Life moved quickly, too quickly in January. Due to the nature of drowning in her homework and extra coursework, Penny did not notice, as life became naturally busy again. It was odd how she recovered herself and returned to normal life. Though, her and Snape definitely were not on normal terms. Since their weird moment in the potions classroom when he stormed out, he'd been distant and brisk with her.
Both he and Penny were being uncharacteristically restrained during their Friday lessons where Snape endeavored to lecture to her the importance of controlling one's emotions, delving into the theories of Legilimency and Occlumency. What was conveniently absent was any real information on what expression was capable of and how emotions related to living with it, along with any practical testing of the connection between the two regarding her outbursts.
Snape seemed especially reluctant to broach said topics and dodged all of Penny's questions, leaving her frustrated and feeling liks she was wasting her Friday nights. She'd much prefer to spend her time catching up with homework, or napping. But she made no remarks, determining to find information herself, seeing as everyone felt the need to use a lot of words to tell her absolutely nothing. It gave her the inkling suspicion that they were hiding something from her, and if anything motivated Penny it was a good mystery, she was after-all, Harry's twin.
On the topic of Harry, he'd finally admitted that he lied about the progress he'd suggested he'd made with the mysterious egg. It should not have been a shock to Penny, but she kicked herself for not realizing her twin was hiding something from her sooner. Not knowing what he would be facing was a horrible prospect that Penny dedicated most of her time to, resulting in her falling behind in her homework. So she started pulling all nighters to catch up and was looking like a walking zombie. But in comparison to Harry getting hurt during the task, lack of sleep was a small price to pay.
Unfortunately, her Professors took notice of Penny's uncharacteristic drowsiness. Professor McGonagall even pulled her aside to speak with her on the topic. While she did not directly broach the topic of Harry, she insinuated realizing Penny was worried about her twin and offered her an extension on her essay on how environments impact transfiguration. Penny was unsettled but grateful, and woefully unprepared for McGonagall to take on an oddly maternal tone in lieu of her normal harsh one to tell Penny she was proud of her and continually impressed with how hard she worked. The conversation made Penny feel the same swell in her chest Lupin normally caused.
After weeks of struggling to no avail to decipher the egg, Harry finally caved and confessed that Cedric had suggested to him he should take the egg with him for a bath, saying he owed Harry one after the first task. Penny tried to pretend to be unperturbed by the mention of Cedric, whom she had not spoken to in almost a month. (Apparently her invitation to honesty wasn't appealing to him.) Burying her scowl, Penny turned her fury on Harry who agreed to try Cedric's advice soon. Satisfied they might actually make progress, Penny let it go and focused her energy on eating. Remedial lessons with the nuisance, Mad-Eye Moody was in ten minutes and Penny needed to be on her game to deal with the man and his unorthodox methods for teaching.
Needless to say, the lesson was not going well half-way in, with Penny struggling to get her wand to produce a stunning spell, and as a result was knocked backward on the floor by Moody's own spell. Laying on her back, her body aching, Penny seriously considered the legality of a professor forcing a student to endure their attacks. But seeing as the DADA position was cursed and Dumbledore had such a hard time finding a willing professor this year, she suspected he was turning a blind eye to such questionable practices.
"That was lazy Potter, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you thought this was a waste of time," Moony growled, fixing her with his magical eye.
"I mean, you're not wrong, what's the point of all this?" Penny snapped, getting up and dusting herself off.
"The point? The point in being able to protect yourself?" Moody said, aggressively, seating himself on the edge of his desk.
"I can protect myself just fine, and have proven so on many occasions," Penny said, her eyes narrowing in irritation.
"That's because you've never been put in a situation where you were without magic. Grindelwald understood, practiced his wand work because when Dumbledore showed up he knew his expression would be useless," Moody barked, his real eye bulging in a deranged sort of manner.
"Why would his expression be useless against Dumbledore, that makes no logical sense," said Penny, skeptically.
"Sense, you speak to me of sense, girl, when you clearly have none!" Mood laughed, and then he took a long swig from his hip flask while Penny stared at him feeling slightly disgusted by the sight before her.
"The sense comes from nature, and with magic, nature always produces balance. For a jinx there is a counter-jinx, a poison an antidote. Even the physical world follows these principles; there is a sun and a moon; the ocean has a beach; and evil is opposed by good. These things coexist and some argue they can only exist because of the other. So, where there is expression there is also a coordinate. Don't be fooled by much of the recent lore on the subject that touts 'harmony' as central to the relationship. It's codswallop and gives the impression the two skip off into the sunset together, which couldn't be farther from the truth."
"I don't understand, are not all the other examples in harmonious relationships? Why would this be any different?" Penny said, feeling paralyzed by her curiosity.
"Hasn't anyone explained this to you! Unless. . ." Moody said sharply, scrutinizing her with both eyes. "They thought it was better not to. In which case, I probably shouldn't-"
"Please! I have the right to know don't I?" Penny pleaded.
"Aye, you do. And I've never been much into coddling, it'll be better for you in the long run, you should be prepared. Alright, take a seat first," he said, motioning to the chair beside her while he took the one before him and turned it around to face her.
"The bearer of expression and the coordinate are attracted to each other because their nature are opposites, and when opposites get close enough, they become one, completing the dyad. A dyad united is harmonious, quelling the chaotic force of expression, a force some scholars have likened to that of death. The coordinate is able to transform that energy. It's even said, in unity, the dyadic force is the very essence of life itself and can be used to heal and even bring the other back from death. But there is no proof of that," said Moody, glancing over at Penny as though to check she were still listening.
She nodded, too afraid any noise of hers might cause him to change his mind.
"Sounds fine and dandy until one places such a relationship in context of human greed and power."
"What does that have to do with it?" Penny asked, her brows furrowed in thought.
"Think, Potter! What human relationships have you ever seen be so straight forward? An attraction that strong, coupled with the power of life itself- it's volatile, and subject to our emotional whims. And then there is also the issue that while the two are connected by time and space, they are not necessarily united, or even realize until many years of life have been lived. The person you are connected to could be more interested in power, or not interested at all," said Moody, impatiently.
"Why not just forgo the bond all together, it seems like the obvious answer here," said Penny, feeling bemused.
"You assume this is nothing more than a school crush and underestimate the power of the magic at work here. Think of the magic compelling your brother to participate in the tournament, and then times that by the length of time and space and you have the dyad," replied Moody, tapping his wooden leg on the hard floor.
Penny looked away from the man, as much as she wanted information from him, she still found being in his company disturbing. For whatever reason, she did not trust the gnarled existence, and felt like something was off, but she could not pinpoint what. Yet, he was the first person to share any information with her, information Dumbledore had to already know, so why did he refuse to share it?
Whatever the reason, she had it now, though she questioned whether it made her feel any better. Her and Snape were forced together by magic? In all honesty, she'd always used the word magnetized to describe her relationship with the potions master. How else would one describe continually returning to argue with such a snarky, bad tempered man? The prospect she would never escape the man was a rush and annoyance at the same time. If he continued with his brisk attitude towards her, their forced union would be a living hell on earth.
"So, in this worst case scenario you described, what happens? Since I can't just avoid the person for eternity?"
"Good Potter, finally asking the right questions," he grinned.
Penny did her best not to flinch involuntarily at the horrific sight.
"The dyad at war is what you are referring to, it allows the chaotic energy to reign unchecked. For the bearer of expression, this can cause irreversible damage to the nervous system because they cannot share the burden with the coordinate for fear they will steal it and use it for their own desires, or the coordinate rejects it for some reason."
"This arrangement sounds pretty rubbish for the one with expression," Penny said, darkly, feeling like it would not be out of character for Snape to let her suffer.
"It would seem so at first. While expression is chaotic, the coordinate bears the burden of the curse. Remember that the coordinate attracts this energy, and the essence of expression, without the bond, is death."
"So what, death follows them around all their life?" Penny asked, sardonically.
"Precisely, but it doesn't affect them, instead it takes those closest to them," Moody said, looking morbidly excited by the prospect of such a horrific existence.
Penny was horrified and speechless, and suddenly very self aware. She looked down at her hands and felt grossly conscious once again of the movement of energy through her veins, recalling distantly how what came from them moved through the percolator and sucked the life from the tortured animals. This same power, the power over life, the power of death those evil men milled from her to do what exactly? The prospect was too horrific for her to come to terms with. And Snape, for whatever reason was damned to bear this burden of hers? Had he already lost someone he loved? Were he and Penny at war? She certainly did not feel united with him.
"Hang on, can we backtrack just a little? Now that I understand the relationship a bit, why am I learning wand work if you just stated the two can be at war?" said Penny, snapping herself out of her stupor because she needed to utilize what little time left she had with Moody.
"Hmm?" growled Moody, who had apparently been ignoring her. "The dyad is at war, not the expression. Expression is useless against coordinates. If it is used it can be syphoned and turned against them. It's why Grindelwald fought Dumbledore with a wand," Moody said, waving off the question as though it were obvious.
He stood up to signal the end of the conversation, but Penny's head snapped in his direction, the reality of what he said hitting her like a tidal wave.
"Do you mean to say, Dumbledore was Grindelwald's coordinate?" Penny said in barely more than a whisper.
Moody studied her for a moment and then finally said, "I imagine it's something that doesn't come up in casual conversation, but I do wonder why that werewolf pal of yours hadn't mentioned it. Remus Lupin is the only person Dumbledore allowed to record the details of his experience after finally facing Grindelwald."
If Penny did not know any better, she'd have guessed her mouth was hanging open. The shock that was spreading from her fingers to her spine rendered her completely unable to comprehend exactly what she was hearing. Moody looked her over, seemingly satisfied she was finally taking him seriously. While Penny saw Moody moving his mouth, she was not actually listening. Her brain was moving a million miles a second, overwhelming her with questions and thoughts.
"-you're too young yet. But we'll all be curious to see who it is," said Mad-Eye, startling her from her thoughts.
"Yeah, I'm sure it'll be real entertaining," said Penny, not bothering to mask her irritation.
The way Moody was observing her like some exciting science experiment reminded her of the Department of Mysteries and the way Yaxley had looked at her. Yet, she was forced to be grateful to Moody. He'd been honest with her when even Lupin hadn't been. Lupin, who Penny trusted more than anyone had withheld such information from her. But why? Penny found she did not care why, the pain in her chest overwhelmed her logic and made it impossible for her to be reasonable. And Dumbledore, what had he thought when Penny had sat across from him and confessed it was Snape? She remembered the conversation being peculiar, but she never imagined. . . Was it to protect Snape? And Snape, did he even know?
Penny and Moody stared at each other for several minutes before he sent her on her way, tasking her to take her wand practice more seriously. Penny nodded and wandered back to the Gryffindor common room lost in the turmoil of her thoughts. She did not know what she was supposed to do with this information, part of her wanted to run the length of the castle to the stone gargoyle and demand answers from Dumbledore. But the other half was disgusted with herself and irrationally angry at the thought Lupin may have believed he was protecting her. The decision to withhold the truth left a chasm between her and Lupin, making Penny feel very alone under the weight of the new information. After all, she could hardly ask Snape about it. How was she supposed to deal with this? The burden was too great and Penny did not want it anymore.
She needed to talk to someone, she needed a parent. But her parents were dead, they couldn't help her. Gone because of a flick of Voldemort's wand-but then it dawned on her. She had the closest thing to her parents hiding in Hogsmeade as a dog, Sirius! He was her godfather, and Penny convinced herself he would know what to do, he had to. If she could just make it through her week of classes, she could sneak to his cave and talk to him. He would know what James would have thought better than anyone.
Getting to Saturday was easier said than done. Penny found herself unable to think of anything else other than what Moody had told her. It consumed her all of her waking thoughts. Harry was worried about her and asked her about it, but Penny dodged the question. She just didn't know what to say or how to explain it, not before seeing Sirius. She told him she was worried about his next task, which wasn't a straight lie, it just wasn't the whole truth. Harry accepted the explanation and receded into the guilt of his procrastination, which satisfied Penny because it meant he might finally take the time crunch seriously.
By the time Friday potions came around, Penny was a nervous wreck, unable to sit still and obsessively checked the clock feeling like life was moving absurdly slow. She still hadn't forgiven Malfoy and was seated beside Neville for potions, tapping her finger in agitation, paying very little attention to the boy.
Snape was testing them on their knowledge of antidotes which was a breeze for Penny, the rest of her class, not so much. Even Hermione looked strained as she questioned herself again and again over her antidote, which was a shade too dark. Penny surmised she'd added the beetroot before stirring three times counterclockwise, which was a common mistake.
Her own potion was a crystal blue that reflected the candle light of the room quite prettily. But she did not admire it, being too overwhelmed with the horrible thought that someone close to Snape may have died sometime in his life, with it being her fault. She kept looking at the man and glancing away nervously when his dark eyes looked back at her. He'd said nothing to her all class by completely avoiding her table, to Neville's delight. But with ten minutes to go, her luck ran out.
"Ms. Potter, is there a reason you are twitching like a heroin addict?" his smooth voice said, as he appeared in front of her, startling Penny so much, she jumped in her seat.
"I'm not twitching," Penny quickly murmured to her cauldron.
His long slim hand came down angrily on her right hand, stopping her finger's violent tapping she hadn't noticed. Snape's eyes bulged a little and his eyebrow raised in challenge.
"I hadn't noticed," said Penny, focusing on his hand which was sending small vibrations through her own.
She wanted to understand it, to know what was transpiring between them, but the connection also agitated her. She was bad for Snape and could only bring misery, so she slid her hand away from him and began biting her lip instead.
'What did you take?" he hissed under his breath.
In her confusion, she finally looked up into his face and was shocked to find worry lines crossing his sallow features.
"N-nothing, sir," Penny said, honestly.
The bell rang so Snape addressed the class, his eyes not leaving Penny's face. "Leave a vial with your name on it on my desk and you may go," he said coldly.
When Penny made to leave he added, "Except you."
His hands held the edge of her table, his knuckles unusually red against the pale backdrop of his smooth skin. Penny tried her best not to fidget under his gaze as her peers filed out, but found the effort exhausting, so she resulted to tapping her foot but stopped abruptly when the door closed with a thud.
She was trapped, trapped in his snare. Surely he would see right through her and she'd have to finally ask him, to speak of this wretched curse.
"Sir?" Penny finally asked, when he did not break the silence.
"Your head of house made mention you have not been yourself. She says you are subdued, withdrawn and seems to think trauma is taking its toll on you," Snape said, trying not to sneer, and failing miserably.
"Sure, trauma. It couldn't possibly be the devolution of our-whatever we have, the horrible things you said about Cedric, or the way you've been ignoring me this last month. But sure, call it trauma if it makes you feel better. " Penny replied, exasperated.
Even in her turmoil, she still had a bone to pick with Snape and his abandonment. She couldn't blame him for the other stuff because she wasn't certain he was even aware, like Lupin had been. But he was keeping something from her and felt being mean to her was the only way to deal with it, never-mind the toll on her.
"Of course you think yourself the victim, there is never the consideration in your perspective that sometimes your actions are the harmful ones," spat Snape.
"I'm 14! You're like 40! It's expected I'll be an idiot, but a well meaning mentor would, you know, help me learn, instead of torturing me every chance he got!" fumed Penny.
"35," hissed Snape through pursed lips.
"What?"
"I'm 35, not 40," he said, his lips barely moving.
"You say that like there's a difference," Penny said, condescendingly.
"There is!"
Penny's eyebrow arched in angry amusement and she crossed her arms.
"You have clearly missed the point. Was it because you need me to stroke your ego first? Don't worry Professor, you might act like a miserable old man, but you still radiate the arrogance of a 17 year-old git, and that skin, you'll have to give me your skin routine, it's deeee-vine." Penny said, sardonically.
Snape's hands had left the desk and he took a step back from her, his whole frame shaking in anger.
"How cute, deflecting any personal responsibility in your own misery to avoid accepting what a nuisance you are to others, next time try taking the hint sooner and save yourself the effort," Snape said in a biting tone.
His words cut through Penny as though she were butter. Fighting with Snape was a welcome distraction, but she'd allowed her anger to get the best of her, anger that was caused by Dumbledore and Lupin, not Snape. But Snape had repaid her in kind, his words, they prodded at the horrible thought that she was a harm to his life, the prospect she would be damned to be drawn to him for the rest of her life while all he wanted was to be as far from her as possible. Her expression was a nuisance and perhaps he already knew it, even if he didn't say.
Her breath caught on her chest and before Penny knew what she was doing she'd turned on her heel and was racing toward the door. She was fleeing more than Snape, she was fleeing herself, her own damned existence. But his hard grasped caught a hold of her wrist and yanked her back, twisting her around to face him.
His dark eyes were narrowed, serious and probing, his fury no longer present.
"What would have placed that thought in your head?"
Penny stared at him, confused, and then realized he must have shared in her thoughts, though which, she knew not.
"If you answer me one question, I'll tell you. Have you ever lost someone you love?" Penny asked, terrified but desperate.
Snape's narrowed expression suddenly widened, and for a moment he looked consumed by grief and shock at the same time. His eyes glazed over, he was no longer looking at Penny, but seeing someone else, as she'd always, in the back of her mind known, but never acknowledged.
There was no other good reason why, when his eyes locked on hers. . .he returned to a moment he could never get back because she was dead. . .everyone had always told Penny and she'd been so stupid.
You are the spitting image of your mother, Lily.
Severus Snape had loved Lily Potter and Lily Potter was dead, dead because expression was a horrible evil. Snape was cursed to be destined to the daughter of the one he'd loved, which ultimately resulted in her demise. How twisted was fate to devise that Penny would be the reason her mother was dead.
It was a truth Penny wanted to escape, like Snape was in the depths of her eyes that were so like Lily's, and when his grasp slackened, Penny did just that.
She turned and ran without looking back, ran from the one she needed most.