Written for the Percy Weasley Challenge on HPFC

Prompts: "self-destruction" and "let it be"

His room was bare. His once avid reading had dwindled into just three books resting in forlorn bookshelf he had bought when he had still hoped for more. A single cupboard housed all of his clothes, few of which extended past his work robes. His mother would have a fit if she ever looked inside his kitchen to see just one set of cutlery and store bought non-perishables.

His mother would never see it though. None of his family would. He had made sure of that.

His mantelpiece held one family photo, from their trip to Egypt. His coffee table, strewn with paperwork, played host to the four letters he has received from his family since their parting. Two from his mother, and one each from his older brothers. They had all been read but none had he replied to; his pride refused.

His couch was probably the most luxurious thing he owned, considering he had chose to buy it rather than a bed. Besides, he had no space for a bed. The two room apartment was expensive enough on its own.

He had left everything behind when he had moved out of the Burrow.

He had no regrets.

He had no friends.

He should go visit Oliver one day. The Puddlemere Keeper was one of the few people he could stand and vice versa. He never followed the league, but he was pretty sure Puddlemere was winning. It was nigh impossible to imagine Oliver losing, not after their seventh year. He wished he had the same level of luck.

No, he did have some luck. Junior assistant minister of magic here, hello!

He deliberately didn't think of the empty nights and silent days, doing work in a cramped office which no one visited casually. He refused to think of the disappearing colleagues, the rising fear, Umbridge's new policies and the increasing presence of dark wizards.

Because doing so would be admitting failure. He would have to accept his family had been right - not just about his job, but who he was.

"Percy's just a prat."

"Perfect Prefect Percy - he acts like he's never been wrong in his life."

"Bighead Boy... It suits you, Perce."

"Sometimes, Molly, I think we did wrong by Percy. He's never going to fit in with the rest."

"It's not like Percy's ever cared about this family before."

He wished he could afford Firewhiskey, if only to drown out the voices in his head. They were all wrong. He couldn't just let it be.

He would show them just how much different, how much better he was than the image they had constructed of him. Even if it killed him.