Author: Lyta Padfoot
Category: General, Angst
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling. Characters and situations are used without permission, no infringement is intended.
Summary: Penelope accepts a surprise gift of roses. No happy ending.
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Her birthday aside, Percy usually only brought her flowers when he had done something he knew she would disapprove of. His predictability was one of the things Penelope liked most about him; he was an island of stability in a world of shifting currents. This was not to say that he was an unromantic soul, but he did not express his feelings with offerings of flowers, jewelry, or chocolates. Perhaps it was his upbringing that conditioned Percy to show affection with deeds but instead of purchases, but Percy rubbed aching feet and backs. He'd helped her assemble her furniture from the flatpack and remembered that she liked green tea better than chamomile. He always knew just how to smile at her so that she felt that the world reduced itself to a sphere built for two.
It was a gray Tuesday morning when Penelope opened her front door to find a small man bearing a white florist box, she sighed and accepted the flowers. She and Percy had argued the week before about his family ?Penelope could not imagine months of not speaking to her family and she'd urged Percy to reconcile. He'd returned to his flat in anger and she'd spent a lonely week wondering whether or not she should make the first move. Now it appeared that Percy made the first gesture.
She set the box on the coffee table and lifted the lid. Penelope frowned. Percy usually sent her favorite sunshine yellow roses, but these were as red as her heart's blood. It seemed odd, like a miss sung note in an otherwise perfect harmony. Percy was a detail-oriented person and Wizard florists could conjure any color of flower desired.
Inside the box was a small white envelope. Her name was neatly printed on the back. Usually these included little cards with variations on 'I love you; we need to talk. How about dinner tonight?' This time she found a letter written in flowing blue ink on good quality parchment. The handwriting was Percy's... but like the flowers if was off just enough to be noticeable. Percy prided himself on his penmanship, on the correct form of each letter. The 'P' in her name was crooked and there was a smudge on the lower left corner as though his thumb had brushed the paper with some kind of moisture on it and smeared the ink.
She sank down onto her sofa, barely noticing her cat climbing into her lap as she began to read the letter. She found herself unable to progress beyond the first line. It seemed to go on and on, front and end linked in a circle.
"Penelope, I've arranged that the flowers and this letter be sent to you in the event of my death..."