With One Breath

(Just Like) Starting Over

Parvati returned to the Tower the next morning, avoiding Lavender but finding Hermione. She took her aside but was surprised to find that Ron hadn’t, in fact, told his two friends about the previous day. She was unsurprised that Hermione had had her suspicions about her and Lavender’s recent activities.

“Well,” Hermione said at last, “I suppose things will be awkward for a time, but that will pass, I think. Are you—well, are you telling people?”

“No, not yet. I need to work some things out. Though, feel free to tell Harry if you like. I’m sure I don’t mind if we all know, but after that, I’m not sure.”

“I don’t tell him everything, you know. I think you should tell him yourself. Seamus always said that the more he said it, the more real it seemed.”

So Parvati found herself, over that day, taking aside Harry, who gave her a hug but seemed oddly surprised to find out that women could be gay, too, or at least women he knew personally; Ron, who hadn’t grasped the deeper meaning of the events of the previous day, but said, “It gets better” which Parvati thought was very kind of him; Neville, who seemed the least surprised of everyone except Padma, making Parvati think that he was much more observant than anyone gave him credit for; and Seamus and Dean, who immediately engulfed her in an enormous hug and promised her support and places to stay if coming out to her parents proved difficult. Hermione had been right, as usual. Talking to her own little circle had made her feel a bit stronger, though not brave enough, really, to talk to Lavender, who Parvati suspected was spending time with Ernie anyway, as she wasn’t around the Tower much at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday Parvati woke up later than the others and managed to forget the date entirely until she entered the Great Hall and saw owls flying everywhere and piles of red envelopes stacked next to the breakfast plates.

“Fuck me, it’s Valentines Day,” she whispered to herself. She sat down amongst the other sixth years, next to Dean, and tried to forget that everyone was attached except her.

Dean patted her hand. “How is it this morning?” he asked.

She smiled. She and Dean had been getting closer over the past two years, once his schoolboy crush had faded and the fallout from Seamus and Lavender’s break up had died down, but he seemed to have adopted her after she came out to him. “I was about the same as yesterday, perhaps a little better, until I came in here.”

Dean looked around. “Bit much, isn’t it?”

Parvati nodded. She looked around the table. Most of the fourth year and older girls had cards, even if they were mainly from friends. Ginny Weasley was cooing over something that looked oddly like a fish. Harry had his usual vast pile, though he had managed to locate Hermione’s within the chaos. Whatever her sister had said was clearly making Ron blush, while Neville’s valentine from Susan sent him into a fit of giggles.

Then Parvati suddenly realized that of the Gryffindors in her year, she was the only one not dating someone. How could this be? The boys were all beyond clueless about girls—she knew this for a fact—and even if it didn’t matter as much for Seamus and Dean, it was still true. Now all of that hard-earned knowledge about boys that one had gathered through reading Witch Weekly, listening to her mother, and bitter experience, was going to go to waste! She would have to start from square one! She had a vague idea that most girls who liked girls were not like her, but she fervently hoped this was just a stereotype. The entire business was infinitely discouraging.

Her glance fell on Lavender, who was smiling dreamily as she read a rather ornate card that Parvati presumed was from Ernie. Suddenly she was overwhelmed by a memory of how Lavender had smiled in her arms, and she couldn’t breathe. She leapt from the table, grabbed her bookbag, and ran from the Great Hall.

Parvati hid just outside the Great Hall, around the corner from the open door. She put her back against the wall and closed her eyes. Really, she had to stop running away from Gryffindor table every time something happened that she didn’t like. It was histrionic, and the way things were, she didn’t really want to draw any more attention to herself.

“Parvati?” a deep voice asked.

She opened her eyes to see Dean standing before her. She sighed, sinking further into the wall. “Yes?”

He handed her a few envelopes. “You forgot your Valentines.”

“I hadn’t noticed them, actually,” she replied, taking them from him. One from Frank, two from some younger boys she didn’t know, and a handmade one from Dean. Not even the usual “best friends” Valentine from Lavender, though she hadn’t really been expecting it. After all, she hadn’t sent one this year, either. She opened the one from Dean, a large sienna square with orange-red paper lace at the corners and matching lettering on the outside that read, “To the prettiest girl in the school”:

Our best friends have been throwing us together since our first year, and yet, we only became good friends this year. I wish even more now that I had been brave enough, two years ago, to ask you to that Ball. Perhaps things would have “come out” sooner? Be strong, my Valentine, and know that you always have my sympathetic ear. –Dean

She closed the card, smiling in spite of herself. “Thank you, Dean,” she whispered.

He put one hand on her shoulder. “D’ya need that ear now?”

“Well, just one question. Does it get any easier?”

Dean cocked his head. “Yes and no. It’s easier than denial, and takes a lot less energy. It is not easier than being straight. But I wouldn’t be straight any more than I’d be white. Would you?”

She shook her head.

Dean put his arm around her as they walked toward the Potions classroom. “We’re here for you, me and Seamus and your sister, but it’s the sort of thing you have to work out for yourself, what it means to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you get to decide for yourself how being a lesbian affects you and the people around you. Don’t feel you have to give in to any stereotypes or preconceptions. You’re still Parvati.”

She looked at Dean for a moment and realized that there was very little about him that could be called poufy. He was an artist, but a very down-to-earth one. Maybe, maybe she didn’t have to change, didn’t have to give up clothes or Divination or giggling or wearing her hair long or suddenly go out for the Quidditch team or any of that, just because she liked girls. She smiled. “Thank you, Dean, what a perfect thing to say,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

Dean smiled back, blushing just a little. “Well!” he said.

“Oi, are you trying to take my boyfriend away?” shouted a grinning Seamus who had mysteriously appeared before them.

“Ew, boy parts!” Parvati protested, giggling. “No thank you!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Parvati hummed to herself as she walked out of the North Tower. Easter holiday had just ended, and things seemed so much clearer now, since that horrid Valentine’s day. After a month of careful consideration, and a few too many unwelcome passes from boys at various parties, she decided to very casually mention her sexuality to the lynchpins of Hogwarts gossip—Dennis Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Orla Quirke, and Morag MacDougal—and before the day was over, the entire castle knew. She braced herself for the reaction, and sure, there were some comments made, but all in all, it wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined.

Then again, she rather liked the word “dyke”. It sounded hard, and harsh, and strong, words that might not have been used to describe her in the past. Now, though, she could feel her own strength growing inside her, in ways she couldn’t have anticipated. So the stupid boys in the hallways could call her “dyke” all they wanted, as far as she was concerned. Now that she didn’t want to date boys, she found herself caring a lot less about what they thought.

The girls were another matter of course, and initially comments questioning her femininity had been upsetting. Honestly, she was one of the girliest girls of her acquaintance! Then one day Padma had said something about being yourself, and Parvati looked at it an entirely new way. You wish, she would think to herself as she ignored their comments. You wish you could be your own person even half as much as I am. It still hurt, but she would say that over and over again to herself, and that made her feel a little better.

Things with Lavender were gradually improving. It still hurt a little to see her with Ernie, but she realized it was less because of a broken heart and more because she was convinced that she would not be walking arm in arm with anyone at Hogwarts. Besides, Lavender was definitely a better friend than a girlfriend. Not only was she straight, but she could be a bit high maintenance, and Parvati preferred to be the pampered one, thanks.

Trelawney had noted that her romance chart had suddenly, finally cleared up, but that there didn’t seem to be anything in the immediate future. Parvati reckoned that she had expended so much of her energy on boys—fruitlessly, as it turned out—that this was simply the karmic payback. But she did hope that out of all of this misery, she would get a sweet girlfriend, eventually.

Lost in thought, she turned the corner down the Charms corridor, and ran smack into Pansy Parkinson, precisely the person she wanted to see.

Parkinson pushed her away. “Look where you’re going, Patil, you stupid dyke.”

Parvati sighed, and brushed off her robes. But the Parkinson had her hand against the wall, blocking the way. “Let me pass,” she said firmly, looking Parkinson in the eye.

“I don’t know. Maybe you meant to do that. Trying to grab a quick feel, like the boys do?” She stepped closer, so that she was only a few inches away, and looked up at the taller Parvati. “We all know how that goes, don’t we, Patil?” she said, spitting a little as she said Parvati’s name.

Parvati wiped the saliva from her chin. “I said, let me pass,” she repeated.

“Make me,” she said.

So Parvati very calmly stepped back a bit and let her book bag fall to the floor. “Pansy Parkinson, you have been asking for this since we were four,” she said, as she pulled her arm back and gave her a swift left jab to the chin, just as her own father had taught her.

Parkinson rocked back on her heels, more in surprise than from the punch which was hard but a bit of a glancing blow, and then sat down, hard, on the floor. “You silly little twit!” she shrieked, rubbing the cut at the corner of her mouth. “I am a prefect! Twenty points for fighting!”

“Well, I am a prefect as well, and I will take twenty points from you, Parkinson, for provocation, and award ten points to Patil, for her problem-solving skills.”

Parvati looked up, and had never been so pleased to see Hermione Granger in all of her life.

“You can’t do that!” Parkinson protested.

“Watch me,” Hermione replied.

Parkinson sat and thought for a bit, and then said, “Well, perhaps we should just keep this matter between ourselves.” She cleared her throat a bit.

Hermione flashed a smug grin. “I thought you’d see it my way. Would you like a tissue? Hand up?”

“I have no need for Muggle paper,” Pansy said grouchily, but extended her hands, and the other girls reached down to help her to her feet. She picked up her bag and pushed past them, walking quickly down the hall to the girl’s room near the stairs.

Parvati turned to Hermione. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Hermione laughed. “Are you kidding? If I had known you had it in you, I would have asked you to punch that cow a long time ago!”

Parvati smiled back, surprised. She had always known that actions have unintended consequences, but she had assumed that they were usually negative. That there could be anything unexpected and positive in her future was very welcome news indeed.