Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

"A Weekend In Hogsmeade"
by Christine Anderson
aka Lilly Malfoy

The wind picks up as they're walking to Hogsmeade, tossing their cloaks back, tangling her hair. It smells like rain, and she can sense a storm coming up, but Penelope doesn't feel the chill much, or even the heavy dampness of the air, as much as she feels his arm linked with hers.

She must have passed the Unicorn Tavern a hundred times or more over the years, and hardly noticed. She'd thought it belonged to one of the wealthier families living in the village, and she had never seen much traffic in or out of the place.

Penny expects this to be awkward in some way- it certainly would have been with Percy. But it isn't at all. Alastor knows the owner- she can't imagine him staying anywhere where he didn't- and he makes introductions and arrangements. He's thought this out. Two rooms, when from other men she might have expected...

But he's not other men, she's learned that by now. He doesn't presume, when others would.

"Just let me toss this stuff in a corner," he says, "and then we can go out, if you'd like."

Penny laughs. "Take your time. I'd really like to do something with my hair before I'm seen in public again."

"You look beautiful, lass."

She feels herself flush, and shakes her head. "Humor me." She drops a kiss onto the tip of his nose. "There's a sitting room I noticed down the hall. Meet you there?"

"Yes. That'd be... I'll see you there."

She smiles as she goes into her room, closes the door behind her. The room is cozy, and looks quite comfortable, but her only real interest just then is the mirror above the dresser. She tosses her bag onto a chair and rummages around for her hair brush.

"Gods, that wind," she says to herself as she runs the brush through her hair. As if she honestly cares about the wind.

"You may as well put it up," says the mirror. "Or accept it as a lost cause."

Penny rolls her eyes. "Thank you very much. Let's see..." Muttering to herself she goes fishing in the bag once more. "Pins, pins... Did I bring any pins? Oh gods..."

"Still," the mirror goes on, "it looks quite nice down, really. If the wind doesn't bother you..."

"Hmm." She turns back to the mirror, and nods. "Thanks."

One more sweep of the brush, and she decides she's ready. It's all she can do not to run down the hall to meet him. She's been looking forward to this all week, and now that they're finally here, she's finding it hard to stop smiling.

Not that she's been able to keep the smile off her face at Hogwarts, either.

They walk arm-in-arm through the streets of Hogsmeade. The storm is still coming, and all around them people are beginning to hurry, clearly not wanting to be caught in it, but Penelope Clearwater and Alastor Moody take their time.

She finds she likes the village better this way, without the hoards of Hogwarts students mobbing it. Or perhaps it's just the company.

After a moment she says as much, and is rewarded with a quick blush and a smile. "It might be, at that."

She can't help but return that smile.

There is more to Hogsmeade than the places the students usually haunt, Zonko's and The Three Broomsticks, and it is to these places off the beaten path that they wander to, talking, laughing, sometimes simply enjoying each other's company. In all the time they walk and wander, he hardly lets go of her arm, nor she his.

The small bookshop out towards the far end of the village is still her favorite, and Penny is thrilled to discover he loves it as much as she does. The Ravenclaws always favored the village's larger bookshop for its wider selection, and she'd always found this shop to be a bit of a refuge for that reason.

"I should have known you'd know this place," Alastor says, holding the door for her.

She grins. "I used to come here all the time when I was at Hogwarts. My housemates would think I hadn't even gone to Hogsmeade, and I'd have been here all day, with a cup of tea and a book. The owner and I got to be pretty good friends. Come on, I'll introduce you- she's almost always here."

He looks a bit uncertain. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she says firmly. She's never introduced him to any of her friends before- she doesn't have that many, and the others, Draco and Luna, he already knows. But she doesn't hesitate. "Madeline?"

A middle-aged witch appears from the other side of a bookcase. "Penny! It's good to see you, my dear."

Penny smiles. "You too, Madeline. I'd like you to meet someone." She rests a hand on Alastor's shoulder. "This is Alastor Moody. Alastor, this is Madeline Stonebridge."

Madeline raises her eyebrows. "The Alastor Moody? Pleased to meet you."

Penny's smile widens. "The one and only."

It might be the light, but she thinks he's blushing faintly. "Ah- Likewise, Ms- Stonebridge? You'd be Thomas Stonebridge's daughter, then?"

Madeline nods. "Yes."

"I know your father of old. Good man. Damn good Auror."

Penny gasps. "Your da's an Auror? You never told me that!"

"He was in covert stuff last time he talked to me about it," Madeline replies. "Couldn't say anything about that, could I? I'm surprised you haven't run into him yet- he's teaching now."

"Is he?" Penny asks. "Good for him."

The shop owner smiles. "Can I help you find anything in particular?"

Penny shakes her head. "No thanks, Madeline. We're just browsing, I think."

Madeleine nods. "Alright. Give a shout if you need anything." And with a cheery wave she heads into the shop's back room.

Bless you, Maddy, Penny thinks.

They spend at least an hour browsing around the bookshop, leaving with a few books each, which he insists upon carrying. She makes a token protest, but she's too charmed to argue very hard.

As they're rounding the corner away from the bookshop, her foot slips on a paving stone still wet from the last storm. He catches hold of her arm and pulls her back before she can stumble. The shock of nearly losing her footing is enough to make her gasp for breath...and then she is aware, quite suddenly, of the length of their bodies pressed so close together...

"Thank you," she says. Turns in his arms, and kisses him gently. "I guess I need to watch where I'm going."

"It does pay not to get too...distracted," he says, his eyes fixed upon hers.

She throws her head back and laughs. "Yes, that's true. That's quite true."

He seems to enjoy the sound of her laughter; he smiles at her in a way she knows his students find rather frightening, but which touches her deeply. She likes his smile, likes the idea that it is something special between them, something no one else sees the way that she does.

They have afternoon tea and a light meal in a small, cozy pub. Like the Unicorn Tavern, it's a place she has never really noticed before. It seems few others have either, as it isn't very crowded. He seems to know the place, and to trust those who manage it well enough, but she's just as glad when he produces a box of his own tea bags.

She recalls a point when this would have seemed unreasonably paranoid to her, but now she just smiles her thanks and makes her tea. She pours hot water from the end of her wand, enjoying the idea that this is a drink she can trust.

"I envy you that," she says, nodding to his flask.

"Yeah, it comes in handy," he replies. "But we'll work on yours."

"I'm looking forward to it." They don't discuss the details, of course- it isn't the time or the place, and he seems pleased that nothing needs to be said about this, that she understands.

So many people think her paranoid; she knows they believe he is even more so. But she finds the paranoia necessary, more and more so each day. And she appreciates that they are of a similar mind about these things.

The storm is near to breaking when they finish their tea, and they decide it's time to head back to the Unicorn.

"You fancy racing a storm, then?" she asks.

He laughs. "I don't know about racing, lass." He glances at the sky. "Might be a bit late for that. But we can give it a try."

She shakes her head, smiling. "It's only water, anyway. It dries. But it's cold, and I do hate being cold."

"Well, we can't have that, then, can we?" He slips an arm around her shoulders as they walk along back towards the Unicorn Tavern.

She keeps her pace deliberately slow- a fast walk, but not, she thinks, one so fast he can't keep up with her. "You alright?" she asks. "Not going too fast, are we?"

"No, lass. And thank you." He smiles at her, and she gets the impression that not very many people have been too considerate of his old injuries. They've pitied him, of course, and probably been rude and offensive, but it can't have crossed many minds to show any concern.

She can't imagine not showing that concern.

"It only seemed logical to ask," she says, returning the smile.

They pause as a carriage crosses the street in front of them, and his arm tightens about her. "You truly are a wonder, Penelope."

She feels herself flush, and knows it's more than the cold causing it. "I..."

He kisses her cheek. "Hush, now. Don't argue."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she says. If he believes it, she is willing to consider it, no matter how she wants to duck her head, embarrassed, and deny it.

They spend the afternoon in the sitting room, playing chess and talking. She wins as many games as she loses, though he has a few moves she hasn't seen before.

She laughs as the fragments of her king crawl around the box and put themselves back together. "I really didn't see that last one coming..."

He nods. "You were doing alright, but there were a few places you could have caught me. That's why this doesn't always work- bit of a gamble, really."

She looks at the board, frowning in thought. "Show me?"

"Gladly." He orders the pieces back onto the board, and sets them up. She starts to stand up, but he waves her back to her chair. "No, stay there. You should learn to see this from the angle where you're most likely to face it." Instead he comes to her, where he stands with a hand upon her shoulder. He leans over, gesturing with his free hand. "It starts about here..."

She feels his breath upon the back of her neck as he speaks, and it's a struggle to keep her concentration on the chessboard. "Mmm, yes, I think I see it-"

"But because it's got to be set up so early, there are lots of places you could stop it cold. Here's one." He moves a few of the pieces around. "See, if you did this-" Another shuffling of chess pieces, "then whomever you're playing against will have to come up with something else."

"Thank you," she says, bringing a hand to his face. She brushes her fingers along his cheek, and he turns toward the caress. She smiles. She stands up slowly, opening her arms just as he reaches for her. They embrace, simply holding each other for a long moment.

He kisses her tenderly, one hand running slowly through her hair. His gentleness touches her in ways she cannot describe. She doesn't have words for feelings like these, at least not ones she is willing to speak yet, so she holds him and kisses him, and lets the gestures speak for her.

They brave the weather and go out to dinner- it had been storming, but the rain seemed to pause for breath as they went out.

She is quite amused when the rain starts up again just as they get settled in the restaurant. "Lucky break, that."

"I don't hold with luck much," he says. "Though lately I think mine's been changing."

"Do you?" she asks, smiling.

"You might say that."

"Do you know, I think mine is, too. And for the better." She can tell these words embarrass him a bit, so she changes the subject- asks him about his travels. He must have seen so many different places over the course of his years as an Auror. She's never left Europe, rarely even left England, but it seems he has been a bit of everywhere.

She's fascinated by all of it. She can't help laughing at his tales of the American wizards and witches he's dealt with. Some of them have the silliest ideas, and it turns out that the arrogance Americans Muggles can display has carried over to their wizarding world. She's reminded of some American cousins of her mother's who came to visit once, and though she doesn't talk about her family much she finds herself telling the story, anyway.

When she realizes she's begun to skirt the truth of her family situation- how they feel about her, and she about them- she changes the subject quickly. It's obvious what she's done, as she abruptly begins to talk about Quidditch, but he doesn't press her. It's as if he can see the wound there, and knows she isn't ready to talk about it. She's grateful to him for that.

They aren't lucky enough to miss the rain heading back from dinner. All they can do is huddle close together in defense against the wind. The chill seems to cut right through her, but she finds his arm around her to be ample compensation.

"Gods!" she says back in the inn's upstairs sitting room. "I'd forgotten how lovely the weather can be around here."

He nods. "Yeah, it's going to take some getting used to for me, too," he says as he pulls the dripping cloak from her shoulders. "I tell you what. Why don't you go dry off- don't want you catching cold, do we? I'll take care of this." He taps the cloak with one finger.

"You've got a deal- if you take care of this as well." She tugs his sopping cloak off and hands it to him.

"Done. Go on."

Penny heads back to her room, where she casts a few quick drying spells on her clothes. She catches sight of her reflection in the mirror, and winces. "Oh, gods. I look a mess!" It crosses her mind that he does, too, but that seems different somehow.

"Bit wet out there, eh?" says the mirror.

She sighs. "Yeah. Gods... I can't go back out there looking like this."

The mirror laughs at her. She hadn't known it could do that.

"What?"

"If he looks at you the way you were looking when you walked in here," the mirror says, "it's not going to matter."

She blushes a bit, wondering if the mirror is right. But she makes some attempt to brush her hair anyway, before stepping out again. Firelight glows from the end of the hall, and she makes her way eagerly towards it. He sits before the fire, feeding logs to it, as she comes in.

"Hello," she says, feeling suddenly shy without knowing why.

He smiles over his shoulder. "Hello yourself."

She can't resist returning that smile. She goes to sit beside him, and takes his hand. His feels quite warm, and she realizes how cold she still must be. "Sorry," she says quietly.

"Don't worry about it. Here, this should help." He hands her a steaming goblet. "Mulled wine. Good against chills."

She takes the goblet, but hesitates before drinking. "Is it-?"

"It's fine. I checked it over very carefully- wouldn't give you anything I hadn't. It's good you're thinking along those lines, though. Can't be too careful."

"Very true," she says. She takes a careful sip, and feels a pleasant warmth spread through her. "Thanks. Is there a spell on this, by chance?"

He shakes his head, then gives the goblet in his own hand a long glance. "No, it's just nice and warm. "

"And I'm very cold," she says, nodding.

"We can't have that... Come here." He sets his goblet aside and opens his arms to her. She slips into that offered embrace as if it were made for her. His fingers begin to brush gently through her still-damp hair. "Gods," he whispers. "You are beautiful."

"I'm not," she says, feeling it is time for this truth. She's never seen herself that way at all.

"Dear, sweet Penelope..." He shakes his head. "You really don't see it, do you?"

She laughs softly. "I suppose I don't. Enlighten me."

"You are beautiful. The most beautiful woman in all the world."

"No, I'm not," she says quickly. "I can't possibly be."

He sighs into her hair. "Damn him."

"Who's that?" Penny asks.

"Whichever idiot told you that you weren't- or didn't say often enough that you are."

She ducks her head against his shoulder, unable to meet his gaze. "Alastor-"

"No. Penelope, sweet, look at me."

Reluctantly she raises her head. He cups her cheek in his palm, slowly turning her face up towards him. She doesn't resist, but she feels her hands begin to shake.

"Do you trust me?" he asks.

"Gods, yes," she whispers.

"Then trust me now. Believe me when I say this, because the last thing I would do is lie to you. You are beautiful."

No one has ever spoken these words to her with such conviction. No one has spoken these words to her, in fact, in quite a long time. "I- I... oh, Gods..."

He begins to stroke her hair again. "Shh, shh. I know. We won't say any more about this just now, but you'll keep in mind what I said, right?"

"I will," she promises. "Thank you."

He kisses her softly, his hands buried in her hair. They sit there together for what might have been hours, or only moments- she has lost all sense of time now- holding one another, exchanging gentle kisses, soft caresses... The fire crackles in the grate, the only sound in the room beyond the occasional very quiet sigh.

She begins to feel pleasantly drowsy, and wonders if the mulled wine hasn't begun to go to her head. In another man's company this might concern her, but Alastor Moody is a gentleman, and she knows beyond doubt that he would never even attempt to take advantage of her.

Her head comes to rest against his shoulder, and her eyes drift closed. It's possible she falls into a light doze. The next thing she is aware of is his gentle hand upon her shoulder.

"Penelope..."

She has to stifle a yawn before she can speak. "I'm sorry, did I-?"

He smiles. "Only for a minute or two. I hated to wake you, really..."

She smiles back. "That's sweet of you. But I'm thinking I should probably get to bed."

He stands, and holds out a hand to help her up. She takes it, still smiling. "Thank you, for today. I had a lovely time."

"So did I," he says.

He walks her back to her room, and tired as she is, the trip is far too short. At her door he kisses her, a kiss that is gentle and slow.

"Good night, sweet Penelope."

"Good night, Alastor," she whispers. She holds tightly to his hand for a moment, before letting it go.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says.

She smiles. "Count on it. I'm not going anywhere."

"Nor I, lass. Nor I. Good night."

She falls asleep only a short time later, the sound of his voice still echoing in her ears.