For the QLFC S7 R4, written as a reserve seeker for the Tutshill Tornados
Prompt: "We're a clumsy family, we make mistakes."
The mood is somber and the air is still. Percy feels suffocated in his ministry-approved suit and tie. It feels wrong, somehow, to be wearing the apparel of his greatest shame to his brother's funeral. Part of him thinks that if he'd stuck by his family, if he'd listened to them and stayed, then maybe Fred wouldn't have died. It's a silly thought. Logically, he knows that it's impossible to assign and take away guilt like some sort of game, and yet the thought persists.
They've been in their small, village graveyard since the early morning when the sun had barely risen in the sky. In the beginning, his father had attempted to say some words about Fred, but his words had choked off as a fresh wave of tears ran down his face. Now they stood in silence around Fred's grave, holding onto each other for dear life. Harry and Hermione stand respectfully behind the family, holding onto Ron with both hands. If not for their support, he thinks that Ron might have toppled over long before then. The sight of it makes his heart lurch painfully, so he looks away.
Percy loosens his tie and sweats profusely in the summer sun. The grave marker is plain and undecorated. With the aftermath of the war, there had been a shortage of them and it had been the only one they could get. It doesn't suit his loud, mischievous, larger than life brother at all. The feeling of wrongness builds. He shouldn't be here. He doesn't deserve to be here.
It's Harry who eventually leads them out of the graveyard. Percy had hated him for the longest time, but now all he feels is defeat and shame. Harry had stuck by them no matter what. It's more than he can say for himself.
They take the small dirt road leading out of the cemetery and back home and Percy finds himself trailing at the back of the group, right next to George. He's quite possibly the last person Percy wants to see right now, but he's had enough of running away. This time, he'll do things right.
"I-I'm sorry," he manages to say quietly after scrounging up all of his courage. He can't bring himself to look at George's face as he says this, nor move any closer to him.
George doesn't react at all. In fact, he doesn't say anything for a long time. Percy wonders if he should speak up again, but his nerves falter so he says nothing at all. Coward, his brain silently accuses him. He knows.
They're almost at the Burrow when George says, "Don't," his voice wet and his face stony. Percy startles at his voice. "Don't apologize. Is it not enough that he—that he's dead?"
"If I hadn't joined the Ministry, maybe…" He trails off. Maybe Fred wouldn't have died. He can't say it.
"Don't be stupid, Percy," George scoffs, scorn in his voice.
The phrase is so familiar that Percy lets out a choked laugh, and once he starts laughing, he finds he can't stop. He may or may not be more than slightly hysterical. They'd been talking quietly up until then, but now the rest of the family stops on the path to stare quizzically at the two of them.
"What's wrong?" Arthur queries.
"Percy thinks that it's his fault that Fred died," George reports dully. "He thinks that if he hadn't joined the Ministry none of this would've happened. Someone tell him how stupid he is."
Arthur's eyebrows lift, and he looks so flabbergasted that the grief is temporarily lifted off his face.
Molly's hands fly up to her throat. "Is that true, Percy?" she asks.
"Well," Percy says weakly.
Molly stomps up to him and grasps him firmly by the arms, her face suddenly stern. She examines Percy's face with the same intensity that had always scared the twins into behaving—temporarily, at least. "It's not your or anyone's fault that Fred is gone but Voldemort and the Death Eaters'. I never want to hear that sort of talk from you again, am I clear?"
Percy looks around at the faces of his friends and family around him. "I—yes. Okay. But it still doesn't mean what I did wasn't wrong." The admission is shameful to hear aloud.
Molly's frown drops and she lets out a weak smile. "Oh, Percy," she sighs. "We're a clumsy family, and we make mistakes. You came back for us in the end and that's all that matters."
Ron speaks up, finally. His voice is quiet, but he meets Percy's gaze with a fierceness that surprises him. "It's true. Back when Harry and Hermione and I were hunting for the Horcruxes, I left them. I left in the middle of everything, abandoned my two best mates. You're not the only one who messed up, Perce. And you don't get to blame yourself for everything."
Hermione lifts up her chin and stares at him as if daring him to say something about Ron. But Percy only feels surprise, then relief. The aftermath of their confessions feels like a breath of fresh air, and Percy feels something lifting from his chest that he hadn't even realized was there. His family may have forgiven him, but he'll have to work harder to make up for his mistakes, if only for himself. He's surprisingly okay with this.
"Okay," Percy says. He takes a deep breath. The group of them start down the path again and the familiar, towering sight of the Burrow is more than enough to bring a fresh wave of tears to his eyes. It had been so long since he'd seen it. He traces his eyes over the familiar crooked contours of the house, the overgrown weeds, the dirtied windows, the arched door. No one comments on the tears tracing a path down his face or the way his glasses fog up.
Yet a slight smile curls on his face as well. For the first time in a long while, he feels like everything is going to be okay now. For the first time in a long while, he's finally home.