After Penelope left, Percy managed to convince himself to hop into the shower. Goodness knows he needed something to wash off the sweat, dirt, dried blood, and who knew what else. The steaming water felt marvelous, almost threatening to wash him away into peaceful oblivion. He lost count of time as he let it pour over him. He could remain there forever and forget about everything: his family, the Ministry, Voldemort's return, Brown, The Order of the Phoenix, everything that was messing up his present life. Except Penelope.
His Penny. Even if she didn't want to be called that, she was still Penny. He still felt her; the morning kiss now seemed to be ages ago, yet still utterly tangible. It was embarrassing to admit that he, Percy Weasley, could be controlled by something as trivial as a kiss or a hug-a properly responsible human being would have more constraint than that. His brothers had once teased him about that, upon discovering he and Penelope were together. They found it incredibly funny that someone like him could have time for a girlfriend, that someone like him could even get a girlfriend. It was an utter anomaly. Even to himself he had to admit that it didn't make any sense. A girlfriend was something extra, a burden, something someone needed to fulfill themselves as if they weren't already complete. Shameful. So maybe he wasn't as perfect as he and everyone else thought. He had once had Penny. Was it too much to hope that he could have her again?
Somehow, he didn't think it was. He had even hated her once, at the end of his seventh year at Hogwarts when everything was falling apart, when she had approached him with the all-too-true accusation that he was selfish, heartless, and a thousand other things. But that hate hadn't lasted long. He had tried to see her again the next year, when he came to the Triwizard Tournament, but she had refused any contact but a cold stare across the room. That was it, her final judgement. He was no longer a part of her life, and he was no longer a part of hers.
But she came back. She even said she still hated him. At first. It hadn't just been the accidental meeting at the office; she had come to see him even after that. And the coldness eventually stopped. She had started conversations, she had shared her ideas. She wanted his help against Brown. Far be it from him to claim understanding of a woman's mind, but she seemed to see him differently now. He remembered the look on her face when she mentioned the scars on his wrist: relief, curiosity, and joy. His heart pounded just thinking about it. To her, the scars had seemed an answer, one with which she was terribly pleased. And she had demanded to see them again, like they were proof she had to be sure of it. And her reaction was the same.
And, while he couldn't be sure of anything during the blurry moment, she had kissed him. That was the most important thing. She had kissed him. Whatever that meant, it had to mean something good.
He wished he could stand in the shower forever, but he had a job to get to, and showing up late wouldn't be impressive. Despite the dubious alliance of his boss-Percy had to laugh at that thought. So he convinced himself to turn off the water and get ready for work. The froggy theme of the bathroom suddenly didn't seem so awful. The smiling green frogs were rather cute. Wow. Something was seriously wrong with him. Or right. Humming to himself, he got dressed.
He was about to leave when he spotted something lying half-invisible in the corner. Ginny's letter from the previous week, the one he had never decided to whether to reply to or simply forget. He stared at the crumpled ball for a long time, then picked it up and smoothed it out. His sister's familiar handwriting, cutesy and complete with hearts for dots, still shown strongly despite the wrinkled parchment. He read the letter several times. He had always cared for Ginny; that was the necessary role of the big brother. All of his brothers had, for Ginny was the only girl and the baby of the family. She was there fore them to protect and take care of. What kind of creep was he to leave her? And yet, what kind of example had he been for her? At least he owed her another letter. He still had a few minutes before he had to be at work. He didn't have to be super-early everyday. He found a piece of parchment and addressed it "Dear Ginny."
His quill froze above the comma. What exactly was he going to put? If he replied to Ginny's implied questions, well, that wouldn't get either of them anywhere. With a deep sigh, he resumed writing. He said the usual, that he was fine, how was she, was she still excited for school-it was to be her sixth year. He thought about mentioning something of Brown and the issues at hand, but owl post was too dangerous, especially if Ginny and the rest of the family were still in the Order of the Phoenix, and of course they were.. He had to write about Penelope, he suddenly realized. If he had anything to talk about, that was it. Ginny was a young girl, and no doubt as silly and love-obsessed as always. She would eat up any reference to romance. So he did. Only a few sentences, but even that amount surprised him. He was never gushy like that. Penelope herself hadn't liked it, when they had been dating. But he read over them, and with some embarrassment decided they were gushy enough for being something he wrote. Just as long as Penelope never saw them. Ginny, of course, would love it. She had been the first one to know of their relationship in the first place. Well, at least there would be one thing from his letter his little sister would appreciated.
Hermes was waiting outside the tent, as if expecting he would be required to deliver a letter. Percy rolled the letter up and tied to the screech owl's leg, who then flew off. Percy watched him until Hermes was a speck in the distant sky, then continued on to work. He was actually excited about sending that letter off. Surprising.
He surprising himself a lot that morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was something slightly uncomfortable about being a complete stranger in a new place, but it was a feeling that Remus Lupin was used to. Jobs, when he could get them, never lasted too long, so the familiarity of traveling to new places was strong. He kept to himself as he trudged through Dragon's Tooth, smiling politely at the few people he saw when they caught his eye. Remus was ordinary enough in appearance to cause no distraction, and the citizens of a tiny town no one had even heard of appeared to regard him as only a mild curiosity. Even they couldn't be immune to an occasional traveler passing through; no doubt that was how Percy Weasley had gotten his job. Whatever the reason, some ignorance was best for Remus.
He still wasn't sure what to think of the town. It seemed ordinary enough, an appearance that Penelope had been sure to put in her letter. Other than that, she had said very little, due to need to secrecy and caution. But she had said enough to cause Dumbledore concern, and Remus had been quick to volunteer for the mission. There was no other choice, really; he was beginning to understand how Sirius Black had felt when nothing could be done. Remus was not a wanted man like Sirius had been, but the feeling was the same; it was crunch-time in the war, and all he could feel was this drowning sensation.
But even now, he did not know what to do. His first arrival in Dragon's Tooth had been exciting, what with the full moon and Brogan's attack on Penelope and Percy. Brogan Marchent. . . Remus sighed and shook his head, causing a girl with frizzy blonde hair to give him a strange look. He simply did not know what to make of Brogan. He seemed a good man, brave, determined, and honest. Instinctively, Remus trusted him. Perhaps that was why he had been so lenient with him that morning, when the Imperious Curse seemed to have worn off. Brogan's claims of being attacked with the dreaded curse were perfectly reasonable; Remus remembered the first war, where it had been impossible to know who was being forced into action against their free wills. There was nothing more terrifying than the loss of control of one's self. And Brogan had spoke with such honesty and sorrow that Remus was for the most part convinced. He had even given his suspicions of Brown, of Matthias Dormand's attack.
And yet, how he could he really be sure?
Then there was Percy Weasley. Remus was still in shock over discovering the boy here, of all places. Percy had never been the most popular of the Weasleys, but Remus had always liked him. He had taught him that year of teaching and had found him smart, responsible, and hard-working. Percy had many other good qualities as well. But even good qualities could be misused, and Remus still found it difficult to forgive or even believe the story Penelope had told. He supposed it was possible, that Percy had indeed tried to protect Arthur; then again, pretty much anything could be possible under the right circumstances.
From what Penelope had said, though, Percy was clearly not involved with Brown. And that cast some favor in Percy's direction. If he still followed the Ministry, why would he be out here? If he had nothing to do with Brown, why would he be out here? Yet all that depended on whether Penelope was telling the truth, or even knew what was really going on.
And yet it was none of Remus' business, he realized with some pain. He had grown close to the Weasley family over the past several years, and as a result grown close to the hurt Percy had caused everyone. He could argue that in a sense it was his business. But what would that do, to tell Molly and Arthur that he knew where their son was? Yes, it could be good, but then it could be bad. It all came down to the fact that if Percy had changed, it was up to him to contact his family.
Remus stopped in front of a small building. Penelope had described the office to him, but everything in the town looked so much a like that it was hard to be sure. Well, there was only one way to find out. He rapped on the door and waited, but a minute passed without anyone answering. He looked at the street around him. The few people that were in sight were paying him no attention. With that, he opened the door and stepped inside.
It was a bare room, with only a single, empty desk. Yet it was enough of an office.
"Hello?" he called. No reply.
He studied the back wall. There were no other doors, but an office wouldn't just have one desk. He walked up to the wall and examined it. Then, after a few minutes of examination, he pulled out his wand. There was a more advanced charm for more difficult hiding spells. Sure enough, a door appeared in the wall.
"Impressive," he muttered. He didn't bother knocking, but opened the door right up.
He had expected a strange room full of dark devices, the dream room of Alastor Moody. Or a more recognizable office. Or even just a room of clutter. Instead, there was nothing. A bare room with a wooden floor and spider webs in the corner. A tiny chest, hardly bigger than a wand box, sat in a dim corner.
And then there was a man, an elderly man with neat white hair and a dark blue robe. He lay flat on his back on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling.
