Flowers for Scabbers

Chapter Nineteen

Potionless Jokes

"So, this is it, huh?" Fred put his thin, freckled hands into his pockets as he walked into Shell Cottage.

It was a small but homey little den in the middle of fuck-all. Bill had placed so many protective charms that you'd need a whole team of Curse Breakers just to get in past the first ten anti-apparition charms. Fred and George had spent a whole fifteen minutes outside, melting from the heat before Bill was convinced that the weren't clones, or Death Eaters that downed a vial of Polyjuice (if Death Eaters had the time to brew Polyjuice, did you think they'd be using it to impersonate a couple of pranksters?). They had a teeny-tiny fireplace that would probably set their arse on fire if they'd ever Floo-ed their way through it, and café-au-lait-coloured walls with more paintings than a museum; second-hand, botched and painted by Merlin-knew-who.

The first thing Fred smelled when he walked in was a sharp, hot spice, like nutmeg or star anise, but it mellowed out into sickly-sweet fumes. It was like he was eating a spiritually confused gingerbread man. This scent sensation was a curtsey of the thousand and one candles that Fleur Delacour lit. Some of them were cinnamon-clove-hotter-than-Angelina-Johnson-spiced ones and the rest were sugar-vanilla-Pixie-Puff-something.

Merlin, what a nightmare. It reminded him of that one time they've managed to sneak into the girls' dormitories.

"Yes, this is home," Bill stuck his chin up in a very Percy-like manner, smirking a little at how prideful he was of his little tomb of death. His mum would be pleased. Fred thought that their little house couldn't overflow with more stuff, but Bill had Christmas stockings up in April and still had red fairy lights strung up. Lazy arsehole. "Um… guys," he couldn't hide the smile that was on his face, but he was trying to. "So, err… Percy's gone off to take a shower."

"Alone?" George asked incredulously.

"Huh," Fred looked confused, but took it in. "Not like he's not collapsed before just trying to stand up or anything."

Bill flinched. "Yeah, but…" he paused. "Well, I couldn't say no."

Fred tried to imagine Percy asking him for something. If Percy told Fred that he wanted to be a Death Eater and marry Bellatrix Lestrange, he'd probably just give him his best wishes. "Reckon he's finally woken up then?"

"Yeah, I think he has," Bill sounded so optimistic that even Fred's spirit had been lifted. "Woken up I mean."

It had been a month since Percy had started using the dialysis machine. Since then, he'd done nothing but eat and sleep twenty-three hours a day. Which, you know, was an improvement from being a workaholic that looked like he'd come down with the first case of wizarding consumption since the 1800's.

"I don't think that he's in trouble," Bill obviously hadn't thought it through when he let Percy do that. "It's just…you know, he was walking and talking and…so normal that I didn't think that I…" he shook his head. "He's alright."

For the past few weeks, they still had to force him out of bed to take a bath and shave that thing growing on his face that made him look like a crazed homeless man that was about to nick your shopping. Every two weeks, they valiantly managed to get him to stay awake long enough to cut his hair before he turned into Bill's comatose twin. They've barely gotten a word out of him in the whole month. Percy's level of communication was limited to troll-like grunts, and in the rare instances that he talked, he was so groggy that he was about as incomprehensive as a plastered Charlie at three in the morning. They usually had to make him down a caffeine potion just to get him to stay away for longer than the five minutes that he needed to inhale his plate of shepherd's pie. Mental, honestly. And it was so bad that they were afraid that one day; he just wouldn't wake up at all.

"Do you think he's okay?" George asked in a whisper.

Bill couldn't hide the beaming smile on his face. "He…well, he hasn't said anything about work or anything so far." That was a record, considering Percy used to dream about work. "He seems to know where he is. He's appalled by the state of himself. I think…I really think that he is okay…at least—at least for now."

George groaned. "Sounds just like the cocky bastard," he muttered. "He's himself for the first time in ages and the first thing he thinks about is how everything's such a state." But he was smiling, really smiling.

"Yeah," even Bill had that almost dreamy look on his face. "I know."

"Did you get to talk to him?" Fred suddenly prompted, which earned a sad shake of the head from Bill.

"No, but…" he made a gesture with his hand. "Well, we'll get to talk to him when Percy comes back. Have you ever thought of that? That we can actually talk to him now?"

"Talk to me about what?" Percy's uninterested voice was a comfort to Fred's ears.

Fred turned around and was stunned taking him in. He looked great! His cheeks were plumper and rosier, probably because he managed to eat and drink without having a dragon tamer hold him down. His bright blue eyes weren't massively dilated to the point of popping out of his eye sockets. His hair was still flat and straight, but he'd cut it in a way that made him look a real prick. Instead of twenty-year-old jumpers and sweatpants that had three hundred stains on them, he was wearing his plain black robes and underneath that, a pair of white trousers and a fitted black-button down with golden buttons. Something he'd wear every day before without a second thought, because he had to look like a priggish prat at all times. Fred had almost forgotten all about that!

Fred blinked a few times, trying to take in Percy in all his conceited arsehole glory when Percy raised an eyebrow at him.

"Perce!" Bill beamed over at him. "You look—"

"This cottage is a fire hazard," Percy grabbed the coffee pot beside Bill that was still mostly full and poured himself a cup of coffee that he very generously doused in three lumps of cream and sugar. "I bet that working in the dragon reserve with Charlie is safer than this." He blew on a candle and extinguished the flame. He scrunched up his nose in disgust, and then coughed. "Merlin, what is that smell supposed to be anyway?" He paused. "And your security charms aren't very securing now, are they? I could walk in and out just fine." Percy could probably break into Gringott's with his own sheer will if he wanted. He let his hands drop to his sides. "Did you have any breakfast? Is there any left?"

Bill was stood there, agape at what Percy just said. "Yeah, well," he blew out another candle, "We're working on the candles. She…believes that they ward off dark spirits. Luna lent her a book about…" he stammered, because did he really want to be talking about candles when Percy had just come to? "And our charms are just fine! It's just… it's the first time we've talked to you in years, Perce, so forgive me if I haven't given you a full run through!" he rolled his eyes.

Percy sipped his coffee. "There seems to be a war or something happening outside so I'm under the notion that the full run-through isn't optional," he said, as if it was something that Bill didn't know. But the way that Percy said 'war or something' made Fred realise that he had no idea what was going on all that time. "Don't look at me like that. I don't recall a war being there when I was last coherent—and that had to be…two? Three years back now?"

"You let him go outside?" Fred asked, and Bill just flushed.

"Yeah, well—I couldn't say no to someone that just woke up from a one-month coma now, can I? And it was just to walk a little outside. He wasn't apparating to Diagon Alley or anything," Bill answered. "Yeah, well… there's a war going on. Ron left with Harry and Hermione out on an expedition—well, Ron came here for a while, saying something about him having a fight with Harry—but he went back so I guess that everything's alright. Well, I say expedition, but what I mean is they're going on a perilous journey that a couple of school children shouldn't even bother attempting but…well, you know how they're like," Percy rolled his eyes. "Hogwarts thinks Ron is sick at home with spattergroit and can't go back to Hogwarts but it's really just the family ghoul transfigured to look like Ron, you know, being sick. Fred, George and dad helped him out."

Fred snorted. "Ronniekin's never looked any better I reckon," which made George crack a smile.

"I think it's the greenish hue that really give depth to the look," George agreed.

"They're where? They've done what? They're… they're not even of age yet! How did mum and dad just let them go off into Merlin knows where? And since when are you two that good at transfiguration because I know that dad hadn't done it! He can barely use his own wand for a siphoning charm most days," Percy looked down at his coffee and rubbed his neck. "I…I think I need to sit down."

"Well, um—Gin is—" Bill was cut off by Percy.

After Percy sat down, he shook his head in disbelief. "Oh, will you please do me a favour and not tell me what Ginny's doing? Or mum and dad or anyone else. I don't want to know," he rubbed his temples, looking like he was having a throbbing headache. He guessed that going from his delusional world of work-work-work to the real world was hard on him. Then he just went white suddenly. "And during this time, what was I doing? Do you have any idea?" he looked like he was just sat there, remembering something horrible. "Oh, I've…" his voice cracked. He looked like he was having a mental breakdown. "What haven't I done? I did everything they've asked me to, and they'd asked me to…" his eyes were bulging with horror.

"Hey, Perce," Bill placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it as tightly as he could. "It's not your fault. The Ministry was corrupt and you—you did what you had to do. You were poisoned by a potion for Merlin's sake. You couldn't think—going on an hour or two of sleep." He could see pure white-hot fear in his eyes. "Not that they have much employees turning up as of late, so I imagine that you shouldn't be flashing your face around. They'd assume you've done a runner and will likely be hunting you too, like they're hunting everyone else."

Percy nodded his head mutely. "But I've put people in danger," his voice dropped. He looked like he didn't want his coffee anymore. "I've…" his voice trailed off. "There are people that have died because of me."

"As far as I'm concerned, you were under an Imperius with that potion," George said very adamantly. "You couldn't make heads or tails out of your own arse! So, Perce, tell me… how were you supposed to be making decisions?" the potion had made him extremely suggestive, to the point where he'd probably fuck the Minister himself if he'd asked.

Percy shook his head. "It's no excuse," he sounded like mum with the way that he said it.

Bill reached out and grabbed Percy's thin hand, squeezing it as tightly as he could. "Hey," his voice was soft and low. Percy's bright blue eyes drunk up Bill's face, from the splatter of freckles on his nose to the jagged-looking scars on his face, angry and pulsating. Fred had barely remembered how Bill looked like before the attack. He didn't care as much as their mum did and Fleur had kissed him, said he was 'andsome (blimey, he wouldn't say handsome. But not bad looking for someone that had been mauled). Meanwhile, George was rubbing his ear, or where his ear had been.

Percy dropped his hand. "I have to write to mum and dad," he finally said, as he grabbed a piece of parchment paper from the table beside him. Well, a piece was an over exaggeration. Fred had seen bigger memos.

"What are you going to say to them?" George wanted him to write them a letter explaining everything. But how was that supposed to work?

"I'm coming back home," Percy finally decided, shaking his head. "I…I have to apologise then, don't I? Because this is ridiculous! Everyone's frightened for their lives and-and mum and dad are sat there hating me for taking a job!" He paused because you could hear it in his voice that he didn't want to apologise. What was he going to apologise for exactly? Being under the influence of a potion? Having their mum tell him off when he'd asked for her help? Slowly dying whilst his mum tucked the Christmas jumper she made him away and his father cursed his very existence? Just thinking about all of that sent Fred's blood boiling. "Which is rather childish of them. But who bloody cares?" he muttered in irritation. "Do they even know where I live? Or…well, where I've lived?"

Fred flinched. No, they didn't. And no, they wouldn't know if he suddenly collapsed, foamed at the mouth, choked and died right there on the spot. "Of course, they do," he lied. "Just…dad's been too stubborn to come is all. But they know you're here. They know you're safe," Fred was getting rather choked up saying all of that.

Percy seemed to relax a little after hearing that. Fred felt like the worst person in the world, lying to him like that.

Fred leaned down to sit beside him and then he wrapped his arms around Percy. If something happened to him, Fred didn't think that he'd ever forgive himself. Seeing him so lucid and aware and normal made him feel sick, thinking about those last few years that he was being tortured. He clung onto him so tightly that he could barely breathe because all he could smell was that his soap and heavy cologne. "But you got to stay that way," Fred ordered. He could feel how limp Percy's hair was, how stiff he got when Fred was just breaking down like a nutter. "You got to stay safe, Perce. Because if…if something happened to you," and his voice broke because he couldn't bear to think about it. "Well, if something happened to you, then I guess I'm going to have to give Ron your wand after he snaps his in half doing something stupid and heroic."

Percy shoved Fred back but there was a lightness in him that he didn't expect. "Oh, sod off," was all he said.

He let his shoulders relax. "Do you think they'll be alright?" Percy suddenly asked, and Fred nodded his head.

"Ron's a stubborn old goat," George said, and Bill scoffed in agreement. "He wouldn't let anything happen to him when we still owe him three Galleons," and Percy smiled, really truly smiled when he'd heard George say that.

"I suppose not," Percy thought with a fervent nod. "Which reminds me… don't you owe me three Galleons?"

The rest of the week went by splendidly. They hooked Percy to the machine for three times a week to help maintain his sanity—well, with the help of Audrey of course.

Audrey, who Percy was flustered around. He kept apologising to her every time she did as much as look at him for longer than three seconds, as if he'd done something horrible and was seeking her forgiveness. Audrey was just as flushed when she came in, with her scarlet robes bunching up at her feet and her hair looking closer to a raven's nest rather than the lush tantalising waterfall that they'd gotten used to every time they'd asked her to come in.

There were a few times when Fred had walked into the room and found Audrey sat at the edge of the bed, laughing. As if Percy knew how to have a good time with anyone beside a brick wall. Percy and she would be talking as the machine pumped his blood in and out, in and out, for hours on end. They'd go quiet once one of the twins or Bill walked in there, as if they didn't want anyone to know what boring book they'd been talking about! It wasn't like Fred cared about the potions tips they were exchanging or the glow they had when they talked about their Hogwarts years!

"Do you think they like each other?" Bill had asked Fred and George at some point.

"Well, they're mates…or well, they used to be, but I guess they're alright now," George just shrugged. Bill rolled his eyes, as if George had missed the plot—and Merlin, did he. Fred snorted. "What?"

Bill sighed. "I meant them liking each other as more than mates." Well, that was obvious.

George rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Might interfere with his infatuation with the Minister I reckon."

"Besides, I can't imagine Percy fancying anything other than his own bed right now," Fred answered. All Percy could talk about was trying to brave a day without having to take a kip—which hadn't happened. Try as he might, he always needed his regular five-hour nap after spending the whole night asleep! "But I bet if you ask Percy, he'd be offended. He'd say that he could be friends with a girl without wanting to shag her."

Bill shrugged. "Fleur thinks she likes him actually." Fred tried to fathom the idea of a girl genuinely liking Percy and wanting to snog him. It was truly a disturbing thought. "I personally don't think Percy even notices Audrey's a girl half the time." Ah, Fred remembered those days. Back when things were simpler, and Angelina couldn't bribe him so easily.

"I think Fleur should stop reading so much Witch Weekly," George commented. Fred would give him that, because there was no way that Bill noticed this on his own. He was denser than pound cake when it came to things like that. He wouldn't be able to tell if Audrey fancied Percy even if she outright shagged him in the middle of the road. "I'm still not convinced that he and Penelope were really going out like she said that they did. Ginny said that she'd seen them snog but…well, can you really trust what she said? It's not like she hadn't gone metal that year with that diary, you know."

Fred nodded his head. "Percy's obviously asexual." Two years from now, he'd split into two halves.

Well, at least Fred thought so until after his third session. Because that was when Percy asked Bill if Audrey could stay in with them in Shell Cottage (the same room as mine if you don't have anywhere else for her to be in, Percy specifically said). Because it was too dangerous for her to be going in and out at all times. Which of course, wasn't an admission of love, but it wasn't exactly causal now, was it? George thought that Fred was off his kilter when he'd said it. George had said that if it were Harry, Ron and Hermione in the same situation, he'd bet that—okay, well, maybe that wasn't such a good comparison, George realised. Of course, little ickle Ronniekins would do anything for Hermione on account of him being absolutely in love with her. But George did mention that not wanting your mate to die was Friend 101.

Sparks didn't fly or anything during the time that Audrey was actually around. She was way too comfortable in Shell Cottage, waking up looking like she'd been attacked by a basilisk in her sleep before she'd had her first cup of coffee. Spending her evenings sat in front of a cauldron and fuming in rage when it wouldn't shimmer. Fred found it very frightening. He supposed there was just something about being a Potion Master that made you a temperamental cow.

Fred felt kind of embarrassed and guilty about the fact that Audrey was the only one working on the antidote these days. He's fine, he thought to himself whenever he saw Percy. He's going to be fine. He didn't want to bring himself to ask Percy about anything with the war looming over. He didn't want to know if Percy still hacked his skin or wanted to die. He didn't want to know what Percy could remember from the last few years. He didn't want to know what he thought of their parents, or why he was moving around so much when he was sleeping. He especially didn't want to know how and why Percy was acting so normal; why he didn't hold a single grain of resentment. Because Fred knew that deep down that Percy was still dying. He had to spend four hours of his day three days a week hooked to a machine to clean his blood out so he could act like a normal person. But it was hard to remember when he was fit enough to make pancakes at three in the morning and spent the afternoon adding more protective wards around the cottage.

When they all left for the Battle at Hogwarts, they didn't expect Percy to be anywhere near it. As far as Fred was concerned, they could easily kill him with a flick of a wand—no N.E.W.T in Defence Against the Dark Arts was going to help him! Percy's judgment was cloudier than a geriatric urine bag.

So, when he just ran straight in, Fred felt a rush of adrenaline as their two worlds collided.

"Percy!" George looked pleased as well. What was wrong with them? They were happy seeing him at the Battle of Hogwarts?

It was just that before they'd left, Percy was starting to get a little mental, so they'd hooked him to the machine again before they left. They didn't expect him to actually be there by any means!

.

His parents stood there, silent and surprised. Percy being sick in the flat and Percy running to them with his wand out, proving that he could hold his own just like the rest of them. Jets of light flying everywhere, and Fred's arteries, pulsating. "Hello, Minister!" Percy sounded jovial almost, like he was in the middle of a game instead of a war. He hit Thicknesse with a jinx that brought him to his knees. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"

Fred was so caught off guard that it took him a few seconds to realise that Percy was joking. Fred was laughing, really laughing. "You actually are joking, Perce!" he couldn't believe it. In a war? But it was just so unbecoming of him. "I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"

Sixteen. Since before his suicide attempt when things were fine.

Fred never got to finish his sentence before he felt a crushing weight smash against his body. The last thing he felt was his head smacking the pavement, as he took in his last breath. He hadn't even had a chance to realise what had happened until a second before it did. He heard the sounds fuzzily of people swarming over him and he thought it was almost like a dream. Then as soon as he took in a breath, his chest stopped moving and he laid there, limp and cold.