Thank you loads gngrlvr1!
Oh my gosh, I think I just killed myself writing this chapter. Never looking at a computer screen again. My eyes.
I'd just like to give a lot of this chapter's credit to Noelle. I get so many inspirations from her in general, when it comes to my writing, but she helped a great deal with this chapter.
Please read and review. :)
Chapter Twenty-One.
It hurt.
It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.
Percy was sitting on the carpet in the motel room, looking at the different piles of money he had set before him. There was one large pile – what he would owe Latinus when he came through with all of the papers. He wasn't stupid, he'd never give him this money until it was all settled. Then he had had to divide the small amount of the rest into his other needs.
A second much smaller pile was for the suits he had ordered – they really were a necessity, he kept on trying to tell himself as if he were trying to justify that purchase. If I don't have suits I won't be able to sit for interviews or have clothes for work. And it's all about how one innately feels about themselves anyway. If one just wears jeans and a shirt, then how are they going to ever aspire to be anything? It's simple logic. Really. Truly. The suits were needed. They were…An investment of sorts. Yes. An investment.
The third pile was for the payment of the motel room, and the fourth was what he had left, for food and other things. It wasn't a very big pile and he sighed. It pained him not to have much in his savings, it actually made him inwardly wince. He had always prided himself on having enough for a rainy day or even for something superficial as in to ensure he could purchase really decent birthday and Christmas presents for his family. It looked as if he would have no choice but to take up on Michelle's offer to live with her – he didn't have much at all to spend on rent on a flat by himself. Not that it bothered him at all, she was friendly and fun, but he would have to deal with her untidiness. No matter what she said about making more of an effort, he had lived all of his life with messy siblings, and then at Hogwarts had endured seven years of roommates who had never taken as much pride in their shared room as he would have liked, no matter how he had encouraged them to the contrary. Percy sniffed at that. And then there'd been Penny when they had lived together…But never mind, it wouldn't be all doom and gloom, he would be more than happy to help Michelle out till she got the hang of keeping things tidy. He was good at that sort of thing.
But his positive smile slipped as he looked again at his leftover money. He opened his trunk and slipped the separate piles into separate pockets, then left out a ten pound note out for dinner that night.
He really needed a job…
He remembered Dean had said he could help him find one. He had said it confidently, so perhaps he had had something in mind?
He moved over to the table where he had left Dean's phone number, and taking it over to where the telephone was, he sat on the chair, fidgeting with Penny's ribbon as he cradled the receiver between his ear and shoulder, and dialled the number.
The ringing tone purred in his ear, and he inwardly felt a kick of joy that he had managed it correctly.
The phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
"Told you, I'm not answering again Jamie, stop calling!" what seemed like a young girl answered, laughing in delight.
"…Hello?" Percy asked uncertainly. Had he called the wrong number after all?
"Oh!" the young girl sounded embarrassed, "Sorry, I thought you were my friend calling back –" Percy heard in the background a woman reprimanding the girl on how to answer the phone properly, "-Yeah, I know Mum," the girl protested, "I thought it was Jamie calling back again!"
"Hello…?" Percy repeated, now even more uncertain.
"Hi!" was the reply, "Who's this?"
"I'm Percy Weasley –" Percy swore at himself inwardly, he had forgotten for a moment to use his new name, "– I was wondering if I could please speak to Dean Thomas?"
There was a silence and Percy was about to repeat himself when the girl quickly yelled out, making Percy wince at the shout in his ear, "Daaaaaaaaad!"
Soon there was another voice, an older and deeper one, "Yes? Hello? Can I help you?"
"Hello," Percy said again, "Is Dean there, please? Have I…Have I got the wrong number?"
"Dean?" the man said vaguely, "Look, who is this? My daughter said some Weasley fellow, are you Ronald?"
"No –" Percy paused for a bit, but then thought to Hell with it, "I'm his brother, Percy. An acquaintance of Dean, he told me to call –"
"Look," Percy was interrupted by this man, "This is Dean's Step-Dad. He's not here right now, alright?"
He heard the woman in the background asking quiet questions but could imagine the man gesturing her to be quiet as Percy said, "Oh, but this is Dean's number then? I'll – I'll call back at a later time –"
"No," the man said quite emphatically, "Concerning you lot…Dean doesn't live here, alright? Don't call back here ever again."
"But –" Percy began, confused.
He could hear something odd going on down the end of the line; then he heard the woman's voice, "I just got my son back. Please! Just leave us alone and don't call back!"
There was a click and Percy sat there puzzled.
"Hello?" he shook the phone, "Hello?"
He put the receiver back on the cradle, then picked it up and called again.
The phone rang; then it was picked up.
"I'm incredibly sorry," Percy began, "I'm not very good with these telephones, I think the line cut off –"
"Leave us alone!" the woman's voice was shrill and panicked, and this time Percy could not ignore that the sound of the click and the end of the conversation had indeed been deliberate.
He sat there as a feeling of cold helplessness rose up within him. He had not realised it due to the fact he did not want to see anybody, but that lifeline with Dean had in fact given him a little hope. And now that hope had been severed. He couldn't blame the family, not one bit. He would have done the same.
What the hell was he going to do?
He stood up and paced around a bit to calm himself. How the hell was he going to do this? How the hell was he realistically going to do this? He couldn't even work one of those bloody electric blender thingies!
Maybe he should go back. Maybe he could go back. Who was he kidding? He had screwed up working for Barty Crouch (Ha! The name he had called him, Weatherby, had stuck and haunted him through the mockery of other colleagues, for the rest of his short-lived career), he had made an abominable mess with Fudge – he had proven time and time again he could not work independently. Who was he to ever think that he could even masquerade as a Muggle?
But he couldn't go back either…
He had run off for close to three years once before and been forgiven…But running off again so soon after being forgiven and missing Fred's funeral...Bill had always frightened him when he had been angry. He was one of the best, fairest and most loyal people one could ever meet and wouldn't hold a grudge, but when he got particularly angry…And his Mother – how could he face his Mother again? Or his Dad? Or anybody?
No. The thought was ridiculous. He would live on the streets of Muggle London if he had to rather than going back and facing all that hurt.
Pull yourself together, Percy. It was nearly 5:30.
He went into the bathroom, and looked at himself. He was wearing the slate grey waistcoat which had been the first item of clothing he had picked up at the shop, over a crisp white business shirt and grey trousers. He had really wanted to wear a tie, but perhaps that was too much? He liked the idea of a bowler hat…Perhaps he should look into hats. From the counter he picked up his golden fob watch that he had been given as his coming-of-age gift from his parents and attached it to his waistcoat. There, he was done. He went back out, pocketed the ten pound note and Penny's ribbon as usual and made his way downstairs to the foyer.
He waited outside and saw Michelle as she was walking towards him. He had to grin at what she was wearing. A hooded patchwork coat of mauves and pinks lined with silver nearly brushed the footpath as she approached him. It reminded him of the gypsy carnivale that had come to Hogwarts when he had been in first year and how the foreign witches and wizards had performed so many amazing feats in the Quidditch pitch.
"Hi," she said smiling at him, "I was thinking if we walked a few blocks, there's the main touristy bit. I thought you might like to see the Thames and all that shebang as we find somewhere to eat."
"Oh, that'd be marvellous," he replied and they began to walk together. He had forgotten that he could consider himself a tourist, and his curiosity at seeing a new side of London almost washed away his uncertainty from before. Almost.
She gazed at him as they were walking, and said with her own curiosity, "Would you mind if I took a look at your watch?"
Percy looked down, "Oh!" he carefully took from his waistcoat the watch and handed it to her.
She moved it about in her hands, "Well, I'll be damned…I love these – there's an antique shop near my flat and I love looking at all the things inside. This is very Oscar Wilde, all you need is the cane."
Ohh! Percy thought to himself excitedly. Yes, a bowler hat and a cane…Though not like Lucius Malfoy's – his snake had always been too over-the-top…Typical Malfoy…
Michelle was gently opening the watch and her eyes nearly popped in amazement at the inside. Inside was a delicate little clock face. Instead of numbers, there were some sort of symbols – not Roman Numerals, but something like hieroglyphics. And beside the symbols, what looked like stars twinkled prettily.
"What are these?" she answered in awe.
"They're called ancient runes. They're the numbers, like an ordinary clock. I was given the watch for my coming of age," he answered.
She closed it delicately and passed it back to him as gently as if it were a robin's egg.
"That's very Jules Verne," she breathed.
"…Yeah," Percy had no idea who she was talking about.
"Were you…Were you raised by old people? I mean, when not at school?" she asked inquisitively.
"Why would you say that?" Percy asked.
"Just…Your style," was all she could say.
Percy chewed his lip trying to think of how best to answer this and pulled from his mind the first name he could think of, "I was raised by a man called Rubeus Hagrid when not at school."
"I see…" they continued on in silence, till she asked, "What was he like?"
"Who?" Percy asked absentmindedly as he connected his fob watch to his waistcoat once more.
"Mr. Hagrid!"
"Oh…" Percy wanted to sigh – how would he remember all these lies? "He was very nice…Very large. You felt like you could see for miles on his shoulder."
Percy thought of Hagrid when he had been in first year and he had been Hogwart's gamekeeper…
He was bawling, his body trembling in fear at the sickening height. Tears rolled down his face unashamedly as he called out for help, on the grounds of Hogwarts stuck in a tree. It had been those bullies again. They had levitated him up there and he couldn't get down and nobody could hear him! Hagrid had been the one to pluck him out as if he were nothing but a bird…
"Now how'd you get up there?" he heard a kindly voice after what had seemed like forever. Percy braced himself to look down from the tree and saw the large man, almost as big as a giant, looking up at him, "You're much to small to be climbing trees that tall. Molly would be in a right panic if she saw you like this."
Percy sniffled, "You…Know my Mum?"
"Course I do, little Weasley," Hagrid answered, "Your mother's curls with your father's hair. Now hang tight..." Percy's saviour grabbed a thick branch and pulled so the branch Percy was on came down. It reached down to Hagrid and he grabbed him easily by the robes with one hand and lifted him up, placing him on his shoulder, "Now don't you be crying. You're a young man now. How's about I take you to my hut for some rock cake and pumpkin juice?"
"I'm late for class..." Percy answered uncertainly.
"With who?"
"Professor McGonagall..." and to be truthful, Percy just wanted to get down. He swallowed uneasily – he might be down from the tree, but he still felt high on Hagrid's shoulder, and didn't feel very secure.
"Don't you worry about her, I'll explain it later. Give you some time to clean your face up and make yourself presentable again," Hagrid said gently.
Well... he really didn't want anyone seeing him with a red, tear streaked face... "...A-All right...Thank you, Sir."
By this time Michelle and he had walked out on to a busy street. Vendors were everywhere, shouting the sale of their wares – from cheap London souvenirs to bus tours to clothing. A few people tried to grab Percy's attention and throw some pamphlets at him, but he felt Michelle firmly take hold of his hand and he followed her as she confidently made their way through the melee of people.
Something did catch his eye however and she turned when she felt him stop. There was a food vendor on the corner of the street – what looked like a pink cart, with a machine inside of it. But it was what the vendor was doing that caught his attention. A couple were waiting as the vendor seemed to have controlled a giant puffy swirl of pink which he placed in a paper cone.
"Do you want some fairy floss?" Michelle asked him.
"Fairy floss?" Percy turned to her fascinated, "But I thought you all didn't…Made by fairies?"
She pulled a face as if he had made a joke, and they walked over to the vendor, waiting their turn as Percy investigated, looking closer at the creation. It was literally wisps of pink cloud – or a mass of delicate spider webs…
"Here, my shout," Michelle said as the other couple moved away with their purchase.
"Your shout –" he said confused, but understood as she took her purse out, "Oh no, no, no – I'll –"
"Don't be silly," Michelle said and to the vendor asked for two cones.
He would make it up later, he thought, but right now he was too excited over the process. He watched in child-like delight as the vendor set their cones and handed it to them. He thanked the vendor and they wandered off, to a bench and sat down, where Percy watched intrigued as Michelle took a little with her fingers and put it in her mouth.
"What's it like?" he asked her.
"Are you really telling me you've never had it before? Rots your teeth, but it's lovely," she answered.
He looked at his own and plucked a bit off, smelling it. It smelt very sweet. He poked out his tongue and placed it on there. It was exactly like spun sugar and seemed to melt on his tongue. He then closed his mouth and had to wince as the stuff stuck to his teeth. Just like bleeding real fairies, he thought. As mischievous as them anyway. You thought they were pretty and sweet, then they attacked. He flicked his teeth with his tongue, and continued to eat. Eating almost raw sugar was actually addictive in a way…
"So, are you really hungry Percy? I know it's early. I just have to be at work by eight," Michelle said.
"Not too hungry, to be honest. I could snack just now. What do you want to do?" he asked.
"Well, I was thinking maybe we could go to that delicatessen over there and grab some croissants or something, and some sweets for dessert and sit by the Thames. It's always so nice," she suggested.
"That sounds perfect," he said.
They both stood and walked into the delicatessen after they had eaten as much of the fairy floss as they could. Percy looked gingerly at his sticky hands. As a younger man, his siblings and parents had called him "Cat" at his obsession with remaining clean, as a kitten would do, washing its paws compulsively. But how could one abide sticky hands?
Michelle wandered over to the sandwich cabinet while the aisle of sweets caught Percy's eye. He walked over to it, staring at the boxes of Muggle sweets. He had had some of course, growing up, when the family had had to pass through London for some reason, but he had never looked at them all presented in such a quantity…
There were chocolate buttons and something called Terry's Chocolate Orange and Aero Bars, a bar of Galaxy chocolate, chocolate buttons, Rolos…All packaged prettily…Of course this shop was just a cheap little place and nothing really beautiful like Honeydukes, but still…
"I thought you were from Devon," Michelle asked from beside him.
"Pardon?" he asked.
"You're just looking at those sweets in the same way you were looking at the fairy floss, as if you've never had them. Do you have different sweets there or something?"
"Oh, I'm from outside of Devon," he answered.
"And you've never seen these sweets?" she turned to face them.
"Well – I didn't eat a lot…I was at boarding school mostly," he answered.
"Oh what a deprived childhood!" she said with a smile, "The Rolo's are the best."
"May be deprived," Percy answered wryly, "But I still have all my teeth."
"So do I," Michelle retorted, "They never did anything bad to me."
Percy turned to Michelle and her restless choice of obscene colours. Maybe the sugar explains the over the top aspect of her…"Might explain your hyperactivity with your clothing choices –" he suddenly looked horrified – did he just say that out loud?
Amusement broke over Michelle's features and her eyes flicked over him, up and down, over his conservative clothing, "Might explain yours as well," then she turned and flounced back over to the sandwich counter.
Percy laughed before he realised he wasn't just laughing, but really laughing, if that made sense, and the answer to his fears before became perfectly clear now. He would take up Michelle's offer of her spare room, mess and all. He felt incredibly hollow living by himself with only the memories of his previous life and mistakes to keep him company. This girl made him laugh. This girl made him forget – and no matter how temporary it would be, that was something at least.
He turned back to the sweets and took down a small tube of the Rolo's to give to her later in the evening and moved over to where she was, examining the croissants, "Michelle – I think I'm going to move in to your spare room, if that's okay."