Penelope amazed herself at the extent with which she was able to put up with Percy. Feminine sympathy was a curse, then, making excuses and explanations of why anyone would be so offended by a simple lack of truth. Most of his family were in the Order, a family he had made little contact with in years. Foolish of him to remain so stubborn, but she still didn't know all of what he had experienced. Who knew what fear he held for the Order, the Weasleys. What would they say or do if they knew where he was? How would they react? Real life was never as simple as anyone wanted it to be, and after what Percy had done to them it was unimaginable they couldn't harbor some scars. Penelope pitied him. Not, it was than pity. Despite his silly actions in the gully, she still loved him—they could be entitled to a small fight now and then, of course. She had dragged things from him, stories he'd probably never tell anyone else. And they didn't need to be told to the world. No one really needed to hear nightmares about Death Eaters and what not.
She just wished Percy would try to talk to his family in spite of his fears. What a rush she had felt upon learning he was writing to Ginny. That was one step. Percy had hurt Ginny, but had not severed all ties. But what about the rest of the family? The consequences would very likely be negative, but not as so as what was happening now. They didn't even know where he was; closure was necessary for everyone. If they estranged him or he did the same to himself, well, what was the present situation anyway.
She sighed deeply and punched the pillow before her as she lay on her bed, tears still fighting their ways out. These were things she needed to be telling him. If she truly loved him, she could tell him. Oh, why did love have to be so confusing? Her spilling thoughts had contradicted themselves a thousand times over. Who was she to judge Percy, just because she was his girlfriend? Percy wasn't a Death Eater, but did that mean he was the same loveable prefect she had known at Hogwarts?
She had heard something that explained the situation well. That thought, that strange line Crouch had used in his Matthis Dormand role. Brown. The color of redemption. Ever after something was accounted for, even after a person changed, he could never go back, not fully. The pure white was gone, the red sin was gone, all replaced by that color of earthy knowledge.
She laughed weakly and wiped her still-red eyes. Giving into symbolism. Symbolism that had been used as propaganda, even. Who had come up with the silly line, anyway? Surely the soulless couldn't be that creative. Yet perhaps it still retained some meaning. And what about herself? What was she doing but harboring a wanted criminal? And lying to the criminal just because she couldn't bring herself to break his heart by revealing herself a member of an organization he had so many issues with?
Breaking his heart. Was that what she had been trying to prevent. Incredible how irony worked.
A tentative rap at the door broken though her thoughts. She lifted her head from the pillow, gazing dully at the door as if she expected it to do something., like mock her for the bedraggled appearance she knew she must have.
The knock came again. "Penelope?" Pearl's voice asked. "You need to come out of there some time today."
Penelope had already chased Pearl out once. "I'm perfectly happy in here, thank-you very much." Much more snap than she actually felt toward her friend.
"You've been crying for hours," Pearl whined, opening the door. "Now you get to Asa. She wants to speak with you."
Asa probably wanted to bash guys with her again. Asa was wonderful, but she just couldn't understand. The Healer's fear of Percy. . . she couldn't claim proper fear without knowing the whole story—which Penelope was not about to give. With a few final sniffles, Penelope climbed to her feet. Might as well humor Asa.
Pearl shook her head in relief to see her friend properly up. Face aglow, she dowsed Penelope with a quick hair-brushing charm. "She wants to get on you about the training, I bet. Perhaps some teary eyes will earn you some blind pity."
"I'm not at all back on training," Penelope replied. "I'm guessing she wants to discuss.. . . men."
"You're right." Pearl frowned. "Goodness knows you need it. She wants you in her room."
Asa Cortez's room was a tiny apartment set in the corner of the tavern, leaving her purposely lacking a roommate and to her own privacy. Well, the woman was the Head Healer of the group. Hoping her eyes weren't pathetically red, Penelope knocked on the door.
"Entre, por favor, Miss Clearwater," came the cheery reply.
Penelope did, and found the Healer at her desk writing. Asa let her quill fall to the parchment as she looked up to greet Penelope. The quill left a heavy drip of jet-black ink all over the careful writing. Asa did not appear to notice. "I have a few things to discuss with you. Conjur up a chair for yourself."
"I'll stand, Healer Cortez." Penelope felt strange, a statue in a foggy night void of all emotions she knew she should be feeling except those concerning Percy. "Discussions" with superiors were rarely good, euphemisms that hid only the worst beratings. So where was the panic?
"Bien." Asa drew a deep breath and turned in her chair. "Lo primero es primero. I'm ending the training period early. We'll be going back to St. Mungo's next week."
"That soon?" A sparked reaction. A separation from Percy. "But we just. . ."
"Sì, sì. We'll probably return later. But now. . . I'd rather not be here. I care too much for my students." Her wrinkled face softened as she gave a sad smile.
"You're suggesting it's not safe here, Healer?" Brown. The Dementors in the gully. How much did Asa know? Empathy overcame Penelope. She had a glimpse of the terror Asa might feel.
Asa nodded. "Exactly. Too much el peligro, too much danger, for my students. Even you, Penelope, boy-crazy as you are. I warned you about that young man. . ."
Back to the dating. "It's nothing," Penelope said as her heart twisted inside of her. "Just a silly tiff."
"But perhaps it's not that chico extraño," Asa continued as if Penelope had never spoken. Her eyes glistened with tears. "I thought I could trust the aprendices I brought out here. I thought nothing would distract them from the art of healing. A noble idea. Oh, I don't mind summer flings—you're well up on your training—but there are other things. . ." She raised an eyebrow. "Do you have your wand?"
A strange question. "It's. . . it's in my room. I didn't think I needed it to talk to you. I was upset."
Asa waved the words aside, a tear escaping her eye. "No, no. Just curious.. . . oh, Penelope. You're such wonderful young lady and a talented healer. So sad." She took her own wand from the desk and traced a glowing circle in the air. The light shimmered, then froze and dimmed to a smoky gray ring.
A terrible feeling came over Penelope, a quickening of her heart, the sudden panic that should have been there the moment Asa called for her. And with that came realization. She glanced back at the door, imagining what spells locked it. Then her eyes were back on the ring.
A black shape appeared within it, tall and cloaked and carrying a deadening aura.
Penelope couldn't conjur a proper patronus. Especially not without her wand.
"For a long time, I didn't want to believe you were in the Order of the Phoenix," came Asa's voice from what seemed miles off. "Las noticias terribles, las noticias tristes, un descubrimiento que odio tanto. Sadly, I have higher devotions."
Penelope couldn't scream. There was room in her whirling mind for it. Too many horrible things to hear, to see. . .
Three days since the gully. Three horribly long, hard days without Penelope. Percy returned everyday to the tavern, demanding to speak to her, only to be told she didn't want to speak to him. How could she refuse him an explanation? After all she had put up with from him… it was his fault, he had to go and drag the worst in. Over a silly thing like that. He appreciated the secrecy of the Order. Evidently, Penelope must have had her reasons. Reasons to keep such a secret from him. He pained him to think he wasn't worth that kind of honesty. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had hurt Penny and she wouldn't listen to his apology.
Things were slipping back into frame. No work, just frequent rushes of plans of what to do know that Crouch, Jr. was no longer in the picture. He had been buried—Remus Lupin had insisted that much. Percy just couldn't understand why the Order hadn't been informed by that time. No doubt they would have found the reappearance of Crouch fascinating. Everyone in the village did, sickened by the idea that they had been deceived so. And then work picked up again, some semblance to keep life going while the Dementors lurked in the gully beneath them. And as the days passed, life was deemed fine.
Except for Penelope. Percy stopped again near the tavern, staring up at her window, waiting.
Someone had to be told that Barty Crouch, Jr. Was dead. Sooner of later, the Order would have to know. And with Penelope Clearwater still undercover, that task fell upon Remus Lupin. It was a task he had dreaded during the week following the murder, especially after leaving the village of Dragon's Tooth. Out of the village, back in the mainstream of the wizarding world, the revelations of Crouch's fate and the true nature of Brown seemed the obvious thing to do. But Remus had grown up keeping far too many secrets, and logically he couldn't see much threat from that area of the war, not with Lord Voldemort in so much power everywhere else. In all honesty, what could be said? Remus trusted Penelope; all in all, this seemed her dealing. So, again, he remained silent, holding some mirth at the notion of being under the command of a former student.
Besides, he had other challenges. As promised, he had not yet told the Weasleys about Percy. It had not been so difficult—the times around them had been reasonably few and more considerate of non-sentimental matters.
But then Molly had invited Remus to dinner, something ordinary and simple. A refreshment they all needed. No discussion on the war whatsoever, she stated in the tiger-like manner only Molly possessed.
Amazingly enough, the meal was not quite as awkward as Remus imagined it might be. The conversation remained light. After all, it was summer holiday, and topics managed to relate safely to Quidditch and the upcoming school year. No mention of Percy, and no stepping around him. There was nothing to step around; he didn't exist. The only anomaly was Ginny, who chattered away happily in her way, only to throw a serious glance at Remus whenever she could, a defiant dare that he ask her something. And he did once or twice, but she only replied by laughing and bringing up something trivial.
Remus felt strange in the house. He had grown comfortable at the Burrow in recent times, but after learning where Percy was, he felt like a liar, a cheat. The Weasleys deserved to know, and yet he didn't tell them. Did he not owe them that much? But the final answer was that it was simply not his responsibility.
Which was why he was so surprised when Ginny approached him as he made to leave. She came running from the door, hair streaming like fire behind her and face aglow. "Professor Lupin!"
He stopped, a smile coming to his face. He had enjoyed teaching, and it was always pleasant to hear that title. "Are you finally going to tell me what's on your mind?"
She stopped before him, looking suddenly very nervous. Her eyes fell to the ground, her body shifting as she crumpled something in he hand. Then her eyes were on his in a fling of the most bravery she could summon. "You know where my brother is."
It hadn't been the question he was expecting. No, not a question. A statement, a straight-forward accusation. Remus could only stare at Ginny, the small girl who evidently could say what he couldn't. "Which one?" he managed to stammer stupidly.
Ginny didn't flinch. "You know very well who I mean. I got a letter from Percy. . ."
"You've been writing to Percy?" This was something unimaginable.
She nodded. "Ever since he left. Mostly I write, but something replies."
This had never been mentioned before. He glanced at the house, wondering what this might look like. "Does your family know about this?"
"No. I think they'd get mad. Especially after what happened with Dad. . ."
The attack. Did Ginny know the truth. Well, if they were writing. . . "I think I interrupted you, Ginny. Carry on with what you were talking about before."
She nodded and drew a deep breath. "I got a letter from him. An actual happy one. He doesn't send a lot of those. But he talked about a girl and, well, I know the only girl he ever loved was Penelope Clearwater. So it had to be her. He didn't really say, but I know. And you've been out there helping her, and. . ." Her look became pleading.
He wasn't sure how to answer this. It was a request. Ginny apparently had to know. He bit his lip, considering his promise to Percy. How furious he would be if he learned Remus had tattled. But then again, Ginny already had guessed. He found himself nodding. "He's out there. He really didn't want you to know."
The nervousness washed from Ginny's face with one large smile. "That's good to hear. I. . . I actually was going to send you a letter asking you about it." She laughed and opened her hand to reveal a crumpled piece of parchment. "But then Mum invited you for dinner…oh, she wanted me to help her with the dishes!" A complete pivot to the worries of a normal teenage girl. "Thank-you so much for telling me. Goodbye." She darted back into the house.
Remus watched her until she closed the door, then laughed. He had always liked Ginny, she was a good kid. Amazing for writing to her brother like she did. He shook his head, scarcely believing. Perhaps there was hope for the family after all.
He had barely walked in the door of his home when he spotted the owl, a small reddish one patiently waiting at the windowsill, a note clasped to its talon.
"Mail's here," he said softly, taking the note and dropping a coin into the owl's money pouch.
It was a short note, scrawled in the neat handwriting he recognized as Penelope's.
"Dear Remus,
We've decided it's the best time to explain to the rest of the Order what's been going on out here. I think you should bring some others on your next trip out."
He read the note again, then set it on the table. What relief he felt. Another secret to get rid of.
