Padma Medhani Patil (sweet_lime) wrote in afic, @ 2011-04-27 14:07:00 |
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Current music: | Love the Way You Lie - Eminem feat. Rihanna |
Who: Padma Patil; solo
What: Back to work.
When: Wednesday, April 27, 8 a.m. (with mention of April 24-26)
Where: Ministry of Magic
Rating: PG-13 for Padma's internal swearing
Status: Completed
Padma took Monday and Tuesday off of work. At first, it had made her feel like one of those stupid bints in Muggle movies, the ones who let men ruin their lives. But, when she woke up Monday morning, her eyes were swollen shut. She'd barely slept, and when she finally drifted off, she was woken again by a nightmare that left her sobbing and shaken. She couldn't recall the specific details, but it involved stumbling across her father's murdered body and knowing she had done nothing to prevent it.
She laid in bed for several hours after that, and by 6 a.m., she could still barely open her eyes. Every time she tried, the sleep and grit from the night before would drift across her irises and make her eyes water and slam shut again. The thought that her eyes could still water after all the crying she had done the night before forced a bitter laugh past her lips. She got up, attempted to get ready, but only ended up shaking and angry, having thrown her mascara at her mirror when she realized she looked more like a puffy-eyed elf with makeup on than a human being. She owled in claiming the stomach flu, and took Tuesday off as well, spending the day by her father's side.
But by Wednesday morning, her denial and hurt had turned into anger. Anthony had been cruel and caustic with his words—and while Padma's heart still thudded off-beat at the remembrance of the mornings she'd woken up to his slow kisses and warm arms, a sheath of hardened enamel now surrounded it, preventing her sadness from escaping and anything else from penetrating. She wasn't going to be so negligent again. She had been furious when he called her an idiot, understanding all too well what his goals were with the safe house, but also knowing too well how she, and likely many others, would feel there. His words made her feel like an idiot indeed, but not for the reason he'd intended. She was an idiot for ever having trusted her heart to Anthony.
No, by Wednesday, the hurt and denial, and subsequent anger, had turned into a furious resolve. At 8 a.m. precisely, Padma strode into the Ministry of Magic in her best work outfit. She carried her Ministry robes, charmed to fit within her purse, but for this morning's entrance, she decided she was best without them. In a her blackest, tallest stilletos, a pencil skirt, and, most importantly, a short-sleeved blouse, Padma strode into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, lotus tattoo and Ministry scars brandished and ready. She was stopped as she entered, which she had anticipated, and she relished every scant millimeter of the receptionist's widening eyes as she, the blatantly branded ST showed her Wizengamot clearance badge.
She kept her chin lifted and her direction sure as she headed towards Neville's office, taking an almost sadistic joy at every raised eyebrow or murmured distaste at the sight of her brand. Fuck them. Fuck each and every one of them, she thought. Fuck Anthony Goldstein, Robert fucking Stebbins, every Ministry employee and Auror—Minister Diggory... especially that bastard. She didn't give a flaming goddamn anymore. She was doing the right thing here, supporting Neville and using her knowledge and skills to support the Resistance the best way she knew how—and she dared anyone else try to tell her she wasn't helping, or try to tell her what to do.