but that will never be enough

“          five     minutes     ,     huh          ?          ”          it     comes     out     as     a     low     ,     impressed     whistle     /     a     secret     shared     between     the     two     of     them     ,     passed     between     holy     palms     and     𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍     smiles     alike     .     isn’t     that     how     it’s     ALWAYS     worked     between     the     two     of     them     ,     something     so     intimate     and     delicate          ?          “          i     think     it     was     overdue     an     hour     ago     ,     when     she     was     babbling     to     dad     about     god     knows     what     .     he     won’t     tell     me     what     it     was     ,     but     he     𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃     a     fair     bit     .          ”

it’s about five minutes before closing & penelope has been far from the front line today. cooped up in her office, half-doing some boring administrative work but mostly getting her thumb into some of the new books waiting to land on the shelves. she has detached from her desk, finally, and, embracing the somewhat-batty vibe that she unintentionally seems to fall into, is now wandering the shelves, diary in one hand with the other drifting just in front of the spines of the books surrounding her. 

homemade     scarf     wrapped     tight     around     the     column     of     a     (     recovering     /     honey     -     coated     /     spell     -     coddled     )     throat     ,     percy     doesn’t     know     who     he’s     cursing     more     .     sure     ,     ginny     and     ron     encouraged     him     unmercifully     ;     the     three     of     them     ,     bruised     and     entirely     too     mirthful     under     𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐𝘩𝑓𝑢𝑙     gazes     ,     filling     out     their     quibbler     forms     and     trading     playful     barbs     .     he     takes     comfort     that     they’re     on     their     own     dates     now     /     aware     of     the     imminent     retelling     of     their     evenings     .     there’s     a     BITING     WIND     that’s     pinched     the     tip     of     his     nose     pink     ;     the     warmth     of     the     three     broomsticks     beckons     as     he     falls     to     a     𝙿𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙴     before     it     .    

(     it’s     now     or     never     ,     right     ?     the     door     hasn’t     EVER     felt     this     heavy     .     why     are     nerves     frantic     butterflies     underneath     his     lungs     ,     𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠     them     with     relentless     fervor     ?     )

deep     breath     .     he’ll     push     open     the     door     ,     scan     the     room     —     -     oh     .     butterflies     be     DAMNED     ,     a     relieved     kind     of     𝒋𝒐𝒚     takes     their     place     in     a     too     -     tight     chest     .     percy     won’t     even     try     to     hide     the     wide     ,     boyish     smile     that     stretches     from     bitten     lips     right     into     his     eyes     as     he     picks     his     way     through     the     bar     .     doesn’t     need     to     check     the     crumpled     slip     in     his     hands     /     knows     in     his     gut     that     of     course     ,     of     course     it     could     only     be     penelope     on     the     other     side     of     the     table     .          “     i     don’t     suppose     that     seat     is     taken     .     ”

the  pink  slip  (  and  the  event  itself  )  long  forgotten  ,  it  takes  a  moment  or  two  too  long  before  penelope  realises  she’s  been  spoken  to . the  shadow  percy  cast  over  her  wasn’t  dark  enough  to  necessitate  glancing  up  immediately  .  his  boyish  smile  ,  still  so  familiar  &  still  so  devastating  ,  feels  like  stars  bursting  behind  her  eyes  /  feels  like  being  sixteen  &  infatuated  again  /  feels  like  unwinding  &  deshelling  the  beautiful  boy  in  the  library  &  being  as  wrapped  around  his  pinky  finger  as  he  is  around  yours  .  there’s  a  beat  (  filled  with  an  uncontrolled  smile  that  needed  no  direction  to  spring  to  her  face  )  as  her  mind  catches  up  to  the  present  ,  and  there’s  a  flush  to  her  cheeks  as  she  realises  she’s  been  somewhat  asked  a  question.

“  of  course  not  .  ”  her  passion  for  dracula  long  forgotten  ,  the  book  thumps  onto  the  table  in  front  of  her  as  she  frees  her  hands  ,  stands  from  her  seat  and  laughs  awkwardly  because  she’s  instinctively  gone  to  pull  the  seat  out  for  him  .  there’s  danger  in  these  interactions  ,  she  can  never  think  clearly  for  long  after  he’s  left  her  presence  ,  but  the  DELIGHT  when  she’s  living  in  them  can’t  be  hidden  &  can’t  be  reasoned  away  .  a  future  penelope  ,  curled  in  her  window  seat  and  insomnia  -  ridden  ,  will  think  over  this  moment  and  will  deduce  that  she  doesn’t  deserve  this  joy  /  will  wax  soliloquies  about  the  monster  in  her  chest  &  its  tendency  to  rip  apart  everything  she  tries  to  be  worthy  of  .  but  for  now  ,  for  now  she  sinks  into  her  starstruck  role  as  if  the  glitter  on  her  dress  has  filled  her  lungs  and  lit  her  up  from  the  inside  . 

close enough gang 🤝

this is SUCH a hard question because i feel like penelope's trust is both easily won AND near impossible to earn at the same time.

on a GOOD DAY, all someone would have to do is be nice & come off as genuine , there's a tendency towards thinking the very best of people that has been, gradually & then all at once, worn down into something far more pointed, far sharper.

a latecomer to the memorials, penelope has always been keenly aware of her presence there. unable to stomach the trip ( both physically & down memory lane ) for the first couple of years , it is easy for the feeling of not belonging here to rise up to the surface : for one , she’d been stood the other side of the magical protections around the castle until the last possible minute. her feet tread lightly throughout the corridors of hogwarts ( it is a masterclass of choking nostalgia , as it always seems to be ) and she is much more external here now than she would have even entertained being in her own schooling years.

acutely aware she is possibly treading on a MOMENT , penelope moves to stand beside someone she recognises as a peer from those days – he was several years ahead of her, but the familiar face tampers some of the nerves that have her so on edge. “isn’t it strange?” her voice is light as she extends the small talk across the distance between them. “how little has changed? it’s been so long.”

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗          :           the     three     broomsticks   !  𝚏𝚘𝚛          :           @pclearwaters​​​​      . 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜         :           closed   .

drifting     to     penelope’s     side     is     inevitable     ,     really     .     there     are     only     so     many     mundane     conversations     to     be     had     ,     so     many     grimaces     hid     behind     drained     glasses     of     whatever     keeps     finding     its     way     into     his     𝐻𝐴𝑁𝐷     .     once     percy     excuses     himself     from     the     bar     ,     it’s     altogether     too     easy     to     find     his     way     through     the     throng     of     funeralgoers     ,     to     park     himself     at     penelope’s     left     .          “          how     long     do     you     think     it’ll     be     before     𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚖     𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊     has     to     cut     madam     pomfrey     off     ?          ”

“well— what is grieving going to do about it, you know?”  nicolas shrugged, “i’m not saying that to be mean or anything. just — realistic. sobbing and sulking and walking around like the weight of the world suddenly dropped on your shoulders. oh, and more importantly, it definitely won’t bring her back so-.” nicolas made a way of her hand, gesturing for the bartender to bring him another drink. “we should just be happy to have known sybil, was a part of her journey of life and that she made a difference somehow, yeah?”

he didn’t think he sounded harsh. he was being honest. one hundred percent honest. he raised a hand in mock defeat at the other’s expression. “you’re saying i’m wrong? or are you agreeing with me here?” he leaned in, eyebrows arched. “c’mon. be honest. no one’s listening in on our conversation.”

penelope is stunned into a silence – but her face is probably giving away her thoughts. she’s uncomfortable – to say the least – in a shirt borrowed from tempest and, despite her best efforts to not dress ‘overly flashy’, feeling somewhat... overdressed. she HAD, however, seen a couple of more sultry outfits from the crowd gathered, so perhaps she should be a bit easier on herself.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NOX !!!!         /              DAY ONE : 7/7 INCORRECT QUOTES

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NOX !!!!         /              DAY ONE : 3/7 INCORRECT QUOTES

things are hectic and it doesn’t quite tinge penelope’s skin the right way : where others may thrive, she found the instinct to hide grow ever more potent. so she left the shop in the hands of a capable, eager youngling that she should really remember the name of ( it’s something about the charge in the air that she can’t conjure it from the depths ; unless the kids are determined to not be known, she finds herself needy to know them ). and she’s a shopper for the day ; with half her mind back in the store, thinking about the promotions and whether they’ll break even , when flourish & blotts can afford to cut their prices even deeper and stay afloat. she isn’t looking where she’s going, too caught up in business-orientated thoughts that leave her lightheaded and none the wiser, and it’s this that causes the bump into another.

the three broomsticks would not have been penelope’s first choice ( nor her last – there would be time later to be grateful that she hadn’t ended up on a date at the poison apple ) – but moving throughout the once-familiar streets of hogsmeade was pleasantly nostalgic in a way she hadn’t expected. the snow had always fallen so prettily here, and though it had been threatening that way recently, it was disappointing that there wasn’t a white dusting to the cobbled streets today.

pink slip clutched a tad too tightly, cursing tempest on repeat in her head, penelope pushed against the heavy door of the pub. she’d chosen one of her audacious starry dresses, one that got paraded often enough to be a signature outfit, because it made her feel AT HOME in her body. she’d arrived around half-an-hour early, not wanting to be the one caught out at their table – so penelope settled in and made herself truly comfortable there.

bram stoker’s dracula pulled from her handbag, hair tucked behind one ear, wand gently resting in her hand to make margin notes ( oh the day she’d discovered the spell that didn’t mar the books ; kept them a secret between her and the pages ). for the first couple of pages, penelope’s nose would emerge every time the door swung, but before long it became background noise.

one truth, two lies ( and the answer might surprise you ) : kaela would see him dead by nights end if he didn’t make an effort / an icy reminder to be on best behaviour from the eldest karkaroff had driven niko to what might almost be called an extreme / niko could pick and choose when he wanted to be be a charming young man indeed, and penelope’s arrival had confirmed that she was worth it. anyone would have been lucky to have her upon their arm for the evening, and niko knew that. she had never done anything… altogether unsavory to him, and he had no reason to bristle.

he’s still not a very good read on people, though. when penelope’s eyes fill, he’s sure he’s unintentionally offended her in some way - surprised when she actually moves closer, struck dumb by the fact she reached out to him at all. understanding comes to him slowly, and he looks downwards in what’s almost confusion. it’s just a corsage. “you’re welcome. it’s- book pages-” he says, rather stupidly, the only indication that this is his flustering being the fact he feels it necessary to explain the obvious. “because of your store. you like books.” 

perhaps it’s been a while since penelope could allow herself to recieve something like this – a gesture that simply is kind. there had been times before the sixth anniversary that she felt she could relax to this extent, to just accept someone at their face value, but given how hectic the last... who knows how many months had been, she’d felt much more adrift in her sense of self than had been necessary before. so, niko stumbles through a flustering explanation, and her eyes light up and she laughs, a really companionable laugh as she holds her wrist out for him to put the corsage on.