Happy update day! We are rounding the bend on the events of the Half-Blood Prince and I feel so sad and excited at the same time. I wanted this chapter to be a bit quieter (f thats the right word) just a moment at Hogwarts as the clock ticks against them all and sends them spiraling into chaos and hard choices. I wanted Penny to work through a few things, especially with Harry before we get to the 7th year when Harry and Penny will be separated.

Also, a couple of the scenes are taken/altered from Rowling's actual writing.

Hopefully that translated here and you enjoy!

With the start of February came the horrible wet weather Penny hated because it made her come up with all sorts of excuses not to take her normal runs which made her more irritable than she already was. These days she was too despondent and discontent. Nothing was keeping her attention, unless it was obsessing over Regulus Black.

She finally put her foot down one afternoon with about an hour and a half to spare to curfew, and just to cover her bases, checked with her head of house about going out for the run. While Professor McGonagall wasn't enthusiastic about the idea, she gave Penny leave to go under the condition she checked back in with her when she returned.

The rain stopped half-way through her lap around the black lake, but she was already drenched by this point and covered in mud. The sky was dark and Penny knew she should head back, but she decided to do her last leg through the edge of the forest before making her way back to the castle. Her watch told her that if she hurried, she would make it with time to spare.

The cold air searing her lungs and intoxicating her senses was a welcome escape. While running, her brain could not think, wallow, or ponder; it was free from the confines of itself, from the obsession of Regulus and the guilt that never gave her peace.

It wasn't until she tripped, face first into a bog of mud that she came spiraling back to reality. Cursing the root that caught her foot and trying to futilely remove mud from her face with muddy hands, she caught the sound of voices approaching somewhere just beyond the trees.

Peering through the branches, Penny saw two tall figures coming to a stand still some 15 feet where she was stuck in the mud, not seeming to have noticed her,

"What are you doing with Potter, all these evenings you are closeted together?" It was Snape's voice, Penny realized, now recognizing the familiar silhouette.

"Why? You aren't trying to give him more detentions, Severus? The boy will soon have spent more time in detention than out," replied the familiar tones of Dumbledore.

"He is his father over again—"

"In looks, perhaps, but his deepest nature is much more like his mother's. I spend time with Harry because I have things to discuss with him, information I must give him before it is too late."

It was at this point, looking around nervously, Penny realized this was a conversation she was likely not supposed to be privy to. But the mention of Harry kept her from announcing her presence. So Snape also knew about his secret wanderings that were apparently orchestrated by Dumbledore? Like Snape, Penny also wanted an answer to this question, and perhaps why Harry had taken such pains not to share the information with her.

Holding her breath, afraid they would notice her, she listened intently.

"Information," repeated Snape. "You trust him . . . you do not trust me."

"It is not a question of trust. I have, as we both know, limited time. It is essential that I give the boy enough information for him to do what he needs to do."

What did Dumbledore mean by that? Did he expect to be going somewhere soon or were things getting far worse than any of them realized? He could not be suggesting Harry would need to face the Dark Lord soon, he still had an entire year of magical education left!

"And why may I not have the same information?"

A question Penny also wondered considering she was certain Harry had been sharing whatever he'd learned from these evenings with Dumbledore with Ron and Hermione.

"I prefer not to put all of my secrets in one basket, particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort."

"Which I do on your orders!"

"And you do it extremely well. Do not think that I underestimate the constant danger in which you place yourself, Severus. To give Voldemort what appears to be valuable information while withholding the essentials is a job I would entrust to nobody but you."

Dumbledore's answer made the contents of Penny's stomach squirm uncomfortably. Of course Dumbledore would know, like Snape, that Penny also shared time with the Dark Lord these days, and naturally, whatever information he was sharing with Harry would be ripe for the taking if Penny knew it, but, how had Dumbledore explained this to Harry? Did he tell him that which Penny had been too ashamed to admit? And if he did, what did her brother think of her being both marked and a liar? He'd given no indications of knowing Penny's secret.

"Yet you confide much more in a boy who is incapable of Occlumency, whose magic is mediocre, and who has a direct connection into the Dark Lord's mind!"

Snape's disparaging of Harry irritated her, Harry was far from being mediocre. What kind of mediocre wizard faced Lord Voldemort multiple times and came away alive?

"Voldemort fears that connection," said Dumbledore, turning from the spot and walking again. Not so long ago he had one small taste of what truly sharing Harry's mind means to him. It was a pain such as he has never experienced. He will not try to possess Harry again, I am sure of this. Not in that way."

"I don't understand," Snape said, barely audible now, prompting Penny to wrench herself free of the bog because she wanted to chase after them.

"Lord Voldemort's soul, maimed as it is, cannot bear close contact with a soul like Harry's. Like a tongue on the frozen steel, like flesh in flame—"

"Souls? We are talking of minds!"

She was free and ready to turn, but a large hand caught her.

"In the case of Harry and Lord Voldemort, to speak of one is to speak of the other," were the last words of Dumbledore she caught before turning to find Hagrid frowning down at her and steering her decidedly away from the pair and toward the castle.

Penny could hardly protest, it was late and there was no argument to be made for eavesdropping on the headmaster. Thankfully Hagrid did not lecture her on the subject and sent her on her way toward the showers with little fuss, both of them evidently lost in thought about what they'd just overheard.

Laying in the scorching tub, Penny's mind reeled. What information could Dumbledore possibly have to give Harry so urgently? Did this have to do with the thing Slughorn let slip, horcruxes? What were they and why was Harry trusted with it? The idea that it had something to do with the prophecy, and Harry being the chosen one was the obvious answer, but also one that made Penny uneasy. Why was it her 16 year old brother that was destined to kill the Dark Lord? Why couldn't he have picked some other infant to kill—

The realization made her snort derisively. Neville had not been the only other infant born as the 7th month died, there had been another in that very room with Harry that night—her. It did not surprise her much though that Voldemort discounted her on account of being a girl, that was just the way of the world. But would the result not have been entirely the same?

The love of their mother that saved Harry, would not it have done the same for her, resulting in she being the one marked. It would have been better that way, she thought. Penny was already cursed, and better for her to suffer both than to make her twin miserable too.

More concerning to Penny though, was the remark Dumbledore made about souls. She understood what it meant for their minds to be connected, her own being connected to Harry's as well, which made her wonder momentarily if that meant, she too was linked to the Dark Lord, but souls? How did one connect their souls, and more importantly, what did that mean for vanquishing the Dark Lord? What happened to the other soul when one dies? Do they even die? Would that mean both souls would have to die to be rid of the monster once and for all? The thought was too awful to entertain for long, so she pulled herself from the bath and returned to the common room to find her twin.

He was working on Snape's essay while discussing apparition, Penny, squishing herself right beside him, throwing her arms around his neck to let out a little sigh into his chest.

"What's up?"

"Nothing. Nothing is up. It's all down."

"For any particular reason?"

"No. it's more like, every reason."

"Right," he said, setting down his essay. "And what would make it better—"

"We run away and never look back. Go live in Germany, or better yet, Sweden!" Penny burst out, looking up and fixing her green gaze on his identical one.

"Just one small problem, we have two years until we graduate," he said, eyebrows raised.

"If you think it's an absurd idea, just say that," Penny sulked.

"I think you're just having a bad day, so how about I take your mind off things?"

"Please do," she sighed, laying herself in his lap as he fiddled her hair.

"I have finally worked out how we figure out what Malfoy's up to."

Penny waited for him to continue, very interested in what he would have to say.

"I have set Kreacher to tail him. And Dobby, since Kreacher isn't to be trusted."

"Kreacher? Kreacher is here?" Penny asked. "Since when?"

"Oh right. Well, when I inherited Snuffles' house I got Kreacher too—"

"He left it to you!"

"Yeah. . .I thought you knew? Surely he left you something as well. Didn't Dumbledore—"

"No, he didn't," Penny said darkly, feeling suddenly angry and hurt. But she could not let that distract her from the point—Kreacher was at Hogwarts.

No longer as attentive as she was a moment ago, Penny listened to Harry awkwardly transition back to his plan with Malfoy, Penny mulling over the prospect of paying Kreacher a visit herself and whether or not Sirius had left her anything, and if he had, what?

Apparition lessons started for all the 6th years who wished to participate, something Penny was going to skip seeing as she could already apparate, until Slughorn let slip that Snape and the other heads of houses would be overseeing the weekend lessons.

The man was still working overtime to avoid her and outright refusing to speak to her despite her efforts to make conversation with him whenever she got the chance. She'd learned from her various efforts that his did not come as easily as he wished her to believe. It became apparent that the space between them was starting to make him crack up, and on occasion resulted in him completely abandoning any pretense.

Sometimes she would catch him watching her in class or a hall, green eyes always finding black. He didn't look away, the greedy glint telling her he did not want to. He merely observed her from a distance, arms crossed, as the hoards of students milled about between them, but it did not matter, because in those moments, everything was quiet and to her, they might as well have been the last two people in the world.

But then he would find his resolve and disappear in the crowd, leaving Penny standing there wishing she could make him understand that those secrets that made him feel like he had to push her away need not be so closely held.

Penny's only solace was to be found in the journal she'd swiped from his house, having finally decided to read it because she was so lonely by this point and hoped its contents would give her some insight into his current behavior.

Once she opened it, however, she found the information inside only added another layer of confusion, mostly one regarding Snape and his relationship to her mother. He wrote of Lily as though he was jealous of James, like a rival for her love might be. But his admissions did not remind Penny of someone in love with another, it was more protective, or possessive than that; lacking the all consuming emotions that generally came with genuine love. But perhaps it was only just burgeoning and in 1975 Snape had not yet realized the extent of his feelings for Lily?

Regardless, the possibility was enough to slow Penny down on her reading, finding she was only able to tolerate small amounts of it without getting irritated. Her only solace was found in the palpable differences in the way Snape treated Penny, when he was hellbent on making them both miserable.

The intensity of emotions imbued in her every interaction with him was so different from the almost robotic way he wrote in his journal, like emotion had no place in him during that time. It was something Penny noticed others often accused the man of—having no feeling, but nothing could be further from the truth in Penny's experience. And she began to wonder if that was how he viewed himself as well, being unable to offer her genuine, selfless feelings?

What a stupid man he was, if he thought that that. Penny was plenty happy with the progress he'd made sharing his emotions. But even more annoying was the idea he thought emotions and love were just things people shared verbally, because she found that woefully ignorant of all the ways he'd demonstrated his love for her over the years. What were the hours of time they'd spent arguing, reading, sitting, staring, and brewing potions together if not a genuine representation of the feelings they shared, even if they couldn't quite put words to them?

Still, it was a perplexing thought to Penny, who had always been on the receiving end of Snape's care. It almost felt absurd to consider he might feel as though he did not deserve her or was afraid he would love wrong. But all things considered, it made his current behavior make a lot more sense, and her a lot more determined to point out his own stupidity to him.

When their first apparition lesson arrived, Penny entered the hall full of excited 6th years, making straight for Snape like an addict looking for a hit, Harry yelling after her, clearly disgruntled by her unabashed declaration of her preference for the snarky Potions Master.

While all the other students lined up according to their houses before their heads of house, Penny stood defiantly at the the front of the Slytherin line in her red robes, not caring that the students around her were pointing and whispering.

Snape did not notice Penny at first, being too preoccupied with his annoyance at Professor McGonagall telling one off one his students. But then the irritated eyes found the face smiling up at him expectantly and he almost let out an impatient sigh.

"You are a Gryffindor, Potter, what are you doing here?"

"I thought that obvious, sir, I'm here to learn to apparate."

"So move over there."

"I did not realize Gryffindors could only learn on the left side of the room," she quipped, making his lip curl.

"I have not the patience for this today, go harass your own head of house."

"And leave you with this boorish lot? What kind of friend do you take me for?"

"The unwanted kind. But your concern is misplaced seeing as you are the dullest of the bunch. Now go find someone else to annoy, we both know you have no need of these lessons."

"True. But seeing as you've been hell bent on avoiding me, I've had to resort to different measures. If you do not like it, you only have yourself to blame."

"Because taking a hint would just be too reasonable for one such as you."

"Except I think your hint is just another manifestation of your love for self-flagellation and has nothing to do with what you actually want."

"Am I to take that to mean only you, Potter, are the only one privy to my own desires?" he said, his lip becoming a fine line.

"Of interpreting them, yes. I mean, just look at you, you're miserable without me," she said, eyes looking over his frame as though that settled matters.

"You are your father over again—" he fumed, that James vein of his throbbing dangerously in his temple.

"Stop deflecting. I know you, Severus Snape, and we both know this entire debacle has nothing to do with you disliking my company, and everything to do with something you're keeping secret. So put us both out of misery and fess-up already."

"No," he said, a tone of finality in his voice, dark eyes flashing. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than entertain your ravings."

"You can't run forever!" she called after him, making a few girls giggle annoyingly as they looked between Penny and her professor like they were some fighting couple. If only, at least then she could make him shut up by kissing him.

But the man stood by his word, having no intent of allowing her to return them to their conversation, now taking up post on the opposite side of the room, dark eyes averted away from her.

Penny felt annoyed and sulky staring at the hoop before her. Why had she come chasing after a man like him, yet again. His response was not worth the headache she put into him. Better yet, why did she care so much that her thoughts were consumed by him? Especially considering he'd always been like this, and despite things being really good on the occasions they were good, more often than not she was left miserable like this. So why did she continue to perpetuate this cycle and do this to herself? It had to be irrational at this point. Or maybe he was the irrational one, continuously pushing her away when she got too close for fear of. . .but what was it he was afraid of?

The predicament reminded Penny of Snape's own scathing words written in his journal and directed at his mother. Based on what he'd written, she assumed that his father was abusive, and while Snape would never do such things to her; Penny found herself wondering how the relationship between his mother and father began. Surely he had not always hit her, just like Snape did not always push her away.

No, he gave her just enough hope to remain complacent when he decided to disregard her feelings, for a time. But in accepting this dynamic, was Penny refusing to make decisions for herself? Refusing to demand what she knew she deserved—a little emotional stability?

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's! Destination, Determination, Deliberation!" Wilkie Twycross was saying as the students prepared their first attempts.

And what about what else he'd written about that determination to never love when love produced such awful circumstances? Was that where Penny was now, so broken from the people who had left her behind that she was willing to endure anything, even this continual torment to avoid it?

"Now focus on your hoop and turn on your heel."

Penny was turning, feeling annoyed and resistant to the thought—it was not that she was desperate and pathetic, it was that she trusted Snape, loved him even, in their weird way; and it was Snape, in face of these feelings that was afraid, he'd written as much. And then she disappeared not realizing she was apparating, appearing again within the confines of her hoop with a pop that sent those around Penny 'oohing' and 'ahhing,' but Penny did not notice because she became immediately aware that something was wrong—terribly wrong.

She'd landed on her feet, but as soon as her weight bore down on them she crumpled. She did not have the wherewithal to catch herself, finding the floor beneath her hard and cold. Her nose collided with it and sent a searing pain up the bridge of it. The wet ooze that gushed across her lips told her it was bleeding, but she cared little for that problem. It was the agonizing pain in her left arm that made her let loose a terrified, unholy scream.

The dizziness came on too soon, Penny not only confused but panicked as she tried to push herself off the ground just enough to get a look at her left arm to figure out what the issue was.

The pain made this impossible and she slumped back onto the floor, grunting, "Fuck," as she took several shallow gasps for air. When the intensity of pain calmed a little, Penny opted for rolling herself over and turned her head to find her uniform short covered in blood, that was now pooling around her.

By now, those around her had noticed and were yelling and Twycross, the twat, could be heard saying, "Splinching, or the separation of random body parts, occurs when the mind is insufficiently determined. You must concentrate continually upon your destination, and move, without haste, but with deliberation…"

Splinched? What had Penny left behind, her arm muscle? She'd never experienced it before and had not imagined it going like this when Lupin warned her to be careful. She imagined losing an eyebrow, not an entire chunk of herself. The pain of it was unlike anything Penny had ever felt before, her arm searing, as though the very air around her stabbed at her delicate nerves.

Professor McGonagall was the first to descend upon Penny, her pace hastening when she caught sight of all the blood.

"Stay with me, Potter," she said, wand out and features pale.

Her request was arguably more difficult than Penny imagined. Bright dots were popping up across her vision and she was feeling unnaturally lethargic.

"Why is it always me," Penny said, finding McGonagall's eyes. They flickered with a momentary apologetic amusement before replying.

"A question I too would like an answer to. But splinching is not unexpected with learners—"

"What did I lose?"

"Nothing we can't fix," she said, beginning to unbutton Penny's shirt so she could access her arm.

Penny remained unconvinced, having seen the worried look in her professor's eyes, but she was swimming on the edge of consciousness, closing her eyes in an attempt to feel less nauseated by the spinning room and finding herself much more sleepy.

"You must remain awake, Potter," she instructed, tapping Penny's cheeks several times to force her eyes open. It sounded awful, especially with the pain, but Penny did as she was instructed and forced her eyes awake.

The onlookers were murmuring, crying and some even holding each other as they watched, evidently fearful.

Professor McGonagall popped the last button and pulled the tie from Penny's neck just as Snape came into view only a few strides from them.

"No, wait, Minerva!"

Professor McGonagall, too preoccupied with what she was doing did not seem to hear, and pulled open one side of Penny's shirt before Snape's hand stopped her. "No!" but not before her eyes found the grotesque mark etched across Penny's chest.

"What in merlin," she gasped, sharp eyes looking to Snape now, who, after covering Penny back up, conjured a knife and cut away at her sleeve revealing the wound.

"Get them out of here." He jerked his head toward their audience, all but pushing the Gryffindor head of house away from Penny as he assessed the damage. "Now!" he added, when Professor McGonagall merely stared in stunned silence at him.

"What is the meaning of this, Severus? Why would he a child—and you—why do you—"

"For merlin's sake, Minerva, now is not the time!" Snape hissed. "If you want to help the girl, give us some privacy so I can work!"

Glancing at Penny and seeming to decide it was not the time to argue, she got to her feet, features hard, and began ushering the students from the hall with the help of Professors Sprout and Flitwick.

"A real amateur move, getting splinched at the apparition lessons I don't even need."

"Hardly, Potter. It requires a true expertise in mayhem to mangle yourself this greatly from merely moving across the room," he said, face stoney as she assessed the wound, imparting to Penny the horrible, morbid curiosity to look.

A large portion of her upper arm was missing, scooped cleanly as though by a knife. She wanted to turn her head and vomit, but Snape reached for the chain around her neck and tugged it free, uncorked the dittany and then poured it over the wound, sending a blessed relief through the wound and easing Penny's pain.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to make me feel better," Penny said, her breathing labored, despite only laying on the floor.

"No. I am merely pointing out the fact that never in my life have I met someone so insistent upon offing themselves prematurely."

"Maybe if you stopped ignoring me all the time, I wouldn't have to resort to these measures to get your attention," Penny said, eyelids heavy as she turned her gaze on him. Dark eyes flicked to meet hers, worry evident in every line of his face.

"You always have my attention, Potter." He was bending over her now, peering into each eye in turn, the back of his hand pressing against her cheek.

"Not enough of it."

"And if what you are asking of me only brings you misery in the end?"

"If misery is inevitable, why prolong it? At least let me be happy while I can."

"You only say that because you know nothing of misery—"

"You can't possibly expect to convince me of that after I just got a chunk of my arm splinched away."

She did not have the energy to be incredulous, but hoped the look she gave him told him all he needed to know about what she thought about that. She was satisfied that the corners of his mouth twitched and his head inclined slightly.

"I cannot convince you of anything, apparently."
"I don't think you wanted to convince me of anything, not really. Because if you had honestly wanted me to go, you would have taken a page out of Lupin's book."

"There is nothing I want less in the world than to induce my own misery by making you go. Is it so detestable to you that I wish for your happiness?" Snape said, unable to keep the annoyance from his tone.

"Yes, but only because you refuse to listen to me when I tell you, you are my happiness."

He finally turned from her wound, eyes colored with incomprehension, as though he wondered if Penny were teasing him in another language. But then she reached for his hand, the world around her spinning and she squeezed it, and he seemed to decide something.

"You say that now—"

"And I will say it again tomorrow and the next day for as long as you need. But if what you are really worried about is that what is being asked of you requires you to stomp all over that goodwill, then I would remind you, you need only ask for my forgiveness if you require it."

"Why would you give it to me so freely when you refused it to the half-breed?"

"It's not free. You'll only receive it if you swear to always take me with you."

"You do not know what it is you ask."

"And I don't care, either. The details are irrelevant when I already know I can handle anything, except being left behind. So, swear it."

"Were you anyone else I would remind you only a fool would trust a person such as I and expect nothing less than disappointment."

"Are you advising me to stay away from you, because I do not have the energy to remind you we've already been through this," Penny replied, letting out a heavy sigh.

Though the pain was greatly improved, the weakness in her muscles made it extremely difficult to continue focusing on the conversation. But they were finally making, what she hoped was progress, and so she willed her body into staying on task.

"No, Potter. Surely you have realized by now that I am covetous by nature, and could not, had I a shred of decency, give up the only good thing in my life. I swear it," Snape said, eyes bright with a startling conviction Penny had not expected, but found a great relief in.

"Good. I wasn't all that keen on going to hell alone," she said quietly., finally letting her tired eyes close.

"Severus—" intruded Professor McGonagall, returning now the hall was empty.

"The arm will heal," Snape said, answering her unasked question. "But there may be a scar."

"It is not the splinch that concerns me, Severus, but how this child, one no less, whose parents were murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came to bare his mark. I was under the impression he only bestowed it upon his followers, so do help me understand."

The tension was thick in the air, Penny even aware of it though she did not watch the expressions the pair exchanged.

"He made an exception." Was all the answer Snape offered, his voice brisk, unapologetic.

"For a Potter?" McGonagall pressed, sounding unconvinced.

"The story is exhaustive, Minerva, but I assure you Dumbledore is quite familiar with the details of it. Now, if you'll excuse me, Potter needs the Hospital Wing." There was a rustling of movement beside Penny, that pulled her from the ebbing darkness of unconsciousness.

"I will take Miss Potter from here."

"You think me untrustworthy?" Snape said in a low voice.

"No. I think you have done enough, and as Head of her house, I will be tending more closely to her care, all things considered," she said teresely.

Silence spanned for a long moment, Penny still too aloof to be able to gauge the situation. But Snape then the familiar waves of energy that always emanated from Snape moved away and Penny felt the ground disappear beneath her.

She forced her eyes open, and found her head of house guiding her to the Hospital Wing.

"It wasn't his fault, Professor," said, barely able to find the energy to make her words audible.

"Shh, now Miss Potter, you need not waste your energy defending him."

"But you don't understand—because in doing what he did, he saved me from Yaxley. I swear it, professor, and as unsightly as it is, I'd take it again if it kept that slimy bastard from ever touching me again."

Professor McGonagall considered her, face creased in distaste, but then it softened slightly.

"It should have never come to that."

"Maybe, but I trust him regardless."

Professor McGonagall did not respond to that, and instead insisted again that Penny save her strength before leaving her with Madam Pomfrey, who first worked on dulling the rest of Penny's pain before going on a tirade about 'maiming children.' Eventually Penny was allowed to give into her exhaustion and sleep, Madam Pomfrey banning all visitors until Penny's vitals were better.

The lack of distraction in the form of her brother, when Penny finally awoke, left Penny too much spare time for her thoughts to torment her. Would Professor McGonagall tell the others? Mrs. Weasley? Lupin? Had anyone else seen her mark before Snape covered her? What would the school say if they had?

In reality, Penny knew she could not hide it forever, and the longer she did the harder it would be to explain. But still, there was so much involved in it, so many things that laid bare experiences and feelings she did not particularly want to expose to the world. The things done to her, they were not so easily spoken, and something she preferred not to think about. Penny did not want her friends, or her brother, to define her by the things others had done to her. It made her feel even more infuriatingly helpless than she ever felt locked in the Department of Mysteries.

In the quiet and guilt, Penny decided she needed to confess to her brother, at least, no matter what the repercussions were. She would show him the whole of it—Yaxley and all, and if he decided to double down on Snape, then so be it, but she could not lie to him any longer.

Unfortunately, she had all the early hours of the morning to pass until she would see him which left her stirring restlessly until she remembered there was someone else she'd also been hoping to speak to.

"Kreacher?" Penny called into the darkness, uncertain how one summons a house elf, and skeptical he would answer her call.

A crack and Kreacher appeared. "Mistress," he bowed before muttering under his breath, "The freak wants something from Kreacher, but if he lingers too long, surely some of that strangeness will rub off on him."

His appearance answered the question of whether he would listen to her, but he evidently did not intend to make it easy.
"I assure you, I do not wish to keep you long, Kreacher," Penny said, slightly bitter at his remark. "I am curious about another master of yours and hoped you could give me some details."

"She speaks of masters as though she were fit to be named among them," Kreacher said to the floor.

Realizing this would get tedious if she didn't smarten up, Penny snapped, "I command you, Kreacher, to tell me about Regulus Black."

"She speaks Master Regulus's name with her filthy mouth."

"Now, Kreacher."

"Well, there is much to say of Master Regulus, he was a good boy, unlike his brother, Sirius, who always made my Mistress cry. Kind, yes. Brave, yes. And the most brilliant of them. That is why the Dark Lord took him at 16," Kreacher said, in what he evidently thought was a train of information that would thwart Penny's plans, but happened to be precisely the kind of tidbits of insight on the boy that she was looking for. So Penny kept quiet, allowing Kreacher to continue his monologue.

"Oh yes, Master Regulus, he cared for Kreacher, saved him from the Dark Lord. Kreacher would have died for Master Regulus that day if Master hadn't ordered him to leave him in that cave."

"You were there when he died?"

Kreacher looked at Penny, as though just realizing she was there, and then fat tears now welled in his eyes and he croaked "Yes, Mistress."

"How did he die, Kreacher? You must tell me exactly how he died and why."

"When the Dark Lord required an elf, Master offered Kreacher, and Kreacher was proud to serve him. But Master Regulus became very worried, very worried after Kreacher returned from the task the Dark Lord had set him. The Dark Lord left Kreacher, there you see, in that cave he hid the locket. And if Master had not ordered Kreacher to return, Kreacher would have been pulled into the depths," Kreacher started, curling into a ball. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house, but when he returned, Master was strange, something was bothering him, Kreacher could tell. He came to Kreacher and asked Kreacher to take him to the cave where the Dark Lord had hidden the locket. It was there, beneath the poison that made Kreacher see all those awful things. But this time," Kreacher went on the small elf, shaking more violently as he furthered the story. "Master Regulus drank the poison, commanding Kreacher to replace the locket with the fake he'd brought. He ordered Kreacher to leave him—leave master—to go home—and never tell my Mistress what he had done—but to destroy—the Dark Lord's locket. And Kreacher did as Master bade—stayed until Master Regulus was dragged beneath the water. . .and. . ." By that point Kreacher was shaking so violently he could no longer speak. He looked as though he were standing in that cave, watching the boy die all over again, a thought that made Penny feel sick so she did not press Kreacher.

"Regulus was very brave, and must have cared a lot for you," Penny said quietly, wanting to console the elf, if even slightly.

Large, bleary eyes looked at Penny as though only seeing her for the first time, blinking tears. "Mistress is very kind to honor Master Regulus," he said, his voice lacking the derision it normally contained when he spoke to Penny.

"Thank you for sharing it with me, Kreacher, I promise to guard Regulus' memory."

Kreacher returned to his feet in order to give a deep bow, and then shifted for a moment on both feet, as though unsure of himself. "If Mistress requires any other knowledge of Master Regulus, Mistress should not hesitate to call Kreacher."

"I've no doubt I will have many more questions about our valiant Regulus, and you will be the only authority I look to, Kreacher."

And looking, almost on the verge of happy tears, Kreacher bowed again and left Penny to her thoughts.

So Regulus had changed sides and this confirmed it. The only question was, why had he decided to steal a locket from the Dark Lord? What did that locket do and why was it important to the Dark Lord? What had motivated Regulus to steal it? Was it for Kreacher, or had he learned something he was not supposed to know? More importantly, was that the cause for him being allowed to remain on the plane of unfinished business? If only she had asked him—asked him so many things before she'd allowed him to send her away. If only there were a way to return and hear the truth from his own mouth.

Staring at the ceiling, Penny wondered if Regulus told Sirius these truths when they met on that plane. Had Sirius forgiven him? Were his last actions with his life enough to redeem him in his brother's eyes? Penny had to believe so, otherwise she too was unredeemable.

When Harry was finally allowed to see Penny, Penny suspecting Dumbledore had something to do with Madam Pomfrey lifting the visitor ban, she felt him before she dared look at him. She kept her eyes squeezed shut as he sat beside her bed. It was not until his hand grasped hers that she turned to him, the pair exchanging a look that shared a million thoughts because their minds opened engulfing the other as soon as green met green; both having had the same idea.

Penny admitted she'd been hiding something from Harry, that she was ashamed of it, and did not wish him to think differently of her. Harry was naturally concerned, but assured her she need not be afraid.

So Penny showed Harry the truth of it—of the mark she'd been forced to receive and the circumstances under which it'd come to be etched on her chest. Harry moved through many emotions, fury, indignation, disbelief, disgust, and sadness. Each new glimpse of the pain, shame and humiliation Penny had endured altering his thoughts on it.

Penny knew Harry was not happy, even furious about Snape's proposal, distrusting of his intentions, but in the wake of viewing Yaxley's disgusting attentions toward Penny, and the possibility of what might have happened if Snape hadn't acted, he pushed aside those feelings and held Penny as she cried out all the feelings she'd kept bottled up, a keen sense of sadness emanating from him.

It was a sadness she knew all too well, the same one inside of her that wished she could spare him his own pain. They'd both been through so much, too much especially for anyone their age. It wasn't fair, but at least in the injustice of it all, they had each other—a bond no one and nothing could break.

"You could have told me," Harry said after a bit.

"I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Disappointing you. . .and Sirius."

"You're an idiot, I hope you know that."

"Thanks," Penny hiccuped, wiping her cheeks.

"Well it's the truth. One day you have to realize you don't have to do anything to earn my love—or Sirius'."

"What do you—"

"We love you, Penny. All of us. It's not about what you do for us, or how pleasant you are—we love you and all that you are, from now until forever. You're stuck with me."

Harry's words, they were so simple and lacked any eloquence, and yet, they spoke directly to her bruised heart, getting at the truth of something she had never seen in herself before now. All this time she'd been afraid of losing his love—that it was something she had to continuously earn.

But that was not what family was. And that fact was precisely why things felt so different at the Weasleys, because they understood this simple truth: the love they shared was unconditional, and there was a freedom in that.

Rolling over to kiss his hand and wipe her teary face on her pillow, Penny said "I love you too, Harry."

Life had been unnecessarily cruel to Penny, and sometimes she felt too exhausted to keep trying; did not see the point because she'd allowed all the awful things block her view from the fact fate had also bestowed upon her something so precious, pure, and powerful that not even her deepest despair could keep it from offering her comfort.

Life had given her Harry. Twin, brother, chosen one, and the other half of herself. He was everything she needed, and the only one capable of making anything right in the world.

So she clung to him and let that unconditional love he spoke of wash over her and remind her why she should keep struggling.

Does it make me terrible that the very next thing Dumbledore says in that conversation with Snape that Penny does not hear is "After you have killed me, Severus -"

SHE COULD HAVE KNOWN. Any thoughts about how she will respond to him coming out looking like a lair after all? CAN THEY GET PAST THIS? Guess we will have to wait and see 😂 LOVE YOU