A/N: My beta is going to kill me. Therefore, I dedicate this story to her, in order to guilt-trip my way out of a one-way ticket to the obituary pages.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Potterverse. 'nuff said.
Seven months. Seven months since the defeat of Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Seven supposedly glorious months.
Seven months. Far too long for Penelope Clearwater to have heard anything.
The blonde pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and pulled up her hood, then stepped out from the protective warmth of Flourish and Blotts into the biting cold of Diagon Alley. The flurries of snow that she had thought finished were starting up again, with a vengeance. Almost automatically, Penelope folded her fingers inside the cloak, her knuckles grazing the slightly coarse wool as she clasped the two edges together to heighten the effectiveness of the garment. That done, she set off into the chattering crowds, a silent shadow among the bright holiday capes and rattling piles of purchases.
It wasn't the fact that Percy Weasley had not sent her a single owl in months that galled the young woman. Neither was it that he had been listed among the living participants of the Battle of Hogwarts. The one thing damning him in her eyes was that, as far as she knew, he was perfectly capable of contacting her by any means necessary. Oh, hell, he could have shown up at her door on a cracked Shooting Star and she would have gone with him wherever he asked. Penelope let out a quiet snort of frustration and let her right foot fall with unwonted violence upon the slippery cobblestones of the street.
To call it misstep was an understatement. It was a catastrophe, a conglomeration of all the pettiest negative forces the universe had to offer, coming in a whirlwind to that one point in time and space. Penelope skittered forward in an ungainly two-step, arms flailing, mouth open in a shriek of surprise. With a thud, she was down among the many feet, her balance having relinquished its power after her ankle spun a strange way on yet another icy patch.
She lay there for a moment, stunned by her fall. The thick hood of the cloak had protected her head and neck from serious injury, but the odd twinges in her right ankle were telling a different story. Because of the way she had fallen, she now lay somewhat awkwardly on her back, brown eyes staring into the deluge of snowflakes that was now falling from the grey skies.
Finally, however, Penelope forced herself to get up; the reason being that it was patently ridiculous to lie there any longer. Painfully, she pushed herself into a sitting position out of the main foot-traffic and took a quick inventory of her well-being. Head, arms and torso were unharmed, save a few scrapes and bruises. Her legs, though…quite a different story. She rose to her feet with relative ease, stood for a moment, then sank against the nearest wall with a soft cry of pain. Oh, bollocks! A twisted ankle was just what she needed. Muttering some less than ladylike things under her breath, Penelope let herself drop onto the pavement. What a way this day was going! All she needed now was for someone to recognize her in this state…
"Penelope?"
And speak of the devil! Thank you, Murphy's Law. Brushing aside several of the disheveled curls that hung in her face, Penelope turned her head in the direction of the voice.
As soon as she saw who it was, she heartily wished she'd stayed in Flourish and Blotts for the afternoon. Of all the people she wanted to see while sporting a twisted ankle, dirty cloak, scraped palms and an unraveling coiffure, Percy Ignatius Weasley was probably lowest on that list. Her cheeks turned a fiery red. Her mouth was open to say something, but all that came out was an odd squeaking noise.
Her discomfort had been duly noted, it would seem. Unfortunately, Percy took it a different way.
"It…it is Penelope Clearwater, isn't it?" He said uncertainly. "If I've mistaken you, I'm sorry…"
"No, no, it is me!" She smiled up at him as best she could, given the position she found herself in. "I just seem to find myself in a bit of a rut, that's all…"
"Oh, of course." There went the pompous tone she'd known so well, and it brought a little smile to her face. "Let me help you up, Penelope, it's not right for you to be sitting on the ground."
Her semi-reminiscing quickly turned to panic. "No, no, I'm fine! It's—"
Too late, Percy had taken her hand and pulled her to feet. The pain came quicker and sharper this time. Penelope let out a howl and collapsed against the wall again, her eyes smarting.
"What's wrong?" There was more than a hint of concern hiding behind his portentous demeanor. Penelope found that rather endearing, even in her current situation.
"It's my ankle," she explained, controlling the tears that were threatening to spill forth. "I slipped on a cobblestone and my foot spun in a funny way…I think I twisted it. My ankle, I mean."
"Why didn't you say something?"
"You pulled me up before I could."
"Ah." There was an uncomfortable pause. Percy looked at his feet. Penelope took the opportunity to put up her hood in order to hide the unwanted heat in her cheeks.
Finally, Percy cleared his throat and spoke.
"I'll tell you what. I'll see what I can do for your ankle, and then we'll go for a butterbeer in the Leaky Cauldron. You really shouldn't be sitting alone out here."
Penelope smiled. "Of course."
Without so much as a glance at her, Percy knelt on the pavement and pulled out his wand. The gesture was quite probably just for the convenience of getting to the injured body part, but Penelope found this to be strangely tender as well.
"Episkey!"
As was customary with that particular spell, Penelope felt her ankle go very hot, then very cold. Gingerly, she pushed herself onto her feet. Nothing. She shook her right foot gently. Still nothing. That was to be expected. Now, if only she had thought of that! Logic went right out the window in the face of pain.
Percy, meanwhile, had risen to his feet and replaced his wand in his cloak. Penelope folded her hands once again in the wool of her cloak, but stopped short when a little flash of trepidation shot through her companion's face.
"What's wrong, Percy?"
"It's nothing, it's silly," he said. The pompous tones were gone again. Twice in one day? Something was going on.
"Tell me."
"Well…you remember at Hogwarts, when you used to take my arm in the corridors?"
A small bolt of lightning shot through her palms. He'd remembered? It had been years since she'd last done that. She nodded, feeling her face go hot once again.
He held out his arm genteelly, as he used to. "Miss Clearwater, may I have the privilege of escorting you to the Leaky Cauldron?" It was an exaggerated gesture, with appropriate tones of overblown haughtiness to go along with it. But there was something behind it, something that made Penelope grin and tuck her right hand around his left arm. He smiled back at her, and then they were off down the street. Two shadows, instead of one.
After about five minutes, the pair passed through the back entrance into the smoky warmth of the Leaky Cauldron. Penelope found herself remembering why she had loved Christmas. In the Muggle World it was beautiful, but even the most decorated nonmagical manor paled in comparison to a Wizarding pub at Yuletide. Fairies fluttered about on the ceiling, little glows of color against the warm candlelight of the Leaky Cauldron. Icicles shimmered fantastically along the banister leading to the upper rooms, the edges of the tables and the bar. The flames of some of the candles had been enchanted to turn green and red; there were many more things, but she could not take them in all at once.
"G'Afternoon, " Tom the barman called. Percy nodded stiffly. "What'll it be, then?"
"Two butterbeers, please." It was easy to tell that Percy wanted to be rid of him as quickly as possible.
The steaming tankards came up soon enough, and the pair took their seats near one of the erratic candelabras. Penelope was too interested in the small creatures in the rafters to notice that Percy was not droning on about thin cauldrons and broom regulations as he was wont to do. There was, however, a certain air of unease that hung about her companion, gradually thickening until her attention was forced away from the lights and onto his face.
"So, er…how've things been at the Ministry?" It was a rather clumsy attempt at starting a conversation. The atmosphere had seemingly congealed into a thick block of awkward gelatin, and Penelope squirmed in her chair.
"The Ministry does as it will do," he said, and she was unnaturally pleased to hear a little note of disdain in his voice. "Though things are getting better under Shacklebolt. We're still reeling after the last minister—"
"Pius Thicknesse, right?"
"Right. His name fits him, don't you think? Piety to his Master, and utter stupidity." Penelope chuckled at this last remark, and took a sip of her butterbeer. Percy continued, "The Aurors have been rounding up the Snatchers, the Wizengamot have been putting them on trial, and the Dementors have been taking them to Azkaban. It's really quite simple. I haven't been doing much, recording the trials, acting as a notary and so forth. It's enough to find oneself heartily weary of paperwork."
Penelope's eyes widened in mock astonishment. "Percy Weasley, the great prefect, tired of paperwork?"
"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Perhaps her ears were fooling her, but the joviality in his voice seemed rather strained. She waited until he finished a swallow of his drink, and then listened harder as he continued. "But that's really not interesting. What have you been up to, Penny? I haven't heard for you from months, so I'll take the liberty to assume that you were too busy."
She looked at him blankly. The nickname had hit her with the force of a blow, and she had to think for a moment before his question could be processed. "Hm? Oh…nothing really. My apprenticeship for a Healer position is almost finished, so I'll become fully-qualified sometime next May."
"What ward are you going to work in?"
Penelope shrugged. "Something on the Potion and Plant Poisoning floor, I think. I'm not quite sure yet."
"It'd suit you."
"Oh…d'you think?" She smiled into her lap, somewhat foolishly. "I really am looking forward to it. I…"
The sentence trailed off as she looked up. Percy quickly looked away, sparing her the discomfort of meeting the intensity of what had been on his face a split second before. Not knowing what else to do, she took another quick sip of her butterbeer.
"I never went with anyone else, you know."
Penelope looked up from her drink, somewhat timidly. Behind the horn-rimmed glasses, Percy's eyes had taken on a hectic brilliance.
"Never. Not once did I look at another girl like you, Penny." The passion in his voice was such a change from his usual pretentious tones that she had an insane desire to laugh. "I had my chances—you wouldn't believe what some of the witches I've met would do to marry into the Minister's favor!—but I couldn't follow through on any of them. Something was restricting me."
At this last statement Penelope felt the first stirrings of anger gathering in her throat, swift and acidic. "I'm so very sorry that a simple Hogwarts romance kept you from marrying into a good family," she snapped, her cheeks hot. "I wasn't aware that my memory would be such an inconvenience."
"I didn't say that—"
"You might as well have said it!" She cried, slamming her butterbeer on the table. Several patrons cast dubious looks in her direction. "Percy Ignatius Weasley, the great Assistant to the Minister, hindered in his progress because he couldn't get the pesky recollection of a lowly Trainee Healer out of his head! Why don't you try a Memory Charm next time? I hear they work well."
"Penny!"
"And here I thought you would be happy to see that I still cared." With a savage movement, Penelope swung her cloak off the back of the chair and about her shoulders. Never minding the fact that she drove the pin of her clasp into her finger, she fastened her cloak and crossed her arms. "I'm sorry to be such a bother. " Her voice broke. "I'm going now. Thanks for the butterbeer. Happy…Christmas…"
And picking up her skirts, she fled out the back door of the Leaky Cauldron.
The snow was now whirling about in a proper storm, and it was with difficulty that the disoriented Penelope found her way to the gate-wall. She stumbled over to it, biting her lip, trying in vain to check the tears of rage that were coursing down her cheeks. So much for a decisive exit. Pulling out her wand she began to hunt for the brick that would allow her access into the crowds beyond.
"Penny?"
She would not turn. A response was too good for him.
"Penny, please…"
All right, perhaps these wheedling tones would merit a retort. Penelope turned from her search to face him.
The bitter rejoinder she had ready for him was lost. It was if she was seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time since sixth year. He stood there among the falling snowflakes, all false grandeur completely gone. Penelope pressed her back to the wall as a sort of ballast against this new veneer of helplessness.
"What am I to do?" His voice was hardly louder than the capricious winter breezes. "You've always been the girl in my thoughts, the one who I looked for in Diagon Alley—"
"The one who held you back from a decent marriage."
"I phrased it wrong." He came towards her, a solid shadow among the snowflakes. "You know you're the only one who I could have been happy with."
He was standing close, very close to her. She could feel his hot breath on her cheekbones. It was all she could do to keep herself from throwing herself at him. With a massive exertion of will, she forced herself to look up at his face without losing her poise.
It happened so fast, Penelope hardly knew what was going on. One moment his mouth was set firmly in a line, and the next it was upon hers. His arms were locked tightly around her waist as the force of his kisses pushed her against the wall. She found her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his flaming hair. Her hostility melted at his touch, dissolving like sugar in tea. For the first time since she'd left Hogwarts, Penelope felt her mind spinning away from the realms of logic and into a dimension so strange and lovely that words only captured its shadow.
Finally, and with obvious reluctance, Percy pulled his lips from hers. Penelope simply looked at him, floating in a shell-shocked daze. Her head lolled against the wall, and it was not until he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear that she regained her speech.
"You know, Perce…that thing you said about how you could only be happy with me?" It was a grammatical marvel, under the circumstances.
"Mm?" His hands moved back about her waist. She smiled impishly at him and dusted a little of the snow out of his hair.
"I concur."
"I'm glad you do," Percy said smoothly. Penelope reached up to touch his cheek, and with that simple touch, his mouth was to hers again. She grinned against his kisses and murmured three words.
"Happy Christmas, Perce."
A/N: And there you have it, one fluffy PercyPenelope fic on the rocks.
Merry Christmas, everyone!