Percy wandered the village till near-evening, thinking. A strange character her must have looked, stumbling like a sleepwalker into people and places with utter blankness on his face and the murmur of an apology. No one said anything despite a few curious glances, and the hours spent in the corner of the pub with barely a sip of his drink went unquestioned. 'Just the new fellow' must have been the assumed reason. The village probably thought freaks of the rest of the world.
There had to be an explanation for what he had seen, the near-resurrection of Matthias Dormand. Percy's life was based on a faith in logic, as much as the magical world had to offer. After all, even magic and mysticism followed rules. So what was to be said for Dormand, a soulless corpse at one moment and a normal person the next?
With a heavy sigh he stared once against into his mug of butterbeer, which had grown disgustingly cold. What a waste of the little money he had. He could have gotten something stronger and given himself to drunkenness for the rest of his life—that at least would have been money spent for something. But no such fate. He fished his robes for a coin, slammed that onto the tabletop, and stood up.
The pub was reasonably busy. Not packed, but as full as one might expect it to be to give the owners something of a profit. Random small-town people scattered haphazardly among the tables and booths, talking or dreaming or stuck in the state Percy was in. At least they looked less burdened than he did, even the depressed. Were they all working with Brown? Did they have any idea whose side they were even on? How satisfying it would be to just jump on the table and scream out the whole mess! But how appreciated would that be, especially by himself when he was dragged away. . .to what? The same Demented fate as Dormand? Well, he had to do something.
For the first time, a set of eyes met his and stayed. Dark eyes, beckoning him. They belonged to the face of an older woman, seated by herself at a table near the center of the pub. She gave a frank smile and motioned him over.
Percy glanced to the side. Him? It had to be someone else. The woman noticed his confusion, shook her head, and beckoned again. Warm blood rushed to his face as he made his way over.
The woman looked vaguely familiar. Mental pictures glowed with images of the woman, but Percy couldn't quite make out the setting. Around the village, he supposed in the end. She looked to be in her fifties, with graying black hair and a kind face.
He hovered above the table, feeling obnoxiously noticed. "You wanted me, ma'am?"
The woman nodded. "Si, you. Remember, it's just as awkward for me when you don't come right off. Here's me, waving like an idiot in the middle of a pub. I suppose that's not too uncommon for pubs, though."
He didn't know how to reply to that, so he nodded.
"I've seen you around here," the woman continued. "Are you new?"
"Moved here last week, ma'am."
She raised a black eyebrow. "Muy polite. I'm impressed. I take it you're sick of the war?"
He snorted. If only she knew. "To be honest, ma'am, I couldn't mare much about it anymore."
"So you come here to get away. I see. Makes sense. Escape to a nice little unknown hamlet in the middle of nowhere. You-Know-Who will never look for you here." There was an edge to her voice, a tone not quite mocking, but very conscious all the same. When Percy failed to reply, she continued. "I'm afraid you're horribly mistaken, though. We have our problems out here, just like everyone else. You've heard about the dragons, no?"
Something he could finally make a proper answer to. "Of course I have. Matthias Dormand is working with them. Wants to protect them from the Dark Lord." The term, familiar to him, slipped out before he realized it. He drew a cutting breath, dropping his eyes to the table. "I. . . I work for Dormand."
The woman was silent for a long time, gently tapping her short, battered nails on the tabletop. Then she laughed. "I see. You seemed ashamed of it."
He rapidly shook his head.
She laughed again, a surprisingly warm, lovely sound. "But you don't seem to care either way. Interesting. Sospechoso. Yo lo apuesto está aquí para algo más."
Percy had no idea what the woman had just said; he couldn't even guess by the tone. "I have to wonder what makes it your business why I am here."
"Just making friendly conversation."
"With a complete stranger?"
She shrugged. "You had stood up. It made you obvious. And you seemed like a nice young man, and I'm much out of the way with today's youth. Back to your job. Are you enjoying it? Do you like Mr. Dormand?"
Now it felt like an interrogation from his grandmother. Awkward and uncomfortable in an entirely different way. But he somehow managed to look back at her. "It's a living."
The woman nodded, smiling sweetly. A crazy woman, but a sweet thing. Probably adored by her own grandkids. Then the smile flipped with suspicion, and her dark eyes narrowed. "Your face. . ."
The hood had slipped down. The scar. How many people know about that? "A hippogriff attack." He flipped his hood back up.
No suspicion. Only pity in the woman's expression. "How unfortunate. You should have gone to a proper healer in the beginning. That's my profession; I could have fixed you up in a momento."
"I don't mind it," he muttered. "Listen, it was nice to meet you, ma'am, but I must be going. I'm meeting someone."
"Oh!" The woman winked. "A chica? A lady friend?"
A smile forced its way onto his lips. "Yes. A lady friend."
Penelope was waiting outside the tavern when Percy came. The dying sun burned in at the horizon, casting shadows and flame over everything. She sat on a boulder outside the door, sunset caught in her curls, a textbook on her lap. A phoenix, he thought. No, she was more beautiful than that.
She slammed the book shut when she saw him approach. For a split second he thought she might throw it at him—that had happened before. But instead she let it fall to the ground; he couldn't tell if it were by accident or purpose. Then she stood, waiting, a nervous smile playing on her lips. "I thought you might come."
Percy forced a laugh, stopping at a far distance from her, not daring to come any closer. "I do that a lot. Not very proper of me."
She ran a hand through her curls. She was so pretty. "I don't mind. Did you get my note?"
He took a step closer, feeling like some predator. "Yes. You said you wanted to talk?"
"Here. Not in the woods." She said "here" like a command.
He nervously made his way towards her, then stared. She stared back.
"Pretty sunset," she finally managed in a mock-cheerful voice.
Why did girls like sunsets so much? Men were forced to like them in order to appear romantic. "It is nice."
"Mm." She forced a smile. "I'm sorry. I really did mean to talk."
He supposed he could mention the Dormand incident.
"I want to talk about this morning," she said. "The kiss. Like I mentioned in my note."
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean. . ."
"I'm the one who kissed you."
"I kissed back. It wasn't proper of me, taking advantae."
"I took advantage. I just thought I was back at Hogwarts for a moment. . ."
Was that it? A sudden memory relapse?
"But. . . I don't think I would have done that if I didn't still care." She sighed deeply and sat back down on the boulder. "I was really in love with you back then."
"Back then?" Something about that struck a nerve in Percy's body. "Was it just because I was a prefect? And Head boy?" The accusation surprised himself. He had liked those titles.
Penelope's head snapped up, shocked. "No! You can't think that!"
"It seemed to matter to everyone else. The only thing. That's how I wound up with that damn job with Fudge."
"I admit it was impressive," she said helpfully. "I think you deserved to be Prefect and Head Boy and whatnot."
Whatever.
"Here," she said, scooting over. "You'll get tired if you just stand there."
The boulder was small. Heart pounding, Percy squeezed next to Penelope. Another long lapse of silence ushered itself in.
"I thought you hated me because I was Head Boy," he finally said. "And everything that it implied."
She didn't deny. The expression on her face told him she couldn't deny it. "I like redemption, Percy. It's a good concept, and I believe in it."
He gave a bitter laugh. "It's more difficult than you might think."
"But you tried to protect me last night. . ." She sounded as if she wanted to say more. "Oh, goodness. That sounds so trite. Liking you because you saved me, like some damsel-in-distress. It's more than, you must believe me." She sighed again and met his eyes. "Percy, please say you forgive me."
He watched her, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He couldn't answer the question with a simple yes or no. This was the opportunity for something else. Something she might hate, but the opportunity demanded itself to be born. He leaned over and kissed her hard.
She didn't struggle, but gave herself to the kiss. When it ended, she smiled. "I'll that as a yes."
Percy found himself smiling. "So I take it. . ."
"I decided something this morning, Percy. I decided that I'm in love with you again. I even tripped on a pillow, I was so in love."
The words he had waiting to hear for years. Something he wasn't supposed to hear. From Penelope. His Penny.
She didn't seem to expect a reply. "I need to go back inside. I'm not repeating last night. First, a goodnight kiss." She kissed him again and darted back inside.
