Reserve League, Season 8, Round 1, Chaser 1: The Lover- connection
Word Count: 1055
Percy is so tired. It isn't as though he's done anything particularly strenuous. It isn't the physical sort of tired that comes with a hard day's work. Rather, this is the sort of exhaustion that comes from forcing smiles and pretending everything is okay.
And he can't tell a damn person about it.
The Ministry isn't the same. No one really comments on it out loud, but he knows that everyone knows. The Ministry has fallen, and he cannot safely talk about his concerns. He can just imagine their mocking taunts now.
So, you want to be a blood traitor, Weasley?
Look at the baby weasel, missing Mummy and Daddy.
Sometimes he wonders if maybe mockery is better than nothing at all. Merlin, he's just so fucking lonely.
He pours himself another glass of wine, and he drinks because numb oblivion is better than this.
…
"Percy?"
He looks up, surprised to see a kind, familiar face. Penelope smiles at him; he wishes he could return the smile.
"You look well," she says, but she doesn't mean it. Percy knows exactly how he looks.
"Thanks," he says, accepting his coffee from the barista.
"Still at the Ministry?"
He nods, wishing his heart would stop fluttering so rapidly. Can Penelope hear it? If she can, she doesn't say anything. "Still working at St. Mungo's?"
"I am."
"Great. Well… See you around," he says, and he turns and walks away.
It's such a small spark, but it is everything in that moment. It's the first hint of connection that he's felt in so long, and yet he feels even lonelier.
He never should have left her. He doesn't deserve her now.
…
He drinks alone because it's easier this way. Alone, no one will pry. No one will make him talk before he's ready. Alcohol loosens his tongue so easily that a bar would become a minefield.
"I really just want them to see me," he says, his words slurring, "to remember I exist."
But he never reaches out, never really tries.
He grabs a new bottle, something stronger than elderberry wine, something to take it all away. The cap is gone now, and he doesn't bother with a glass. He just wants to be numb.
…
Penelope just happens to be in the Atrium, and she just happens to have a bag of Jelly Slugs. "Your favorite," she says, confirming that this isn't a coincidence, and she is there for a reason.
Why is Percy the reason? He isn't worth this effort.
He pulls his pocket watch out, pretending to be interested in the time. "You'll have to excuse me," he says. "I'm running late."
"Your ears turn pink when you lie," she says dryly. "Did you know that."
Percy sighs. "Fine. I'm not late," he says. "I actually have about half an hour to kill."
"Kill it with me? I was about to go for some ice cream, if you'd like to join me."
Why does she want this? Hasn't he shown her again and again that he isn't worth it? He doesn't understand what is going on inside her head, but maybe he wants to.
"Ice cream sounds perfect," he says, finally accepting the bag of Jelly Slugs.
…
"Can you feel it?" Penelope asks when she joins him for a glass of wine after dinner. "Things are changing."
"I know," he confirms.
She reaches out and takes his hand. It's such a simple touch, but it feels so significant, like this is everything he has been searching for.
"No one should be alone during this," she whispers.
…
The darkness still surrounds him. He had hoped that Penelope could change that, that all he needs is that one connection, that radiant spark to drive away the shadows. Maybe it isn't perfect, but he embraces it. He will let her in because she feels like home.
Slowly, the bottle begins to look less tempting. He is no longer drowning.
…
"What happened with you and your family?" Penelope asks.
They're sitting on the couch together, her head on his chest, as they watch the flames dance in the fireplace. She comes over more and more now until she has almost become a permanent fixture in his life.
"I was an idiot," he answers.
She snorts. "Well, I know that," she says. "You didn't actually answer my question."
How can he? The shame is still so heavy. He feels it in the marrow of his bones. It has become so heavily ingrained in everything that he is.
Ambition had blinded him. He had chosen himself over his family, and it makes him sick.
"Perce?" Her hand finds his, thumb brushing gently over his knuckles.
"I don't think you would like me very much if I told you the truth."
She squeezes his hand, a gentle reassurance that helps him find his voice. Maybe it's okay. If anyone could understand, maybe it could be her.
The words fall from his lips, and he puts his soul. He's grateful he can't see her expression. What must she think of him? Will there be judgement and hatred in those kind eyes he loves so much? He wouldn't blame her.
Silence hangs between them, and he can only imagine what she will say to him, what she must be thinking. He braces himself, preparing for the worst.
"You really are an idiot," she says, the affection in her voice surprising. "But don't worry. It isn't the end of the world. You can come back from this."
The thought seems so far-fetched that he can't help but to scoff. "How?"
"Just reach out to them," she answers. "It worked with me, didn't it?"
He pulls away, studying her curiously. "That's different."
"Yeah, it is. I'm not your family, so I'm not obligated to love you." She leans in, brushing her fingertips over his cheeks. "Your family loves you. You know that."
He really does. His father still smiles at him in the corridors of the Ministry, and his mother has written him countless letters. Even Bill invited him to his wedding.
"I'll do it," he says, exhaling softly. "I swear I will when I'm ready."
If Penelope is a spark in the darkness, who knows what will come of embracing his family once again. All he can do is try.
