WHO: Charlie Spinnet and Penny Fawcett!
WHAT: I can't
WHERE: Her house!
WHEN: This weekend!
There was nothing like starting the New Year without having any sort of idea which direction your life was heading. Charlie, admittedly, had never been good at having a plan outside of what was going on right in front of him, but he’d been trying to set a course of action. There was quidditch to be played, best friends to help deal with very public and drastic catastrophe, and a wayward girlfriend that had disappeared into the night, quite literally.
Charlie pushed the gate in the fence of Penelope’s house opened, letting out a breath. He did feel guilt for not having been able to see her since New Year’s Eve, but life had literally gotten in the way. There was Octavius, then there was rehab, and then there was the most amazing announcement he’d ever heard: he’d made the Irish World Cup Team. When he found out the news Charlie had ducked into a closet to help himself contain his ridiculous swelling of emotions, knocking coats off hangers and kicking old shoe boxes over in his delight. It was the highlight of his career, and it felt like he’d finally proven to the world, and most importantly to himself, that he was a damn good quidditch player.
He’d even heard rumors swirling about his name being thrown around for
captain, which almost sent him into a panic attack shock because there was no way in
hell he would be able to handle those responsibilities
or beat out Flint or Troy for the title. But just to be part of the rumors…
Shaking his head to get out of his thoughts, Charlie lifted his hand to knock on the front door, but paused. The last time he’d done so the door had blast him off the porch and into the rose bushes thanks to one of Little Pepper’s experiments. He bit his tongue and decided to ring the doorbell, instead. He winced as the sound rung, and when he didn’t go flying Charlie took a breath.
It was foolish for Penelope to not want to open the door. She knew that, yet still she hovered on the stairs, unwilling to move.
New Year's Eve had been… wonderful, in its own right. In so few times in Penelope's life had she indulged in carefree, uninhibited behaviour. She floated home in a haze of disbelief and wonderment… until she had appeared in full view of her house. A house which had three other people in it, who would expect to know where she had been and what she had been doing.
That was when her enjoyment slowly turned to horror, and she'd started to realise the gravity of exactly where she had been and what she had been doing.
Staying out all night, with Louis Bonaccord? He was the former paramour of one of her best friends! What would
Dianna think? Being halfway across the world did not soften the blow of betrayal! He'd helped break up her wedding, for heaven's sake!
And
her boyfriend! How could she possibly explain, let alone excuse, kissing another man and running off with him? It couldn't be done, simply could not be done.
Grief and confusion and shame formed a menacing vortex that Penelope was no stranger to—three times in her life, she could count being sucked into such a vacuum. But it seemed that every time her life fell apart, she did something to ensure its ultimate destruction. Tripp—
Chester—did not excuse the way she'd acted.
When she returned in the new year, she fled to her room and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling in bed, ignoring the frenzied knocks at the door and refusing to disclose where she'd been, a practice she repeated whenever she wasn't working. While she normally took pains to be the least obtrusive person in their colourful household, her absence was well-noted by all.
Penelope had not dodged Charlie, exactly, but she had not sought him out since that night. Today, He'd wanted to meet here, so of course she'd had to say yes, but… as she stared at the large, suddenly imposing front door, she had little idea of what to do or say.
She opened the door slowly, until his face came into view. "Hello," she said quietly, standing aside on one foot.
“Hi,” he said with a gentle smile. He had missed her face, and Charlie wondered if this was the longest they had gone without seeing each other. He wasn’t sure, but it felt like it. It didn’t matter that he’d been apart from Penny for nearly two weeks, he could still see the etch of worry and concern on her face. Charlie wasn’t stupid---he wasn’t the sharpest, but he wasn’t
stupid, and Penny was a subject that he had hoped he was good at understanding.
But what did that really mean? Charlie felt like the past year had been full of missteps and misjudgments on both their parts, and he found it unnerving that they’d managed to go this long without talking about New Year’s. It
was strange, right? He wasn’t feeling off for no reason? Charlie was sure he would’ve gotten his neck wrung by Penny’s friends, family, and even Delilah might even have a go at him, if he’d disappeared into the night without a word. He felt owed an explanation, even if it was as simple as being tired and going to bed.
And of course it made him think that if the answer was that simple, he would’ve heard it already. Charlie scratched the back of his head, knowing that they’d both avoid any topics of discomfort if given the chance. What exactly had put him on this maturity streak?
“D’you want to talk out here or…” he gestured inside, feeling as if he hadn’t exactly been invited in.
Her impulse was to smile back at him, even as a desire to cry warred within her, and her already brow fell further. It shouldn't have surprised or disappointed her that Charlie knew he was here for a
discussion. Nearly two weeks with very little communication had to be an indication of something bad, after all.
Penelope could not help but reflect on how just about this time last year, she'd have sailed into his arms, ready or not, and peppered him with kisses in place of a soft greeting.
"Oh," she said, looking back over her shoulder. There was always the possibility of people lurking inside, and animals, who were often just as if not more judgemental than the people. She had a great appreciation and affection for her housemates but not one of them would ever deny that they were nosy.
While the outside offered the ideal escape for privacy, it also seemed cold and barren and too perfect a setting for the horrible conversation she was imagining all too precisely was about to take place.
Shaking her head, she opened the door wider and stepped back. "No, you should come inside."
Once she had shut the door, Penelope fixated on the lock for a few moments before taking a breath and saying, "I'm sorry about New Year's," and turning to face him.
That wasn’t really how he wanted this to start. Charlie frowned, hoping that her apology wouldn’t go much further than that. They’d all been jinxed, and he felt tremendously guilty for kissing another woman, but he did get slapped for it. That should rid him of all charges, right?
“We were all wearing the masks,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. The fog that had been lifted after the mask was slapped off his face had sent him into a shock, but the frenzy around him had made it hard to figure anything out. He’d searched for Penny for hours, and it wasn’t until the next morning that he’d received word that she was home. “I got smacked by Gabriel Corner’s wife, I don’t think I’m allowed to listen to the news anymore or I’ll get hexed through the wireless.”
He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to try to lighten the steadily growing heavy vibe he was feeling. Charlie...had anticipated that Penny had fallen under the tricks of the mask, and while he wanted to wring the neck of whoever had kissed her, he knew that it wasn’t---intentional. So--maybe him giving up an excuse for the night would keep him from having to deal with the image he most certainly didn’t want to see. But it still didn’t explain where she’d gone off to.
“I’m sorry too,” he said, “I don’t know how we got separated.”
She nodded, surprised her shoulders could slump further still when mentioned his own tryst, which she had surely expected. "I tried to find you—I was looking for you, when it—when everyone—" When she trailed off, it was with an air of discomfort. Penelope had learned the next day that what she had experienced, to a point, had not been unusual, but she doubted she could blame fleeing into the night on the bewitchment.
"That night, I know you know that I—I didn't find you—and—because I left with… the person I kissed at midnight." The words sounded horrible as soon as they came out of Penelope's mouth, but she couldn't correct them right away, as more words were crowding together, spilling out at a head-spinning pace. "I don't know why I did it, I wish that I did, because then I would have something to tell you, some reason, but…" She had, as ever, been the sole, unfathomable reason for her undoing.
"And I wish I could tell you nothing happened, because nothing much else did, but it would feel like a lie," Penelope held her hand to her stomach uneasily, and looked downward.
A part of her, very small and deep down and easily drowned out, refused to admit fault because for sixteen wonderful hours, she hadn't cared. It was a feeling she hadn't known how badly she wanted for herself until she'd had it and lost it. Penelope didn't know what it meant, perhaps Louis Bonaccord of all people
did understand her, more than she thought possible, but she couldn't be sorry she experienced it. But it was a foolish act that hurt people, and for that, her heart ached.
"I couldn't lie to you like that. I'm very sorry." She wished tears had not accompanied that statement, but she could feel one beading in the corner of her eye as she tried to meet Charlie's gaze and not have her face crumple.
He had imagined Penny curled up in a closet, hiding away until the madness of the night calmed down. Falling asleep there, and waking up in a panic before coming home and letting them know she was fine. That’s what he had figured. Her words still sounded strange in his head because they seemed so unfathomable. She’d gone off with the bloke she’d kissed? The jinxed one, did she even know who he was before---
His brow furrowed and he turned away from her to get his thoughts straight. Charlie wasn’t
stupid. The masks must’ve come off eventually, she had to have
known. A million questions raced through his head and they all brought upon him a heavy sense of sadness. There was a trust that had been broken; his easiness to assume the most innocent of explanations suddenly made him feel like he’d been blinded by love for this girl.
Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but shut it quickly, trying to force back the bubbling anger that was rising. She said--she’d said nothing
much had happened, but---what did that--did he even want to know? Would that help matters? Should he be bothered to? Charlie crossed his arms, shaking his head as it felt like there wasn’t much else for him to do in the moment. Penny had disappeared into the night with some bloke, and
not much had happened. How was that supposed to make him feel?
“Why?” Charlie was surprised with the question that had managed to escape him, but his expression turned stern. This, he wanted to know. “Why? What did---why?”
She knew she couldn't tell him she didn't know why, especially when that might not have been the truth after all. "Because it was an escape," Penelope said softly, helpless to do anything but meet his steadily furious gaze.
That was really what running away, if only for a night, had been, hadn't it? An escape from reality.
"For an instant, I could get away from another party that was still too much, too crowded. It was someone who had no idea about Trip—
Chester, or who he had been in my life, didn't know what I had done wrong." An escape from the the guilt and shame and grief still raw from the revelation, and from the damage, perhaps unseen, she'd known she'd done to her family because of it. "Away from friends who did nothing but care too much, my brother, and perhaps even from… from you." She cast her eyes to the side, unable to look at anything but the dying embers in the fireplace from the wood that had burned in the grate early that morning.
She clasped her hands in front of her, tightly, twitching her thumbs together in a nervous tic, feeling as if she had spoken more in the last five minutes than she had in the last five years. "I saw an escape, even if it was for a moment, and I took it. I'm not proud that I did."
He felt that unmistakable dread that led up to a miserable breakup. Charlie had experienced it before, had been dumped before, and had ended things. He didn’t---it wasn’t
evident, it wasn’t...it felt like it. Like he’d been hit in the gut with a bludger. She’d needed an escape from him. Charlie knew how much Penny had gone through in the past few years, he tried his best to understand where everything had left her, but he’d always seen himself as something that helped. That helped
her. To hear that she’d whisked herself away with someone who didn’t carry any baggage made him feel...‘useless’ might be the word he was looking for. He felt unsure of everything; he had begun to believe he would never feel this sort of sting again, not when he was so set on his future with Penny.
“I don’t know what to say,” he muttered. He didn’t. Or, at least, he didn’t want to hear a response to what he had to say. Standing in silence would be good, could they do just that? Charlie really, honestly and truly, hated the maturity streak he’d been on lately and let out a breath. “I don’t---”
Charlie pressed his lips together. He couldn’t just dismiss this, it wasn’t fair. Not to him, or Penny. To run off with someone was...it wasn’t fair.
“I’ll give you space,” he said, pressing his tongue against his teeth. Charlie shook his head, frowning deeply as sadness overwhelmed him. He wanted what was best for Penny, he never wanted to feel like a
burden or something that caused her stress. If that’s what was going on, then he’d be selfish to stay. Right? It was all so…it wasn’t what he wanted, but it felt wrong to say otherwise. “You don’t escape for a night and everything’s magically fixed. I’ll give you space, if you want it.”
"I
don't want it!" she let out immediately, tears now streaming earnestly down her face. "I don't want it, but it doesn't feel like I have a choice."
She didn't have experience with this kind of heartbreak, not truly. True, she and Charlie had had their fits and starts in the beginning, but this was the fate of a relationship that spanned more than two years. It was a precious and fragile thing, and no one more than Penelope wanted to avoid being careless with it, with them. The idea that she and Charlie weren't right for one another was
devastating to her, but the spark, the light between them had dulled considerably in the last year, and she didn't feel it was a natural fading with time.
"I never wanted to do it like that, but we don't fit so well together anymore, and I don't know how to make it—" She ran a hand through her hair agitatedly.
Penelope started to pace, brows pulled together deeply as she fought to get her words out. "In some small way, I might have—I did it to break us because I didn't know how to fix us, or if we even could—"
She stopped and looked at him rather miserably, hugging herself tightly. "I don't want you to leave me all alone, but I think you have to."
Charlie blanched, and without hesitation, as he’d become so accustomed to in the past two years, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around her. Even on the brink of what he knew was going to be the worst breakup of his life, he loved her. He
loved this girl in his arms and in no way wanted to see her as sad as she was. As much as Charlie’s heart ached, as much as it stung to hear, he knew that her words rang true. He’d denied it to himself for months because he did truly and selflessly love Penelope, but somewhere things had changed.
“You’re not alone,” he said, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as his voice cracked. Holy
shit, this
sucked. Why had he ever bothered to mature and try to become an adult? Right, right. The girl in his arms. “You’ve got--your brother, your family, your nosy roommates---”
Charlie shut his eyes at the sound of footsteps shuffling away from the staircase. He pulled away from Penny, attempting to smile but failing miserably. Charlie wanted to brush away her tears, but he knew that touching her for any longer would only make things worse. Though, with the pain he was feeling he didn’t know how things could go more wrong. Where had they gone wrong? Why wasn’t he fighting harder for this, why had he let them...Charlie ducked his head, knowing that the questions were only going to eat away at him if he let himself spiral like he’d done before. He let out a shaky breath.
“You’ve got me,” Charlie said, hastily wiping away a few fallen tears. Penelope Fawcett was standing here, breaking his heart, but she’d ultimately changed him for the better. “You’ll always have me.”
She nodded as he spoke, unable to see him past her torrent of tears, but unwilling to relinquish her hands' grip on the front of his robes. She
would be alone, if she didn't have him, didn't he know that?
The time had come; their pieces had been said, the good-byes all but spoken. Yet Penelope could not think of anything more horrible than this. She was not, in fact, sure if there was anything more acutely heartbreaking and soul-wrenching than two people, equally distraught and unwilling to do what needed to be done, separating nonetheless.
Penelope hadn't known what to expect when she saw him again—although she had certainly, fervently, hoped for Charlie to refuse to listen to her, to scoop her into his arms and vow never to let go. But that was unreasonable. He, too, had known what she had all along, and been just as unwilling to face the cold, hard truth. Whatever wonderful thing had blossomed between them had been broken, perhaps irreparably, somewhere along the way. Perhaps it was fear that had made them so determined to cling to one another, but Penelope preferred to think of it as a testament to how much they cared for one another.
Releasing her grip finally, she stroked down his front in shaky, fluttering motions, slowly backing away. "I do love you," she whispered around the fist now pressed tightly to her mouth. "I always will, you know."
Charlie nodded, whispering that he’d always love her too, but wishing to everything that she hadn’t said it. If they both loved each other, then why were they doing this? Why wasn’t he fighting back, why wasn’t she? It didn’t make any sense, but at the same time there a pain in his chest that was forcing him to keep his position. They’d drifted apart, she’d run off into the night with some bloke, so---so----that’s what happened, right? Things happened, and you broke up. But holy hell, why did it hurt so much if it was the right thing to do? Charlie wiped his face, feeling sick and exhausted and lost.
Penny Fawcett was the most important chapter of his life and it hurt like hell to think about it closing, ending. Charlie bit back another wave of tears and forced a smile at her, gesturing toward some curls that had escaped from behind her ear. He couldn’t---Shaking his head, his hand instead reached for the front door and let himself out.
The door shutting behind him knocked him senseless and back into the reality he and Penny always managed to escape from together. The cold January air pained his lungs and Charlie looked around the front yard helplessly, unsure of anything. He cursed under his breath before he disapparated with a
crack.
