Lovers in a Dangerous Time

"Lovers in a Dangerous Time"

by Elske

(Part One)

"When you're lovers in a dangerous time sometimes you're made to feel as if your love's a crime" -- ?? (to be determined once I figure out who deserves credit for the lyrics)

The infamous four - Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley- were, again, perilously close to being late for their potions class. As seventh-years, they should have known better. As Head Girl, Hermione really should have known better. If pressed, she'd blame it on the influence of her occasionally irresponsible companions.

"Can't we hurry, just a bit? We're about to be late!" Neville said, almost frantically. He still had a rather irrational fear of being late to potions, probably due to memories of the wrath of Professor Snape.

"Neville, relax!" Hermione replied, stopping and turning around to look at him. "We've plenty of time. Well, maybe not plenty...enough. We've enough time." She smirked at him before starting walking again.

"Still...you never know..." Neville responded. You never did know, did you? I mean...just because things had been going better for him lately was no reason to assume that that wouldn't change. Sure, and he'd been doing fabulously in Potions all year. Ever since Professor Snape had stopped teaching the class, in fact. Granted, his Defence Against the Dark Arts grades had dropped a bit - but Professor Snape was much, much less scary out of his dungeons and in a regular classroom setting. And Colin had been helping him with his homework, which was nice, because Colin was quite good at Defence Against the Dark Arts. Amongst other things.

"As much as I hate to say it," Ron interrupted, "I agree with Neville."

Hermione laughed at that. "You agree with Neville?" She echoed with mock surprise.

Harry grinned. "We all know why he's in a hurry to get there, don't we?" He teased, winking at Ron and laughing when he saw his best friend blushing.

"Yes, yes." Hermione chimed in, noticing that that was her cue to speak. Teasing Ron was terribly fun. Especially when said teasing was about Penelope.

Ron moaned lightly and would have buried his head in his hands, had his hands not been full. Of course, what they said was true - which tended to make it all the worse. The worse for Ron, mind...the better for his tormentors.

At the beginning of the school year, Professor Snape had finally been given the chance to teach the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, a position he had been eyeing for years. Which meant, of course, that a new Professor of Potions was needed. And so Penelope Clearwater -a former Ravenclaw who had spent her last three years at a Muggle university earning a degree in education - became the new Professor of Potions. She did a fabulous job at it; many of the students who had been awkward around Professor Snape improved greatly in Professor Clearwater's class.

"I don't think we're late." Neville said suddenly, reaching for the heavy door into the Potion's classroom. He managed to open it, then took one small, cautious step into the room. Then he stopped dead in his tracks. You never did know, did you?

"Neville? Neville, what is it?" Hermione hissed behind him.

"No-nothing." Neville said, turning quite pale. He was not going to show fear, he was...oh, but he couldn't help it. He yelped suddenly, almost losing his grip on his books. He dropped his inkwell in the process; it shattered with a dull chiming.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," intoned a sickeningly familiar sarcastic voice. "For keeping us all waiting, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville, shivering, walked completely into the room and began picking up his spilled papers, quickly bolting to his seat. Hermione followed, a strange expression on her face.

"Miss Granger...Mr. Potter..." The Professor said, a rather evil smile on his face as he watched Hermione and Harry enter the room.

"Professor Snape, sir?" Hermione said, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Where's Professor Clearwater?"

"She's been...oh, how shall I put this? Expelled...no, that's for students. Dismissed, put on probation." Professor Snape paced around the front of the room, and stopped when his eyes fell on Ron. "Ah, yes. Mr. Weasley. I'm quite surprised to see you here, considering the nature of Miss Clearwater's expulsion."

Professor Snape watched with a rather satisfied grin as the look of horror on Ron's face was quickly replaced by a frantic blushing as everyone turned to stare, incredulously, at Ron. Ron Weasley, who was Penelope Clearwater's unofficial boyfriend. (And since that was supposed to be rather secret, of course, everyone knew.)

# # #

At the end of the longest and most trying Potions class of Ron Weasley's life, he quickly got up from his seat and bolted from the classroom.

Hermione quickly followed him; she could guess his probable reaction and wanted to catch up with him before he did something stupid. "Ron!" She exclaimed, reaching out and taking a hold of his shoulder. "Ron, where are you going?"

He looked at her as if she were an idiot. "I'm going to find her, of course."

Hermione sighed. "Ron...Ron, you know you can't do that. You'll get her into more trouble than she already is!" When she saw Ron's stricken look, she realised she probably shouldn't have said that last part. "Ron...do you think you can tell me what happened?"

Ron sighed. "Yes...yes, I suppose I'd better. It was...it was all perfectly innocent really. Mostly." He blushed a bit at that, which made Hermione smile gently at him.

"Mostly?" She pressed.

"Yes. Mostly." Ron shook his head, trying to work up the courage to continue. He felt rather silly, talking about what happened, but...well...he had to, because the conclusion that people were probably jumping to was much more damaging than the truth. "Well...um...remember the other day? When I went back to Penelope's room after class?"

She laughed lightly at that. "Like you always do?" Hermione said gently. "I don't remember specifically, but..."

"Well, yes. I went back to her room with her. And she was...she was wearing her hair up, you know how she does?" He gestured to the top of his head, trying to explain it. "Um...plaited and up on her head with a million pins in it."

"Yes, I know," Hermione replied. "A very sensible thing to do, if you ask me." In their first week of school, Hermione always cringed when she saw Penelope leaning over smoking cauldrons filled with uncertain mixtures. Her long curly hair would hover within centimetres of the potions...and then one time Penelope slipped and leaned over too far and half of her hair ended up an interesting shade of pink. Ever since that incident, Penelope took the precaution of wearing her hair pinned up and far out of the way.

"Well, anyway...she had her hair up..." Ron said, his blush deepening. "And I started...um...taking it down for her." Which was all quite true. "Taking out the pins and...stuff."

"Yes?" Hermione prompted.

"Well...yes. So I was doing that." He wasn't sure it was possible to blush quite that much, yet he was doing it. "Taking down her hair. And then McGonagall walked in and..." Ron shrugged. "And she saw us and was completely and entirely scandalised."

"Scandalised? From that?" Hermione said, and then gave Ron a look. "And that's all that you were doing?"

Ron's eyes widened. "Yes!" He protested. "We had been kissing...um, a little bit, but..." He shrugged. "But McGonagall...was completely horrified. She turned quite pale and mumbled something about improper behaviour and stomped off. And I left and...and I hadn't seen Penelope except in class since." He shook his head. "I can only assume that McGonagall took what she saw as a prelude to...other things." And with that Ron began blushing again.

"Hmm. Perhaps. Or perhaps..." Hermione looked suddenly very triumphant. "Well...have you ever seen her with her hair down? Ever? Professor McGonagall, that is?"

"No."

"Neither have I. Neither has anyone. Perhaps...perhaps she has a sort of hair-modesty." Hermione shrugged. "My mother does, although it's the opposite sort. She never wears hers up...she always keeps the back of her neck covered."

"What?" Ron returned after a moment, completely confused.

"Well, that's not the point, is it? Maybe to Professor McGonagall, wearing one's hair down is something that's just not done...and to see you taking her hair down for her was a great intimacy."

"You're crazy, aren't you!" Ron said, a smile on his face. "Trying to figure out exactly why McGonagall was scandalised. The point was that she was...and that they've gone and dismissed Penelope." His face fell. "It's terribly unfair...we hadn't been doing anything!" And he blushed again after saying that, something else he hadn't meant to say.

"Ron..." Hermione said, giving him a sweet smile. "Ron, love, I believe you. I do. And I think right now...I think we should tell Harry. And find out what he thinks." She reached out and put one hand on his arm, trying to guide him back towards the Gryffindor common room.

"But! But...but Hermione, I have to go see her..." Ron pulled away from Hermione suddenly, trying to go in the opposite direction, towards the hidden wing where the teachers lived.

"Oh, Ron...Ron!" She grabbed onto a corner of his robes, pulling him back towards her. "Ron, please...you can't. If they find you there, again..." She trailed off, hoping that Ron would understand. "You can always...send her a message...later? Or something?"

He sighed, and gave Hermione a defeated look. "Yes," he finally agreed. "Yes, you're probably right." And he let Hermione lead him away, back to the relative safety of the Gryffindor common room.

# # #

Penelope Clearwater paced around her room irritably, near tears, as she gathered up her belongings and carefully packed them away in boxes. It wasn't fair...it just wasn't fair. None of it was.

A tiny globe of blue light hovered near her face; the manifestation of a long-distance talking spell, with effects similar to a Muggle telephone. Her first impulse after hearing that she was to be...dismissed...was to call her parents. Of course, that was impossible. Her parents had both retired from their jobs, sold their house, and embarked on a life of adventure. They were currently off on holiday in Africa. So Penelope had to settle for the next best thing: her older brother Gordon.

Which, in retrospect, was probably not one of her better ideas. Her older brother had always been one of her best friends. Of course, after graduating from Hogwarts, Gordon took a job with the Daily Prophet, and now was working under the infamous Rita Skeeter. Normally this posed no problems between Gordon and Penelope - why would it? However, given the events at hand... He had been excited to hear from her and promptly asked her what had happened. Not thinking, Penelope told him exactly what happened. She didn't realise his intentions until he asked her for clarifications on points...and then informed her that she'd just given him his next big headline.

"So you're saying that that's true?" Said her brother's voice, excitedly, from the blue ball of light.

Penelope sighed. "We've already been through this once, Gordon," she reminded him. "What is true? What is true is that I'm being temporarily dismissed from Hogwarts until the New Year. End of story." She turned back to her closet and began taking her robes out, one at a time, attempting to fold them neatly.

"End of story? Oh, no, Penny-love. It is most definitely not the end of the story." Gordon told Penelope in triumphant tones. "Most definitely not the end of the story at all." His voice seemed to ooze.

Penelope growled, flinging a handful of half-folded robes towards one of her boxes. "Gordon...Gordon, can I ask you a favour? Can you stop being the star reporter for just a moment? Please?" She said, a bit harsher than she intended to.

"All right, all right." Gordon returned, apologetically, yet with a hint of sarcasm. And then, a bit more kindly, "But Penelope...if you don't let me print the truth...they'll slander you."

She sighed, knowing that what he said had a lot of merit. "Yes, Gordon, I know. I've already told you what happened; that was the true story." It was...mostly the true story. The fact that she loved Ron was equally true, although omitted from her story. The truth of love had no place in the sensationalised media.

Penelope turned back towards her closet, rubbing at her stinging eyes. She felt as though she wanted to cry, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Everything had been happening so fast - one moment she had been on top of the world, with a job teaching at Hogwarts, sharing her company with someone she loved and liked to think loved her. But she hadn't heard a word from him since...the incident, and now she had been dismissed temporarily, perhaps permanently from her job and her story was going on the front pages of the Wizarding newspapers.

Her closet emptied, Penelope turned her attention to the rest of the room. It was almost as bare and impersonal as it had been when she arrived. Her owl's cage stood open and empty on her desk...and one of her walls was still covered in photographs.

She felt a sad wrenching in her heart as she reached over and began to charm the photographs off of her wall, remembering the assistance a certain Ron Weasley had given her when she decorated. Penelope had photographs of all of the important times in her life...and she'd never gotten around to having one taken of her and Ron. Perhaps now, she'd never have the chance.

Penelope sat down suddenly on her bed, clutching a small silver picture-frame in her hands, feeling the tears finally coming to her eyes.

"Penny?" Gordon asked from the little ball of blue light that still hovered near Penelope's face. "Penny, love, are you crying?"

She looked over at the spell, surprised - somehow, she had forgotten that it was there. "Yes." She admitted in a small voice. "Oh, Gordon...what am I going to do? Whatever in the world am I going to do? I've nowhere to go, nothing to do...no one to help me."

At the window, an owl hooted, and Penelope stood up and crossed the room to let him in. "Well, I've got you, love, haven't I?" She said in an undertone, smiling at the ivory barn owl as he perched on her shoulder. "You and me, Telemachus, against the world." She walked over to the wall and finished charming the pictures off...not because she was feeling much better, but because she knew that it had to get done.

"Oh, Penny..." Gordon said warmly, sounding more like the strong older brother Penelope remembered and less like the bloodthirsty reporter. "Penelope, you're going to do what you always do. You're going to pick up the pieces and become strong again. And once you do, you're going to convince them that you deserve your job back."

"I mean...it's not exactly as if I can go home to mother? Where should I go, what should I do?"

She could sense that Gordon was flinching. "I'd offer to let you come stay with us, but we've barely enough room for the three of us as it is." He said, softly.

"Yes...yes." Penelope agreed, closing her box with a great flourish and using a spell to shrink it to the size of a gift-box that she could pack easily in her small suitcase. "I have to leave Hogwarts tonight. I could look for a room in Hogsmeade, I suppose, but..." It was apparent in her voice that she did not like that option at all. In Hogsmeade, she'd be surrounded by prying eyes and copies of the Daily Prophet.

"Hey!" Gordon said suddenly. "I've an idea. Why don't you look up...what's his name? Your old boyfriend...the writer? I'm sure he owes you a favour."

"Percy?"

Percy.

# # #

"Percy?"

The red-haired wizard looked up guiltily from the open book in his lap. "Yes?" He said in a small voice, absently pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"You haven't been listening, have you?"

"Of course I have!" Percy replied, and then shook his head, a sheepish smile on his face. "Mostly."

"Mostly, hmm? Well..." The other man winked at Percy, before standing up and proceeding to sit in Percy's chair, managing somehow to squeeze himself in next to Percy. "What are you reading?" He breathed.

"Oh...it's about Japan. Fascinating people, Japanese wizards." Percy replied, eyes again straying to the text.

"Fascinating, are they?"

"Of course."

"Know what else is fascinating?"

"You?" Percy suggested, turning away from the book for a moment. Or two. And then he stopped kissing Oliver and turned back to his reading.

Oliver Wood sighed, a small smile on his face, and threw his arm around Percy, pillowing his head on his love's shoulder. The two of them sat there in silence, reading and daydreaming and just being together, enjoying living la vie quotidienne.

Not that their lives could really be described as 'just everyday', by any means. Oliver Wood - former Quidditch star at Hogwarts - was now a Quidditch star for all of England and playing on the English national team. It was currently the off-season for his sport, so Oliver had been home for a bit. But after New Years, the entire team was travelling to Japan to play the first match in the international Quidditch competitions.

Percy's life was far more commonplace. After assorted near-scandals in the Ministry of Magic, Percy left his job there. There was nothing much he disliked more than corruption. He wrote a series of articles for the Daily Prophet about his time at the Ministry, which were surprisingly a great success. Percy never thought of himself as a writer - dozens of articles about cauldron thickness regulations notwithstanding - but a writer he became. He was able to find freelance work for both Wizarding and Muggle publications. It was a wonderful job. The best part about it was that he was able to spend nights like this, cosily drowsing in his living room with his love...his Oliver. They had both come a long way from that day in the Prefect's Bathroom at Hogwarts, the day when Penelope had first brought them together.

"Mmm...Perce? Do you hear that?"

"Hear...what?" Percy returned, sleepily.

"That!" Oliver said, and paused a moment, listening. "It sounds like someone's at our door."

"At our door?" Percy sat up, closed the book, set it aside. "Who could be visiting, unexpected, at this hour?"

# # #

Penelope smiled at the taxi-driver as she counted money into his callused palm. With a small sigh, she took her suitcase in one hand and Telemachus's cage in the other and stepped out into the street. And directly into a puddle, she realised, and winced as she felt the cold wetness soaking through her shoes and nylons. This just...wasn't her day.

She began walking up the side-street (on a hill, of course) towards Percy and Oliver's tiny house, feeling the rain batter against her head and shoulders. She slipped suddenly, nearly falling, flailing her arms until she could get her balance. Telemachus hooted softly at her from inside the covered cage, upset at the upset motion. "I'm sorry, love." Penelope whispered to her owl. "We're almost there. I hope." She had a strange sickening feeling of doubt...they were old friends, of course. They were still rather good friends, always had been. But friendship only stretched so far; especially if one of the friends was currently having scandalous accusations made about her and the younger brother of the other friend.

Penelope paused in front of the door to Percy and Oliver's house, setting down her suitcase and moving the strands of wet hair out of her face. "This is it...wish us luck!" She whispered to Telemachus, and then stepped forward and began ringing the bell.

# # #

Percy managed to get to his feet and opened the door, his eyes widening at the unexpected sight of a waterlogged Penelope on his doorstep, suitcase in one hand and birdcage in the other.

"Hello Percy...may I come in?"

(End Part I)