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Tonight, Penelope had vowed to put on a good face for her friends. Her brother swore she need not worry about Chester anymore, but the idea that he had been close to her for years without her knowing his true identity made her feel foolish and unsafe. In the last month, she'd been quiet and withdrawn, so much like her seventh year self, but New Year's Eve had always proven to be a time of change for her and there was no reason for this year to be different.

Only, she could find no friends to put on a good face for, and midnight was drawing steadily closer. There was no sign of Charlie anywhere, with whom she was supposed to ring in the new year, and the masks made it difficult to recognise her friends. Twice Penelope had stopped the wrong person hoping it had been Saoirse or Nona.

Then, there was someone right—there! Penelope had glimpsed him only for a moment, but she knew it was someone she was looking for. Was it Ollie? Her brows drew together beneath her mask as people kept darting in front of her and blocking him from view. No, Ollie was too tall. Perhaps it was the latest suitor on Arista's arm, what had his name been? But hadn't he been blonde? Yes, Penelope was certain he had been. Howell, perhaps? The shock of dark hair suggested it might be, but as she stepped closer to the man and he turned to face her, she knew it wasn't. How silly of her, not to realise it was who she had been seeking out this whole time.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," she said reverently, and reached up to pull his face down to hers.