Early September of 1995
"Come on, Clearwater! A full report about the Potter case!" a large, beer-bellied man shouted, throwing his Muggle cigar aside as the young, small brunette that stood before him nodded in hesitation.
"But…but of course, sir," the woman managed a weak smile, clutching her Quick Notes and quills in her hand. "Of course…."
"Penny, are you all right?" a voice asked her from behind, and they both turned to see a young Wizard approach them, his camera in his hands. He left a kiss on her forehead, a burning seal of love, and patted their boss on the back.
"We'll be on it, boss," he smiled, an assuring smile plastered on his face, and he grasped the woman named Penny's hand, leading her out of the room and down the hallways created by the office blocks inside the hubbub of The Daily Prophet.
"How the bloody hell, if I may ask, shall we finish this by before the printers begin printing?" Penny demanded as they shrugged on their coats and her friend raised his wand.
"It doesn't matter how late it is," he smiled at her, grasping her hand tightly. "It just matters if we get him the story or not."
They vanished with a blink of white, blinding light.
"Excuse me," Penny said, raising her business card. "We are from the Prophet."
"Let them in!" a familiar voice called, forcing her heart to skip a beat in a blink of an eye, and she was led in the wave of reporters and photographers and gossipers and ministry officials, her hand never losing her assistant's.
"Come on! People, we do not have all day!" the familiar voice shouted over the influx of people, and Penny looked up to see him, standing on the chair.
She watched as his eyes met hers, his brilliant grey striking her back down onto her knees for a moment, and she watched as he looked away, not a familiar, friendly look on his face.
"Know him?" her assistant asked as they sat down in their reserved seats in the front row, ignoring the jeers and cries of protest from the reporters and photographers surrounding them.
Penny looked up at him and managed a small smile, nodding.
"Bastard was made Junior Minister," her assistant snorted, placing his back on the small of her back, stroking her light brown curls softly. "One year with that mad Crouch then promoted Junior Minister. Makes us all feel like underachievers."
"Doesn't he always?" she retorted softly, pulling out her Quick Quills.
"What do you mean, Penelope?" he asked softly, looking at her, and she turned her head, offering a shy smile.
"Nothing, Petre," she smiled, placing her free palm against his warm cheek, her thumb grazing the birthmark near the edge of his ear. "Absolutely nothing."
"Order! ORDER!" an angry voice erupted from the front of the hall, and they both looked towards the angry, short man at the stands.
"Where the hell is he?" the same man demanded, and Penelope felt someone's eyes sear into hers, and she turned to see Percy watching her from the other side of the room. She quickly pulled her hand off of Petre's cheek, her cheeks flushing bright red from embarrassment.
"What is it, Penny?" Petre asked, sensing something was wrong.
"Oh nothing…absolutely nothing," she managed a weak smile as the doors opened and there were timid footsteps.
"Oh, here he comes," Petre's voice filled with excitement as he took the first shot of The Boy Who Lived, the first bright flash that would soon be followed by many other bright flashes.
"Please, Petre," Penelope whispered, recognizing the boy. "Oh…good Lord…" She brought up a hand to her mouth in her own shock and watched as he turned his head to face her.
"What's wrong, love?" Petre asked, rubbing a hand down her back. "It's only Harry Potter…"
"The Harry Potter. Petre, I knew him in school…"
"Hogwarts?"
"Yes. He was my…my friend's brother's best friend…."
"Cripes, Penny," Petre said, a humoring smile crossing his face. "You must know him well…"
"Not really," Penelope said, her eyes watching the now older boy sit down hesitantly in the chair, and she raised her eyes slowly to meet Percy's, who looked at her.
"What did you tell him?" his eyes seemed to question hers back, not a single accusing look in his eyes.
"Nothing," Penny's eyes knew they wouldn't betray her as they screamed that word in the reluctant space between them. "Absolutely nothing."
"Penny…Penelope!" Petre's voice woke them from their daze as the same set of doors slammed open, and Penelope quickly looked down to see her old headmaster, and she beamed with pride for such a courageous, hearty man.
"Now, Scribe, are you ready?" Fudge, the short man who stood at the head of the stands barked, and Percy immediately looked up, the same pompous look on his face.
"Of course, sir!" he shouted in his pompous tone, ignoring to meet Penny's eyes.
"I…I feel sick," Penelope whispered, and she pushed away from Petre's grasp, dropping her notes and running into the lav, vomit coming up to her throat violently. She grasped the edge of the toilet, her knuckles becoming ghost white as her clutch grew tighter. She gasped, taking in large breathes of air as if she was convulsing.
She didn't know how long she kneeled in front of the toilet in that loo, but she heard footsteps later walk into the lavoratory.
Male steps.
Penelope weakly drew out her wand, collapsing onto her bottom, as he knocked on her lavoratory door.
"Penny…," his voice called. "Penny, are you there?"
Penelope remained silent, then with a weak flicker of her wand, her door became unlocked and the metal door opened, creaking as it did.
He stood there, his orange hair sticking up to one side. Penelope knew him well enough that he had run his fingers through his hair before entering a prohibited place. His face looked flushed – not embarrassed, but ashamed.
"Do you want help up?" he asked quietly, outstretching a hand, and she took it, standing back on her feet once more. She shook the dust off of her black skirt, pulling the elastic out of her hair, letting it fall besides her cheeks.
"Penny…don't do this to me," Percy said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder that burned through her blouse. Penelope looked at the hand and then up at his face.
"What am I doing to you?" she asked softly. "What am I doing to you, Percy?"
"Everything, Penny! You're making it seem like we can pick it up from where we left!"
"No," Penelope said, choking on tears. "Percy, no. I can't pick up from where we left off."
"Why not?" Percy asked, his face red with rage, a familiar hue she knew. "Why not, Penny?"
"Because you're now a…a pompous bastard!" she cried aloud, pulling away from his grasp, tears that had once been forced back streaming down her cheeks. "You aren't what you used to be!"
"It's what happens when you get into the Ministry-"
"Working at the Ministry?" Penelope said, shocked to the brink where she had to laugh in disbelief. "Working at the Ministry?"
"Yes, Penny-"
"Working at the Ministry doesn't do any of that, Percy!" she cried, throwing her hands up in hair in disgust at what she was hearing. "Anything whatsoever!"
"Since when did you care?" Percy asked, pushing her violently against the wall. "Since when did you care?"
Penelope stared at him, wanting to say words that she knew mustn't be exposed.
"Why would you care?" Percy asked, placing his two hands on her shoulder more gently than before. "You have some man…some bloody Bulgarian man who's better than me, you have a job at the Prophet, you're close with your family and friends – why do you care?"
And before Penelope could say anything, she felt his lips being pressed against hers, her tears smearing against both their cheeks as she threw her arms instinctively around his arms. It was truly as if they could pick up from where they had stopped.
And when they were finished, Penelope rested her cheek against his shoulder.
"Shall we run away to Roumania, my love?" Percy asked softly against her hair, stroking it gently, as if he never had a streak of arrogance nor anger in him. "Elope there, adopt a couple dragons…"
Penelope smiled at their familiar scheme they had set up in their earlier days and placed her hands on his chest as if nothing had happened for the last two years.
She felt Percy smile his old, familiar smile against her hair, clutching her more tightly than he had before.
"Shall we do that?" he asked quietly, and she nodded, having no need to speak words.
"WEASLEY!" Fudge shouted from the doorway, and they both turned to see the enraged Minister and his assistants ogling at them, their eyes round with surprise.
"It was good to see you again, Mr. Weasley," Penelope said quickly, pulling away from him, and Fudge watched him curiously as he walked back to his spot besides the Minister, where sometimes he seemed to truly fit.
"It was nice as well, Miss Clearwater," Percy returned curtly, and she watched as he vanished with the others.
"Penny, are you all right?" Petre asked, arriving moments later, and Penelope shook her head, managing to smile.
"But of course, Petre," she nodded, taking the Quick Notes and quills he had handed her. "Of course."
"I got for the Quills to record for you," Petre said helpfully, and Penelope managed to smile as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
"Thank you," she smiled as they walked out into the day.
And she ignored the angry bellows that was shouted from the Minister's office, Fudge's and Percy's and everyone else's, echoing down Diagon Alley.
She stopped there, on the cobblestone streets looking up, wondering if her little encounter with the hatred Percy Weasley was a true occurrence – or just a fantasy in her mind.
author's note
Cripes, that was long beyond words, but alas, I am stuck in the airplane for 14 hours. I have nothing better to do. I will try to make my next chapter better, even if that means standing on my head and chewing candy rings will help me.