No one had known about them before the end of the war.

It started during the war and everything was so chaotic and tenuous that they chose to keep their relationship a secret. It wasn't shame, as neither really cared what anyone else thought; it was just nice having something private between them. It was an escape from everything happening in the world. They were each other's sanctuary.

It hadn't been expected, of course. They both fancied boys in the past and they'd never realized they were also attracted to girls. No, that wasn't right. It wasn't all women that they were attracted to or found appealing, it was just them. It was new and confusing, but right in a way neither could explain. They'd been friends during school despite their different houses and that friendship had just slowly developed into something more during the long, lonely nights spent in tents when they didn't know if they'd survive the next day.

It wasn't just sex, though it had started off with frantic kisses and urgent touches beneath worn blankets as they sought distraction from the reality of war. It had become something more than sex, more than friendship, in the passing months. The first time they had whispered the words, she had known it was right regardless of what anyone might say. She was logical, after all, and knew fully well what awaited them when others found out.

Her parents would disown her without question, their expectations of her marrying and providing grandchildren forever lost from the moment she pressed her lips against Hermione's that first warm summer night. Others wouldn't understand, not in this world where such things were kept behind closed doors and words such as 'close friendship' concealed the truth of similar relationships that had gone before theirs, but some, those who were really their friends, would accept them. This world was changing, though, and it seemed it wasn't such a forbidden shameful act to Muggles so others might be more understanding of what they shared.

They knew what they might have to face and were prepared for whatever might happen. She lacked Hermione's bravery, her strength, but Padma was willing to find the courage necessary to stand up for what she wanted and wouldn't let anyone take this away from her with hateful words or sneers. She didn't care what anyone said because it was worth the risk. This wasn't something you found every day and she knew this, realized it was special and knew she was lucky to be loved by Hermione and to be able to love her. This was love, an unconditional love that terrified and comforted, that aroused and intrigued, that was real and special.

The war was now over. Voldemort had been defeated, Harry had triumphed, but there had been no celebrating amongst them, not yet. Hermione had been in St. Mungos since the last battle, and the healers weren't certain when or if she would awaken. Padma hadn't cared about secrets or privacy when she had first seen Hermione lying pale and lifeless in Ron's arms after they faced Voldemort. There had been no thought to society's beliefs or the expectations of her family as she had rushed to Hermione's side and taken her hand.

Harry and Ron had known. She didn't know how, hadn't asked, but it had been their eyes and in their comforting hugs as they waited with her at St. Mungos. They were her rocks, just as they were Hermione's, and she had begun to understand what true friendship, what real family that had nothing to do with blood and birth, meant as they paced and worried and spent all their time at the hospital instead of being healed themselves. They told her stories of Hermione, of their years at Hogwarts before Padma had looked at her as anything more than a friend, and she laughed and cried and clung to them as they all waited for Hermione to wake up.

Parvati had surprised her, seeming to accept things with a casual shrug of her shoulders and a protectiveness that kept others from finding out what they didn't need to know yet. Her twin brought her fresh robes and brushed Hermione's hair while Padma reluctantly ate the tasteless food that St. Mungos provided. War had matured Parvati, had matured them all, but there was still a smile on her lips and gossip that needed to be told if only to try to make Padma smile.

When they were alone, she talked. She wasn't one who spent a lot of time speaking. Parvati was the talker and she was the thinker, Parvati was emotional and she was calm. That's how it had always been. Yet she found herself curling up against Hermione in the small hospital bed and telling her things she'd never dared put into words. She spoke of her family, of their plans for her to marry a Pureblood from India that she'd never even met, of her rebellion from that expectation years ago, of her feelings for Hermione and how they scared her but also completed her.

Two weeks dragged by slowly even as they seemed over in a snap of her fingers. Two weeks of restless nights and fear, of trying to be optimistic when most others had given up any hope that she'd wake up, of being strong for Hermione in a way she'd never had to be strong before, of being brave and having faith in powers she didn't full comprehend or understand that Hermione would be okay. She was reading from a newly released text on the Goblin Rebellion when she felt Hermione's hand squeeze her slowly.

Words drifted off into silence as she looked up and watched Hermione's eyes flutter slowly. They opened and Padma felt tears on her cheeks as she squeezed Hermione's hand. A weak smile was followed by hoarsely whispered words that Padma had refused to believe she'd never hear again. Without caring who was in the room, without regard to what faced them because they loved each other, without thinking about anything except Hermione, she leaned forward and kissed her gently before she whispered the words that had changed everything, that had made her life complete.

The End