Eventually Penelope had gotten a bit more of a grip on herself that she was able to answer Harry's question about the nightmares. "I hadn't slept the night before, and last night I dreamt of someone cutting my fingers off. It reminded me of--" she couldn't even bring herself to speak about what it reminded her off. Instead she looked at the floor and started to compose herself by counting the speckles on the tile.
Once she had her breathing in check she spoke again, significantly more clearly and much less hysterically. "It wasn't a memory though, it clearly was a dream, despite how realistic it was. There was someone I obviously loved and trusted there, but I can't remember who it was--just the expression on his face spoke to that."