For the Bingo Card Competition — Parvati Patil, indigo.

Brief mention of onesided Parvati/Lavender. If that bothers you, go ahead and turn back now.

Some days, Parvati feels red. She's so angry at the world. So sick of being mistaken for her sister, and being marginalised when they realise she's not Padma. Because Padma's the clever one, the Ravenclaw, the one who's going to change the world. And Parvati's just the gossip, the flirt. As though Gryffindor isn't a strength in it's own right. As though social smarts aren't worth as much as book smarts. As though she doesn't matter. And she hates herself for blaming her sister but she does, even though she knows Padma can't help what they say.

Some days, she is angry.

Some days, Parvati feels orange. She is enthusiastic about life itself. She would lay on the grass and watch the trees turn colors if Lavender would let her — but Lavender isn't much for nature and Parvati is oh-so-used to nodding her head and saying okay. So instead of wasting away under the leafy canopy she steals glimpses and dances in the rain and messes up Lavender's oh-so-perfect hair with a well aimed snowball and she giggles, truly giggles because this, this is what life is all about. This is living.

Some days, she is enthusiastic.

Some days, Parvati feels yellow. Nothing can bring her down from the high of joy. She is learning magic at the best school in the world. Her best friend (and the girl she's a little bit in love with, though she doesn't mention that) is her roommate, and they are inseparable. She feels like she is living the fairytale life, and the only thing she hopes for (and she hopes desperately) is that nothing will change. She beams her sunshine smile at the world.

Some days, she is joyful.

Some days, Parvati feels green. She is a flower growing up through the cracks of life, ceaselessly seeking the sun. She is life, growing and flowering and blooming and living. She revels in the sheer fact that she is breathing, she is alive.

She sometimes thinks she is alone in recognising this. Lavender looks at her like she's crazy, but there are times when Parvati doesn't care if she's crazy as long as she's alive.

Some days, she is alive.

Some days, Parvati feels blue. She looks at the world around her and all she feels is sad. She sees pain and heartbreak and everyone yearning for more, everyone wanting, no one content, and she aches. She wants to find a corner and cry in it until the world figures out how to be happy again, until she figures out how to be happy again. Rivers run to an ocean of tears and it doesn't matter, none of it matters because being sad doesn't change anything. Sadness is a paralytic. Nothing changes but with time.

Some days, she is sad.

Some days, Parvati feels violet. The color of royalty, purple, and there are days when Parvati feels like she is a queen. Information is her domain, her kingdom, and her currency all in one. Her source of power. She deals in words, in rumours, in secrets — and everyone knows it, and everyone has something to barter with and something to barter for. She knows almost everything about absolutely everyone in the castle and she knows it, everyone knows it, and she is on top of the world.

Some days, she is royal.

But most days, Parvati feels indigo. She is somewhere in-between, somewhere that isn't really anywhere distinct at all — an arbitrary line they've decided to draw that she's straddling. She is angry and enthusiastic and joyful and alive and sad and royal all at once. She is everything. She is nothing at all.

She is content.

Most days, she is content.

And that is enough.