"Charming, isn't it?" her intruder said, pleasantly, looking around the room.

"It could do with some more color, if you ask me," replied Penny.

"An interesting observation."

"What does that mean?" Penny said, not bothering to hide her distrust.

"Your expression invited me here, not vice-versa."

He watched her curiously, his expression serene. It unsettled Penny, who sat stiffly in her armchair. If this was truly her mind, why did it not feel more familiar? And how on earth had she invited this nuisance? The idea that her magic was doing anything without her knowing worried her.

"Who or what are you?" Penny said, slowly.

"I'm Tom."

"Tom…?"

"Just Tom," he confirmed, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his thighs.

His handsome eyes glinted in the light, and he smiled pleasantly at Penny. His appearance was quite unexpected for someone who caused so much pain getting into her head. He had a full head of lush brown hair that matched his dark brows and handsome brown eyes. Everything about him was charming. He was unnaturally pretty, like Diggory, except his eyes glinted with a perceptiveness Penny had not seen before.

"Okay, just Tom, where are we and what are you? I've never seen you before," Penny said, absent-mindedly sliding forward in her seat.

"Only you can tell us where we are, this is, after-all, your party. As I said, I am here because your expression called me here."

"Well, let me formally show you out, because my expression was mistaken" Penny replied, pointing to the door.

Tom chuckled softly, but the amusement did not reach his eyes. Something behind them unsettled Penny. His presence intermingled with the feeling of her own, as though he were embedded in her. The intrusion felt suffocating, like a snake was slowly squeezing the life out of her.

"Tell me, were you aware of what you were doing back there, with Professor Snape, any idea what you did to him?"

Penny's heart nearly burst with fear, she had been uncertain what she had done, and was worried she had hurt the man. She wanted to blame Tom, but she knew all of it had burst forth from her uncontrollable anger at the truth she knew Snape was hiding from her.

"He will recover," he added, piercing her with a knowing stare.

"Let me go back and help him," Penny begged.

"I told you, I can't do that. You have been repressing your expression for some time. Much like an obscurial, it has become destructively attached to your emotions. Meaning, when you lose control, it does as well. As of now, your body is engulfed in the chaotic energy. I removed your consciousness from its connection to your nervous system to protect your mind from the. . .effects," said Tom, standing

He moved across the room to the bar and began pouring the two of them a drink. He offered the first to Penny, who accepted it. It felt as though the world had dropped out beneath her. She recalled Snape's rage when he had entered Dumbledore's office, and how Dumbledore said she had "somehow managed", and the need for a ministry inquiry, it all began to make sense. It wasn't just about Grindelwald, she has a ticking time bomb without ever realizing it.

"Effects. . .?"

He sat back down, and remained silent for a moment before responding. "You are familiar with obscurials, no?"

Penny nodded, it had been a subject she read during her summer at the Dursleys. She found it to be a fascinating topic, albeit, horrifically sad.

"Unfettered expression operates much in the same manner as an obscurus, the difference being that the destruction evoked turns inwardly instead of outward. Your power overloads every nerve of your body when it has been unable to be released. When practiced properly, it is ideally distributed back to the atoms it was taken from, that connection you likely feel with the life around you. Yours seems to find an outlet in your emotions, hence what happened with Snape."

"And if it's not regularly released for say, 14 years?"' Penny asked, afraid of the answer.

To busy her shaking hands, she tipped her cup for a swig of the beverage, which burned her esophagus, causing her to choke. Tom smirked momentarily, but took a graceful sip of his own beverage to straighten his face before responding.

"By the luck of your temperament, it appears you are not prone to emotional outbursts. But, your nervous system feeds straight back into your mind. I trust you can imagine what would happen in cases of emotional distress if that system sent large swathes of chaotic energy back along that path," said Tom, his eyebrow raised.

The thought of it sent a shiver down Penny's spine. A moment of anger could be all it took to lose all of herself. Perhaps she had narrowly avoided such a fate because of Tom's intervention. If what he said were true, she could not safely return to her body without his help; she did not want to return to her body without it. Being afraid of oneself was a worse fate than being trapped where she currently was.

"Assuming what you just said was true, what could you possibly do for me?" said Penny, flopping backwards in her chair. It was only when the cushion absorbed her tension that she realized how stiffly she had been sitting. Her muscles relaxed, allowing the wave of exhaustion to pour over her.

"Simple, I'll be your conduit. If you allow me to show you how to redirect your expression, you will never have to fear losing control," Tom said, his tone light. But he remained unnaturally still, as though a single movement would spook her. It reminded Penny eerily of a cat stalking its prey.

"Why would you do that?" Penny said, sitting back up and returning to her stiff posture.

The voice of her brother was in her ear, and alarms were blaring. In the short time they had been a part of the wizarding world had she not been taught never to trust anything magical that she did not understand? Penny knew nothing about Tom, and while she had no real reasons to distrust him, that was not a reason to trust him blindly.

"You are a clever girl, Penny, surely you have reasoned there is something in it for me, or I would not have answered your beckoning," Tom said lazily, reclining in his own chair as he swirled the golden liquid in his cup.

"An honest answer or the one you think I want to hear to make me trust you."

Tom smiled at his glass, but made no response. Instead, he let Penny simmer in her own turmoil and anxieties. She was never a very good judge of character, Snape was her favorite person to hang with after all, and he turned out to be a Death Eater. But she was not her brother and did not require the moral purity he did. A deal with mutual benefits was as trustworthy as any, in-fact, it's what the world operated on.

"What do you want, Tom," Penny said, standing and refilling her own drink this time.

When she turned back around, Tom had stopped his idle fiddling and watched her with a renewed interest he could not keep from his eyes. They glinted with possibility, excitement even.

"In excess, your expression is detrimental to you. As you have likely realized, I am not a physical being, but I rely on magical energy to retain my form. Without it, I'd vanish."

"And access to my expression would be the charger you need to assure your continuation," Penny finished, more to herself than him.

She had never heard of such a being in any of her studies, but she was aware there was a lot more she did not know about magic, and some facets only select few wizards even knew. It did not seem unreasonable that what Tom said was true, nor did she see the harm in their exchange.

"What assures me you won't just siphon all my magic and kill me," said Penny.

"That would return me to the precarious situation I currently find myself in, and I do not fancy uncertainty much."

When Penny looked unconvinced he continued, "You are able to cut the connection at any point you see fit, the decision is yours, assuming you can control the energy when it returns to you in full force," Tom said delicately.

He watched her, raising his glass to his lips, never taking his eyes off of her. It was a gamble, to be sure. But as it stood, the people whom she trusted had not even disclosed as much information about her predicament as Tom. Her exchange with Snape also did not predispose her to wanting to find out what options they had would have for her, or to wait for them to rescue her from herself. The choice was hers, and Penny would trust Tom and speak to no one else about it. Snape had his secrets, she would not feel guilty for having hers.

"Alright Tom, you have yourself a deal. Get me the hell out of here and I'll gladly give you what you need to continue to exist. How do we do it?"

Tom rose and cleared the space between them in two strides. He stood close to Penny, looking down at her through his perfect hair, his lips turned upward at the corners. Gently, he took her hand in his and began tracing on the top of her right hand

"Equivalent Exchange will allow us to become interconnected through your expression, thereby offering it access to my substance. The magic is very old, and not very pleasant, but it's easy enough to perform."

"Can we opt for the semi-connected, no unexpected calls or oversharing version of this spell? I'd really prefer not to rendezvous again," Penny said cooly, pulling her hand back to herself.

The sensations that emanated from Tom's touch sent a prickle up her spine. She wanted to be as far away from him as soon as possible. Something about him made Penny feel as though he would turn into a psycho at any moment, like his calmness hinged on her keeping the conversation going in the direction he wanted. If she could just return to her body she'd figure out a way to undo her exchange, and manage her expression later.

"With pleasure," Tom smirked.

He reached for the paring knife sitting on the bar and handed it to Penny and then rolled up the sleeve of his right arm. Penny merely gaped at him, fearful of what would be asked of her.

"Equivalent Exchange begins with a marking, I assume you would prefer I go first."

"Hey, hey whoa, I'm not into cult-"

"An Equivalent Exchange requires grounding in the body, and then we will unite our magic through it and the mark will disappear. The process is just a bit. . .unpleasant," he said, cutting her off and laying his hand on the bar.

Penny cringed internally. The thought of cutting him seemed much worse than enduring her it herself. She was quite squeamish when it came to blood. Even though she disliked Tom, she did not want to hurt him. His eyes were upon her, accusing Penny of her weakness, so she sucked up her reservation.

"Am I just supposed to doodle, because you're getting a penis if that's the case."

"Our marks must be the same, I'll show you," he said, taking her left hand in his.

At first there was nothing, but then a stream of images began to move across the bridge of their touch. As vivid as though she were staring at it, a picture of a peculiar symbol appeared before her. Her nerves knew what to do and she began carving Tom's smooth, pale skin. First, a large circle, within that circle a hexagon and within that, a triangle. The blood trickled down his arm, more than Penny had expected, but she ignored it, finishing the mark with a circle at the very center.

Without any hesitation, Tom took hold of her hand, forcing it flat onto the bar and began carving, his blood mingling with her own. It was painful, and if Tom were not holding her in place she would have flinched away from him. It was peculiar to think that she was not, in fact, a physical body, but a mental manifestation, everything about the experience felt no different than her actual body. When he finished, he raised his hand, waiting for her own. She grasped his sickly wet and warm hand firmly.

Penny caught Tom's eyes, a look of triumph ever present. His face was no longer handsome, but twisted, almost frightening. The snake had her, and she could not pull away from him if she tried. The whirlwind that had appeared when she lost control with Snape appeared again, surrounding the both of them. The sound was thunderous, angry, chaotic. It threatened to yank them apart, but then abruptly changed its course and began to flow into Tom. The sensation was peculiar, intimate, and intrusive. Parts of her intermingled with Tom who inhaled them greedily. It felt wrong, very wrong, to let something so intricate to herself become a part of him. His handling of it was calloused and rough. Penny wanted to take it all back, but she could not pull her hand away.

The familiar feeling of being pressed on all sides engulfed her. Her vision began to fade and Penny forgot all about Tom. Finally, she burst like a balloon and thudded onto something hard and cold. Blinking, she was uncertain, all was still dark and she was disorientated. She made to roll over, and yelped in pain when she moved her right arm. Her shoulder screamed in agony, causing her to look down at her sling. She was back in her body, at least that was a good sign. But she appeared to be sitting on a pile of leaves which meant she was no longer inside Hogwarts. She could be anywhere and she was not certain how much time had elapsed. What she did know, it was night, she was in some sort of forest, and it was very cold. Her breath was moving like little steam clouds from her mouth, and a tiny snowflake settled on her nose.

Penny's stomach churned, it did not snow at Hogwarts in September. She needed to move and figure out what to do next, she would not survive in the cold for long. When she made it to her feet, with much effort, she wobbled unsteadily. Her body felt like it had run a marathon and her vision spun dangerously. In such a condition she could not walk her way out, not without help. Taking a deep breath, she settled on her best hope. Closing her eyes she muttered, "Expecto Patronum!"

An extravagant parrot appeared before her. She needed Snape to recognize it, and she hoped it'd have enough strength to find him. He had called her absurd for such a form for her patronus, but she felt it suited her personality very well.

"Bring Snape," she whispered to it, closing her eyes and willing it to his office in Hogwarts. When it was gone, she sat back down and conjured a fire to warm herself. Her teeth were chattering uncontrollably in the cold, and her bare legs were miserable. She pulled her cloak around her tightly, trying to stave off the frosty air.

Penny tried hard to remain awake, but the cold was relentless, her fire doing very little to keep her a reasonable temperature. Hours passed, and the tiny snowflake that had tickled her nose was now a light blanket around her, sparkling from the light of the moon. Penny could only think about how beautiful it was to look at. She vaguely wondered why her expression had brought her to such a place, but her sluggish brain finally gave into its need for rest, and sitting against a tree, she fell asleep.

Sooner than she expected, warm hands were touching her face, holding her firmly, trying to force her to focus. She blinked in her haze, but it remained too strong for her. Long black hair and dark eyes swam in her vision but she did not register who they belonged to. But their hands were so blissfully warm against her frozen cheek. She reached for them with her free hand, but her fingers did not bend in the way she intended. They were clumsy, stiff, and devoid of feeling. The sensation should have startled her more, but she was already falling back into her dream space, far away from the cold.

"Wake up!" the voice demanded

How rude of them, did they not know how tired she was? And the wonderful dream they had woken her from. She would not do as they say, she would continue on her way back to her solitude. But a violent shaking stopped her, and she was staring, disgruntled, at the hazy face again. Penny grumbled angrily and tried to roll over, but the person was holding tightly to her shoulders. They forced her into a standing position, and began half walking, half dragging her. She did not know where they were going until heat hit her face so fiercely it hurt. And then she was being laid down, but she no longer wanted to be. The warmth hurt, her fingers and legs were screaming in agony. She cried out in pain, and kicked at the body beside her, trying to get away, escape back to the dream she wanted desperately not to forget.

But her effort was futile, those warm hands were tying her legs and free arm to the frame beneath her, demanding her wakefulness.

"It's painful, but I must. . .if you'd called me sooner, I could have done more," the hoarse voice hissed.

Warm compresses covered her limbs, searing her flesh. Her screaming made her voice ragged, she wanted it to stop, but she did not remember how to speak, see or think. There was only the horrible pain and strong hands rubbing her fingers vigorously. The torment felt like it went on for hours, Penny zoning in and out of the room. Sometimes she thought she had departed her body, but anytime she began to doze again, rough hands bruised her into wakefulness. She was not allowed to return to the call of her subconscious. She simply laid limply, staring at the flames of the fire, imagining they were eating her flesh, until dark robes billowed into her view, retrieving something from the fire. It wasn't until her hand was dipped into a bowl did she realize it was hot water. She choked in her agony, finding her voice.

"Stop!" she begged through tears.

Her fingers surely were no longer fingers, and if they were, she did not want them.

"The pain will be far worse unless you hold still," his angry voice said in her ear, as he began removing her sling.

He would inflict the same agony to her other hand. She tried to yank it away, but her shoulder screamed with pain and she yelped.

"You imbecile, you'll worsen your injuries!"

With his wand he subdued her, and started on the second hand. Penny simply stared dazedly at him, his dark locks so familiar, but her mind could not place them. Feelings stirred in her chest. She thought she was supposed to be relieved but she did not know why. He was familiar, his angry scowl and worry etched into the lines of his face, something about them filled her heart with calmness. He was her tormentor and rescuer, someone she loved dearly, but had a hard time admitting.

Eyelids half open, "I knew you'd come," Penny whispered, deliriously.

"I could hardly ignore that nuisance of a patronus of yours, it attacked me like a rabid dog. Didn't that half-breed teach you how to control it," he replied stiffly.

"I'm sorry-for before," Penny muttered, finally closing her eyes.

This time he did not force her awake, instead he sat in his chair, watching the mangled, insufferable creature fall asleep. His scowl softened and he reached to brush beautiful red hair away from her cheek.

"Sorry wasn't enough," he said in barely more than a whisper. And then he leaned back, arms crossed, face towards the ceiling and closed his eyes, the lines of his face betraying his regret.