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Author: TheGov Story: Redefining Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 6 Words: 47,960
A/N: Not mine. Don’t sue. I love my wife. And cross your fingers. I’m waiting to hear back from the school I interviewed at! -- -- -- -- Penny knew that she couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to talk to someone. In the last 24 hours since her date, her mind had been churning, uncertain guilt eating away at her. Hermione was the only one she trusted to keep her confidence. Ginny was nice, and generally trustworthy, but in the spirit of sibling rivalry, she’d be hinting to Ron in a heartbeat, and Ron couldn’t keep a social secret to save his life. National secrets couldn’t be pried out of him with Cruciatus, she was sure, but affaires of the heart were open knowledge as soon as Ron found out. She wanted to avoid his finding out until it was absolutely necessary. But the next day was Harry’s birthday party, so a private heart to heart would have to wait until Sunday. She and Arthur went out Saturday morning to shop for a present for Unca Hawwy. Ginny had circulated a number of suggestions. Primarily, she recommended finding things he could use to decorate his new quarters at Hogwarts. Ginny had said he had no paintings, and Penny decided that she was going to find one for him, for after all, what was Hogwarts without paintings? Taking Arthur shopping for art was a challenge, for the paintings alternately bored or fascinated the child. She’d had a particularly hard time pulling him away from a portrait of an unknown old witch who had started up a conversation with him, and was chatting gaily on. In another store, he’d gotten quite cranky because the pictures were all too high to see, and he got fussy and bored. By lunchtime, Penny had found a pastoral landscape she thought Harry might like. He’d always enjoyed the openness of Hogwarts, and from what she understood and observed, he preferred the open air of the country. The painting paid for, and scheduled for delivery at the Burrow for mid-afternoon, Penny took Arthur home and put him down for a brief nap, during which time she did some well needed cleaning around the flat. When she was finished her cleaning, she headed over to the Burrow to help set up for Harry’s party. Ginny had really pulled out all the stops in getting everybody to come, and when Penny and Arthur arrived, Ginny, Molly and Hermione were all in the kitchen helping to prepare dinner. Molly was basting the meat, which appeared to be a large joint of beef, Hermione was mixing the vinaigrette for the potato salad and Ginny was frosting the largest cake she’d seen in quite some time. “That fit in the oven?” Penny asked. Shrinking Charms didn’t work well with food. “Hermione enlarged it,” Ginny said, blowing a stray hair out of her face. “Cake!” Arthur squealed, jumping up and down. “No, Arthur, not now. The cake is for Uncle Harry.” “Oh.” Arthur looked extremely disappointed. “Arthur, c’mere,” Ginny said. She put a dollop of frosting on her finger, and Arthur licked it off. Penny smiled and rolled her eye eyes good naturedly. “You’ll get some more later,” Penny added. This seemed to placate him. “Remus is in the sitting room, reading. I bet he’d love to see Arthur.” “Would you like to go play with Uncle Remus?” Penny asked. “Moony!” Arthur cheered. Penny sighed. She had tried to avoid Arthur picking up on that particular nickname. She’d never felt entirely comfortable with it, but Harry, Ron and the Twins used it all the time, so there was little avoiding Arthur’s exposure to it. Arthur scurried off into the sitting room, and in short order Penny heard Remus offering to teach him about chess. “Come help me with the vegetables,” Hermione offered, as she took out the lettuce for garden salad. “You can slice the tomatoes for me.” “All right,” Penny agreed, joining Hermione at her end of the table. “There’s going to be enough food here to feed a small army,” she said. “Of course,” Hermione answered, “It’s dinner at the Weasleys; a small army will be here. It’s a midsummer’s feast.” Hermione handed her a knife and pointed at the small pile of tomatoes. Penny rolled up her sleeves and began to slice them. “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” Penny asked casually. “Oh, I don’t have anything planned,” Hermione said. “Why?” “Because I thought you might like to come over for tea,” she said. “Sounds like a fine idea. Ron will be in the office, I’m sure, so is it all right if I bring Charlie?” she asked. “Of course!” Penny replied. “He’s always welcome.” “Good, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon then. Pass me that bowl of spinach, will you?” -- -- -- -- Charlie was gurgling happily as Penny held him in her lap, his chubby arms trying to reach the teacup on the table, but Penny was holding him just far enough away that he couldn’t reach it. Arthur had been released from the table to go play with his toys, so Hermione judged it was time. “So,” she began, “What’s bothering you?” “Well, I…erm…well, I had a date on Friday night.” Penny traced the rim of her teacup with her finger. “You what?” Hermione was gobsmacked. “I went on a date.” Penny poured herself another cup of tea. “With whom?” she asked immediately. Anyone I know?” “No one you know personally,” Penny replied. “But Ron’s probably mentioned him. He’s that inspector, from Scotland Yard.” “The one whose aunt is a witch?” “That’s the one.” Penny stirred in the milk absently. “Penny, I had a feeling Ron was trying to set you up, but please don’t tell me that you let him.” Hermione was a little horrified. “No, no, it’s not like that,” Penny protested, looking up. “We saw that Ron was trying to set us up. We were even laughing about it. And then Chris asked me himself if I’d like to go out with him.” “And you said yes?” Hermione cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, and we had a lovely time. But…” Penny trailed off, swirling her untouched tea. “But what?” Hermione asked. “I’m not sure I was supposed to have a good time!” she said, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I went because I needed to go out. I went to try out the waters, and try and get my feet under me again. I didn’t mean….I never meant…I didn’t think that I’d like him.” Hermione watched Penny closely. She was obviously very confused about her feelings. “What’s wrong with that? So you like him.” “I don’t know!” Penny exclaimed. “I’m so…so…I don’t know. I wasn’t supposed to have a good time!” “Why not?” “What was I thinking, saying yes? How can I start seeing men again? What about Arthur? What will he think about it?” She waved her free hand wildly. “Penny, Arthur’s three. He never even met Percy. Just tell him you’re auditioning people for the role of Daddy.” “But I don’t want to replace Percy!” She hit the table and rattled the teacups in their saucers. Charlie had become conscious of the charged emotion in the room, began to fuss and then to cry. “Oh, Hermione, I’m sorry!” Penny cried. They both knew how hard it was to soothe his crying once he got started. Hermione gave her a weak smile, and took her son from Penny. “It’s all right.” She put Charlie over her shoulder and began to rub his back gently. “Hush there, little one,” she said. “Shhh.” She directed her attention to Penny. “Look, Penny, I know you’re not trying to replace Percy, per say, but don’t you think you’re over-thinking this, and borrowing trouble?” “What do you mean?” Penny asked over Charlie’s wailing. “Arthur’s barely old enough to understand what’s going on. You had a nice time with Chris, what’s the harm in that?” “I…I…” “You had wanted it to go poorly, didn’t you? You thought that if it went poorly, you’d have an excuse to keep hiding yourself away. Well, I think it shows a lot that you liked him in spite of the fact that you wanted things to go poorly,” Hermione said. “I don’t know what I wanted,” Penny admitted petulantly. “I thought that it would go badly. I haven’t gone out on a date since the last time I went out with Percy. I didn’t think I remembered how. I don’t know what I thought would happen, but I didn’t expect to…” “Like him that much?” Hermione supplied with a knowing smile when Penny trailed off. “Yes! I didn’t think I’d actually…be attracted to him.” Penny blushed. “I don’t know what to do,” she said turning to gaze out the window. “I mean, he knows about Arthur, and he still asked me out, so I suppose that’s a point in his favour, but this is so complicated! And I still feel like I’m somehow betraying Percy.” “You’re not betraying Percy,” Hermione assured her. “We’ve been through this. And as for what to do, I think it’s pretty plain to me. You should try to set up a second date.” “Hermione, I’m not sure I can go through this a second time,” Penny told her. “What if it…I don’t know, gets serious?” “So it gets serious. What are you afraid of? He seems like a very nice man, so I doubt he’d try and push you into anything. Besides, you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, in the unlikely event something like that were to occur. Maybe you see each other a few times, and then part ways. Maybe it goes on for a couple of months, or years. No one is saying you have to get remarried after only one date.” Hermione watched as Penny took a series of deep breaths. “You’re right. I’m overreacting.” “You’re overreacting because you like him,” Hermione pointed out gently. “You like him, and you’re afraid of what that might mean. Merlin, Penny, neither of us had much experience with men. You had Percy and I had Ron, and that was that, done was done. You’re panicking because you feel like just because you like someone means you’re committed, just like it was with Percy. This is different. It’s not like what you had before. It has the potential to be as good, but it will never be the same.” Penny nodded. “I know.” Hermione shifted Charlie on her shoulder. “I should get him back to the Burrow,” she said. “He seems to like the back garden. Sometimes that helps him stop crying. It’s almost his dinner time, too.” “I’m sorry,” Penny apologized again. “Thank you again for coming,” she said as they rose. “Anytime, Penny, any time.” Hermione gave Penny an abbreviated hug. “Arthur! Come say goodbye to Aunt Hermione!” Penny called out. “Bye Aunt Hermy!” Arthur called out, without coming in from the living room. “Arthur, come out here and give Aunt Hermione a hug,” Penny ordered. A moment later, Arthur floated in, giggling madly. “Arthur Percival!” Penny snapped, more in shock than anything else. Hermione’s eyebrows were around her hairline. Arthur abruptly dropped to the floor, and after a stunned moment, began to sob. “Well, I guess you don’t have to worry if he’s magical or not,” Hermione said, wryly, as Penny leaned down to pick Arthur up off the floor. “He must have really not wanted to get up from where he was sitting.” “Apparently not,” Penny said. “You head on home, Hermione. I’m going to make sure he’s okay.” Hermione nodded, smiled, tossed the power in the fire and Flooed away. -- -- -- -- “More tea?” Aunt Anastasia asked him. “No, thank you,” Chris said, leaning back into the ancient wing back chair. “Thanks for letting me stop by,” he said. “Oh, posh,” Aunt Anastasia said, waving her hand dismissively. “Anytime, Chris, anytime. I don’t see nearly enough of you as I’d like.” Her expression softened, and her eyes got a little misty. “You do so remind me of your mother. She was always so inquisitive. I suppose that’s where you get your talent for investigation.” Chris nodded, starting into the darkened fireplace. “Aunt Anastasia?” “Yes?” “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” She looked a little startled, but she nodded. “Go ahead.” “Why didn’t you ever marry?” Aunt Anastasia put her teacup down. “I suppose I could give you some codswallop about how the right man never came along,” she said, and then she sighed. “The truth is, Chris, well, it’s complicated.” “What do you mean?” Chris asked, sitting up. “I was a Ravenclaw while I was at Hogwarts, we were the…” “Smart ones, yes, I remember.” “Yes, well, while I was in school, I was a year behind a young man in my house named Lyle Mulcibar. And I loved him. For a while, I thought he loved me, too. But during his seventh year, he began to change. He grew darker, more brooding. He started experimenting with magic that…well,” Aunt Anastasia trailed off and shivered. “Dark Magic?” Chris offered. Aunt Anastasia closed her eyes and nodded. She sniffed a little. “He came to me one night and told me how he’d met someone who could show him great things, and teach him incredible things. But it was all Dark Magic. That was his fault, you know, Lyle’s weakness. He couldn’t resist learning something forbidden. At first, I though it was just a rebellion thing, but as time went on, he got deeper and deeper into these things…” She swallowed. “And one day, he just…disappeared from school. No one knew where he was. Aurors came looking for him. They questioned me, but I didn’t have any idea where he was. They told me he was…he was…a Death Eater.” “A Death Eater?” “A follower of You-Know-Who,” Aunt Anastasia explained. “He was a very power dark wizard who…” “You mean Lord Voldemort? He wanted to take over and exterminate all the half-bloods and Muggleborns,” Chris supplied. “Ron and I went over some of the basics of the recent unpleasantness. The case we were working on had to do with Malfoy’s escape from prison.” Anastasia nodded. “Lyle had gone over to his side. He wrote to me once, wanted me to join them. I never answered.” “Did you still love him?” Anastasia’s cat jumped up into Chris’s lap, and he began to stroke it absently. “I suppose I did. I hated what he became though, and I hated what it did to me.” “What do you mean?” Chris asked. “Well, we’d been so close, no one quite believed me when I said that I didn’t know where he went, or what had happened to him. Guilt by association, I suppose.” Chris felt a chill come over him, as he understood immediately. Suspicion and fear, the subtle whisperings and insinuations. No one would have wanted anything to do with her. Her years of isolation, here in Cambridge, suddenly began to make sense. “What happened to him? Mulcibar, that is,” Chris asked. “He was caught at the end of the First War, but then he escaped Azkaban during the Second. He was killed in the fighting at Hogwarts during the final battle with You-Know-Who.” Chris nodded, and they sat in silence for a moment or two. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t really mean to bring up anything painful.” “It’s all right,” Anastasia said. “May I ask why you wanted to know?” “Well, I guess I asked because I was curious to find out if there are any traditions or practices that differ between wizards and Muggles…in terms of affairs of the heart, that is,” Chris explained, feeling a bit self conscious at his circuitous explanation. “You mean, do we have different ways of courting?” Anastasia asked, raising one greying eyebrow. “Now why would you want to know that?” Chris sighed. “Well, it’s like this,” he said. “I went out for dinner the other night with a witch. Her name is Penelope Clearwater-Weasley.” “Clearwater-Weasley?” “She was married to one of Ron’s brothers. He was killed in the war.” Anastasia nodded. “I think her father was a couple years ahead of me in school. Rich old codger, as I recall. The Clearwaters always were very stuffy. I can’t imagine it went over well in that family if she married into the Weasley Clan.” “What makes you say that?” Chris said, curious. “Well, the Weasleys, while one of England’s oldest and most prominent (not to mention prolific) wizarding families, have never been known for their financial success. The Clearwaters on the other hand, are old money. I can’t imagine her father was pleased with the match,” Anastasia explained. “Where did you meet her anyway?” she asked. “She’s Minister Weasley’s personal secretary,” Chris replied. “Ron introduced us, and then later, we used her flat in Diagon Alley as place to meet in privacy.” Chris chuckled. “He sort of tried to set us up, too. It didn’t quite work, but I asked her to dinner anyway.” He looked away uncomfortably. “Did you have a good time?” Anastasia asked, leaning forward a little. “I think so. I did a lot of the talking; she was fascinated by what I do. She’s a Ravenclaw, too, by the way; she loved learning things. She told me a little bit about Percy, her husband. And their son, Arthur. He’s three now. She was pregnant with him when Percy was killed.” Anastasia made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Poor dear,” she said. “Are you going to go out with her again?” Chris nodded. “I’d like to. I enjoy her company. And she’s quite attractive. I’d like the chance to get to know her some more.” “Well, I hate to disappoint you,” Anastasia said. “But if you’re looking for any magical insight into the heart of young witches, I have no idea. I didn’t really go out very much, and even if I did, I doubt much of what I knew back then would be any use now. I can’t think of anything in particular that we do any differently than Muggles do. Your mother used to go out to dinner and to the movies and the theatre, as I recall, and that’s not much different from what young wizards and witches do. When you’re at school, the courting ritual was to ask someone to go to Hogsmeade with you on an open weekend. That was the equivalent of asking someone to go out with you. But after school…dinners and theatre, picnics, and things of that sort,” Anastasia offered. “I’m sorry I can’t help you more.” “That’s all right,” Chris replied. “You’ve at least told me there isn’t anything out there I haven’t seen before.” He shooed the cat off his lap. “It’s getting on late, though, and I should get back to London.” Chris stood up and stretched. “Thank you again for having me over, Aunt Anastasia.” He paused. “I’ll try and come back for tea again next Sunday, if work doesn’t get in the way.” She smiled at him. “Any time, Chris, any time.” -- -- -- -- The next several days were busy, as Chris chased out to Dartmoor to meet with Ron and go over the findings Ron had made out on the moor. Chris confirmed that the explosives found out on the moor matched the sample from the hotel as well as the residue from the Ministry. They had hardly even scratched the surface of their findings on the moor when Malfoy had burned down Harry’s old flat in Wapping. He and Ron had agreed to meet for a late lunch at the Rampart Lion to talk about their next move. Ron appeared, looking tired and ragged. Chris handed Ron the root beer he’d ordered for him as Ron took his place in the booth. “Trouble?” Chris asked. “Well, not only is my son not sleeping, but the press is starting to really drive me nuts,” Ron replied with a tired shrug. “I’ve only just come from a press conference.” Chris winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry.” “But I saw someone who wanted to be remembered to you.” Ron’s face had lost some of its haggard look, and in its place, Ron’s eyes were dancing with mischief. “Oh?” Ron slid a sealed envelope across the table. Chris knew immediately that it was from Penny. “Go ahead, open it,” Ron said, rising. “I need to use the loo anyway. Order for me if the waitress comes back. You know what I like by now.” Chris nodded absently, as Ron disappeared. He wasn’t sure he wanted to open it. After all, she could be telling him, ‘Sorry, I just don’t think this is going to work.’ Well, my boy, you won’t know unless you open it, will you? he thought. Taking a breath, Chris broke the wax seal and opened the letter. Chris, I had a wonderful time Friday night. It’s been a long time since the last time I’ve been able to have a quiet dinner out with a friend. I was hoping we might do it again sometime soon? I’m free on Saturday night. You can send a reply through Ron, but we’re going to have to come up with a better system. I’d like to talk about it when we see each other next. Penny Chris was still smiling when Ron returned from the loo.
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