"Moments like these, trust me, they'll come back to haunt you."
-Faunts, "Out on a Limb"
Over and over, Percy tells himself that it's the right thing to do. His family is following Dumbledore blindly. You-Know-Who cannot be back, and it's only for the best that he sever the ties before their paranoia finds home in his mind.
He turns his back on them because he sees no other choice. He has himself to think about, his place at the Ministry, his dream of becoming more than just another Weasley.
It's for the best. He repeats the reassurance over and over in his head as he walks away.
.
"I dunno, mate," Oliver says. "Seems a bit cold, doesn't it?"
Percy squirms, absently swirling his tea in his cup. "Maybe," he admits grudgingly through gritted teeth.
"It doesn't bother you? I mean, they're your family."
"I'm well aware. And I'm at peace with my choices, Wood."
.
Percy sees the Burrow in his dreams. He reaches out for the door, but his hand passes through it like smoke.
He sees his mother's face peering out at him through a window, beckoning him to come inside.
But he can't. His childhood home grows more and more distant each time he tries to open the door, until it's just a blurry shape in the distance.
Percy bolts upright in his bed, eyes wide.
.
He sees his father at work, and he almost stops to talk. Then that painful voice in his head, his own voice, yelling and raging, reminds him that he's messed it all up.
You think it's easy having you as a father, as it is? I'm a joke at the Ministry! And now you're spouting this rubbish!
Percy hangs his head in shame, walking past his father and pretending not to notice him.
.
"I want to go home," Percy admits.
Oliver sighs, pouring him another glass of wine. "Then go. I've met your folks. Good people. They'll forgive you, you know."
"I know."
"But you won't go back because...?" Oliver prompts.
"They might forgive, but I don't think I can forgive myself."
