Work Text:
Parvati Patil knelt down in the yard outside her Hogsmeade home to tend to her garden of withered asphodel. Those first months grieving Lavender, before she had found her ghost, the flowers were a way to grieve, to try to plant something to honor her best friend, her love. Parvati had hoped that if she tended them well enough, she could donate the flowers to a Wolfsbane brewer, to lower the costs. Lavender was no longer alive to need the potion, but after the second Blood War, there were a lot of new werewolves who did. Now that she lived with Lavender’s ghost, now that they made a life (a death?) together in that cottage, Parvati had been consumed with her presence, leaving the flowers to wither and die and missing nearly a year of holidays with her family. If her mother Naisha had not showed up at her doorstep regularly with roti and leftover curries, she would have gone hungry too, just like her garden. She salvaged what she could, which was just the dirt, and she planted new Asphodel seeds in Lavender’s ghostly embrace. There were still werewolves in need, after all.