Thunderstorm At Midnight

"What was that?" asked Pansy Parkinson, pausing in her unbuttoning of Dean Thomas' white collared shirt. She shifted on his lap, and looked around the abandoned classroom. Dean shrugged, staring at her with breathless adoration.

"I don't know," he said, quite obviously not caring what she was talking about at all. He just wanted to get back to snogging her again. To distract her, he leaned close and nipped playfully at her earlobe. Pansy's eyes fluttered shut after a few moments, but before Dean knew it, she had suddenly jerked away from him again. "What is it?"

"I heard it again," replied Pansy.

"Heard what?" said Dean, a bit impatiently, knowing that Pansy was not going to allow herself to be deterred from whatever she was on about. He scratched his head, disappointed that their snogging time was probably over. With a small sigh, he placed his hands on her hips to move her off of his lap. She had all ready been thinking along those lines, however, and had removed herself without his help.

"What are you doing?" He was curious, as Pansy made her way to the door of the classroom and closed her fingers around the knob.

"Shut up, Thomas," she said with exasperation. "I'm checking to see if there's anyone in the corridor."

"Why would there be anyone up now? It's almost ten o clock."

"Exactly," said Pansy. "If I see anyone coming this way, I will deduct so many points. No one is allowed to be up at this hour - "

"Pansy," he started with a small chuckle, "we're up at this hour."

"Bloody hell, Dean, I really can't afford to be seen with you, can I? You're too thick for me. I might as well snog Crabbe."

Dean scrunched up his eyebrows as those unlikely, but still disturbing images floated into his mind. "Just how am I too thick for you?"

"I am a prefect," said Pansy, in a tone that suggested this answered all of the questions in the universe.

"So what?"

"I can roam the castle any time I want to!" She sounded slightly frustrated.

Dean seriously doubted that even prefects were allowed to just roam about whenever they fancied, but he didn't say anything, for that moment Pansy opened the door and stuck her head out into the hallway. He could practically see her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she checked the corridors for any sign of movement.

Dean let out another sigh. She was seriously cutting into the make out time that he had been looking forward to all day long. Dean always looked forward to their make out time. Pansy gave his life more excitement, for one. It seemed all he ever did was follow a schedule. A schedule that consisted of eating, sleeping, and schoolwork. It was beginning to get boring after six years. He was tired of seeing the same people day after day.

The fact that today was Christmas made everything worse. Dean had never been fond of Christmas. His biological father had walked out on him and his mother on Christmas. He had never been able to see the joy in Christmas. Walking down a corridor decorated with flashing green and red lights and with garland, tinsel, and mistletoe hanging from the ceiling had only made his insides churn.

Snogging Pansy Parkinson was healthy for him, he reasoned. And he had been in higher spirits since joining her here in their usual classroom at nine o' clock, when her prefect duties were finished for the evening.

They had been meeting secretly in this classroom for about two months. It had all started the night Dean broke up with Ginny Weasley. After sensing that the redhead had developed feelings for someone else - or perhaps she had had those feelings all along? - he had wished her luck and said that he still hoped they could be friends.

Dean hadn't been exactly heartbroken over their break up, but he still felt the need to reflect. Pansy had stumbled upon him walking the corridors after hours and had immediately threatened to take points away from him, but she was far too drunk to string the words together. He still didn't know how she had become drunk as a matter of fact or for what reason. But nevertheless, Pansy had come on to him and Dean gave in to her advances. Normally, he wouldn't fall under the spell of a Slytherin's charms, but bloody hell she had been a good kisser.

Dean had only been kissed by four women in his lifetime. His mother didn't count, so that brought the count down to three. Parvati Patil's kisses had been hard and sweet, much like the girl herself. Ginny Weasley's had been passionate, but playful.

Pansy Parkinson's kisses were full of emotion and experience. She kissed with such technique that either she had kissed a lot of boys or she practiced on objects quite a lot. Starting out very gently, her lips would barely touch his. She'd run her hands steadily up and down his sides. Her tongue would dart out and tease the skin around his lips, before she pressed her lips hard against his, taking him by surprise. Then she would allow Dean to take over briefly, knowing she was still in control.

Pansy was always in control when it came to kissing, Dean thought. His cheeks warmed up at the thought of her teeth nipping playfully at the end of his tongue. At the thought of her tongue touching his deftly, then tracing over his own teeth.

She would make sure Dean was focusing only on their mouths before she began to touch him all over his body, especially in places he wasn't normally touched. She didn't go straight for the groin - Pansy enjoyed running her fingers along his collarbone and took delight in just barely touching his knees, causing shivers of pleasure to engulf him. Pansy poured all of herself into her kisses, he had learned. Whatever she was feeling was shown in an exhibition of tangled tongues, slowly moving fingers, and hot whispers.

Some people, like Dean, expressed themselves through art. Pansy expressed herself through snogging. And it did her well, because she was most likely the best snog in Hogwarts.

Which was why Dean was growing more and more impatient as time ticked by, and the brunette continued to ignore his presence and center her attention on a hallway that was most likely empty. He couldn't take it anymore. His stamina was dangerously suffering.

Before he knew what he was doing, Dean had taken two steps toward Pansy, pulled her away from the door, and then slammed it. "What is your problem?" she demanded furiously, placing her hands firmly on her hips.

"You are," he said in a low timbre, gripping her shoulders and backing her into the door. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as her scowl remained in place. "Come on, Parkinson," he said lightly, lifting her chin, "lighten up."

She rolled her eyes, but Dean could see she was quickly becoming flustered by him. He did have her pinned against the door after all, body pressed against hers so that she couldn't escape. "Fuck you," she said, a slight quiver in her voice. He had broken through.

His lips were barely a centimeter away from hers. He could feel her hot breath on his when suddenly she shoved him away from her. "What?"

"I don't like this classroom. It's dull."

"What?" said an exasperated Dean, thrown off guard.

"Well, it is! We've been in here every night, don't you think it's time we broadened our horizons?" She raised a plucked eyebrow, her expression questioning.

Dean could only gape. "What's wrong with this place?"

Pansy scoffed. "All you Gryffindors are the same - you're so bloody boring."

"What other Gryffindors have you been with?" he retorted.

Pansy was stuck after that comment so she chose to pretend as if he hadn't made it. "Do you want to continue snogging or not?" she snapped.

Dean glared down at her 5'4 form. "Fine, whatever you say," he replied grumpily.

The two of them were halfway down the corridor when they heard noises. "I knew I heard something," Pansy muttered.

Dean made to continue walking, when Pansy closed her fingers around his wrist - in a surprisingly tender way, he thought - and pulled him back into a part of the corridor that kept them out of sight. "The two of us cannot be seen together, understand Thomas?" Dean had forgotten about that part of their agreement. It must have shown in his eyes because Pansy's eyes widened. "Dean, that was part of the contract."

"I know," he said. "Relax. Now, as the prefect here, could you please go see what the hell is going on down the hall? Our time together is wasting away."

Pansy smirked. "Aww, is the little Dean upset that he's not getting any love?"

"Shut up, Pansy, just go see - "

"Harry, please calm down!" a hysterical voice rang throughout the corridor. "He didn't mean it!"

"Didn't mean it, eh? Just like all the other times?" an angry voice yelled.

"Harry Potter?" said Pansy. "Ooh, I am definitely taking points away from him!" She excitedly jumped up, smoothed out her robes, and patted her hair in a manner that made Dean rest his head against the wall and roll his eyes. She then walked down the corridor.

Dean shifted and withdrew his wand from his pocket, lighting the tip so he could see what was going on down the corridor. They were located near Snape's dungeons, he realized with a flicker of horror. Harry, and a figure that could be no one else but Draco Malfoy stood facing each other, their bodies a foot apart. Harry was seething. Malfoy's eyes glittered maliciously, and a smirk that was much uglier than Pansy's was on his face. Dean could logically come to the assumption that Malfoy had insulted Harry's parents or some other foul thing.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor!" said Pansy in a triumphant voice when she had reached them. Dean was able to make out a third figure now. It was Ginny Weasley, standing next to Malfoy, looking irritated and worried. Pansy looked her up and down disdainfully, eyes lingering on the frayed robes that Weasleys were famous for wearing. She then turned to Harry. "Potter, I suggest you take your little girlfriend back to your House, before I take away more."

Dean was surprised when Ginny said quietly, "He's not my boyfriend" at the same time Malfoy said, "She wouldn't lower herself to the likes of Potter."

Pansy looked at Malfoy, undoubtedly curious about his statement. "What?"

"Nothing," he and Ginny said simultaneously. Pansy stamped her foot in frustration. Harry took the opportunity to frown even deeper. "Ginny," he said, eyes trained on her, "Parkinson's right. Let's head back."

"Why don't you let her make up her own mind?" said Malfoy in an irritatingly calm voice.

"Come on, Gin," said Harry. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, looking tired. Dean could feel the tension. Harry was staring at Ginny. So was Malfoy, for that matter, with a look so intense fire could have been coming out of his eyes.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ginny turned her gaze on Malfoy. "It is getting kind of late," she admitted. Malfoy looked wounded. He watched the backs of Harry and Ginny walking away with jealousy etched on his pale, pointed face. Pansy looked confused as hell and walked over to Malfoy's side.

What happened next seemed to go by in slow motion. Malfoy shoved Pansy out of the way, and she stumbled. Dean raced from his hiding spot to go to her. Malfoy yelled a curse at Harry's back - at the same time, Ginny turned around and sidestepped in front of Harry. The yellow light of the curse hit her instead. She clutched her stomach in pain and doubled over. Harry lunged at Malfoy, tackling him to the ground. Pansy screamed.

Dean rolled his eyes at her and crawled over to Ginny, who was convulsing. "Ginny?" he yelled over all the commotion. "Are you all right?" It was when he got closer that he realized that she wasn't convulsing - the girl was laughing. Laughing uncontrollably at that!

The dumb ass had hit her with a giggling curse. "Pansy?" he called weakly, wondering if she knew the countercurse. But his snog partner was too busy shrieking "Potter, get off of him! Ten points from Gryffindor! You're hurting him!" as Harry and Malfoy hit every inch of the other that they could reach.

Dean turned back to Ginny and let out a strangled yell. She was waving around her wand drunkenly. Dean knew that she was a powerful with a wand on a regular basis. He was also smart enough to deduct that even if she was powerful, using a wand while one was overcome with giggles would only produce disastrous results.

He reached out to grab the wand from her, but it was too late. It was all ready pointed at the rumbling forms of Harry and Malfoy. She yelled something Dean couldn't make out and then Harry and Malfoy sprung apart, as though Stunned.

The rest of them reacted at once. Pansy clapped her hands over her mouth in utter horror. Ginny giggled relentlessly. Dean goggled. He could hardly believe his eyes.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and Draco Malfoy, The Boy Who Lived To Be His Arch Enemy, were wearing red, sparkly tutus. He was dumbfounded.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were wearing tutus. Red. Sparkly. Tutus. He closed his eyes and opened them, but when he opened them the nightmare was still horribly real.

Harry heaved a sigh and nodded at the giggling Ginny Weasley, his suspicions confirmed. "This is all your fault, Malfoy."

"Shut up, Potty." He clutched his eye, which was badly bruised.

Pansy squealed. "Draco, are you okay?!? Ten more points from Gryffindor!"

Harry rid himself of his red tutu. Pansy noticed this and waved her wand at Draco, and his tutu disappeared as well. "You shouldn't have done that, Parkinson. He looked better with that thing on."

"Potty, I don't swing that way. So don't you ever look at me again. I know I'm hard to resist, but I'd prefer Goyle look at me like I'm a juicy piece of meat than you."

Harry looked utterly disgusted. "Shut up, Malfoy!"

"I think everyone should just shut up so we can cast the countercurse," said Dean loudly. Harry and Malfoy peered at him as if they had only noticed he was there.

"Who are you?"

"Fuck, Draco, what does it matter?" interjected Pansy coolly. "He's right. We need to shut her up."

"Too much for your dog ears to handle, Parkinson?" Harry said spitefully.

"Hey, shut up! Don't say that about her," Dean remarked angrily. This sent Ginny into another fit of giggles.

"Why not?" he said grumpily. "Just a week ago, you told me she was a dog eared, pug faced slut."

"What?" gasped Pansy. Dean opened his mouth to explain, but Pansy slapped him hard across the face. It stung unlike anything he had ever felt. Why, he didn't exactly know.

"Pansy, please!" he pleaded, as she walked stiffly away, tears in her eyes. "I didn't mean it, of course! It was a bloody cover-up!" But she had disappeared from sight. Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Thanks a lot for that, Harry," he snapped.

Harry looked utterly confused. "What did I do?" he said. His scowl deepened. Obviously everyone was out to get him.

Malfoy let out a tut. "You were born, Potter."

Ginny giggled. "Now, now, Draco - don't say things like that to Harry..." She burst out laughing. Malfoy looked at the redhead a bit fondly. "Oh, Ginevra, you are in a right state, aren't you?" He pointed his wand at her and said the countercurse.

"Thanks," she said, a bit breathlessly. She finally looked at Dean who was fuming. "Did I miss something?"

"Harry completely ruined my relationship with Parkinson!" Dean yelled angrily.

Ginny stepped back. "Relationship?" she asked.

"YES!" he roared. "IT CONSTITUTED OF SNOGGING!"

"I wouldn't steal Potty's caps lock if I was you," said Malfoy. "He doesn't like that much."

"Choke on dung," Harry aimed at the blonde. He looked at Dean. "Snogging?" he repeated, taking on the expression of a little boy lost in a lingerie section.

"Yes, Potter, snogging," said Malfoy. "That thing everyone else but you engages in."

"Draco," said Ginny, her eyes narrowed.

"Pansy is a wicked kisser, isn't she?" he continued, a reminiscent smirk on his face. "Don't know why she'd choose you to snog, though."

Dean stiffened. Ginny became defensive on his behalf. "For your information, Dean is a brilliant kisser!"

Malfoy's eyes flashed. "You've snogged this wanker?" He glared at Ginny with betrayal.

Ginny's own eyes flashed. "Don't even start yelling at me! You snogged a cow!"

Dean interjected, "If you're talking about Pansy - "

"SHUT UP!" yelled Harry.

The three others turned to look at him. "What the bleeding hell is your problem, Potter? Can't you allow others to hold civil conversation without feeling neglected?"

"Someone's coming this way, Ferret," retorted Harry, "but by all means, do us all a favor and get caught. You won't be missed."

Malfoy's cheeks went a light shade of pink. "I am a prefect, Potty."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Jolly for you, Malfoy! When you caught, you can take points away from the Professor!" Malfoy flushed. "Come on Harry." She and Harry ran down the corridor.

"This is the end of our relationship, Ginevra, I hope you're aware of that!" Malfoy called after them, looking ready to lash out at something.

"Relationship?" Dean said bewilderedly.

"YES!" yelled the blonde. "IT CONSTITUTED OF SNOGGING!"

"Might not want to steal Harry's caps lock," Dean suggested.

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of footsteps stopped him. In two seconds, he had run away from Dean in the opposite direction that Ginny and Harry had gone down.

Wonderful, thought Dean. I'm going to get caught. He started walking, trying to find a place to hide, when all of a sudden he tripped and landed on his back. Hard. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, dimly noting that he was picking up Pansy's speech patterns.

He tried to sit up, but two hands had clasped around his ankle. Before he could do anything, he was being dragged. Dean began to kick his legs around and heard a surprised squeal. "Fine!" screamed a voice that Dean quickly registered as being Pansy's, "stay out and here and get caught!" She stormed away from him and into the classroom she had dragged him in front of.

Dean scrambled to stand up. "Parkinson, wait! Are we in the dungeons?" Looking around the Potions classroom, Dean felt properly sick to his stomach. Why the hell had she brought him into Snape's classroom, of all places? He followed Pansy down a line of shelves that had odd, slippery substances living in jars and into Snape's office.

"Pansy," squeaked Dean, "you've gone mental! We can't hide in here! He's probably going to come in here!"

"Therefore he won't expect us to be in here," Pansy reasoned. "I see intellect doesn't go hand in hand with bravery."

Dean was hurt by the remark. "Pansy - "

"I'm hiding in the here," she said abruptly, indicating Snape's wardrobe. "You find another spot." She shoved past him, nose high in the air, and opened the door to the wardrobe.

"Come on, Parkinson," he said, but she merely climbed inside the wardrobe, gave him a haughty eyebrow raised look, and slammed the door.

Dean let out a strangled yell when he realized that there weren't any other hiding spots. His frustration mounted - frustration at Harry for making that stupid comment, frustration at Snape for putting him in his current position, and frustration at Pansy for being so stubborn.

He was also pissed off at himself. Why had he allowed himself to be so affected by Pansy? He was always counting down the minutes to their snog time, not caring about anything else. When had he started letting her control his emotions? This wasn't fair - he shouldn't be feeling sad and angry and frustrated because of her. She shouldn't be able to dictate his emotions as if he was some puppet on a string. That, he thought angrily, was probably exactly what she wanted out this relationship in the first place. He was just some wanker she could control. He was putty in her hands.

Well, no more. Dean was fed up. He was bleeding sick of it. He wrenched open the door to the wardrobe almost violently and stepped inside. Pansy beat against his chest with her fists, trying to keep him out. The sight of her angry face brought him a tiny bit of pleasure. Dean let her struggle against him for a while. "Get out!" she squealed over and over.

"No," he said coldly, "you get out. This wardrobe isn't big enough for the both of us." He grabbed her balled fists and opened the door, pushing her out of it. He grinned satisfactorily as he shut the door and turned the lock, leaving Pansy with nowhere to hide and no way to get back in.

She pounded the door in a panicked fury. "I hate you!" she cried angrily. "Open this door right now, Dean, or you'll regret it!"

"Is that a threat?" he said, amused despite it all. "And from Slytherin's own princess."

"Open the door, Thomas," she said dangerously through gritted teeth.

"I don't think I will. Why should I, after all? There isn't anything in it for me."

"If you do not let me in by the time I count to three, when Snape catches me, which he undoubtedly will, I am so bringing you down with me. Got it?"

Dean was silent. He hadn't thought of that at all. "One..."

"Oh, fuck," he said. Grudgingly, he opened the door. Pansy's arms were crossed and a smirk adorned her mouth, lighting her brown eyes up with complacency. "There, there, Dean, no need to resort to foul language. It doesn't suit you."

She stepped into the wardrobe, and he closed the door. Dean briefly wondered if he was claustrophobic, because Pansy was so close to him he could hardly breathe. Her body was pressed up against his. "Move over," she hissed, her breath tickling his ear. He wished he had the means to scratch his ear, for it was now tingling all over.

"You move over," he shot back. "There isn't any room over here for me to move over."

"Well, there isn't any room over here either!" Pansy said testily.

There was a long pause. The sounds of their heavy breathing bounced of the confined walls of the wardrobe. Dean was starting to get hot. "Is that your hand?" Pansy demanded.

"It's my leg," he said. "You're practically sitting in my lap."

"Fuck you."

"Sorry, love, but no thanks. I'm breaking up with you."

Pansy's body tensed against his. "You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I am breaking up with you."

Dean chuckled. "You can't do that."

"Watch me." Her voice was tight.

"I would, but in case you hadn't noticed for yourself, it's a bit dark."

Pansy pinched him in a part of his body that made him squeal in pain. "That's for calling me a slut, you wanker."

"It was a cover-up," Dean wheezed. "You're the one who made me sign that bloody contract! You're the one who so bloody worried about what the others would think about us! You didn't want anyone to know, Parkinson, so what else was I supposed to do?" Pansy's response was a loud huff. "Oh, come on, Pansy, don't even pretend as if you've never called me a bad name! Does Mudblood ring a bell by any chance?"

"Calling someone a slut is far worse than calling someone a Mudblood!" snapped Pansy.

"Saying 'Mudblood' is prejudice!"

"So what?"

"It's mean!"

"So is being called a slut!"

After another long silence, Dean whispered, "I don't think you're a slut if it's any consolation."

"I don't think you're a Mudblood," she responded awkwardly. Dean chuckled. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because I am...well, a Mudblood."

Pansy shrugged. "Maybe it can be a pet name."

A pet name? That sounded good to him. Perhaps they could revise it a little...? Dean's eyes widened slightly. If there had been light in the wardrobe, Pansy would have seen the wide grin spread across his face as he was hit over the head with a sudden realization.

He was falling for Pansy Parkinson. He was falling in love with Pansy Parkinson. No, he was in love with her all ready. He had fallen a long time ago.

Dean bent down his head and kissed her. It was a rather sloppy kiss, of course, because he couldn't see her, but he was pleased all the time. Pansy broke the kiss a moment later. "We're fighting, or did you forget?"

"I don't care. I love you, Parkinson."

She was absolutely silent after this declaration, but he didn't care. He actually preferred that she was quiet. Dean reached out his hand to touch her face, feeling the smooth skin along his palm. He moved his fingers across the length of her face, over her nose and finally running them gently along her lips.

"What the fuck are you doing?" said Pansy, her voice cracking with passion. Dean cupped her face with his hands.

"Shhh," whispered Dean. A second later something wet fell onto the tips of his fingers. He reached his hands up to gently caress her eyelids before wiping away her tears. He dearly hoped he wouldn't accidentally poke a finger into her eye. Nothing good could result from that. Besides, she was scared. Not of him poking her in the eye, but of his confession. It was a lot for one person to handle. Poking her in the eye would only add more problems.

"Dean..." she said shakily, bringing him out of his reverie. She clasped his fingers in hers and leaned closer to him. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you your Christmas present," was his muffled reply before he crushed his lips down to hers. Heat sprang through his body like wildfire as Pansy responded back, tangling her tongue furiously with his, giving all of herself to him. He curled an arm around her waist and tried to bring her closer to him, though she was all ready about as close as she could possibly get.

Pansy abruptly threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her fingers moving tenderly about the nape of his neck. Her legs went around his waist as she did so. The force of this movement threw open the door of the wardrobe - quite viciously, as a matter of fact - and the two of them tumbled to the ground. Dean landed rather hard on his back, but he didn't care because all he was focusing on was the feel of Pansy's lips on his skin.

This was how Professor Severus Snape found them not a minute later. "FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!" he roared.

Dean and Pansy sprang apart at once, and stood up, robes askew on their bodies and their skin flushed. "Er...what about Slytherin, sir?" inquired Pansy, a bit slyly.

Snape glared at her. "AND SLYTHERIN! NOT TO MENTION A MONTH'S WORTH OF DETENTIONS FROM THE BOTH OF YOU!" he spat.

Pansy smirked. "Looking forward to it."

Dean gazed at her curiously when she took his hand in hers. Her smirk blossomed into a smile. He had never seen her smile before.

"OFF TO YOUR DORMITORIES!" yelled Snape.

Dean grinned at the Professor, because he had stolen Harry's caps lock. Then he grinned at Pansy, his very own Slytherin princess. She gave him a sly wink.

"Happy Christmas!" they called on the way out of the dungeons, hands still locked together.

Dean's last thought before falling asleep that night was that maybe Christmas wasn't so bad after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Title: Remembering Percy

For: _byakko

Couple: Percy/Penelope

Place: Percy's new apartment

Time of the Day: Evening

Ages: Percy - 19, Penny - 18

Word Limit: 1500

3 Must Haves: Penelope must mention Molly sending Percy a Weasley sweater, ice cream, clock

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Percy Ignatius Weasley looked at peace when he was sleeping. It was the only time he ever seemed to be fully relaxed. The muscles in his face were not tight at all as they were during the day, and his jaw was not clenched. His shocking red hair was not combed thoroughly, but rather, it was spread out across the white pillows in disarray. His eyelids were closed, hiding the normally hardened blue orbs.

His girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, stood at the door of his bedroom and sighed. What on earth had happened to him, she found herself thinking, not for the first time. He had once been so free and happy and good. Now it seemed as if he was only like that when he was sleeping.

Penelope slowly walked over to Percy's bedroom window and peered out. It was nearly pitch black outside, with only the streetlamps lit. Soon, however, those would automatically go out. Rain was coming down with fervor but there was no sign on lightning or even thunder. The only way you could tell that there was any type of storm going on was by the tall trees swaying violently from side to side.

She closed the curtains and walked closer to Percy. She was only inches away from his bedside when she noticed something glinting up at her from the floor. Bending down, Penelope's fingers closed around Percy's horn rimmed glasses. They were broken in half, she saw. Tears nearly sprung to her eyes at the thought. She set the glasses on his nightstand, next to his alarm clock. It was 11:15.

An armchair sat in the corner of the room, next to a floor lamp. It was the chair Percy sat in when he wasn't quite ready to turn in for the night. Penelope's chest heaved. She didn't want to leave this room yet. To be honest, she didn't want to leave Percy yet. It only seemed natural to sit down in the chair.

However, she couldn't bring herself to look at Percy's sleeping form again, so her eyes drifted down to her lap. Her fingers played with the material of the dress robes she had worn that evening. The evening was still fresh in her mind. Percy humiliating her in front of his coworkers...herself demanding an explanation to his recent behavior...

Penelope closed her eyes tightly, trying to erase the images from her mind. The hateful things they had said to each other. Instead, she focused on the happier times. Back when Percy was still, naturally, a git, but a loveable one. Back when he was happy...

Almost - she was nearly there, she almost had it - her fingers were only centimeters away from it...

CRASH!

Penelope had lurched forward and then slammed into the bookshelf. Before she could even think, she slipped from the stool she was standing on and fell backwards. Right into the bookshelf behind her. The impact shook the rackety thing, and a great deal of the books toppled down onto her. One particularly fat volume fell on top of her head. She wasn't the least surprised when stars danced before her eyes.

"Oh bollocks," she whimpered softly, reaching up to touch her head. Yep, she thought, as she ran her fingers over the all ready forming lump, she was going to wake up with a major headache tomorrow morning.

Penelope was just about ready to stand up when a voice rang out in the library. "Who's there?" it demanded. Penelope froze. She was done for. She was going to get caught being out of bed after hours, and oh no, points were going to be deducted...

"Who is there?" said the voice again - a boy's voice, she noted - now clearly agitated.

Penelope let out a tiny sigh and buried her head in her hands. "Over here," she mumbled through her fingers, defeated.

Footsteps raced toward her. The voice said, "Lumos", illuminating the entire section of the library they were in. "Well, who are you? Take your fingers away from your face," said the boy.

Penelope lifted her head and removed her fingers, and gaped slightly at the boy standing in front of her. He was tall and lanky, with a brilliantly freckled face and bright, red hair. A prefect's badge was gleaming on the chest of his Hogwarts robes, and she nearly let out a groan. Cripes, she really was going to get into trouble.

"I can explain," she said at once. "You see, I was - "

"What are you doing out of bed, in the library, after hours?" he said, looking down at her.

Penelope became curiously aware that she was only in her pajamas and a blush spread across her cheeks. "I was just about to tell you," she said, hoping he didn't pick up on how dreadfully embarrased she was. The boy's eyebrows raised slightly, as if he wasn't used to being talked back to. "I was here for a bit of late night reading. Obviously. I mean, I am in the library, aren't I? Though it seems as if my plans came tumbling down right on top of me."

She could smack herself at the pun. He was going to think she was being sarcastic and even more points would be taken away. Goodness, what would her housemates say? But to her surprise, the boy let out a small chuckle. He quickly recovered, and said, "Nothing gives a Hogwarts student permission to roam the halls at night."

She sighed. "I know," she mumbled. No longer able to look him in the eye, Penelope glanced down at the books still lying all over her. She started to push them away from her.

"Oh, are you all right?" the boy asked worriedly, as if he had just only noticed she was buried underneath books.

"Peachy. Honestly. A bit bruised, perhaps..." She stood up, but as soon as she did so, a wave of nausea waved over her. Her long legs failed her and she dizzily collapsed into the prefect's arms. He steadied her and helped her to walk over to a library table.

"Here, sit down."

"But I want to clean up the books - "

"No," he insisted, hands on her shoulders to keep her seated in the chair. "I'll get the books. You just sit."

Penelope was taken by his calm voice, and even more so when he dashed to where the books lie scattered all over the floor. He picked them up and put them back on the top shelf.

"Thanks," she told him when he was finished.

"Not at all," he said, smiling at her. He had a rather nice smile, she thought. It lit up his eyes. Rather nice eyes, too, come to think about it. Nice and blue. She grinned back at him. It was only when he cleared his throat that she realized it was somewhat of a goofy smile. My, she just couldn't stop embarrasing herself, could she?

"Your name is?" he prompted.

"Penelope Clearwater. I'm in fourth year."

"Percy Weasley. I'm in fifth. And a prefect." He held out his right hand. Penelope shook it, then pulled away when her cheeks began to warm. She didn't catch on to the fact that his cheeks were bright red as well.

"You're going to take points from me, aren't you?" she asked.

Percy Weasley smiled at her again. She came to the conclusion that he was just going to stop smiling if it made her stomach flutter every time. "No, I am not. I should, though. But considering that I was also out of bed after hours..."

"Really?" she said.

He pointed his wand and said, "Accio!" A book came whizzing round the corner and into his outstretched hand.

"So I wasn't the only one doing a bit of late night reading, eh?" said Penelope.

He let out a chuckle. "Apparently not."

Penelope's mouth quirked into a small smile, remembering. He had been so easy going back then. In the past year or so, he had turned into a mess. If the present day Percy had caught her in the library bookshelves, she doubted he would have let her leave the library without taking fifty points. He was such a bloody git now.

Her fingers glided once again over the smooth material of her dress robes. She and Percy had attended a Christmas Ball at the Ministry of Magic and he had utterly humilated her.

The evening had started out well. He had even brought her a corsage. Once at the Ball, however, he left her side to be with his esteemed colleagues. He ignored her for nearly an hour before she had confronted him about it...

"Ah, well, thanks for listening, Penny."

"You're welcome, Ludo. But I really must find my - " Penelope paused. " - Percy." She excused herself from Ludo Bagman's side and looked over the room for Percy. He was standing in the corner, laughing heartily at something one of his coworkers had said. Penelope fought the urge to roll her eyes. She doubted whatever had been said had been funny.

When she reached the group, she realized that it had been Percy himself who had been cracking the jokes. Penelope laughed politely and interrupted with, "Percy, could I have a word?"

Percy stopped laughing immediately and looked her hard in the eyes. "Not now, Penelope, please," he whispered.

"I'm sure they don't mind," she whispered back, though she knew the other men could hear every word.

"Penelope!" he snapped. She blinked, startled. He lowered his voice, for the men had stopped talking amongst themselves. "Why don't you go talk with the other wives?"

She felt as if she had been slapped in the face. "How dare you," she hissed. Percy looked confused. "First of all, I am not your wife. I am your girlfriend! Secondly, I did not come to this stupid party - "

"Stupid?"

" - Yes, stupid! And I did not come here to be ignored. I support you, Percy, but I am tired of being ignored."

Percy puffed out his chest in a dignified manner. "We will talk about this later, Penelope."

"No!"

"Yes, and that's final. I think you've carried on enough for one night, don't you think?" The glare he gave her then was so hard Penelope almost shivered. Her hands trembled slightly with anger. "Do we understand each other?"

Penelope opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get a word out, he had all ready walked back to his colleagues.

Penelope trained her eyes on the pattern of Percy's bedroom walls. They were absolutely bare. But she'd rather look at the boring walls than at Percy. She had been so bloody humiliated at that stupid Ball. He hadn't even danced with her. Not that she had particularly cared to dance with him after what he had said to her.

Penelope thought his treatment of her lately had been rather poor payment for the four years of her life that she had dedicated to him. As much as she didn't care to admit it, Percy had turned into a stranger right before her very eyes and she hadn't noticed.

A thunderclap sounded outside.

It was 11:30.

"Penny!"

The sound of her boyfriend's excited voice immediately caught her attention. Penelope turned around and saw him standing on the other side of the ice cream shop.

"Percy!"

They walked rather quickly to each other and Penelope threw her arms around her neck, hugging him tightly. She had missed him quite a lot. She'd been counting down the days to seeing him again on her calendar and now he was actually here, flesh and blood in front of her.

"Ahem," said a voice. Percy and Penelope broke apart, blushing hard. Florean Fortescue was looking at them, the corners of his lips ready to quirk into a smile. "May I help you?"

"Oh, yes!" she and Percy responded at the same time. They exchanged a nervous look. Penelope felt her hands shake slightly as he asked Florean Fortescue for a peanut butter scoop of ice cream. Percy ordered the same.

Once they had gotten their orders, Percy held out his large, freckled hand. Penelope looked down at it and grasped it in her own, letting out a happy noise. They settled down at a table outdoors and sat down next to each other, hands still linked.

"So how was your summer?" Percy asked, licking his ice cream cone.

Penelope felt her heart beating furiously against her ribcage as extremely naughty thoughts sprang to her mind. She cleared her throat and looked down at her own ice cream cone. "Er...well, it was sort of boring, you know. I worked alongside my mum and dad at their jobs. Oh! I made my very own recipe."

Percy looked interested. "Really?"

"It's peanut brittle ice cream!" she said excitedly, licking her ice cream eagerly. "But it tastes so much better than this. It's actual peanut brittle bits mixed in with vanilla ice cream. Percy, it's wicked tasty. You'll have to try some eventually."

"Definitely," he agreed, licking his ice cream again.

There was a bit of a silence between them. Next moment, Percy squeezed Penelope's hand gently and leaned over. His lips touched her cheek briefly before he pulled away, the tips of his ears bright red.

Penelope could tell he felt a bit awkward, so she did the first thing that came to mind. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek as well, allowing her lips to linger longer on his cheek. She pulled back, her own ear tips red.

Penelope let out a soft chuckle at the rememberance of the beginning stages of their relationship. They'd been shy and nervous back then, and rightfully so. Both of them didn't do anything in half measures. They knew that if they were going to have a relationship, it was going to be serious. They took it slowly, very slowly. So slowly, in fact, that they didn't actually have a blown out snogging session until the Christmas of that year.

Penelope had brought Percy some of her famous ice cream that day and he had loved it. He didn't much like it anymore...

"Percy, I am speaking to you!"

He responded by slamming the door in her face. Penelope shut her eyes tightly, trying to compose herself. When she opened them, she looked to the heavens and took a couple of deep breaths.

The smell of rain was in the air.

She withdrew her wand from her cloack and pointed it at the door. "Alohomora!" she said. The door swung open and she stepped inside Percy's flat. It was pitch black. "Lumos!" The tip of her wand glowed.

She could make out Percy in the kitchen, undoing the clasp of his cloak. "Percy," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Look at me."

Percy turned around slowly. His face was shadowed by the light. "I do not want you in this flat, Penelope. I would appreciate it if you would leave."

"No," she said coldly. "We need to talk about this, Percy. I am so sick of being treated the way I have been lately. I canceled Christmas with my parents to be with you, hoping that perhaps the holiday would straighten things out between us." Her breath caught in her throat, and she blinked back tears. "All you've done is act like an asshole."

"Watch your language," Percy said wearily, looking tired.

"No," she said firmly. "It's how I feel! I refuse to hold it in any longer, Percy! You expect me to lead this life where I'm seen and not heard, and maybe that's how all of your friends' girlfriends are, but I won't do it."

Percy sighed and pushed his glasses on his nose. "You're right. What I just said was just wrong. I am sorry. And I can see that you are tired, upset, and rambling. Why don't you rest and we can talk about this tomorrow." He reached forward to touch her shoulder in what he obviously thought was a comforting manner, but Penelope flinched.

"Have you listened to a word I've been saying?!"

"Penny - "

"No, do not call me Penny!" She couldn't believe he'd try to draw the attention away from the conversation by calling her by the nickname he'd given her.

"Penelope, I really don't have time for this right now..."

"You never have any time," she said scathingly, shoving past him. She walked to the freezer and took out the bucket of vanilla ice cream, then threw it onto the counter.

For the next couple of seconds she fumbled around Percy's kitchen, slamming cupboard drawers. "Of course you don't have peanut brittle! Why would you?" she muttered sarcastically, just loud enough for Percy to hear.

"Penelope - "

"I don't want to hear it!" she said, waving her spoon around for emphasis. "Why the hell should I listen to you when you don't return the favor?

Percy was silent. Penelope watched him out of the corner of her eye. He loosened the collar of his robes and kicked off his shoes. Then, he looked at her sadly, picked up the Daily Prophet, and sat down in a chair to read.

Penelope had to smile wryly at the thought. She had finally stood up to Percy tonight, and hadn't allowed him to get a word in. There was a strange satisfaction in knowing that he had received a taste of his own medicine. But there was also a deep feeling of regret and guilt knawing at the back of her mind. She was sure that tomorrow, on Christmas day, things would be different. And not for the better.

Penelope didn't like the feeling at all. Why should she feel guilty? Was she honestly going to take his abuse for the rest of her life? What was scary was that she found herself thinking, yes, she would have. If she hadn't stood up to Percy tonight, she probably wouldn't have. Penelope loved Percy with every fibre of her soul, and though she was strong, it took a lot for her to stand up to people. Percy, to add to this, was not a regular person.

He was Percy. The man who had once genuinely cared for her and was willing to listen to what she had to say. The man who had cared for his family so much that he'd talk about them endlessly, even if outwardly he didn't express his feelings. The man who had been hardworking, but knew when enough was enough. The man who used to kiss her as if she was a fragile butterfly. The man who had given her his heart. The man who had somehow managed to steal hers. Percy.

A lightning bolt lit up the sky.

It was 11:45.

"Ooh, Percy, look!" Penelope pecked him on the lips as he looked up to see mistletoe above them.

"I hope that wasn't my only Christmas present," he said, grinning.

"And I hope that that statement wasn't meant to be taken the way I'm thinking it was," Penelope said, smiling back.

Percy blushed bright red. "It wasn't! Honest."

"I know," she said, reaching out to pick up a present from the pile in front of him. "Hmmm, I wonder what this is?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "I bet you anything it's the Weasley jumper."

Penelope raised her eyebrows. "A Weasley jumper?"

Percy took the package from her. "How could you not know about the Weasley jumper? You're supposed to know these things."

"Oh, hush," she muttered.

She watched as Percy undid the string on the package and then opened it. He was always very meticulous about opening presents. He didn't just rip into the present as most people did. He gently opened the present as if glass was inside and actually folded the wrapping paper into a square. Penelope found it very annoying, yet oddly amusing.

Eventually he pulled out a yellow jumper and smiled fondly. "Each of us have a different color," he boasted.

"Well, put it on then," said Penelope. Percy obeyed, pulling the jumper over his pajamas. "It suits you," she told him honestly. The yellow blended nicely against his hair and made his eyes sparkle.

"You'll get one, too," he said proudly.

"What?"

Percy turned magenta. "Well, that is...if we ever marry, I suppose."

Now it was Penelope's turn to change color. She was surprised that Percy would insinuate marriage so young - it was such a serious commitment! - but inwardly she was secretly pleased. She could definitely see herself as Percy Weasley's wife, sitting next to him on Christmas, wearing a Weasley jumper. What color would hers be, she wonderd? Lilac? Soft brown?

"Penny," said Percy, sounding awkward. "I didn't mean to -"

"Don't apologize, Percy," said Penelope, placing a finger over his lips. "I think I'd very much like to have a Weasley jumper someday."

"You would?"

She smiled. "Of course."

Penelope shut her eyelids tightly, willing the tears brimming behind them not to fall. She didn't want to cry over the fact that she would never get a Weasley jumper. She didn't want to cry over Percy anymore.

But she couldn't help herself.

After she had finished her ice cream, Penelope went into the sitting room. Percy was still reading in his armchair, but she pretended he wasn't there and made her way over to the Christmas tree.

She'd put up all the Christmas decorations all by herself the day before. Percy had been working, naturally. Now she wanted to see how good her hard work looked. After plugging the cord into an outlet, the lights on the Christmas tree came on, illuminating the room.

"What do you think, Percy?" she asked hesistantly. He didn't reply so she tried again. "Percy, I asked you what you think."

"I was under the impression you did not want to have a civilized conversation with me," he answered tightly.

"You got the wrong impression, then. That's all I've ever wanted to do. But lately, you are incapable of listening to anyone other than yourself."

"That's uncalled for, Penelope." His cheeks were red with anger.

"No it's not!" she said. "You have something shoved so far up your arse that you don't even decorate for Christmas anymore! You see this, Percy?" She reached underneath the Christmas tree and dangled a package into his face. "Inevitably, this is the famous Weasley jumper. I bet you don't even want it, do you?"

"No, I do not," he said coldly. "They are not my family anymore."

"Am I your family anymore?" she said quickly.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

Penelope felt her eyes brim with tears. "I don't understand you anymore, Percy." Her voice cracked, "Send it back."

"Pardon?"

She glared at him and threw the packaged Weasley jumper at his chest. "I said send it back. Don't make them think that you still care when you obviously don't."

Not looking at him, she ran to the guest bedroom, tripping slightly over her own feet, and slammed the door.

Penelope wiped away her tears and stood up from the chair. Trembling, she walked over to Percy and kissed him softly on the head. "Goodbye Percy," she whispered, touching a lock of his red hair for the last time.

With that, she left Percy Weasley's flat and stepped out into the raging thunderstorm.

It was Christmas day.