looks up from the piano, and the final bars of Für Elise fade away.

'Yes?' she asks—sane.

When Pansy walks over to Padma, she clutches the back of her neck and kisses her hard. And all Padma can do is moan and collapse into Pansy's embrace, but that's not much: she's got scratches on the most part of her body not covered by clothes, and when she steps out of the room, she blinks away the tears. 'Ok,' she said to the guard, 'we can go now.' He eyes her up.

When she looks down she can see his pants tenting, and he's breathing heavily.

Padma sighs and slaps him when he tries to feel her up: 'Fuck off,' and she climbs onto the boat and sails away.

12.

Five years later, Pansy looked older. But that was the perfect illusion.

13.

Pansy looks ragged and pale when she climbs up into the boat with Padma. She clutches Pansy's hand though, and kisses her once and then they're float away into the fog; Padma doesn't remember much that happened—except for the kissing, and the fact that Pansy still tastes like strawberries, cream and copper: she can feel where Pansy chipped a tooth, in the back of her mouth.

But nobody knows that except Padma.

In Padma's apartment, she closes the curtains; 'You aren't really insane, are you?' Padma asks, as Pansy fiddles and grins at the answering machine sitting next to the couch. When she looks up again, the hair has fallen and shadows half of her face, and she's smirking and her eyes are fixed—

'What do you think?'

And Padma laughs and kisses her again.

Padma wakes up with Pansy clutching her thigh, and a pair of legs twined in hers: the light peeks through the curtains and through the transparency of the sheet Padma can see the curve of Pansy's breast. It's when her hair tickles across the back of Padma's neck that she really smiles, and Pansy whispers into Padma's ear: 'good morning my dear, did you have fun?'

When the curtains are fully parted, the sunlight bathes Padma's leg.

End.