Part One

I thought that I'd been hurt before
But no one's ever left me quite this sore
Your words cut deeper than a knife
Now I need someone to breathe me back to life


Nothing can prepare you for what can happen. When the silence settles over the conversation and not even the eyes can be read. Your palms grow sweaty as you wonder what the next words will be. Will they be encouragement? Will they give you hope and a sense of happiness? Will you be able to let out that deep breath you've been holding in as you await judgement from those you love?

But then they turn towards each other exchanging looks, and with those looks all the hope you were feeling starts to fade and become dread. Then your worse fears are realized as those looks are turned in your direction and those silent questions are asked. What did I do wrong to make you this way? How can you be gay when you dated women? Is this just a phase? And as you stand there berated by looks they begin to realize what has just happened and the dread turns your stomach upside down and you now start to fear what they will say.

It's wrong.

My son can't possibly be gay.

Of all things you have to be gay?

Are you in love with a man right now?

When did you turn to the devil?

It was those things that made him leave. So many thought it was because he had wanted to advance in the world, that Percy was back to believing his family was holding him back. He would admit that his family was part of the reason he had left and that advancing had been on his mind but advancing in a different way. He had come out to them and he had hoped they would understand and help him become comfortable with himself. Sure there were parts he had kept to himself; about what happened in school, about the first boy he fell in love with. All his family had to know was that if they couldn't handle him being gay then he wouldn't be part of the family. Of course he was stubborn, how could he not be when those he loved the most couldn't see past his sexuality. It was painful say goodbye and to turn away from them but if they couldn't accept who he was then being with them just meant he would be a shell of a man. The most painful part was Molly kept trying to bring him back into the family with those little reminders in the form of Christmas presents or birthday gifts. To Percy though they were just reminders of how his family couldn't accept him, how they couldn't bring themselves to visit him in person and admit they were wrong. He would take one look at the sweater and be reminded as he threw it out of how they had forsaken him because of his choice. They would never know how he felt towards that one special person in his life. They would never know what it was like to see him truly smile because they never pushed past their prejudice and gave the idea a chance. They just didn't want anything to do with him.

So was that why he found himself sitting alone in front of a small fire warming his cold hands? Was he waiting for them to care enough to see what he had been doing with his life and where he was now?

No longer working for the Ministry as they would expect but on an extended leave. Would they be interested to know he was no longer living alone but with a man he was in a committed relationship with?

But then, why did it matter?

It mattered because they had taken ever inch of happiness away from him with harsh letters and pleads for him to come back and throw out this absurd idea of being homosexual. But it wasn't an idea. He was born this way and he was not going to change no matter what they said or did.

Looking down at his hands, those that hadn't touched a quill in over seven months, he sighed. This was as far away from how he pictured his life as he could get. He needed something to pick him up, a boost to get through the pressing issues of how his life had turned out. He needed his mind settled before he could even come close to deciding what should be done about the invitation that lay on the table.

"What's the matter?"

Percy was shaken from his thoughts by a blanket being draped over his shoulders and Oliver sitting down next to him.

Lifting his hands away from the fire Percy looked down at them, "Ten years."

"Ten years?" Oliver asked curiously.

"Ten years since they decided to exclude me from the so called family. And now they want me to come back for some sort of judgement, some sort of freak show spectacle." The words sounded more bitter then he had intended to make them but it was truthfully how he was feeling at the moment.

After a few moments, Oliver shifted and wrapped his arms around Percy. "You can always give them a second try. It wasn't easy for my parents to accept but they kept my secret."

"A secret," Percy muttered against his shoulder, "Is that what this is to you now that we've told them? Don't you think we owe it to ourselves to let go of all this hiding."

"I'm not the one hiding." Oliver said, running a hand through Percy's hair.

There was a silence between them for a few moments before Oliver continued. "We're in this together and I plan on being there this time around. I'm not going to leave you to defend yourself against the entire Weasley clan."

Percy closed his eyes and let himself find comfort in Oliver's arms. "They'll know. You could loose your job. Then where would we be?"

Oliver's grip tightened on him. Percy knew how much Oliver loved his job playing professional Quidditch, but to admit that he was gay could ruin everything for him.

"Maybe, I just won't go." Percy added.

"Then what would they think? They would think you were hiding something from them."

Percy pulled away from Oliver and looked back towards the fire. "I am though. I'm hiding you and it's killing me inside. I don't want to hide something I'm so proud of."

There was a slight chuckle from Oliver and Percy turned to give him a sharp glare. When the Scot noticed he immediately looked down at the floor, still smiling.

"What?"

"I just didn't expect someone like you to be proud of me." Oliver replied in a quiet voice.

"Of course I'm proud of you Oliver. I'm proud of everything about you. I'm proud of the way you never give up without a fight. I'm proud of the way you play Quidditch like it could be your last game. I'm proud of the way you act under pressure and how you always look out for me," Percy moved back towards him, cupping both sides of Oliver's face, "I'm proud of you for offering to come with me and I'm proud to love someone so wonderful." He kissed Oliver's forehead, brushing through the hair with his hands till he was hugging Oliver around the neck.

Oliver once again, wrapped his arms around Percy's waist but instead of holding him, he shuffled about till he could lift the smaller man up and carry him back into their room.

No protests came from Percy as he was carried, and once again laid down on their bed with the blanket pulled up over his shivering form.

"Promise me that you'll stay in bed for the rest of the night," Oliver said with a tired look, "I came in here with hot soup for you, and you had disappeared."

Percy looked away from him, grimacing at how dull the room appeared. "I can't promise."

Oliver leaned down towards him and kissed him quickly, "You can try. I don't want you sick forever."

"I'm perfectly fine Oliver," Percy protested as he attempted to sit up but was stopped.

"You're far from fine Percy. Just try to get some rest." Oliver stood up and walked towards the bookcase, which he had set the soup on. Testing it with his finger he sighed, "It's cold now." Picking up the tray, he walked out the room and closed the door behind himself leaving Percy to his thoughts.

Looking up at the room Percy groaned, his head was hurting again. At this rate he would forever be condemned to this spot in the bed. It would become his permanent home from now on. In the bed, with his head propped up to see that awful picture of Oliver and the twins laughing.

He had always been envious of that one but would never admit it to Oliver; he didn't want to take away the 'good-old-days' from the other mans life. Instead Percy turned his head as quickly as he could to look away from it. Oliver would be back soon with soup and it was sure to feel good on Percy's throat.

"They can't tell me what to do, whom to love." He muttered to himself closing his eyes tightly to block out the thought of his brothers. "They can't tell me I'm wrong for loving Oliver, they just can't. I'm Percy; I'm perfect Percy, always following the rules. I couldn't have broken a rule, could I?"

Rolling around in the bed, Percy tried to find a comfortable spot to sleep in but nothing seemed to calm his racing mind. As it was he was starting to become annoyed with the feeling of wool against his skin; blasted blankets.

Kicking them off, he looked at the white roof above the bed. Something had to get his mind off of his family. Maybe if he thought about what he would do when he got better, things would just gradually turn away from the former topic.

"I brought you some warm chicken soup." Oliver said re-entering the room. He had managed to prop open the door with his leg and pushed against it with his back leaving his hands free to hold the tray.

Percy's chin touched his chest as he looked towards Oliver for a moment, then he let his head fall back into its previous position.

"A little more enthusiasm would be nice. I'm trying here Perce. I've truthfully never really cooked this much in my life."

Percy lifted a hand and twirled it around as if to signify a 'whoopee'.

Sighing, Oliver walked further into the room and sat down on the bed beside Percy. He set the tray down over the night table on top of numerous books Percy had decided he was once again in the mood to read.

Then resting his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.

He sat like this for several minutes before running his hands through his hair.

"What's happened to us Percy?"

Percy didn't reply, instead he continued to stare up at the roof, eyeing a spot that was particularly interesting to him.

"We use to have the ability to not care what everyone else thought. We use to kiss everywhere and anywhere," he took a few deep breaths, hoping that Percy would at least give him a sign that he was listening. "Now it's different. Everyone is looking at us when we hold hands like it's some sort of sin and not an adolescent challenge we're overcoming. Look at you, you get sick whenever you see your family and we're together. I see it when your face pales, and you hide behind my back hoping that they don't see."

Percy still said nothing.

"Damn it, Perce. Are you even listening to me?" Oliver said, turning to look at him.

"Sometimes we have to loose things."

Oliver raised an eyebrow.

Percy's face turned towards him and lifted a hand to touch Oliver's face lightly.

"What are you talking about Perce?"

"Loose them in order to find out how important they really were to us."

"You never really lost your family Percy?" Oliver pointed out, but ignoring Oliver the redhead merely snuggled back against the pillows and blankets he lay on. "I love you, you know that." He muttered closing his eyes.

Oliver watched the man's hand fall away from his face as he curled up and attempted to fall asleep. He was silent for nearly an hour watching Percy; there were no words to say that would explain how he was feeling. No words to explain what he felt he had to do. Reaching down he pulled the pale grey sheets and a large patched quilt over Percy.

"I suppose you don't want your soup," he mused, kissing Percy's forehead. "That's alright...probably rubbish anyway."