Penelope Clearwater

PENELOPE CLEARWATER emigrates to France, and spends the rest of her days nannying for European witches and wizards. Every now and then, someone manages to track her down and tries to get her version of events at Buckingham, but she politely declines, and is rather grateful when inquiries slow to a trickle, and finally cease altogether. She is uncomfortable and awkward around non-magical people, and avoids contact with any English expatriates as much as possible. She never marries.

This is all sorts of awkward, Molly, but I don't know what else I can say except for the truth.

I lost my job recently, and things in New London have been getting downright desperate. My old friend Karoline Baddock started doing favours for me, helping to cover my bills, and making sure I had access to food, that sort of thing. And once I owed her more than I could ever pay back, her husband made me a job offer I knew I couldn't turn down. Not if I wanted to keep living.

And yesterday, I was sitting in a meeting, taking notes (because that's the only job they let me do -- that and babysit the children), and Virgil Crispin needed to know whether Percy had been a spy or not, and I volunteered to see if I could find out, because it'd give me an excuse to write you.

I'm in over my head. I'm scared, and I'm alone. I thought things would be different, better, less complicated, but it's just more of the same, and I feel like I've just made the world's biggest mistake. But what else is there? I hear so many different versions of the same story, and everyone has an agenda, and the world somehow feels even less safe than it did before. I don't know who to turn to, who to trust, I can't even confide in my best friend, and no-one here pays me the least mind -- I might as well be a servant.

You've always been so kind to me. You and your family. You were so good to write after Percy was killed, and those Sunday dinners felt so much like I was really coming home. And I'll never forget Arthur, and how thoughtful he was, and how you both tried your best to reach out to me while Percy was breaking it off. It was just so decent of you both. And when I found out you were all working for the Order, well, I just didn't know what to think, really. It's like everything's on its head these days.

I miss Percy terribly sometimes. I know he had his issues, and Merlin knows we didn't always get along, but I did love him, and I'd like to think he loved me too, at least for a little. And I know how much he cared about all of you, even though he did an absolutely terrible job of showing it sometimes, and that you loved him so very much.

I don't think he was a spy. I just wanted to write you and say that I was so sorry for what has happened to all of us.

I don't know what to do, Molly. I just don't.

Brunch today was so good. I can't get over those potatoes. Ponty's been talking up Blaison for ages, I can see why. I'll have to drag him there next time I'm in a brunching mood.

It was lovely catching up. You looked absolutely marvelous, by the way. If my hair wasn't absolutely hopeless, I'd kidnap your stylist in a heartbeat.

From what you were saying over brunch, your equinox party sounds like it'll be just stunning. I can't wait.

Sorry I couldn't make it out tonight. I'll definitely be up for something on Thursday.

The Watch is being rather bothersome in my neighbourhood lately -- they knocked on my door at an ungodly hour last night, and I've been like the dead all day. And of course I was on edge because I'd just gotten another one of those silly 'Hello neighbour' circulars that morning -- you know what I'm talking about -- and thought they were going to jump to conclusions about my having received one, but they were going on about graffiti and were telling everyone on the block to keep a sharp eye. Why they had to tell me at one o'clock in the morning is beyond understanding.

I think I might look for a new flat once my lease is up.

Good news on the work front, though, we finally got some of the permits through, which means Powell is being less of a diva. Merlin, he was driving me spare.

Speaking of driving one spare, how's your mum? I hope she's been a bit less of a pain. Perhaps she'll lighten up once your little brother gets properly hitched. Lavender Brown always struck me as the sort who'd be perfectly happy being a Society Witch with loads of babies.

And yes, if you must ask, I did go out for lunch with the charming Mr Kendall who chatted me up at the fair. Yes, he was just as charming at lunch. Yes, there may be a second lunch in the works. Nosy parker. Now you can stop trying to set me up, at least for a little while.

Lunch was lovely. It feels like it's been ages, and it was so good to see you. Once we finally get our permits approved, my schedule ought to be a great deal more predictable. The Ministry's really been keeping us waiting, which is so annoying, honestly, it's just a standard approval process that's supposed to be a two week turnaround at most, but lately everything has been taking twice as long to get processed.

Anyways. I'm sorry Ptolemy's been such an arse. (I know, I know, he's been having a stressful time at work, and family's always been a sore spot with him, but I still can't believe he said that about your mum, and I don't care how much stress he's under, that's still no excuse.)

I think I can make it for drinks on Thursday after work. Balestra, right? I'll let you know if anything comes up between now and then.

Well, that's Valentine's over.

I'm glad, actually. I didn't half think about it at all until tea-time, and then it was just to think he was probably working away, maybe eating a cake over his desk and making sure the crumbs didn't fall on some precious parchment of Mr Malfoy's. On reflection I don't know what I was doing with him, anyway. Well. Of course I know. But you're right, I'll find someone better.

Look, you and Ptolemy didn't have to clear out last night, either. I was expecting to go out and leave you to it. But thanks. It was rather a relief to come back at half-eleven and have the place to myself. I didn't hear you come in; did he take you somewhere grand?

But listen, if you two want, let's all go round the pub tonight? There's a small combo playing and I think you'll like them a great deal. I want you to meet the guitarist and tell me what you think. He's an acquaintance of Mr Powell's. Really rather fit, even if he is a little older.

Mum says Dad gave her a bouquet and even suggested they go out for supper last night. I say he's just making up from the last quarrel but you know how she is. She'll never leave, if the house were to burn down around them.

Well, I'm going to pop round the pasty cart while the weather's holding. See you after work?

Look, I know things are--awkward. And I didn't want to disturb you this morning, or upset you or anything, or risk a scene, but I knew I had to be there.

You look okay, all things considered. Tired, of course, you all do, and sort of...glassy-eyed. I guess that's natural, given what you've all been through. But I know you care about appearances and I just wanted to tell you, you look like you're bearing up under it all admirably.

I can tell, though, that you're more upset than you're letting on to the rest of them.

So, I.... Well, I just wanted to say that, if you wanted, last week could be last week and we could, maybe, try again. Forgive and forget, isn't that what they say?

If you want--company, or companionship or someone who you don't have to be strong in front of, I--I'll lift the wards round the flat, for the next couple of days.

I'm--I'll have to go to Mum and Dad's for supper but, if you wanted to come home, it'd be all right.

I may not have shown it the best way, Perce, but I did--do--love your family. And you.

Come home. Okay? Our home.

Karo,

Fancy a drink?

Percy's gone out for a pint with his father, because I suppose whatever's wrong at work this time isn't something he can tell me, just that it's all horrible. I mean, I know his father's worked in offices with demanding wizards longer than either of us but--I just wish he'd let me know more about what's bothering him.

Aside from money, which is almost all he ever wants to talk about now.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't be complaining about living with my boyfriend when you and Ptolemy are busy planning your big day. I'm sure it won't be anything like this with him, for you. For one thing, it's not as if money will be a problem!

But there's also--I mean, I don't think Ptolemy's the sort who'll expect you to work a full day and then have supper on the table for him. (Ironic, isn't it? If we could afford a mudblood, that'd be one less thing to row over, but as we can barely afford the food, we can't very well stand the stipend for someone to cook it!) Has his father said anything to you about getting you one? I suppose it's not the sort of thing you can put on a bridal registry, hah!

Honestly, Karo, sometimes I wonder if we were wiser not to get married straight off, or if that would have made this all better. I know my mother thinks he'll never ask this way--and he may not do, but I'm still not ready for all that, anyway. Especially if he thinks I'll instantly turn into his mum (complete with seven children, goats, chickens and a ghoul in the attic, no doubt!).

I mean, it's weird, right? We talked about so many things before I left school. One of the things he wanted most was to get away from the squalour his family live in. But every Sunday he wants to go tromping back there, milking the Merlin-forsaken goats. And Circe forbid that I don't want to go with him! It's like he wants to build a life in New London but he can't quite bring himself to leave the old one behind completely. I know he loves them, but you should see the way he talks about them in private. And he's so different with them, too! You remember that night we met the two of you down the pub? He's just so informed. He and Ptolemy really hit it off, I thought. He even sounded a bit sophisticated--I think he even impressed Ptolemy a little with that quip about Mr Croaker! But with his family, it's like they turn him into the butt of every joke, somehow. Though it's different when it's just Mr and Mrs Weasley and his brother Bill, though it's still...uncomfortable, sometimes. Like they're all expecting him to put his elbow in the butter dish or something. (Well, not quite. It's just something I can't quite put my finger on. I know. It's like they think he's puffing himself up when really he's just telling the truth about the things he's done and the people he's met. It's like they're a little bit disappointed in him, and I just don't see how that can be. Apart from Bill he's done better than the rest of them put together!)

Well, anyway. Sorry to go ranting in your direction. I guess I just needed to purge it all.

But an ale would also do wonders, if you're free.

Perce,

Remember that I'm working late most nights this week, so you're on your own. Better yet, you could have a takeaway waiting for me when I get in!

Mum says she might come Friday. Is that all right? See if Bill wants a boys' night or something. Or maybe you and he could go get drinks after with some of his Ministry mates.

Love you, see you later.

Oh, bugger, Mum!

What do I do?

I got the afternoon off from Mr Powell, so I could come home and cook Percy supper for his birthday. Everything was going so well. I made the recipe perfectly, I swear, and then I put the roast in the oven.

And then Perce said he'd be later than we thought, so I turned the cooker down.

Well.

I thought I turned it down. I was sure I turned it down.


Are there any spells to un-crisp a roast? Only it's all sort of black. And dry.

And the potatoes are none too edible.

It's really rather a ruin, actually.

After I spent extra on the groceries this week, too, to get fresh broad beans and real butter and all his favourite extras.

Maybe next year we should just let his mum cook.

I mean, it's not like he'd have been home for that, either.

Oh, bugger it. I'm getting take-away.