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Sorry it was a little while before I posted again.
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Chapter Twenty-Nine.
Percy knew it was odd, but to escape a whole lot of thoughts he did not particularly want to delve into he began walking to the business district he had been to the few days ago where he had bought his new clothes. Walking steadily to a certain destination seemed to calm him somewhat and this was increased when he saw the business people walking around again. He pulled out his pocket watch and frowned, remembering when he had unwrapped the gift on his coming of age birthday. He had been Head Boy and had had his own bedroom of course, but his sleep had been interrupted at 4:23am when the twins had bombarded his room and with absolutely no respect, jumped on him, wishing him a happy birthday. He had never thought being born at such an early time would come to be so inconvenient.
He had unwrapped his watch back then and had looked at it in wonder – it was absolutely perfect and he had had a surge of love for his parents for knowing him so well.
Fred had snatched it off him, "Oh, flashy!"
George had agreed, "Very extravagant."
"Yes, Percy's obviously the favourite!" Fred added.
"Perhaps we'll have to share a watch for our coming of age?" George said.
Percy had seized his watch back, gently cradling it back in the box, with a faint smile on his face.
But perhaps he ought to buy a new watch, he thought to himself now. Michelle had seemed so in awe of it and Muggles seemed to wear those wrist watches a lot more. He had no idea how they had entered the fashion – they seemed to be so dull with absolutely no character. But that was Muggles for you.
He entered a nice little coffee shop near the clothes store he had been in before, and ordered himself some food and a coffee. To be honest he suddenly had a craving for pumpkin juice and he wondered if it would be possible to make it…
He seated himself while he waited for his order to be brought over and he drummed his fingers on the table, absentmindedly. So Morgan was a ghost – his Slytherin had sacrificed her afterlife for her brother. He felt sick to the stomach at that. People always thought that sort of thing was romantic, staying behind for someone – but they did not understand that the people they stayed behind for grew old and died too. And they would be left alone. He shivered at the thought of his Morgan wandering the corridors of Hogwarts – for surely that was where she would eventually go, the only place she had left. What would the students call her? Helena Ravenclaw was the Grey Lady, there was the Bloody Baron, the Fat Friar, Nearly Headless Nick…Such unfamiliar nicknames for unfamiliar people. Oh Morgan, what did you do?
He thanked the kindly waitress as she brought over his coffee and piece of cake, and took a sip as a woman stepped into view.
He stared at her, and she him for a moment, until he realised with dread that she had been the very pretty serving girl in the clothes shop who had asked him out on a date – what was her name? Tamara! He had stood her up – oh, he thought with a sinking feeling, he had stood her up!
"Oh…Hello," he said awkwardly.
"Hello," she said with a cool smile which he knew was the smile of a snubbed woman, "Don't mind me. I'm just fetching some coffee."
"I see…"
She stood there, her foot tapping and her arms folded, and he said desperately, gesturing to the seat across from him, "Perhaps you would like to take a seat?"
She looked at him suspiciously, then said with a haughty tone, "Oh no, I don't want to bother you."
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and mumbled, "It's no bother, really…" then he sighed – remembering a tip his Father had once imparted on him when he had been in the dog house with Percy's Mother – "Apologise, always apologise. If you're in the wrong, apologise. If you're uncertain, apologise. You can never go wrong with apologising, my boy," and Percy said clumsily, "I'm awfully sorry about the other night…"
"Hmm?" she looked at him, arching her eyebrows; then feigned recollection, "Oh! The wine bar – oh don't be silly – why, I had forgotten all about that night myself. Are you coming in sometime to get your suits made?"
Now, Percy knew a little thing about women – and that was that even if they said something was alright, it generally wasn't, and he continued his stumbling words, fiddling with the napkin on the table, "It's not you – you're a – you're a very, very desirable woman…I mean, I could hardly believe you were at all interested in me…" his voice trailed off as he suddenly raised one eye to see how this was going. Her stature had softened somewhat – ohh, this was promising, and he continued, "Any man would be more than lucky to have a relationship with you, but…But…I'm not really in a position to…"
"Oh!" comprehension seemed to dawn upon the girl and she moved into the seat that Percy had moments before offered her, "Are you gay?"
Percy spluttered, "No! No – I –" he looked around alarmed, to see if anybody had heard, "No – I just – I can't commit to anything – it wouldn't be fair to string you along –"
Tamara laughed, but it was gentle and soft, and her hand reached over and touched his hand lightly. She was about to say something but her eyes widened as they both heard a ripping sound, and she dropped his hand, touching her leg self-consciously, "My – my stocking just ripped –" she then laughed mortified, "Everything seems to happen around you, doesn't it? First the button on my blouse, then…"
Percy shifted on his seat, in inner turmoil – what was wrong with him when it concerned this woman? He had literally set alight with colourful sparks when she had first touched him!
After she had recovered, she smiled again, "Look, I understand – have you just suffered a breakup? You seem the nice type – you shouldn't be so paranoid," she giggled again and Percy felt a tingle in his hands, "It was just a glass of wine, that's all. I wasn't going to get out the bridal magazines that night. Why don't you make it up to me? Tomorrow night, the same place – I'll write the details down for you. You can buy me a drink?"
"Mmm," he said awkwardly.
Her smile deepened, "Really, just some wine. No strings attached," from her blouse pocket she pulled out a pen and piece of paper, and scribbled an address, then handed it to him.
He paused for a moment; then took it, with a shrug and a polite smile, "Fine. Yes, a drink," and tried not to look as she slid off her ruined stockings right in front of him, revealing her pretty legs, before stuffing the material in her handbag.
He was walking back to Michelle's apartment afterwards, when he saw her heading his way. She smiled and waved, quickening her pace to meet him halfway, "Hello," she said, "I'm just out to buy some groceries. I left you a note on the counter. Were you alright before?"
He remembered how he had rushed out without much warning and he felt a little silly, "Oh – yes – I'm sorry about that – I'll finish sorting out the records –"
"Oh, no need," she replied, "I already did that. And I think you'll find a nice surprise when you get back," she smiled coyly.
"Ohh," he replied, "I wonder –"
Something happened at that moment and he was not able to figure it out exactly till afterwards. A sound like gunpowder or an explosion erupted from behind him – and images of the Battle at Hogwarts enveloped him so suddenly he was crying out himself. He threw himself to the ground, as images of debris flying around him and Fred's body helplessly flinging itself forward crashed over him. He had not realised till he heard her frightened squeak that he had collected Michelle in his arms and threw her down underneath him. His whole body was shaking and he pulled himself away from her before he threw up on the pavement, cradling his head as he remembered Harry and Ron trying to pry him off Fred's dead body, "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry – I'm going mad," was all he could say as Michelle slowly pulled herself up, hissing from the sting of a grazed palm, "I don't know – what was that explosion?"
"It was a car backfiring on the street over there, Percy," she explained looking oddly down at him, "What did you think it was?"
Percy staggered to his feet, "I don't know," he lied shakily, and took her hand in his, "I'm so sorry," he closed his hand gently over hers, trying to will all his regret into it.
"It's alright," she said, though a little uncertainly, and took her hand away. She blinked in confusion as she examined her hand afterwards, and touched the blood, "That's odd – there was a graze. Now it's just dry blood – must not have scraped it like I thought," she then smiled, "No harm done. But are you alright? Really, Percy?"
"Yes, I'm fine…I'll meet you back at your place."
Sighing he unlocked the door of the flat, and immediately he understood what she had meant about the surprise and he could not help but laugh. The jumble of mess he had left earlier was now tidied away. It did not look like the obstacle course that it had been. Items of clothing and miscellaneous things were not scattered around the floor. That had been his only condition of moving in. He chuckled and went into the kitchen to find the note she said she had left him on the counter.
Surprise! I told you I'd make an effort.
Just gone to buy a few things. The leftover pikelets are in the fridge.
~ Agent M.
He smiled and from the refrigerator took out the plate of pikelets. Putting one in his mouth he moved back to the lounge room where he relished not having to rummage around for a seat, and he sat down looking around. He stood and moved over to a framed collage of photographs on the wall. They must be photographs of Michelle and all her friends, all acting the fool together. There was one with her jumping into a puddle, and the other with her arms around a handsome young man…Suddenly his eyes fell upon one – it looked like it was old and it had been creased up. It was of a man with a mess of hair, wearing horned rimmed glasses and a grin. A cigarette was hanging from the corner of his mouth, and though the picture was not moving like the ones back home did, with the way the man was holding the small wriggling child in his arms, Percy could tell that he was trying to ensure the little girl did not snatch the cigarette from him.
But all Percy could do was stare.
And stare.
And stare.
He knew that man. Well, really, he knew of the man. He had seen him before…But where?
A sudden recollection of the Triwizard Tournament Yule Ball crashed over him from those years ago. He had gone to the dance instead of Barty Crouch, his boss, and had been so proud of himself. Ugh, no wonder they all called him a prat…
He had been allowed to bring a guest of course but Penny had been sick that night. He had been rather disappointed, to be honest, he had always felt more secure with her arm through his at these sorts of gatherings and he felt a pang at her being ill. He had missed her while he had watched Fred dance exaggeratingly with Angelina Johnson…
It was during a break in the music that he stole a few seconds outside. From his pocket he pulled out a hand-held mirror and gently crooned into his cupped hands, "Penny…Penny…"
"Mmm," he had heard her moan, "I'm sleeping, Perce."
Her face appeared in the glass, and he smiled at her mane of curls all recklessly a mess.
"Then talk in your sleep to me," he pleaded.
She sighed, rubbing her eyes, "…How is the dance?"
"Boring. Bland. Brilliantly abysmal," was his reply.
She smiled humorously, "Oh, very good alliteration. Ten points for Gryffindor!"
He lowered his voice, saying mischievously, "I'd rather another sort of reason for points added for Gryffindor."
He blushed pink at his ridiculous boldness, and she laughed in spite of her illness, "Percy Weasley!" then touched her mirror fondly, "I'm sure it's actually all exciting."
"Mm...Not without you here."
"Aren't you sweet...Who is performing for it? Surely not the choir?" Penny asked.
"Oh, no, no... It's those Weird Sisters," Percy replied with a shrug.
"The Weird Sisters? Really?" Penny suddenly looked excited.
"What's wrong?"
"I like them..." she said longingly, "Oh, I wish I could be there with you…" she looked at him hopefully.
He translated her look correctly, "Oh, Lord, please don't ask me."
"Peeeeeercyyyyyyy.." she begged.
"No. I have – I'm hiding from Ginny as it is," he said firmly.
"It'd make me feel better if you got me a few signatures.." she said shamelessly.
Percy rolled his eyes and sighed fondly.
"You're high up in the Ministry, surely you know everyone," she continued.
"You have no shame. Ginny already tried that with me – but – just some autographs?"
She smiled mischievously, "Well, I don't think you would appreciate it if I wanted them over for a shagging and breakfast the next morning."
"Oh, definitely not," Percy said pompously, with a smirk.
"Then yes, autographs will be fine."
Percy smiled slightly, "I'll try."
"I love you, Perce," she kissed her fingers, then touched her mirror.
Percy copied this action himself, but said brashly, "I know."
"Oh good Lord," was Penny's last words before she disappeared, "I wish you had never watched that stupid Star Wars with your Dad, the Han Solo act is getting old."
He laughed and pocketed the mirror, deciding on just how he would meet the band when he overheard a door slam a few meters away. A man with long hair wearing a ripped and hairy looking robe, stormed out, lighting a cigarette and puffed on it. A few moments later, an older man with a mess of hair aggressively swung open the door and stormed out behind him.
"Get back on stage," the older man snarled with a very Cockney accent.
"Merlin, you need to get laid," the Weird Sisters band member replied snippily.
"I have. Your Mother was a great tumble," the man said sarcastically, "Look, I don't give a shit how drunk you are, you get your precious little arse back on that stage and you woo that damned audience of kids."
"I'm not drunk, I have a head-"
"I said bloody do it!"
"Damn Hades," the singer retorted, "Can't you get us decent gigs? Isn't that what we pay you for? I mean – Hogwarts? A bloody school?"
"Oh – oh –" the older man gasped and slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand, "Oh I'm sorry, forgive me! You – you actually think you're a real musician? Your demographic are bloody teens you idiot!"
"Oi! We have more than that!"
"Oh, yes, I forgot," the older man spat, "You also have those little Dementor looking punks. The ones who raid their Mother's makeup drawer for the mascara!"
The singer swore at him but turned and stormed back through the doorway. The man stayed there for a few more moments and sighed, rubbing his face wearily. But before Percy could think he should go and ask him to help him get autographs, he had left as well.
Percy stared at the man in the photograph, recognizing him as not only the producer of the Weird Sisters and a few other famous Wizard bands, but the culprit who had been responsible for funding an underground wizarding station that had been responsible for spreading the truth through the last battle. What on earth had happened to him? Percy had heard rumours that the Death Eaters had gotten a hold of him, but that was all that was. A rumour. And why was there a picture of him on Michelle's wall?
She returned later and it was some time later he remembered to ask her, after they had gone out for his skating practice. It was just as he was readying himself for bed and she was going out to work, that he asked, "Who is that man in the picture, Michelle?"
She looked up at where he was pointing, "Oh, that's my Dad, and me he's holding."
Percy looked at the dangling cigarette – oh he'd certainly never win any Father of the Year awards, and he said curiously, "The one you said is in Paris?"
"Mmhmm," she said tying up her bootlaces, "I only have one of them. I'll see you later, okay?"
Percy did not know what to think. The man was certainly not in Paris – or was he? And so – did that mean Michelle was a…A witch? How was he going to find out?
"Alright, good night," was all he could say.
