Percy took the paper and read the entry. With every word, it felt as if a fist were tightening around his heart. Penelope had wanted nothing to do with him for the longest time, and he hand't known much about what had happened to her in Azkaban, aside from the occasional taunt launched at him by Rookwood and others. It genuinely upset him that she still suffered greatly from her experience, and he was so absorbed in his reading that he didn't realize his feelings were on full display upon his face.
And then came the description of Penelope's dream, and an ice cold shiver went up his spine. It did indeed match with his, right down to the order of fingers cut, and the pleading, and the feeling that the other person was so very dear...
He didn't know what to say. Unlike so many others, he had been dismissing his nightmares as nothing but disturbing dreams that had provided a break in the weekly nightmares of his brother's death. He hadn't been wanting to think anything of them, had deemed them inconsequential.
Could he have been wrong? As his family would definitely remind him, it wouldn't be the first time. Was that not why he had entered his own dream description, even if it was anonymous?
"Yes, it was me," he finally acknowledged, trying to pull himself back together. "I can't explain why, however, we might have had the same dream. We haven't spoken for several years."