For Padma's Sake

Parvati does not want to be here, sitting in the dining room facing her twin. She wants to be sitting in the Great Hall, chattering with Lavender and surrounded by a hundred voices. She wants to be sitting two tables away from Padma, far enough away that she doesn't feel responsible.

Parvati didn't want to leave. She wants to go back. She has been home for two days. She's ready to scream. But she can't. For Padma's sake.

Parvati and Padma ride home on the Hogwarts Express after their first year. A quickly diminishing pile of cauldron cakes lies on the seat between them. They are trying to see who can eat more. In the end Padma wins, and the two girls sit side by side nursing their stomachaches and laughing at their own foolishness.

Parvati is halfway through her meal, a delicious lunch prepared by their mother. Padma has eaten three spoonfuls of rice. Parvati wants to scream at her sister, scream at her and force her to eat. But she does not. Their father did that. It did nothing. She wants to plead with her sister, plead with her and beg her to eat. But she does not. Their mother did that. It did nothing. She knows she must tread carefully, knows she must not ask. She cannot ask. For Padma's sake.

The twins sit in a compartment with Lavender Brown and Lisa Turpin as the countryside whizzes by and they leave their third year behind them. They whisper about Sirius Black, sharing their fears. They cower together, comforting each other. Two sisters and two best friends, taking support and giving it in return.

Parvati wheedles. "Are you sure that's enough food?" And her sister smiles and explains that she ate too much pudding the night before. Parvati smiles as her chest tightens and a lump forms in her throat. She has heard this story too many times.

And it's back to the old game. The old exchange of empty smiles, the old charade. Parvati exclaims over the curry, telling Padma she should try it even though she's already full. Maybe it's the sincerity reflected in her sister's eyes, maybe it's only because she doesn't want to fight. Padma takes one dainty spoonful of the curry.

Parvati has won her battle. But victory is bittersweet. It is not enough. She tells herself she's done something, tells herself she's made a difference. She has to believe it. At the same time, she worries that she has gone too far, pushed too hard. She cannot risk being pushed away. She's the only one left. She cannot risk it. For Padma's sake.

The train is quieter than usual this year. The end of Triwizard Tournament has left the twins stunned. Padma does not let herself cry. She has to control it, control herself. She has to control something in the uncontrollable world. The Ravenclaw girl sits quietly, hands clasped in her lap. Parvati wants to cry and scream. She cried with Lavender earlier, cried with her friend over the crush they had shared, a crush who was now dead. Parvati cried about Cedric with Lavender. But Padma is struggling. Parvati can feel it. With Padma beside her, Parvati cannot say Cedric's name. Her sister needs her to be strong.

Parvati watches her sister from across the table. She sees the hollowness in her twin's eyes, is horrified by the way her sister's elbows bulge out from her skeletal arms. They are not beautiful. They are not graceful. But Padma does not see them as they are. She sees thick arms, thicker than Parvati's. The body Padma sees does not exist; it is no more real than the pudding she never ate.

Parvati wants to cry for what her sister has become. She wants to cry for all the words left unsaid. But she must be strong. She must not cry in front of Padma. She must not. For Padma's sake.

The girls sit quietly as the carriage draws away from Hogwarts. Parvati does not cry. She cried throughout the night, but she does not cry now. She spent the night next to Lavender, holding her hand. Hugging and being hugged in return. Crying and being cried upon. They soaked a pillow each. They forgave each other for giggling about Dumbledore's odd speeches and crooked nose. They confessed that they had always admired his half-moon spectacles. They were together.

Now Parvati cannot cry. She cannot scream. She cannot hurt where Padma can see. Parvati wants to reach out, to hold someone tight. She does not want to think about Dumbledore alone. But she cannot bring herself to take Padma's hand; she doesn't dare. Her own sweat would betray her. She does not dare put her arm around her sister. Her own shaking would betray her. Parvati watches her sister, loves her sister. But Padma has become untouchable. Padma is glass. Parvati cannot hold her for fear of breaking her. She cannot talk to her for fear of knocking her upside down.

Parvati wants to scream. She doesn't want to be here. She doesn't want to face this. She wants Lavender. She wants the Great Hall. She wants Padma back. She wants the Padma she can cry with, the Padma who can be strong for her. She wants the Padma whose world won't shatter if she, Parvati, is angry or sad. She wants someone she can share with, someone she can scream with. She wants to be able to be sad, be able to be angry; she wants to speak unguarded. But she cannot. She has to be strong. She has to be calm. She has to be happy. All for Padma's sake.