Disclaimer: I do not owe Percy. Really I don't. I don't owe anything, really, except some ridiculously overpriced chemistry textbooks. JK owes everything you recognize.

Notes: I am generally following DH canon closely, but there will be a few differences. The biggest one is that Fred did not die. Sorry, but I liked him. Hope you guys enjoy!!! Oh yeah - the rating will be M because of some nasty things that happened in Percy's past; better safe than sorry!

Chapter One

Percy woke up suddenly, unsure of what had caused him to be jolted out of sleep, and blinked blearilyaround his small flat. His hand grasped blindly for his glasses, and he jammed them onto his nose. As his brain slowly woke up, he realised that the pounding on his door was what had woken him, and that it was twenty past three in the afternoon. Merlin, the meds are playing bloody hell with my sleep schedule. Well, the meds and the nightmares.

He stood up and almost fell, staggering hard against the coffee table. His leg buckled, and he would have gone down but for his death grip on the couch arm. Not for the first time in the past few months, he felt like an old, old man. At least ninety. No, definitely over one hundred he thought when his head started pounding synchronously with his knee, and all his joints ached, protesting the sudden movement.

"I'm here, one moment," He shouted. Or rather, tried to shout. It came out like more of a rasp. He grabbed for his cane, and slowly made the trek to the door that was not more than seven feet but felt like seven miles when his knee seized up like this. Wrenching the door open, he came face to face with a very worried Kingsley.

"Perce! Where the hell were you?! I've been out here 15 minutes." Percy could feel Kingsley's concerned brown eyes taking in the dark circles under his eyes, his ghastly pale and gaunt features, and the white knuckled grip he had on his cane. Percy could feel himself listing to one side, and so he wasn't surprised to find Kingsley's arm suddenly around his middle, as he was half carried to the couch.

"You have me worried, old man. I hate to see you so wrecked all the time. Trial starts next week – are you sure you'll be up to it?" Kingsley rummaged through his cupboard to find the kettle and get the water boiling.

"I'll be up to it, 'Lee I've waited too long otherwise." Percy stated, carefully propping his bad leg up on the coffee table.

"Nightmares getting worse?" Kingsley had, in his years as an Auror, mastered the nonchalant tone used for touchy subjects, but the last three years that he had spent as Percy's friend and bodyguard allowed Percy to see right through it. He swallowed hard, and tried to answer, but found he just didn't have the strength for a lie and couldn't bear to even look up and see Kingsley eye the many pills he had on his counter. His silence was answer enough, he supposed, and he heard Kingsley sigh before changing the subject.

"I was talking to Bill the other day – I swear the man has so many baby pictures on him that with a good stiff breeze,he'd be like a walking snowstorm. Although I'll admit that little Vickie is pretty darn cute." Kingsley busied himself around the kitchen, warming the tea pot, and putting the milk in their mugs.

"Vickie? I have a hard time believing that's what Fleur calls her!" Percy leaned his head back and closed his eyes, but he could feel himself smiling as some of the perpetual tension in his bones melted away.

"You know me and short names, Perce," came the reply from the kitchen. "Have you seen her yet?"

"Victoire? No." And just like that, the tension was back. He could feel the guilt gnawing his insides. He knew it was hurting Bill that he hadn't seen his daughter, but he was so tired all the time. And his spectacular crash after the final battle had meant that he was holed up for a few weeks in a coma. Maybe ingesting all those potions hadn't been such a great idea for his health, but it had allowed him to fight with his family and watch their back without the pain of his injuries showing. Of course, the damage he had suffered at His hands was now permanent, but he felt it was a small price to pay for standing by his family.

"Percy . . ." Kingsley trailed off, looking at him sadly. He'd obviously been stuck in his thoughts for some time now, as Kingsley held a cup of tea out to him. "Why don't you just talk to them? They miss you."

"No, they don't. I'm not stupid 'Lee, I know that they're angry with me – hell, I'm angry at me, and I know that they'll never trust me again. I just don't know how to fix this. I though I was doing the right thing, I really did. Now I don't know if they'd even believe me if I told them. And the trial is confidential anyway. No, no. It's best if I just keep my distance. I can deal with this on my own. I can." He was horrified at the burst of word that rushed from him in a torrent, but Kingsley just looked at him.

"Kid – Percy… you're not alone. I'm your friend, remember?"

"'Lee, you're the bloody Ministry of Magic. You don't have time to be my friend. You have more important things to do." Percy lectured, slipping into his annoying pompous voice, the one that usually stole any pity people were feeling for him. As the "bloody Minister of Magic" raised his eyebrows, Percy realised he should've remembered that it had the opposite effect on Kingsley.

"What's more important than helping a friend?"