Perfect

Spoilers:None.
Summary:Parvati helps her sister prepare for her wedding day. Padma Patil/Terry Boot, Parvati Patil/Anthony Goldstein
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, J. K. Rowling’s. Hopefully she won’t mind my visiting the characters from time to time. For Dawn who wished for Terry/Padma fic. All characters are originally J.K. Rowling's. Terry, Padma, and Anthony are unavoidably influenced by Mercy, Dawn, and James' characterizations in Red Death. Merry Christmas Dawn!

‘You realise you looked perfect an hour ago.’

Parvati Patil pushed her hair behind her ear, and slid another sprig of baby’s breath into her dark hair before she turned around to face the bespectacled man in the doorway.

‘You know I’m never satisfied with perfection when it comes to my appearance,’ she twirled slightly, tripping a bit on the long blue sari. Momentarily annoyed, she gathered the end over her shoulder and posed for him. ‘What do you think?’

‘I already said perfect,’ Anthony Goldstein replied.

Parvati turned back to the mirror, checking her reflection once more. ‘How’s Terry?’ she asked him.

‘Very nervous,’ Anthony responded, taking a step into the room. ‘You would think he was getting married.’

Parvati giggled and stepped forward, placing a well-aimed kiss on Anthony’s lips. ‘Maybe that’s because he is?’ She raised an eyebrow at him, reaching up to automatically smooth one of his dark hairs. ‘You look incredibly handsome,’ she added softly.

‘I think you’re biased,’ he responded.

‘I’m also right,’ she squeezed his hand, stepped back and gave him a smile. She picked up a small rosewood trunk from the dresser and stepped towards the door. ‘I’m going to go help my sister now.’

‘I’ll see you at the wedding then,’ he replied.

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If I look perfect, Parvati thought as she stood in the doorway, Padma is perfection. Parvati stepped into the room and quickly walked over to where her sister was struggling to fasten an ankle bracelet between the silk cloth draping around her ankles.

‘Oh, Merlin, Vati!’ Padma exclaimed as she saw her in the doorway. ‘The bouquets didn’t get delivered and this blasted anklet of Mum’s won’t fasten, and I’m not certain, but I think Papa’s all upset because there are no marigolds!’

‘Padma, shhh,’ Parvati soothed, feeling it might be the end of the world that she was the calm one and Padma was the one using exclamation points at the end of every sentence. ‘Don’t worry about the bouquets, it’ll work out; I’ll fasten the anklet and Papa’s upset because his little girl is getting married, not because there are no marigolds,’ Parvati said with one breath. ‘I’ve brought you things,’ she added, opening the trunk.

She pulled out a golden ankle bracelet. It was a series of small bells connected by intricate chains and it made light jingling noises as she moved it. She held it up for Padma to see. ‘Something old,’ she said with a smile. ‘It was Grandmum Patil’s,’ she added. ‘Papa said that she wore it at her wedding.

‘Oh, Vati!’ Padma breathed, sitting down on the bed, and holding out her ankle.

Parvati knelt as best she could in the traditional Indian sari the girl’s mother had insisted her daughters be wearing. She fastened both ankle bracelets and one, a small golden circle, complemented the other, with bells and elegantly intricate chains. Finished, she stood and grinned at her sister as Padma turned her ankle, admiring the anklets now that they were fastened. Parvati turned back to the trunk and pulled out a small blue handkerchief.

‘Something new,’ she said, handing it over to her sister. ‘It’s your favourite colour,’ she added. ‘But try not to make your mascara run all over it while you’re at the ceremony. That would be totally unbrilliant!’

Padma stood, laughing at her sister’s tone, and took it, turning it over in her hand. ‘Merlin, Vati, the embroidery on this—’

‘I did myself,’ Parvati said proudly. ‘Anthony did help me with the charm however,’ she admitted sheepishly. ‘It kept coming out purple instead of deep navy. Apparently I can’t pronounce the spell adequately.’

Padma laughed again: a nervous sort of relieved laughter. Ten years ago it might have made Parvati mad that Padma laughed—she could hear her sister’s voice as though it was yesterday, ‘I’m not laughing at you Parvati, I’m laughing with you, and really, you should pay more attention to your annunciation, someday you’ll make your face breakout in acne rather than clear it up.’ –But today Vati was suddenly thankful that the more things changed the more they never did. There were always going to be some charms that she couldn’t do, and Padma was always going to laugh when she admitted how she messed them up, and today it made her laugh too, and she turned her head quickly so she could blot the tears at the corners of her eyes without Padma noticing.

‘Something borrowed,’ Parvati pulled a tiny rose quartz crystal from a small velvet bag. ‘This is mine,’ she said softly. ‘Anthony gave it to me last year. You never took Divination so let me remind you that rose quartz is—’

‘A bringer of love and romantic relationships,’ Padma’s voice joined Parvati’s as she reached for the crystal.

‘Right,’ Vati said, pleased that her sister remembered the meanings from a class she’d never taken and indeed had not shown much interest in ever. She slid the crystal onto the chain and she stepped behind her sister. ‘It also attracts unconditional love and positive emotion in relationships. I’ve read my tea leaves, gazed into my crystal ball, and looked at all the cards and I don’t think you and Terry need any extra help, but just in case I read things wrong, slide it down your neckline,’ Parvati said, reaching her arms around her sister to hug her from behind. ‘Keep it close to your heart for good luck today.’

Padma stood back straight, her shoulders straightened, and she regarded herself in the mirror. ‘All that’s left is something blue,’ she said, turning around.

Parvati nodded, and reached into the trunk for the final thing she’d placed inside earlier that morning.

‘Never mind the bouquets that didn’t show,’ Parvati said, pulling a half dozen long stemmed blue roses from the box. ‘I think these will work perfectly.’

‘Oh, Parvati,’ Padma breathed.

‘From Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick,’ Parvati grinned, taking one of the flowers and tucking off the stem. ‘Professor Sprout provided the roses, and it’s my guess is that Professor Flitwick charmed them blue.’ She slid one of the roses into Padma’s hair, tucking a long strand around the stem and pinning it carefully. The other five she gathered up with a piece of silk from the pile of tulle and ribbons that had been discarded in the earlier process of dressing Padma.

‘Here’s your bouquet,’ Parvati said, handing the flowers over to her sister.

Padma looked so happy that Parvati was certain she would start crying at any moment. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she told her twin sternly. ‘If you start crying I’m going to have to recharm every bit of facial make-up I gave you, and I won’t be nearly so kind the second time around.’

The stern tone worked, and Padma laughed and reached out her arms to hug her sister. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’

Parvati hugged her twin tightly and stepped back with a smile. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you, too.’

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Padma was the bride of Parvati’s dreams.

She was ten times more perfect than any romantic heroine whose adventures Parvati had read about in books. The way she smiled shyly at Terry as they met in front of the gathering of friends and family. The way she laughed nervously when Terry fumbled the ring. The way she looked positively glowing when the two of them turned after Terry had kissed her, rather long and passionately. And the way she was now nestled in his arms as the two of them danced.

Parvati breathed out in contentment and felt arms creep around her waist. She relaxed back against Anthony and felt him kiss her cheek.

‘You were the perfect Maid of honour,’ he murmured into her ear.

‘And you were the perfect Best Man,’ she returned.

‘And they were almost the perfect bride and groom,’ he added.

Parvati nodded automatically as she watched Padma dancing with Terry: a lifetime worth of friendship christened with a lifetime union and then Anthony’s words sunk in.

‘Almost?’ Parvati turned in his arms so she could look at him. ‘No, they were the perfect bride and groom.’

‘Mmm,’ Anthony shook his head, moving his hand to push his glasses up on his nose. ‘I think that title is reserved for us.’

Parvati stared at him. ‘Us… but…’

‘Will you marry me, Parvati Patil?’

A kiss was his answer, and then a shy ‘yes’, and then another kiss and then some giggling. The music changed then and Parvati was pulled to her feet to dance. It was the perfect end to a perfect day. Padma was the perfect bride. And Padma and Terry were the perfect couple. Someday in the not so distant future Parvati would step into the role of perfect bride, but tonight it was Padma’s role, and she was filling it perfectly.

After all, Padma was Parvati’s twin sister; perfection was in the genes.

By Sabrina