Lovers in a Dangerous Time

Anything plain can be lovely, anything loved can be lost, what if I lost my direction, what if our love is the cost - Steven Page

Ron Weasley sat in a chair in the corner of the Gryffindor common-room, curled up in a little ball, chin resting on his knees. It just...it wasn't fair, not really. She didn't even say goodbye to him. He had gone to see her, the night of her dismissal. In the middle of the night he had borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak and sneaked off to Penelope's room. And she was already gone, along with all of her things. It was as though she'd never existed; as though Ron had been dreaming the entire time.

"Ron?" A soft voice asked in his ear as a hand closed over his shoulder, and Ron jumped.

"Oh!" She said, flinching. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You just...weren't listening. Are you all right?"

He sighed. "I'm fine, Ginny." For a moment, for a split-second moment, he'd thought it was her.

"Are you sure? You've been all...all funny lately. Do...do you want to talk about it?"

He didn't really, but he did and...and before he knew it he was moving over in the overstuffed chair so that Ginny could perch herself on one of the arms of it. "What is there to talk about, really..." Ron said softly. "My girlfriend just lost her job because of me. She hasn't spoken to me since."

"Ohhh, Ron." Ginny saw immediately to one of the more hidden causes of Ron's upset - being afraid for his relationship with Penny. "Ron, she's probably been very busy. They probably didn't give her time to come talking to you...they probably just packed her up and shipped her off right away. She's probably upset right now about the fact that she didn't get to see you again. And besides..." Ginny added with a sly wink. "It's just as much her fault as it is yours, isn't it?"

Ron sighed. "Ginny..." he said softly. She didn't quite understand. His little sister was very much a romantic, in every sense of the word.

"Ron? Oh...oh, there you are. We've been looking all over." Hermione said, pressing her palm to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

"I've been...sitting here...since dinner." Ron returned, confused.

"Harry! I've found him!" Hermione called across the Common Room; Harry heard and ran across the room to the others.

"I've been right here since dinner. Just sitting here." Ron said. "I shouldn't have been that hard to find. What's going on?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, matching looks of apprehension on their faces. One could almost read the unspoken thought hanging between them, do you want to tell him or should I? Finally Harry sighed, and handed a piece of paper to Ron. "It's the front page of today's Daily Prophet," He explained.

Ron took the paper gingerly and looked at the headline. "Hogwarts temporarily down by one staff member: Professor neither confirms nor denies allegations," he read, and then his eyes dropped to the by-line. "By...Gordon Clearwater Everhaven?" His voice rose in disbelief. "Bloody hell." He whispered, feeling his heart sinking in his chest.

# # #

Penelope walked lightly down the stairs of Percy and Oliver's tiny house, dressed in plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a faded oversized Chudley Cannons tee-shirt, her hair up in a towel on top of her head. They had been kind, very kind indeed, to let her stay with them until she got back on her feet.

"Finally!" Percy said with a sigh, as Penelope walked into the living room. "You take the longest showers of anyone I've ever known."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "At least she sings on-key." He commented dryly.

Percy snorted and went upstairs to take his shower, looking at his watch as he went. He had a meeting this morning with some newspaper people; he was going to attempt to ask the press to be nicer about Penelope's so-called scandal, but he wasn't sure if that would go over very well. At all. The press lived for scandals. Still, there was no harm in trying, was there?

"I didn't know you supported the Cannons." Oliver said conversationally.

"What? Oh...oh!" Penelope laughed. "I forgot I was wearing it...it's my favourite shirt, I've had it forever. I like the Cannons. They never win, do they? I like that...it's a desirable quality in a sports team, at least in my opinion." She grinned at Oliver as she moved to sit down on the sofa.

"You and my little brother are their only two fans, I think." Percy called from halfway up the stairs, listening to their conversation.

Penelope laughed at that. "Stop eavesdropping and go take your shower!" She ordered him, and then turned back to Oliver. "You never played for the Cannons, did you?" The vaguely horrified look on Oliver's face at that suggestion told Penelope everything she needed to know. She smiled. "I suppose that means no. But you've always been better than them, haven't you?"

"For a long time, yes." Oliver replied, smiling at Penelope. Their conversation was soon interrupted, however, by the arrival of Telemachus and Hermes, bringing in the day's mail.

"Telemachus!" Penelope said happily as her owl delicately dropped the mail in her lap and flew around her in a circle, looking for treats. "Hello, love. No...no, I don't have anything...I'm sorry." She told him as he hooted softly at her. "Go bother uncle Oliver, yes, that's a good boy."

"Penny...I've my hands full with this one!" Oliver reproached her, laughing, as he stood up and took the canister of owl-treats down from the mantle and gave one each to Hermes and Telemachus. To his surprise, they didn't stay and beg for more, they cooperated for once and flew upstairs to the attic where they slept.

"Hmm...let's see...what have they decided to print today?" Penelope said, unfolding the Daily Prophet. She flinched at the sight of the main headline on the front page, her eyes catching the phrase 'Hogwarts Professor runs to Beauxbatons: French accustomed to scandalous love affairs' printed in wide block letters. Her "scandal" had been the biggest news for days now, and she wasn't sure how much of that she could stand. Her brother's article had been mostly truth, and that was fine - although it had upset her at the time, it was quite mild in retrospect. The problem is that that article was followed by a dozen more, each with less and less bits of truth in them. Now all that was left was rumours, but they were being printed anyway. She sighed, letting the paper drop to the ground. She just...didn't have the energy to deal with it today.

# # #

Percy finished his shower in record time - without singing anything for once, although that had more to do with the fact that he was in a hurry than the earlier harsh comments on his singing. From the bedroom he could hear bits of the conversation drifting up to him from downstairs. Penelope. She was an interesting addition to their little household. Of all the people he expected to see at his door that night, she was probably one of the last.

And...of all the people in the world he ever expected to fall in love with his little brother...she was probably one of the last of those too, he thought. Although they did suit each other, he realised. They both liked the Chudley Cannons, for one thing, and if that didn't spell out a future of undying love, what did?

If he had heard about their relationship under any different circumstances, Percy mused, he probably would have been rather envious. Just a little bit. Because his brother was able to fall in love with Penelope as Percy himself wasn't, because the relationship between Ron and Penelope was, on the surface, an easy one. But it wasn't; it certainly wasn't simple, by any means. Not simple at all.

He paused to take a last look at himself in the mirror and smooth out imaginary wrinkles in his best set of dress-robes. And then he adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses and went back down the stairs to say goodbye to Oliver...and to Penelope.

Oliver met him half-way. "Good luck in your meeting." He whispered to Percy. "I don't think she can take much more."

"Another one today?"

"Of course."

Percy sighed. It stung him too, it really did, to read such things about his little brother and one of his best friends. Even if they weren't allowed to print Ron Weasley's name, it was blatantly obvious who the un-named "tall handsome red-haired seventh-year Gryffindor house Hogwarts student whose best friend is The Boy Who Lived" was, wasn't it? "Do you need me to stay? Will she be okay?" He asked softly, thinking back to the day when Penelope read the first of the damning headlines - written by her own brother - and fell to pieces.

"No, you should go. If you achieve the goal of your meeting, that will be a better help. As much as I'd love you to stay..." Oliver's eyes sparkled as he grinned at Percy, "I think you'd be better off leaving."

"You're probably right. Take good care of her."

"I will." Oliver said, drawing Percy into his arms for a proper goodbye.

# # #

She was not going to lose it, she wasn't. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth more of her tears. Nothing was. At least, this was what she kept telling herself. She was almost starting to believe it...almost.

"Bye, love." Percy said in her ear as he passed the sofa where she was sitting, leaning over to leave a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Bye...Perce." Penelope said softly, watching him go. He reminded her of Ron, sometimes. Like when he did something sweet, like that. But she was not going to think about Ron, that would be quite counter-productive.

She sat there alone on the sofa, listening to Oliver doing...something upstairs. She could hear him walking around; he didn't exactly walk lightly. After a while he emerged - Penelope assumed triumphantly, given the way he was running down the stairs.

"Here we are then." He said, sitting down next to her.

"What?"

"I found us some chocolate." Oliver grinned as he held out the bag with the logo from Hogsmeade's finest candy shop on it. "Chocolate frogs, actually...all of the fancy stuff is gone."

"Chocolate is chocolate." Penelope returned. "You're quite clever...you must have sisters, then...to know to bring an upset woman chocolate," she joked.

"No sisters, I'm afraid. No sisters, no brothers, no father - just my mum. But still, you don't live with my mum for that long and not pick up a few things." He winked at her and handed her one of the brightly-wrapped chocolate frogs.

"Thank you." She said, beginning to delicately unwrap it. As soon as she got the packaging open, Penelope carefully slipped the collectors card out...and then suddenly reached out, bashing the wrapped candy against the table with a loud crack.

"That's one way to deal with your anger, isn't it?" Oliver offered.

Penelope laughed at that. "I suppose so...I always tend to bash my chocolate up into little pieces. It goes more slowly that way." She delicately extracted a sliver of chocolate from the packet and placed it in her mouth.

"Who's your card?" Oliver asked.

"I didn't look..." She reached for the card she had carefully placed aside, and snorted when she saw who it was. "Circe." She announced, and then in a soft yet slightly angry voice, added "Bitch."

"What?"

"Circe. She seduced and slept with Odysseus. Therefore she was a bitch." Penelope smiled an evil grin at Oliver. "She seduced him, and that meant that he was cheating on his wife, Penelope. Who was my favourite character from The Odyssey- for obvious reasons - so consequently..." She shrugged neatly.

Oliver laughed. "Glad to see you feeling better." He said, shaking his head.

"Who said I was feeling better?" She said with a soft sigh.

"I've...Ptolemy." Oliver held up the chocolate-frog card, in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"Really?" Penelope looked over at him, interested. "It sounds familiar...can I have it?"

"Of course. I didn't know you collected them."

"I don't, Ron does, and...oh." She suddenly went very, very pale. "Oh, Oliver...Oliver, my boyfriend collects chocolate-frog cards."

He looked at Penelope for a long moment, trying to think of what he could possibly say to that, finally settling for "Yes, he does."

"Oh, Oliver!" She said, near to tears. "How...pathetic..."

"Penelope, Penelope..." He soothed, or attempted to. "Penelope, it's okay...he's only seventeen...he's allowed to..." Oliver bit his lip suddenly, realising that that probably wasn't the smartest thing to say.

"Only seventeen. And one is not serious at seventeen years old, Oliver." Penelope blinked away the tears that prickled at her eyes. She had much bigger, greater problems to think about...like her job, her future...but her mind kept being pulled back to the one and only Ron Weasley.

"Sometimes people are." Oliver said quietly. "Sometimes they are."

"I know I wasn't." Penelope returned, pondering. "Of course, I thought I was at the time. I thought I was terribly, terribly serious at seventeen. Letting Percy go...making Percy go," she corrected, which earned a smile from Oliver. "But when I look back on it, I wasn't serious at all, was I? Not at all, not compared to...to now." A sudden thought crossed her mind, and she smiled at the irony. "Of course, I'm not very serious even now, am I? I've a million things that I should be worrying about and all I can think of is him."

# # #

At Hogwarts, the students sat and picked over the remains of their breakfasts while waiting for the mail to arrive. It was one of the bright spots in their gloomy days - winter was coming and the days grew shorter and darker. It was almost time for the winter holidays, but there were still a few more days left to go: the longest few days in the entire school year.

"Ron?" Hermione asked. "Ron, are you okay? You haven't touched your breakfast." This was indeed unusual, and a valid cause for concern.

"What? Oh, yes...I'm fine." Ron lied bravely. It was almost time for the mail, the most depressing and difficult moment in Ron Weasley's day. He had cancelled his subscription to the Daily Prophet after the second feature article about the Scandal at Hogwarts, so that was one weight off of his shoulders. Of course, the other students still got the paper, and often helpfully informed him of what he missed in the articles he didn't read.

And there was also the constant stream of letters from people who wanted to give him advice or condemn him or inform him of his rights. He threw those away, unanswered. Dumbledore often found himself buried under letters addressed to a "Professor Clearwater, Hogwarts School", delivered to him by the confused owls who were unable to find a Professor Clearwater at Hogwarts School. Penelope, perhaps sensibly, left no forwarding address.

Ron sat there, staring down into his breakfast cereal, facing those glum thoughts, unaware that over his head Harry and Hermione were exchanging pointed glances. Someone somewhere shouted something about the mail, and Ron looked up and flinched at the sound of wingbeats.

There were a few unfamiliar owls surrounding Ron today, but not many. Perhaps the novelty of his situation was perhaps finally wearing off? He counted only three letters from strangers - which he swept up into a pile and banished to the fireplace with a quick whispered spell. The two letters that he had left, now...both seemed interesting. One of them was from his mother, and the other was from...Percy? Both Hermes and a very exhausted looking Errol remained perched at the breakfast table, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement. Ron broke one of his uneaten pieces of toast in half and split it evenly between the two owls, who hooted their thanks before returning to the owlery for a much-deserved rest.

Ron turned his attention first to the letter from his mother. He was not really looking forward to reading whatever it was Percy had to say.

Dear Ron:

I hope you're not letting the newspapers get you discouraged. We all love you very much here. Your father and I are thinking about you. You are very strong and brave and we're proud of you. Are you sure you want to stay at Hogwarts over the Winter Holidays? You're welcome to come home, we'd like to see you. The twins will be there, of course, and I think Bill is coming home for Christmas this year. We're trying to convince Percy to come too, although he's not said for sure. If he is, he might be bringing company, someone special. You could invite Penelope to come, we'd love to have her. I'm dying to meet her. Well, I won't write you a novel, I just wanted to let you know that we love you and we're thinking about you.

Love, Mum

He smiled as he read it. His mum always sounded funny in her letters. Well...that might explain the letter from Percy. Was he too writing about the Winter Holidays? Probably. Ron still wasn't sure what he was doing. He half wanted to go home, but he was a little afraid of facing his family and a little afraid of what his family might have to say about the whole mess. On the same token, he was a little afraid of staying behind at Hogwarts, where he would have to answer to his classmates. Harry would be staying over the holiday, as always. And Ron overheard Hermione talking about how she might stay behind too - so Ron would have her to deal with. He had yet to decide which was the better choice.

Hesitantly, he reached for the letter from his brother, uncertain about what Percy might have to say. Ron unfolded the letter, and then blinked when he saw the writing. It was the polar opposite of Percy's embarrassingly neat tiny handwriting; it was a large and loopy and almost effeminate script. His first illogical thought was that it came from Penelope...but he knew her handwriting too, and this was not it. Curious, he flipped the letter over and found the signature...Oliver Wood. Oliver Wood?

Dear Ron,

I'll bet it comes as a surprise to be getting a letter from me of all people, especially from your brother's owl. There are a lot of explanations we owe you, I'm sure. I don't have the time to explain them now. Remind me later and I'll fill you in on the whole story. Anyway, I'm not writing about me or about Percy. I'm writing about Penelope. She would kill me if she knew I was doing this. Few people realise I'm a sap at heart. I do that on purpose - who would take me seriously if they knew? I really hope this doesn't fall into the wrong hands, both for that and for what I'm going to say. She loves you, Ron. Penelope loves you. She is here with us. I thought you might like to know. But remember...I told you none of this. I am a big bad Quidditch player, I scoff at romantic nonsense! Right.

Yours, Oliver Wood

Ron sat there, staring at the letter for a long time, before clumsily folding it up and tucking it into an inside pocket in his robes. It had given him something to think about.

"Ron! Ron!" Hermione and Harry called, a split-second apart from in unison, from across the room.

He jumped, almost guiltily, and turned to look at them.

"It's time for potions. Come on!" Hermione called.

Ron smiled and shook away his wandering thoughts, standing up and following his two friends off to their now-dreaded Potions Class.

# # #

With a flourish, Neville Longbottom signed his name at the bottom of the list of students who were staying at Hogwarts over the winter holidays. He smiled at the look of the list, his eyes catching the last two names on the list...Colin Creevy, Neville Longbottom. This Christmas was looking as though it would be a very happy Christmas indeed, Neville thought.

"I don't know why they even bother making me sign it anymore." Harry Potter said from over Neville's shoulder. "I mean...I always stay here."

Neville smiled as he turned around and handed Harry the paper. "You do."

"You don't usually stay here, do you?" Harry looked up at Neville after signing the parchment.

"No, not really..." He said, with a small absent smile on his face.

Harry looked from the paper to Neville and back to the paper - and then he got a small knowing smile on his face, thinking that Neville must be excited for the upcoming holidays. "But you are this year?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes." Neville continued staring out into space, daydreaming..."Good...good." Harry laughed lightly as he turned away from Neville. "I've never seen him this happy in Potions class." He murmured in an undertone to Hermione.

"Who, Neville?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Hermione stepped forward to add her name to the list. "Hallo Neville." She said brightly, signing her name just under Harry's.

"What? Oh, hello, Hermione." Neville returned hastily, trying to return to the real world.

"You're staying here for Christmas, I take it?"

"Yes..." Neville said, that same happy smile returning to his face.

Hermione shook her head as she went back to her seat near the back of the room. "He's in love." She told Harry bluntly.

"In love? Neville?" Harry stammered, sounding rather shocked. He looked at Neville, wondering who in the world Neville could possibly be in love with.

She snorted. "Men...you're so clueless."

Harry stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head and sat down next to Ron. Ron, who was currently occupied in studying for their Potions Lab practical examination, didn't blink an eye when Harry sat down.

"Ron?" Hermione said lightly as she took the seat on the other side of Ron. "Ron? Ron?" When it was obvious that he had successfully stopped listening to everything and blocked out all the outside noises, Hermione sighed and leaned forward, taking his shoulder and shaking it. "Ron!"

He jumped and yelped slightly, and then looked at Hermione rather sheepishly. "I'm sorry...what is it?"

"Didn't you say that you were going to stay here? Over the holidays? Neville has the list...to sign up. If you're staying."

Neville heard his name and turned around, watched the three others, listening to their conversation.

"Oh." Ron said softly, and went back to his studying.

"Have you figured it out yet?" Harry asked.

"Yes." He smiled a rather cryptic smile.

After another minute passed and Ron made no motion to get up and sign the paper, Hermione ventured a guess. "So...you're going home, then?"

"No."

"Oh. So you're staying here, then?"

Ron looked back and forth from Hermione to Harry. "Not exactly."

"Then...?"

He sighed. "I'm going...somewhere else."

"Somewhere else? Do your parents know?" Hermione demanded, in her normal mother-hen fashion.

"No." He admitted. "They think I'm staying here. Hogwarts thinks I'm going home."

Neville flinched. It was a very risky plan. He was glad he had...safer plans for the holidays. And then he smiled again, with the thought of the holidays, the winter holidays and anticipated happiness.

"Oh Ron!" Hermione sighed. "You could get in so much trouble."

Ron's eyes glittered. "Sometimes it's worth it, isn't it?" He breathed.

# # #

Penelope sighed, turning a page in her book. She was all alone in the little house - Oliver and Percy had gone out for a day-and-night on the town. A much-deserved day-and-night on the town, Penelope thought. They were being good sports for putting up with her as much as they were, for as long as they had. She really needed to start looking for a place of her own, she thought absently, as her eyes returned to the words. She'd been a third-wheel for far too long.

Her mind kept wandering, however, and she was having trouble concentrating on her reading. Today, she realised, the students of Hogwarts were let out on winter holidays. Christmas was rapidly approaching...Christmas and soon after that would be New Years. New Years, when she would have her meeting with Dumbledore and McGonagall - Albus and Minerva, she corrected herself. She was no longer their student, no, she was their colleague. Well, she was formerly their colleague. Whether or not she would continue to be would depend entirely on the meeting. And Penelope had no idea what would happen; none at all.

She hadn't planned anything for it at all yet, had yet to think of a single convincing argument she could use to get her job back. Luckily, she still had time. A little time.

Penelope turned the page out of habit, even though she knew she had no idea what happened on the one she just supposedly read. It was a rather dull book anyway...one of Percy's books. She'd already read all of his interesting books, and was now down to the dull ones. Any day now she would be upstairs rummaging through Oliver's things in order to find his Quidditch Manuals, having already read everything else in the house.

The house was quiet, silent except for the regular chiming of Percy's prized Grandfather Clock every fifteen minutes. So Penelope noticed the noises outside immediately. She turned around to glance at the clock...almost a quarter-after-seven, much too early for it to be Percy and Oliver returning. Penelope really hoped not. One mail delivery per day was far enough.

They rang the bell...once...twice. A pause, and then they rang it again. And again.

With a sigh, Penelope got up to answer it, deciding that they were not about to go away. She hoped that it wasn't the press...she could manage to deal with anyone but the press.

Penelope opened the door a crack. "Yes?" She said softly.

"Penny?" A familiar voice asked, incredulously.

A familiar voice...it couldn't be, could it? Hesitantly, she opened the door wider. "Ron?"

(End Part II)