Chapter Thirty-Seven
Percy Is Not A Herbologist Part 3
Before they went to the Ministry, Charlie insisted they took a nice stroll outside through Diagon Alley. Herein laid the problem: Charlie was pushing a wheelchair through cobblestones and Percy's pressure sore really hurt. Although he did not have a wand, he closed his eyes and prayed to the holy spirit of Dumbledore that a hulking, heaving stone would suddenly fall from the sky and knock Charlie out. Unfortunately, no such thing happened. Percy supposed that it might have something to do with the fact that he still thought that Dumbledore was a horrendous, imprudent nutter. Maybe.
"Mr… Mr Weasley!" a voice called out from behind him and nearly gave him a heart attack.
Percy turned to see six-foot-five Clark stood there in the darkest shade of grey Percy had ever seen. Wow! He looked so colourful. But he should watch out just in case anyone mistook him for a member of the Quiberon Quafflepunchers.
"I'm so sorry to hear about…about you know, you getting kicked out of your own treatment program!" Clark exclaimed in surprise. Percy was sorry the Ministry could easily brand him off as a giraffe. "You-you should sue them! And I don't agree at all with what Molly said about the fact that you're not even trying to make it easier for yourself!"
Percy's head throbbed. "Clark… must you talk in exclamation points?"
Clark then flinched, like a cauldron just exploded into his face. "Um…" he seemed to really be thinking about this. You'd think this was an essay question in an O.W.L instead of a rhetorical one. "Well, Mr Weasley, I do tend to show my upmost surprise with…exclamation points. And life tends to surprise me quite often, like I'm very much surprised by the fact that Charlie looks like he's surprised by the fact that you've been thrown out of treatment—"
"How could they throw you out of a PROGRAM?" Charlie was stunned. Percy was sad for him too. That was the only two hours in his day where he didn't have to make sure that Percy needed to go to the lavatory for a wee. "How come I've just heard of this? Did you lie to me, Perce, about being so downtrodden that you weren't able to attend that last session? Because you said you didn't want to go to your last session because you had that horrific bout of explosive dia—"
"I… I did," Percy cut Charlie off before he finished that sentence. This was exactly what he needed! His brother telling his daughter's boyfriend the fact that some of these nutritional supplements made it very hard for him to control his bowls. "Oh, and I suppose I was going to mention this soon enough. Charlie, I have been thrown out of my treatment program. Apparently, smacking a narcissistic seventh year Hufflepuff that your daughter was dating is considered violent behaviour. However, even if I had the ability to go, I… wouldn't want to."
Charlie rolled his eyes, and then sighed deeply. Did he already give up on him? Seriously?
"Mr Weasley…sir!" Clark exclaimed (shockingly). "How could you be both narcissistic and a Hufflepuff…sir?"
"The same way you can run away from everything in life, including your own treatment program and still be a Gryffindor," Charlie huffed as he looked down at Percy with a look that suggested that maybe he wasn't 100% ecstatic about the fact that Percy had essentially given up on trying to 'walk' after his accident. Percy had also mentally given up on his and Daphne's in vitro fertilisation attempts. "Do you not want to walk again, Percy? I suppose it's not much of a difference to you since you'd already spent most of your days sat on your fat arse. But you know, stroke rehabilitation takes up to thirty years! You've barely done a third of it! You haven't even completed any kind of hydrotherapy now. How could you be so calm about being kicked out?"
Yes, hydrotherapy! Just what his dead brain tissue needed! Did they listen to themselves sometimes? What was someone that was paralysed from waist-down supposed to do in a swimming pool besides actively drown?
"I… I am not interested in being rehabilitated," Percy said in a dull voice. "I would rather not go back."
"Oh," Clark stiffened and then looked away. "That's sad that you've given up on life, Mr Weasley."
Percy was stunned. These people acted like he had absolutely no life whatsoever. Well, he supposed that sometimes, he did. Percy could get depressed because his day consistent of nothing, but he was not sat here feeling sorry for himself most times. It wasn't anything like it had been before! He was really actively trying. "I have not given up on life! I—"
Charlie broke into laughter and Percy nearly froze at how bitter he sounded. "You haven't given up?"
Percy felt uncomfortable. He wished that he could just leave on his own accord now. He shrunk into his chair.
Are you truly fooling yourself? He asked himself, unable to answer that question. Is this a true or a false acceptance?
Charlie stopped walking in the middle of the street. The halt was so abrupt that Percy jerked out of his wheelchair for a while. He looked up to see Charlie standing there, looking absolutely enthralled.
"Merlin, you're such a selfish git," he finally said, his hands shaking with rage. "I left a career that I loved just because I didn't want you to suffer every time that you wanted to get out of your bloody chair! A career that I happily practiced in another COUNTRY even though there's nothing more I love than this bloody family!" Charlie yelled, flinging his arms around dramatically. "Look, maybe you don't want to walk again—whatever, Percy, I honestly don't care but don't you think that you owe it to everyone else that has to take care of your sorry arse to at least TRY?"
"I…I have been," Percy was so confused, and he suddenly felt guilt overwhelm him. He had no idea what to say.
"I'm sure you have, Mr Weasley," Clark nodded his head, looking like he also wanted to disappear. But he also was blathering on so fast, saying all the words that he probably shouldn't be telling him. "But Molly doesn't think so. I don't think that Lucy does either. I think—and I'm really sorry to be so rude—that they think you've given up a little bit too."
Percy looked at Clark, feeling his heart thump into his chest. If Clark, who would lick Percy's foot just to try and gain his acceptance, believed that he'd given up, then that was the way everyone else saw it too. Percy felt so sordid, so low.
All this time, they'd thought that he'd given up on himself? Did his own children thought of him too?
Clark then flushed deeply. "I…I think I should go," he obviously hadn't intended to say that. He practically left, running.
Charlie scoffed. "He doesn't need to be told that!" he shouted so loudly so that Clark would still be able to hear him across the street. Percy shuddered. His tone was unforgiving. "He already knows everyone gave up on him! Hell, the whole of DIAGON ALLEY knows that he's given up on himself. I'm the only bloody fool that's stuck around so fucking long for someone that doesn't even want to help his fucking self. It's been ten bloody years and it's not good enough for you, is it?"
Percy felt like he'd just been smacked in the face. He had never felt so confused in his life. He could tell that Charlie was thinking about a million things a minute. He was obviously fuming and in disbelief. A sudden fear came to Percy's mind that maybe Charlie was thinking of leaving him. He understood that it had been a long time. Merlin, a year was a long time… and Charlie had been taking care of him for ten! Ten years was a long time to be doing anything, and he doubted that he was ecstatic having to help a thirty-year-old man. But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel hurt by how harsh Charlie seemed like to him. If Charlie left, how was he going to be able to do anything? But at the same time, how long could he really expect Charlie to stay? Forever?
I wasn't aware, Percy thought to himself. He was devastated. I suppose I really might as well be blind…
Charlie looked so irritated that he stopped in the middle of the street. "You know what, Perce? Forgot the sodding Ministry," he locked his wheelchair in place. "I'm going for a drink. You… stay here, alright? Please. Just stay here."
Percy opened his mouth to protest, but Charlie had already walked off. He looked like he was trying as hard as he could not to curse Percy out for being so selfish. Was it really that selfish to give up after all those years of rehabilitation? Did they really expect him to go on for thirty bloody years before they accepted the fact that he was staying like this?
When Charlie left him all alone, Percy squirmed uncomfortably in his wheelchair.
After spending five minutes panicking, Percy leaned backwards. When was Charlie coming back? He doubted he'd downing a drink and then emerge from the pub calm now, would he?
He closed his eyes, letting himself attempt to relax but inside, he was both furious and terrified.
How could Charlie leave him all alone in the middle of Diagon Alley? This was so humiliating. He'd locked his wheelchair. Even if he didn't, it wasn't like Percy could manouvre his wheelchair easily without complicated shiny locks and spells after the second stroke.
A wizard that couldn't physically operate a wand. What a joke.
He spent the next few hours, thinking about how depressed he was. And how it was affecting everyone around him more than himself. He didn't understand how they expected him to be bursting with enthusiasm every time he woke up when the only thing he looked forward to was a cup of coffee! It used to be that he'd look forward to seeing his daughters around the summer holidays, but they were progressively less and less at home to the point where he forgot he even had children. He could still remember his excitement fading away when his own daughters didn't even bother to greet him when they got off the train. They were only third years at the time, and they'd already decided they could make do without him. Was that supposed to invigorate him? Inspire him? And still they found the time to criticise him! His whole family acted like it was almost unacceptable for him to have things that were beyond his control! Did they understand what an infarction really was? Did Charlie really actively believe that in the twenty-eighth year of therapy, he'd become better? Did they think that walking and snapping out of this heavy cloud of disorder was going to take a little motivational speech and a smile?
Was he not trying enough? What did they really expect from him? Was Charlie really holding onto the thought that Percy would be fine in a few hours?
He felt so alone. He thought that by the time that he got to this age, he'd find so much mental clarity. But he hadn't.
How could you age appropriately when your whole day consisted of sleeping, waking up and drinking coffee? When you talked to the same person every day, and had the same conversations? How could you enrich your mind when you couldn't even subscribe to a scholarly journal without help? How could you achieve mental clarity when the world felt so dark and bleak? How were you supposed to grow and prosper when everyone around you just reminded you of what you didn't have? How were you supposed to come to terms with your living situation when your own daughters didn't respect you? When you barely saw your wife? When your whole day was surrounded by someone that was sick of doing things for you?
How were you supposed to progress? How were you supposed to feel mature when you couldn't go to the loo yourself?
What was he supposed to DO? Did they reject his disability?
Sighing, Percy wished he could check up on Charlie. He felt so uncomfortable. But he also knew Charlie had a tendency to go overboard the second he had a tipple, so he supposed he was going to be here for some time. He tried to unlock his wheelchair but even with his crazy long arm wasn't exactly able to do it because the lock was too advanced for his big fat head. So now, he was stuck here in the middle of the bloody street with nobody around. The later it got, the more anxious Percy felt. Did you know how frightening it was to be left alone when you couldn't be? What if Charlie didn't come back? What if he just left him all alone here? What if he was just sick of him? How was anyone supposed to know he was here? Percy then leaned back, feeling hot tears blur his vision. Merlin, how pathetic. A thirty-year-old man that couldn't be left alone in the street without having a nervous breakdown. But he cried so often these days that it didn't even shock him anymore.
Percy felt ashamed with everyone walking past him and giving him confused looks. It must be such a sight! A crying cripple!
He felt so embarrassed that he wished that the earth would open up and swallow him whole. He visibly flushed when a lady stopped to make sure he was fine (yes, he was absolutely fine. He always hung around Diagon Alley, weeping, in the sweltering heat with a jacket and a heaving blanket!). How could he lose it? It was just a couple of hours. At home, he would have no issues with this. He could be left alone with a book that he'd reread for ages without making a sound, but the thought of just seeing all these people and being so powerless made him feel quite sick.
After about two additional hours of waiting, Percy was visibly panicking. It was getting dark outside. He was starving. He had cried up to the point where his whole body ached with exhaustion. Lucky him. He did suppose that was why people were under the assumption that he'd given up. You probably did give up, he'd reasoned with himself. People that tend to prosper are not slumped up on a wheelchair, being hysterical for three hours.
He had no wand. His wheelchair was locked, and he had no visible means of communication. He was sure that Charlie was so plastered he'd probably forgotten all about him…
He then heard the click-clack of boots and the sound of a disgruntled Charlie.
He approached from behind him, and was absolutely soaked in the stench of firewhiskey.
He was really pissed, and Percy couldn't wait to just go home. Percy did wait for an apology of some sort, but it never came. In fact, Charlie seemed to be angrier at him now than he was before.
He was so drunk that he couldn't even unlock his wheelchair for the first few minutes. When Percy went to try and unlock it himself, Charlie smacked his hand away almost immediately. When Charlie pushed his wheelchair, Percy grabbed a hold of Charlie's arm and looked at him with fearful-looking eyes. "Are…are we alright?" Percy asked.
"No, Perce, we're not fucking alright!" Charlie replied back hotly. "I'm-I'm sick of you! Get yourself a bloody nurse."
Percy looked down at his feet, feeling his heart hammer faster in his chest. What could he say to this? Charlie had really gone above and beyond for him and Percy was not exactly the easiest person to be around. His wife worked often so she didn't seem to mind him so much, but his daughters couldn't stand him. Nobody else came to see him. Charlie, who spent all day with him, hated him.
By the time that they'd gotten to the flat, Charlie seemed to become even less coordinated. Their elevator was broken so Charlie tried to push him up the stairs. Percy looked back at him worriedly.
By the time they got to the flat, the first thing Charlie did was run in and then pack his bags. Percy felt a little unsettled about the whole thing but said nothing at all. What was he going to say? Please do more than you've already done for me?
Charlie cursed because he had no ability to pack whatsoever. He then picked up his wallet and jammed it into his pocket. "I'll get a room in Broomstick Inn," he finally said, to which Percy just replied with a long stare. "Aren't you going to do anything, Perce? Ask me not to leave because nobody else is going to be washing your arse at three in the morning? Do you really have nothing to fucking say to me after all this time, you—"
"Please don't go. Not tonight," Percy cut him off almost immediately. Charlie went quiet, his eyes glossy.
Charlie's hands were balled together into a fist. "Why? You're scared that you won't be able to deal a whole night with your wife? She's going to come home in an hour, Perce. I doubt that you're going to need me that much—"
"It's not that," Percy rolled his eyes. "You'll splinch yourself if you apparate in this state."
"Oh," Charlie looked a little guilty for assuming the worst. Percy just raised an eyebrow.
You just take and take and take, Percy mused to himself, feeling low. No wonder nobody enjoys being around you anymore…
Charlie's shoulders slumped and then he placed a hand on Percy's hand. "Perce, I'm going to be thirty-eight this year. I…I can't continue taking care of a grown man," he tried to explain, and the explanation hurt more than he thought it would. Even though Percy understood, it still made his chest ache to hear Charlie say this to him. "I just…I lost it today. I can't keep doing this forever, you know. I can't, and something has to give but…you know? I'm sure mum wouldn't mind. I mean she already sends about ten million owls a day, and she's going to feed you better than I do that's for sure."
Percy wanted to say a thousand things after that. Why did it have to give today? Why couldn't there be any warning? And the thought of having to be taken care of in the Burrow made his skin crawl. He felt so disappointed.
"You're being real understanding," Charlie's surprise really offended Percy. What did he expect he'd do?
Percy just raised an eyebrow at him. "Does it really surprise you that much?" he asked. "Is that what you think of me?"
Charlie looked at him, looking like he really wished that he hadn't said that. He didn't leave. He stayed and took Percy to the lavatory for a shower after how icky and disgusting they were from being in the sun for so long. He changed him into comfortable cotton-grey pajamas and then ordered an Indian takeaway. Charlie even got him out of his wheelchair and sat on the couch for the first time in ages. Percy was eating a chickpea curry with Charlie in silence but didn't seem to mind that it was at the couch. He had so many things on his mind. Charlie was scoffing through his chicken tikka masala, a gigantic portion of naan bread and more rice than Percy could possibly stomach in one sitting.
Percy nearly dropped the plate to the floor when he heard his wife come in.
She looked to be in a right mood. Daphne grabbed the spoon from his hand and then took a mouthful of his curry. Percy would be disgusted if not for the fact that they've done much worse. She angrily chewed and then stole the rest of his plate without even asking. He realised that he was thin, but he typically liked to, you know… eat. Before Percy could say anything, Lucy stormed into the room straight after. Her short red hair was askew. She was wearing the tightest and shortest lacy lavender-coloured frock Percy had ever seen and it infuriated him so much that he swore he almost felt his toes for the first time in ten years. He was hyperventilating and his eyes were wide. He was sad to say that he was ashamed she went to the Ministry looking like that.
But more than anything, he was so ashamed of himself. How was he so unable to control his children so much?
"Great job today, Lucille," Daphne finally said, sounding cold and very unlike herself. Percy shuddered. "Perfect!"
"That's not fair!" Lucy looked a mixture of furious and vulnerable. Lucy then broke into tears, real horrible tears. "I'm sorry my best isn't good enough for you! I'm so sorry I couldn't do all your shiny reports all by myself when I don't even know what YOU WANT FROM ME! Ugh! I thought you'd be fine, but you're even worse than dad!"
Percy squirmed in his seat. "Worse than me?" he smiled weakly at her. "I don't really think that's p—"
Lucy just pushed past him without even tossing another look at him. He might as well have been wearing an invisibility cloak. He turned to Daphne to talk to her, but she'd just walked past him with his plate in her hands. Percy felt a little deflated. He spent all day waiting for his daughters and his wife to come back home like a well-trained crup, only to be completely ignored. At least they'd pet a bloody crup. They didn't do so much as acknowledge his existence.
"…possible," Percy finished off his sentence, but both Lucy and Daphne had already left.
He could hear Charlie grumbling beside him. He looked like he was fuming.
"Can you take me to Lucy's room? I want to talk to her," Percy finally asked. He was so sick of today. He would do anything just to have it end, because he obviously wasn't bloody well enjoying it now, was he? He was so sick of his now pitiful existence. And to add that on, he didn't know how he was going to cope without Charlie anymore.
Let them find a bloody solution, Percy thought to himself. They don't have to think about you at all during the day. Now, they will.
Just in that instance, Molly walked into the room, holding a pair of pressed robes. Yes, his daughter took money from him specifically to get her robes pressed when they could do it at home. Even Malfoy's would find that to be a real waste!
Charlie shook his head. "You can't let them treat you like this," he finally decided to say. "You—"
"Charlie, you-you left me outside in the street for hours alone out in the street whilst you went out to drink! I hardly think you're one to talk to me about how others are mistreating me," Percy cut him off because he genuinely didn't want to hear anymore. Charlie looked surprised by the backlash, but he looked really guilty about it. "I…I apologise. A few hours really does not compare to ten years of servitude on your end. I just…I'm frustrated. How has my life become so…so out of control?" he then looked over at Molly, who had stolen whatever was left of Percy's curry container and eating straight from it.
"Servitude?" Charlie looked at him with a hard look. "Come on, Perce, it wasn't like that at all."
"No, I suppose underneath all that glamor, joy and pain that dragon taming brings, you've always wanted to care for a thirty-year-old that couldn't get out of bed without your assistance," Percy's lip twitched into a weak smile. He knew what he was. He knew that what he had was not typical. He knew that he couldn't blame Charlie for not being able to tolerate him just as much. He sighed deeply and looked down. He glanced over at Lucy's room and felt his chest hurt. "I…I don't know what to do with her." He couldn't physically stop her from going out and she didn't even respect him! How did muggle parents do it when your child didn't respect you? When you literally had no power?
Percy couldn't even get up from the chair by himself. He was about as intimidating as a rock that had 12 O.W.L's. He needed her more than she could ever need him and that terrified him. He was her father for Merlin's sake, but he hadn't felt like that in ages.
"Um, dad, you need to be strict with her," Molly said from behind him. Yes, dear Molly, who thought there was a solution for every problem under the sun and that he simply was too blind to see it. "You can't let her do whatever she wants. Or whoever she wants…" she rolled her eyes and Percy winced at the thought. But he knew.
Of course, he knew. He knew that Lucy was about as sexuality active as a Knockturn Alley prostitute. If not more. He wasn't blind. He didn't think that all of those Wizarding Witch's Highly Accurate Pregnancy tests were Daphne's.
"Yes, I'm going to control her sat here on this chair," Percy sarcastically said. "I'm going to ground her. Oh yes, I will! I'm going to lock her door because it's not like she's escaped through the window before. I'm going to barricade her window for the rest of her life. Yes, I suppose that's an appropriate response. And at Hogwarts, I'm going to ensure that I always have a teacher watching her. I'm going to cast virginity charms that have been labelled as intrusive and disturbing just to make sure that she doesn't sleep with another bloke." He closed his eyes. What did she expect that he'd do exactly?
Molly looked surprised at how brash his tone was. "Dad, I—"
"Do you understand how powerless I am?" Percy suddenly sounded out. "She doesn't respect me or my wishes. Every conversation we have—and that is if she bothers to have a conversation with me at all ends with her mentioning that I'm not her father and that she can do whatever she wants. I can't convince her to eat wholemeal toast for breakfast. Do you think I really have that much of an impact on her life, Molly? If it's so easy, why haven't you done anything about it?"
Molly looked affronted for a second, but then her facial expression changed. "She's your daughter, dad."
"I know but you're her sister, aren't you? Were you able to get through with her?" Percy's eyes didn't break contact with hers for a second. Molly flinched but Percy was merciless. He went from depressed to self-pitying and exhausted to absolutely fuming. You'd need an Imperio just to get through to Lucy, and Percy couldn't even do that if he wanted! "What do you want me to do?"
Molly opened her mouth to speak but then paused to think. Then in a whisper, she said, "You can talk to her…"
"Talk to her? TALK to her?" Percy couldn't help but erupt into laughter. He laughed so hard that he thought that he was going to cry. Molly winced, retracting backwards. "Please, Molly. Don't… don't make me laugh."
If he talked to her, it would do nothing except put them both in a bad mood. Just like the last five thousand times that he'd talked to her.
"There is a serious communication problem in this house," Percy finally said. They might as all be living separate lives. Daphne, Molly and Lucy practically used this flat as a hotel whilst Percy spent his whole day in the flat. He spent a total of eight hours a day with his wife, all of them with her sleeping! "How am I meant to do something when nobody is listening to anything I say? Do you know how many times I've talked to Lucille? Do you know how many times I've talked to Daphne? How am I supposed to have an impact on people I barely see? People I barely even know anymore?"
"You…you know me," Molly weakly replied. "You know that-that I…I'm dating Clark and…um…I am up to date with The Practical Potioneer and…" she was nervous. And why did she suddenly have selective amnesia? She knew that Percy knew more about her reading material, but for the life of her, she couldn't think of a single example! Brilliant!
Percy stared at her with a look that was as serious as a Dementor ready to suck your soul. "No, darling," he shook his head. "And if you really think that I know you, then we're worse off than I thought."
He looked down at his feet. Oh… he didn't remember having slippers put on? "Charlie is leaving tomorrow."
Shock registered on Molly's face. "W…what? How are you so calm!" she yelled, waving her arms dramatically. Wisps of her bright red curls fell in front of her face and Percy remembered the days where he fondly used to comb her hair. He hadn't done that in years. He couldn't even remember the last time they sat and talked. That killed him. "Does Daphne know about this? I don't understand…when did this happen? How come you haven't told us about it! Dad, this…this…"
"I haven't told you because it's only happened today," Percy replied calmly. "No, she doesn't know. I'll tell her tonight."
"He can't do that!" Molly shook her head in disbelief, panicking. "Who-who's going to take care of you?"
"Why can't he leave? He's spent ten years taking care of me," Percy said hotly. All this disdain finally hit him. He felt angry. He'd spent his whole life taking care of people that had no interest in him. And then when he lost his ability to do much, they tossed him like he wasn't their problem. "Maybe it's time that you do the same."
