Hello, Sir Nicholas

As she finished applying the last touches of makeup to her face, Parvati cursed fancying herself up like this. 'Like this' consisted of having to paint her face and hands in the blue and bronze of Ravenclaw and then attend the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Quidditch match dressed in an official Ravenclaw Quidditch uniform. She didn't know where or how her sister had gotten hold of the uniform, only that Padma was smirking like Peeves when she had delivered it to Parvati outside of Gryffindor Tower the previous evening.

She really didn't want to do this, she really didn't, for many reasons. First of which was that her fellow Gryffindors would no doubt lynch her when they saw how she was made up. Secondly, she was dressed the way she was because she and her rotten, stinking sister Padma had made a bet over who would be the first to land a date with a boy. Not just any boy though--none other then Gryffindor's own, Harry Potter.

She didn't know how Padma had done that, either, but done it she had. Then had the audacity to parade around the Gryffindor common room with him all of that weekend and everywhere else since then.

So now Parvati was going to be lynched because she couldn't land a date.

Kali drag and bind you to the deepest, darkest of all the nether realms for all eternity, Harry Potter! And the wretched, insufferable spawn you'll produce with that abominable sister of mine as well!

As she violently applied the last touches of makeup and then stood to make certain her 'costume' was in order, Parvati felt a cold, musty sensation slowly permeate every fiber of her body. Spinning around, she came face to face with the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick.

"Ahhhhhhhh!" Parvati exclaimed as she stumbled backwards into her dressing table.

"Good Heavens!" Sir Nicholas exclaimed at the same time, fluttering upwards in shock, his nearly decapitated head narrowly maintaining its perch upon his neck. "Miss Patil, you are aware you are out of bounds don't you? I realize you and your sister are quite close, but I am afraid I must report this infraction to Professor McGonagall."

"Sir Nicholas," Parvati hissed as she struggled to regain her composure. "It's me! Parvati!"

Taking a moment to examine the girl before her, he exclaimed with a mix of surprise and embarrassment, "I say, Miss Patil, I do apologize. You do bear a remarkable resemblance to your sister, and the way you're dressed, I couldn't help but think..."

"That Padma had broken into Gryffindor Tower?" Parvati said, finishing his sentence.

"Exactly, Miss Patil," Sir Nicholas said. "Exactly."

"Right idea, Sir Nicholas," Parvati said in a knowing fashion, "wrong time."

"What's that, my dear?" Sir Nicholas asked.

"Nothing, never mind," Parvati told him. "So what can I do for you, Sir Nicholas? Or do you normally wander around the girls' dormitories when nobody is about?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that Miss Patil," Sir Nicholas said earnestly, hoping to assuage her concerns. "Miss Brown was asking after you on her way to the Quidditch pitch. I happened to overhear her remark and offered to check up on you, as it were, and here I am. I did not think for an instant I would be confusing you for your sister."

Upon hearing this, Parvati's eyes bulged and her shoulders sagged. "Great, now she's got Lavender in on the joke."

"What's that, Miss Patil?" Sir Nicholas asked, not having heard what she said.

"It was nothing, Sir Nicholas," Parvati told him. "And please, call me Parvati."

"Only if you agree to call me Nicholas," the Gryffindor ghost told her with a nervous smile. "It gets so tedious, you know? Everyone calls you Sir or Nick or even Nearly Headless Nick." The ghost let go with an exaggerated shudder at this last nickname. "It all gets so tedious at times."

Feeling overcome, Parvati suddenly felt her entire body start to not only sag, but shake as well. Or at least that's what it felt like to her.

"Are you all right my dear?" Sir Nicholas asked.

"No, but I'll live, Sir...I mean, Nicholas," Parvati said, quickly correcting the mistake she almost made with Gryffindor Tower's resident spirit.

"If you don't mind an old ghost's foolish question, why exactly are you dressed up in such outlandish attire?" Parvati heard the ghost inquire of her.

This only seemed to further dampen her resolve and without warning, she broke into tears.

"Oh my!" Sir Nicholas exclaimed. "Please don't cry, my dear. I'm so terribly sorry if I've said something to distress you."

This attempt at calming the sixth year Gryffindor seemed to only darken her mood as the tears falling down her cheeks intensified. The only thing maintaining the makeup on her face was the waterproofing charm she had placed on her face. This however, was completely lost on Parvati as she cried her heart out.

"Come, come, my dear," Sir Nicholas said, "let's sit down, shall we? We don't want to be falling to the floor and hurting ourselves, do we?"

This advice had the effect of momentarily breaking Parvati out of her misery, forcing her to look up at the ethereal figure floating before her. With halting, lurching steps, Parvati allowed the spirit to guide her over to her bed, where she simply climbed in and lay back against her pillows, still wearing her 'costume'. She didn't object when Sir Nicholas floated into bed beside her, albeit in a seated position, leaning back against one of the posts to her bed.

"Now, my good friend Parvati, tell your good friend Nicholas what this is all about," Sir Nicholas said with what he hoped passed for a soothing tone of voice.

At her newly found friend's urging, Parvati told him of how she and her sister had made a bet to woo Harry Potter and how the loser would have to suffer whatever humiliation the winner decreed.

"I don't understand, Parvati," Nicholas interjected. "Why did you accept such a wager? I didn't think you were interested in Harry in a romantic fashion."

"Well," Parvati grudgingly admitted, "he has filled out a bit since fourth year. And I figured since he and I are in the same house and the same classes, I'd stand a better chance of winning."

"My dear," Sir Nicholas said sternly, "for someone who is reported to be so knowledgeable about Divination, you should know that love is not for winning or losing. Matters of the heart are reserved for fate and destiny. Not some random chance of the dice."

Parvati, who had been drying her eyes, looked at Sir Nicholas in wonder and amazement. "How is it that you know so much about love?"

"After five centuries at Hogwarts, surrounded by hormonally challenged teenagers, you learn a few things about the human condition," Sir Nicholas replied rather dryly. "And it's not like I have much else to do, being a ghost and all."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry, Sir Nicholas," Parvati sobbed. "That was so horribly rude of me."

"There, there, it's quite alright," Sir Nicholas said soothingly. "After all, it's not your fault the axe that killed me didn't cut off my head altogether."

"Er, right," Parvati whispered. "Nicholas, was there ever a Madam de Mimsy Porpington?"

Sir Nicholas sat there for several minutes, looking pensive. Finally looking up, he said, "You know, Parvati, I believe you're the first person, since I became the Gryffindor ghost, to ask if I was ever married." He smiled at her for this and she smiled in return. "Alas," he continued, "there was no Madam de Mimsy Porpington."

"I'm so sorry," Parvati offered, sitting up and reaching out her hand to comfort Sir Nicholas, not remembering he was a ghost. She only remembered when her flesh made contact with his etherealness, but even this did not make her remove her hand from where it sat on Sir Nicholas' hand.

"Erm, Parvati," Sir Nicholas whispered with a cautious tone, "you are aware I can't quite feel you when you do that?"

"Do you mean you can't feel anything at all?" Parvati inquired.

"Well, I can sense that your hand is there," Sir Nicholas responded, "but I don't feel it. Not in the sense you feel your shoes upon your feet, or a quill in your hand when you write an essay."

"It must be lonely," Parvati murmured, "being a ghost."

"It can be melancholic at times," Sir Nicholas agreed, "but I choose to be optimistic. Every year I see a new group of students sorted into Gryffindor and then get to watch them learn and grow and become adults. To me it seems like only yesterday you were walking through the great hall and waiting anxiously to be sorted."

Parvati couldn't help but laugh at that particular memory. "I remember that. I was so scared. Little did I know that I'd be sorted with Harry Potter or that I'd be separated from Padma." At that recollection, Parvati's face fell and she appeared to be on the verge of another round of tears.

"It's not so bad ,you know," Sir Nicholas said.

"Oh?" Parvati exhaled.

"Quite so," Sir Nicholas told her. "Quite so, indeed. Perhaps young Potter's liaison with your sister will afford you new opportunities and new horizons that an amorous relationship would not permit."

"Such as?" Parvati asked with desperate longing in her voice.

"Who can say, my sweet little young one. Who can say?" Sir Nicholas said, realizing as the words left his translucent mouth that he sounded like a pompous windbag.

Parvati apparently came to the same realization and as the two locked eyes, they broke out into a uproarious bout of laughter. Parvati's tears of sorrow were quickly replaced by tears of mirth and the two sat there for several minutes laughing at something neither one of them could suitably explain.

After their laughter faded away, the two settled into a comfortable silence that was almost instantly shattered by the sound of a crowd roaring in the distance.

"Oh, sweet Merlin!" Parvati snarled. "I forgot about the match. If I don't get out there now, Padma will have my head on a platter...oh no! Oh, Nicolas, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking!"

"Hush, Parvati," Sir Nicholas said soothing. "Hush, it's all right. You've had a trying time of it for the last few days, and I know you didn't speak out of malice."

"Thank you Nicholas," Parvati said with what appeared to be a blush through all the heavy makeup she was wearing.

"No, Parvati, thank you," Nicholas declared. "This has been one of the nicest days I can remember since I died and I want you to know how much that means to me."

Parvati smile a sweet smile and replied, "It means a lot to me as well, Nicholas. Do you think that maybe we could do this again sometime? Talk, I mean, not have you spy on me in my dormitory."

Sir Nicholas couldn't help but chuckle at that, "Of course, my dear. Although I have to admit I was desperately looking forward to you painting yourself up again."

"Oh, you!" Parvati scolded. "You know what I meant. But perhaps if you behave, I might let you help me plot revenge on my sister for getting me into this outfit."

"That would be splendid, my dear," Sir Nicholas answered.

As she hoped out of her bed to make her way to the door, Parvati stopped where Sir Nicolas was floating and leaned down to wrap her arms around the kindhearted ghost who had lifted her spirits. "Thank you for the talk, Nicholas. Padma may have Harry, but I think I got the better deal in you."

"Oh, you young ladies are all alike," Sir Nicholas joked. "Tease, flirt and beguile and then you run off for the first professional Gobstones player that comes along"

"Oh, you!" Parvati squealed as she pretended to slap at his arm. "I'll be back, Nicholas, I promise."

"As I will, my dear, as will I," Nicholas promised in return.

And with that, Parvati bolted from the room to make her way to the Quidditch pitch as fast as she could so that she could take the ritual hazing she knew she would be receiving from her housemates. A moment later however, she stuck her head back into her dormitory and said to Sir Nicholas, "Nicholas, are you doing anything at the moment?"

"Aside from floating around your bedroom?" Sir Nicholas asked. "No, I can't say that I am."

"Well then," Parvati continued, "would you care to escort a young lady, full of feminine charm and Gryffindor courage to today's Quidditch match?"

The smile on Sir Nicholas' face warmed Parvati's heart as he said, "I would be delighted to, mademoiselle, I would be simply delighted."

"You know, Nicholas," Parvati commented as they made their way down the stairs to the common room, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"As do I, Parvati," Sir Nicholas agreed, "as do I."

When they arrived at the Quidditch pitch, Parvati decidedly ignored the gaping stares and muttered comments from her housemates as she and Sir Nicholas took their seats in the Gryffindor section of the stands. Instead she merely leaned in, ever so slightly, to Sir Nicholas, and settled down to enjoy the match.

Later that evening, after she had explained herself to her housemates and then washed off the makeup she had covered herself with, she took in a late evening stroll with Sir Nicholas.

"Thank you for today, Nicholas," Parvati said, as they wandered aimlessly through the castle. "I had a lot of fun."

"Do you know, Parvati," Sir Nicholas said as they approached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, "I did too. Thank you for inviting me to the match."

"You're quite welcome, Nicholas," Parvati told him. "I'm glad you agreed to come."

"As am I," Sir Nicholas told the young lady walking besides him, "but I'm more pleased that Miss Brown asked me to check on you beforehand. I never thought I would make a new friend in the process."

As they came to a stop before the portrait of the Fat Lady, Parvati stopped and turned to face Sir Nicholas. "Neither did I, Nicholas, neither did I." And with that, Parvati reached up to give Sir Nicholas a peck on the cheek before retreating into the tower for the evening.

For his part, Sir Nicholas merely floated there feeling befuddled as he reached up to touch the spot on his cheek where Parvati had kissed him. It would be several hours before he moved from that spot as he took the time to enjoy the warmth of her flesh on his non-corporeal essence.

Finally, when he did float away, he came to the conclusion that he was one very lucky ghost.

A century and a half later, as Sir Nicholas floated through the castle after helping to see the students off on their summer vacation, he heard a singsong voice call out to him from behind, "Hello again, my sweet Nicholas, I told you I'd be back." And with that, the ghosts of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington and Parvati Patil floated off together into the mysterious unknowns of eternity.

Author's note: I wrote this in response to the OTP Valentine's Day challenge over at Fiction Alley.