Chapter Text
It had been 12 days since she had heard from the first man she had ever loved.
With letters on her mind, Penelope did her best to ignore the owls screeching overhead in the Great Hall. It was Saturday and the mail always came in spurts—a few owls here and there dropping notes and packages to the students while they prepared for their weekend.
She wanted a letter so desperately she had visited the owlry twice a day for a week in hopes one came between delivery times. At this point, her friends stopped asking where she was going and had started to give her their own letters to send out with their own owls.
September 25, 1994
Penny,This week the minister has asked me in on every meeting he has had. I was even able to meet and converse with the Muggle Prime Minister. It was important to the minister to discuss the current climate here, but I cannot disclose anymore. I am sure you will read about it in the prophet soon.
I know that we arranged to meet in Hogsmeade for the first visiting weekend, but something has arisen and the minister needs my attention. Know I am deeply sorry, but I hope that weekend offers you a sweet reprieve from your NEWT studies.
In regards for your request of NEWT question suggestions, I have decided that it is unfair for me to offer you any sort of question guidance as that is unfair for other students who are not involved with someone who has already taken the examination. It is important that it reflects what you’re capable of and not the tutelage I can offer. I hope you understand, Penny.
How are you?
Affectionately,
Percy Weasley, Personal assistant to Barty Crouch Snr.
After that, all she could muster up after that was a long cry and four drafts. Eventually, she sent one that she scribbled on the back of her first draft of her Transfiguration essay on how to best heal wounds that happened due to incorrect technique.
September 27, 1995
Percy,
I’ve been well, thanks for asking. I have been holed up in my library corner, you know the one. It’s lonely without the scratching of your quill. I know I used to hate it, but I guess you never know what you’ve missed until it’s not there all the time.
I hope your meetings are going well. They don’t sound like much fun to me, but you know how I am—I’d much rather be writing something interesting or watching the quidditch matches.Roger made captain and Cho is seeker, so it’ll be a good season.
I don’t need help on my NEWTs, I was just asking for more questions that would make me think. I’ll just have daddy send one of the books they sell in London. It’s not a big deal.
I’m sorry you can’t come into the village. I’ve decided to do castle duty anyway—Head Girl has to be an example, right? That’s what you’ve always said!
Love you. I can’t wait until Christmas. Your mother has asked me to come visit over Holiday. What do you think?
Give Winston a treat, please! He’s been extra patient with me!
Love,
Penelope
This letter was impossible to write. She was up late and forgot to write an entire Muggle Studies assignment because she was engrossed in making sure her every word felt right.
He probably didn’t do that.
Writing to Percy used to be so easy. Hell, talking to Percy used to be so easy, but after everything that happened last year, and how angry he was with his family, she really wasn’t sure what she was supposed to talk about with him.
The last time she saw Percy was in August, the week she spent with him in Diagon Alley before she boarded the train at King’s Cross, and even then all they did was argue about everything. They wanted some time together before she had to be off at school, and neither of them wanted to be with their parents, so they both rented out a room and spent their days together.
It didn’t go terribly—they had a lovely time. Well, except that he nitpicked that she didn’t rinse out her teacup right away, about the skirt she left on the floor after her shower, and the way she turned the pages of her book. In retort she snapped about how his quill scratched on the papers, the way he muttered around when he read to himself, and the fact that he only tried to kiss her when she was talking.
With that on her mind, and with how deeply she missed Saturday breakfast with him, it took every muscle in Penelope Clearwater’s body not to instantly look up to look for Winston’s wide wingspan above her. She’s sent him out to London three days ago with a letter to Percy, telling him all about her classes and the quidditch games she had been to. Honestly, the letter she sent on her Blakiston fish owl wasn’t the first one she’d written. It was the fourth.
Penelope buried her face in her book, which was typical of a Ravenclaw in their NEWT year, hoping no one would notice the way she was trying to choke back the fear that he hadn’t responded again.
Her focus was diverted when Penelope felt a body jostle into the space next to her.
“Your tea is going to get cold,” Cho Chang voiced, elbowing Penelope in the ribs. Cho tapped the rim of the cup and Penelope glanced up just in time to see the tea heat up a little.
“You’re a sixth year, you shouldn’t be doing wordless spells yet,” Marietta commented as she sat across from them.
Penelope sighed and gave up all hope of trying to pretend to focus on anything. A letter dropped in front of Luna Lovegood and she began to hum something to herself. Penelope didn’t recognize the song. No one stopped to ask Luna what she was singing to herself, but she didn’t stay long enough for it to become annoying. Actually, she stood up and skipped over to the Gryffindor table with her small package and dropped something small on Ginny Weasley’s plate.
Penelope turned her attention back to her friends, noting that while she was distracted both Marcus Belby, Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein, and Roger Davies had joined them—their group was complete now.
“You better watch doing magic in the great hall at all, Chang. If you set something on fire the Head Girl will have to give you detention,” Roger said. “Trust me, she has no loyalty. I’ve already gotten two this year for being out past curfew.”
“Then don’t be out past curfew, Davies,” a slow, cool voice echoed. The looked up and watched as Professor Snape walked by. “And then maybe you’d be actually be adequate at potions.”
The group of friends giggled, and Padma even snorted at the comment.
Roger ducked his face down and reached across the table and grabbing the saucer of milk to put in his tea. His elbow bumped Penelope and a splash of the tea in her hand spilled onto her plate.
“Honestly, Davies, you may as well just eat a spoonful of sugar,” Penelope commented as she watched him prepare his tea with milk and four spoons of sweetener. “It’s nauseating to watch.”
“Well, then don’t watch Nellie,” Roger teased, crinkling his nose and taking a bite of toast. He spoke with the bread in his mouth, which just made him sound muffled. “But my tea is sweet, like me.”
“That’s debatable,” Padma noted, rolling her eyes. “Maybe it’s just watered down and bland.”
Cho and Marietta covered their mouths, and Anthony and Marcus whooped at her comment. Penelope caught the small snarl in her Padma’s lip, which would have been directly connected to the fact that Roger and Parvati recently ended their two month summer romance while he was wandering the castle. Roger told Penelope that he decided he wanted to be single and ready to mingle for seventh year, but Parvati interpreted that as I heard the Beaubaxton girls are coming and I want to be available for them. Penelope was nearly certain he only ended it because Bradley liked Parvati, but no one could really be certain because Padma was always around and it was a sore subject, and rightfully so. Penelope did notice that Parvati seemed to be doing better, though that wasn’t easy to tell either because the only person Parvati would talk to was Padma and Lavender Brown.
Roger jumped back in, ignoring Padma’s tone.
“Chang, you coming to study group after practice?”
“Studying on a Hogsmeade weekend?” Marietta asked. “Thought you were gonna go try and get Cedric to talk to you.”
“The Hufflepuff?” Anthony asked, pursing his lips a little. “Isn’t he a little old for you?”
Cho blushed and shook her head, glancing over her shoulder at the Hufflepuff table. Penelope also noticed that Marietta was reaching with her non-dominant hand to spoon eggs onto her plate while the other was under the table, probably holding Marcus’ hand.
“So, anyone gonna be going into the village today? I need to get snacks for the quidditch matches and I need people to help lug it back for me,” Marcus complained. “Anthony and Retta can’t be the only two coming to help me!”
“You’re a literal wizard,” Cho scoffed. “Just take a bag. And get me some chocolate frogs.”
“Only frogs for people who tell me I am amazing,” Marcus teased. “And maybe a kiss on the cheek.”
Marietta quickly kissed his cheek, bringing a groan from a couple of first years.
“Chocolate frogs for me!” She dotes.
Anthony shook his head and looked over at Penelope who was pushing her eggs around her plate with a fork.
“Penelope, what about you? You going in to meet Weasley today?” Anthony asked, adjusting his dark blue Kippah. “We’re all gonna go out if you’re not. They’ve got some Halloween treats at the Hog’s Head!”
“Sorry, Tony. I’d love to, but I’m on duty,” Penelope lied. “I had a prefect back out of Saturday afternoon patrol, so I volunteered like a good Head Girl. It’ll be a good excuse to get some wandless magic practice in anyway.”
A letter dropped on the plate in front of Cho and she picked it up, turning it over and opening the seal.
“Was that your choice or you just bailing because he bailed?” Padma asked. “Because that’s rubbish if you’re letting—”
“Penelope Clearwater,” Roger said, feigning surprise and interrupting Marietta’s cold truth. She was the least tactful of all their friends. “You’re passing on an opportunity to spend time with your best friends, with me. For what? Work?”
“For my responsibilities,” Penelope snapped, dropping her fork and rolling her eyes. She stood quickly, feeling a deep rooted anger bellow up into the depths of her stomach. She wasn’t sure why she was so angry at Roger for suggesting she do what they had done every Hogsmeade trip since third year, but she wanted to smack him.
Her leg lifted from between the bench and table, but her foot caught on Cho’s bag and she felt herself start to fall. A hand grabbed her elbow to stop her fall. As soon as she steadied herself, Penelope pulled her arm away from Roger.
“Dude, you okay?” Marcus asked, shifting his eyes around the friend group and then back to Penelope. “What—”
Penelope didn’t even think about stormed out of the Great Hall, her shoulder ramming into Angelina Johnson as she passed.
“Damn, Clearwater,” she heard Fred Weasley call behind her. “Who shit in your tea this morning?”
The sound of George, Lee, and Angelina laughing followed her as she hurried out and past Harry Potter and his gaggle of idiots, Katie Bell and Cormac McLaggen bickering about quidditch, and professor Trelawney mumbling about something.
The rest of the walk to Ravenclaw Tower was a blur—so much so that she ignored two first years lost on the stairs and Theodore and Charlie Nott, the Slytherin cousins who were the biggest pain in her ass, who were charming a portrait to yodel profanities at Gryffindors in an American accent.
—
A few hours past and Roger wandered in wearing his stained training kit and a tattered scarf. He had just come from practice. Penelope’s nose was buried in her book; she paused every few minutes to scribble something in the margins.
The door closed and she looked up to see Roger carrying a letter. He stopped in front of her and held it out.
“This came like two seconds after you left,” he told her. She reached up and took it.
It was addressed to Care of: P. Clearwater.
“Nellie, can I be honest?” He asked her, leaning forward onto his broom. He didn’t really let her answer. While she opened the letter, he continued. “If I am snogging someone, spending nights in their bed, and proclaiming love for them, I’m not gonna address a letter Care of. I’d be using their whole ass name. If you’re being written Care Of, it’s bullshit and you’re worth more than that.”
His fingers ran over the twigs of his broom as she read, but she paused and glanced up at him. He was right, that was impersonal and Roger knew she was bothered by it. He’d known her for nearly seven years, of course he’d know what bothered her.
“You’re going to be late,” she told Roger, nodding him on. “I have duty in fifteen minutes and you smell like a rotting mandrake.”
He sniggered and rolled his eyes.
“M’kay, Nellie,” he said. Without another word, he left her there and hopped up to the boy’s dorm. Without shifting her eyes, she knew that he took the stairs two at a time.
While he was upstairs she read the whole letter.
Penny,
I knew you would understand how important work is. Maybe next time I can come. I’m still helping deal with the Cup mishaps, so we are so busy here. Busier than any studying ever had me.
I was unaware mum invited you over during the holiday. We can discuss it, but I will probably be helping to organize the top secret second task.
Can you make sure Ron gets his letter, too? I sent some news clippings about Viktor Krum. I know he likes the bloke.
The essay you sent that letter on could use some revisions. I sent some feedback and have attacked it on the second piece of parchment in the envelope. Be sure to look over the grammar, but look closer at the details of how to synthesize potions with transfiguration techniques. I have also included some references to books in the library for you to use.
Affectionately,
P. Weasley, Personal assistant to Barty Crouch Snr.
“I’m gonna have some lunch with Chester later, if you wanna come,” Roger said quietly. Despite how silent it was, she jumped. “I’ll even tell them I bullied Turner into taking back his shift—no one has to know he’s in the hospital wing on account of Malfoy and his goons.”
“I don’t need you to pity invite me to some brotherly date,” Penelope countered. “I’m not some damsel in need of emotional support. And I do have duty.”
“No you don’t. I ran into Bell on the way here. Spinnet has duty. You’re just choosing to be alone when your boyfriend is being a jackass. And that sucks.” Roger fiddled with the Ravenclaw jumper he brought down with him, quirking an eyebrow.
“Percy is not being a jack—”
“‘Care of’ says otherwise, Penelope. And the fact that Winston landed with three letters tied to him, one for you and Ron. That doesn’t—and—we can tell, you know? All of us. We see it.”
Penelope stayed quiet and picked at the pink polish that she’d put on her nails before. She remembered spending so much time making sure it was the perfect shade—she wanted it to match the pink jumper she’d brought to wear in for tea with Percy. This disappointment was hard to muster; Percy had spent the last two years planning elaborate dates, leaving her notes and letters, and just being there for those moments. It was only now that she was understanding what Marietta had jabbed at her for in regards to codependency.
This sucked. She had nothing more elaborate or eloquent to say about it. This simply sucked. Her lip quivered at the thought of Percy taking a less important role in her life, and she cleared her throat to push away those frustrations so she could ignore the tears welling up in her ducts.
Roger filled her silence after he put his broom against the wall and sat down next to her. He placed a kind hand on her knee and squeezed gently.
“How ‘bout we do something? Just you and me, like we used to do,” he suggested.
Roger Davies, the now breathtaking beautiful and a popular quidditch captain, had been her best friend since they sat together on the train their first year. They used to do homework under trees, go to matches, and just exist together. Honestly, he was the reason she had learned to love quidditch—the reason she was a Puddlemere United supporter, too. Roger made her a better person; he was a good human, and he was good for her.
And she was good for him. Roger would tease that it was because she had gotten him out of at least a dozen detentions a year, but really it was how she helped him learn to be a learner. She spent hours tutoring him in most literally everything because, while he was a Ravenclaw, academics didn’t come easily to him. In fact, he was someone who needed to read the book three or four times to fully understand the concept. He was a mediocre student, placing somewhere between the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins when averaging examination scores. It was his drive to learn, not his ability to do so simply, that Penelope had decided got him placed in Ravenclaw.
“You don’t need to waste your Saturday on me,” she denied. “You’re too busy right now, just go have tea with Chess."
“Is that’s what’s bothering you? Busy people? Chester mentioned that Percy’s been a little busy,” Roger added that last part quickly, like she had finally made an opening in conversation for him to say what he’d been thinking. “How busy has he been, Nellie?”
Penelope shrugged while she pulled her feet up into the couch and looked away from Roger, scoffing as though he was off on his analysis. Roger wasn’t book smart, but he was one of the most empathetic people she knew—and someone who could easily read one’s physiognomy.
“Penelope Charlotte Clearwater,” he added. “Don’t act like I’m wrong. How busy has that bean pole of a Weasley been?”
“That’s a good question,” she said simply, ignoring how rude he was two seconds ago. “I don’t know much. I just know he is busy.”
“Penelope—”
“I’m just being dramatic like Retta said in charms yesterday,” she interjected. “It’s a big adjustment, you know. Mum says it’s because we spent so much time together after I became a prefect. Rounds and studying…and everything else…”
She trailed off, refusing to look anywhere but at the window that looked out over the grounds. Her fingers played with the letter in her lap, tracing the seal of the envelope. There was no wax seal on this one—there was always a wax seal and a date. Percy must have sent it in a hurry.
“You know, it’s okay to miss him. It’s okay to know why it’s hard. It’s also okay to be pissed off that he’s being a twat. Letters don’t take that long, and you are allowed to feel however you’re feeling about him not writing to you.”
She nodded and closed the letter in her text book, leaving it flat on her lap.
“It was just easier before. Now…it’s all serious and…he mentioned marriage in London and I am not sure either of us are really ready for that conversation. I’m also just cooped up here and I keep feeling guilty. I want to be excited about the tournament and everything around it, but it feels like I shouldn’t be so—so hard. The last time it felt like us was the World Cup, and we all know how that ended. Maybe it was some omen—”
She trailed off and pushed her fringe back out of her eyes.
“Don’t go all Trelawney on me,” he teased. “Because if you’re gonna start seeing the grim, I’ll have to prepare myself ahead of time.”
“I just need to figure out how to make it work because we were so happy, I know that. We can be happy.”
“Here, lemme help,” Roger said, shifting and leaning across Penelope to a pile of parchment. Something told her that he was going to pull Therapist Roger out—that’s what they all called him when he started trying to fix all the problems.
He grabbed a quill and dipped it in ink, writing something carefully across the top. She wiped her eyes and looked at the ink swirls that spelled out Penelope’s Three Musts for Happiness. He handed her the parchment and the quill. “Give it a go. I won’t even look.”
For just a moment she stared at her friend and sighed, taking what he was offering.
“What am I supposed to put here?”
“Maybe just think about where you want to be come June? What are the must haves for the day we step out of this castle for the last time?” He asked her. “It’s like setting a goal, you know. So…What does Penelope Clearwater need to smile at least once a day for the rest of her life?”
“I dunno. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Liar. You’re the girl with the life plan and we all know it. You’ve had a plan since the day we got here. So think about it. Do you want a big flat in a city? A bougie job? Muggle university like your dad? Think! Here, I’ll do one too!”
He ripped a piece of the parchment she was holding and pulled a muggle pen from the cup on the table next to them—Anthony had insisted they have pens at least for convenience sake because quills are just so messy, guys.
“Okay,” Penelope stated once. Together, at one in the afternoon when all their friends were out getting drinks, Roger Davies and Penelope Clearwater made a simple list.
1. Tea that is always heated to the perfect temperature, even if Cho has to do it for me.
2. A quiet place to read a book with soft sounds and a constant smell of parchment paper and lavender. And those vine-y house plants that people name after philosophers.
3. Someone who understands relationships over success, whether that be a friend or a partner.
When she snuck a glance at Roger’s, all he had written was:
1. Live long enough to love being alive.