A/N: I own none of the cannon characters presented in this work, nor do I have any claim over any of the wonderful world Ms. Rowling lets us all play in. :)
Takes place in the aftermath of the battle of Hogwarts. Penelope Clearwater deals with the death of her brother, something she now shares in common with her former sweetheart, Percy Weasley. Oliver Wood and several other cannon characters make short appearances. PWxPC, OWxOC
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Penny remained crowded in the Great Hall near her brother's still form. Grievers lined the halls of the castle, but there was the odd emotional sense of not quite being sure how one should feel. Voldemort had fallen. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was no more. Surely celebration was in order. Cheers had even gone up as the implications of Harry's battle with him sank in. Even now there was dancing in some parts of the castle. But the all too long row of the deceased cast pallor over the Great Hall.
Penny's eyes moved down the line, seeing too many faces she recognized. Malfalda Cornwall, from the Goblin Liaison Office—she was just about to be promoted; Remus Lupin and his new wife, the Metamorphmagus, Tonks—They had just had a child, Penny remembered seeing pictures; Little Colin Creevy—who would tell his poor muggle parents?; A Hufflepuff boy from a few years below her; a Ravenclaw girl she remembered tutoring in her final year of Hogwarts; one of the Weasley twins. She couldn't be sure which, though she suspected it was Fred. The other was crouched near his head sobbing, and the rest of the family was clustered tightly around his body. Even Percy was with them, kneeling beside his fallen brother, all manner of pretentiousness gone from him. He must have made up with his family, Penny noted dully to herself.
But none of that mattered now. Penny was lost in her own world of grey, a world that had no room for her lost loves and childish worries. She could scarcely believe that she had felt such joy at seeing Percy join in the fight earlier.
Her big brother Thomas lay cold on the floor in front of her, his eyes unmoving, wand still clutched tight in his hand. Penny had not seen him fall, did not know he was dead until two others moved his body into the hall a few hours ago during that brief reprieve in Voldemort's onslaught, but guilt still plagued her.
He died saving me, Penny thought to herself remorsefully. He would haven't even been here if it wasn't for me. He never would have followed Oliver and I if I had just agreed to stay with Lizzie. The thoughts were too much for her brain, but Penny couldn't rid herself of them. She merely continued to stand, stiffly and coldly, believing every lie she concocted to convince herself she had been responsible for Thomas's death.
Suddenly Oliver was kneeling beside Thomas. He reached out a hand and closed Thomas's unseeing eyes against the glare of the morning light displayed on the ceiling then folded Thomas's arms over his chest, resting his wand squarely there. Then Oliver stood, leaving Thomas looking even more dead than he had moments earlier with his unseeing eyes staring into nothingness.
The silence over them was so deep it threatened to engulf those around them. Time seemed to stop in this moment, and Oliver, a friend to Penny every day since they first struggled through O.W.L. level homework in the Great Hall, knew that no words would be adequate to assuage Penny's grief. He merely reached out a hand, patting her gently on the shoulder and leaving space for her to breathe.
Finally Penny spoke. "It was because of me, Ol." Her voice cracked as she struggled to hold back a flood of tears. "If I had stayed like Lizzie wanted me to, Thom wouldn't have followed you into this—" her words caught in her throat as she stood, turning away from Thom's body, shaking.
Oliver stood and rounded on Penny's front, placing both hands on her shoulders. "Penny," he started, his voice low and soothing, "Thomas was a great man. But he would have been her whether or not you were present." Oliver's voice cracked a bit as he too struggled to avoid crying. "I think," he ventured cautiously, "it is a true testament to his character that he fought here—and died here, for what was right."
Oliver's eyes were glinting with the hint of a tear, but he set his jaw and swallowed hard, determined to be the rock his friend so desperately needed.
He was right, and though deep down Penny knew it, she couldn't shaker her feeling of guilt. The image of Thom throwing a spectacular curse at Dolohov, causing him to move his hot pursuit off of Penelope and onto her older brother, was burned into her mind.
"He—he was—trying to protect me," Penny tried to explain. "He—He did protect me." Tears began to streak her cheeks. "Just like he always has—"
Oliver reached his arms around Penny and pulled her into a tight, secure hug, holding her hair as she cried hot, sticky tears into his ripped and bloodied robes. She allowed herself to be lost in the strength of Oliver's toned arms and the safety in his embrace, thankful for such a friend as this. Penny didn't know how long she stood there—it felt like both an instant and an eternity—but eventually Penny's tears lessened and were satisfied to merely linger at the corners of her eyes. She loosened her grip around Oliver's torso and finally pulled away, finding Oliver's cheeks were also striped where tears had washed away the grime.
Penny's head flooded with a list of all the terribly unpleasant things to come in the following days—calling her father, seeing her mother arrive home to a funeral, finding some way to get a hold of all of Thom's odd friends…Returning home to Oliver and Lizzie's little flat bearing a battle scared body…how many times would she have to tell the story of his death? How many times would she be forced to relieve this terrible tightening feeling in her chest?
The vast walls of the hall seemed to contract, tightening around her. "I need some air," she told Oliver, and he nodded. Penny moved through the crowd of survivors and celebrators, finding her way out through the entrance hall and down the crumbling steps of the castle she cared about so dearly. The sun had ridden over the grounds, casting warmth over the grounds like Penny hadn't felt in over a year. Today was a beautiful day, despite the darkness of the night before.
Thom was gone. Penny kept returning to the thought of it. She would never see her brother smiling over a newspaper at her again. Mum would come home to a safe Britain only to discover the world had lost her boy. Surely the Dark Lord's defeat must be worth these losses, Penny told herself, though she had trouble believing it.
"Penny?" the voice behind her was tentative, almost fearful that she would respond; but it was a voice that she was all too familiar with. Percy.
She turned to face him, without a word. Her voice had yet to regain strength enough to carry on. But Percy didn't wait for her to say anything.
"I'm sorry," he spoke softly, "about your brother." He took a few steps towards her down the stairs of the castle. "Thomas was an exceptionally good man."
Penny blinked, absorbing the surprising sting of the kindly meant words. She forced a response. "As was Fred." Penny's voice was quiet, barely even noise, but Percy heard her words. He nodded, his eyes not seeing his surroundings.
"I was with him," Percy told her, not thinking she may not want to hear about his brother's final moments. "He was joking, right up to the end." The hint of a smile crossed his face, reminiscing about the lost brother that he had so loved.
Penny grinned a little back. "Sounds like Fred."
"And I'll bet Thom was doing something noble and selfless," Percy prompted Penny.
"I certainly hope so," Penny sighed. "I wasn't with him."
Percy had moved and was standing near Penny's side. Old habits took them, and they began along the path they had strolled around the lake so many wistful afternoons as students.
"I was glad to see you last night," Penny confessed as they reached the battle-torn ground near the lake shore. "I'm not sure I expected it, but I was glad."
"I was a fool, Penny," Percy spoke with no tone of pompousness about him. The whole of his usual ambitious demeanor fell away, leaving nothing more than the unguarded person Percy had always been in their most private moments. "I knew some time ago that I was wrong in my thinking about Albus Dumbledore desiring the Minister's power. I still don't agree with how uncooperative he was with the Ministry, and I likely never will, but he wasn't after control. Just change. And I was wrong about Harry Potter being a fame-monger. But I couldn't resolve my differences with my family—I'll admit it: I was too proud."
Penny looked out over the calm surface of the lake, letting Percy's words enter her consciousness.
"When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named appeared at the Ministry, I stayed, thinking that policies would change. By the time I realized they would not, it was too late." Percy's voice was tinged with regret, and Penny realized what a horribly lonely existence he must have been living these past months. "I have been trying for months to get into contact with the Order of the Phoenix," Percy continued. "My parents made it impossible for anyone they do not trust to get anywhere near the Burrow. And I couldn't exactly talk to my father at the Ministry. I finally got into Aberforth's good graces a few months ago. He was the one that tipped me off last night."
"And you came," Penny's disbelief was written on her face and dripping from her every word.
"Of course I came, Penny." Percy looked at her, his voice revealing that he was almost offended at her insinuation that he wouldn't join in the fight. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named threatened everything that I held dear. The enmity his evil bred ripped me from my family—and the one person I loved most of all." Percy caught Penny's eye for a moment before he looked away. She had forgotten how green his eyes were, how his glasses slid down his nose just a bit when he was nervous or upset.
"So that's what your life has been." Penny sighted. "I had wondered, from time to time. I haven't even seen you—but I did wonder."
"I saw you," Percy told her hesitantly, "In muggle London, about a year ago. I wanted to speak to you, but I wasn't sure what to say and then—" He stopped, not willing to go on.
Penny realized why Percy didn't want to speak. She remembered very well the last day she had ventured into the heart of London. "Then you saw I was with someone," She finished for him. "You saw I was with Oliver."
He nodded, almost dejectedly. "Shopping for engagement rings, it looked like."
"Percy—"
But he spoke so quickly her sentence was cut off. "I saw you long enough to see Oliver try a ring on your finder, kiss you on the cheek, and call you his angel—" Percy set his jaw, determined to remain composed—"And I lost my resolve to approach you."
Percy turned his face away from her own. Penny was certain she had seen a telling glimmer behind his glasses.
"I wish you would have talked to us."
"My heart couldn't take it, Pen," Percy responded, his voice saturated in honesty. "Though, it was good to know you were happy, and taken care of. When did you two marry?" The pain in his voice at forming the words was tangible.
"Percy," Penny reached out, automatically taking his hand. He didn't pull away. "You misunderstood." He kept his face turned away from her, but she knew he was listening. "Oliver has been my friend since we in were all in school together, working on our O.W.L.s. In Puddlemere, he was the only familiar face I would see for days at a time that I wasn't related to. If I remember correctly, he was your friend too, once, when you shared a dormitory in Gryffindor tower and bet me money you didn't have on his Quidditch matches.
"But Oliver and I were never in love. When we were together, Percy, I knew that you were jealous of him, of the way he had with most of the girls in the castle. I could never really make you see that I had no interest in him, but please believe me now. I was with Oliver in London that day and we were shopping for an engagement ring, a ring which I tried on and a task for which Oliver did indeed call me an angel and even kissed my cheek--but the ring he bought wasn't for me."
Percy turned his head back towards her and looked at Penny, really looked at her, for the first time since they had seen each other in the corridors the previous evening, repelling and firing more jinxes, hexes, and curses that a former Hogwarts prefect could rightly be expected to know. And Penny looked back. She closed her hand around Percy's, squeezing it gently.
"Oliver's married, Percy—to my cousin Elizabeth." She watched as a look of wild disbelief spread across his face. "I was helping him pick out her ring. Ol's family."
"I—"Percy had lost his capacity for intelligent conversation—"I just assumed, that day, and then when I saw you with him earlier, in the Hall, that you were with him."
Penny began to smile, her heart beating quickly. "No," She flashed her left hand, ringless as it was, at Percy. Penny laughed a bit in spite of herself. "No. We just wouldn't let Lizzie come along tonight. Ol would never put his expecting wife into such danger."
Penny and Percy simply stared at one another. People had begun to stream into the gates of Hogwarts's grounds, eager to be in the place where the war had ended. The pair by the lake was too busy being surprised at the turn their conversation had taken to take any note of this.
Penny examined Percy's cutely freckled face in the early morning light, remembering the day they had laid on that very beach while she drew constellations with her fingers, connecting the dots. His jaw had gotten squarer, more dignified, in the past few years, and his eyes looked like they had seen much more hardship than someone of a mere twenty-one years of age. There was even a hint of grey in the fiery red hair around his temples. But he retained the elegant, sophisticated elements of his appearance that made him so attractive to her in the first place.
"I can't believe you thought I was married." Penny laughed a little, grinning almost shyly.
"I can't believe you're not," Percy replied, his voice colored not with laughter, but with honest disbelief.
Now that she had started, Penny couldn't look away from him. She took in every detail of his appearance, from the uncommonly wrinkled state of his robes to the slightly hollow look of his cheeks, as if he hadn't been eating well lately. His glasses were chipped, she noticed, above his right eye—and there on his forehead—Cassiopeia. Penny's lips parted into a smile just thinking about the many times she had traced the line. She almost reached her hand out to touch his face, but she held herself back, not sure if this was the moment.
They sank once again into silence. There's so much to say, Penny thought to herself, but I can't quite figure out how to say it. Percy it seemed, was feeling the same way, for her certainly wasn't offering up any converstaion. Penny realized she was still holding his hand and hastily dropped it, feeling a crimson blush flood her cheeks. She turned away, hiding her rosy cheeks under the pretence of once more looking out over the lake.
Percy stepped closer to her, so close that she could smell his cologne. It was the same familiar scent he had worn in his days as Head Boy, full of deep spices and sandlewood. She was pleased to know his increase in wealth hadn't changed that simple part of him. She turned to face him, looking up slightly into his face. Percy reached for her hands, taking them into his. Penny did nothing to stop this action.
"Penny…" Percy spoke with trepidation, forming his words carefully, "Is there any…" his eyes sought the answer to a long unanswered question, "could you ever….Penny, could you ever forgive me? Would there every be a chance that we could try again—"
Penny cut him off, pulling her hands from his and placing a single finger over his lips, signaling him to be quiet. She leaned her other hand on his chest, where she could feel that his breathing had become shallow. She looked deep into the pale green eyes she had loved for years. He had made many mistakes, that was certain, but Penny had always believed that—in spite of everything, Percy was a good man. She surely hadn't stopped loving him, all these years, for even when she had been dating someone else, Percy was always in the back of her mind, a standard against which no other man had measured up.
She was sure she could love him again, sure that they could build something strong out of the ashes of the relationship they had once had. She moved her finger from his lips, biting her own lower lip almost nervously, and looked him square in his forest green eyes.
"Of course." Penny spoke with no trepidation. Yes, things had changed, she had changed, Percy had changed—but the fact that they loved one another obviously had not.
A smile broke across Percy's face at her words. Tears glimmered in Penny's eyes as she pulled her silencing hand down to his other shoulder, leaning in and kissing him, hard and long, before he had the chance to say another word.
It was almost as though they had never spent two and a half years apart from one another. Penny lost herself in the sensation of their kiss, in the pressure of his lips against hers, the smell of his cologne, the feel of his wrinkled collar under her fingertips. His hands were in her hair, holding the back of her head gingerly, as if it was the one place Percy's hands were supposed to be. His tongue flicked against hers and his sweet taste threatened to undo her.
Penny pushed herself away, just a bit, breaking off their kiss. Percy still had his arms wrapped around her, and her hand was still leaning against his chest. Penny breathed heavily for a moment, gasping to regain her breath. Percy still had his eyes closed, she noted, as if savoring the memory. He opened his eyes, moving a hand to her bangs, sliding it down her check as he tucked a curl behind her ear. Penny leaned, smiling, into his hand.
"Percy," she breathed.
"Penny," he replied.
The sound of people clamoring close by them brought them back to reality. Percy looked around almost guiltily, and Penny remembered the day his younger sister had walked in on them in the Charms classroom. He never really was a fan of public displays of affection. She doubted he had changed so much as to be comfortable seen snogging in the middle of what was only hours ago a battle zone, surrounded by all sorts of influential witches and wizards. She smiled, and looked up at Percy as his gaze returned to her.
"We should be with our families," she said to him reluctantly. "It's the right thing to do. Besides, yours needs you right now. I'm glad you've made up with them." She smiled. "And with me," She added after a pause.
"So am I," Percy told her, grinning almost sheepishly as he removed his arms, placing space once more between their forms. "Where are you going to be, after you leave here?"
"I still keep that house in Puddlemere," Penny responded, "though," she added after some thought, "I suppose, with all that happened tonight, I'll likely be at my parents in Dorset. You?"
"I rent the same flat in London, though I'll likely be in Ottery St. Catchpole, at the Burrow."
Penny nodded. Times of grief generally meant that the entire family tree would return to its roots. Particularly in Percy's case, she suspected his family, who held onto each other so tightly, woud scarely let him leave the Burrow for some time following their reconciliation. "Right."
"I'll be in touch," he assured her. "Soon."
"You'd better." Penny smiled gently. "Go," she told him. "Be with your family. Honor your brother and I'll honor mine." She read the expression on his face like the lines of her favorite book, both protesting their parting and longing for the company of his long-estranged family. She kissed him once more, swiftly, as she often had in quiet corridor corners between classes, years ago. Penny certainly didn't want to leave his side, not now, not after the fear and tragedy of the last few hours, but she made herself think of all the many days they had ahead of them.
"The war's over, Perce," she assured him. "We have all the time in the world."