Work Text:
Today they met at a posh tea shop reserved for women of Status just as they did every Wednesday, week in and week out. It had become their ritual, the only way two identical twin sisters, hardly separated since birth, could remain connected, despite the changes in the world, despite the drastic changes in their lives.
Padma was directed to her usual table at The China Cup by a young girl she thought she recognized from school, a former Ravenclaw Muggle-born whose name she didn’t remember. The shop was bustling with customers, all women of Status who could afford the leisure time and the exorbitant prices. Padma was glad she could count herself amongst their ranks.
“Here you go, Madam,” the girl said, pulling out a chair and bowing respectfully. “You’re Padma Patil, aren’t you? I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, Madam. I just remembered you from Hogwarts.”
“It’s actually Padma Zabini now,” Padma replied with a smile raising her hand to show off her wedding band: three colours of gold entwined together and sporting a very large, very flawless diamond.
The girl’s eyes widened. “It’s gorgeous!”
“My husband loves to give me beautiful things. He’s got very exquisite taste,” she explained. “I’m sorry but I don’t remember your name.”
“Oh, I’m Emily. Used to be Emily Tavington, but now it’s just…Emily.”
Padma caught sight of the steel ring of Status on Emily’s hand, branding her as a Muggle-born Second Class witch. At school, Emily had been a bright student with an entire world of opportunities open to her; now she was only a step away from being a House-Elf, reduced to serving her superiors and not even a family name. Muggle-borns who chose to stay in the Wizarding world were considered outcasts, unworthy of Family. Padma pitied her; the poor thing would not be allowed to marry or bear children without explicit permission of the State, the curse of being born to Muggle parents in a now oppressive Wizard-run world.
“Would you like to be served now, Madam?”
Padma shook her head. “I’m waiting for my sister to arrive. You can take care of us then. You can’t miss her – she looks just like me.”
With a quick curtsey, Emily was gone, leaving Padma alone with her thoughts. As she watched the younger girl go, she fiddled with her rings absently: her wedding band and the platinum ring of Status, charmed to alert everyone that she was a Citizen and a woman of Status in Society.
Of course, her twin had not been so lucky. As a perceived former paramour of Harry Potter’s, she’d been considered suspect, even if she’d had no real contact with him since their sixth year at school when their parents had pulled them out after Dumbledore’s murder. Still, these days, even a shared word could be considered treasonous, and Parvati’s name had been on the list of the damned. Padma had begged her husband to intercede, and luckily, he had. With his considerable influence (and considerable fortune), Parvati’s sentence had been commuted to probation and a State-appointed marriage. It was flawlessly logical – at a time when pure blood was at a premium, no one could really afford to banish or kill a pure-blood woman of such high breeding, even one suspected of being an accomplice to enemies of the State.
So, in the end, Parvati had been married off to the scion of one of the oldest Families on record: Marcus Flint.
Padma knew her sister wasn’t entirely happy with the arrangement, she’d always dreamed of falling in love with a very handsome man and living happily ever after, but she was alive and living in London, married to a man of good standing, which was more than either of them could have hoped for two years ago. It was, however, a heavy burden for Parvati to bear.
How had things gone so horribly wrong in so short a time? The answer was Harry Potter. If Harry had not died ridding the world of Voldemort, however successful he had been, perhaps things would have been different. If Albus Dumbledore hadn’t been murdered prior to that, things could not have possibly gone so pear-shaped. But, with no one alive on the side of Light to maintain any sort of balance or to speak with the voice of reason, those with ambition and cunning had rushed in to fill the void left in Voldemort’s wake.
Chaos had ensued. The Wizarding population, tired of war and scared of total annihilation, embraced those promising peace and some semblance of order. Harry and his allies (both living and dead), along with the most loyal of Voldemort’s minions, had been blamed for the myriad ills and problems plaguing Wizard society and been removed: some killed, some imprisoned, some exiled. A few lucky members of the Order of the Phoenix had managed to escape. Some had not.
Padma still remembered the pictures in The Daily Prophet of poor Ginny Weasley, ringleader of the new Resistance, being lead to her execution, her head held high, her expression defiant and proud. Padma had vowed not to let her sister suffer the same fate. And she hadn’t. Parvati was considered a full Citizen of Status, even if in actuality, she was treated as a lower Class. Flint had been given full custody and control over his wife, however, she would be allowed to own property, inherit from her husband and family, and all her children (provided she had them) would be full Citizens as well. All of this was provided she never consorted with any Enemies of the State again, but Parvati was not that stupid, she wouldn’t jeopardize her life or her family to be a revolutionary. She couldn’t possibly allow her unborn children to be treated as half-bloods, unable to inherit or hold certain jobs and titles, only allowed to marry or have children by other half-bloods, with all unions having to be State-approved.
The clock chimed four o’clock and Padma began to worry, glancing around the tea shop, trying desperately not to look frantic. It wasn’t like her bahina to be late for their meetings. Could something have happened to her? Would Marcus have prevented her from coming? Before any further thoughts could surface, she saw Emily leading Parvati towards her, Parvati chattering away as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
She allowed Emily to seat her, the multiple bracelets on her slim forearm jingling as she pulled off her wool coat. Padma could see her twin looked flustered, still gasping for breath, as if she’d come running in from somewhere.
“Oh, there are you are, priya,” Parvati said, clearly trying to act as if nothing was wrong. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” She leaned forward and planted two air kisses on her sister’s cheeks, first one side, then the other, as her twin reciprocated in kind. “How are you? You look beautiful today.”
Padma couldn’t help but preen just a little. “Thank you. I’ve just discovered a new salon which just opened in Diagon Alley. Every time I go there, I come out feeling like a million galleons thanks to this fantastic girl they’ve got there – her name is Calantha and she’s marvelous. Blaise is positively all over me whenever I come home from there. He can barely keep his hands off me, so it’s worth the effort. Might work for Marcus too.” She flashed her sister a coy smile. “Maybe it’ll even help you make that baby with him…”
“It sounds like something I should try then.” Parvati replied with what sounded like a strained laugh. “Perhaps we could go together…? I don’t think Marcus would mind if I went out with you. You’re safe in his eyes.”
“That would be lovely, priya. Do you know who she told me came in to the shop the other day?”
“No, who?” Parvati asked, genuinely curious.
Padma giggled, then said sotto voce, “Lavender. Lavender Longbottom. I can’t believe she actually had the cheek to show up in a place like that. She’s barely a Citizen herself! Airs and graces, that one has!”
Parvati looked troubled for a moment, a crease in her forehead marring her pretty features. “You know the only reason they let her and Neville free was because no one believed he was capable of doing anything useful. As if he’d make up a pack of lies in order to be a hero!”
“Shhhh…” Padma indicated her sister should lower her voice with a finger to her lips and looked around nervously. Luckily, none of the other patrons of the tea shop seemed to be terribly interested in their conversation.
At that point, Emily arrived to take their order, apologizing profusely for interrupting them. They quickly rattled off their usual, waiting until she’d gone before going back to their conversation.
“I’m sorry, Padma,” Parvati said sheepishly, dropping her gaze coyly. “Still, you know it’s true. It’s not like that Cho Chang who lied through her teeth in order to save her pretty neck. And now she’s the mistress of the Minister of Magic. I saw her today, you know. At St. Mungo’s, and she didn’t look too pleased. Serves the dozy cow right.”
“St Mungo’s? Parvati, whatever were you doing at…” Padma’s face lit up in a genuine grin and she grabbed her sister’s hand.” Are you…?”
Parvati nodded and smiled slightly. “Yes, but don’t tell anyone yet. It’s much too early and you know what happened last time. I don’t want Mata or Bapi to worry about me. I’m not even telling Marcus yet.”
Padma knew her sister had been trying very hard to have a baby, but all of the previous attempts had ended in heartache. Perhaps this time would be different. “Of course not. But, it’ll work out for you this time. I just know it.”
“I hope so.” For some reason, Parvati didn’t sound too convinced. “That’s why I was late, priya, I had to see a Healer and the wait was terrible. But, there was Cho Chang, as bold as brass, sitting in the waiting room with me. I’m pretty certain she’s pregnant.”
“No!” Padma gasped, her eyes wide. “With Lucius Malfoy’s baby? She couldn’t possibly be thinking…”
“I don’t know. I can’t imagine his wife would ever allow it. But, on the other hand, everyone is so obsessed with bringing more pure-blood children into this world that perhaps she’ll look the other way.” Parvati shrugged. “It’s been known to happen before.”
“Yes, but she’s supposedly a jealous harpy who would tear the eyes out of anyone trying to usurp her place as the Minister’s wife. And Cho is a Citizen. She should know better than to try a move like that.” Padma could relate to what Narcissa Malfoy might be feeling, assuming she knew about this little tidbit. If anyone was stupid enough to try and take Blaise away from her, she’d gladly reduce the bitch to ashes.
“Perhaps she ought to be taught a lesson?” Parvati asked, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “You know, I was thinking that perhaps putting a word in the ear of the Minister’s wife to let her know about this might work in our favour.”
Padma stared at her sister, blinking in surprise. “Why, you scheming little minx! That’s a plan worthy of a Ravenclaw. Or a Slytherin.”
“Perhaps some of their thinking has rubbed off on me after all this time. Although only a Gryffindor would be brave enough to follow through with it,” replied Parvati, coolly. “I was considering sending an owl to Mrs. Malfoy when I got home.”
“Brave enough? More like foolish enough,” Padma insisted, a note of hysteria creeping into her voice. “Vati, it might work, but what do you think the Minister would do when he heard about it? You don’t want to endanger yourself by getting on his bad side. If you embarrass him like that, he could revoke your probation or take away your Status! Think of your children! Think of Mata and Bapi! Think of me! Mr. Malfoy was terribly lenient with you at your trial– you mustn’t do anything to change his mind. You promised me,” she hissed.
“Oh, tosh, Padma. The Minister’s too busy looking over his shoulder worrying that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger will be coming back to overthrow his government to be concerned about the likes of me,” and then she flashed her sister a defiant smile, “I hope he’s losing a lot of sleep because they will come back.”
“Vati, don’t say things like that…”
“Your tea, Miss,” The little server broke in before Padma could say anything further. She just sat there gaping at her sister in stunned silence as the tea was served, along with sandwiches and cakes. When she’d finished, the twins sat there, eating their meal and barely speaking, the tension between them awkward and palpable.
~*~
Parvati arrived back at the house, not really wanting to face her husband after what had almost been a pleasant afternoon with her sister. She hadn’t meant to lose her temper with Padma or to bait her, but all the talk of Lavender Brown, Neville Longbottom and Cho Chang had emboldened her, allowing a small kernel of her former self to come to the surface. Since the War had ended, she’d become another person entirely, one who lived in terror of saying or doing the wrong thing, of winding up back in Azkaban simply for going to a Yule Ball with a young man she’d once fancied, and for considering herself his friend. She loved her sister dearly but there were days when she wished she hadn’t brokered her release at all. It might’ve been a kinder fate to have been left to rot in Azkaban or be executed than to be given over to a man like Marcus Flint.
Of course Parvati played the good little simpering wife in public: hanging on his arm, laughing at his pathetic jokes, praising him to his family, but the truth was that she loathed him. He was a crashing bore who seemed to hate her for being cleverer than he’d ever be. She knew he’d only married her to secure himself a pure-blood bride and the promise of pure-blood children, but it had never been more than that. She simply wasn’t worth the effort in his eyes. To make things worse, one of the stipulations of her probation had been the breaking of her wand. Even though she was still considered a full Citizen in terms of Status, she was not allowed to use any magic without her husband’s explicit permission and so far, he’d been unrelenting, clearly not trusting her. Of course, he wasn’t wrong on that account.
He was drunk again, the stench of sour firewhisky clinging to him like a fog. “S’about time you got in,” he slurred, eyes glassy and red.
Parvati tried not to frown. “I was out with my sister. You know I meet her once a week. She likes to know that I’m doing well. Before that I…I went to St. Mungo’s, remember?”
“And?” Marcus was up on his feet, looming over her; his hulking frame dwarfed her by a good foot of height and at least one hundred pounds. He might have been an attractive man if he’d bothered about his appearance, which was slovenly, his nose broken from a rogue Bludger which he’d never bothered to get fixed.
She swallowed down hard and averted her eyes. “I…I’m pregnant.” She hadn’t planned on telling him but it was better to admit the truth than have him beat it out of her.
“It had better be mine.”
Parvati snapped her head up, her face blanching, her dark eyes blazing. “And who else would it be?”
“You tell me, Gryffindor whore,” Marcus grabbed her wrist, applying pressure until she winced. “It better belong to me..”
“Of course it does,” she whimpered, trying to pull away. “You only allow me out to see my sister, I haven’t got time to entertain lovers, have I?”
He sneered. “You might try. Think you can manage to have it this time?”
“Perhaps. It might help if you didn’t throw me down a flight of stairs…” Parvati spat.
Marcus shrugged, squeezing her wrist tighter. “You deserved it. If you want me to treat you right, you should keep your gob shut and remember who’s in charge here. Or I could just keep you under a Silencio all the time. I’d threaten cut your tongue out but I’ve got some uses for it, haven’t I?”
She glared at him, dark eyes flashing, but she said nothing.
“At least this means I won’t have to fuck you for another year. An heir and a spare and then I’m done with your filthy arse. Unless I feel like having you.” He flashed her a predatory smile. “Even dirty little slappers like yourself are fun from time to time. Especially when you’re crying and begging for me to stop.”
“I thought you found boys more to your liking.” As soon as she said it, Parvati knew she was in trouble, bracing herself as he swung at her, slapping her so hard that her vision blurred. Slowly, she raised her hand to her cheek, rubbing it lightly, fighting back tears.
“Not so brave now, are you?” Marcus growled.
“If you want me to have this baby, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself in future.” She pulled away and stormed upstairs to her bedroom, waiting until the door was firmly locked behind her before she burst into tears.
~*~
“Darling, I’m home,” Padma called, coming in through the front door of Zabini Manor. She was still distressed by her luncheon with her sister – what could ‘Vati be thinking by saying such things in public? Did she have some sort of death wish after all?
“Ah, there you are, Padma,” Blaise said silkily, getting up from his chair in the parlour. He gave her an appraising looking over, a smirk on his lips, a rapacious glint in his eye. “You look beautiful.”
Padma blushed and put her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. “I went to that salon in Diagon Alley. I’m glad it meets with your approval.” If anyone was beautiful, it was her husband: tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome. She melted whenever he looked at her like this, had done since they’d first met so many years ago. If only she could keep those dark eyes fixed on her and not anyone else, she’d truly be happy.
“It’s hard to improve on something so perfect already, but you have. Did you have a nice time with your sister?” Blaise tugged her over to his chair, sitting down and pulling her into his lap. His fingers were already trailing down her neck, tracing light circles along the top of her ample breasts, his coffee-coloured skin complimenting the cinnamon hue of her own.
Padma chewed her lip for a moment, hesitant to tell him the truth of the matter. It would only upset him. “Lovely. As usual. I probably shouldn’t tell you but…well, Parvati’s pregnant. She’s hoping it will happen this time.” She looked at her husband, sadly. “Do you think we could try, premapatra…?”
Blaise shook his head and laughed. “Why would you want to have a baby? It would just make you fat and ugly, and I couldn’t bear that. You’re perfect the way you are, Padma-love. I wouldn’t want you any other way.” He cupped her breasts lightly, his thumbs brushing over her nipples through her blouse. “If I want children, I could get them on someone else. You’re meant to be beautiful, not a brood mare, my darling.”
She looked at him, crestfallen. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, and it always ended up the same way. It wasn’t fair – if Parvati could have a baby, why couldn’t she?
“Oh, buck up, darling,” Blaise ordered, attempting to kiss her pout away. “If you were pregnant, you wouldn’t be able to wear the new present I bought you, now would you?”
Her expression lightened considerably. “A present? What did you get me?”
“It’s over there. On the table.” He pushed her out of his lap, giving her arse a playful slap. “Go and see.”
She made a bee-line for the parcel, quickly tearing off the brown paper and string, revealing a silk brocade corset in dark blue and bronze, the Ravenclaw eagle worked into the design along with vines and flowers. The front was busked, covered with sapphires and small diamonds. “Blaise, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.
“Go put it on, then,” he urged. “There’s matching knickers too. I had them done at Twillfit and Tattings. I know how much Madam Tattings likes to design for you.”
Scooping them up, she quickly stripped out of her clothes and got into the undergarments, the corset tightening its lacings of its own accord, moulding her already curvaceous figure into a perfect hourglass. Blaise sat, watching her intently, his eyes glancing over her lush body. When she was done, he came to her side, kissing her hungrily, hands roaming all over her bare skin.
“Beautiful. See why I don’t want you to have any babies? How could I bear to lose something this perfect?”
She felt herself blushing, slipping her hands under his robes, caressing his chest through his shirt. “Y-you’re right.”
“I’ve got another present for you, love,” he murmured, leaning in to nibble along the curve of her ear. “Come with me.” He took her hand and lead her to their bedroom, the room already lit with candles, the scent of roses wafting in the air.
“Hello,” said a husky voice. On the bed, a young blonde girl, barely dressed in filmy chiffon, lay sprawled against the pillows.
Padma gasped, her breathing shallow due to the constricting corset. She turned to Blaise, eyes filled with confusion.
Blaise grinned at his wife. “Isn’t she magnificent? I thought it might be nice to share for a change. You don’t mind, do you?”
Padma opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it again. It was better when he brought his tarts home to share with her than to seek them outside, on his own. At least this way, she had a fighting chance to keep her husband. He was rich and handsome and powerful – what woman wouldn’t want to get her hooks into him? Reluctantly, she nodded her head in agreement, going with him to join the nubile girl on the bed.
~*~
The following Wednesday, they met at a posh tea shop reserved for women of Status , just as they did every week. It had become their ritual, the only way two identical twin sisters, hardly separated since birth, could remain connected, despite the changes in the world, despite the drastic changes in their lives. Padma ignoring the bruises on her sister’s arms, Parvati ignoring her sister’s obvious desolation. In the end, it was just better, and easier, to leave things that way.