Penelope
Penelope Clearwater, and you are?” Her voice was dripping with a certain condescending tone that Oliver knew all to well.
“Aurora.” She took Penelope’s hand. Oliver could tell that she was trying to act calm.
Oliver, still in shock, struggled to find his voice. The sight of Penelope on his doorstep was jarring, and he felt a rush of emotions he wasn’t ready to confront.
“Penelope, you shouldn’t be here. I’m having dinner with my friends,” Oliver said, his voice carrying a note of finality.
“Please, Oliver, just a quick chat,” Penelope pleaded, her voice taking on a familiar, manipulative edge that Oliver had grown tired of.
“Penelope, I told you I’m having dinner. You must go,” Oliver said, his tone brooking no argument. He forced himself to hold her gaze, determined not to let her sway him this time.
“I’m not leaving until we speak. I came all the way here; you can’t just spare a few minutes?” Penelope’s voice was rising, her frustration evident.
“Fine, three minutes,” Oliver relented, casting a reassuring glance at Aurora before stepping outside with Penelope.
The door closed behind them, leaving Aurora and the others in the dining room, their chatter subdued by the unexpected interruption.
Once outside, Oliver faced Penelope with a guarded expression. “What is it you want to say?”
“Oliver,” Penelope began, her voice softening as she took a deep breath. “I came to apologize. Since we split, I’ve had time to reflect on how things went. I didn’t support your dreams as I should have. I saw you play that day you got hit by the bludger, and it took everything in me not to run onto the field to make sure you were okay.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’ve seen you in the Prophet, and every time, I had to stop myself from writing to you. It was hard to see you with other women and even harder to see you so happy without me, especially since I’ve been miserable every single day without you.”
Penelope paused, taking a shaky breath. “Christmas is coming up, and it will be the first one in nearly a decade that I’ll spend without you. I didn’t even realize until now that you wouldn’t be there, and I bought you a gift out of habit.” She held up a beautifully wrapped present, her fingers trembling slightly. “It is the newest things from the Quidditch supplies shop.”
Oliver’s gaze fell on the gift for the first time, the wrapping paper catching the streetlight’s glow. He looked back at Penelope, his face a mask of conflicted emotions. “Penelope, I appreciate your apology, but you can’t just waltz back into my life whenever it suits you.”
Penelope’s face hardened, and she lifted her left hand to reveal the engagement ring he had given her, still on her finger. “I understand, but I haven’t been able to take off the ring. It’s been a constant reminder of what we once had. I’m not trying to disrupt your life, but I needed to show you that I’ve been struggling too.”
Oliver’s heart sank as he looked at the ring, the symbol of a past he was trying to move beyond.
Penelope's words hung in the air, heavy with desperation. Her eyes shimmered as she spoke, her hands wringing together nervously. "We had so much, Oliver. You can’t just erase all of that. I made mistakes, yes, but I’m different now. I would let you live your life the way you wanted—the Quidditch, the parties, everything." Tears were streaming down her face now.
Oliver had stopped himself from wiping her tears as he listened to her plea. She sounded like she was finally starting to understand, but it felt strange hearing her talk about becoming someone he needed—now, after everything had already crumbled. How could she suddenly be ready to change when they’d spent years struggling?
"You weren’t ready to give me that freedom back then," Oliver said quietly, his voice filled with the weight of their history. "You didn’t support my dreams when it mattered. You controlled everything—my schedule, my time, my choices. You didn’t even try to understand how important Quidditch was to me."
Penelope flinched, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I know, and I regret it so much. But people change, Oliver. I’ve had time to think, and I’m willing to make things work now. We had a strong foundation. How can you just let it go?"
Oliver took a deep breath, the conflict inside him bubbling up. He wanted to be honest with her, to explain how he had outgrown the life they once had. But he couldn't mention Aurora, not yet—not while Penelope was standing here, vulnerable and raw. It felt too personal, too soon.
"I didn't throw anything away," Oliver replied, his voice steady. "I made a choice to leave because it wasn’t working for either of us. You have to understand that what we had wasn’t as strong as you think. I didn’t want to be someone who was constantly compromising who I was just to make you happy."
Penelope’s face contorted in frustration, her emotions bubbling to the surface. "I don’t understand how you were so ready to walk away from everything we built—our home, our friends, our life together. You even left your ring behind, Oliver. Do you know how that felt? Like you were abandoning me completely."
Oliver felt a pang of guilt at the mention of the ring. He hadn’t thought about it in ages, but now it seemed like a symbol of the life he’d left behind. He was trying to stop tears from growing in his own eyes. "I wasn’t abandoning you. I was finding myself again. And I’m not going back to that version of me.
Oliver felt his chest tighten as Penelope's words hit him. He recognized the desperation in her voice, but hearing her talk about everything they used to have—the house, the ring, the friends—felt strange, especially given how much had changed since they split.
“Penelope,” Oliver started carefully, trying to maintain a calm demeanor, “I understand that it’s hard to accept, but we’ve been apart for a while now. The things you’re offering now... it’s like trying to patch up a hole in the foundation after it’s already collapsed.”
Penelope’s eyes still filled with tears, but Oliver could see the frustration building in her. “But I can be that person now. I can give you everything you want! Why can’t we rebuild? We were so good together once, Oliver.”
Oliver’s heart sank as he heard Penelope's words. He hadn’t realized how deep the hurt ran, or how sensitive she was to the remnants of their past. Her reaction was unexpected, almost as if every word he spoke was a reminder of their broken relationship.
“Penelope—” he started again, trying to find the right words.
“Stop, stop calling me that,” she interrupted, her voice sharp with emotion. “It’s like kicking me while I’m already down. You can’t even call me Penny anymore.”
The way she said it made Oliver pause. He had used “Penelope” out of habit, a formal gesture reflecting the distance that had grown between them. To hear that it was now seen as a form of betrayal cut him deeply.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Oliver said softly, his frustration mingling with a sense of guilt. “I just... I didn’t know how to address you, and I didn’t want to be disrespectful.”
Penelope’s eyes filled with tears again, and she took a deep breath to compose herself. “It’s just... you used to call me Penny when things were good. Now, hearing my full name feels like a reminder of everything that’s gone wrong.”
Oliver nodded, understanding the depth of her pain more clearly now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come across that way.”
She wiped her eyes, trying to regain her composure. “I know you’re trying to be civil, but it’s hard when it feels like everything about this interaction is a reminder of what we’ve lost.”
“Believe me,” Oliver said, his voice filled with sincerity, “I’m not trying to make this harder for you. I just want us both to find closure.”
Penelope looked down, her voice a whisper. “It’s just so difficult to see you move on and be happy when I’m still struggling to let go.”
Oliver felt a pang of empathy. “I get that. I’ve been trying to move forward, too. It’s not easy for either of us.”
The silence that followed Penelope's plea was almost palpable, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings and unresolved emotions. Penelope took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she gathered her composure. The tension in the air was thick, making every word seem like a monumental effort.
“I’ll go now,” Penelope said softly, her voice tinged with a mix of sadness and acceptance. “I didn’t mean to disrupt your evening. I just needed to say these things. Can you just keep the present? Every time I see it, I remember what I’ve lost.”
She began to turn away, her shoulders slightly hunched as if bearing the burden of her words. Oliver watched her, feeling a strange mixture of sympathy and frustration. There was something in the way she carried herself that made it difficult for him to completely shut out his lingering feelings.
Penelope paused and turned back around, her eyes locking with his for a brief, intense moment. Her expression was vulnerable, a silent plea for understanding. “Just please let me know if you ever change your mind and want to give us another go.”
Oliver felt a pang of unease. Her words lingered in the space between them, adding another layer to the emotional complexity of the evening. He struggled to find the right response, knowing that any answer would have far-reaching implications.
“Penelope,” he began carefully, “I don’t know what the future holds. Right now, I’m focused on moving forward and building something new. But I appreciate your honesty.”
Penelope nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of hope and resignation. “Thank you, Oliver. I truly wish you all the best.”
With one last lingering look, Penelope turned and walked away, her footsteps fading down the hall. Oliver closed the door behind him with a soft click, the sound echoing through the apartment like a final note in an uneasy symphony. He didn’t want to face his friends just yet; the conversation with Penelope had left him emotionally raw, and he needed a moment alone.
He walked quickly to the bedroom, his steps heavy with the weight of the encounter. The familiar comfort of the room did little to ease his turmoil. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Oliver looked down at the gift Penelope had left—a package wrapped in elegant paper tied with a delicate ribbon; in the center of the bow lay Oliver's engagement ring. The sight of it stirred a mixture of guilt and frustration within him.
He didn’t want Aurora to see the gift. He felt like he owed it to Penelope to keep it but owed it to Aurora to get rid of it.
With a sigh, Oliver decided to hide the gift. He lifted the edge of the bedspread and slid the package underneath, hoping it would remain out of sight and out of mind. He felt a pang of unease as he tucked it away, a silent acknowledgment that he was not ready to confront it just yet.
As he rejoined the gathering, Oliver struggled to regain his composure. His friends, though noticing the change in his demeanor, continued their attempts to keep the atmosphere light. The laughter and conversation around him felt distant, as if he were observing from behind a veil of his own making.