Disclaimer: The usual of course.
Claimer: I do own this idea.
Synopsis: Two years after the war. Percy hasn't spoken to his family for four years, then he meets the most unlikely person... and she offers him help.
A/N: I had serious writers block, but I wanted to write this for a while. It may be a few chapters long. Enjoy!
From Across a Bar
From the moment he walked in, he could feel eyes on him. He choose to ignore the stares as he walked over to the counter, peering at the prices. He frowned, and turned, taking a seat at a table. At last, he allowed himself to look around.
The bar was practically empty. A man with a robe pulled tightly around himself, his face hidden by a paper was sitting in the corner, directly next to the door. The barman was behind the bar, cleaning some glasses, glancing uneasily at Percy.
At in the far corner, out of sight, Percy knew of a woman sitting at the back, drinking heavily. It was she who had taken to watching him intently.
A few minutes later, and a drink was heavily placed on the table. "I'm sorry," Percy told the man. "I can't pay for this."
"From the lady at the back," the barman told him, nodding sharply, and walking back to the bar. Percy didn't turn to face the woman, turn to look at her, even offer her a thank you. He just sat, staring at the door, silently wishing his father to walk in, welcoming him back to the Burrow. It hadn't happened yet. But Percy lived on hope.
He heard a cough from behind him, a hoarse laugh, and a sigh. That door was beginning to look as though it was getting further and further away from Percy's seat. "Y'know, when people do something nice for another person, generally people reply with a thanks."
Percy did not turn to face the woman, but sighed heavily. "Thank you," he said coldly and almost robotically.
"You're just like them aren't you? Uncaring, unfeeling? I'd be surprised if you even knew your name anymore." She was beginning to irritate him, but he allowed himself to reply.
"What's in a name anyway?"
"You're just like the men that come here every night. Drinking, living on hopes and dreams... but let me tell you something darling. Don't become one of them. Those dreams never come true if you don't do something about them." Again, she coughed.
"And how can you presume to tell me what to do?" Percy questioned.
"Just look at you sweetie. You're a mess. You wouldn't last a week living like I do."
"I've survived so far." He allowed himself to face her. He glared uneasily into her cold green eyes. She smiled.
"You a fighter. I respect that. But everyone has a weakness." She slammed some money onto the bar, and the barman hurriedly handed her a drink. "Drink up," she told him. "There's plenty more where that came from," she told Percy.
He looked at the drink, but did not take a sip. "But drink is obviously not your weakness. And now, we reach the questioning. Why are you allowing yourself to live like this?"
"I don't know you. Why should I tell you?"
"Percy Weasley right?" She laughed. "I recognised you the moment you walked in." She tapped her red-heeled shoes on the floor a few times. "You had the perfect life along with your brothers and your sister and yet, you threw that all away. You always would have made a great Slytherin."
"How do you know me?"
"I was in your brother's year." She stretched out her hand. "Pansy Parkinson." He stared at her hand, and she snatched it back. "I see house loyalty hasn't changed. Even when you're living like one of us. Thinking like one of us."
He glanced down at his table. "You see that man over there?" she asked him. "His name's Metherus Sanderson. He was once as you are now. He chose his money over his family. Work over those he cared about. That's been his table for ten years. Ten years of struggle, pain. Ten years in which he could have been happy. Why don't you swallow your pride huh? Or, are you too much of a 'big strong man' to do that?"
"It isn't your place to discuss my personal business."
"If you don't discuss it with me, who can you discuss it with? It's too late for me sweetheart. My time dried up a while ago. But you still have a chance to turn it all around. Want to give life a chance again, same place, same time tomorrow. Not interested, then..." She shrugged. "You're throwing away a dream. You're throwing away your final hope."
And with that, Pansy picked up her bag, took a large gulp from her drink, and walked past Percy's table. She placed some money on his table. "The barman here can give you a room for the night. Sleep well."
He watched the door close behind her, and he stared at it for a while. Finally, he stood up, and asked for a room.