Holiday gift fic for sivullinen
Title: Wanting, Dreaming
Author: acidpop25
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cho/Padma
Summary: Cho is less a Ravenclaw than the others.
A/N: For sivullinen, merry Christmas!
Music: "Hear Me Out," Frou Frou
There is something very proper about Padma Patil, composed and reserved, so different from her ebullient, extroverted twin. Cho knows them both, and Cho likes them both, but there's something about Padma that Parvati hasn't got. It's in the neat, attentive way she sits in the uncomfortable chairs in the classrooms, back straight, perched on the edge, hands neatly folded when she isn't taking notes. It's in the way she dresses when she's not in her uniform, in fitted slacks and crisp shirts and classy jumpers, all in muted, soft colours that stand out pale against her dark skin. It's in the elegant, practiced way she twists her glossy black hair into a tidy bun held in place by a black hairband that's all but invisible. And it's in the way she frowns slightly when she's concentrating, and the intensity of her big, dark eyes, and the precise motions of her hand as she writes, and the rare, pleased little smile when she's happy with her work.
Padma, Cho thinks with a pang, is a very, very pretty girl. She is not an adventurous one, though she is as curious as any Ravenclaw, but hers is an intellectual curiosity, so very different from Cho's own half-repressed, desperate longings for wild, raw, pure things of passion and power that she could let rip through her and thunder in her veins like waterfalls of fire, and that doesn't even make sense, but Cho doesn't really care. Sometimes, Cho is less a Ravenclaw than the others, and she feels it acutely in moments like these, when she's lost in dreaming wishes for things she can't get from books.
Her dorm is empty when Cho walks in, the other girls still down in the common room, but Cho appreciates the quiet. She shucks her clothes quickly and impatiently, then pulls on a pair of pyjama pants and an old tee-shirt, worn ridiculously soft over the years and still too big for Cho's petite build. She climbs into bed, snuggling under the duvet and leaving one side of her curtains open, and the silence of the dormitory slowly calms her racing mind, and she lets her eyes fall shut.
She opens them again, though, when she feels the mattress dip slightly with another person's weight, and she notices that the curtains have been pulled shut.
"You've been wanting, dreaming," Padma murmurs, and brushes Cho's glossy hair back from her face. Padma does not say thinking, because Cho's restless desire doesn't come from her mind, and Padma knows her well enough to feel the difference. Even dressed for bed, Padma is composed, put together, in neat cotton pyjamas of pale blue, her hair loose and sleek down her back; she shares none of Cho's tendency to disarray in appearance or in feeling, but Cho has long given up on envying her that.
"Yes," she answers, and Padma kisses her cheek and curls up next to her in bed, sliding her arms around Cho's waist.
"Tell me in the morning?"
Cho nods, cuddling against Padma, who is warm and soft and reassuring against her, so different from the careful precision of her nature. "Night, Padma," she murmurs, closing her eyes again, and she feels rather than sees Padma smile at her.
"Sweet dreams, Cho," Padma whispers.
Author: acidpop25
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cho/Padma
Summary: Cho is less a Ravenclaw than the others.
A/N: For sivullinen, merry Christmas!
Music: "Hear Me Out," Frou Frou
There is something very proper about Padma Patil, composed and reserved, so different from her ebullient, extroverted twin. Cho knows them both, and Cho likes them both, but there's something about Padma that Parvati hasn't got. It's in the neat, attentive way she sits in the uncomfortable chairs in the classrooms, back straight, perched on the edge, hands neatly folded when she isn't taking notes. It's in the way she dresses when she's not in her uniform, in fitted slacks and crisp shirts and classy jumpers, all in muted, soft colours that stand out pale against her dark skin. It's in the elegant, practiced way she twists her glossy black hair into a tidy bun held in place by a black hairband that's all but invisible. And it's in the way she frowns slightly when she's concentrating, and the intensity of her big, dark eyes, and the precise motions of her hand as she writes, and the rare, pleased little smile when she's happy with her work.
Padma, Cho thinks with a pang, is a very, very pretty girl. She is not an adventurous one, though she is as curious as any Ravenclaw, but hers is an intellectual curiosity, so very different from Cho's own half-repressed, desperate longings for wild, raw, pure things of passion and power that she could let rip through her and thunder in her veins like waterfalls of fire, and that doesn't even make sense, but Cho doesn't really care. Sometimes, Cho is less a Ravenclaw than the others, and she feels it acutely in moments like these, when she's lost in dreaming wishes for things she can't get from books.
Her dorm is empty when Cho walks in, the other girls still down in the common room, but Cho appreciates the quiet. She shucks her clothes quickly and impatiently, then pulls on a pair of pyjama pants and an old tee-shirt, worn ridiculously soft over the years and still too big for Cho's petite build. She climbs into bed, snuggling under the duvet and leaving one side of her curtains open, and the silence of the dormitory slowly calms her racing mind, and she lets her eyes fall shut.
She opens them again, though, when she feels the mattress dip slightly with another person's weight, and she notices that the curtains have been pulled shut.
"You've been wanting, dreaming," Padma murmurs, and brushes Cho's glossy hair back from her face. Padma does not say thinking, because Cho's restless desire doesn't come from her mind, and Padma knows her well enough to feel the difference. Even dressed for bed, Padma is composed, put together, in neat cotton pyjamas of pale blue, her hair loose and sleek down her back; she shares none of Cho's tendency to disarray in appearance or in feeling, but Cho has long given up on envying her that.
"Yes," she answers, and Padma kisses her cheek and curls up next to her in bed, sliding her arms around Cho's waist.
"Tell me in the morning?"
Cho nods, cuddling against Padma, who is warm and soft and reassuring against her, so different from the careful precision of her nature. "Night, Padma," she murmurs, closing her eyes again, and she feels rather than sees Padma smile at her.
"Sweet dreams, Cho," Padma whispers.