WIP amnesty day
I'm reluctant to declare any of my WsIP dead. I still want to finish That Afterlife Thing, I've actually started working again on the Millicent/Luna (thanks for reminding me of it, bowdlerized), and the time-travel thing and the newspaper thing aren't actually even "in progress" yet other than in my head.
But I have to admit that I'm unlikely to finish the Hermione/Penelope. I started it before OotP, but the relationship between Percy and the rest of his family as illuminated in that book put the kibosh on this story, because it depends on blood being thicker than water - on the Weasleys standing by Percy no matter what - and I couldn't see how to make that work with the strained relationship among the Weasleys in OotP.
So. About 2 and a half scenes, about 2200 words, Hermione/Penelope, PG so far. The working title was "Comfort." Penelope comes running to Hermione in tears after Percy has apparently joined Voldemort's side. Pointer also posted to wip_amnesty.
The knock on the door startled Hermione; Ron wasn't supposed to be there for another twenty minutes, which meant that she didn't expect him for at least an hour. Grumbling as she put down the book she'd been absorbed in -- a fascinating account of 19th century mediwizardry -- she headed to the door.
"What a surprise," she began, and then she stopped. It certainly was a surprise. It wasn't Ron at all. She opened the door a little wider. "Come in, Penelope. Are you all right?"
Penelope clearly wasn't all right; her face was streaked with tears and her hair was a mess, and she carried an awkwardly large shoulder-bag with great care. As if it might have all her possessions in it, suitably shrunken. She made no move to enter, but her eyes darted around the room. "Hermione. Ron?"
"Ron's not here," she said gently, and something in Penelope's face relaxed.
"Come in," repeated Hermione, and this time Penelope nodded and entered, making straight for the sofa. She put her bag down and collapsed into the cushions. Crookshanks mewled and rubbed against her ankles.
"Oh, God, Hermione. You've got to help me. You can't tell Ron."
"Tell Ron what?"
"That I'm here, that -- oh, God, Hermione, it's too awful." She looked as though she were about to burst into fresh tears, and Hermione discreetly pushed a box of tissues toward her. It was strange and discomfiting to see Penelope so distraught, Penelope who was always so calm and logical. Even when they'd both been trapped by the basilisk, in her second year at Hogwarts, Penelope had been as cool as could be, pulling out her make-up mirror so they could peek around the corner.
"Do you need a drink? Water, tea, whisky?"
"No, no. I just need -- I need you to hide me. From Percy. From everybody."
From Percy! And they'd been married for less than a year. Hermione looked appraisingly at Penelope. She hadn't been beaten, or if she had it wasn't such that the marks would show. No bruises or black eyes, no bandages. "Is he," she said carefully, "abusing you?"
Penelope looked up, met her eyes. "It's worse than that, much worse. He's gone over to, to, You-know-who. He's joined them."
Ridiculous, thought Hermione, but she wasn't going to say that. Not with Penelope in such a state. "How do you know?"
"Because they tried to get me to join, too. And if I don't, they'll kill me."
"They?"
"The Death Eaters. Percy's associates. He's been passing them information for -- I don't know, for months. From the Ministry."
Hermione pursed her lips, thinking. Ron had mentioned that Moody thought there was a leak. But Percy? Straight-laced, buttoned-down Percy? Besides, his clerk's job at the Ministry hardly had him privy to anything valuable to Voldemort.
"Please, please let me stay here. I'll be no trouble, I promise." The tears were beginning to collect at the corners of Penelope's eyes again, and Hermione felt a bit at a loss. What was she supposed to do? It wasn't as though they were the best of friends; they socialized a bit, since they were all but sisters-in-law, and they got on fairly well, but if she were in trouble, Hermione thought, it wouldn't be Penelope she'd go to.
So that was the first thing to figure out. "Why me?"
"Because I knew how to find your flat, and because you're Harry Potter's best friend. And Harry's the only person I can be absolutely sure of."
"It can't be that bad."
"That's what you think," said Penelope, her voice suddenly hard and venomous; Hermione saw a flash of the girl who had faced the basilisk. Then there was another knock at the door, and that cool façade vanished. "Oh God. Is that Ron?" Hermione nodded, and Penelope jumped up, grabbing her bag. "You've got to hide me. You can't tell him I'm here." Her eyes darted desperately about the small flat.
"If you can trust me, Penelope, you can trust him. He's Harry's best friend, too."
"He's a Weasley first," said Penelope, as the knock sounded again. "Oh, God, Hermione, please?"
She made her decision in an instant, pushing Penelope into her bedroom and closing the door firmly. At the front door, she smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I was being sick."
"What? Oh, no." He slumped into the couch, in the same spot Penelope had sat. She wondered if he could tell that someone had been sitting there moments before, from the shape of the cushions or the residual heat. "I've had a rotten day. And Mum called at work and said that Penelope's gone missing. Percy's frantic with worry. He thinks she's been kidnapped."
"Oh…that's awful," she said, faintly.
"Why don't you get on the Floo network, anyway? You're too hard to get hold of. And you could have let me know you're ill. Although whatever it is, I've probably got it already."
"I don't think menstrual cramps are contagious. But I expect I won't be good company tonight. Honestly, I'd just as soon lie in bed and read."
"Well, I wasn't going to stay, anyway. I've got to help Percy look for his lost wife. Although if I'd lost her, I think I'd let her stay missing."
"Ron!" Hermione was acutely aware of the woman in the next room. Could she hear them? Not that it was any great surprise that Ron didn't care for Penelope much; he thought her too stiff and serious, a perfect match for Percy, of course, but he wasn't all that fond of Percy either. Or so it always had seemed.
"No, you're right. He loves her, so I'd better go help him find her."
"Awfully nice of you, considering that you're not especially close to Percy."
He looked at her, surprised. "Don't be thick. He's family."
Penelope's words echoed in her ear. "He's a Weasley first," she had said, and it looked as though she was right.
"Maybe she had a perfectly good reason for leaving him," she blurted out.
"She just married him, Hermione." He gave her a look that said, you stay out of my family's business. You're not family yet. Right. She sighed and stood up.
"All right, then. Good luck." She walked him to the door, kissed him, and sent him on his way.
"He's gone," Hermione announced, opening the bedroom door.
After a moment Penelope stepped out of the closet and gave her a shaky smile. "I was figuring if he came back here into your room I'd just Apparate to France."
"Why didn't you do that in the first place?" asked Hermione, sitting on the bed and motioning for Penelope to join her.
"I don't know anybody there. I only know the coordinates of the place Percy and I went for…" Her face started to quiver again.
"It's all right, it's all right." Hermione put her arms awkwardly around the other woman and let her rest her head on her shoulder. She'd cried her own eyes out on Ron's shoulder, and on Harry's, but never had anyone turn to her before. It was strange being the strong one, the comforter rather than the one being comforted. Strange, but empowering; it made her feel as though she could take on anything. Bring it on, Voldie, she thought.
After a time Penelope's dry sobs subsided and her body stilled. Hermione gave her shoulders a final squeeze, then stood. "I'll just make us tea, shall I? And you can tell me all about it."
Penelope followed her out to the sitting room and accepted a cup of chamomile tea. They sat in silence for a while, savoring the taste and the warmth and each others presence. Finally, Penelope spoke, not looking at Hermione.
"It started three years ago. After the -- thing -- with Mr. Crouch. Percy was none too pleased that he didn't get promoted into his position. His new boss was even worse than Mr. Crouch about taking Percy's work for his own, and Percy was always grumbling about it. He was always complaining that he didn't like the way the Ministry was run; things were too lax, he said, with rules being broken all the time. You know how he is about rules," she added, with a wry smile.
Oh yes, she knew. He was worse than Professor Snape, Hermione had always thought -- even Snape wouldn't take points away from his own House, but when Percy had been a prefect, none of the Gryffindors dared step out of line.
"Well, he fell in with some friends. At least, he said they were friends." Penelope's face darkened. "Stayed out till all hours with them, sometimes. I was worried for a while he'd taken a lover."
Hermione had to smile at the thought. Straight-laced Percy. Then again, it sounded as though the truth was even stranger. "How do you know it was Vol -- the Death Eaters?"
A grim smile. "He couldn't hide the tattoo."
"They gave him the Dark Mark?"
She nodded. "I don't know when. I don't think it's visible all the time, because his arm looked perfectly ordinary until -- well, they called him, and I could see this thing on his skin going all dark. The skull and snake." She shuddered, and fresh tears began welling up. "This evening. When he Disapparated to -- I don't know where, wherever they were meeting, I guess -- I came here. I didn't want to be there when he got home. He knows I saw it. They'll kill me, Hermione, I know it!"
Oh, Penelope, she thought. Oh, Percy. The Weasleys are going to be devastated. She crossed to the couch, put her arms around Penelope again. "You can stay here. I'll find out what I can."
Penelope buried her face in her hair, and Hermione felt that frisson of empowerment again as she stroked the dark curls. I'm the strong one here, she thought. Not Ron. Not Harry. Me. She waited until Penelope pulled away before speaking. "We'll just get you set up on the couch, here. Did you bring anything with you?"
"Some things from home, yes." She fumbled around in her bag and pulled out a handful of things which, when tapped with her wand, turned out to be a toiletries kit, a striped sleepshirt, and a somewhat scruffy-looking teddy bear with a blue and silver ribbon around its neck. She saw Hermione's look, and smiled. "My parents gave it to me when I first came to Hogwarts. His name is Duffy. I haven't slept a single night without him since."
"Very cute," said Hermione. "Isn't Percy jealous?"
"He teases me about it all the time," said Penelope, rolling her eyes. "I always tell him Duffy was there first."
Hermione laughed. "Well, I'll see if I can find some sheets and a spare pillow for you." When she came back from the linen closet, Penelope had already taken her clothes off and was pulling on the sleepshirt. Hermione caught a glimpse of a taut stomach and razor-sharp hipbones before the striped material covered them. She couldn't suppress a flash of envy; she had her mother's wide hips, and although she knew she wasn't really overweight she had always wished for a more slender shape. Ron always scoffed when she blushed over her figure -- "You're a girl, Hermione. Girls are supposed to be curvy" -- but she couldn't help admiring Penelope's body.
"Here you go," she said, placing the sheets and pillow on the couch. "Sleep well."
"Thanks so much, Hermione." The look in Penelope's eyes, warm and trusting, stayed with her as she went to her room. Like the look Crookshanks gave her sometimes, when he curled up in her lap or at her feet.
Penelope had already risen and was making toast when Hermione came out of her room. "Don't you have any coffee?"
"I try to avoid caffeine. There's some herbal tea in the cabinet on the left, though."
"Good God, this looks like Snape's ingredients shelf," said Penelope, as she opened the cabinet and selected one of the tisanes. "Want me to make you a cup?"
"No, thanks. I've got to run to work."
"You're at St. Mungo's, right?"
"Yes, still training. I won't be a fully qualified mediwitch for three years, but it's fascinating work. And I'm thinking of going to medical school after -- Muggle medical school, I mean. There's so much to learn!"
Penelope laughed. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel like I never got out of school."
"Oh! What are you going to do about your job?"
"I wrote a note to Dexter Potts -- he's my supervisor at the Archives. Can you owl it for me? Anonymously?"
Hermione took the small piece of parchment in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. "I'll use a public owl from Diagon Alley. And I'll see if I can get any more information. You just lay low and keep Crookshanks company, all right?"
"Of course." Penelope gave her a hug, and she headed out. That was the nice thing about living in London, everything was close by. She still preferred Muggle transportation to Floo, although she'd Apparate if she had to go any distance. It was only four blocks to the Leaky Cauldron, where she entered Diagon Alley and sent off Penelope's note; from there it was just as easy to use the magical byways that led to where St. Mungo's was concealed in the heart of the Muggle Hospital district.
She was kept busy on rounds as a matter of course, but in early afternoon she managed to get to a fireplace and call Ron. "Sorry about last night. Any word on Penelope?"
"Still missing." Ron's face, floating in the flames, looked grim. "Percy's beside himself. He didn't even come in today."
But I have to admit that I'm unlikely to finish the Hermione/Penelope. I started it before OotP, but the relationship between Percy and the rest of his family as illuminated in that book put the kibosh on this story, because it depends on blood being thicker than water - on the Weasleys standing by Percy no matter what - and I couldn't see how to make that work with the strained relationship among the Weasleys in OotP.
So. About 2 and a half scenes, about 2200 words, Hermione/Penelope, PG so far. The working title was "Comfort." Penelope comes running to Hermione in tears after Percy has apparently joined Voldemort's side. Pointer also posted to wip_amnesty.
The knock on the door startled Hermione; Ron wasn't supposed to be there for another twenty minutes, which meant that she didn't expect him for at least an hour. Grumbling as she put down the book she'd been absorbed in -- a fascinating account of 19th century mediwizardry -- she headed to the door.
"What a surprise," she began, and then she stopped. It certainly was a surprise. It wasn't Ron at all. She opened the door a little wider. "Come in, Penelope. Are you all right?"
Penelope clearly wasn't all right; her face was streaked with tears and her hair was a mess, and she carried an awkwardly large shoulder-bag with great care. As if it might have all her possessions in it, suitably shrunken. She made no move to enter, but her eyes darted around the room. "Hermione. Ron?"
"Ron's not here," she said gently, and something in Penelope's face relaxed.
"Come in," repeated Hermione, and this time Penelope nodded and entered, making straight for the sofa. She put her bag down and collapsed into the cushions. Crookshanks mewled and rubbed against her ankles.
"Oh, God, Hermione. You've got to help me. You can't tell Ron."
"Tell Ron what?"
"That I'm here, that -- oh, God, Hermione, it's too awful." She looked as though she were about to burst into fresh tears, and Hermione discreetly pushed a box of tissues toward her. It was strange and discomfiting to see Penelope so distraught, Penelope who was always so calm and logical. Even when they'd both been trapped by the basilisk, in her second year at Hogwarts, Penelope had been as cool as could be, pulling out her make-up mirror so they could peek around the corner.
"Do you need a drink? Water, tea, whisky?"
"No, no. I just need -- I need you to hide me. From Percy. From everybody."
From Percy! And they'd been married for less than a year. Hermione looked appraisingly at Penelope. She hadn't been beaten, or if she had it wasn't such that the marks would show. No bruises or black eyes, no bandages. "Is he," she said carefully, "abusing you?"
Penelope looked up, met her eyes. "It's worse than that, much worse. He's gone over to, to, You-know-who. He's joined them."
Ridiculous, thought Hermione, but she wasn't going to say that. Not with Penelope in such a state. "How do you know?"
"Because they tried to get me to join, too. And if I don't, they'll kill me."
"They?"
"The Death Eaters. Percy's associates. He's been passing them information for -- I don't know, for months. From the Ministry."
Hermione pursed her lips, thinking. Ron had mentioned that Moody thought there was a leak. But Percy? Straight-laced, buttoned-down Percy? Besides, his clerk's job at the Ministry hardly had him privy to anything valuable to Voldemort.
"Please, please let me stay here. I'll be no trouble, I promise." The tears were beginning to collect at the corners of Penelope's eyes again, and Hermione felt a bit at a loss. What was she supposed to do? It wasn't as though they were the best of friends; they socialized a bit, since they were all but sisters-in-law, and they got on fairly well, but if she were in trouble, Hermione thought, it wouldn't be Penelope she'd go to.
So that was the first thing to figure out. "Why me?"
"Because I knew how to find your flat, and because you're Harry Potter's best friend. And Harry's the only person I can be absolutely sure of."
"It can't be that bad."
"That's what you think," said Penelope, her voice suddenly hard and venomous; Hermione saw a flash of the girl who had faced the basilisk. Then there was another knock at the door, and that cool façade vanished. "Oh God. Is that Ron?" Hermione nodded, and Penelope jumped up, grabbing her bag. "You've got to hide me. You can't tell him I'm here." Her eyes darted desperately about the small flat.
"If you can trust me, Penelope, you can trust him. He's Harry's best friend, too."
"He's a Weasley first," said Penelope, as the knock sounded again. "Oh, God, Hermione, please?"
She made her decision in an instant, pushing Penelope into her bedroom and closing the door firmly. At the front door, she smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I was being sick."
"What? Oh, no." He slumped into the couch, in the same spot Penelope had sat. She wondered if he could tell that someone had been sitting there moments before, from the shape of the cushions or the residual heat. "I've had a rotten day. And Mum called at work and said that Penelope's gone missing. Percy's frantic with worry. He thinks she's been kidnapped."
"Oh…that's awful," she said, faintly.
"Why don't you get on the Floo network, anyway? You're too hard to get hold of. And you could have let me know you're ill. Although whatever it is, I've probably got it already."
"I don't think menstrual cramps are contagious. But I expect I won't be good company tonight. Honestly, I'd just as soon lie in bed and read."
"Well, I wasn't going to stay, anyway. I've got to help Percy look for his lost wife. Although if I'd lost her, I think I'd let her stay missing."
"Ron!" Hermione was acutely aware of the woman in the next room. Could she hear them? Not that it was any great surprise that Ron didn't care for Penelope much; he thought her too stiff and serious, a perfect match for Percy, of course, but he wasn't all that fond of Percy either. Or so it always had seemed.
"No, you're right. He loves her, so I'd better go help him find her."
"Awfully nice of you, considering that you're not especially close to Percy."
He looked at her, surprised. "Don't be thick. He's family."
Penelope's words echoed in her ear. "He's a Weasley first," she had said, and it looked as though she was right.
"Maybe she had a perfectly good reason for leaving him," she blurted out.
"She just married him, Hermione." He gave her a look that said, you stay out of my family's business. You're not family yet. Right. She sighed and stood up.
"All right, then. Good luck." She walked him to the door, kissed him, and sent him on his way.
"He's gone," Hermione announced, opening the bedroom door.
After a moment Penelope stepped out of the closet and gave her a shaky smile. "I was figuring if he came back here into your room I'd just Apparate to France."
"Why didn't you do that in the first place?" asked Hermione, sitting on the bed and motioning for Penelope to join her.
"I don't know anybody there. I only know the coordinates of the place Percy and I went for…" Her face started to quiver again.
"It's all right, it's all right." Hermione put her arms awkwardly around the other woman and let her rest her head on her shoulder. She'd cried her own eyes out on Ron's shoulder, and on Harry's, but never had anyone turn to her before. It was strange being the strong one, the comforter rather than the one being comforted. Strange, but empowering; it made her feel as though she could take on anything. Bring it on, Voldie, she thought.
After a time Penelope's dry sobs subsided and her body stilled. Hermione gave her shoulders a final squeeze, then stood. "I'll just make us tea, shall I? And you can tell me all about it."
Penelope followed her out to the sitting room and accepted a cup of chamomile tea. They sat in silence for a while, savoring the taste and the warmth and each others presence. Finally, Penelope spoke, not looking at Hermione.
"It started three years ago. After the -- thing -- with Mr. Crouch. Percy was none too pleased that he didn't get promoted into his position. His new boss was even worse than Mr. Crouch about taking Percy's work for his own, and Percy was always grumbling about it. He was always complaining that he didn't like the way the Ministry was run; things were too lax, he said, with rules being broken all the time. You know how he is about rules," she added, with a wry smile.
Oh yes, she knew. He was worse than Professor Snape, Hermione had always thought -- even Snape wouldn't take points away from his own House, but when Percy had been a prefect, none of the Gryffindors dared step out of line.
"Well, he fell in with some friends. At least, he said they were friends." Penelope's face darkened. "Stayed out till all hours with them, sometimes. I was worried for a while he'd taken a lover."
Hermione had to smile at the thought. Straight-laced Percy. Then again, it sounded as though the truth was even stranger. "How do you know it was Vol -- the Death Eaters?"
A grim smile. "He couldn't hide the tattoo."
"They gave him the Dark Mark?"
She nodded. "I don't know when. I don't think it's visible all the time, because his arm looked perfectly ordinary until -- well, they called him, and I could see this thing on his skin going all dark. The skull and snake." She shuddered, and fresh tears began welling up. "This evening. When he Disapparated to -- I don't know where, wherever they were meeting, I guess -- I came here. I didn't want to be there when he got home. He knows I saw it. They'll kill me, Hermione, I know it!"
Oh, Penelope, she thought. Oh, Percy. The Weasleys are going to be devastated. She crossed to the couch, put her arms around Penelope again. "You can stay here. I'll find out what I can."
Penelope buried her face in her hair, and Hermione felt that frisson of empowerment again as she stroked the dark curls. I'm the strong one here, she thought. Not Ron. Not Harry. Me. She waited until Penelope pulled away before speaking. "We'll just get you set up on the couch, here. Did you bring anything with you?"
"Some things from home, yes." She fumbled around in her bag and pulled out a handful of things which, when tapped with her wand, turned out to be a toiletries kit, a striped sleepshirt, and a somewhat scruffy-looking teddy bear with a blue and silver ribbon around its neck. She saw Hermione's look, and smiled. "My parents gave it to me when I first came to Hogwarts. His name is Duffy. I haven't slept a single night without him since."
"Very cute," said Hermione. "Isn't Percy jealous?"
"He teases me about it all the time," said Penelope, rolling her eyes. "I always tell him Duffy was there first."
Hermione laughed. "Well, I'll see if I can find some sheets and a spare pillow for you." When she came back from the linen closet, Penelope had already taken her clothes off and was pulling on the sleepshirt. Hermione caught a glimpse of a taut stomach and razor-sharp hipbones before the striped material covered them. She couldn't suppress a flash of envy; she had her mother's wide hips, and although she knew she wasn't really overweight she had always wished for a more slender shape. Ron always scoffed when she blushed over her figure -- "You're a girl, Hermione. Girls are supposed to be curvy" -- but she couldn't help admiring Penelope's body.
"Here you go," she said, placing the sheets and pillow on the couch. "Sleep well."
"Thanks so much, Hermione." The look in Penelope's eyes, warm and trusting, stayed with her as she went to her room. Like the look Crookshanks gave her sometimes, when he curled up in her lap or at her feet.
Penelope had already risen and was making toast when Hermione came out of her room. "Don't you have any coffee?"
"I try to avoid caffeine. There's some herbal tea in the cabinet on the left, though."
"Good God, this looks like Snape's ingredients shelf," said Penelope, as she opened the cabinet and selected one of the tisanes. "Want me to make you a cup?"
"No, thanks. I've got to run to work."
"You're at St. Mungo's, right?"
"Yes, still training. I won't be a fully qualified mediwitch for three years, but it's fascinating work. And I'm thinking of going to medical school after -- Muggle medical school, I mean. There's so much to learn!"
Penelope laughed. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel like I never got out of school."
"Oh! What are you going to do about your job?"
"I wrote a note to Dexter Potts -- he's my supervisor at the Archives. Can you owl it for me? Anonymously?"
Hermione took the small piece of parchment in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. "I'll use a public owl from Diagon Alley. And I'll see if I can get any more information. You just lay low and keep Crookshanks company, all right?"
"Of course." Penelope gave her a hug, and she headed out. That was the nice thing about living in London, everything was close by. She still preferred Muggle transportation to Floo, although she'd Apparate if she had to go any distance. It was only four blocks to the Leaky Cauldron, where she entered Diagon Alley and sent off Penelope's note; from there it was just as easy to use the magical byways that led to where St. Mungo's was concealed in the heart of the Muggle Hospital district.
She was kept busy on rounds as a matter of course, but in early afternoon she managed to get to a fireplace and call Ron. "Sorry about last night. Any word on Penelope?"
"Still missing." Ron's face, floating in the flames, looked grim. "Percy's beside himself. He didn't even come in today."