wl_mods (wl_mods) wrote in wizard_love, @ 2010-03-05 00:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | *fic, 2010, padma, terry |
Special delivery for thimble_kiss, part 2
Title: History Is A Symphony of Echoes
Author:
Recipient's LJ name: thimble_kiss
Pairing(s): Padma/Terry
Rating: PG-13
Summary Stories from the past can bring families, and potential couples, closer together
Word Count: ~22,000 words
Warnings/Content: None
Author's notes: thimble_kiss, I was excited and nervous both to get you as my recipient. This isn’t quite the fic I wanted to write for you, but I’m rather hoping it works all the same :). Hopefully you didn’t have your heart set on smut. For my very simplistic and generalized made up history, I apologize.
September 21, 1919
I am increasingly ignored as the days go on. Father is ever busy, though I have my doubts it’s always with Ministry business, and mother keeps coming down with her ever ‘frequent’ headaches. Of course not that it stops her lectures and admonishments, but at least it is on a more infrequent basis.
For all I’ve been told to stay in my room at read, they should know me well enough to know by now that it is not going to happen. It is easier to get forgiveness than permission if I’m found out now that I have the relative freedom.
It wasn’t a daring escape; for all Mother and Father might like to have me under their thumb, to the rest of the world I appear an independent young woman well past the age where she can make decisions for herself. I was accompanied though by Loopsy, one of the house elves who is painstakingly loyal to the Ministry staff. She kept fretting and threatening to punish herself no matter how many times I reassured her what while ‘Mistress’ had told her to see to my needs, she had never strictly specified how and where that must be done. I’ve always found most house elves are content to hold to strictly the letter of the orders, but this one was annoyingly perturbed by the spirit of it. I felt bad for throwing her into such a tizzy, but eventually I learned to ignore her muttering and moaning as we headed for a ‘walk’ in the grounds to the edge of the anti-apparition wards.
It was that point I ran into Nikhil coming back, quite literally. Both of us stumbled back, as he’d cracked out of apparition with a large box in his hands nearly right where I stood.
When we’d straightened ourselves out, he looked at me with raised eyebrows. "You are sneaking out then?"
I put on my haughtiest face, most reminiscent of mother when she was at her autocratic best. "I don’t need anybody’s permission to go on an outing."
"You are a veritable rebel are you not, Memsahib?" His tone was mocking.
"Don’t," I said the words sharply, though I know they sounded too petulant, "I know what you mean by that."
They had come out sharply as well because his mocking pricked at me, and not just what he meant as an insulting address. I knew for all I might talk of having different ideals than my parents, and trying to live separately from them, I did none of that in practise. If I did, I would be in Paris studying potions right then. If I did, I would actually make my opinions count for something. If I did, I would do whatever I wanted to do without fear of recrimination rather than sneaking around like a teenager. It was easier said than done however because no matter what else went on they were my parents, and I loved them. At least I thought I did.
He ignored my admonishment. He was taking in my appearance, and likely noticing how distinctly English I looked. "Tanack," he cursed, taking the name of one of India’s most famous wizards in vain, "you will get yourself killed going out on your own. I have to deliver this package to your father, but then I am free of my duties for the day. Wait here, I will escort you."
There was definitely no deference, and it was a command more than a request. I was tempted to simply Apparate away, or walk into the city proper, especially with Loopsy nearly crying with how hard she was fretting behind me – but instead I waited. I wasn’t quite sure why I did.
In the end however, I was glad I had waited for his escort.
Some of it was the obvious. He took me to places my escorts would have never allowed me to see. I was able to experience – touch, smell, see, taste Indian in a way that I hadn’t been allowed to before. I might have stuck out like a sore thumb, and understood little, but I still got to feel more a part of the place; I got to see life there. This was home for Nikhil, and he knew it well. I felt absolutely safe too, which struck me as odd because I had been used to hit wizard guards with their wands always at the ready, but a single glare from Nikhil could quell almost anything. For most of the afternoon we didn’t talk much, at least not to each other, but at the same time I was always aware of his gaze lingering over me. I was too busy however enjoying myself to pay all that much attention to it.
Towards the end of the afternoon we found ourselves back at the main Ministry building. Loathe to go back inside, I had sat down in the gardens that had been created at the fringes of the grounds, and was gratified when Nikhil did the same. For the longest time we didn’t talk then either, me lying on the grass and enjoying the moment, him fiddling with an orange he had bought at the market – never eating it, just moving it around between his hands. I’d sent Loopsy make to the main building on a flimsy pretext she hadn’t much cared for.
"Why are you here?" He asked me finally, breaking the silence.
I was surprised by the question. "You mean this afternoon or..."
"In India," he clarified, "what are you doing here."
There was no way for me to answer the question, not really. Instead I gave a shrug with a laugh that held little amusement, and gave the most honest answer I could. "My father, he ordered my mother and I here with him. She’d be more content with her circle of acquaintances in London, but here we are."
"And you?" He asked, "Where would you be more content?"
I was surprised by the frank questioning, but there was an odd feeling to the afternoon. It was like an escape from reality, from life. It felt perfectly natural to answer Nikhil’s question, even if I had thought him hating me only hours before, here in the peace of the garden. "Anywhere else," I said, "I’m tired of that life, I’m tired of this life. It’s not the location, it’s the life. I had a chance to study potions, you know, but was required to give it up. I would be more content with a chance at something."
"Lofty but vague ambitions," he said.
I rolled my eyes, sitting up. "Tell me then, where would you be more content."
"Here," he said, looking around, "this land, the marketplace, the city, here. India, it is my home, it is my life. I would go nowhere else."
I could hear the certainty in his voice, almost the love. If I was honest, I had no similar ties to England, and I couldn’t empathize with it. I could understand it though. "Let me rephrase that then," I said, "where you would be more content, above working here. I’m stupid enough to think this is your life’s ambition to be an aide for the British wizards, as you seem to hate us all."
He gave a small smile, "I do not hate you all."
"Right," I lay back down, "just, what, ninety percent then?"
Nikhil only shook his head, "It is complicated. You would not understand."
I was tired of hearing that. It was the way I was shut out, even at home, in a land and a culture I lived and breathed. I wasn’t too stupid to understand, and I wasn’t too stupid to adapt. I couldn’t understand if I wasn’t told, and I couldn’t empathize if I remained clueless. I didn’t know Legilimency, much as that might have come in handy. I wanted to understand, I always did, and here with him perhaps I wanted it a little more.
"I hate no person," he said finally, after a long period of silence, "not even your Minister. I want autonomy though. We are not British, we never have been, and we never will be. I do not need fame, I do not need power, I just need that autonomy as a person, and for us as a country. The Muggles, they want some degree of it, but it is even more important for us. Our magic is not your magic Memsahib, and it cannot be governed the same way. Nor are we your minions here, much as we are treated that way now."
I didn’t dispute that. I was learning it to be true.
"Talk about lofty ambitions, and only somewhat vague," I finally said quietly.
He smiled, but said nothing, focusing his attention on the orange once again. I felt like I should say more, but I couldn’t. I knew he was oversimplifying the situation, and I know I often did as well, but I agreed with him. The issue was I was indirectly part of the problem.
"Your father," he returned to his original line of questioning, "why is he here?"
I lay there for a moment. "I’ve never pretended to understand my father, but I’m fairly sure the intent of the Ministry is to keep as much control as they are able." The words didn’t seem to surprise him.
I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds around me, not caring that my robes were going to soon be beyond the repair of the most adept house elf. When I opened them again, Nikhil was standing above me, holding out a hand to pull me to my feet. "Come," he said, "you must get back before they notice you are gone, Memsahib."
I would have admonished him again, but somehow the underlying mocking in his tone was gone despite the title. There seemed an almost odd affection to it.