Little Glass Houses

Chapter Twenty-Five

Shelter from the Storm

There was only one person in all of England that Percy didn't want to be serving and he was stood right in front of him in a massive suede jacket and an off-purple fez. He stared at Percy as he fumbled through the cashier, wishing that George hadn't left a few seconds ago to go get a couple of pasties down for them down at the shop. Percy's appetite had disappeared the second the figure walked into the shop, looming over him as he bought a cotton pink Pygmy Puff. When Percy couldn't figure out the cashier, he just handed him the bag without even bothering to take his money. "It's on the house, Mr Minister," he didn't look up at the face of his ex-employer. Oh, what a dignified arsehole you are. Not even greeting the Minister anymore, are we?

Kingsley threw a gaggle of shiny Galleons on top of the cashier without a second word. "Nonsense," he said, and his voice was so stern that it sent chills down Percy's spine.

"I was very glad to hear about your recovery." Kingsley mentioned, as Percy rummaged through his own bag for change.

"Thank you," Percy answered. Well, what else was Kingsley going to say when he saw him? 'Well, when I heard about your recovery, I was appalled. All this time, I've been staying up and wishing you'd go home in a box! Especially after that horrible draft you gave me before your girlfriend tried to do you in!'

Kingsley cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," the apology took Percy by surprise. "For not knowing, of course. I mean…I've always heard what an efficient employee you are. Should've known something was wrong when I've received one that goes to work three times a week." Percy's ears went red. There were loads of people that went for leisurely runs more often than Percy went to work that was for sure. "Especially with the unexplained injuries. The kettle burning your hand, that botched up suturing job, that…well, I'm a daft Auror, aren't I? For not knowing any sooner?"

"Mr Minister, sir, you were tasked in repairing a country after a massive war," Percy reminded him. "I hardly doubt that you should've been paying attention to your assistant's social life when—"

George sped right in, not looking surprised that the Minister was in a joke shop. "Perce, that cheese and onion one you wanted was all out, so I got you a sausage roll instead." He turned to Kingsley. "Oi! Hey there, Kingsley! Looking for some fine Pygmy Puffs, are you? Well, I'm sure Percy helped you pick the best of the bunch…"

Percy wasn't going to help the Minister choose pink fluffy mini Puffskeins thank you very much.

"Yes, he had," Kingsley had a glint in his eye. "Well, if you'd have me again, I wouldn't mind you coming back into the Ministry." Him? Going back to his job after his crap record of showing up? Surely, Kingsley was just being polite. He could find a far better employee. "Believe it or not, even with you coming in three days a week, you were doing more work for me then than the new bloke I've hired instead… and he does overtime!" he sounded exasperated. "And you've said it yourself—I am trying to repair a country. I can't afford any delays."

George shoved Percy to the side playfully. "That sounds great! He'll—"

"Thank you, Mr Minister," Percy didn't know if he ever wanted to go back to the Ministry again. He smiled at him weakly. "I'll… I'll think about it." If his seventh-year self could see him now, he'd be flummoxed.

Kingsley gave a stern nod. "Well, I'll send you an owl," he said and then trotted off.

George looked at Percy as if he couldn't believe that he'd turn down a job offer from the Minister himself. "What are you on?" he'd asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "The Minister of Magic, the only good one we've had in ages, comes in and asks you to work for him, and you say you'll think about it?" Percy's ears just went red. He'd take that cheap sausage roll now. "What? You're having too much fun stacking up Skiving Snackboxes up the top shelf? Because I can do that with a wand, you know. I don't need your giraffe arse doing it for me."

"Err… Ron seems to think otherwise," Percy smiled.

George stared at him agape. "Is that a joke, really now, Percival Ignatius Weasley?"

Percy tucked into his sausage roll. "I suppose," he'd been eating more regularly too, drinking less coffee to survive the day. He'd gone down from a six-cups-before-noon habit to three or four.

He quite liked working in George's shop. It had only been a few days, but he did feel his spirits lift, waking up and knowing that he had something to do that day. He spent every morning picking a shelf for him to examine. He'd memorised the first three shelves by heart now. Their holographic colours, their rose-coloured boxes, the sticky scent of leftover toffee that had stuck and congealed on the back of shelf two. He could see the colours buzz into his mind in his sleep and could map out the display perfectly. He was now up to shelf number five, in this sixty-shelf shop, with its baubles of glitter and brimming glass vases.

The rest of the shift went on pleasantly, but at around the halfway point, George had kicked him out. Apparently, he wasn't allowed to stay there for more than four hours at a time.

But when he'd left, he realised he didn't feel safe enough to go home yet. Home was where the heartache was. He could imagine his mum standing over him with her concerned stares, asking him about how he'd felt, what he wanted to do, what she thought he should be doing. His siblings, if they were there, would be fluttering their eyes at him, as if they were waiting for him to have a massive meltdown.

He thought of paper snowflakes and found himself stood in front of the women's shelter an hour from his departure from the shop.

Audrey ushered him in almost instantly. "Oh, darling, of course you can come in. I've had a bed ready for you just in case you come by." As he walked in, he saw the women look at him for some time, and he felt an uneasiness consume him. There was a battered-looking blonde with a half-burned face, holding her eight-to-ten-month-old toddler. Percy was transfixed as he was led away. Why would anyone hurt her? Then there were women, all ages, from sixteen to sixty, and most of them looked so normal. Like him, he supposed.

Bed? Percy didn't know about staying there. But he didn't want to refuse when she'd gone to all that trouble.

"Thank you," Percy said even before he'd seen the bed. She could've had a cardboard box lined up for him for all he knew, but he still felt a swell of gratitude overtake him. He kept glancing back at the women, wondering if they as unnerved by seeing him as he was of them.

Then this older woman, must have been about at least about sixty-five, walked up to him and placed a hand on him. "I've read about you in the papers." The papers? The thought of anything about him and Penelope being in any paper made him shiver with disgust. Who wanted their marital life sprawled onto paper, in print, in ink, for people to read over their morning coffee? She had a kind-looking face, with almond-shaped green eyes and an upturned nose. "You were in hospital, weren't you?"

Percy nodded his head mutely. "You're welcome here," Audrey sounded confident. He wasn't sure that half these women would agree to that. "Everyone is," she gave them all a look, as if to remind them of that.

Then his eyes met one brown-haired woman, a young one, with dark eyes and even darker lippy.

"Gabrielle? Gabrielle Delacour?" Percy had never exactly had a conversation with Gabrielle, but he could vaguely remember her from years back. She looked the same, with innocent big eyes and nails that had been bitten down stubs. Nails that looked like they'd been manicured before she chewed them out. Gabrielle walked over towards him almost shyly, and Percy could see the strew of women stare at him as if he were going to knock her down and try to throttle her when just the thought left him catatonic.

Percy was the one to step back a little when she'd moved forward. Gabrielle looked surprised.

He remembered Fleur muttering about how Gabrielle hadn't come to see Victoire a few months back. That she was an on exotic trip somewhere in the middle of Bali. He supposed that that hadn't been true. Percy felt for his coat and picked up a recent photograph they'd all taken. His coat of photographs. He had a couple always nestled into his pocket to take out when the weather was just right and when the sky felt warm and welcoming. He needed something to feel, but the sharp corners of the photo made him feel out of place. It didn't feel like the old photo of Penelope he had, the one that was wrinkled with frayed edges. In the new photo, Fleur had been holding Victoire in that photo, who looked so old now. She grew up so quickly. She could say words now and was crawling. Most of the time, she looked at him like she couldn't figure him out—exactly the look that his own family had given him for starters. He gingerly offered it to her, and she precariously accepted the photograph.

Gabrielle's guarded expression faded away, and Percy shuffled far away from her.

It finally hit him—how soft they looked like, how their big eyes seemed to bulge at every move he made, how even at this time of day, they were all dolled up with bewitched make-up pots and satin nightgowns. The smell of women, the appearance of them, and it was enough to make him want to cower underneath his cot. Meanwhile, he stood there looking, quite earnestly, like he was a homeless alcoholic.

"I…I should be off now," Percy decided, intimidated by the looks that he was receiving. He turned to leave, but Audrey reached out to hold him. He let out a sound that was between a gasp and a wail, turning to rub his arm as if to make sure it hadn't fallen off just because she touched him.

"Percy," Audrey squeaked. "You can always send an owl back home to have your things sent."

Percy didn't know what to do. He was never good at saying no, but the idea of staying there left him horror-struck. He didn't think he'd ever be able to make it through the night, but at the same time, a relief washed over him. Nobody looked like they were interested in prying into why he was there in the first place.

"Come on," she'd taken him down to their owlery, which was a claustrophobic's nightmare. She gave him his privacy. She needn't have bothered because he wasn't going to be sending his family sonnets.

At shelter, Percy wrote in such short sentences you'd think someone was charging him by the word. Need things.

He reread the sentence a couple of hundred times and then sent it off with the shelter's brown barn owl, Claudius. He quite missed the look of owls. Penelope had such a horrendous allergy (to his owl only, miraculously) that he had ended up giving Hermes away and he never quite got over it. But what was he supposed to do? Just Floo his way over to an eleven-year-old boy's flat and demand his owl back? (Well, he'd be closer to a third or fourth year now. He'd probably had loads of adventures with him…)

Percy nearly jumped up when a fat teardrop fell out of his eye. He rubbed his eye vigorously.

He left the owlery and then wandered back to the main room. There women seemed to be engaging in a heated discussion with Audrey.

"A bloke!" one of them cried out. They all sounded the same to him, high-pitched with puffs of powder and glitter pouring out of their mouths with every word they said. "What is a bloke doing here? He doesn't even look like—"

"Look like what?" Audrey replied breezily.

He didn't want to stay there. He wanted to leave so badly, but Percy couldn't even risk trying to walk past them. That was when he decided to leave the shelter through the back door.

He walked off, eyes to the ground just in case he'd offend any moving portraits. But when Percy left through that door, he was greeted by the most beautiful backdoor garden. There were yellowed leaf trees that stood so tall that they made him feel small. Crisp apple trees, bushes of raspberry and blackberries, eruptions of sunflowers and fields of lavender. Being there felt like such an intrusion. This looked like someone's private, very cared and tended for garden. Hardly the place that he should be dragging his battered plimsolls through. So, Percy took his chances and apparated to the front of the house, which was a ridiculously short distance for him to even consider apparating to when he had the worst habit of splinching himself.

Beside the shelter, there were a bunch of off-white buildings, a beautifully decorated café, a robe shop that looked like it barely got any customers, and a few tired old benches.

Percy went to sit down on one of the benches, the one that was as far away from the shelter as could be. He cradled his head into his hands. His head felt heavy as he took in the scorching weather, the feel of the wooden bench against his arse, and the slick feel of sweat down his back. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, his ears tingling, his hands becoming sticky.

He sat there for ages, until he couldn't even feel his body anymore. Until he started crying and all the sweat and tears had mixed together into salt and misery, until his lips felt chapped and his body went limp.

When it started to get dark, he stayed and watched the sky. He watched the world draw its black curtain down. A generous lunar night that had greeted him with an astonishing sprinkling of stars. Percy watched a day fade away soundlessly, gone, disappeared right in front of his eyes. Gone, and no Time Turner could bring it back.

He wondered what she did on days like this. He could hardly remember the time or the day. It all seemed to get a little away from him. Percy wasn't even sure how he ended up here.

Then his calm had been disturbed. "Percy?" Audrey's voice permeated the thick, tense air.

He said nothing, but she sat beside him on this old wooden bench. His whole body had gone numb from all the sitting. "You've been out here for hours," he knew that much. "Why don't you come in? I've saved you a plate." He relaxed. He wouldn't have to join anyone over a massive table and attempt to share a conversation with them. "I promise your bed isn't anywhere not nearly as close to everyone else as you think you'll be. Not because—because you shouldn't be…but because I thought it would make you more comfortable."

It would make him more comfortable, being far away from everyone else.

When he opened his mouth to speak, she said, "And don't thank me." He closed his mouth, tight-lipped, as he bowed his head down.

She led him back inside. The farther he was away from the main hall, the more he let his shoulders slouch. She stopped at a lone door at the end of the hallway and opened it.

"There you go," she said quietly. She was about to place her hand on his shoulder but looked like she'd decided against it. There was a trunk in the room, his old Hogwarts' trunk, that was no doubt stuffed with things. "I think your family has a lot of questions." He could just imagine the Floo call and shuddered.

Percy spent the night unpacking his trunk. It was like opening a gigantic Christmas present. It was packed tightly and lovingly with clothes, underpants, blankets, toothbrushes, toothpaste, brushes, a portable kettle (when had they had one of those?), a packet of biscuits, teabags (as if he wouldn't be able to buy any down there) and even tissue boxes. He'd already cut his hair down to almost nothing, so he didn't understand what he was supposed to be doing with a brush? And underneath all of that was about a million pair of socks, including his old Christmas ones that he wore around the house quite often. He took out the blankets and laid them on top of Audrey's perfectly made bed. He'd rather not sleep directly onto her sheets.

Just as he was making his bed, he'd heard a knock at the door.

He expected Audrey to be walking in but was instead greeted by that tiny slip of a thing, Gabrielle Delacour. She was carrying a gigantic mattress that must be three times her size. "Um…" she looked nervous. "Can I stay with you?"

Percy helped drag the mattress inside. His blankets, which had been artfully arranged on top of his bed, was left abandoned.

"You don't…" Gabrielle watched him push the mattress into the tiniest corner at the edge of the room, as far away from the bed as possible. "This is your room. You shouldn't be…"

Another knock on the door. This time, Audrey walked in, holding a tray in her hands. "Oh."

She glanced from Percy to Gabrielle, looking like she wasn't sure what to think of it. They couldn't have possibly had more space between them if they tried. Audrey placed the tray down in front of him. "You didn't…" Percy was embarrassed. How could he let someone else bring him his dinner like he couldn't get up and get it by himself? He knew she said she would, but this was rather ridiculous. "Thank you."

"Percy, your parents are here," Percy turned to look at Gabrielle, who had gone white. "And um, Bill?"

Oh, wonderful. The only one that would be able to pick Gabrielle out of a line-up. Percy stood up with haste and then left the room before anyone could invite themselves in. He couldn't imagine how vile he looked like. He hadn't washed his face. He'd been sitting in the heat all day long. He even felt pale.

"Percy!" Molly looked surprised to see him walk out of the room. "You-you've cut your hair!"

Percy had forgotten about his foray into the hairdressers. Had that been today?

"Looks bloody terrible," Bill didn't hold himself back then, did he? But Percy knew that he didn't look the best. As the hairdresser was clipping away his hair with her levitating scissors, she kept telling him that she couldn't take more off and he kept insisting. If she took of anymore, he'd look revolting, she'd even said.

I know, Percy thought, but said nothing. His hair was terrible. He'd resorted to wearing the same oversized, baggy black robes and the same tattered black top and trousers. And if that was in the wash, an even less stimulating black jacket. He had missed the mornings where Penelope would tell him what he should wear. He looked catastrophic without the direction. He didn't even look at the mirror these days.

"Err…I didn't…" Arthur looked confused. "You've surprised us, you know. By coming here."

Percy nodded his head. He could see it clear as day from his father's point of view. He'd just had a nice, warm moment with his son, and then the next day, he'd disappeared off the face of the earth. By evening time, he'd sent an owl saying he was staying at an abuse shelter. A woman's abuse shelter to boot.

"Yeah, Perce, dad said you didn't want any help," Bill said. "Not that-not that you shouldn't be…"

"You've not been out of the hospital for more than two days!" Molly shook her head in disbelief. "You should really be at home…resting instead of-instead of…well, I don't know what they do here, but I don't think it's for blokes that have just gotten out of intensive care! You've nearly died for one!"

Percy's cheeks flustered. "Mum," he was so embarrassed. He'd be thirty, and his mum would remind him that he'd nearly died that one time. And fortunately for him, she just knew about that one time.

"Mum, there are loads of people here that have probably gotten out of intensive care," Bill muttered to her. "That have nowhere else to go."

"But he does have somewhere to go," Molly retorted. "His own home that's for one—"

"Don't worry about it, Mr Weasley. He'll do great and he's in very safe and capable hands. Bill is right…we do have some women here that have come here straight from the hospital," Audrey suddenly decided to say. Percy didn't realise he'd be doing much of anything, but he supposed that you had to if you wanted to really help yourself then, didn't you? "You can visit any time you like, but I'd like to know a little before. We have a separate room, you know, for family meet-ups…" he found himself relaxing a little bit. Audrey was obviously used to dealing with overbearing family members. "Do you know what? Let me show you!"

The room in question was beautiful. It was painted a creamy white. There was a couple of mugs on the side, a kettle, a mostly-eaten homemade fruit cake, and the most dazzling assortment of flowers. Percy recognised them as from the garden. Then he smelled the tart scent of apple from the cake. From the garden too. Had to be, which made Percy wonder, did Audrey, a psychiatric healer that ran an abuse shelter, also dabble in gardening? He shivered in delight as he realised how pleasantly cosy the room was.

"Sit down," Audrey gestured towards the seats at the table. They all helped themselves to the table.

He thought that Audrey was supposed to be going, but she plonked herself down at one of the seats. It was then that he'd noticed that her hair seemed dewy in the light, and the lippy that she wore this morning still looked freshly applied. He felt intimidated by her. By how feminine she looked like. Percy pushed himself a little farther away so he wouldn't be able to see her features.

"I know I haven't said yet…and I apologise for not saying it before, but…" Audrey's eyes were zeroed in on Percy's face herself. "But I'm really glad that you've gotten out alright."

"Thank you," came the automated reply, muffled and insecure as he stared down at his lap. He'd caught a sight of his hair after the hairdresser was done and it looked like he'd let seven-year-old Ron hack it off for him, but now, he could see it reflecting on the table and it made him want to lock himself in a closet.

Arthur was staring at Percy as if he were an Ancient Runes book that he was trying to figure out.

"Do you need anything else?" he'd asked. "Your mum was thinking we can send you some of the books if you want to be able to read something. George says you like those new comic books, the ones with the flying prancing pony." There was no prancing pony in the comic book that he and George read that was for one. "Or was it the—? Oh, it doesn't matter. He has the whole collection. Thought to send it to you if you want. You know, if you wouldn't be busy doing…" he glanced over at Audrey, "…um…restorative activities."

Restorative activities. Percy had to appreciate his father's new extensive vocabulary.

"I'm alright, thank you," Percy honestly said. They could've sent him three black robes and a single pair of underpants and he'd still be able to manage.

"And we'll send you a few sickles in the post of course," Molly decided to say. Percy paled. There was something wrong about his parents giving a twenty-four-year-old bloke money through the post. A twenty-four-year-old bloke that already had a job offer waiting for him that he still hadn't indulged. "I mean—not that…that you need the money," she most definitely thought he did, "But just…"

"Well, um…" Arthur let out a nervous laugh. "We've come into an inheritance. Yes. One that we've not mentioned before, but it's a…a reasonable sum of money. Not enough to change our financial status but everyone's getting a bit out of it."

"Yes," Bill nodded his head. "Um…lucky me. I can buy—um…with my reasonable inheritance, about three more dragonhide jackets. Oh, and a better cot for Victoire."

You don't have a job and no means to sustain yourself. How are you going to pay for anything? That was what they were getting at.

"It's-it's just a little," his mum only said that, so he didn't feel like a tosser. "You—"

"But…but I'm working with George," Percy dropped that bombshell on his mum without even thinking about it. He could've just collected the money she'd send him in a tin and then sent it back when it was over and feign surprise. Turned out I didn't need to buy anything through my stay in the shelter! Maddening, isn't it? "He's paying me for it. And Kingsley's…Kingsley's offered me my own job back."

Arthur cocked his head to one side. "Oh, he's…" he nodded his head. "Kingsley has—?"

Molly looked like she'd been slapped in the face. "You're what?" he let his shoulders sag. You were dying in intensive care just a couple of hours back I reckon; Percy echoed the thought in head. Because that was what she was going to say. "You've just been out of hospital for one! What are you exactly helping George with exactly? He's already got Ron helping him! How hard can it be to sell joke products? And Ron's supposed to be focusing on his Auror training. I'll have a word with your brother that's for sure." She shook her head. "And working in the Ministry! I remember how your hours were then, thank you very much. You can tell Kingsley right now that he can find someone else for your post. You're not the only smart person in England, no offence to you, my love. I'm sure your skills are irreplaceable but…"

"I think that Percy can decide what is too much for him all by himself," Audrey said a little sharply.

"Of course," Bill nodded his head. "We didn't mean to imply that—"

"By himself," Audrey reiterated.

The whole room went silent. The kind of lovely silence that he liked at the flat, a silence that he could relax into. Percy closed his eyes and let himself revel in the stillness, into the white void, into that lavender field that stretched for miles and miles, like a endless purple sea, bristling with flecks of green.

It was like Molly remembered that he wasn't just out of Hogwarts. "Yes, um…" Molly stammered. "Yes, you're right but…" she put her hand onto the table. "Yes."

"This is a lovely place to stay," Arthur nodded in approval. "Um…very…healing."

"Yes," Bill nodded. "Looks better than our couch that's for sure." He tossed a look over at Molly.

"He doesn't have to stay at the couch," Molly ducked her head. "I didn't tell him to stay there for one."

"It is a lovely place," Percy had found his voice for the first time in ages. "Is-is the garden yours?"

"Oh!" Audrey looked surprised at the mention. "Oh, no, love," she laughed, and it was a lovely laugh, the kind of laugh that put you at ease and made you feel like you were in on the joke. "It's our little house project. My brother, um…he's a gardener, you see. But nobody leaves here without planting something. It's a mini tradition. Of course, he does all the planting…" she paused, as she raised an eyebrow. "Do you like gardening? He wouldn't mind you helping around, of course. There's always something to be done around here."

"No," Percy wasn't a gardener. To be honest, for someone that was enamored by the garden, he had a distaste for anything physical. So, there was another bloke in the house? Percy relaxed even more. Because thus far, living here was starting to sound like an absolute nightmare.

"You know, Geraldine goes off every morning to get an assortment," she gestured towards the beautiful bowl of flowers, bursting with vibrance. "You can go with her."

He'd rather not spend time with anyone around here. But she caught him into a tight spot, so Percy found himself giving in.