Disclaimer: The Harry Potter world and all Harry Potter characters are not mine. I do not make any money from this.

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 9, for the Chudley Cannons, Chaser 1.

Prompt(s): Quaffle - Write about a witch or wizard being torn between two different people or groups.

Additional Prompt(s): (word) defeated, (image) chess set, (colour) lime green

. . .

Regret (Tug of War)

. . .

Percy felt completely and utterly defeated. It was becoming a cycle, an unending game he wasn't willing to let end. He had always aimed to be higher, to be looked upon with prestige and respect. But his heart pulled him back, pulled him home. It was a tug of war that was wearing him out. So Percy suppressed it.

He claimed defeat at least several times a day. Moments where his shoulders slumped and he was ready to quit, to go home. But he remembered his goals, the future he had desperately wished for, and he squared himself. He carried on.

There were days where Percy came across the Weasley patriarch but he couldn't muster up the courage to tell his father that he was sorry, that he was wrong. Every fiber of Percy's being refused to be wrong. It was against his nature and he was loathed to admit it to his father who always acknowledged him platonically, like he wasn't his son. Percy would nod and then go on his way like a part of him wasn't clawing to go back and beg his father for forgiveness. Percy resumed his work, as usual.

Every move and tug reminded him of chess. The Ministry made one move and then the Order made another. Each move and casualty was a reminder of his mistakes, like he was a Chess clock just waiting on each side to end their move. They were all pawns and most of them didn't even know it.

. . .

When Percy would start to lose sight of his path he would remember the first time he saw Cornelius Fudge. He wore these polished lime green robes that demanded attention and an air of power that seemed to reach everyone around him. Percy wanted to be like that, to be looked upon like he looked at each respected member of the Ministry. He didn't want to be his father, looked down on and endlessly insulted. Percy wanted to be more.

He shook himself from his thoughts and continued on the report he was working on. Things were tense in the Ministry; it could be felt in every corner. Scrimegeor was adamant about the security of the Wizarding World. He even went so far as to "interrogate" Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and his brother, Ron Weasley. Percy didn't feel too comfortable with that fact but his mind kept telling him that it was for the best, for everybody.

"Hey, Weesleby, you got that report?" An older advisor that Scrimegeor often consulted asked him. Percy scrambled to get the finished report out of his typewriter. He nearly knocked over a full bottle of ink just trying to hand the report over to the older official. He looked a bit annoyed at Percy but took the report nonetheless and left. Percy sighed and gathered his things. His shift was almost over and he ought to be heading back to his apartment.

He didn't like to call it home. The word tasted bitter on his tongue and whenever he even thought of the word home, he thought of the Burrow. His mother and her wondrous cooking, his siblings and their annoying yet calming chatter, his father's childlike curiosity. So Percy thought of the place he owned as nothing but "the apartment".

The Ministry seemed to be in the workings of an uproar when Percy was leaving. People were rushing through the halls and the interdepartmental memos were in larger numbers than usual. Percy wasn't stopped on his way to the floos though. So he assumed that it wasn't anything dangerous to worry about. Percy went back to the apartment and got ready for bed after a quick dinner. This was his life now, his own cycle.

. . .

When Percy arrived to work the next day, he couldn't have been more wrong the night before. The Minister of Magic was dead and the game of chess was in check. Percy did what was asked of him and he resumed work as normal but the tug of war in his being was dangerously close to ending. He knew everything was wrong. He knew that he should leave and check on his family but he couldn't. Something in him wouldn't let himself. He knew that the Minister's death was due to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Death Eaters. He was being torn apart and he didn't know what to do. He worked through the day and did as he was told, all the while trying to think of how he could possibly get out.

Percy went back to his apartment, and thought of everything he had done wrong. And how desperately he hoped his family was safe. He hardly got any sleep before his cycle started again.

. . .

Percy spent weeks struggling with himself. He tried to be a good boy and just do what he was told but it was getting harder to pretend, to convince himself that that was what he wanted. He found himself one evening in Hogsmeade, dark circles under his eyes and watching Hogwarts like it was his lifeline. Was Ginny in there? Ron? Percy was desperate for any scrap of evidence that his family was okay.

He didn't know how long he was there just watching the silhouette of Hogwarts fade with the moonlight. He dragged himself down the road. Madame Rosmerta's was closed but Percy traveled further down and saw that the Hog's Head was still lit. He almost stumbled inside but managed to grab his footing. The run down place was sparsely occupied. He sat at the counter and ordered a Firewhisky. The barkeep eyed him as if trying to discern something but Percy didn't notice.

"Are you a Weasley?" The man asked. Percy sighed and took a big gulp of the Firewhisky placed in front of him. He looked at the man.

"Why?" He asked. The man looked a little disgruntled at his tone but answered him anyways.

"I know your family. I know the Order but I've never seen you before. And yet, every physical feature of you screams Weasley." Percy drank more of his drink and looked around as if saying he was a Weasley was somehow incriminating.

"Yeah, I'm Percy Weasley," he let out. It felt like a sigh of relief. Somehow acknowledging that he was, in fact, a Weasley was life-affirming. It's like he had kept everything in and saying his own name out loud was the key that let it all out. "Is…Is my family okay?" The man stared at him long and hard.

"Yes, they're fine. Fine as anyone can be these days at least." The man refilled his drink. Percy sighed and hung his head in relief. Every what if and possible scenario he had been swirling in his head for weeks was suddenly gone. His family was safe.

"Thank you. It was killing me not to know." The man eyed Percy.

"Why aren't you with them?" he asked. Percy squared his shoulders and tried not to get defensive.

"I…I made a mistake," he replied. The man seemed satisfied with his answer though and Percy was grateful.

"Do you regret this mistake?" Percy nodded stiffly.

"More than anything."

"Maybe I can help you."

. . .

A/N: Yep. I really didn't know what to write this round and this is what came out. So…yeah.