a Bill centric chapter. the next chapter is a Percy centric one and it involves Percy recalling what happens in the night when Bill drops by (at the end of the chapter) where Bill mentions that he's spent the night with Percy. i know i updated super soon since my last update! i actually bothered to edit this chapter.
comment replies:
finkles89: thank you! i'm so glad you enjoyed the Charlie-centric chapter. it was hard to write the Percy/Charlie parts weirdly enough. :)
Grin like the Cheshire Cat: i'm so glad i had a 'cute' chapter... especially after all that angst. ;)
Phoenixx Rising: i love Charlie in this story too. i feel like he doesn't fall into the traps of the other brothers in this fanfiction, so it keeps him relatively level-headed. yikes, his thoughts are super dark. even writing him i felt like 'Charlie! you need help for this!'.
SkyeMoor: in tears? at work? not a very good combination! oops! i hope you read this chapter at home! though i'm not sure if this one is tear-inducing...
i forgot to mention! please vote on my poll, as i have six new Percy ideas in my mind to do :) that from those six ideas, i also want to do an abusive relationship plotline with Percy and Penelope. i feel like they're all either a man abusing a woman, or Percy being abused by another man or pure child / abuse in the home. i thought it'll be interesting if i did a fanfiction about Penelope abusing Percy, without hopefully falling into the cliche traps of an abusive relationship. it's a delicate subject, but everyone i've asked thus far about it told me i should most definitely do it because people don't. i just worry about how it comes off!
Love and Old Black Shoes
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was one of those sweet sunny mornings where the sunlight peered through the smallest crevasses in the house and illuminated their little home with beams of joy. Bill was balancing a quill in one hand, and a tired Victoire in another. He'd been trying to finish this stupid documents Gringott's had been hounding him about for weeks now!
Charlie was sitting opposite to him, chattering on about Percy for the last twenty minutes.
Bill slowly nodded his head as Charlie spoke, interrupting him once because Victoire started crying and needed her nappy changed. Oh, and he had to interrupt him once more to make sure that his crumpets didn't burn. Of course, he then had to smear those crumpets with egregious amount of margarine and jam. But it wasn't like Charlie didn't help himself. He also was making coffee using his new wizarding coffee machine that he'd never used before! But it wasn't like anything could go wrong!
Oh! Bill nearly forgot! There was also a moment where he had to make sure that his owl hadn't been playing with fire—again… but other than that, it was an intense, uninterrupted conversation and Bill heard every single word of it!
"You haven't listened to a word I said, have you?" Charlie asked after he was done making his point.
Bill went red. "Well, I—" he listened to the first part! Sort of! And he knew the conversation was about Percy!
Charlie rolled his eyes, but then… he ate a crumpet! So, he couldn't be all that mad. "Bill, I—!"
"No talking with your mouth full," Bill immediately replied, feeling his cheeks redden even more. Fleur was getting to him. He was becoming father-ified. He was boring, old, bought less noticeable ear-piercings and he was smelling things that weren't there! He swore that he could smell something burning. But… what if it was? Oh, that ruddy owl was probably near the fire again! Bill was going to kill that blasted thing and get it stuffed!
"Bill, I think that—" Charlie was cut off as Bill abruptly stood up when Fleur walked in.
"What is zat smell?!" Fleur said, her veela charm wasn't so potent with that bed hair.
"It's probably Charlie!" Bill pointed towards his little brother, who always smelled like he was burning anyway! Charlie looked offended, but then he looked disgusted when he had a whiff of his armpit. "He only showers in lakes."
"And not every day," Charlie replied. "HEY!" he realised that Bill just insulted him again.
Fleur didn't seem to care if Charlie was combusting, or if he had a deadly infection from the lake. "TAKE… VICTOIRE… OUT!" she waved her arms around dramatically. Bill never realised he'd married his mother until now.
Bill shook his head sternly. "Well, I thought chapter thirty-two of our book said that she is still not accustomed to her home and shouldn't be out frolicking about in parts of London that she wouldn't—"
BOOM!
The coffee that he'd forgotten he'd put into the new magical coffee maker just exploded, sending bits of foam, chocolate powder and chocolate syrup all over the room. Fleur shrieked and started yelling at him in French. After this long, of course, Bill knew a little bit of French. Well, he knew all the swear words—and Merlin, she had a tongue on her for a lady such as herself! Bill bet that the blokes that were lusting over her at the Yule Ball would be shocked!
Though some might be mildly aroused, Bill thought, completely disturbed at the thought.
Charlie, now covered in milk foam, choked on the milk. His freckles dusted by chocolate powder.
"I don't know what you said," he told Fleur, "But I'm glad you said it!" She said an hmmph and walked upstairs.
"Well, I heard that," although Bill wished he could unhear what Fleur just told him. "Does that count?"
Charlie was not amused. "No, it doesn't count! Oi, I thought coming here was going to be a nice, clean break from what George has been experimenting about in the Burrow nowadays! Nearly made me die of frostbite yesterday after he made me try his new Frozen Olaf ice-cream! I'm not sure where the blasted arsehole got that name from, but I still can't feel my toes! But YOU lot are more dangerous than an Antipodean Opaleye that doesn't want to be bothered during her pregnancy!" Charlie told Bill, looking down at his robes—which were soaked in chunks of milk chocolate and dark chocolate sauce. "AND I still bloody hate chocolate! Merlin… I feel so, SO TAINTED!"
Bill felt so tainted accidentally catching fifteen-year-old Charlie shagging off with a seventh-year Hufflepuff that probably looked like an Antipodean Opaleye and all… he'd never seen a woman with scales before!
"OKAY!" Charlie yelled out. "So, what I WANTED TO SAY WAS THAT Percy doesn't want to go to therapy anymore. He wants US to go to therapy instead because he thinks that we will benefit more—well, at least mum would because she's acting like he's already dead which doesn't sound very healthy. Nobody didn't like the idea of it because—well—Percy tried to kill himself by torture so of course he needs therapy since most other people do not try to turn themselves into the consistency of a dulce de leche doughnut—have you tried one of those? There's a shop in Diagon Alley and they're bloody amazing—but… well… I just came to this wonderful conclusion that it's hard for Percy to keep the façade of well… being Percy. And maybe he doesn't want to discard what he's been building for ages just so we don't feel bad about the fact that we totally missed the mark with him!"
Charlie wondered if Bill followed any of that.
Bill just cocked his head to one side. "Where in Diagon Alley can I find those doughnuts?" and Charlie just gave him a look. "What? Believe it or not, your epiphany, Charlie, is not as shocking as you want it to believe!"
"You figured this out on your own?" Charlie seemed surprised, but also suspicious. "YOU BLOODY BASTARD! Why didn't you want to share that with us instead of—"
"Merlin, of course he doesn't want to go to therapy! I thought that was bloody obvious! Last three times he went, he was such a state after! And I was against that bloody thing in the first place—if he wants to let us know about that rubbish, he would, but it's bloody cruel to have him talk about it when he's got TWO MONTHS TO LIVE!" Bill rationalised to Charlie, who was pretending that he wasn't that daft that he couldn't figure that out on his own ages ago. "THE LEAST we can do is let him pick what he wants to do in that bloody time!"
Victoire was crying now. She was not happy anymore. There were no more exploding coffee machines.
"Just be lucky that when I get my new crup breeding job, I'm not going to tell them I've got the perfect little pup at home—comes with his own jewellery in case he ever gets lost!" Charlie was obviously extremely annoyed.
Bill found himself smirking as he pulled Victoire towards Charlie so that she could try and scoop up some of the chocolate seeping off Charlie's face. She sucked on her fingers, content.
Charlie tried to rub off the chocolate powder on his face. If Fred was in Charlie's place, he'd be dead… again.
Is that the best you could do? Fred said in Bill's head. The thought made him smile... Bill hadn't had a thought with Fred that made him smile in ages. Very funny, Bill! Real comedy! Laughed myself to death! I'm positively rolling in my grave!
"They give out crup breeding licences to anyone, do they?" Bill asked, as Charlie continued to try the powder off.
Victoire was excited, bubbly in his arms and very energetic. She was waving her arms out everywhere, making bubbles with her salvia! Maybe being covered in milk foam and Honeyduke's 50% dark chocolate was worth it after all.
It reminded Bill to set aside a little Honeyduke's half-off organic chocolate syrup for Victoire later. She refused to take Fleur's breast. She'd been keeping them awake at night because of how hungry she was but refused all kind of milk preparations. The only way she'd take Fleur's milk was if it was mixed with chocolate. Unfortunately, Honeyduke's original chocolate syrup was full of cheap Potion ingredients to help bulk them up! So, Bill had to shell out what was essentially an arm and a leg just to buy her an organic chocolate syrup bottle! Shipped from bloody Peru!
Bill was feeling a little better. He had to go to therapy himself now and told Fleur to keep Victoire to herself every now and then. He'd been forced to keep a journal regarding how he felt like with the lunar cycle. He felt his worst when the moon was full and heavy. He slept in a separate room, and usually woke up to find out he'd bitten his pillows off in pieces. He was in a constant delirium and his stomach felt full and bloated for days afterwards.
Pillows didn't bode well with his digestion after all!
Taking the Wolfsbane didn't seem to help at all, since he wasn't a real werewolf. He'd been working through a bunch of other potions that were used for blokes with his problem. He sometimes woke up at night with this sudden, debilitating paralysing fear. He sat by, cold and clammy with his heart beating out of his ears. He thought he was going to die, as his chest tightened and the whole world around him seemed like it was a billion miles away. Fleur would tell him to go back to sleep, and Bill would yell at her. He could feel something cold and heavy in his hands when he woke up at night. He remembered that feeling when he'd carried Percy—cold, wet, bony Percy. Bill sometimes spat out his jam when he was in the middle of eating his crumpets, and all he could see was sweet gelatinous blood. He sometimes yelled at Fleur, but he was not sure what about or why. At night, he sometimes heard something being sewn, and he had nightmares of Percy's skull splitting in halves. Crunching beneath his fingers, like a bowl of puffed rice covered in sweet strawberry jam. Bill sometimes saw in his hands when he was washing them with warm water, remembering how it felt like when he'd had Percy's blood pooling into his hands. By the cupful.
After Charlie's visit, Bill though to visit the Burrow that night to have a little chat with Percy.
He'd not actually really talked to Percy since after he'd found him, but he knew he had to! Bill was actively avoiding it, because he couldn't get that thought that the second he would look at Percy, he'd unravel into thin white little threads covering thin porous bones. He kept on wondering if Percy's live, beating heart would suddenly burst out of his chest the second that Bill laid eyes on him. Seeing him in therapy was one of the most difficult thing that Bill had done. He was bloody terrified of being anywhere near the Burrow, and the thought of even stepping foot in Percy's room or seeing that fat ruddy owl gave Bill panic attacks that made him think that he was seconds awake from snuffing it himself!
Bill didn't know how he managed to make it to the Burrow that day. He was underneath a great host of potions and was absolutely bricking it. He felt like he was suffocating and there wasn't enough air in the room.
"Perce?" Bill walked inside the house, his voice so soft that it was a whisper. His hands were shaking.
He was going to bloody faint he was going to bloody faint and make a fool of himself or he was going to bloody faint and die and Fleur would never forgive him when it was HIS turn to change Victoire's nappies today—
"William?" Percy's voice was soft, and Bill nearly jolted out of his skin when he heard it.
Bill turned around and was surprised to see that Percy was intact. He had more layers on him than one of their mother's trifles, and Bill was sure that Percy was wearing one of the smallest tops that Bill owned. How was it so bloody massive? Bill wore that jumper all the time before! It never used to be like that!
"You look peaky, are you alright?" Percy inched closer and Bill didn't even notice he was inching backwards until he hit his head back at the Weasley family clock. Percy raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, I'm doing… bloody great!" Bill replied, and then he turned even whiter. "Well—NOT bloody."
He was shaking like a bloke being thrashed around by a Whomping Willow.
"I hope not bloody," Bill mumbled to himself and Percy was glaring at him like he was speaking in Elvish. Well, not Elvish. Percy was probably one of the few people in the world that actually bothered to learn how to speak it!
"Yes! Well…" Percy crossed his arms over his chest, rocking on the balls of his feet. "Err…"
"Are you alright?" Bill asked, feeling jumpy. "I mean… you, too, look… peaky… and-and…err… err… skeleton-y."
Percy did not look like he appreciated the comment. "I'm perfectly fine, you faltering twat," he seemed to not like being told that he looked like a crup's plaything. Maybe Charlie could take him down to his new crup breeding job!
Bill reached over to grab Percy's face, and felt uneasy even though he could obviously tell that Percy was okay.
"What in Godric's name are you doing?" Percy asked him, looking even more agitated. When did Percy get so testy? "William, are you having a mental breakdown at one o'clock in the afternoon?" Yes, just in time for tea!
"Um… um…" Bill was not sure what he was having at one in the afternoon. "You're very thin."
Percy gawked at him. "Yes, I am aware," he sounded uninspired. "I also have red hair. I'm not sure if you noticed. And there are these things on my face… they look like dragon pox, but apparently, I've been born with them."
Bill was sure Percy was disintegrating right in front of his very eyes. How could someone be so small?
Oh, and the fact that Percy could literally die from potion poisoning at any second didn't give him much comfort. The thought of Percy crumbling before him, into skin, clotted blood, and thin layers of cold, clammy skin made him feel sick. He didn't know how Skeleton Percy was alive. He felt like Percy was just an Inferius sometimes, wearing a human coat stretched over his tiny little bones. Bill bet that he could crush Percy just by looking at him for too long.
This feeling was very hard for him to stomach—even harder to stomach than Fleur's cooking.
"Did you visit for a reason or just to tell me that I'm thin?" Percy broke Bill out of his trance. "Thank you for letting me know, by the way. I'm sure you've noticed, but nobody's ever bothered to tell me that!"
Percy's irritation was obvious enough. Being told that he looked thin enough to die was practically as routine as brushing his teeth for him at this point. Pity that eating was still not a very routine thing for him anymore!
Bill slowly nodded his head. "I thought to…" his voice was soft. "I thought that I could explain… the letters to you."
"What letters?" Percy reiterated. "I've not received any—"
"The letters. About the job," Bill tried to remind Percy, who seemed to have forgotten.
Percy didn't say anything after that, but eyed Bill suspiciously.
"The letters they sent to Death Eaters after the war, so they don't get jobs above minimum wage—if that?" Bill reminded Percy. "The jobs that you've had that made you able to pay for a two-sickle hot chocolate every month but nothing else? The letter that made you get a job in an unauthorised tattoo parlour? The letter that made you have to walk round selling half-off robes that made you scratch yourself like a Kneazle in heat?"
Percy looked down at his feet, like he hadn't really thought about it. Bill found that hard to believe. Percy, he who once bothered Bill to death because he'd written a false fact in one of his old Potions textbooks!
"Does that ring a bell?" Bill smiled weakly. "The letters?"
Percy didn't say anything to that. His facial expression softened, and he didn't meet Bill's eyes anymore.
"Oh… those letters," Percy's voice was soft.
Bill cleared his throat, rubbing his neck. "Yes, I thought that maybe… maybe you'd want to know how I'd managed to send a Ministry official letter," he offered an even weaker smile. "And it was—it wasn't right. But…but I was owed a favour from the bloke that drafts them. Because it's not the Minister that does, but this other bloke that does. Well… as I already said, he owes me a favour. I had the idea right after—after Charlie told me that some of his mates received similar letters from the Romanian government. Forced them to stay at home!"
Bill wished he could go back in time just to call himself a bloody twat. "Funny... isn't it?"
You're ruddy awful at this joke telling business! His inner Fred couldn't comfort him at this time. Leave it to the professionals! Stick to what you know, Bill—buying half-off earrings banned from the Egyptian government for causing adverse skin reactions!
Percy wasn't laughing. His lips were pursed very tightly.
"Yes," Percy said stiffly. "Absolutely hilarious," he then passed by Bill to go to the kitchen.
Bill's heart practically jolted out of his chest when he noticed how sad Percy seemed. This felt so uncharacteristic of him! Percy usually showed about as much emotion as Hagrid's rock cakes! Bill swallowed the lump in his throat (oddly not a rock cake) and followed Percy right into the kitchen. Bill watched Percy grabbed a little white mug off the shelf of other little white, discounted mugs. Bill felt more at ease given that Molly was inside as well, sat on the kitchen table reading one of those romantic comedy novels she loved so much.
"Bill!" Molly folded the corner of the page and then closed her book. She was mostly done with it. Well, Percy had to have gotten his speedy book-reading abilities from somewhere and it certainly wasn't their father—the bloke still hadn't answered the owl that Bill sent him a year ago about what would happen if he knocked Fleur up! Apparently now, Bill knew that pregnant woman tended to have these little things called babies. "I didn't expect to see you today! How are you? How's Fleur? And little Victoire? Oh Merlin, it's been some time since I've last seen her!"
"Everything's fine, mum," but his eyes were locked onto Percy. "Oh, and Fleur set my wardrobe on fire yesterday. Told me that much dragonhide is going to cause Victoire an allergic reaction at some point."
Charlie was bloody ecstatic when he heard that. Bill was not… did you know how bloody expensive dragonhide was?
"Oh, that's nice to hear! I'm hoping Fleur gets you to cut your hair too—I'm not sure how this has anything to do with handling Victoire but I trust Fleur to find a way to mention it! Did you know that it's been a little hectic here in the Burrow recently?" Molly said energetically. She seemed more like herself than usual. It was nice to see her genuinely happy. "George came back recently just to make more inventions to take back to his shop! And well… Charlie's supposed to start his new job today as a crup breeder! I really hope he likes it! At least crups don't breed fire!"
"Some species do," Percy replied automatically from where he was standing. "And dragons don't have rabies."
"Come off it!" Molly told Percy, who just smiled as he made himself a cup of coffee.
Molly was not convinced that breeding a few crups was as dangerous as taming dragons. Percy looked like he wanted to write an essay disproving this. Maybe it was the dragon tamer inside Percy—well… Bill didn't think that there could be much inside Percy. He had a hard time digestion the fact that Percy had internal organs in that body suit of his!
They didn't say anything after that. At least not for a few minutes.
Not being able to stand the silence, Bill walked towards Percy and stared at his brother for a little while. He could've sworn that Percy's thin hair was thicker just a few days ago! He was not this grey either a few days ago. And when did his glasses become even more comically large on his face? He looked like he was a clothing hanger advertising the second-hand jumper that he was wearing. Just looking at Percy's hair made Bill want to chug down a couple of phials of Ever Growing Hair Formula for Males… Hair Bigger than Your Erections!
Bill tentatively reached out and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. The scent of coffee filled the air. The kitchen looked nice now! He liked how Molly managed to organise all the biscuit tins. She hadn't done that in years. With a war brewing about, it was hard to care about whether the bourbon biscuit tin was next to the curry species!
"Perce?" Bill's voice was very soft.
He noticed Percy's grip on the mug handle was so tight his knuckles went white.
In an even softer voice, Bill reiterated, "Percy?" he let a few seconds pass. "Are you—?"
"What do you want?" Percy suddenly said, his voice acerbic and cold. His eyes were shining, light coloured orbs that looked like they were in so much pain. "You've told me now! Isn't that why you've come over?"
Bill noticed how Percy's chest was falling up and down, his cheeks sunken and his hands suddenly looked ten times smaller than they were. The more Bill stared at him, the more he felt like he was just about to disappear forever.
"Do you have something else to say, William?" Percy asked. Coffee was sloshing about from the rim of Percy's mug.
"Told him what?" Molly looked at Bill suspiciously. "What've you told him?"
Bill didn't notice how cold and clammy his hands became. He was too busy trying to assess the situation. Too bad his heart was beating so loudly into his ears that he could barely hear. He felt like he needed to sit down from how lightheaded he'd become. Was he having a heart attack? Bill wasn't sure, but he wasn't in the kitchen at the Burrow. He was in his own head, somewhere thick and misty and he couldn't possibly break free of these invisible thick, constricting bands that were contorting his body into this tight space.
"Oh, it's absolutely nothing," Percy told their mum, and then turned to leave the room. "It never is!"
"What did you tell him?" Molly asked the second that Percy was gone, her voice softer this time.
Bill explained things to her the best he could.
His voice was very soft, and his mother made him a cup of tea. They ate large slices of cake together with cream in them. Bill felt his stomach flip the more he ate. His mother soothingly told him that it was going to be alright, and that Percy was just not in the best mood these days.
"Really?" Bill was surprised to hear that. "What's happened?"
"I'm not really sure," Molly replied, her voice just as soft. "He's been trying to pick rows with just about anyone!"
"Percy?" Bill couldn't imagine Percy yelling anymore—unless it involved a heated discussion about the definition of a Quaffle. Percy had been relatively soft-spoken recently. It was eerily out of character. Usually, he wouldn't shut up but ever since Fred's death, he'd been very quiet. He barely talked about himself these days.
"Of course, it doesn't matter what he says," Molly told Bill. Obviously, she didn't want him to worry. "He told Ron that he thinks that Harry's the biggest crockpot he'd ever met, and all Ron's done is ask me if he's alright! Ginny's wondered if Percy's due for a mental breakdown… asked me if any of us said anything that might've made me him feel so insecure! Ron told me last night that with all the bollocks we'd been doing before Percy's suicide attempt, that he deserves the lash out! He feels less guilty with Percy rattling on about how he thinks that Ron is a useless, soulless alcoholic! Oh, and Percy told me that for someone that's supposed to keep the house under control, I'm doing a poor job of it… all because I've fallen asleep in the afternoon and I'd forgotten to dust the shelves upstairs!"
Bill was surprised to hear this. "Mum, he doesn't mean it." Why in Merlin's name would Percy say something like that?
At the same time, Bill could understand Ron's point too. He was feeling less guilty about the letter debacle already just because Percy lashed out to him about it! He wanted Percy to be angry at him for it because Bill was sick of hating himself for it and doing absolutely nothing productive or helpful about it!
"I know he doesn't mean it," Molly was convinced that there was something terribly wrong. "I'm worried about him."
Bill didn't know how to feel about this. "I'm worried about him too."
In fact, Bill was so worried about Percy that his concern only got worse over the next week.
He visited the Burrow every few days just to make sure the ceiling was still intact, and the world didn't crumble. During the last few visits, Percy's hostility was getting unexplainable, and Bill wondered if he'd said something that might've pushed Percy over the edge. When he visited, he noticed how the Burrow had been practically walking on eggshells around him, trying not to say anything that might make him feel more irritated than he already did.
Five days ago, Percy got irritated when Arthur asked him if he was alright.
"Muck off, old man," Percy told Arthur, red-faced with unkempt curls flying in all directions. Percy never looked dishevelled but he was starting to look shabbier by the day! "Don't you have anything productive to do instead of asking me about my feelings? Did you lose your precious muggle toys?" he asked. Usually, he'd be standing all by himself with an irritated facial expression. He might as well have PROCEED WITH CAUTION stamped on his face.
All he needed was a couple of Pepper-Up potions for the steam-out-of-ears effect and he'd be good to go!
There was that one time that Percy nearly broke the biscuit tin when Ron offered him a custard cream after dinner.
At that point in time, Percy's now dishevelled appearance peaked to an unPercy-like standard. Instead of his trousers being crumpled and his jumper cleaned only once instead of three or four consequence times, his clothes had holes in them, and his shoes looked dirty. His ears and hands were covered in mud and dirt. His hair looked greasier than a plate at Yuri Yum-Yum Chinese Takeaway. He looked like something the Kneazle fainted whilst trying to drag in!
"Sod your biscuits," Percy mumbled when Ron offered him a biscuit. "You should choke on them instead."
When Percy passed by Ron, he looked over at their mum with a perplexed facial expression and asked if he'd done something wrong. Bill wanted to mention that Percy didn't actually like custard creams… but that didn't explain why Percy told Ron to go choke on the ruddy biscuits now, did it!
"No, honey," Molly said, rubbing Ron's shoulder. "You know how Percy's like these days!"
These days. Bill reiterated in his head. He didn't know how long it had been going on, but apparently, it had been a few weeks! Molly mentioned that they'd been afraid to mention it towards any of the healers when they took Percy to his appointments because they didn't want to put Percy in a right mood... honestly, Bill thought it was only a matter of time before Percy said that he didn't want to go to anymore appointments anymore either!
"Ron," Bill went over to him after he made sure that Percy wasn't around them. "Are you alright?"
Ron brushed off that comment like it was nothing. He plopped one of the custard creams into his mouth and chewed. "He's getting more creative I'll give you that. Yesterday, he smacked me with one of George's socks. I still can't smell that well… and my eyes still water when I blink!" ah! So that explained why Ron smelled like a dungbomb gone off!
Bill smiled weakly. "Are you really alright?" Ron just nodded his head again.
"If I tell you I'm not, does this mean that you'll give me a few Galleons?" Ron perked up. "For not being alright? Like a gift so I could be alright again? Well, in that case, I'm really not alright. I've been feeling so unlike myself… yesterday, I even bothered to look through my old History of Magic notes… for fun!"
If Ron did that, they'd be in the emergency department of St Mungo's right now. Having his head examined for any long-term damage from Percy's unsolicited sock smacking!
Honestly, Bill was shocked by how patient his family was around Percy. Nobody lashed back at him. Nobody said anything to him that could upset him. Mind you, Percy did not run around, screeching about how unhappy he was like George used to do. But if anyone approached him—and everyone in the Burrow did just to make sure that Percy was fine, especially because he was barely talking in his own healer's appointments—the conversations would go from light-hearted to cold very quickly. Percy often cut the conversations short and left smack in the middle of them too!
The same night that Percy told Ron to stuff himself with biscuits until he imploded like the hungry hippogriff he was (yes, he added some more colourful statements after the first confrontation), Charlie took him out one day for a walk to help calm him down… and came back home with a pulsating black eye.
When Molly asked what happened, Charlie mentioned that Percy socked him in eye for no real reason!
They'd been walking along, and suddenly, Percy just hit him. Charlie was now trying to remember what he said, but he couldn't remember much of the conversation. Or if there was one at all even!
"I think he bloody well hurt himself, Bill," Charlie said to Bill, who found this very odd behaviour from a bloke that just got hurt. "He couldn't be more than seven stones. I think I shattered his arm when he tried to clock me one!"
"I'm sure… he's… he's fine?" Bill didn't know how to reply. He was more worried about the fact that Charlie's eye was in more shades than the George's new multi-coloured Pygmy Puffs!
But the more time went on, the more terrified that Bill was that one of them was just going to snap at Percy.
Their patience was slowly wearing thin, but no matter how angry his inner wolf counterpart got sometimes, Bill stayed quiet. Even if it meant biting his lip back so hard that he tasted blood. In his nightmares, he violently shook Percy until blood poured out of his eyes and ears… and then he died in his arms. Bony, bloody Percy! If it wasn't for those nightmares, Bill would've had a go at Percy ages ago! But he had a feeling deep inside himself that Percy was acting this way for a reason. This was the bloke that blamed himself for his own suicide attempt! How could he lash out at Ron for offering him a custard cream or tell his father that he was still as ambitionless as he always was?
What if he's going to try again? Bill thought. What if he wanted you to be angry at him so you wouldn't care if he died?
If that was what Percy was thinking, then Bill was happy that he'd said absolutely nothing incriminating in the past few weeks. He'd gone along and let Percy call him derogatory werewolf terms all he wanted!
Bill, you're an unintellectual flea bag that insists on running around with earrings instead of a collar.
Charlie should take you to work sometime! Breed with one of your own kind.
Stupid tail-wagging Curse Breaker.
Ron was right. Percy was indeed getting more creative with his insults! However, unfortunately, Bill was just not very good at deflecting these comments. They wounded him so much. He felt like such a barbaric animal most of the time around Percy. It didn't help that yesterday, Percy told Molly that they should take Bill to the vet for some vaccinations!
On a cold Monday morning, Bill, Arthur and Ron went to Percy's appointment along with him.
Bill had to be a little forced just to be able to drag Percy to this one, because he was too busy sleeping at two in the afternoon. The clinic wasn't even open at this time, but Percy absolutely REFUSED waking up in the morning. Instead, he snapped at Bill and told him that he could go bother Ron if he wanted to go on a walk so badly! Bill's lips were cracked and bleeding, so he resorted to biting the insides of his cheek when Percy made that comment!
"Steady," Ron told Bill, noticing how he was finding it hard to cope with Percy's off-handed comments.
Percy was sat in his pyjamas, curling up in a chair. He'd never been so angry that he'd refused to put on real pants before. Penelope walked into the room and looked surprised seeing Percy glowering at her.
"I'm surprised you managed to tear yourself away from your husband long enough to come by," Percy did not comment on the fact that the office looked like it was run over by a tornado and he should get one of the Ministry's natural disaster teams to look over it (Bill didn't know the official name for it, but Percy would know in a heartbeat!). Instead, Percy sat in the sticky-looking chair with no complaints about the looks of the place! Probably because he hadn't taken a shower in about three days, and quite blatantly refused cleaning charms.
"Percy? Are you alright?" Penelope looked surprised hearing this, but then leaned down to his eyelevel. She grabbed a diagnostic wand, and then pulled it up to his face. "This isn't like you! And how could your hair have this much GREASE? You—you barely have any hair at all! And you absolutely reek!"
Percy grabbed her very expensive diagnostic wand and flung it across the room.
"Percy!" Penelope looked a little irritated with him. "What's wrong with you?"
Percy just crossed his arms and refused to even dignity her question with an answer.
Penelope leaned forward towards Bill, Arthur and Ron, whispering "Someone hold him down, I'll get the wand". Upon this suggestion, Arthur shrivelled up like a prune, Ron looked like he was being asked to commit treason and Bill went white. What did she think they were? Hold him down? Molly would be happy to hear that! 'Mum, Percy's appointment was great! By the way, we held him down when Penelope thrust a wand into one of his orifices!'
"What?" Ron didn't like the sound of this either. "What is he? A bloody crup?"
No, Bill bitterly thought to himself. That's apparently me!
Bill glanced over at the diagnostic wand. A part of him was genuinely worried that there might be something going on with him that they didn't know about, so he just grabbed Percy by his tiny, emaciated arms and held them down to the chair. Ron jumped up from where he was sat at, screeching at him.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Ron yelled at Bill, and Bill's head pounded. Maybe he was doing something wrong! Maybe he was going to make everything worse! Maybe Percy was going to have him sent to Charlie's crup kernel for a wash and a tranquiliser potion! Bill's head was spinning. "IF YOU HURT HIM, BILL, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
Arthur's voice was soft. "Bill, let go of him," he obviously noticed that Percy's arms were getting exceedingly pale as Bill held them down. But what if this was a side effect of the potion poisoning? What if this was something they could fix? What if Percy ate one of George's aggression-inducing glitter bombs and his IQ dropped to troll?
Penelope grabbed Percy's face and then pulled up his chin to shine the diagnostic wand at his face. "Hold… still!"
"Muck off, Penelope!" Percy hissed coldly at her. "AND LET GO OF ME, YOU STUPID DOG!"
Bill allowed himself to be impressed that throughout the past few days, it hadn't percolated through Percy's mind to use the most obvious doggy insult. The one that referred to a pregnant pup—
Penelope moved her wand away from his face. "Did anyone have a look at him before?"
"No. He wouldn't let them," Bill honestly replied.
"YOU BLOODY STUPID BASTARD! RUINED EVERYTHING!" Ron yelled at Bill, and Bill looked down to notice that Percy's face was very pale and vulnerable looking. His eyes were glossy and there were tears running down his eyes. He sniffled a little, looking so broken. "I'M TELLING MUM!"
"When did this happen?" Penelope asked, and then practically sprinted over her desk to look for his files.
"About… about a month ago," Arthur explained. "Maybe more. It started around—"
"Late August?" Penelope offered, and Arthur slowly nodded his head. It was criminal. Percy threw his birthday cake outside the window and refused told Molly that he hated her baking… for no reason. "He started a new potion just a few days prior. I'm pretty sure that's the culprit. My diagnostic wand is suggesting potion-induced irritability, aggression and mood swings… which can be extremely severe if you're taking high dose potions like he is."
Bill felt a sudden relief. Percy's behaviour was just because he was drugged beyond belief… wait, that didn't sound as nice as it did in Bill's head. As Bill tried to think about this, he forgot he was still holding down Percy.
Percy didn't, because that was when Percy decided to BITE him. Merlin, he knew that Percy must hungry with being as small as he was… but-but this took the fat-free cake!
"OW!" Bill looked down to see Percy glaring at him, with wetness on his face. He shook his head and let go of Percy's arms, which were trembling. His relief suddenly contorted to sadness, because he felt like Percy had such little time to enjoy his life, and he'd spent a bloody month suffering from a potion's side effect? Merlin.
Ron collapsed into laughter.
"What are you laughing at?" Bill asked Ron in annoyance.
Penelope tapered down the potion that Percy was on until he wasn't on it anymore. That took three days.
She'd swapped it to something innocuous but getting Percy to take it required the Burrow to start a third wizarding war. In the end, they just snuck the substitute potion in his tea when he wasn't looking.
Bill had a nightmare that night about how the new innocuous potion was going to make Percy suffocate in his sleep, so he did the most logical thing he could think of… he apparated to the Burrow at around three in the morning!
At the time, he had no shoes on, his hair was a mess and the only thing he had to his name was an embarrassing Chudley Canons jumper (belonging to Ron of course. As if Bill would be caught dead in a Chudley Canons jumper in public). His long, copper-red hair was still greasy with the shelf-full of Madam Primpernelle's products that he put into every night to make sure that it didn't just lie flat against his head… which for the most part, it did.
The house was eerily quiet (well, it was three in the morning) and Bill's heart was racing in his chest.
He was either going to be admitted to the loony bin for being delusional and anxious, or Percy really did suffocate in his sleep. Bill did not know which is worse… he also felt like he might vomit one of his lungs.
With as much caution as Scabbers had when he was spying on Ron and his mates, Bill walked up to Percy's room.
He hadn't been anywhere near that room since he'd seen Percy unravel before his eyes. The closer he was, the fainter he felt. The closer he was, the more he felt his chest tighten and all the air in his lungs suddenly disintegrate, only leaving this hot burning fire in his lungs. His throat felt like it did the first (and only) time he'd ever had an Acid Pop.
When he walked into the room, the room stood still for just a second.
He digested the image before him: a very awake Percy was sat on his bed, adequately engrossed in his journal which he looked to be DRAWING at around three in the morning!
Percy… DRAWING! and if he'd walk into George's room, he'd be reading a gigantic book of Ancient Runes!
Percy looked very much focused that he didn't seem to really think much when his owl started screaming bloody murder, or when the wind rustled into the room via the open window. In fact, as Bill felt the coldness of the wind rushing down his stuttering bones, Percy paused for a moment and stuck his face out into the window to feel the cold wind pressing against his face. He smiled in a contentment that Bill didn't know Percy had ever felt.
Bill suddenly remembered how it felt like to have the wind rush into your hair when you were flying a broom and felt the burning sensation in his chest slowly ebb away. "Perce?" his voice was soft.
"William?" Percy whipped his head so fast that he dropped the pot of ink he had sat on the desk beside his bed.
Bill leaned down and pulled his wand out to siphon the ink off the floor with a Tergeo. He put the pot back up and paused when he noticed the drawing that Percy was focusing on. Bill stared at the thin lines that Percy managed to make with such a gigantic quill, strokes that were softer than the paper they lay on, and colours that he thought that Percy didn't know existed. Drops of emerald, ruby and gold encased between beautiful black lines.
Bill was probably staring at it. He realised that his mouth was probably open because Percy was glaring at him.
"If you keep your mouth open like that for any longer, you might catch glumbumbles," Percy said.
"That is absolutely brilliant," Bill honestly felt like his breath had just been taken away. He didn't know Percy could draw like that. He'd been so focused on the brush work he hadn't even noticed that Percy was drawing a phoenix. Merlin, he'd never seen a phoenix look that bloody gorgeous before. "You could be a portrait artist."
"I could if I drank more illegal Romanian elixirs. I already attempted to harm myself, so I suppose that if I produce some wonderful work, then I could die knowing that I'll be known to the wizarding world as a deranged artistic genius that tried to kill himself violently," Percy mumbled as he got up from his bed. "Do you want a biscuit?"
"I'd love one," Bill replied. "As long as they're custard creams of course."
So, he spent the night eating custard creams with Percy and talking about their favourite portrait artists.
That night, Bill finally felt like they could move on from what happened before the suicide, and Bill felt like he could forget every single word Percy had told him in the last few weeks. He wasn't sure why it felt like it was an appropriate time, but he felt very good about it and it was a very nice feeling to know that he felt like he could talk to someone. And although Bill did not talk to Percy about the nightmares keeping him up at night or what Percy felt like after they changed his potions, he felt like it didn't really matter anymore. And he wasn't sure why it didn't matter; it just didn't anymore. Bill didn't know if he was allowed to feel good or happy, but there was something about seeing Percy peer his head out of the window and smiling when that cold air touched his face that made Bill realise what he'd been missing all along. He was not sure what it was exactly, but it was something so pure and innocent that Bill realised how much of his old life he missed. The realisation made things clear and vivid and new again, like he could finally let some of the heavy fog surrounding himself to see something beautiful that had been hiding underneath it all.
Suddenly, there was no suicide attempt, or Fred's death, or that sad, lonely feeling he got at the pit of his stomach every night. Suddenly, it was just them, suspended somewhere in big, shapeless clouds… talking about ink and paint.