A/N: I hope I have not lost my readers by having such a long space between chapters. I hope you will like this chapter. It was a hard one because it lays a lot of groundwork for the rest of the story and I really wanted to capture the mix of emotions. I wanted to let you all know that this story is now starting on The Sugar Quill and is being beta read by Zsenya, herself. I am making slight adjustments to it as I place it there, always trying to improve. You guys, get the raw stuff! I need to give a huge thanks to the wonderful St. Margaret's for all her help and support. Keep all the feedback coming!!!

Chapter Nine – Vita Natura

It should have made things better. For the first time in months there were no secrets between them. But somehow the intensity of the joy, just deepened the cut of the pain. Penelope had cried that first Monday morning. Only five days, he assured her. It was nothing. They had spent far more time apart than that. But something had changed and he knew it too.

Percy sifted through his in-tray crumpling the out of date memos. Why could he never be satisfied? He really was a lucky bloke, damn luckier than poor Cedric Diggory. And yet it wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted her all - the - bloody - time and he wanted Cornelius Fudge to fly away on a Hippogriff and never come back. He took a moment's pleasure imagining that press conference -

- Next question please…

- Mr. Weasley, Have you sent a search party after the Minister?

- We have, of course, put all our resources into the search. However we must also place our concern with the daily operations of the government. Let me assure you the Ministry of Magic is in capable hands…

The delicious thought made him smile as he disintegrated the contents of his wastepaper basket with a smoky poof.

He flipped through Fudge's schedule for the day. First up was The Committee on Magical Education Standards and Services. (M.E.S.S.) That meant both Malfoy and Umbridge in the same room. He would have to watch himself.

There was a soft ding from the lift and he looked up to see three distinguished wizards pass his door on their way toward the conference room. He knocked on Fudge's office and when he entered found the minister lounging behind his desk looking cheery. Lucius Malfoy sat across from him.

"Minister, the M.E.S.S. members are beginning to arrive."

"Thank you, Weasley. Have we seen Delores yet?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Well, it's still early. You go on in, we'll be there directly."

"Yes sir."

Percy gathered quills from his desk and started down the hall. Fudge was in a jolly mood and that meant trouble. He slipped into the conference room and chose a chair slightly removed from the head. The Minister's Conference Room contained a single long table that magically expanded to always have the perfect number of chairs for any meeting. Portraits of past minister's dozed in their frames along the walls and Percy noticed Everard raise a single eyelid as he took his seat. He knew the portraits would all be wide-awake by the time Fudge had the meeting underway.

Delores Umbridge swept in, a pile of papers in her arms. She took no notice of him whatsoever. Fudge and Malfoy entered shortly thereafter. Fudge gave him a fatherly pat on the shoulder as he passed. Malfoy eyed him briefly, gripping his cane more tightly.

The meeting began and his ink spread across the parchment in neat clear lines. Umbridge gave a report from Hogwarts in which she complained heartily about the incompetence of the staff and the lack of discipline among the students. He logged her words carefully, trying to seal them in his own mind as he wrote. Behind him he heard Everard cough.

He had written three rolls of parchment before the group came to the final item on the agenda. Malfoy rose to his feet and cleared his throat to address the committee. "It has come to my attention that many of our muggleborn students enter Hogwarts woefully unprepared for life in the magical world. Recently, I acquired a piece of property perfectly designed to become a school. I would like to donate this property to the Ministry with the expressed desire of seeing it converted into an educational institution for young muggleborn witches and wizards."

Percy looked up at Malfoy with a moment's confusion. What was this about? Malfoy was looking stiff, like some porceline figurine. Questions began to shoot through his mind and he had to consciously bite them back.

"I would ask to remain anonymous in this gift."

That's a laugh. You're telling everybody here.

" - and would wish to name the institution in honor of our esteemed Minister, a testament to his leadership in this area."

Don't make me retch, you slick son of a bitch."

"I would ask only to remain behind the scenes in the administration - perhaps helping to select key staff and trustees."

You mean you want to control the whole thing.

"How generous Lucius," he heard a voice saying. "I was completely unaware that muggleborn students arrived at such a disadvantage at Hogwarts."
They don't, you idiot.

"But Lucius," came another voice from the floor, Why only muggle born students? Why not institutionalize early education for all young wizards?"

There's a good question.

"Because the wizarding community has a history of passing along knowledge to their children. The tradition of family involvement in education must be fostered. It is, of course, in the heart of the wizarding home where knowledge is shared. This has been our tradition for centuries and it has, of course, worked remarkably well. Case in point, Mr. Weasley…"

He's talking to me.

"Sir?"

"Were you not Head Boy at Hogwarts?"

"Yes sir."

"And your early education?"

"At home, of course, sir."

"Let Mr. Weasley stand as a testament to the supreme success our pureblood families have in passing on the wizarding principals of education."

Go to hell Malfoy.

From a spot close to him, Amelia Bones spoke, "Has Dumbledore approved this school?"

Fudge reddened but Malfoy replied politely, "We have not sought Dumbldore's approval. This school would be independent of Hogwarts."

"But certainly we must work in conjunction with Hogwarts. They keep the records on magical children."

Percy felt the hairs on his arm stand up as Malfoy smiled, "That is something to keep in mind. Access to those records would be important."

You already have those records, you lying bastard. You stole them.

***

The Executive Bathroom at the Ministry was a thing of wonder. Percy slid off his white robe and sank into the pool the size of a quidditch field. At the far end a fire flickered from the huge stone fireplace and several important wizards lounged in a whirlpool by the flames. Overhead, a domed ceiling was graced with a fresco of the four seasons. The magic from each season hung so low that if he stood on tiptoe he could extend an arm into winter and pull out a snowball. He came here every day at lunch. Fifty laps back and forth, the gentle steady splashing accompanied by the pull of his shoulder muscles and the burning in his lungs. He was not a massively coordinated guy, but endurance he had. Pain. Breath through the pain. Think through the pain. Live through the pain.

The bathroom was the best place to hear gossip and as the older wizards became accustomed to his lunchtime ritual, they hardly noticed him. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he sensed that his hearing had become keener since he had become an animagus. He could stop and catch his breath for a moment and hear them talk from the hot tub. The overly personal and the political all mingled when men were half-naked.

Today his mind traced over and over the events of this morning's meeting. It was a frightening ploy. Lure magical children from their families with promises of magical education. What would Malfoy do with a school full of muggleborn children? Percy held his breath and dipped under the water, gliding just beneath the surface. The image of the little female house elf floated in his mind. Damn Malfoy. She was just a child, really, even if she was an elf. There was no reason to abuse her. In his mind the image of the little house elf shifted to an image in his memory. The ink stained tea towel turned into a blood stained white blouse and Ginny lay before him, sleeping on a cot in the hospital wing as his mother stroked her hair. "It was Lucious Malfoy, Percy," he heard his father say. "He was after me. After the Muggle Protection Act. We'd never have known, except that apparently the man has a rebellious house-elf who tipped Harry off. A little creature named Dobby."

Percy's head broke the water and air rushed into his lungs. His mind was suddenly clear. He knew the path, knew exactly who he needed to get back the Quill. Dobby. The elf was at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore had said so in the hearing. He dove under and kicked for the side. If he could just talk to the creature…

His hand hit the side, but before he could push off, he felt a sharp scratch. He looked up to see Hermes sitting on the edge of the pool, staring at him coolly. "What are you doing here?" Percy hissed.

The owl jumped back, eyeing his dripping form disdainfully. With a shake of his feathers, Hermes twisted his head toward the door. Something was wrong. Hermes would not come into the Executive Bath without a good reason. Percy didn't dare look at the hot tub. With an air of irritation, he lifted himself from the pool, grabbed his robe and towel, and followed the owl into the showers.

Hermes landed on top of a stall, cocked his head, then disappeared behind the door. Percy quickly slipped inside. Hermes was sitting on the bench inside the shower and next to him sat a haughty Great Grey owl with a bright red collar around her neck.

"A muggle emergency owl?" Percy whispered. He had never received a message from one, but he knew they were specially trained for muggles who needed to contact the magical world. Why would a muggle need him? Hermes had clearly intercepted her, aware that her delivery would have caused questions. Percy carefully retrieved the note bound to her leg and she took off, perching first on top of the door before swooping silently out of an open window above a steaming shower.

"What do you think?" Percy whispered to his owl as he unfolded the paper. The note wasn't parchment but a crisp white piece of stationary and his eyes skimmed quickly down the page. He read the note a second and then third time before finally folding it carefully. "Hermes," he said softly, "I'm going to need your help."

***

The crowd at the Owl's Nest was beginning to thin. It was almost 2:00 and most people had returned to work, though a few Ministry wizards lingered in deep conversations. Zelda Clinkert motioned to Penelope from the door of the kitchen and Penelope stopped her task of polishing pint glasses.

"Take a break with me," Zelda winked.

"Sure," Penelope smiled, following her friend through the kitchen and out into the frigid alley.

"It's a little cold," Penelope frowned. "We need a fire."

Butterbeer crates were stacked near the rubbish bins and she pulled one toward them then levitated a cracked cauldron on top of it. With a simple flick of her wrist, she started a nice blue fire inside the cauldron.

"You're a really powerful witch, Penelope," Zelda said with admiration.

Penelope laughed, "Thanks, but that's not much of a trick. At Hogwarts we learned…" her voice died off. She was an insensitive snob.

"I'm going to go back and take my O.W.L.S.," Zelda said eagerly. "I've been studying a little. You know, when I can." Zelda lit a delicate white pipe, inhaled deeply, then blew out a smoke that smelled slightly of candied apples. "I mean, Oscar's a nice guy and I guess you make decent money working here, but I don't want to be a waitress for the rest of my life. I need to do this for Zoe."

"Zoe?" Penelope asked.

"My daughter," Zelda smiled softly and reached in the pocket of her robe. She pulled out her wallet to reveal a picture of a rosy-cheeked little girl about 2 or 3 years old, who laughed and threw chubby hands over her eyes.

"Zelda, she's adorable."

"Yeah, she is. She's really smart too. She's already showing magic signs, especially when it comes to food. She seems to eat non-stop."

Penelope laughed, "I think that's normal at her age. She's growing."

Zelda smiled, "Do you want to have kids one day?"

"Definitely, lots of them. My family died when I was little so I've always been kind of alone.

Zelda looked embarrassed, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's OK." Penelope paused then reached into her own pocket. "I have a picture too. It's my Godson, Daniel Phillip MacDouglas." Penelope handed over the picture. "And that's Iris and Phillip. They helped my grandmother raise me."

Zelda gave the small photo a shake. "They don't move. Are they muggles?"

"Yes. But Daniel's a wizard!"

"Really? Well, they look very nice."

"They are," Penelope said fondly. "I'd do anything for them."

A cold wind whipped down the alley making the water that puddled on the bricks shiver. There was a rustle behind them and paper flipped from the rubbish in graceful somersaults. A screech owl swooped low into the alley perching on the gas lantern by the kitchen door. Penelope looked toward the end of the alley knowing who she would see. The shadow and light blocked the features but she knew the movement as well as the face, every foot placed as if it owned the ground beneath it. Her heart sank, something was incredibly wrong.

"Zelda, this is my friend Percy." Penelope made the introduction without taking her eyes from him.

Percy nodded at Zelda and his lips were tight as he smiled. "It's nice to meet you." When he looked back to Penelope and his features softened. "We need to talk."

Zelda looked between the two and then inched back toward the kitchen door. "You know what?" Zelda interjected. "I'll close you up. I've got to work a double shift today anyway."

Penelope opened her mouth to protest but Percy interrupted, "Thank you Zelda. That would be immensely appreciated."

"Don't mention it. I'll see you later then, Penelope." She gave one last curious look at the owl as she slid into the kitchen.

Penelope's body was numb. "You should not be here," she murmured. "Why…"

Percy zoomed two empty crates beside the little fire and indicated they should sit. He took her hand and starred at it for a moment before he began speaking in a low and gentle voice.

"Pen, Iris sent me an owl."

"Iris?? But…"

"I'm afraid there's some bad news. It's about your grandmother."

The afternoon sun did little to warm the brick and stone around her. She thought how different this was from before. It had been so dark with leaves and branches around her and a mountain of fire. Now a small blue flame flickered beside her. She was vaguely aware of a thumb making a soft circle across the top of her hand. And the rhythm of the voice, never mind the words.

"Penelope, look at me angel. Do you understand what I've just said?"

She lowered her head across his lap and let his hands stroke her back until at last her body expelled the ugly cry inside it.

***

Percy slipped into the church and found a place on a back pew. He'd never been in a muggle church, much less to a muggle funeral. Penelope had assured him if he could find the right page in the Psalm book, he'd be fine. He wondered where she was. She'd been in a bit of organizational overdrive. He arrived home last night to find she'd been in his closet, laid out all his clothes, and left a note to tell him to polish his shoes.

Looking around, he recognized a few faces from the Christmas party, especially the men. The women were so different, all dressed in black with muggle hats perched on their heads. He reached for the Psalm Book and thumbed through. It was difficult not to overhear the conversations around him.

"So what happens now?" A woman with a large black bow on her hat was saying.

"Everything reverts to the girl."

"Oh dear God."

"It was coming anyway. We all knew it."

"What are you going to do?"

"We're working on it. Make it worth her while to relinquish the stock. Then let her go about her weird little life. Disappear to some tropical island for all I care."

Percy immediately felt a surge of anger but as he worked to control it, his mind wandered to the idea of Penelope in a muggle bathing suit on a warm and sunny beach…hmm…maybe the muggle had a point.

The church was small and very plain. Penelope had insisted that the service be at their country church and not in Glasgow. Percy spotted Iris and Phillip on the second pew as the congregation rose. He stood too as men in dark suits escorted the casket down the aisle. Penelope walked behind it looking terribly thin, her hair pulled up under a wide brim hat with a small veil. She stared straight ahead and offered no hint that she had seen him.

The congregation sat again and the vicar rose to the pulpit. He spoke of Penelope's family as if he'd known them for years and told some humorous tales which made everyone laugh. Percy tried but could not see her, only the back of that stupid hat which lowered and raised periodically. Norman Brown was sitting a few rows behind her, openly weeping. Pull yourself together man.

It was hard to think how close his family had come to this. His mind ran through every 'what if'. What if it had been Father? What if something happened to Ron or Bill or Ginny or – oh God – what if something separated Fred and George? How could he live without Penelope? Who would take care of her if something happened to him?

Bagpipes began to play and the vicar was leading a procession back down the aisle. This time Penelope caught his eye and she paused and smiled. It wasn't a happy smile but an honest one. Why the bloody hell had he not brought a handkerchief?

The crowd moved down a small path to the cemetery. A low stone wall surrounded the graves and the Clearwater name was apparent on most of the headstones. There were a few chairs and several ladies sat while the men hung back. It was very brief. The vicar read from the Bible, everyone bowed their heads and then it was over. People were leaving, hugging Penelope, then making their way toward the Mercedes strewn parking lot. He lingered until, finally, even the vicar had gone.

Penelope sat alone, starring at the casket. Percy took a chair at the end of a row and waited quietly until, at last, he felt a few drops of rain splash at the back of his neck. Looking up, wetness streaked across his glasses and he moved next to her, opening a large black umbrella that had suddenly appeared in his hand. "You're going to get that hat all wet and messy," he said.

She paused for a moment as the rain pattered on the umbrella then reached up to unpin the hat. Slipping out into the storm, she laid it on the ground then crushed it squarely into the mud with the spike of her heel before returning to sit next to him.

He wrapped his arm around her wet shoulders and together, they watched the hat sink into the muddy earth.

***

Penelope woke to find it was dark outside. She had insisted she wasn't tired, perhaps she'd been wrong. The rain had stopped and she opened her window to breath in the cold fresh air. With a sudden determination, she turned and opened her closet, magically unlocking the compartment at the back. There behind the muggle clothes were her things. She pulled out a black dress robe, a long velvet cloak, and her old broom, a handsome Cleansweep 8X.

She changed and loosened her hair. If she was going to do this, she might as well do it right. With a wave of her wand, she made the glass in her window disappear. Her broom hovered quietly and she sat side-saddle, crossing her ankles before sailing into the black.

She stopped first in the gardens, plucking a twig from the dormant rose bushes and then she rose again, sailing out toward Loch Lomand. Below she could make out the dim outline of trees and the sparkle of an occasional boat. The wind pulled at her hair and dress and she reveled in the feeling of her own power. Her body was alive and young and full of magic. Remembering this seemed to awaken her and briefly lifted the heavy shroud in her heart.

She turned back towards the church, sailing over pastures of quiet cows and doing a graceful loop around a weathervane. As she saw the tiny steeple she lowered her approach and her broom descended gracefully, just outside the cemetery.

The earth smelled fresh. She laid down her broom then passed along the row of her family, stopping in front of the newest mound of dirt. She sank to her knees, placed the twig in the earth, and pointed her wand at the ground. "Vita Natura," she whispered and streams of blue and yellow light shot from its tip. Where the beams landed the cold wet ground seemed to grow warmer and green life began to emerge, a vine bending and twisting upward until it broke into large pale pink blooms.

For the first time in days her eyes filled with tears and she choked back a hot sob, "I love you, Grandmother. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for letting me be who I am. I won't forget."

A gate clicked behind her and Penelope jerked toward the sound. Norman Brown stood at the edge of the cemetery, the moon making his blond hair look almost silver.

"Are you in the habit of spying on people in their grief, Mr. Brown?" She rose awkwardly to her feet, pulling her cloak tightly around her.

He clutched at his chest and laughed nervously, "No, Miss Clearwater. I am so sorry, but you gave me such a fright. I didn't see you there or I would never have intruded. I came back because I left my sunglasses here this afternoon and thought I'd have a look for them."

"That couldn't wait until morning?"

"Well they are prescription, you see, and I have appointments all day…may I ask what you are doing here in the dark?"

"Planting a rose bush," she answered primly.

"And that couldn't wait until morning?" he asked with the hint of a smile.

"I'll help you look for your glasses, Mr. Brown."

They both scoured the ground and she took the opportunity to quickly shrink her broom and tuck it in the pocket of her cloak. Brown lit an old cigarette lighter and was using it to scan the area.

"Miss Clearwater, Penelope, do you mind if I call you Penelope?"

"No, that's fine."

"You do know that the Board of Trustees is preparing to make you a very generous offer for your shares of stock."

"I assumed that was coming, though no one has approached me yet. Are you the architect of such a deal Mr. Brown?"

He stopped and looked at her. His face glittered eerily in the light of the tiny flame. "You must not take their offer. They will make it tempting. But Penelope, your grandmother wanted you to run the company." He hesitated, "with my help, of course…"

Penelope snorted and shook her head, "You are really unbelievable, Mr. Brown. If you think you can influence me the way you did my grandmother, you are seriously mistaken."

He started toward her, "Please listen to me. Penelope, there's a lot you don't understand. Your grandmother was trying to teach you but she ran out of time."

"Oh Norman, there's a lot, you don't understand."

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead he flicked off the flame, "I don't think what we're looking for is here. Would you allow me to drive you home? It's too dark and cold to be walking alone."

They made their way up the hill and he opened the door for her as she sank uncomfortably low into the tiny sports car. As they sped along the curvy road he spoke calmly, "Listen, just don't do anything rash. Tell them you need some time, a few months to think about it. They may tell you the investors will walk, but that's a lie. Remember, you have the upper hand."

She was silent. What he said made sense. It would be foolish to make a huge decision right now.

He pulled up in front of the Manor and came around to help her from the car. The lights came on as he opened the door and she looked up, "Mr. Brown, up here on your visor, are these your sunglasses?"

He seemed startled but then began to laugh and shook his head. "You've discovered my biggest secret, Miss Clearwater. I'm a bit forgetful. Oh, by the way, I like the dress. I'm sure that will make a big hit in the clubs."

Penelope blushed and stiffened, "I'm not going clubbing after my grandmother's funeral, Mr. Brown."

"Oh really? My mistake, then," he nodded, then sped away down the long drive, his taillights blinking before they disappeared.

Instead of heading up the massive steps, she followed the path through the gardens until she saw the happy windows of the cottage. She slipped quietly through the door into the warm glow and the sight before her was so immediately funny that she had to cover her mouth not to spoil it.

Percy was sitting in Phillip's large recliner and Phillip was leaning enthusiastically over his shoulder, "You have to push this button."

"Which button?"

"This one. No, no. You have to point it at the telly as you push it. Aim. There you go."

"Why it's like a wand really isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know."

"A muggle wand. Does it work on other things?" Percy swung the remote control around pointing it at a stack of books.

"No, just the television. But if you press the different buttons and you can make different things happen."

"Is it eclectic?"

"What? Oh no..um…it runs on batteries. See?"

"Fascinating! My father would…" Percy looked up and saw her for the first time. "Look Pen, it's a muggle wand and it runs on batteries!"

Penelope perched on the arm of the recliner and Phillip eyed her suspiciously. "Where have you been and what's with the Stevie Nicks impersonation?"

She shrugged, "These are my clothes and I like them."

Percy looked askance at Phillip before his eyes traveled admiringly up to Penelope's wind-tossed hair. "Well, I don't know who this Stevie fellow is but I feel sorry for him if he looks like this."

Penelope giggled and kissed the top of his head.

Iris appeared at the bedroom door, "Phillip, Daniel's asleep. Let's go to bed."

"But there's a repeat of an old Black Adder show and I thought…"

"Phillip -"

"OK. OK - Night kids. I'll -uh- leave the door cracked in case you need anything."

Phillip switched off the lights leaving only a tiny circle from the nearby table lamp to illumine them. Penelope slipped down into Percy's lap and he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

"I don't think he trusts me out here with you," he whispered.

"He's pretty smart."

They kissed and she snuggled down into that perfect place against his neck. "Are you OK?" he asked tenderly.

"Yes…no…I'm not sure.

"You're not alone, Penny. You know that?"

She didn't say anything, but closed her eyes and breathed in deep. It was a lovely lie.