HAPPY UPDATE DAY!
It's been far too long, friends. This summer has been an exhausting and hot one, and I wish I could say things have gotten better for me since last I wrote, but they have remained more-or-less the same. But I'm trudging along and know the difficulties I'm going through will eventually pass. I'm looking forward to the heat going away. I actually recently got a mild case of heat exhaustion, and I am not a fan. but I'm on the mend now.
I'm still here, still committed to writing Penny, just a little slower these days. But I won't abandoned this story. I want to say thank you to all the readers who have stucked with me, and all your beautiful words. They really cheer me up and bring so much joy to my day. I'm sorry if I haven't responded to you. These days I'm lacking in the energy, andit's either writing or responding, and I feel like you all deserve chapters for your patience. But I do intend to find time this weekend to write to you. But just know, I read what you send me, and your words matter to me.
WARNING: Murder in this chapter. This chapter is a rough one, but I added something at the end so you all know, Penny will make it through this!
It was with great difficulty that Penny picked at the dozens of amazing smelling morsels laid out before her. Between still feeling sick after watching Rufus Scrimgeour be murdered and her worry for Harry, it was nearly impossible to have an appetite, even as hungover as she was.
To no surprise to Penny, Snape did not follow Penny to the kitchens, and when she finally gave up trying to force feed herself, the servant girl, Miranda, and several of her giggling friends arrived to escort her back to her chambers and dress her for the evenings too, Snape was noticeably absent. Grumbling quietly to herself, Penny begrudged him for it, she dearly wanted a rematch after their earlier exchange.
But it was probably a mercy he'd made himself scarce. Spending time in his company was unexpectedly disorientating, and the ease with which they gravitated back to each other, problematic for what Penny knew was the inevitable outcome of the entire debacle. She could not let her silly heart be fooled into trusting him again.
In Snape's room, which was now apparently Penny's, the girls showed her an array of dresses to choose from. Needless to say, the thought of getting dressed up like a doll for whatever horror show was planned for her birthday did not appeal to Penny in the least.
Taking her non-committal grunts as permission to choose for her, they began debating. No one could deny they were better suited for the task, seeing as they seemed to disagree with Penny's assertion that it did not matter what she wore, and felt the choice would somehow forever affect her life for eternity.
Several minutes later, they settled on a satin, emerald green, floor length number. Looking at the thing, Penny had to admit it was a pretty choice, and she could not help but appreciate that it had a much more modest neckline than she'd become accustomed to wearing at the Malfoy Manor.
Penny's fingers glided along the ruching detail at her hip before turning it around, only to realize what the dress didn't expose in cleavage, it made up ten-fold in lack of fabric at the back.
Grimacing at the thought of how many Death Eaters would use it as an excuse to touch the small of her back, Penny resigned herself to the inevitability of misery this night would bring, and let her mind wander back to Harry as she strained her ears in an attempt to try and catch the first indication of the Dark Lord's return.
Hair loosely crimped, and makeup minimal, Penny stood before her reflection wondering if this would be how she looked when she received word of her brother's demise.
Harry Potter, her own blood and chosen one to vanquish the Dark Lord. He was Gryffindor re-incarnate, and she, Penny Potter, stood looking like the emblem of Slytherin; the mark of the very monster Harry was trying to defeat emblazoned on her chest, and she, existing to entertain that monster's whims.
How exactly they'd gone in such polar-opposite directions when they started from the very same womb, Penny did not know. But it was further proof in Penny's mind that it did not matter how much she tried, wished or struggled, life would do whatever it wanted with her.
Feeling decidedly bitter that this night would not be spent with her twin, Penny was all too happy for some distraction from her thoughts when the door behind them opened, and Draco walked in, adorned in a finely tailored tuxedo.
The three girls gave him approving glances before bowing and making their leave, giggling as they went.
"Oh don't look so pathetically forlorn, Penny. That brother of yours remains as disgustingly lucky as ever."
"How do you know?" Penny demanded, twirling on the spot to scrutinize him in an attempt to ascertain if he was telling her the truth or not.
"My servant boy informed me of the Dark Lord's return."
"How do you know that means Harry—"
"Because," Draco went on, scowling in disgust at the mention of Harry's name. "He was in a foul mood and destroyed half his study before turning on the servants."
"You're certain?" Penny pressed, chest tight.
"Since it's your birthday, I'll let the skeptical tone slide, because surely one as clever as yourself will have realized by now that a Malfoy never gives bad information."
Letting out a loud sigh of relief, Penny plopped down back into her chair. She hadn't realized how tense she'd been waiting for news, but releasing it made her feel suddenly exhausted.
"If you want to live long enough to see your next birthday, I suggest looking a bit more disappointed when the news becomes official."
Penny couldn't help but roll her eyes at her friend, who was not at all pleased by this response.
"This isn't a joke, Potter. All eyes will be on you tonight."
"So, what's new?"
"What's new, is the guest list longer than your dress full of prats who would love nothing more than an opportunity to sell you out in order to get into the Dark Lord's good graces!"
"Guest list?" Penny repeated, green eyes furrowed. "Why would there be a guestlist, I'm just turning 17."
"For Merlin's sake, I thought you were supposed to be the smart twin," Draco said, running his hand through his pretty blonde hair and ruffling it in irritation. "This has nothing to do with your birthday, that's just the excuse."
"For. . .?"
"Your debut as the Dark Lord's servant!"
Penny blinked, her brain not following Draco's train of thought at all.
"Think, Potter. You're the sister, no, the twin, of the chosen one, the symbol of the resistance. Even with the Ministry fallen, they're still rallying around the fact the Dark Lord seemingly cannot kill your brother. So, what better way to discredit him than to put you on display, the pet of the Dark Lord, with that mark on your chest telling everyone exactly which side you've chosen. If you don't play the part perfectly—if there is any doubt about your willingness, it'll only serve to strengthen their resolve to follow Potter. But if you want your brother to live with the guilt of knowing he is the cause for your slow, painful death, then by all means, don't take this seriously."
"Point taken," Penny scowled. Draco scowled right back, the pair of them squaring off in a battle of annoyance. "So, are you going to make yourself useful and tell me how to play the perfect pet?" Penny finally demanded.
"I thought you'd never ask," Draco smirked, knowing very well he'd come out the victor. "First, you'll need a lot more eyeliner."
Rummaging through the makeup the servant girls left behind, Draco found what he was looking for and turned back to Penny.
"Is there anything you can't do?" she asked when he popped the lid open and started applying the eyeliner with expert precision.
"The better question would be, is there anything a heterosexual man can do? Remind me why exactly you're attracted to them?"
Draco didn't let Penny respond because he'd move to her lips where he applied a lovely berry lipstick that made her full lips look much too inviting.
Offering Penny his hand, he pulled her from the chair and made her do a little twirl, grey eyes appraising her.
"It irritates me, how good-looking you are," he concluded, letting her go with a sigh.
"Thanks for making a girl feel pretty on her birthday," Penny smiled, leaning in to press her cheek against his because she did not want to ruin her lipstick.
"You won't be thanking me when you spend all night getting harassed because of it."
"Oh, I don't know, I rather like the idea of spending the night watching Snape lose his mind."
"He is the jealous type," Draco sighed. "Just—" he started, hand squeezing hers. "Be careful tonight, please."
They held each other's gaze, a quiet understanding passing between them. Penny nodded. No matter what went on tonight, there was a comfort in knowing Draco, too, had been forced to do whatever was required of him to survive, and that fact alone made Penny feel suddenly less alone.
Leaving the confinement of her room was like being transported to another world. Suddenly, Penny could hear the sounds of hundreds of voices coming from down the stairs. As they walked through the halls, servants dressed in the same uniform Penny once disguised herself in, dashed back-and-forth frantically, not even noticing either of them.
After leading Penny through the maze of the manor, Malfoy pointed to a door at the end of the hall.
"They're waiting for you there," he nodded.
"The perfect pet," Penny said more as a reminder to herself than him. Draco grimaced slightly before forcing himself to turn away and looking very much like he did not want to leave her there, hands tucked into the depths of his pockets.
Penny watched him for a long moment, thinking, if her life had been normal, and she, just an ordinary teenage girl, they might have spent this day wandering the streets of London, drinking too much booze and overindulging in all the things most people feel nostalgic for when they think of their youth. Instead, they were caught in the midst of a war that Penny felt sure, neither of them would want to look back on. So, today, the birthday she'd once looked forward to, instead of being one to celebrate, would be one she knew they'd both spend the rest of their lives trying to forget.
Somehow finding the resolve to walk into her own torment, Penny pushed the door open and found herself in a small room full of the Death Eaters all adorned in their expensive robes, masks pulled up.
Forcing herself to appear unfazed by all the sets of eyes that turned in her direction, Penny shut the door behind her with a snap.
"If it isn't the birthday girl, " Amycus said, stepping forward to welcome her with a lingering kiss on her cheek, his hand sliding, just as Penny dreaded, to her lower back.
His fingernails scraped along it, pressing just hard enough to make it uncomfortable and draw Penny closer into him.
Reminding herself she'd been the idiot who'd signed herself up for this and could not look back now, she put on a lazy smile and said, voice slightly deeper than usual. "Amycus," giving his cheek a kiss in return.
Those ugly brown eyes of his glinted in malicious delight when she pulled away. "Womanhood suits you," he said, eyes wandering down the length of her.
"I wouldn't go that far, brother," said Alecto from behind his brother, his much prettier eyes appraising Penny with disgust. "But I will admit this version of her is certainly preferential to the sickly sullen girl from the pub."
"Amazing what the right company can do for one's complexion," Penny said, stepping past Amycus and surprising Alecto with a kiss to his cheek.
Brows furrowed in suspicion, he accepted the kiss, giving her a reluctant one in return.
"This wench is what all the fuss is for?" interjected the angry tones of a dark-haired man with a thick accent.
Penny peered past Alecto and found him in the corner standing beside Bellatrix, and realized he must be her husband, Rudolphus. He had the same snobbish air to him, and looked upon Penny as if she were nothing more than an ant beneath his shoe. "I expected beauty and grace befitting the Dark Lord!" he went on, Bellatrix smirking from beside him as she picked at her nails.
"Don't pretend you have an eye for such things, Lestrange," retorted Mulciber, who was leaning against the wall across from Penny, his arms crossed. Bellatrix shot him a look of loathing, but made no response.
Mulciber did not acknowledge her, instead his gaze was on Penny, giving her a blatant once over as the other Death Eaters laughed at Rudolphus' expense. "But I'll be more than happy to take your turn with the girl once Severus gets bored with her."
"Careful Mulciber, don't want to end up like Yaxley, do you," said Rowle with a bark of laughter as they all turned to Yaxley skulking near the window, purposefully avoiding Penny's gaze, his face still bruised from earlier.
"Since when is Severus inclined to chivalry?" said Alecto in a tone of disgust, eyeing Yaxley's face with some interest.
"Since he discovered the pleasures of cunt," replied Mulciber.
"Just not hers," Yaxley said, apparently unable to keep quiet any longer.
"All this for a girl he hasn't fucked? Even Severus isn't that much of a boring prick," Alecto said, eyes flashing back to Penny.
"My dear brother, just because she is not to your taste does not mean our Penny isn't special. How many of her sex can claim to have earned the honor to be marked and placed among our ranks?," Amycus said, appearing at Penny's side and tapping the mark on her chest before turning to the room, as though waiting for an answer.
They all shot glances at Bellatrix, whose face was red with fury. But still, they all remained silent, so Amycus turned back to Penny and took her hand in his, turning it over with more force than was necessary. His finger skimmed the veins on the inside of her wrist as he went on, "She commands the power of Grindelwald and has the favor of the Dark Lord. You cannot be stupid enough to believe Severus' choice was a carnal one. No, he did not idly select Penny, and nor will he be relinquishing his claim on her anytime soon."
A shiver crept up Penny's spine as she looked back into those horrible brown eyes, the faintest of smiles playing at the corners of his lips. It reminded Penny of the night he'd pinned her to the ground and stabbed her with that cursed blade from him. She felt caught in his snare, as though he knew something Penny wouldn't understand until it was too late.
But then the snare was broken, and the door flung open, admitting a new guest.
Black eyes surveyed the room before him, a sneer curling his lip when they finally landed on Amycus. Loathing passed between them, Penny knew, though Amycus hid his with a placid smile and Snape, a sharp, calculating gaze.
"Shall I inform the Dark Lord that his instructions about her arrival were not clear enough," Snape said, eyes surveying the room again. "Or is there some reason you are not already downstairs?"
The room jumped to attention at his words, Penny marveling somewhat at the amount of respect he commanded. Apparently, murdering an old, dying man counted for quite a bit with this lot.
Masks securely in place and bodies moving toward a door on the opposite side of the room, Snape's black eye's finally found Penny. He froze midstep, gaze, like every other one before him, moving along the length of her body. When he finally looked back at her face, she gave him a dazzling but damning smile, to which he scowled and pulled his mask to cover his face.
Pushing Penny forward by the shoulder, Snape led her after the Death Eaters, who were now exiting down a set of stairs. At the bottom, Penny was placed at the center, following Rudolphus and Bellatrix. Alecto and Amycus flanked her on either side, and Snape came up just behind her with Yaxley and Rowle following behind him.
Her heart deciding now was a good time to patter erratically, Penny began to worry about what would happen next. Even if she could escape her guard, for a lack of a better word, Penny knew the collar around her neck would prevent her from getting very far. Whatever was waiting for her, she'd have to face it.
So, Penny squared her shoulders, and for good measure, stuck her nose in the air the way Malfoy often did. Even if she didn't feel confident, Penny would sure as hell look it.
A few corridors later, they came upon some ornate double doors that flew open to admit them entrance. The light beamed out at them like the sun on a hot summer's day, making Penny blink rapidly. A clamor of voices met her ears, only for a wave of silence to crash over the room as soon as they started moving through it.
Foot over the threshold, Penny understood exactly what Draco had meant about the guest list. Hundreds of people filled the ballroom before her, their eyes snapping automatically to Penny as the guests scampered out of the way of Penny and her guard.
It was a spectacle, she was a spectacle, and they, the audience, cast judgment on the part she was to play.
Performance being something Penny understood well, she kept herself aloof, something that felt different from those observing her. She made eye contact with no one, instead looking ahead to her destination, as though nothing could be more important than making it across this room. The Dark Lord, sitting on what looked to be a throne at the head of the room, trailed their progress, red eyes just as vivid, even at a distance.
The murmurs heightened to fever pitch as she passed through the center of the room, Penny catching things like, "Not that pretty," "Why her," and "Looks nothing like him."
As they neared the throne, Penny was all too happy to leave her care for their opinions of her behind, and her attention became fixated, as it always did, on the monster waiting for her and looking much pleased with what he beheld.
Making their way up the several stairs that set Voldemort above his audience, Bellatrix and Rodolphus split, Snape pushing Penny toward the Dark Lord as the rest of them made a semi-circle around them.
Red met green and Penny's knee's crumpled beneath her, Penny hitting the ground harder than she expected, that heart in her chest pounding in sheer terror now.
He'd heard it; felt it; seen it, Penny knew this from the long thin hand caressing her hair. He'd risen and moved to the place she cowered before him, Penny saying a silent prayer that the scene somehow appeared reverent and not as pathetic as she felt it must.
His hand leaving her head and robe brushing against her arm as he stepped up beside Penny, Voldemort began, voice high and clear, "When my great ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, turned 17, his family bestowed upon him, not only the honor of carrying on such a lineage, but the power they'd each cultivated through generations of commitment to the protection of magic from dirty-blooded thieves, who work tirelessly to overthrow the natural order of things."
Voldemort paused, voices throughout the room yelling their approval, or adding an expletive of disapproval in obvious agreement to his sentiment about muggles.
"Brainwashed by muggle-loving fools, I fear our youth has been purposefully ill-equipped to receive the burden of our mandate, which has allowed the unworthy to eat of the fruit that was never meant for them.'
More shouts, followed by silence as Voldemort moved again, a thin white-hand reaching for her own.
Shaking slightly, Penny accepted his, allowing him to lead her to her feet, her eyes fixed on the ground until a cold finger coaxed her chin upward, and she was forced to look into that lipless smile and cold red eyes that glinted with an excitement that turned Penny's stomach.
"As you are all well aware, I have accepted the honor of purging my ancestor's legacy and that which he built with his own hands, Hogwarts, of the kind of filth that has preyed upon your children for too long."
A roar of anger erupted over the room, the red eyes moving away from Penny to scan the teeming faces. When he was satisfied with their display, he raised a hand and silence again followed.
"If we are to reclaim the corrupted minds of these addled youth, we must do it with a firm hand, expecting of them no-less than Salazar Slytherin's family demanded of him before bestowing upon him the gifts of their labor—proof of their dedication to our mandate."
Eye's back on her face, Voldemort turned Penelope around to face the crowd before them, as he went on, "My dear pet, Penelope, stands here before you as the first to pay the toll of such a cleansing, and on this last day of July, her 17th namesake, will take the test I have set before her, and should she forsake the limitations of the teachings of Albus Dumbledore, will be given the favor, not from the family she was given, but the one she chose."
Penny tried not to focus on any particular face, tried to calm her breathing in an effort to think past the stabs of pain Voldemort's touch always brought. But these efforts were thwarted when those looking up at her now turned to her right, some appeared riotously happy, others disturbed; Penny knowing in her very core of her being that when she finally turned, she would be leaving behind a part of herself that she would never be able to get back.
This was it, her impossible crossroads. One path leading to a horrendous, early death, the other, the destruction of her soul.
Voices were murmuring, some jeering, others pointing, and still, Penny didn't look, couldn't. She was too afraid of the choice and where she what she would become on the other side of it. Out of instinct, her eyes found him instead. They were fixed to her face, that grotesque mask of his hiding whatever he was thinking.
If they could speak plainly, what would he say? Was he thinking of when he too, stood at the very same precipice? Did he regret the choice he'd made—given the opportunity again, would he walk freely into the waiting arms of death, or find himself standing here a second time?
And then she wondered, did he harbor the secret hope that she would choose death so he could finally be free of her?
Even as she thought it, his dark eyes flashed angrily, the hand at his side snapping into an angry fist. And then he stepped forward, reached for her right hand and pressed her wand into her palm, his soft skin lingering on hers longer than was necessary.
Back in position, the black eyes released hers, and like everyone else's, turned to what waited for Penny.
Taking a shuddering breath, Penny followed suit, finding her worst nightmare dangling several feet in the air.
Head lulled sickly back, she revolved in a slow circle above them all. Gagged and profusely crying silent tears, Penny stared into the face of Charity Burbage. While Penny had never taken her class, Muggle Studies, she'd had many interactions with the woman, who was always eager to talk to the students who had lived in the muggle-world.
Penny had found the woman articulate, knowledgeable and less eccentric than Mr. Weasley, but none-the-less ignorant about the most average of muggle habits.
With a lazy flick of his wand, the gag was released and the pleading began, sending a dagger right into Penny's heart. She knew all too well what it felt like to be tied up and tormented for the amusement of others.
"For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She taught the witches and wizards all about muggles . . . about how they are different than us. Not content with polluting the minds of Wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of Mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirous circumstance. . . .She would have us all mate with muggles."
There was no mistaking the anger and contempt in Voldmort's voice, and everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably, Penny barely aware of them, transfixed by the woman revolving before her. A second time she faced Penny, her eyes widening in comprehension, pleading beginning anew.
"Penny, please Penny,," she cried, her voice shaking as she circled away again. Her bleary gaze holding Penny's and reminding her, most violently, of a pair of blue eyes, the only other pair she'd ever witnessed contain such fear.
"Now, my pet, her fate is yours to decide. Will you offer such heinous crimes mercy, as that senile old man taught you, or will you rise above the limitations of such ideology and execute judgment for the sake of your brethren she's spent her life victimizing?"
Penny did not know how she was still standing upright. The legs beneath the skirt of her dress were shaking so violently, Penny dared not move from the spot, and she was certain that at any moment she would lose the meager contents of her stomach.
Voldemort was asking, no he expected her to kill Charity Burbage. She was to take her life in cold blood merely because Charity disagreed with his violence against muggles and imagined a world where such prejudice need not exist.
How was Penny supposed to do it? And then she remembered the wand in her hand and the man who'd put it there. Had he known this would be the price? By placing it in her hand, was he asking her to pay it—to choose living at any cost?
She squeezed her yule wand, how foreign it felt, awkward almost. She told herself she would lift it and be done with this, but her arm did not move, and instead Professor Burbage cried even louder, making Penny jump.
"The guilty will do anything to avoid the punishments of their sins, Penelope. To be just is not to be swayed by such performances," Voldemort whispered in her ear, making Penny's entire body recoil. "Do not disappoint me, my pet," he said, giving both her shoulders a squeeze before pushing her forward.
Penny stumbled, but despite feeling like led, her feet moved.
Pet. The perfect pet. She'd made that promise to Draco. Was he watching her now the way she'd watched him on that tower? Could their friendship survive her becoming a murderer? And then she remembered his warning—her punishment for disobedience, not even Snape could save her from that.
Like in that room with Scrimgeour, Voldemort was showing her that none were admitted into his inner circle on goodwill alone. She would prove herself or die, and Penny did not want to die. But that meant it was Professor Burbage who would need to die.
She didn't want to do it but she also didn't know how to do it. Penny pushed aside the thought, trying to tell herself she was a coward. surely death was a better option? Had not her parents, when they were alive, refused to buckle to such evil?
But Penny wasn't like them, she'd never been like any of them—Harry, Sirius, Lupin. She'd always been someone peering in, trying desperately to fit in, belong. But she didn't, because if she had, they wouldn't have left her like this.
She'd wasted years, tears and energy trying to be something else, trying to muster a goodness that would have no part in her. But deep down inside, she wasn't good, not like Harry was. Penny was selfish. She could not sacrifice herself, not in the way he always did, fearless in the face of his death.
Penny wanted to live.
But, Penny did not know how to do it. Did not know how to take another life. She'd never even so much as read about the theory of the killing curse. Were mere words capable of such harm?
Words with the intent to harm are. So long as you mean it, you will find yourself successful.
It was that smooth voice Penny had not heard for the last several months. He'd gone silent the night Dumbledore fell off those ramparts. And while Penny had been glad to be rid of him then, she found a strange sense of comfort in his words, his presence with her now.
I don't know if I c-can, Penny thought back.
You can, you simply do not want to believe you're capable of such a thing, but we all are.
You act as though this is something as simple as choosing which tea to drink!
If you accept that you made this choice the day you decided to ignore that Professor of your's warnings and waltz right in here, it would be.
I did not come here wanting to kill anyone!
No, but you knew this choice was inevitable, and perhaps even hoped it would relieve you of the burden of pain you were feeling.
I'm not suicidal, Penny shot back defensively.
Love does many things to us we don't like admitting to, there is no denying now that you were being reckless. Regardless, the consequence of such actions stands before you, and now you must decide whether you will join the ranks of us murderers, or accept the death befitting the sister of Harry Potter. But do not try to convince me you are helpless, you are more powerful than any of them can even imagine, Penelope. This task, it will not break you unless you let it.
Grindelwald's words, as vile as Penny knew she should think they were, seeped into the deepest recesses of her insecurities; sent a sense of control surging through her. Everything from what she ate, to the beliefs she held, they'd been dictated to her by her brother, Lupin, Sirius, the memory of her parents, her professors, and life, but Grindelwald's words, they suddenly showed Penny how she could be free of it. Free of the burden of knowing she disappointed them, because she no longer had to care.
This time, when Penny went to lift her arm, it moved on her command. Her eyes finding Charity's again as she turned for a third time, and those two words left Penny's mouth with a disturbing ease.
"Avada Kedavra."
The lifeless form hit the floor with a sickening thud, blood spurting from her head and the room erupting into a wave of noise, but Penny heard nothing, saw nothing—there was only the empty eyes of Charity Burbage and that horrible silence that now emanated from her and threatened to swallow Penny whole.
Looking much too intensely than was polite at the bleeding, twitching form, Penny understood that horrible silence she always associated with death, it came from inside her.
And then his awful voice spoke again, and Penny's instincts forced her attention back to him.
"My servants, your sister has proven herself committed, reward her accordingly," Voldemort said, hands outspread as though he were some benevolent leader offering Penny sanctuary.
To Penny's horror, she watched helpless, as all throughout the room, masked figures stepped forward, their wands pointing toward Penny.
Taking a step backward even though it would do nothing to help her, Penny looked around wildly, finding the Death Eaters who escorted her, including Snape, also pointing their wands at her.
"Donum," they chanted in unison, their wand tips bursting into life.
Penny wanted to decline, to force them to keep whatever they intended to impart to her; she'd had more than enough of other wizard's power, but the room had already exploded into an array of light. Jets of every shade of color intertwining and spiraling straight toward Penny.
There was no dodging or shielding, and so Penny let her wand clatter to the floor and braced herself.
The jets of light broke apart before connecting with her, forming a cage around Penny. It rattled several times before it began closing in on her, and Penny stood, engulfed by their power and knowledge, a horrible tingling sensation spreading across her body as the light pressed in on her, forcing itself into her very being. The process was excruciating, Penny feeling as though it were searing the very flesh off her bones in order to find her core. And when it did, she felt violated by all that which forced itself to become a part of her, tainting Penny with all the ugliness they'd resorted to in order to acquire such power.
Enveloped in the roar of magic, her mind reeling as images, thoughts, memories and ideas that were not her own pulsed through her mind, Penny fell to her knees clasping her head, certain she could not endure another moment of the pain.
But then, as her throat dried up from screaming and cold sweat rolled down her face, the noise and pain dissipated, leaving her looking up into the face of the orchestrator of this all.
"And from your Master," he said, a cold hand taking her own before she could even comprehend what was happening. He turned it over to reveal her palm, and with a silver dagger, sliced it so deeply blood spurted out. "I bequeath you my blood, the blood of Salazar Slytherin, because family is not made, it's chosen," and slicing his own palm, Voldemort grasped Penny's hand, pressing their wounds together.
Penny could only watch in horror as the Dark Lord's wand moved with unnatural skill and speed, and the blood dripping down their wrists, rose from the ground and began circling the other's several times and then finally melding together so they could no longer be distinguished before returning to hers and his hand, where the cut with which they poured accepted it back and closed.
"Perfected in your master's image," Voldemort said quietly, pulling a dumbstruck Penny to her feet, a vile hand reaching out to caress Penny's cheek in a grossly approving manner, before he he nodded to the Death Eaters standing just behind Penny, and they followed him into the crowd, leaving Penny standing there stupidly.
The room erupted in sudden chaos, cheers and praise following Voldemort.
Seeing her moment to find a private place to vomit, as everyone was distracted, particularly Snape, who had turned away from Penny to say something to another Death Eater, Penny darted down the stairs and to the back of the ballroom and through a door that led into the garden out the back.
Chest constricting and breathing coming in great gasps, Penny only made it as far as the wall of the veranda before she had to lean against it for support.
Her mind was still swirling with the intrusion of whatever the Death Eaters had passed onto Penny, but that was not what was sending her into a panic. As awful as it was to admit to herself, it was a feeling she'd become accustomed to—the intrusion of others in her mind, what with Harry, Tom and Grindelwald, it was just normal to her now.
It was whatever Voldemort had done to her that frightened Penny. It was wrong, like he'd changed her somehow, embedded a part of himself in her that she no longer could distinguish him from herself.
White dots bursting into her vision, Penny teetered sideways. Not having the wherewithal to steady herself, Penny was surprised when she did not hit the ground but fell instead into a soft embrace, a gentle voice saying, "Gotcha. Here, this will help," he said, holding a vial just beneath Penny's nose.
The most magnificent smell rose from it, and Penny found the more she breathed them in, the steadier the world around her became.
"That's it, find your bearings."
Finally calm enough to register what was going on, Penny turned her head to look at the stranger helping her.
The turquoise eyes crinkled almost nervously at the scrutiny Penny's own green one's gave him, a lopsided smile taking up residence on his kind face.
"Sorry, but do I know you?" Penny said, the man still holding her as though he were afraid she might still teeter over.
"Oh, well, not officially. Unfortunately our meeting got delayed due to, well, with, uh, the untimely passing of Albus. But I'm Newt Scamander, and you're Penelope Potter, Hagrid's favorite student.
"Penny," she corrected automatically. "Newt Scamander? As in the Newt Scamander?"
"You-you've heard of me?" he said, looking both skeptical and delighted at the same time.
"Who hasn't?"
"My research is rather niche s-so I could see—"
"Niche? Your work was foundational, only a nitwit wouldn't know you're one of the most brilliant researchers of our time."
Newt's cheeks flushed red, his gaze darting away from Penny's.
"I-I don't know what to say. You're much too generous, Penelo-Penny!" he corrected quickly.
They stood in silence for a long moment before Penny cleared her throat, "I think I'm alright."
"R-right!"
He scrambled away from her, fidgeting awkwardly with the vial. "Here, you keep them, in case you have another one," he finally said, offering it to Penny.
"Another what?"
"Panic attack. I had plenty in my time and after that display. . ." he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. "When I saw you, I just thought, if it were me, I wouldn't want to be alone."
Penny stared at the peculiar man before her, the heart in her chest, even in the midst of all the horrible new feelings coursing through her, felt an intense gratitude for those words.
"I thought that if I got away from the. . .out of there, It might be less. . ." but Penny couldn't finish her sentence because she didn't know how to. Though she knew she'd done it, murdered another human, it did not quite feel real to her. But then, nothing about her felt real, everything was off kilter, and she felt like a stranger in her own body.
"It's in here," Newt said after a moment, knocking on the place just above Penny's heart. "You can't run from that, but I don't really think you want to."
"What makes you think that?"
"Because you're a good person," Newt said, voice full of a confidence that seemed suddenly absurd considering the length of their acquaintance.
"You're only saying that because you don't know me."
"No, actually, I have a sense about these things. And I do know you."
"Yeah? What do you know?"
"I know that you are a uniquely aware, talented and empathetic individual."
"And how would you know that," Penny practically snorted.
"Because a Sphynx has bonded with you, and Sphynxes are notoriously picky about who they will bond with, the last recorded occurrence being over 100 years ago."
"You're the friend Hagrid wrote to about Fleamont?"
"Fleamont? What a marvelous name," Newt smiled, taking a small bow. "And indeed I am. Hagrid relayed to me some of the most peculiar observations about you and your Fleamont, and I begged him to introduce us."
"You wanted to meet us?" Penny said, her cheeks burning slightly.
"Very much so," he nodded with a shy smile. "Where might he be?"
"Oh, hiding, I imagine. He made himself scarce after scratching the Dark Lord's face, but maybe—" Penny said, looking around, uncertain if it would work. "Fleamont,"she called.
Penny looked around, about to call again, thinking Fleamont hadn't heard her when Newt yelped.
Turning, she found him reaching for the cat on his shoulder, Fleamont batting at something that was squealing from Newt's shirt pocket.
"Hey!" Penny said, grabbing the wild-eyed cat by its middle. "Don't be so rude, Newt came all this way to meet you, and his. . .?"
"Bowtruckle," said Newt.
"—isn't food."
Setting the cat on the ledge of the wall, Penny stepped forward and looked down into Newt's pocket.
"I'm sorry, are you alright?"
The tiny bowtruckle poked its shaking head out and scowled at the cat before seemingly going on some rant Penny did not understand.
"Now, Pick, Penny was just being nice, and Fleamont is a cat," Newt said in what Penny assumed must be his stern voice, because Pick ended his tirade and sunk back into the pocket.
Turning back to Fleamont, Newt broke into a flurry of mutterings as he inspected the cat who had not even acknowledged the nervous man. "He's absolutely marvelous. I've never seen one at such ease around a human," he mused as Fleamont hopped onto Penny's shoulder and curled himself around Penny's neck, purring loudly.
"I think he-he has powers," Penny said, feeling utterly absurd as the words tumbled from her mouth.
"Have they started manifesting already?" Newt said, eyes snapping back to Penny.
"You mean it's normal?"
"Let's just say, it's not unexpected. As one might expect, normal for a Sphynx bonded to a human varies wildly."
"Why?"
"Because it depends on your own magic, how you feel about yourself, and ultimately whether he respects you or not. Sphynxes are harsh judges of character and will only listen to those humans they deem worthy and consistent in their sense of self of morality."
"I think you're pretty great, too," Penny whispered to the cat, kissing the top of his head and making Newt beam at the pair of them.
"Do you mind if we try something? I'm just ever so curious."
"Sure," said Penny.
"Give him a command."
"Any command?"
Newt nodded and Penny thought for a moment and then said, "Fleamont can you take us wherever you were earlier?"
With a lazy meow and a flick of his tail, everything around them dissolved, and Penny felt as though she were floating through space before doing a somersault and landing hard on her feet.
Blinking several times, Penny looked from the cat purring at her feet to the stone brick walls that reached as far up as she could see, all of them covered in overgrown ivy.
Doing an about face, Penny realized she knew this place. It was the labyrinth Fleamont had led her through the night she'd followed Sirius through the veil and she'd found Regulus on that hill watching him passover.
"Fleamont, how did you. . ." Penny said weakly, before realizing they were missing their tag-along.
"Newt?" Penny called. "Where the hell is Newt?" Penny said to the cat, suddenly afraid they'd left him in the void.
Flicking his tail in irritation, Fleamont meowed for a second time and Penny was pulled back the way she'd come.
Another yelp, and Penny realized they'd returned. Newt was staring at her and Fleamont with a mix of unease and wonder.
"Sorry, I thought he'd bring you too."
"N-no worries. I suspect his abilities are limited to you because you are akin to an extension of himself."
"That explains a lot," Penny mumbled. "Do you think—" Penny started only to be cut off by the seething tones of Severus Snape.
"Potter!"
The cat at Penny's feet perked up at the sound and pranced his way toward Snape, slowing his tirade.
"I thought I told you to make yourself scarce, unless you'd like to see her," Snape jerked his head toward Penny, "punished for your ego."
The cat remained unapologetically unperturbed as he stared up at Snape, as though waiting for something.
"Fine," Snape spat, reaching in his pocket and tossing something that looked alarmingly close to a squirming niffler to the cat before Fleamont disappeared in a cloud of vapor.
"What could have possibly possessed you to wander off alone on tonight of all nights!"
"B-beg your pardon, but Penny was in much need of some fresh air," interjected Newt, stepping between Snape and Penny, stopping him in his tracks and looking mildly terrified by the furious man.
"And who the hell are you exactly?"
"N-Newt. Newt Scamander."
"Charmed, I'm sure," Snape drawled sardonically. "Your intrusion is not needed, so feel free to scram," Snape added, stepping around him to get to Penny.
"N-no."
"Excuse me?" Snape said, his voice dangerously quiet now, as he stilled and surveyed Newt with the utmost contempt.
"Who do you think you are, c-coming out here to yell at her after, after. . .what she's been through."
Lip curling and voice barely audible now, Snape replied, "Her fiancé."
Penny watched the confusion flit across Newt's face and forced herself to suppress a snort of laughter. Snape was angry and desperate enough to identify himself as her fiancé. This kind of opportunity would not come around twice.
But looking at Newt and the way he squared his shoulders, wanting nothing more to help Penny, despite only being acquainted with her, she could not leave him to Snape's mercy and stepped forward.
"What he says is true, Newt."
"But are you alright?" Newt pressed.
"I am now, thanks to you," Penny said, forcing a small smile to her lips. "But it'd be best if you went now, I wouldn't want you to get caught up in anything because of me."
"O-okay, if that's what you want, Penny," he said, taking a few steps toward the garden doors before looking back at Penny. "Hagrid knows how to reach me, if-if you want to finish this conversation some other time."
"I'd love that."
Newt smiled and gave an awkward wave, "Happy birthday, then."
"I'd love that?" Snape repeated incredulously.
"What? Don't tell me you're jealous," Penny said, still watching Newt as he sauntered off before disappearing.
"No, just continually astounded by your desperation. He's at least five times your age!"
"Is he?" Penny said, sounding much too impressed for Snape's liking.
He looked on the verge of screaming at her before doing a most peculiar thing and closing his eyes and taking two deep breaths.
"Are you alright," Snape said, echoing Newt, but in a much more clipped tone, as though the effort caused him a great deal of pain.
"If I wasn't, why would you care," replied Penny, sinking into the cushioned lawn chair just to her left.
"I-I," Snape spluttered dark eyes snapping open. "I care because the Dark Lord has made it my business to care, seeing as you now hold a most unique position."
"Unique is not quite the word I'd use to describe being on the receiving end of that thing's attention."
"Watch your mouth, Potter—"
"Or what, you'll tell on me so he can take me into that study of his and teach me a lesson?" Penny offered, not even having the energy to utter the words with any condescension.
"You should have never come here," was all Snape could say after a poignant silence.
"Well, no going back now. It's official, I'm a Death Eater and a murderer."
"Shut up, Potter and get up."
"Why?" Penny said, brows furrowed as she looked up at him.
He leaned down, hand gently taking her own and pulled her to her feet. "Because what you are, is a woman on her birthday."
On her feet, the black eyes followed that familiar descent along the length of her body, slowing at the curve of her hips before returning to the green that were equally as interested in him. "You look—lovely," he said in barely more than a whisper.
There was no malice, no snark, no lie in his words, no objectification. He spoke of the person standing before him, not the body on display in the dress.
Looking back at him, Penny could sense no motive in him to get something from her. He was simply a man and she a woman. His compliment was nothing more than that, a way to convey what he was thinking in this moment.
Penny's cheeks betrayed her and flushed red.
"Careful, darling, you wouldn't want me to get accustomed to your compliments," Penny finally said, as she attempted to get a handle on her hormones.
"And if I did want that?"
The breath caught in Penny's chest and she knew despite how she tried to hide it, he hadn't missed it.
"If I wanted—just for tonight,"—Snape was moving, his right hand slipping around her waist and finding the exposed skin of her lower back. He pulled slightly, and she fell into his chest— "for it to be like it was."
The words were like velvet on Penny's ear, his warm breath nearly making her eyes roll into the back of her head.
Their bodies pressed much more closely together than they had ever been before, sending a raging storm of electricity through Penny, igniting her at her very core.
She wanted to turn her head, look up and find his lips, but she didn't let herself do it. She fought the urge with every fiber of her being.
He was a lie, the most intoxicating lie Penny had ever been taken in by. She could not let herself fall for it, not again.
There was no doubt in Penny's mind that he knew the words to speak to make her legs shake, the touches to make her his, and yet he hesitated, as though suddenly unsure of himself.
There they stood, locked together, Penny clutching his chest, trying to find the resolve she wasn't even sure she had, to push him away; Snape breathing in her ear as his hand slowly slid down toward her arm, and tugged it free.
A moment later, a soft violin began to play and Snape began to move, leading Penny in a slow dance.
Breathing erratic and every fiber of her being telling her to kiss him, touch him, ravish him in ways she'd only dreamed of, Penny danced with Snape. And for the span of those melancholic notes, it was like none of it had ever happened. They were two people who found themselves in this moment, because that's what they wanted.
But even make-believe could not dull the ache in Penny's heart, the same ache that reminded her—he hadn't chosen her.
Yes, Severus Snape was the desire between her legs, the loneliness of her nights and the joy of her days, but he was also the undoing of her very being.
No amount of pretty words could change the fact he'd betrayed her—just like this, in the safety of his arms—and in that she found the single shred of resolve she needed to pull free of his grasp and say, "It can never be how it was. Whoever that girl was, she's gone now, and I don't miss her."
And then Penny turned, leaving Snape to watch her go, full of a kind of misery he'd never felt before.
Unrequited love, rejection, those were the things he was used to, understood. But holding her in his arms, even for a moment, in every place their skin met, the truth of what she thought of him was as plain as his own despicable thoughts.
Penny Potter loved him, Severus Snape, with her whole being. So much so, that she'd even contemplated giving him what he'd asked for, because that love, it made her want to believe in him, believe he was deserving of forgiveness.
But the worse truth, the one that would haunt Snape's waking and sleeping hours until the end of his miserable life; the reason she had not listened to her heart, was because she believed that he'd never loved her.
It was then that he finally saw what kind of monster he'd consigned himself to being, if, she, of all people;the thing that consumed his every thought, that was the reason for his every action; the purpose of his very breathing had not the slightest clue that she was everything to him—then there was no hope for him, because to Severus Snape, Penny Potter was everything, the only thing he'd ever wanted more than power. And she did not know how he loved her—would always love her.
"No you don't," hissed a voice in Penny's ear when she'd returned to the festivities and was headed toward the bar.
After everything that'd transpired this day, a strong drink felt like a legitimate desire, so she was surprised when she was dragged away and pulled through a door that led into a deserted corridor.
"Excuse me," Penny snapped, pulling her hand free of her accoster, only to turn and realize it was Draco.
"Oh, it's you. Is there a reason you felt the need to be so gruff?"
"Sorry, Amycus is looking for you," Draco said, glancing down both ends of the corridor before adding, "Come on," and darted across the hall and through another door.
"It's not like he could make this day any worse than it already is," said Penny, gathering up her dress and running after him.
"I assure you, he could and fully intends to."
A flight and a half of stairs and a wheezing Penny later, Draco came to a stop, Penny nearly running into him.
Tapping the door with his wand, he opened it, shoved Penny inside and locked it behind him.
Before Penny was a sitting room nicer than anything she'd ever seen. Brilliant fabrics of emerald and silver lined the windows that reached from the floor to the ceiling, a lush sofa set facing it, a table full of sparkling bottles of liquor sitting off to its right.
"Where are we?" Penny asked, pulling a cork off a golden bottle so she could smell it.
It was reminiscent of a slice of fruit on a hot summer's day.
"My room," Draco said, absentmindedly as he reached into his pocket.
"This is your room," Penny repeated, looking to her left and spotting another door that seemed to lead to his bedchamber.
"Yes, I'm rich, I know," Draco said dismissively. "Now come here, we don't have much time. Your absence won't go unnoticed," he went on, turning something in his hand several times.
"What's that?" Penny said, moving across the room to join her friend.
"My birthday present to you," said Draco, taking her hand when she came into range.
"Is that the time turner Rufus Scrimgeour brought me?" Penny said, her eyes finding the small, twirling object. "How'd you get it?"
"I swiped it off Snape," he replied, not sounding the least bit apologetic.
"Hang on, you've turned it. Draco—" Penny tried to protest, tugging at her arm, but Draco hung on, the world around them dropping out beneath them.
The feeling of plunging through icy-water washed over Penny, who was only vaguely aware of Draco swirling around beside her. Cursing his name as she flailed around, she was all too happy when she landed hard on her bum.
"A quidditch star who can't even land on her feet, honestly, Penny," Draco sighed, dragging her to her feet.
"I just got kidnapped, no, timenapped, so I'll land however I please," Penny huffed at him.
"Alright, it was underhanded," Draco conceded, pressing an impatient finger to her lips when she went to protest, "but necessary," he added.
"How do you figure, and where the bloody hell have you taken us?" Penny said, taking a good look around.
"Because tonight was fucked up, even for the Dark Lord's standards—and I just wanted you to remember who you are, I brought you here," he said, the hand falling away from Penny's mouth as he watched her eyes furrow and then widen.
"What year is it?" Penny said, almost afraid to know the answer.
Draco didn't respond, so Penny rounded on him.
"What year, Draco."
"1977."
Turning back to look at Hogwarts, the sun falling over the grass and making the windows shimmer like some kind of gem, Penny found herself unable to breathe.
"Of course you can't go in looking like that, " Draco said, flicking his wand and turning Penny's dress into a skirt and sweater before flicking it again at her hair.
Grabbing a lock between two fingers, she found it as golden as an autumn day.
And then he was pulling her across that lawn she'd crossed so many times, a path she could make with her eyes closed.
"Draco," Penny protested weakly, unable to find the words to convey the mixtures of emotions she was feeling. "I can't—"
"Too bad because we're already here."
"You don't understand. I can't do it, not after tonight."
"What exactly do you think you have to do? No one is asking anything of you but to have a single enjoyable day of your life."
"I can't face my dad—"
"Oi, you lot, hang on," a familiar voice called, cutting Penny off and sending her heart plummeting through the pit of her stomach.
It was the voice that haunted her dreams and Penny had spent the better part of the last year begging the universe to let her hear just one more time.
Turning, because she could never deny him anything, no matter how it broke her heart to look upon him, Penny looked into the handsome features of Sirius Black.
Even the pictures she'd seen of him during this time of his life could not do him justice. The boy before her was glowing with a radiance and beauty Penny had never seen on anyone else before.
Even furrowed suspiciously, Sirius' eyes held an amusement to them that made Penny feel immediately at ease. Here was a boy that had never worried about a thing in his life.
"Sirius, you can't just holler at whoever you want, you're not a prefect," said a second, more paternal voice and Penny's eyes reluctantly left Sirius' face and found Remus Lupin frowning at his friend.
Skinnier, hair shorter and less streaked with grey than his adult self, Penny could not help but smile at the way his face lit up when Sirius rounded on him and said, "Someone's gotta do your job for you, Moony." It was unmistakable, nothing made Remus happier than hearing Sirius say his name.
"Don't mind them, they were raised by animals who have no manners," interjected a third voice, the one that would be the undoing of Penny. "Though, I must admit, I can't say I know either of you, and I know everyone here, care to introduce yourselves."
Breath caught in her chest, green eyes found the features that were so like her brother's, except the eyes. James had hazel eyes.
Draco, seeing the way Penny froze up, made to step forward, but his movement was all she needed to find her voice.
"We're exchange students from France," Penny started, having no idea what she was saying because she was completely mesmerized by the teenage boy giving her his utmost attention. "I'm Claire Beauchamp, and this is my brother, Jamie."
A wide grin spreading across his mouth at these words, the beautiful boy offered her his hand.
"James, James Potter."
And Penny reached, her hand doing what she never imagined it could, and held the calloused one of her father.
