Thicknesse paced in front of Percy's desk. It was the same every day.
"Haven't spoken to your father today, Weasley? How about your mother? You must be worried sick about them." The Minister of Magic stroked his beard and watched the man-boy with bated breath. One wrong move…
"Not at all, Minister." Percy pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. "I am loyal to this Ministry."
Thicknesse stared a moment longer. "Good to hear. You'll alert us at the first contact with your traitorous family. I'm sure I make myself clear."
Percy nodded and set about emptying his inbox. When the door closed behind the minister, the scratching of his quill stopped. Percy's forehead fell to the desk. His days at the ministry were numbered. Bloody mental to even want to stay, Ron would say. Fred and George too.
He hadn't seen any of them for so long, not even his father. After the Weasleys were tagged as Undesirables, Arthur fled the ministry. But before that, they hadn't spoken pleasantly. The times Percy and Arthur found themselves in the elevator were tense with anger, unspoken regrets, and refusals to apologize. It was his father's pride, Percy knew. What else could it possibly be? Certainly not him.
And his mother…
She sent a Howler when he declined the invitation to Bill's wedding. "YOU'RE NOT BLOODY COMING!" It shrieked, and the Death Eaters roaming Scrimgeour's building had nodded their approval, exchanging looks promising Percy would be one of them soon. So loyal. That's what their snaggle-toothed smiles had said.
But he was loyal! Maybe this Minister was a Death Eater, but surely Voldemort didn't control them all. Thicknesse was a politician, Voldemort a madman. Different sides of the effing spectrum, Percy thought.
He resumed his paperwork, steadfastly ignoring the little voice in his head that wondered if he would ever see his family again, prayed that they weren't dead.
An hour later, a ruckus started outside his office. He narrowed his eyes and ignored it, knowing the Minister expected these lists updated by lunchtime. The commotion grew louder, and as Percy slammed his quill down and unfolded himself from the chair to give them a piece of his mind, his door burst open.
A balding man with weeping sores around his eyes stomped into his office. "Them snatchers got your brother, Weasley! Get what 'e deserves, 'e will."
The little voice in his head was as loud as his mother's Howler. It roared through his mind. Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron…which did they have? If it were Ron, they may have Harry. And maybe Ginny!
Oh, God.
Percy rushed around his desk, pushed the bulbous man aside, and flew out of his office. He made it three steps before plowing into an enormous Death Eater. The giant picked Percy up by his starched collar and turned him toward the Minister of Magic as he approached.
"Loyal to this ministry, Weasley? But where are you going? Surely you're not worried about your traitor of a brother?" Thicknesse was smiling. It was a dreadful, sickening sight, and Percy clawed at the chubby fingers at his throat. He had been set up! His anger was drowned by the still-booming voice. They have Ron! Your parents are next! Get out of here, Percy! And on and on…
He went limp, forcing the hulking man to set him on his feet. Quick as a game of exploding snap, he grabbed his wand from under his robes and cast three, lightning-quick Confundus charms. The big man let him go, and the Minister stood in frozen astonishment. The third spell raced ahead of Percy as he sprinted toward the lobby, searching his brain for somewhere, anywhere, he could hide. The Burrow and his flat would be idiotic. He was sure they were being watched. He didn't know where Bill and Fleur lived and wasn't privy to the secrets of the Order. Hogwarts was overrun with Ministry-picked officials, and the Three Broomsticks was too public.
The shadowed lobby appeared and so did a handful of guards. The Confundus hit one. He swished and flicked, and a cornstalk of a woman flew out of sight. A body bind curse here and a Stupify there, and Percy made it to a fireplace. He threw in a handful of Floo powder and whispered a destination.
The Hog's Head Inn had never looked more enchanting. Percy lay on the floor of a bedroom, his wand held to his heart and his eyes darting from corner to corner. The door opened, and he raised his wand, tucking his feet under him.
"Put your wand down, boy, and keep quiet." The grizzled, blue-eyed man grumbled louder with each step. Percy let out the breath he was holding and straightened his glasses. This Dumbledore-ish man didn't appear to be dangerous. "You stay in here, get some rest, and I'll bring up some food later. I'm guessing you have a lot to think about."
His wand tip followed the man out the door, and when it clicked shut, Percy jumped forward and threw the bolt. He cast a silencing charm on the room as an afterthought. Once finished, he sagged against the aged wood and breathed. Long gulps of air meant to settle him, but couldn't quite do the job. He stood quickly and paced. Bed to wall, wall to bed, bed to dresser, dresser to door. Over and over, thinking about loyalty.
Would the Minister have killed him? Used him as bait?
Then Percy remembered that they had Ron. He snatched his glasses off his nose and pulled at his hair. Would they kill his brother?
Of course they would, the little voice answered, once again very soft. You think of loyalty, Percy Weasley, but you betrayed your loved ones for those who tricked and used you. They would've killed you without batting a lash, and you were loyal to them.
He argued, his voice loud around the room. "I was a perfect employee! I did my job and did it well. The Ministry has never fallen. Why would now be any different?"
But it is, said the voice. The Ministry is full of snakes, puppets to their slithering master. Are you loyal to them, Percy? Loyal to the Dark Lord who would slaughter your father and brothers, let his minions rape your mother and sister. Is that what you want? Your family beaten, broken, and dead at the hands of a monster! Is that where your loyalty lies?
He fell to his knees under the onslaught of questions, and the tears came. Hot, gushing tears as every fear he had swept to the back of his mind and every doubt, every snide comment to his father, every pompous remark to the twins, every pompous remark PERIOD, snuck up on him. His forehead pressed to the ground. In that cold room, he cried out his soiled loyalty to a ministry of fools, liars, and murdering villains. Wailed his apologies to a family who wouldn't want him now. To friends who likely wrote him off long ago.
A hand on his shoulder snapped him to reality. He fumbled for his fallen wand.
"It's okay, son. Just me." The old man stared with only the slightest shred of sympathy. The sky outside was darkening, and Percy wondered how long he had been crushed to the floor by his breakdown. A cup of tea was thrust into his hand before the man shuffled to the door.
"Families are funny, you know? Sometimes they love, other times they hate, and happy endings are never guaranteed." He left Percy with that depressing thought and a tray of food. How very odd.
Percy picked at his meal with his back squeezed into the furthest corner of the room, and he thought.
And thought.
And thought.
And eventually, he changed his loyalties. Even if the endings weren't going to be happy.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this. Feel free to review or follow my blog. I appreciate your time. -Lily