(no subject)
Damaged
Date: January 7, 2005
Characters: Parvati Patil
Location: Parvati's flat, Copper Towers
Status: Private
Summary: Parvati contemplates the past and the future
Completion: Complete
Warning: Memories of sexual assault
Parvati found herself walking across an open field on a bright, sunny day. She breathed deeply, inhaling the aroma of freshly cut grass and the pine needles of the nearby woods. She walked toward the trees, seeking a relief from the heat of the sun on her skin. Once she entered the woods, however, she became uncomfortably cool, and a vague sense of unease crept under her skin the further into the woods she ventured. Just as she began to think of turning back, she was grabbed from behind. The last thing she saw before she passed out was a pair of leering, beady eyes…
She woke up with a start, covered in sweat, shivering in the January chill of her drafty flat.
Not again.
I thought I was getting past this.
She wondered what had set it off this time.
She sat up, trying to catch her breath, hating herself for her weakness and wondering what had set her panic off this time. There hadn’t been any unusual interactions with men; in fact, there had hardly been any male patients over ten, now that she thought about it. No chats at bars or restaurants, no encounters in the hallways.
In fact, she was nearly as cloistered as those odd Muggle nuns she’d read about. Parvati thought about Lavender, envying her comparative ease with the opposite sex. It didn’t used to be like that. Parvati had been quite a flirt herself, not so long ago. There had been a time when boys and her interaction with them had been some of the most memorable and highly anticipated parts of her life.
Parvati missed that relatively carefree girl. She missed her flirtatious smiles and laughing eyes. She missed the thrill of the pursuit. She missed the butterflies in her stomach, the sudden increases in her pulse, the warm flush of desire over her skin. She missed stolen kisses and caresses. She missed holding hands under a table.
Not that she’d had much of a chance to do those things while the war was on. And even back then, physical expressions of affection had come with a price-the guilt of knowing that she would disappoint her parents if they ever found out. She’d only let things go to a certain point, a little further each time-but was never quite willing to take that ‘final step’ without a deeper commitment.
Taking that even that ‘first step’ these days would take more than a commitment; it would take felix felicis, or maybe a potion that would turn her into another person entirely.
She got out of bed, padding to the kitchen.
As she put on the kettle, she hovered close to the flame, shivering, rubbing her arms.
I have to get past this.
I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life.
I don’t want to be afraid any more.
All around her she saw people picking up the pieces of their lives, reconnecting, making new connections. She wanted it so badly-someone to talk to, to share her life with-but the inevitable result of a relationship; having someone on top of her, inside her, scared the hell out of her. Maybe I’m off men forever, she thought. Maybe I should start looking at girls.
She tried to picture herself kissing a girl-some random faceless girl-but the imaginary girl ended up looking too much like a pretty man and then what was the point? She tried to picture herself kissing Lavender and ended up giggling almost hysterically. It would be too weird, she thought. Who, then? Hermione? That made her laugh even harder. She’d probably end up lecturing her about her technique. She thought around, who did she know that might possibly be interested? Maybe a more athletic girl, like Angelina Johnson. But no, Parvati had seen Angelina’s eyes light up when she spoke about Lee Jordan.
Anyway, it was ridiculous, because Parvati really couldn’t see herself kissing any girl, not really. She’d liked the feeling of strong arms around her, of scratchy stubble on a chiseled chin, the sound of a deep voice murmuring in her ear.
She then tried to picture herself with a man, going on a date, talking about herself; her likes and dislikes, her hopes and fears, slow dancing, holding hands in a cinema. That was what she and Sanjit used to like to do.
Sanjit.
She hadn’t let herself think about him for a long time.
She poured a cup of tea and walked to her favorite chair by the window. It occurred to her that his photograph was still waiting there in her album-all she had to do was open it.
She went to the closet and started digging through the box buried under a stack of old sheets. When she finally located the brown leather album, she blew the dust off the front of it, then, clutching it to her chest, she carried it over to the chair.
Taking a deep breath, she laid it across her lap, flipping through old family pictures, photographs from Hogwarts taken by Colin, and some of Dean’s doodles and drawings, carefully saved. She found a scrap of fabric from her Yule Ball dress and the spare bit of parchment where the Beaubaxtons boy she met there had scribbled his address. She smiled as she remembered her very first kiss that night, in a secluded corner of the entry hall. A few pages later she came across a photograph Lavender had taken of Parvati the first time she wore her lime green St. Mungos’ robes, and in it she grinned proudly and stuck her tongue out at Lavender, who had teased that the color made her skin look grey.
Next, she found a photograph of her first flat in London, hardly bigger than a shoebox. Finally, she came across the picture of Sanjit. Smiling, with prickles of tears in her eyes, she remembered.
The cinema had been one of their first dates, though at the time, she had merely considered it a friendly outing. He was off limits, and not just because they were colleagues. They became good friends. He’d been homesick for India, so she took him out to one of her favorite Muggle restaurants, and afterward they found a cinema playing one of those silly Indian musicals.
She had found him to be studious, kind, intelligent, and utterly charming in a quiet, dignified way. She never meant to develop feelings for him, knowing that he’s family had arranged his marriage years before; to a very young woman from a very influential family. Sanjit accepted it dutifully, mentioning it on the very first day they’d met, making it clear that he was available only for friendship. The other girls in the program considered him a challenge, flirting madly with him. As a result, he gravitated toward Parvati, who was sympathetic to his predicament.
They spent weeks together, finding so much to talk about; with both enjoying her first taste of freedom from their restrictive families since school, excited about all they were learning in the program, exhausted by the rigorous schedule they shared.
Both tried to fight their feelings for as long as they could, but when they finally came together, it seemed so right, so inevitable, that Parvati didn’t have it in her heart to feel guilty. The fact was, she liked the woman she had been with him. She loved the power they had held over each other; to be able to send both their hearts racing with just a look, an innocent touch.
Parvati never told anybody she’d been to bed with him, not even Lavender, for she had been going through the collapse of her engagement around that time. First of all, she didn’t want to rub her happiness in Lavender’s face, and afterward, she thought it was too late to share her sadness when he finally went back home.
Some time after that, the war really began to escalate, leaving little time for girlish chats, and then her abduction had happened, and her previous sexual history began to be something she didn’t want to think about, for it brought back memories of an entirely different kind. She didn’t want her trauma to affect her like that. Her time with Sanjit had been magical and she didn’t want to sully the memories.
But, looking at his beautiful, familiar face, she felt angry with herself. You ought to be able to see the difference. Not all men are monsters. Some are wonderful. Some are gentle, some are kind.
She tried to bring back memories of him, trying to recall the way it had felt when he touched her. She placed a hand on her breast, experimentally.
A large hand on her breast, warm and soft, fingers circling gently…
Grabbing, pinching painfully…
No, I’m not going to think about that, I wont!
She shook off the nausea, trying again. Her hand slid down her belly to rest between her legs.
His bare skin sliding against hers, slick with perspiration, her hands grasping his buttocks, his pelvis pressing against hers, filling her with his length…
Tearing, invading, trapped by a heavy, sweaty body…
NO! I wont!
Parvati ran to the sink, retching until there was nothing left in her stomach, clinging to the edge of the chipped porcelain, sobbing in frustration.
Once her stomach stopped clenching, she rinsed out her mouth in the sink, splashing water on her face.
Pouring another cup of tea, she sat back down on the chair, this time pulling down the blanket that had been draped over the back of it, arranging it around her body.
Perhaps it was just too soon.
She reached over and closed the photograph album, putting Sanjit’s face out of her mind for the moment. She sincerely hoped he was well, she prayed that he had come to love his wife. The thought of small children running around on the other side of the world with his beautiful eyes and warm smile cheered her considerably.
Perhaps, some day, it would happen for her, too. She feared, however, that luck had very little to do with it. It would take courage and determination, and she suspected she had used up her entire store of those in escaping the Death Eaters.
I will get past this, she promised herself