racetrack knows you wank

Fic: Switch

2008-01-03T20:54:14Z

Title: Switch
Characters: Padma Patil, Theodore Nott, various other Slytherins
Summary: Blame Whit. This is another older fic, with the prompt: What if your character had been in another House? At the time, all the Slytherins were suffering due to their involvement in the Red Death group, and this was Padma involved.
Rating:

Padma Patil was not impressed.

As interruptions went, there were worse ways to be frozen than standing triumphantly over a bleeding, silently screaming Ernie Macmillan.

"Pathetic waste of a pureblood!" she'd spat just seconds before Dumbledore rendered her Cruciatus Curse null. Macmillan brandished his wand like an amateur, like a Muggle magician performing a show, and because of it, he'd wasted precious seconds. Seconds that Padma exploited. She watched his body crumple, limbs contract, muscles twitch with only mild fascination.

His screams were only minutely satisfactory. Not one member of the Red Death group noticed her victory; most of them were cowering to Potter's band of miscreants. Theodore Nott truckled beneath a Hufflepuff (a Hufflepuff, for Salazar's sake!), Draco Malfoy turned in the air at Potter's command (no big surprise there; Malfoy was less than capable on his best days), Pansy Parkinson hid under a table (did she ever really do anything other than play dress up?).

The Dark Lord was using them in the least productive manner. Surely, the attacks would have been best traced only to murmured voices and shadows. Letting Dumbledore and Potter know exactly who they were seemed, well, brainless, and brainless was not something Padma Patil did well.

If there was one thing that Padma knew, it was how to disentangle herself from scandal. However, this would take artifice. Finesse was something that only Theodore Nott (despite his myriad other weaknesses) could handle. And that meant convincing him. Convincing him meant turning him away from Draco Malfoy and most of the other Slytherins.

When Padma was convinced of her ratiocination, there was no deterring her. Your logic would turn quickly in the face of her arguments. One look at the sureness on her face had changed many a Slytherin's mind.

Of course, Theodore Nott would prove difficult; he always did.

"Draco wouldn't know a thestral's arse from his own," she told him, a grand smirk on her lips. If there was one thing she enjoyed more than logic, it was ripping Malfoy to shreds. "His leadership is counter-productive. He's never had to work very hard at his hypocrisy, and I'm afraid it's time for new direction."

Theodore quirked a lazy brow at her. He relaxed, stretching his legs, fingers lightly tapping the arms of his chair. "Do go on, dear Padma. I'm rather interested in this new management."

"Subterfuge should only be used when the truth cannot be exploited, and I believe - " Two words never meant so much as 'I believe' coming from Padma's lips " - the truth is more dangerous to Potter than any distortion Draco could manage. I think we should continue with the Dark Lord's training, little by little. This time, we contain it, only vaguely keeping it secret. The two of us could have Slytherin house whipped into shape in no time."

"But how is the question, Padma. You're not telling me anything I haven't already thought myself."

Blunt as usual, Theodore, Padma thought. The smirk curled into her cheek, making the smallest dimple noticeable.

"We discredit Draco, use his weaknesses. He can't deny them, considering I, as well as others, have much proof of his faults. Potter wouldn't dream of assisting him. If Draco turns on us, Potter would think it was a plot. Draco will have no where to go, but back into OUR fold."

"I see several flaws in your plan, Padma. The first is quite obvious: Draco has no credit. Among the Slytherins, sure, his name means something. His father is one of the Dark Lord's Right-Hand me-"

Padma silenced him, a single finger pressed against his lips. As she spoke, her gaze shifted from her finger to his lips, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, that one strand of hair that had fallen in his eye. "Shhh. His father is not the Dark Lord's only most trusted Death Eater."

She watched as his face flushed, his hand reaching up to shove hers away. Her smirk turned angelic, canine digging into her bottom lip. "Oh, dear. I've embarrassed you, haven't I?"

He merely smiled that bland smile of his, watching her carefully, his colouring returning. She heaved a sigh, looking positively stricken. "I've forgotten that you don't approve of such handling."

"You're playing in the dirt, Padma. Have you forgotten how compulsive I am?" He was teasing her; that was always a good sign.

"Oh, I assure you that my hands will remain quite clean. And yours, too."

This got his attention. Padma halfway suspected that Theodore didn't want his hands soiled, and not for sanitary reasons. Most of the time, his nose was buried in a book. While she couldn't find fault in that, something always nagged at her. Something almost... Muggle at times. If she could just get proof, Theodore would be wrapped around her finger.

"Unfortunately for poor Draco Malfoy, we'll need chicanery. Most of the students are already aware of the level of imbecile he is, so we have no choice but to inject a bit of old-fashioned lies into it. Oh, this will take some time; after all, well-planned deceit isn't something you can expect to yield overnight."

Theodore looked skeptical, unwilling to damage the thin thread of alliance between Malfoy and Nott. After all, the children of criminals most often banded together in similar times.

"I realize that you have some sort of bond with Draco, but he's out-survived his uses. He's pushed Slytherin House to a precipice, and if someone capable does not take control, we will fail." She paused only for a moment, dropping all sweetness and smiles. "Failure is not an option."

Now that she had his attention (and she was quite sure by the intensity in his eyes), Padma's feminine wiles would have to take control. She loathed this part only a little, and only when Theodore was the one who resisted. She leaned forward, propping her head up with the heel of her hand. Her voice seemed to drop a register, breathy and whispered. "You're not the only one, Theodore, who thinks the Dark Lord acted impulsively. I must confess I thought it too soon... too naked."

At the words, his thin fingers crushed the bones in her wrists, and she was pulled to her feet.

Through a corridor. Up and down stairs. Spiraling and double backing. The Slytherin dorm rooms could only be reached through this maze, and Padma was delighted when he turns right. This led to the boys' dormitories, as she was well aware of. Blaise Zabini could be persuaded quite easily.

The room was cold, almost sterile, save Crabbe and Goyle's dominions. When he dropped her hand suddenly, she was not at all surprised. She'd anticipated his insistence on privacy. More than anticipated, she counted on it. Her skin was flush with knowledge: he'd let a weakness slip.

"How shall we consummate this plan?" He didn't blush as he spoke, and her eyes narrowed. She has never heard him speak this way, and it's only a little disconcerting. To her credit, Padma didn't bat an eyelash. Instead, she strode across the room toward him, moving her hips in wide arcs. It's a calculated move, and she is certain he's aware of it.

"Interesting choice of words, darling Theodore." Padma's voice was as heavy with innuendo as her eyelids as she stepped up to him. Hands slid up his chest, lips hovered near his.

And just as suddenly, her hands were gone. His face only changed for the smallest of split seconds, and then he was unreadable once more.

"I've always been verbose, and you've always been more direct than you are right now. What are you suggesting, Padma?" His voice had dropped call pretense, and he was eyeing her ferally.

Only mildly put off, Padma straightened, a determined look upon her face. She moved to Theodore's bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back on her elbows. "I'm suggesting our own alliance, one that will result in more than just alleviating Draco Malfoy from his prestigious position. I'm suggesting that you and I learn to lean on each other, quite literally at times. You and I are indisputably the most intelligent in Slytherin House - and before you say anything, I'm aware we're not highly considered for our intelligence - not to mention most of this school. We're cunning because we use it against others, and I think it's high time that we stop using it against each other."

When she was finished, she stared at him, unblinking. Some little voice in the back of her head nagged her, told her that he'd never go for it, but she shoved that down quickly. There'd be time to think about that later.

He held his silence for a full ten minutes, and Padma knew he was letting her stew, letting it writhe inside her until she pushed him. But she merely watched him, expressionless. It would have been smart given circumstances, but Padma Patil was a very patient witch, and so her gaze never broke from his face.

"I accept," Theodore replied, but not without some hesitation. Padma could see the wheels in his head turning round. Silly things, really, but she respected him for it.

She held out her hand, waiting as he was forced to cross the room to her. When that delicate hand wrapped around hers, she gave it a yank, pulling him down to her, hot breath on his lips, hair tickling her forehead. "You remember the old adage, don't you? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. I think we're about to get as close as enemies can get."

Fic: More

2008-01-03T20:54:13Z

Title: More
Characters: Lavender Brown, Padma Patil
Summary: andreamb asked for this a while ago, and I think there's just not enough femmeslash in this world. For real.
Rating: PG13

"...Roger Davies is downstairs, Padma."

Momentarily distracted, Padma glanced up from her book, The Merlin Code. Blinking rather languidly, she stretched on her bed, propping her elbow up. Tugging her long braid over her shoulder, she finally said, "…so?"

"Your mum and dad were talking about his… prospects. How old fashioned can they get?" Lavender asked, rolling her eyes and throwing herself down on the bed in front of Padma. Luckily, she had been expecting this and pulled her book out from under the Gryffindor in the nick of time.

"Is that why you went trouncing down the stairs like a herd of hippogriffs trampling a million Malfoys?" came Padma's brusque reply.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Well, they're Indian, Lavender. After all these years, you should know how old fashioned they can be. Don't you remember the time they tied Parvati's legs to the -"

"No, the other question; the unspoken one." Lavender's legs were crossed at the ankles, swinging from side to side as the girl splayed out on her stomach on Padma's bed.

"I'm sorry; I don't speak Witch Weekly. You'll have to be more specific." The Ravenclaw knew where this was going. She'd known the moment Lavender opened her pretty mouth and uttered the words: Roger Davies. Roger was the last person Padma wanted to explain about.

"It sounded like he was asking your parents for your hand in marriage or something. You're not telling us something without… telling us something, are you? You're not marrying Roger Davies, are you?" There were stars in Lavender's eyes, the far away, day-dreaming look on her face as she imagined Padma's wedding, romantic holidays, and, of course, one of Roger's good looking cousin's "or Merlin! Brother!) sweeping Lavender off her feet.

Quickly squashing those dreams, Padma dismissed it, "Calm down. He's only just asked me out on one date, that's all."

In a flail of arms and legs, Lavender was on her knees in front of Padma, who had scooted so far back on her bed that she was squished between Lavender and the head board. She pressed her feet against the other girl's knees to keep her at a distance. There was no telling what could happen if Lavender got riled up.

"MERLIN, PADMA PREMALA PATIL! YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THAT ROGER DAVIES ASKED YOU OUT! ROGER DAVIES! THIS IS BRILLIANT! "

Padma winced, slapping her hands to her ears. "This is why I didn't tell you," she replied loudly, blinking and narrowing her eyes. Lavender looked momentarily hurt, and Padma prayed the girl wouldn't cry. She always cried so easily. "I knew you'd get like this!"

Then, "You're going to snog Roger Davies, you know," Lavender chimed in smugly, grinning from ear to ear. She pulled herself next to Padma at the head of her bed and slid her arm around her waist. "Do you even know how to snog? Properly, and not from books, I mean."

"Of course, I do," Padma snapped, folding her arms across her chest like a petulant child. She frowned darkly, jaw twitching slightly. Padma could hear Lavender rolling her eyes, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Lavender was watching her intently. Shifting nervously, she barked, "What are you looking at? Stop looking at me like that!"

Lavender only grinned, leaning against Padma's side, looking up flirtatiously and batting her eyelashes. Grimacing, the darker girl pushed away from the blonde, scooting along the bed to the foot.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Come on," Lavender replied, her pointer now daintily sliding into the corner of her mouth. Padma could see her tongue roll lazily around the tip, and her mind raced at what Lavender exactly wanted her to come on. "It's not that bad. Vati and I have practiced."

Padma's eyes bulged, her jaw going slack. Then a moue of disgust slammed into her face. She pulled her knees to her chest. A deadpan voice answered. "Are you mad?"

Lavender laughed them, crawling to the other side of the bed. Padma leaned back, trying to put as much distance between her and Lavender. Her face was hovering too close to Padma's.

"Just close your eyes, and pretend I'm Roger."

"You smell like a flower garden; Roger does not smell like a flower garden."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, plug your nose then!"

"This is utterly ridiculous! I'm not going to kiss you, let alone snog you!" Padma rolled her eyes, not realizing that Lavender would take that momentarily lapse of eye contact to close the distance between them.

And suddenly, Padma could taste strawberries. She stared up at the ceiling, watching the little swirls of paint, even though her lips puckered against Lavender's slightly. She did not pull away either.

Then her eyes closed, and Lavender's lips were so soft and warm. Images of Parvati and Lavender doing this in Parvati's bedroom fluttered into Padma's mind, and she shook her head, breaking the peck.

"That wasn't so bad, Padma." Lavender was grinning incorrigibly. Her eyes were squinty, and her face looked rather blurry this close up. "Again."

With some hesitancy, Padma leaned down, pressing her lips firmly against Lavender's, then it was Lavender's turn to shake her head. "Like this, Padma darling."

The blonde pulled back just enough so Padma could watch. Her eyelids practically glided closed, her pink lips puckering and parting slightly.

"See? Now it's your turn."

Padma gave her a skeptical look. There was no way she could pull that off. She didn't even have pink lips or lip gloss or… She shut her eyes, inclining her chin only the slightest bit upward. It was easy for her mouth to open, given the rather nervous way her lips were trembling. When she swallowed, she licked her lips. Lavender giggled.

"Very good, Padma. You're a fast learner! Do it again," she instructed. Padma really hoped she got a gold star later. Quite literally.

Doing as she was told, Padma felt much more relaxed, not having to have any contact with Lavender's mouth. But still... something wasn't right. Not in her gut anyway. Her throat had an odd bulge. Her lips parted again, eyebrows raising only the slightest tick.

She could hear Lavender shifting on the bed, drawing nearer. It was slow, and it sent a shot of impatient through her spine. If she was going to teach Padma how to do this, she'd better not make her wait. Her lip curled slightly in an impetuous smirk.

Lavender's mouth was open this time, and it was wetter than before. The girl massaged her lips against Padma's, alternating between parting her lips and compressing them with Padma's.

And she wasn't stopping.

Lavender continued. Quickening the pace. Slowing them down. Her long fingernails trailed along Padma's cheek bones down to her throat, which made Padma shiver, shoulders shrugged from side to side.

"Now," Lavender breathed into Padma's open mouth. Opening her eyes, Padma leaned her forehead against the other girl's quite out of breath. She only nodded, waiting for Lavender's further instruction. No wonder I've caught all those students in the Astronomy Tower… "This will seem weird after first, darling. Don't worry, it's always weird the first time you snog a new person. You'll get used to it."

If she hadn't been anxious before, Padma was definitely nervous now. She fidgeted with her robes, fingers twisting around the fabric. Before Padma could finish her thought, Lavender's lips were pressing against hers again, more insistent, more demanding than before.

And then there was something warm and wet on Padma's lips. It was soft, but there was something odd about the way it felt that a slow moving shudder crawled up Padma's spine. It spiraled when Padma felt her own tongue working to meet Lavender's.

Their lips continued to move, pressing and demanding. Their tongues circled, dueled, fought for control. Lavender slid her arm around Padma's waist, pulling her closer and closer until Padma could feel the girl's breasts against her own. And for some reason, Padma groaned at the friction of Lavender's hand gripping her upper thigh. Lavender made an appreciative noise and rewarded her with a thumb against Padma's nipple through her clothing. Padma was definitely starting to enjoy this, and she thought it might actually be the gold star she was hoping for.

Even if it was Lavender.

Padma's hands tentatively reached out, flexing at Lavender's waist as if she didn't know what to do with them. And she really didn't. She always assumed that it would be instinctual, and, while her instincts were telling her to hold onto Lavender's waist, she wasn't certain she should. Lavender seemed to understand and pulled her hand away from Padma's breast to lead Padma's hands to her waist.

And all the while, they were still kissing. Growing more confident, Padma moved forward, forcing Lavender to shrink in front of her a little so that Padma was now the dominant one. Lavender groaned into Padma's mouth, which sent Padma's senses reeling. Her fingers curled around Lavender's hip, pulling her closer, demanding.

Suddenly, Lavender was up and off the bed. Padma was left, eyes closed, panting. Her lips were pink and swollen. When she opened her eyes, she watched Lavender slipping out of the room. Dumbfounded and frustrated, Padma gawked.

"First rule of kissing, Padma… Always leave them wanting more." She smiled deviously and closed Padma's door.

Fic: Judas (Padma Patil/Theodore Nott)

2008-01-03T20:54:12Z

Title: Judas
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Padma Patil, Theodore Nott
Word Count 1031
Author's Note: alsoknownas gave me a plot bunny. Actually, she gave me quite a few, and I finished two of them. This one is the more WTF of the two. Idea: Take your character and put them in a Post Apocalyptic World. Ie., Voldemort wins. Well, in a post apocalyptic world, Harry would most likely be dead, or stripped of his powers (and GAH, the PLOT BUNNIES FOR THAT), so I took Padma and did this:

The raids were methodical and exacting. By now, Padma knew what to expect. The house in Liverpool had been foraged through so many times that she'd taken to organizing it in the most efficient manner for them. The less time the Light Detectors spent in her home, the better. They always trifled through her books.

With her legs tucked beneath her, Padma glanced over the top of the book balancing in her lap, expressionless. It was better when one didn't show them the slightest bit worried. The hooded figures did their job, and she, certainly, understood how these things worked; after all, she'd seen the paperwork. Hell, she'd filed it. That didn't stop the Light Detectors from traipsing into her home once a month.

In the beginning, there had been nervousness. There had never been anything to hide, but those invasions would last for days. Her house had been left in shambles. It was those times when she was most grateful that she was a pureblood whose magic had not been stripped away.

It also helped that sympathy was not something that Padma Patil gave anymore.

Sure, it was hard for a moment when Parvati had been dragged away from her, kicking and screaming against the Dementors until she'd slacked in their grasp, submitting to poisonous thoughts and horrified memories. One would have thought the creatures had overcome Padma as well.

But they had, in a way, for it was Padma who turned her own sister in. It was an agreement she'd made with an old friend. He'd spare her from being experimented on, if she turned in bigger fish than the witch who'd created some of the brutal curses and hexes that His Death Eaters were suffering from. One by one, Potter's allies were mysteriously taken from their Unplottable locations.

She'd become something of a war hero or a cautionary tale, depending on one's skewed version of events. Padma would just say she was just too greedy, too tired, too scared, too angry to have committed to a side. That was the one thing about Ravenclaws; wit and learning wasn't a personality trait. Not like all the rest of the Houses.

War was waste. The sooner it was over, the better, and that was her motto.

Waste was the filth in Diagon Alley these days. Filth was the broken Light forces, wading in their own stink. They could have risen above it, saved a little of their pride, but not one of them thought that turning their backside on the Light was a suitable way of life. Padma thought it was Elysium.

Once she'd fallen into lassitude, Theodore Nott had proved himself to be quite the ally.

She never read that book anymore. It was the only book in the house she might have been worried about, if she didn't have the proper paperwork for it. Theodore had made sure of that. A compendium of Shakespeare's written works had no place in a pureblood's home, but considering his kindness for it, he'd secured authorization. That coupled with his inscription (and signature) fastened her safety.

A lazy twist of her wand brought the paperwork into her hands. The Light Detectors were so predictable. Their alert sparks went off monthly. The same book, the same outcome, the same embarrassed muttering. Pardon me, Miss Patil, we didn't know you were intimate with Nott.

"I wouldn't call it intimate; I'd call it consorting."

No, Padma hadn't made sense in a long time, but it was for the best really. No one was in their right mind anymore. When ennui failed her, she always had dogma to steady her. Routines made her (non)life possible. Every day, it was the same: wake, work, sleep.

Oh, and she reread the Dark Lord's credenda. It was interesting, the manner of words He chose, and so she found herself returning to it over and over again. That was always when Theodore would appear.

Every night, it was the same, like clockwork. A loud Crack! always signaled his arrival, of course. No member of His Glitterati ever really sparkled, not when it counted anyway. They all had that strange glassy-eyed stare until the rush of green blitz seemed to make them come alive, and only then.

His face was always as vanilla as her shampoo. She wasn't fooled by his condition; it always started the same. Her soft words were contrasted by her clipped tones; his affections seemingly went undermined by the look in his eye. It was when she wrapped whispers around the Dark Lord's words that he seemed alive.

'It's only in your darkest hour, that you dream of Death. I have Overcome.'

And when Padma spoke the words, she sounded strangely dull, not at all like her former self. She stared at Theodore placidly until he dropped to his knees. Every time he'd appear, she knew another one of her former friends was dead. She also knew that Theodore had been the one dispatched to do it.

He didn't usually prostrate himself.

"Who was it this time?"

When there was no answer, Padma slowly sank to her knees. For the first time in years, Padma felt real fear. Her fingers went to his shoulder. He felt cold to the touch; he must have been up north. Up north meant…

"You didn't…"

There was still no reply, and that sinking feeling magnified. North meant Azkaban. Azkaban meant…

Parvati.

When he looked back up at her, his eyes were red. There was emotion there that hadn't been there in years. It was odd to her that he was looking at her so peculiarly. And when he put his arms around her, she felt him shuddering. Her eyes darted to the encyclopedia-sized book on the shelf.

Unsurprisingly, once the fear was gone, Padma couldn't feel anything.

She stiffened then, unlocking his embrace. She lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her again. Padma gave him a calm, calculating look. It was the same look she gave him she handed him the morning paperwork or his tea or gave him the location of another one of her former cohorts.

"Well, there's not much Light left, is there? I've done my job well."

Fic: Directions

2008-01-03T20:54:12Z

Title: Directions
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Padma Patil, Theodore Nott
Word Count: 726
Summary: It's seventh year, Ancient Runes class. Theodore and Padma get paired up together. Slice of life from the Alternative Universe that Whit and I had been working on. Predominantly set around the end of Mask of the Red Death.
Rating: PG

Ancient Runes was her second favourite class. The level of difficulty increased practically from moment to moment, but she found that she loved the challenge. Professor Bifrost's animated lessons encouraged her.

By the end of seventh year, they'd managed to become experts it seemed. And to test them, they were paired with a new partner, one they'd never been matched with during lessons before.

Padma's stomach twisted and turned; she'd been coupled with Theodore Nott.

Theodore had always been a bit of a puzzle, an enigma. The last year had found him turning to the side of Light, evening supplying Harry Potter with information on the remaining Red Death members' plotting. In her heart, Padma hoped against hope that it wasn't a farce, that Theodore's general goodness had overtaken him. Little by little, she watched how he smiled more, how he no longer flinched quite as often when she touched him.

They sat on opposite sides of the double desk, close enough to know the other was there, even smell the other's scent, but not close enough to look conspicuous.

Or so they thought.

In her nervousness not to appear too excited, her quill suddenly snapped, ink spilling onto her fingers. Her hand dipped beneath the table, toward her robe pocket, to retrieve her wand to clean up after herself.

Her fingers brushed other fingers, fingers that weren't her own.

Her hand froze beneath the desk, afraid that she might be imagining it. But the pads of Theodore's fingers were tracing her knuckles, her nails, the veins on the back of her hand. She cast a sideways glance at him, but he was staring ahead at Professor Bifrost, seemingly attentive, that his hand was not under the table sending shivers up her spine. There was, however, a mischievous glint to his eyes.

Padma sucked in a sharp breath, eyebrows raised, a curiously shocked look on her face. She held her breath then, turning her hand over so that his fingers traced the lines on her palm.

Evidently, this was the wrong thing to do, for Padma's hand began to tremble, her fingers curling slightly with his gentle touch. He threaded his fingers through hers, and it seemed so familiar and so new. Overcome with his tenderness, her eyes closed and she began to imagine.

They were alone by Rhonda the Riotous. She was waiting for him in the space between Rhonda's shield and her sturdy, stone body. He didn't hesitate in the least, stepping up in front of her. His body caged her between him and the statue. He leaned over her. She could smell the intoxicating scent of their combined affection. His hands were soft at her waist, then her hips… moving upward slowly. She tilted her lips up toward his. They were hovering so close to hers, and she ached to feel them pressed against hers. He leaned down once more-

"And that's all there is to Thor's hidden alphabet! It will be on your N.E.W.T.s!" Professor Bifrost clasped his hands in front of his face with a loud clap, startling Theodore and ruining the moment.

The moment his hand left hers, she felt cold and an odd sense of foreboding. She suddenly felt as though this was the last real moment she'd have with Theodore, the last chance she would ever have. Classes would be over in a week, exams finished within two. She might never see him again, and there was an unsettling feeling crawling all over her. Theodore stood then, casting a shy glance at her.

Draco Malfoy walked by, slapping him on the back with a toothy, predatory grin. Then he dragged his gaze down to Padma curiously. Both of Draco's eyebrows waggled upwards twice before he smirked to Theodore again.

It wasn't until that moment that Padma knew exactly what a dangerous game they were playing. She gave a sharp look at Theodore, noticing exactly how pale he'd become at the exchange. She'd have to walk away from this, and she wasn't sure she could be that strong, that brave. That was Parvati's duty.

But after they all left Hogwarts two weeks later, Voldemort paid Theodore Nott a very well known visit. Padma no longer had to worry about her own strength; Theodore was stronger than she could ever hope to be. He never looked in her direction again.