i didn't edit the last parts of this as much as the first, but i really just wanted to update since it's been so long. this chapter was actually horrific to write. i've scrapped it no less than 10 times, hence why i just really want to get it out right now.

Stay A Day in My Coffin

Chapter Two: The Fallout

All Percy felt was a darkness surrounding him. He felt so much but also felt nothing at all. His body was so springy and full of energy and yet so heavy and lifeless. The whole world seemed to be so dark, yet he could hear the twittering of birds from his half-open window and feel a gust of cool wind prickling against his cheek. The funeral, he thought, and remembered the other things that happened afterwards, including having a pathetic breakdown in front of his heavily pregnant wife and mindlessly throwing his life in the wrench. An ancient spell book that he just happened to come by in his hour of need! And was it need, or was it really desperation that had him sink so low…?

He waited for the panic that would come with such a reckless decision, but it never did. I suppose that's it then, he surmised. He turned to see his wife sleeping, dark hair splayed all over their pale-yellow pillow. Her brother, Nathan, came into the flat a few hours ago, and Percy could hear her talk about how hesitant she was everything. It's not right, she'd said. At the time, he could hear her through the paper-thin walls. He was in the lavatory, sopping wet and still unclean, filthy. It's not right what I did to him when he's not well.

'Not well.' Percy swirled the word into his mind a few times that night. 'Not well.' He supposed that that was true, but really, who in their right minds was 'well' seventeen hours after burying their brother?

At around two in the morning, he got out of the bedroom when he heard the sound of a knock on the door.

A knock on the door? At this time? He tiredly peered into the peephole and saw a shocking amount of ginger red. Ah; he flung the door open with about as much tact as a drunk hippogriff. George was slumped against the door frame, smelling sour and looking unfocused. So much for a textbook of anti-apparition charms and wards that Audrey had placed onto their home. Percy seemed to be letting anyone in without even pretending to confirm their identity (although he supposed that that wasn't really necessary with the end of the war and all.) Percy's hand was still on the doorknob, his knuckles were bone white. George's eyes met with his, dark hard brown like a chocolate button, sullen and apologetic.

"Hey, Perce," George's voice was barely audible, but Percy could still hear the slight slur in his tone. "Dad said that you lived here and uh…well, I couldn't sleep. And I thought maybe…you couldn't sleep too." Little ickle Georgie was steaming drunk. Percy pursed his lips, trying not to say anything about how he probably shouldn't be at his doorstep, stinking of firewhiskey hours after he'd told Percy that he'd wished that he was dead. It sounded like a vile altercation waiting to happen. "I was just in the pub next door. I just saw the flat and thought…"

George sheepishly smiled at him. His eyes were watering. From the firewhiskey? "Were you sleeping?"

"Um… yes, I was," Percy answered back, still not really inviting George in. "Sleeping that is."

"Sorry," George didn't sound sorry. But then he smiled, and his eyes lit up. "I forgot you were such a light sleeper."

George shuffled his feet awkwardly. His oversized grey trousers were split at the knee, but he didn't seem to be massively bleeding on the floor thankfully. He was wearing a black Montrose Magpie t-shirt with those trousers.

"Uh…Perce?" George rubbed his eyes, which looked pink and puffy. "Can I come in?"

Percy nodded his head and let George stumble into his living room, barely making it to the couch before collapsing. He closed the door, grateful that his wife could sleep through a thunderous Quidditch match. Percy walked over towards the maroon velvet armchair across from the couch and sat on it, his limbs going limp and his form sagging against the chair. He was so tired. His limbs felt so heavy, and he was staring through the world with unfocused lenses, with fuzzy events and feelings that he could barely comprehend beyond the fact that they were unsettling.

"I'm sorry," George's voice broke Percy out of his pseudo-concentration. George, singular. Percy was seeing him for the first time in years. "About what happened this morning. I was being so…"

"Yes?" Percy prompted when George went quiet.

George's lip wobbled. "I was being an arsehole," he finally admitted, blowing off a strand of red hair that fell in between his eyes. There was drool starting to escape his lip. "It's not your fault that Fred died, Perce." Percy froze, feeling his heartbeat faster as he recalled the events of the day. "And I'm really glad that you came back." He inched forward, placing his hands on his knees. "I was angry, and I took it out on you and…well, look, I'm sorry."

Percy said nothing as George rubbed the drool off his lip. "You did a great job with the funeral."

"Thank you," Percy said.

"And with everything else too," George continued. "You were…you came back, saw Fred for the first time in ever, and he… he died in front of you. That's really messed up." He went pale. "Look, Perce… we just put a lot on you, mate. When you weren't in the position to do these things in the first place. You shouldn't have done all those funeral arrangements by yourself. You shouldn't have had me call you out like that."

"I do agree that it was unnecessary," Percy relaxed into his chair. He felt relieved. "But—"

"But nothing, Perce!" George burped, sounding like he had a fizzy drink factory forming into his throat. He even had a little bit of spit-up forming in his mouth again. "Mum was horrified that you asked her if you killed Fred! I… I was horrified!" Percy remembered that he'd left straight after he'd asked that question, not even noticing his mum digest the words that he'd said. Audrey had been fuming for ages afterwards "Ron and Gin even called me out on it. I swear. If you stayed like a couple of minutes more…" he smiled uncertainly. His eyes shone like little gems in the darkness of the room. "You would've known, Perce…I swear."

Percy said nothing.

George's weak smile morphed into a dubious frown. "Perce?"

The collapse after he'd apparated, the spellbook, the spell, the decisions that he'd made a couple of hours ago just came rushing back to him in a sobering way. And he still didn't know if he regretted what he'd done because he was as confused as ever. He was both sickened and validated. Even if George didn't mean to say those things about him, wouldn't he want Fred back anyway? Even if it meant that Percy wouldn't be around for a couple of daysweeksmonths…ever?

"There's something wrong," George suddenly noticed as if he could pick up on Percy's idiosyncrasies. As if he knew every one of them. As if he hadn't been away for years. "There's something really, really wrong."

Percy stayed quiet.

George looked almost ghostly in the light of the room. "Perce, what did you do?" he suddenly asked, as if he knew what he'd done, as if he could see it on his face.

Instead of saying that nothing happened, Percy answered back with a hurried, "I can explain."

"Explain?" George's voice rose. "What is that you want to explain, Percy? Did you…did you do something? Did you take something?" there was a moment before Percy understood what George meant, and his eyes widened.

"No!" he flushed deeply. "No, no, nothing like that. There was…there was a spell."

"A spell," George echoed incredulously. "What for?"

"Well…a spell that would've made it so that Fred and I could swap bodies—err… spirits," that didn't sound as benign as Percy thought it would. What was the correct protocol for one of your siblings giving their life, even momentary, for the sake of a deceased sibling? Happiness? Excitement? Horror? Grief? "And well, I suppose I might've been upset, because well, I used that spell in the context of the things that has happened between us after—well, after that disastrous funeral. To be fair to you, I probably shouldn't be making life-altering decisions in the heat of the moment." He said with the fluidity of someone trying to explain the copious amounts of errors he made in a twelve-inch Potion essay. "A spell I can't particularly undo now that it's been done. But yes, well, it takes effect in one-to-two days and I suppose that Fred will be using my body as a physical vessel. Of some sort. I'm not particularly sure about the details."

George stared at him with eyes so wide they almost popped out of his sockets. He looked almost sober.

"For Merlin's sake, are you mental?" George didn't like he knew what to say. "You're not sure about the details? You? Perfect Prefect Percy? You didn't read something word-for-word before you practically staked your bloody life on it? Because that's what you're talking about here, that you'll…Fred will be in your body, and you'll be…not here?"

"I really wish you'd stop calling me that," Percy was not a prefect anymore. And he certainly wasn't perfect. "And I suppose that's right."

"You suppose," George reiterated in disbelief. "How did you even find this spell? I've never even heard about it."

"Audrey is a Charms professor. She owns various spellbooks. And there are many spells out there that haven't been popularised commercially," Percy answered. "But it's not like your repertoire of spells is vastly extensive to begin with."

"Gee, Perce, you're such a peach," replied George sarcastically. "So, what happened, after the funeral, you just happened to come across a spell you don't know anything about but sort of promises it brings Fred back?".

"Yes. That's what happened."

Percy was stunned at how easily they were talking about Fred. Like he wasn't a person. Like he was just an abstract concept when just this morning, just hearing his name would send both of them into pieces. How strange was that?

George snorted. "Couldn't you have…I don't know… waited before you've done something like this?" he sounded a cross between worried and angry. "I mean it's not the bloody end of the world. If you were going to give your life for-for F-Fred, then why couldn't you just wait and ask us so we can tell you you're being bloody stupid?"

Percy bit down his lower lip so hard it hurt. "Ask you? Who asks about these things?" he echoed. "Are you serious?"

"Okay, maybe, it's just not something you just ask people but Merlin, Perce…" George rubbed his neck. "Is this suicide?"

"No, it's not!" Percy yelled. "And like you're one to say anything about doing or in your case, saying things in the heat of the moment—"

George looked affronted. "I was in a bad space—"

"So was I! What kind of person in a good space decides to…?" Percy's voice trailed off.

"What is it that you did, Perce?" George waved his hands around erratically. "What do you call this?"

What was it that he did? Sacrifice himself? But that sounded so saintly when he was just a coward.

"I don't know," Percy huffed his chest. "All I know is that you decided to come into my flat at the dead end of the night, waking me up from my bed, absolutely stinking of firewhiskey and you're criticising the things that I've done in a moment of desperation? After you've implied that you wished that I'd tried to help Fred? That I didn't try enough in the first place?" He hadn't noticed then, but his hands had curled into fists, grabbing onto handfuls of plush velvet.

"Well, I did," Percy's voice cracked. "I helped Fred."

"Yeah, Perce," George reached out to grab his hand, squeezing it as lightly as possible. "I guess you did," he didn't sound pleased or excited. He sounded scared and unsure. "But…what's going to happen to you?"

"We'll just have to find out," Percy said flatly.

Percy showed George the spellbook, turning to the section on the BEREAVEMENT SPELLS. George flinched when he read that title, saw how gaudy and eye-catching it was. It was hard not to notice, when the title had more glitter than a Love Potion. George spent ages pouring over the spell that Percy had used, as if he could gain loads of information from the couple of paragraphs. He had traced his fingers over the big WARNING! label just beside the spell a few times.

"Didn't you see this, mate?" he'd asked, and Percy didn't answer. The more George read it, the more confused he looked. And the more confused he looked, the more Percy wondered well, what was he supposed to do? "You know, the part where it says that you can't always be brought back? That this might mean that you're…gone forever?"

"Of course, I've seen it. I knew when I've decided to do it," Percy scoffed. "Have you not read the part where the spell cannot be recanted?" he asked acerbically and felt himself relax the second he'd said it. He'd made his point, and George couldn't refute it no matter how hard that he'd tried.

"Percy?" Audrey poked her head into the living room and saw George sitting there. It was still the dead end of the night. She was squinting her eyes, and she had her hair pulled back. "And um…?"

"George," he said lightly. "We should stop meeting like this. You know, you in pyjamas, me being a wreck."

"What else would I be wearing at three in the morning?" Audrey pointed out, pulling her hair down so that she could cover the less racy notes of her nightgown. "And do you have any idea how inappropriate it is that you just decided to apparate to my and Percy's flat at this time?" then she noticed the spellbook in George's hands, and her lips pursed together tightly. "Oh. So… you know about that. The… the spell. Percy told you." Her face morphed into that look of pain that she told Nathan that she regretted what happened, about how she wished she could change it.

"You do too?" George looked at Percy critically, as if it was shocking that his wife, who lived with him, would know about the things that he'd do. "Why didn't you stop him when he was…Merlin, this is mental! How could you know?" Percy and Audrey looked at each other, and whatever happened had made George shudder. "What? You actually planned this? You know, I don't know what this is—the facilitated suicide of my brother?"

"It's not…at least I don't think…" Audrey looked confused now. "And I shouldn't have but…"

"It's not her fault," Percy said automatically. "And I'd like to disagree! It's hardly suicide! And to imply so is just…"

Audrey's eyes widened for a moment. "And do you have any idea what kind of state he was in when we left?" her tone was cold and unforgiving. Every word that she said made Percy flush, that his wife was sticking up for him like he was uncapable of doing it himself. When he should've been able to do it himself, but after Fred had died, everything he had done had felt so scrutinised. "And don't you think that I don't want to take it back? Do you think that I don't regret this myself? Don't you think that—"

"That's enough! It was MY decision," Percy said plainly. "Does it occur to anyone that all this talking and blaming isn't going to do anything to change what has already happened? It took five minutes for me to decide this! It happened in a flash! It wasn't like it was hours of deliberation…" was this really what the next twenty-four-to-forty-eight hours going to be like? Because if it was, then he wished that it could end. All this bickering, back-and-fourths and finger pointing, was already getting old. "And if that's all you want to say to me, then I don't want to listen to it."

The conflict that was arising from the situation was already too much for Percy to contemplate.

They stayed awake for a couple of hours. George spent his time gazing around the room, trying to make sense of Audrey-and-Percy-Percy-and-Audrey. Audrey was pretending to be invested in assignments and papers. Percy just seemed to be daydreaming for ages, on the edge of almost falling asleep but never really sleeping. By the time that it was five in the morning, Audrey gave up and started to make breakfast for them. She made a few boring bowls of porridge for them to eat. Percy didn't feel the least bit normal until after he finished his first cup of tea. Then he poured another one soon after. It tasted bitter.

"What?" Percy said, noticing the way that she stared at him pouring his tea. It wasn't like it was an abnormal thing to do.

"Nothing," she replied, but he could tell that there was something in her tone.

She wanted to say something, and she didn't. George looked like he wanted to say something too, and he swore he could see similar contortions from their faces. As if they were mirrors. But they both hadn't said anything. At least for a while. For a while, all he heard were sips and slurps, the sound of the clock ticking and the spoon clanking against the porcelain bowl.

"I feel like…" Audrey was pursing her lips, looking at him as if she could see right through him. As if she was walking with him as a child, as if she was with him on his first train journey to Hogwarts, as if she'd seen him lying beside Fred's corpse completely stunned at how someone could be alive one second and then gone the next. "I know you don't want to talk about this anymore, but I feel like I have to let you know that I feel like I shouldn't have done that spell. Not because I…I'm afraid I can't get you back. I just don't think that it's the right time."

"I know," he answered without a pause.

"You know?" George reiterated in confusion.

"I've heard when you were talking to Nathan," Percy then glanced at George. "And you've made your point perfectly clear."

"You can't make decisions, Percy. Not when you're like this," she gestured towards him, a crumpled, disinterested man. "You're not in the right state of mind for something like this. You look like you've…you've given up."

"I know," Percy replied quietly, his eyes glossy and vacant. I have, he thought bitterly.

Audrey frowned over her bowl of porridge, which she was mostly playing with. He ate but barely tasted his food, even when he'd put enough sugar in it to send a diabetic into a coma. "I don't think this is just grief, love," he looked up at her and she stared at him with a serious look on her face. "I think you're really not well."

"What does that mean?" George shot a look at Audrey like she was going to give him an answer.

Neither of them did. "It's not," Percy's voice was calm, collected. "I don't think I'm well either."

Audrey looked like she was at a crossroads. "You don't care if I can't bring you back," she stated, and Percy said nothing but her sweeping glances told her everything she needed to know. He could tell. "Do you?" he said nothing to that, and instead returned to his sloppy bowl of porridge oats, pretending like he couldn't hear her.

"That's…" George was really starting to look brought down with how the situation was turning out to be. "Come on, Perce, you're not like that. We both know that you're not really like that."

Audrey didn't break eye contact with him. "I suppose I already know the answer to that."

"You do," came Percy's response, putting his spoon down in front of his mostly finished bowl. "And I suppose that I'd hate to disappoint you, George, but I am very much like 'that'."

"Godric, what about your family? What about your wife?" George suddenly asked. "What about your baby?"

Here they were, caught the gigantic erumpent in the room.

"Audrey is a surrogate," Percy mentioned tactlessly, which he didn't know how to bring up before. "This is the second pregnancy that she is…um…enlisted to help in." He didn't seem to mind this unusual arrangement. "And will you please just stop talking to me about this? I think I've just already explained for the hundredth time that…"

Percy just stopped mid-sentence. It was just so hard to explain things all of a sudden. He'd just rather not.

"That?" George prompted. He had barely eaten his bowl of porridge. He added a mountain of sugar and apples to his before he'd even started to eat it. "Yeah, Perce?"

Percy's shoulders slumped and he let his hands just lie flat against his frame. "Can we stop talking about this? I just don't want to talk about it anymore." And there had to be something in the vulnerability of his statement that made George and Audrey drop the subject. They didn't talk about anything else that morning.

He felt so bad for wanting these past couple of days to go by as quickly as possible, so he didn't have to explain the situation anymore. How could he make such a big choice but be too cowardly to explain or expect the consequences of the actions that he'd done? All he knew was in the moment that he'd made Audrey place the spell on him, he had been so content. He felt like everything was clear, like the clearest of blue skies, like there couldn't be a single thing that could shake his unfathomable belief that this had been the right thing to do. But now, the clouds had started to loom over the baby blues. He was afraid that it would rain when Percy was terrified of getting dirty. He was terrified of the impending storm, and the loud thunder propelling him into the reality of the awaiting disaster.

He went into the Burrow that morning and whilst his parents were asleep, helped clean up the place from the service the day before. George had apparated alongside him, saw what he was doing and pretty much bolted to his room.

By the time that it was noon, his mum had passed by him, still in her vibrant apple-green nightgown. She had a satin printed robe on top with a million different colours that Percy felt physically assaulted just looking at it. Her frizzy hair was sticking out in all directions, her eyelids heavy and droopy. She didn't look like she'd fully cleaned the mascara that she'd used yesterday, because her lashes looked clumpy and heavy. "Percy?" she looked surprised to see him, as if she'd expected that he'd disappear off the edge of the earth or decide to leave the family again considering yesterday's events. "What are you…" she turned to take in the living room, which was spotless. "Did you do this all by yourself?"

Percy nodded his head, dragging his feet awkwardly and feeling like a child in someone else's house.

"George said that you…" Molly's voice trailed off. "That you did something. A spell that would…"

He didn't know how George managed to explain that so eloquently when he didn't seem to understand it. Not the full version anyway. "Yes," Percy's voice sounded hoarse to him, almost as if he hadn't talked in years instead of hours.

Molly inched towards him like she was looking at him for the first time in ages. "Percy, what happened to you?"

"I don't quite know," he replied back. Percy doubted he was the same person that left the Burrow. He had been a different Percy every decade of his life, constantly evolving, never really in a good way. From a shy child to an ambitious teenager to a stubborn young adult to this… cornucopia of emotions that he didn't really understand half the time.

"He said in one to two days, you'll be gone, and Fred would…?" she gestured towards his body. "What does that even mean? How does that happen?"

He wanted to explain that it wasn't like his mum knew the physics of charms that could levitate objects, or how a single green light could end someone's life. Percy didn't know that until he'd met Audrey either, about how there was some particle manipulation with levitation charms, or how the Killing Curse put you into an impromptu cardiac arrest. By the way, of which three people in the whole world have survived. But Percy had no interest in knowing how that spell worked. "I suppose we'll find out," was all that he replied.

His mum was always up so early in his childhood. It was hard to see her waking up in the middle of the day, looking so tired, so uninterested. She looked so detached that she didn't even ask him any questions.

"Mum, are you okay?" Percy asked her all of a sudden.

"I don't know," Molly answered back with a wave of her weary hand. "One of my sons just got buried yesterday and one of my other ones just was involved in this spell that I don't even know where to begin to feel about." Percy shuddered, but he knew that he couldn't blame her. What would you say if you were in her situation? "I don't know what to say, love. I don't know anyone that's in this particular position. Should I be ecstatic? Terrified? I…" she looked so confused, and Percy felt like everyone would be confused too. It sounded like such an out-there concept that even Percy wasn't sure about it. He felt so much but so little, and it seemed like everyone felt the same way too.

"What's going to happen to you?" Molly gestured to him. "How does this…work?"

"I don't know," Percy answered, deciding to omit the more horrifying parts. "I'm sorry, mum."

"Percy," she sounded pained as she said his name. "There's nothing to be sorry about, love. There's…" there were tears starting to well up in her eyes again. He'd never seen his mum like this, so uncertain, in so much pain. She took a deep breath. "You didn't kill Fred, my love," she suddenly mentioned. "You don't have to atone for that! Is this…is this is what this is about …?" suddenly, it was like she'd put two and two together. "Oh, Percival. What have you done?" and it was so strange to see her go from being so dull and uninterested to being so upset and emotional.

Percy pursed his lips together. "It's temporary," well, it might just as well be.

"It's temporary," Molly echoed. "Do you have any idea that I don't want to trade one of you for the other? And nobody feels that way about you. Nobody. Not even George himself." He knew that now he supposed. "Is that what this is about?"

"I don't believe that," he explained. "You can't say that having me and having Fred is like the same thing. I haven't even been in your life in—"

"Oh, Merlin, Percival," Molly looked horror-struck. "Do you have any idea how much we missed you? Even the twins, Ron and Ginny, no matter how many mashed parsnips they flung at you. They missed you… I missed you. Even your father did. Having you away from us during a war! I mean…what did you expect? That we'd be ecstatic about it?" Percy didn't think that she'd be ecstatic per say, but he didn't think that they noticed much.

Molly sighed deeply. "Where did we go so wrong? I…I don't know how this one itty bitty fight turned into this!"

"I don't know," Percy didn't feel like he knew anything as of late. It wasn't one fight stayed at the tip of his tongue, but he didn't say it, because if he did, then they would be talking for hours and hours. And he was worn out, and his mum looked exhausted, so he guessed that he'd just have to accept that he might never say it.

"Percy, you…you're not going to be around, will you?" Molly asked, same as George, with that is this suicide? kind of vibe that George had when he'd asked him. Percy didn't think that it was suicide—not as traditionally known. But maybe it was. "If Fred is using your body, where are you going to be? In Fred's?" she gestured towards the floor, as if to gesture to the fact that Fred was in a hole in the ground, buried and silenced and gone.

"I suppose so," Percy found it strange how easy it was for his mum to say Fred's name like that too. He didn't think that either of them realised that Fred would be back. He didn't think he realised it either, but when he did, he felt both a fluttering in his stomach and a wave of repulsion and fear.

Molly stared at him vacantly. "And how do you reverse this arrangement?"

"You can't always reverse the arrangement," popped out of Percy's mouth before he had a chance to realise the implications behind it. Then he just stuffed his hands into the pocket. "It happens in a couple of days. And the spell can't be recanted either. It's just…fate I suppose. Or luck, whatever it is."

Molly went so white. She said nothing, but she looked a little breathless and her eyes were dilated. Her hands were shaking and Percy bet that if she didn't spend so much time crying yesterday (and last night probably too), she would be crying right now. But she looked so beyond crying.

Arthur, who had joined in a couple of hours later, was much more vocal about situation. He looked at Percy like he needed to be locked up in a padded cell for what he had done. Like it was something only the mentally unhinged did. "Don't you think that we've been through enough?" which made Percy want to hide underneath his bed. "Do you think that we'll be happy to deal with another loss? Is that what you thought?"

Percy said nothing. He watched his family members pour in one by one for their breakfast at two or three in the afternoon, where they most ate cereal out of boxes with slack expressions. When Molly explained what he'd done and George supplemented the rest of the story, Ron and Ginny's expressions had turned from peaky to outraged to confused and Percy just stayed there, wondering what he was supposed to do.

"Did you really have to make it about you, Perce?" was what Ron had asked him just when Percy had been stirring sugar into his tea as they were eating. He had almost dropped his mug. "I mean what is this supposed to be anyway?"

Percy was getting tired of that question. Why did it have to be something? "I don't know," he answered without even thinking about it. He sat down beside his father, who was staring at him like he was a book written entirely in Ancient Runes with Ron's chicken scratch handwriting. "What are you looking at me for?" he suddenly asked very curtly, breaking Arthur out of his concentration. "Is there something about my appearance that amuses you?"

Arthur looked like he'd been slapped in the face. "Err…no, Percy. No."

"Not again, you two," Molly decided to say, with a sigh. "Isn't this situation-whatever it actually is—hard enough without you two bickering on about it?"

"I suppose," Arthur scoffed. "So…does this mean that…" his shoulders dropped, and he looked legitimately frightened. He had his brows creased and his lips were pressed together into a tight line. "This is supposed to be your last couple of days? Correction, your maybe last couple of days?" to which Percy, in relief, nodded his head. "Oh, Merlin, Percival. Taking it quite literally, aren't you? if you had one day to…" his voice was cracking, and he sounded in genuine pain.

"It's okay, dad," Ron looked a little pale. "I'm sorry for what I said, mate… I guess."

"It's alright," Percy answered with a non-dismissive wave.

"Does this mean that we have to tell Bill and Charlie, that they have to come back after they left yesterday?" Ginny suddenly asked. Molly just nodded her head, but Percy didn't feel like seeing anymore of his family members. "Is this…um…a family emergency? Do we even have those?" to which Molly just nodded her head. "Oh."

Ginny looked at Percy like she didn't even recognise him anymore. And he supposed that he didn't recognise himself either. He didn't realise how he could've made such a decision like this. But even with the fallout, he didn't particularly regret it either.

An hour later, they'd all left the kitchen. He and his siblings sat in the living room looking like dolls that had been fixed in positions by a disgruntled Ginny. Everyone was pretending to be busy at something, but there were the flickering eyes, something akin to an unnerving Magenta Comstock portrait. They were glossy and seemed to be waiting for something horrible to happen, the thunder, the storm, the impending catastrophe. And Percy couldn't take it anymore, so he decided to go to room so that he could get away from everyone (whilst deliberating whether or not an escape would be gracious or cruel). And as he did, he paused when he heard the sound of his parents fighting with each other.

"I don't understand the situation either!" Molly yelled after a hmmph. "Yesterday, I buried my son and right now, one of my other sons just decided to—sacrifice himself? Kill himself?" Percy flinched. "I don't even know, Arthur. And I don't think HE does either! So, I don't know what we're supposed to be doing here. Maybe Ginny is right. Maybe this is a 'family emergency.' Although I'm not sure how saying those words would actually help solve it."

"So, what are we going to do?" was all that Arthur asked. "Do you really believe this rubbish about the spell not being able to be recanted?"

She let out an exhale. "I don't know, love," she confessed. "I really can't tell you." Then she said, "I just know that I've never seen anyone recant a Killing Curse before. And I doubt that it's that much different. And…"

A shiver went down his spine. A Killing Curse?

"I don't feel like it's his last possible couple of days living," Arthur said it out loudly, bitterly, and Percy felt the same way. He didn't feel like it was the last couple of days of him living either. So, what was going to happen? Were they going to feel that way when it actually happened? And what would he feel? Was there something behind there besides a great big nothing, like he always thought it would be? And why wasn't he scared? Why was he so numb? "I mean it doesn't even sound right does it. Last possible couple of days of living?"

"But it very well might be," Percy heard his mum say as he turned around to walk downstairs, feeling his heartbeat so hard into his chest. But he could still hear her loud and clear. "Well, so… we might as well make the best of them."

How?