there is going to be a lot of conflict in this fanfiction. a lot of anger and pain. there used to be more of a filler but i tried to remedy it a little bit because i just introduced Percy 'for real' since the first chapter was Audrey's perception. it used to be more filler-y until i added the Audrey and Percy bit in the beginning and the George bit in the end. it's gotten a little too lengthy for my taste (and then i added some more because that's very rational). there's no way of writing this chapter without writing a lot of what Percy feels because he's the main character (obviously). i've rewritten this twice because i didn't like the original one - actually, thrice including the changes today. so hopefully this goes down better. um, this is not a happy fanfiction obviously. this is nice, full-on angst in the best way possible. the characters are so angry. i can't even begin to control them. i don't even know how i'm supposed to bring Bill back from the clutches of evil right now. last fanfiction, it was Arthur and this one, Bill's been corrupted. poor Bill. and Molly. and Arthur too because i love the 'Percy was not treated well' storylines in some Percy angst stories. i know that they are good parents, but i can't help it. i try to redeem them a little to be fair xxx
i wrote the next two chapters, they need a bit of formatting and editing (this one took three rewrites after all!), etc but i cannot wait to post them! the problem is has not been accepting of my other chapters i think because it is on OneDrive, so i will try and download my fanfiction off OneDrive and writing it using Microsoft Word only maybe it will help! but so far, they are a strict Percy POV and i think most of this fanfiction will be a Percy POV.
i also want to have it go on record that English is not my first language.
comment replies:
malfoyravenclaw555: it's the same for me! i have a love/hate relationship with post DH Percy stories, but since they're usually filled with angst... i really can't say no!
Phoenixx Rising: it's nice to see you here. ;) hopefully you'll like this fanfiction. though i must admit i've given myself the pass to go as crazy as i want so this should be interesting.
Killthemalldaenerys: honestly, i don't know where this is going in particular... but i hope somewhere interesting as well!
Love and Old Black Shoes
Chapter Two
After he left Audrey's, Percy went back to his flat, dawned her whole creamy, orange smoothie down and in about an hour, the fuzzy, grey dots in his vision started to go away and his heart stopped racing so much. His skin felt less clammy, and he didn't feel as if any moment, he was going to collapse into an unconscious heap on the floor.
Percy walked back to Audrey's flat after he washed her bottle for her. He knocked on her door, and prepared himself to say something that wasn't completely out of the mouth of an unsociable git.
When Audrey opened the door, she looked surprised to see him stood there with her clean bottle.
Audrey tentatively accepted it, and then stared at him for some time. It was very awkward, and Percy did not like to be stared at. He bit his tongue back, because he did not want to tell her something cold and terrible. Still, there wasn't anything interesting about his face—other than the fact that he looked gloomy enough to have his own weather forecast. Percy caught sight of himself in the mirror before he left. He was never going to win Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, but this was just absurd.
"Um..." Audrey rubbed her arm, and then stared down at the floor. "Have a nice trip to-to-to... England."
"We are in England, Miss Brown," Percy chided, then flushed and offered a very awkward smile. He bet he looked like he wanted to murder her and dump her body in the river rather than friendly and welcoming. He cleared his throat and then said in a weak voice, "Devon. I live in Devon."
"Oh," she said, but she didn't look embarrassed. She liked staring at him a lot. It seemed that it prevented her from blushing as much, and Percy rubbed his neck, offering a semi-nice smile. "That's a long way from London."
"Is it?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow before flushing. "I mean—yes... it is!"
Audrey laughed at this point, and he was stood there, looking like a twat.
"Should we go now?" Percy suddenly asked, and Audrey looked confused. "The coffee that I've promised you?"
"Oh... yes... YES!" Audrey walked to put on her orange cardigan. Percy didn't know why considering it was boiling outside, and Percy's bones had long liquidised down to broth. Thank Merlin for Mr Joseph's Long-Acting Anti-Perspirant. Saving him from having giant puddles of sweat under his arms... tragic. "Are you actually drinking coffee then this time? Oh, you can tell me more about your job. I've always wondered what you did. You look young! You aren't thirty, are you? Because if you are, you are very young looking for a thirty-year-old."
"I am most definitely not thirty!" Percy yelled back. "I'm twenty-two! I don't have a job anymore... I resigned!"
Percy went red in the face. He had swallowed the lump in his throat. "I most definitely did not mean to yell."
Audrey didn't seem to mind the yelling. She looked shocked the minute he said that he was twenty-two, but she moved closer to him, like she suddenly wasn't scared to be seen around him. Percy was aghast. Did he really look thirty? Merlin, he knew that stress aged a person, but he never thought that he looked thirty.
"I'm sorry," Audrey said. "It's just knowing that you probably have an office job makes me think you're old. Had an office job."
"Thank you for reminding me, Miss Brown," Percy sarcastically said. He was not supposed to talk to women. He sounded like an arsehole. Well, he was an arsehole but he shouldn't be one towards a muggle woman. "Yes, I had an office job. An important office job that had gotten me into a lot of political drama, unlawful slaughter and uncomfortable underpants."
By then, Percy realised that not only had he walked straight past the coffee shop near the flat five minutes ago and hadn't even noticed, but he was also talking about his undergarments to a strange woman... a muggle woman!
"Uncomfortable underpants you say," Audrey said, trying to sound as posh as possible. Perfect. She sounded exactly like Lucius Malfoy, except with a much larger set of knockers.
Percy smiled, and this time, it was genuine. He knew because when he genuinely smiled, he had to look down at his feet to keep the other person from noticing he could actually smile.
"Oh my God," Audrey moved towards him, standing in front of him. She seemed to have no problem with touching him because she pulled his face up to have a good look at him. "Is that a smile? Oh, IT IS!"
Percy looked away from her. His smile had stretched into a full on beaming grin.
They walked and walked and after that, they were the farthest away from that coffee shop and no others seemed to be in sight. Which was just as well because this walk felt extremely magical. It made him feel warm and gooey inside and it wasn't just the scorching sun talking either.
By the time that they'd gotten to the normal muggle bus stop so that he could go to the train station to go to Devon (which he was not taking! He was taking the bloody Knight Bus), Percy smiled over at her.
She wrapped her arms around him, and then stared at him again. But Percy allowed himself to be an Oliver Cartwright portrait for the moment no matter how uncomfortable it was for him. Did he have a spot on his face? He would never know. And it wasn't like Percy could tell the difference between his spots and freckles anymore.
Audrey moved very close to him. It was confusing. Maybe she wanted him to see something, like her big bulging eyes staring at him in a freakish manner and boring into his soul. She looked like she was about to devour him. Maybe she was a muggle crystal ball reader like he'd heard of before from muggleborn Penelope Clearwater. Maybe she could see his future and could see him slouched on the couch, with a giant gaping hole in his head where his brain used to be.
Percy offered an uneasy smile. "I suppose that you are not angry at me for my foolishness anymore?"
"No," Audrey shook her head. "You're forgiven." She ran her hand through his hair, which was very odd.
It also made him feel like a Kneazle. Did muggle women always run their hands through their muggle male friends' hairs in an extremely stalkerish manner? Percy would never know. But he bared it this time around because he was a complete arse to her last time. And she was nice. Save for the staring and unsolicited touching.
His own mother didn't touch him as much as a wee toddler. Honestly, Audrey. She should behave herself. A lot of blokes would get the wrong message. Sexual messages.
Percy nodded his head. "Alright. I'll... I'll have to go now." Despite Audrey being very touchy and a stare-r (was this a word?), he did actually have a nice time with her. He hadn't felt good in days.
Since the battle, he'd spent every day attempting not to kill himself at night. Well, in all honesty, he would've killed himself the night he came back to his flat but apparently, fighting a battle to the death drained one out. He was knocked out well into ten in the morning. And he would've killed himself the second he woke up, but he couldn't think of a death violent enough to atone for all his sins. He decided that refusing to sleep or eat until he figured out how he wanted to kill himself was a pretty wonderful plan. If all else failed, he would die from the lack of sleep and starvation, which was highly unpleasant. Just as he wanted it at the very least. Or that was his plan until Audrey reminded him that he hadn't atoned for his biggest sin yet: he was a gigantic git to his family and needed to make sure that he helped them cope with Fred's death. It was the least they could do considering he was the reason Fred was dead.
It was late in the afternoon by the time that Percy left for Devon via the Knight Bus.
He managed to offer the bus conductor the little wizarding money he had—and thank Merlin's socks he had enough because most of his money was in pounds. He'd been living in muggle London for ages now, and he honestly thought that living with them would be easy. He got an O in muggle studies after all but...
A musical blender. Really. And Percy bought his own recently, but didn't have the daftest clue how to put it together. The instructions manual might as well have been written in bloody Elvish!
What a twat he was! He woke up a muggle woman at three in the morning. How obscenely horrible!
He might as well have gone down to the store with Audrey so he could buy a pair of nappies. Merlin knew he could use a change of the ones he was wearing now. He was certainly not allowed to drag his twenty-something-year-old coffee lover slash smoothie enthusiast slash never-stopped-talking almost-flatmate of his into his bundle of ever-multiplying neuroses. At least poor dead Fred was having a good laugh at him. Being stared at by a muggle woman that he had wronged and then insisted on waking up at an unholy hour of the night to lie close to because he couldn't sleep on his bed. It was too wet after he cried his eyes out, and nearly massacred his throat with wretched sobs.
Wonderful. Spectacular. Completely and utterly sensational.
Sat in the Knight Bus, Percy curled up and pressed his head against the window. He was going to see his family. What joy. They'd love to see him now that he'd killed Fred. When he thought of it, he felt this crushing pain form in his chest. He buried his head into his lap, trying to ignore the two blokes behind animatedly about Quidditch of all bloody things. They'd just ended the biggest war in ages, and the sports column still generated more interest than the end of worldly destruction and dismay. Where was Fred's column in The Daily Prophet about how happy he was before Percy's jealousy had gotten the best of him and he watched his brother got slaughtered in cold blood?
He sighed. Percy wasn't always selfish. He used to be so nice.
When he was eight, Percy used to wash off the dirt and mud off Fred and George before their mum caught them and took away their pudding privileges. At ten, Percy once even took them to use Bill's broom because he wanted someone to be with them when they used it. He'd overheard them saying that they were going to do it. Stopping them never came to mind, but supervising them definitely did. At eleven, just before Percy went off to Hogwarts, he told Fred and George where he kept his spare money so that they could buy anything they wanted. At thirteen, Percy turned a blind eye to their plans on making 'sweets that make you sick' because he thought that he'd confiscated enough of their plans for the year. He'd pretend he just didn't see that one. After all, he did have a visual impairment! At fifteen, Percy didn't accept them making fun of his Pinhead Prefect status, but he did get them out of more detentions than they could ever dream of. At seventeen, he prevented Katie Bell from socking Fred in the face after he made a comment about the size of her arse. She socked Percy instead... all five-feet of her managed to sock him! The six-foot-two bloke! Fred and George seemed to find that bloody hilarious.
Then Percy disowned his own family and Fred and George dropped out of school and they didn't tell him. He could even remember the pain that he felt when he had to find it out from the bloody lady working at Ministry Munchies.
Those two brothers of yours really like to get into a lot of trouble, she said, and then laughed. Percy was distraught. He couldn't even look at the pumpkin pasty that he'd bought for himself. Do you think you can get me an autograph?
The truth was Percy very well knew that the twins made more money in a day than Percy probably did in a month. Those two ran a joke shop and garnered more respect from everyone that he knew than Percy ever had in his whole entire life. Percy, as usual, jealous as he sat there in his boring living room staring at his boring papers that didn't make any sense anymore. He sat through all his exams and cried himself to sleep, unable to get out of bed as he wrote to Penelope about his fears. His proudest moment—his 12 O.W.L's and later on, his 12 N.E.W.T's—all of it meant nothing. Those two didn't even have any O.W.L's!
His calculations for succeeding at life were off by miles.
It wasn't about the money. Even if he didn't make as much money, he didn't spend a knut out of necessity. In fact, even with his poorly income, Percy had this sudden influx of money and it was just rotting in his Gringott's bank account because Percy had always given whatever money he had to someone else. Fifteen-year-old Percy offering it to Ron on his first day in Hogwarts. Sixteen-year-old Percy sneakily giving some to Ginny when she said she'd wanted to buy herself Quidditch supplies. Seventeen-year-old Percy giving big flowers and late-night dinners for Penelope. And now, he couldn't give it to anyone because he had disowned his bloody family—and he killed Fred he killed Fred he killed his baby brother oh Merlin what kind of monster was he how dare he hurt Fred how dare.
Percy spent his whole life planning everything. He calculated every movement with precision. He could see himself somewhere amazing in ten years' time. Now, he could barely see himself past ten minutes of his life.
At the Burrow, Percy managed to weed through the army of gnomes to get to the front door. He knocked but nobody answered. He tried to jimmy the door open and was alarmed when he realised that the door wasn't locked.
Forget additional protective charms—the door was bloody open! They hadn't even bothered with the bloody key!
When he got inside the house, the first thing that Percy did was lock the door. After that, he had a look at the living room and the colour drained right out of his face. He made a very unattractive squeaky sound because his childhood home looked more like a storage unit of All Things Defective and Ghastly. The Burrow was never really spotless, but Percy was now knee-deep in rubbish. Percy held his breath because he did not think it was wise to breathe in the surrounding air particles in case they had been sullied like the rest of the house.
The carpet was nowhere to be seen! And to get through to the stairs, Percy had to sail through a valley of tortured tea pots and tormented trophies. He would have to apparate inside his own house to get to his room because of the rubbish.
"ZIS IS NOT FAIR!" Fleur's voice sounded out, as she appeared out of seemingly nowhere. She looked haggard, and worn down. "YOU ARE NOT LIKE ZE MAN ZAT I 'AVE MARRIED! I WILL NOT STAND FOR ZIS!"
"Well, then don't stand for it, my love!" Bill mocked in an acerbic tone of voice that sent shivers down Percy's spine.
"DO NOT MOCK ME!" Fleur shouted back at him, hot tears flowing freely down her face. "EVER SINCE ZE ATTACK, YOU 'AVE BECOME A MONSTER! I WILL NOT STAND FOR ZIS... NEVER!"
They seemed completely unaffected by the Mess. Percy knew that Bill's face was slashed horrifically, but he never knew that Bill was also blind. Hell, even a blind bloke could tell they were living in trash considering it would take them at least ten minutes to get from Point to Point B. That was, without getting engulfed in goo, broken toys, and old photo albums that smelled of fags and Kneazle piss.
Fleur disapparated then, so it was just Bill and Percy. And it seemed to Percy that Bill looked like he wanted to tear off anyone's face but especially Percy's. And honestly? Percy would rather it be him than Bill's wife.
The way he talked to her was unforgivable! And here he was, frantically annoyed at himself for what he'd said to and done to Audrey... it paled in comparison to how he talked to his wife (not that Percy was excusing his horrendous actions. He was no saint either). Bill made her CRY. His own wife!
"I SUPPOSE YOU'RE HERE TO GIVE ME MARRIAGE ADVICE?!" Bill spat out, and Percy stiffened. "TO THE WEDDING THAT YOU DIDN'T ATTEND BECAUSE YOUR HEAD IS STUCK UP YOUR OWN ARSE!"
Percy was flabbergasted. He had never seen Bill like this. He didn't think it was even possible.
Percy didn't say anything about him, or Fleur, for the sake of his teeth. "Why is the door unlocked?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow over at Bill. "I know that the war just ended but this is ridiculous."
Bill snorted, as if it was an unimportant thing to say. Percy said a lot of unimportant things, but his fears about the door were not unsound. Of course, he was hypocritical. Falling asleep outside his door from exhaustion, door cracked wide open. Audrey could've stolen his underpants—the comfortable ones that was.
"Why am I buried in this catastrophe?" Percy was eerily calm. "Why is this house left in chaos and disarray?"
"A few things had changed, dear Percival," Bill replied in an icy tone, and Percy didn't even say anything wrong. He didn't call Bill out on being a bastard to his wife. Or a bastard in general. This could've gotten a lot worse considering. "Didn't you notice? Busy frolicking about in the fields for a week, kissing up someone else's arse?"
Percy stared at Bill with a cold, fixed expression. "I did notice a few changes, yes. Besides our house entering an annual swamp contest, it seems that you've become an even bigger git than I am." He cocked his head to one side, and allowed himself to have his smug face on for a second. "I dare you to talk to Fleur like that in front of her father."
Bill snorted again. Really. A pig didn't snort half a much—
Percy was caught off guard when Bill pushed him into the pile of old, broken elastic bands, empty water bottles, and half-eaten boxes of Pixie Puffs and Cheeri-Owls.
Percy sat up, aching already. He forgot how nice it was to live in the Burrow.
"I doubt it'll be as bad as you talking to mum or dad after all the rubbish you pulled. Including a one-week holiday off to Merlin knew where after Fred just died." There was a flash of pain in Bill's eyes that made even Percy feel sorry for him. Percy felt a crushing pain envelope him. Guilt. "This 'catastrophe' that you're buried in? It's because George had a colossal breakdown and kept on throwing defective joke shop products all around the house for DAYS after the war."
Percy didn't want to imagine how George must be like right now.
"You think this is bad? Just wait until you see the kitchen. Or mum and dad's room. Even the bloody shed isn't safe. And you think I have an attitude problem? Wait until you see George. Or Merlin forbid – Ginny or Ron," the room seemed to drop down a few degrees every time Bill said something. Percy couldn't stop shivering. "Get a look at those two and you'll actually start believing that HELIOPATHS EXIST! And mum? She's completely closed herself in. All she does is eat pasties, sleep and cry. Dad's not been to work and neither has Charlie. They're too busy feeling sorry for themselves and using psychoactive substances to numb themselves out. I've never seen so much potion abuse in my life—so, why don't you go tell them off for how illegal and unlawful it is and LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Percy could barely digest any of that. Bill might as well have been spitting out nonsense about a dream he had last night involving peanut butter Kneazles and singing clouds. He looked down at his feet. He felt his heart break into a million little pieces as his head got around to the words. A lump formed into his throat.
"You're awfully quiet for a git that never shuts up," Bill suddenly said. "You're really got nothing to say?"
Percy had never felt such crippling guilt in his whole life. "No."
Bill looked satisfied with that answer. "Honestly? Get out as quick as possible. You don't belong here anymore."
"No," Percy said, his voice wobbly. "I can't let anyone live in this filth. I have to disinfect this ostentatious calamity."
"Of course," Bill rolled his eyes. "This filth. The biggest problem that we have is this filth. Well, get around to disinfecting the ostentatious calamity before the sock monster downstairs finally eats our toes off and kills us in our sleep. Come on, Percy. Be a hero. Conquer this filth."
Percy watched Bill walk away. He'd never seen him like that in his life.
Percy spent the whole of the afternoon and evening cleaning everything from top to bottom. Or rather, disinfecting being the appropriate word for it—and he did mean disinfect. He'd been wiping the whole house with strong disinfectants. He cleaned off slimy, purple goo that had erupted all over the sofa using only the most hardcore cleaning tools. He had taken the wallpaper off, scrubbed the walls, and made a mental note to go to Diagon Alley to buy a new plain wallpaper that he knew his mum would like. He took out the various bits of gum stuck to an old love-seat. Six-year-old Ginny was to fault for that one. He'd wiped the loveseat clean until it went from a maroon to the lovely light pink shade that it had been when they'd first bought it. He'd wiped the coffee table until he saw his own reflection looking back at him from how glossy it was. Anything that was broken, defective or crushed was disposed of. He'd put everything that wasn't broken or defective into boxes that he'd labelled and shrunk. Percy gave them a little bit of colour using a few innocuous charms, and then stacked them one over another on an empty shelf. He'd scrubbed the carpet until the ten-year-old chocolate stains came out.
He made sure The Couch of all Disorder and Destruction (that used to be a sunny yellow colour but was now brown) was back to its cheery colour even if his fingers broke in the process. Percy got up to the ceiling and cleaned it until it gleamed and he could smell the sweet, lavender scent of the cleaning lotions and potions he always lugged around with him because he was neurotic about having a clean space to live in. He turned to clean the vases until they were sparkling and gleaming. He rearranged the various knickknacks after he made sure to get rid of what felt like a century's worth of dust in there. Honestly! There was less dust in some people's attics.
By seven in the evening, Percy finally collapsed on the couch, and curled his legs up.
This was only one room in the Burrow and he was already knackered. He didn't even start to look at the demolition that was the stairs, or peered into the kitchen. He knew it was a nightmare because even sat here, he could smell some gone-off curry and mouldy bread. It was never a good sign to smell foul odours from a different bloody room altogether.
Percy got up after what felt like a three second break (but more like fifteen minutes), and then went about polishing the Weasley family clock. He dared not look directly at it. He did not need to have a dire wobble when the house was about to collapse on itself because of negligence.
And it had only been a week!
By nine, Percy had gotten started on the stairs. By midnight, he was at the top of the stairs and ready to pass out from sheer exhaustion. By two in the morning, he decided to go to the kitchen—and then ran outside, past the gnome sanctuary that they managed to have now, and then vomit into the bushes.
Because apparently, that was a sign of dignity now. Vomiting in healthy, vibrant leaves.
He cleaned the leaves up with a few spells. He walked back into the kitchen, and then used various destructive charms to kill off the giant insects. And by giant insects, he meant insects the size of tissue boxes and encyclopaedias. They were eating the tables, and through the cupboards. They'd dirtied the sink, and Percy had never been afraid of spiders, or Acromantulas but this was enough to strike the fear in him.
By five in the morning, there wasn't a single insect in the kitchen, not even an ant. After blasting them, he realised that there was a gaping hole in the wall with more bugs—and worse! Cornish pixies and flobberworms breeding between the walls! And then called an exterminator at around seven and a half.
He could not do anything that day in the house until the exterminators were done. They could work around with people in the house, silently even, but Percy did not think he could muster up the courage to go and clean anymore of the house knowing those little vermins had infested his childhood home.
Instead, Percy spent the whole day de-gnoming the garden on his own. Wonderful task in the boiling weather all alone with nobody to help you in the slightest way possible. Percy could've passed out from exhaustion.
The fact that he hadn't had slept in ages, or had anything since Audrey's mango, banana and yoghurt smoothie might also be a factor in the fact that he almost ended up unconscious.
His remedy for nearly passing out was to drink water. It didn't seem to help much but he hadn't passed out yet.
He popped down to Gringott's and took out his money. He went to buy a new wallpaper for his living room and new ones for the kitchen and the hallways. They were his mum's favourite colours. Dark, plain colours. Navy blues, forest greens, golden yellows, violet purples and chocolate browns—and whilst the exterminators went about their business, Percy covered the living room with a new navy blue wallpaper to replace the distressed one that they'd previously had.
The following day, Percy had spent most of his money because exterminators were expensive. Percy didn't regret it. He'd repaired the hole in the kitchen with a few extra charms and tools from the (overflown) shed (Percy had to have that cleaned as well—and why was his father asleep at one in the afternoon in that blasted shed on the ground with Charlie? It smelled like strong liquor and half-off dreamless sleep potions.)
Percy made sure the kitchen was sterile as possible. He'd thrown out all the mouldy breads, the gone off curries, the takeaway pizza boxes, the abundances of ice-creams with freezer burns, and his mother's obviously cloudy looking health shakes. Takeaways! His family never ate takeaways when they were in the house all together!
With the living room and kitchen cleaned, Percy ventured to the bigger part of the house—upstairs.
The minute he'd walked upstairs, he leaned against the wall and placed a hand on his chest. His heart was beating very quickly. Percy, who was used to overworking himself, had never done this much work in such a short amount of time before. His head was spinning. He sunk to his arse, and buried his head into his lap.
All better now, right? Get up, Percy tried to tell himself. So he did get up. Awful mistake. He walked down a little down the hallway, his thighs shaking and barely made it to his room.
His room was clean. A quick peer into everyone else's room—very quietly, and he noticed everyone was asleep but the rooms were clean and nothing had changed except that they'd managed to hoard enough food in their rooms to survive the apocalypse. Percy disappeared back into his room and slept moderately. You know, only twenty-four hours of pure sleep. When Percy woke up, his heart was beating quickly and his skin was clammy. He remedied this by opening his door and scarfing down a big packet of nuts, dark chocolate and raisins with water. He went back to sleep and when he woke up, he no longer saw stars. That was an eventful forty-eight hours now, wasn't it?
Percy took a shower. He wore his old clothes. The striped button-down that he was wearing used to be form-fitting. Now, it was unusually baggy. Percy's old, grey trousers used to be tight, like he was about to pop out of them, but now he had to spello-tape them to his hips because he couldn't find a blasted belt.
The first room he visited since doing nothing but sleep for forty-eight hours was George's.
He braced for a real horror show, but instead, was faced with the most pitiful image he'd ever thought to come across. George was sat on his bed, with a Quaffle sat between his legs, and his head buried into the blasted thing. His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn't had enough sleep and he immediately seemed to wake up when he saw Percy. A look of absolute rage fille George's eyes, and the Quaffle was thrown towards him. Percy found himself flat on the ground. There were those blasted sparkly stars forming in front of his eyes. His glasses on the ground, fortunately not shattered to bits. Ugly they were, but sturdier than most brooms. Percy turned to sit up but was pushed down by a George that looked like he was out for blood.
Percy opened his mouth to speak, but was surprised when George violently slammed his fist into his face.
"YOU WERE THERE! WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE HIM? YOU WERE RIGHT NEXT TO HIM! YOU WERE CLOSER! YOU WERE CLOSER!" George called out, and honestly, even when punching the mickey out of him, he looked like a ghost. Like someone that wasn't really there. "YOU COULD'VE SAVED HIM BUT YOU WANTED HIM TO DIE! DIDN'T YOU? YOU WANTED HIM TO DIE!"
George collapsed, tears running down his face. He sobbed. He looked like a shell of a shell of a shell of himself.
Percy opened his mouth to speak but he didn't know what to say. What could he say? He tore George into pieces. He killed Fred. He broke his family, his childhood home. He could clean it all he wanted to, but it was still rotting on the inside.
"Why couldn't you have killed me instead? Why couldn't you have killed ME?" George said.
Hearing George say that was more gut-wrenching than anything else Percy had ever had to hear in his life. To hear his baby brother ask Percy why he couldn't have killed him instead? There was nothing even Percy could say to that.
"OH MERLIN! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIS FACE? ARE YOU SERIOUSLY BLAMING HIM?" Ginny's voice sounded out behind Percy. "We were ALL there, George! We KNOW what happened. And unless Percy was a seer, he couldn't have known either!"
"You're with him," George decided, shaking his head in disbelief. "YOU wanted Fred dead too! I know it now!"
"Nobody wanted Fred dead!" Ginny said, and her voice was cracking the minute he said Fred's name. "George, look at yourself. You aren't like this. You're worse than Bill! And Bill's a complete and utter—"
When Percy saw George lunge towards Ginny, he stood in the middle of them. Percy got knocked down the minute that George attacked him—which apparently surprised his little brother, because George tripped. Percy watched, numb, as George was sent sailing down the stairs. Bill was just walking up there, holding a gigantic shopping bag. Bill dropped his things, breaking glass, as he tried to catch George as he tumbled down but missed. Bill's angry face melted into a look of sheer horror as he looked down to see George on the bottom of the stairs, bleeding profusely.
Bill stared at Percy with a murderous rage like never before.
"Ginny, take George to the hospital," and Percy knew that the minute that Ginny was out of the picture, he'd end up with a more debilitating injury than a bleeding nose and a sore tooth.
Ginny wrapped her arms around Percy, tightly, and shook her head. "No," she tightened her arms around him even more, and Percy responded by stiffening. "You'll kill him, Bill. I won't go—I won't go."
"GINNY, take GEORGE to the HOSPITAL!" Bill repeated.
Ginny sobbed into Percy's arm, and he rubbed her back, edging her forward. She finally disappeared downstairs to wrap her arms around George. Percy had just noticed how small he looked like, wrapped around that giant purple t-shirt, and those gaudy sweatpants. Percy didn't notice that he was walking backwards until then.
Percy caught the image of Ginny disapparating with George in her little arms. They weren't all that little. Ginny could carry Percy any day for Merlin's sake, but it was just how they looked like right then. Small, broken and innocent.
He sunk back against the wall. Percy closed his eyes because he was scared about what Bill might do to him.
Percy was surprised when a few moments passed by and nothing seemed to happen. He let himself relax and opened his eyes. That was when Bill decided to make his move. He grabbed Percy and thrashed him over and over against the wall until he felt something wet at the back of his head.
Percy was starting to feel delirious. And not very well.
By the time Bill went away, Percy managed to bandage himself up, and then clean the soiled walls. It was the most depressing thing that he'd ever done. Clean his own blood off the walls.
That evening, Percy didn't think he could stay in the house. He didn't have it in him to the hospital to talk at George and get his arm or his pelvis broken. He didn't want to know what version of the tale that Bill or George was going around telling everyone. He felt bad, because he didn't want to leave Ginny alone in the house either.
Percy left the house for the first time in ages, and it felt good to be outside. His cheekbone hurt, his tooth was sore, but at least his nose and head stopped bleeding.
He wasn't sure what time it was but he walked down and sat by a bench. He watched people walk around—sunny-haired women, tired men with old wizarding robes still caked with blood, small children running around and laughing, sad women with sunken cheeks, happy teenage boys laughing and having a good night out as they talked about girls. Some people were very happy, and some of them were very sad. Percy watched shops close and workers walk say their goodbyes so they could go home to their loved ones. Percy just sat there with his wrecked body, inhaled the smell of buttery popcorn and large salted pretzels, all of them with outrageous names linked to Harry. Percy thought it was a little bit funny. A Potter Pretzels and Popcorn. Pretzels shaped like lightning bolts, and popcorn drizzled with copious amounts of caramel syrup made to gleam in the darkness.
They had Potter Pretzels and Popcorn after the first war too. The smell left him in deep melancholy.
Percy remembered being six-years-old and taken out to Diagon Alley for what felt like the first time ever in his life after his first birthday not in locked in a dark and dreary place. His mother was too busy fussing over Ron, Ginny, Fred and George to pay even the smallest attention to him. He did not wander off and stuck very close to his mother, but Percy could remember the guilt he felt for just wanting to hold onto her dress robes and bury his head into them because he had never seen so many people in one place before.
Six-year-old Percy trusted that his mother would not take him anywhere scary, so he just stayed close to her. He had never been in shops before, and did not know how they worked. He had taken a lollipop at a store, and then ran out when he heard his mother calling for him. He unwrapped the lolly with zeal, noticing its bright green colour.
When she saw it, his mother shouted at him for it. Percy could still remember her yelling at him, stressed with taking care of four little babies that only gave her trouble. She had to lash out on the only one that was there, that could understand what she said. "DO YOU REMEMBER TELLING YOU THAT YOU COULD TAKE THAT, PERCIVAL? DID I GIVE YOU ANY PERMISSION TO HAVE ANYTHING? DID I? I DIDN'T PAY FOR THAT! YOU ARE NOT HAVING A PUDDING THIS WEEK—I WON'T LET YOU HAVE A SINGLE BISCUIT FOR AS LONG AS I LIVE!"
Percy had to throw it away, but before then, he'd had a few licks. His eyes watered. It was an acid pop, and when he complained of his tongue hurting, she only yelled back a "GOOD!" at him.
When he came back home, his mother's sweet, docile tones greeted when she noticed he'd burned a hole in his tongue after Percy refused to eat any of his dinner. He didn't understand then, and he didn't understand now, how even when he did the smallest, most insignificant thing wrong, he always got shouted at. When he was thirteen, his father had a go at him just because Percy had eaten a pot of yoghurt in the fridge because it had been a bad day so it was justifiable to wreck Percy's bloody day for no reason. He had been so happy that day. He could remember because the minute that Arthur started shouting at him, Percy wanted to go upstairs and cry. These small things were insignificant, but he hated himself most of his life. He hated himself because of his perfectionism (where did that come from? Percy never knew. Being never praised until he killed himself studying and getting good grades had something to do with it. And the only person that ever praised him was his mother!). He was never good enough. Every small little thing that happened in his life made him the way he was—like Bill not giving him a single quill when Percy asked for it (he didn't use them!) but giving his old, beloved broomstick to George when he asked for it—it used to get on his nerves. Percy wasn't allowed to make mistakes, or to want things. Or to expect to be given things.
It killed him on the inside, knowing that they were treating him like they didn't want him there. Percy was simply someone else's sheer obligation—a fool, a pawn, someone to blame.
And Percy blamed himself. He blamed himself for being so stupid. He blamed himself for Fred.
Most days, Percy wanted to write a whole book about how every small insignificant detail had led him to crying for days over a less-than-perfect grade and about how he wished that someone didn't notice that he hadn't had any pudding three days in a row because Ron always took his. He wanted to write about how he'd come to loathe himself so much. How he only gloated about his accomplishments because he wanted someone to notice them. How he had wanted to kill himself because of them. How violent and how gruesome he wanted to make his suicide. How he wanted to bury face until acid until it melted away all his sins. How he wanted to stick that broom up in his arm so far into his mouth he choked and died on it. How he wanted to literally work himself to death.
Percy could write the things he wanted to do to himself, but he'd run out of quills and he couldn't afford them.
And he couldn't ask Bill for one because he'd rather kill himself than give Percy a quill. But he'd give George a big old broom no problem. He'd give Ginny his favourite dragonhide jackets. Percy could imagine all the people from Hogwarts, talking about how brave Ron was. How they'd wished it was Percy instead of Fred, that bastard...
The only reason that Percy could come up with for why he shouldn't kill himself in a year's time when his family got better was because he didn't want Hermes suffering. What if nobody knew what his favourite owl snacks were?
He was broken out of his trance when a crup approached him. Percy gave it a few pats on the head, and received a few appreciative licks. He did not know why but animals particularly liked him. Maybe because he was an animal himself.
Percy was never really one for shopping, but he couldn't resist to look inside the stores after he was done lamenting (was he ever really done?). Most of the things he saw hadn't really change. Except when Percy looked too closely and he realised that Fortescue's was no longer run by Florean, the smell of death was in the air, and there was a thickness in the atmosphere that made everything feel fake. Like it wasn't supposed to be like this.
He spent the whole evening in the Knight Bus again, with the little money that he had left over to go back to his flat. He wished that Audrey lived nearer, because he wanted to see someone today.
Percy walked up to her flat, and then knocked on her door.
A bloke answered. He had a scruffy look to him, and didn't look to be very pleased at seeing Percy there, stood there in his clothes. He probably reeked.
"Audrey doesn't want to bloody see you. Don't come back again," he said, and then slammed the door in Percy's face.
Percy didn't understand what he'd done wrong, but it seemed to be a common theme today—or really, for the majority of his life in all honesty. He walked inside his flat, and stared inside the plain walls. In his plain room. In his plain existence with the little plain things adorning it. He picked up a book and started to write out his will.
Unfortunately, Percy realised that in all honesty, he… had nothing.