I'm getting better at this, it's only a two month gap this time! The fact that that's an improvment is hilariously bad, I'm sorry, but I'm working on it. ;)
Jadely31 - I love that you're still with me. Percy and Oliver are a bit of a mess, but they're both getting a bit of straight talking from people in this chapter - one of them possibly more successfully than the other! Oliver's definitely not going to stick around forever like this though. Hope you enjoy this installment.
A Subtle Change
Chapter 38
Rising late, Severus was distracted enough to make it as far as the Great Hall in blissful ignorance. Then his eyes fell on a vaguely green looking Pansy Parkinson, pale and sullen, isolated as usual at one end of the Slytherin table, and he recalled the events of the previous night and their consequences. He'd put Parkinson in detention. Which effectively meant he was now in detention with her. For a week. He sighed. It was tempting to palm her off on Filch, the caretaker never objected to having students to torture, but if he were to have any hope of rendering her less… Less what? He'd settle for less anything. Less silly, less self-involved, less callous, less downright rude. Dwelling on Pansy's undeniably difficult personality, Severus found himself reconsidering sending her to Filch. As he sat down beside a smiling Professor Flitwick though he wondered if perhaps there was a better option for them both.
"Good morning, Severus, you're later than usual."
"I had a late night."
His colleague poured him a cup of coffee. "You look like you need this."
"Thank you." Severus paused awkwardly. "I wondered if I could ask you a favour."
"Of course, what do you need?"
Severus had never got used to it, to people smiling at him and wanting to help. He wasn't sure he ever would. "I've had to put Ms Parkinson in detention for the forthcoming week. I was wondering if you might be willing to supervise a couple of them." He paused again, collecting his thoughts. "She actually deigned to take tea with you, that's closer than anyone else has got to making headway with her. I suppose I'm hoping she might talk to you, or even better listen to you."
"And you don't think she will talk or listen to you?" Filius asked carefully.
"Pansy thinks I'm to blame for everything, and I don't think my telling her that she is herself to blame for many of her own problems will shake that opinion."
Filius grinned ruefully, "Possibly not. Well I'm quite willing to try, Severus, but no guarantees."
"Guarantees are seldom something I expect."
Filius followed his gaze over to the Slytherin table. It had been the quietest of the four houses lately. "They're young," he said, "They'll grow up, they'll change."
"That is a rather optimistic interpretation you've got there." Severus found himself sneering, even though the other man was simply trying to help. "I see nothing to support it."
"You did." The remark is blunt but far from unfeeling, a gentle reminder that not only does Filius remember Severus' own school days but also those of any number of other students who've sat in this hall. He's arguing from a position of far greater experience than Severus himself.
There's no answer to that and Filius doesn't seem to expect one. They don't speak again but the Charms Master gives him an encouraging smile as they rise for their first classes of the day.
XXXXXXX
The meeting had been dragging on for hours, cyclical arguments getting everyone nowhere. It was like being back in those awful Order meetings from the last few months. Only then Percy had had Oliver sat beside him, holding his hand quite literally by the end. He wondered if that was ever likely to happen again.
He'd slept poorly, not arriving at work as early as usual. If he was running late though he was outdone spectacularly by his boss. Thornfield had turned up ten minutes before they were due in the meeting, biting his head off and demanding coffee.
"Your coffee's here, it's got a keep-warm charm on it." She'd eagerly grabbed the mug and that had been the moment when Percy realised he'd forgotten the anti-spill charm.
A few minutes and much swearing later, she swatted away his attempts to perform a cleaning spell on her. "Never mind that, we're going to be late, I'll do it myself. Where are my meeting papers?"
"Meeting papers?"
"Yes. Papers you take to meetings." Her sarcasm had a cutting edge she normally reserved for people she was decidedly not fond of. He didn't think she'd ever spoken to him quite like that before.
"I didn't realise they'd circulated any." Percy wasn't convinced that they had, but she obviously was not in a mood to be argued with and he'd already made enough of a mess in her eyes that he was clearly going to be taking the blame for everything else. "I'm sorry, I can find..."
"No, we don't have time, it doesn't matter now. It won't have to!" He wondered if she'd decided it didn't matter because she'd realised there were no papers to matter.
She hadn't spoken to him again but her sickeningly sweet gratitude to the young admin, who was handing out tea and coffee on their (slightly late) arrival, felt particularly pointed.
A single finger tapped gently on his hand, breaking in on his thoughts, though clearly trying not to startle him. Thornfield wasn't entirely successful in this, but Percy managed to contain his flinch in a tensing of his shoulders. She'd notice, of course, but hopefully no one else would. They were all busy with...he had no idea what they were busy with, he'd utterly lost the thread of the meeting and that was likely why his boss was trying to get his attention. What a godawful morning!
He straightened his back, tried to tune in to the debate around them, and set quill to paper trying to pick up the thread of his notes. Beside him Thornfield let out an almost inaudible sigh and turned to her own parchment. He saw her quill move across the page before her but no new words appeared, instead they materialised upon his own parchment.
Do you need to leave?
Even his current distress couldn't banish the thought that he really had to get her to teach him how to do that particular clever little bit of magic.
NO, he wrote back. If asked he would have said the capitals were merely for clarity, in truth it was a case of emphasis. He would not, could not, leave, could not allow himself the luxury of being overwhelmed.
XXXXXXX
Sad as she was to be missing lessons, Hermione was excited to be going to Diagon Alley. She and Harry left a jealous Ron straight after breakfast and joined Hagrid in Professor McGonagall's old office (Hermione noted the Transfigurations teacher still hadn't moved all of her things to the Headteacher's office) in order to floo to the Leaky Cauldron.
The cobbled street was quiet, the air crisp but not too chilly - warmer than Scotland certainly! Olivander's was empty, the elderly wizard sorting through some parchment at the counter.
"Good morning, not often I see Hogwarts customers at this time of year!" he greeted them. "Who are we here for, not yourself I assume, Hagrid."
"No, not me," Hagrid consciously moved his pink umbrella out of sight. "These two."
"Good gracious, don't tell me you've both managed to damage or lose your wands?" The little wand seller looked mildly horrified.
Hagrid made an attempt at an explanation but was waved away by Mr Ollivander whose horror had faded in favour of studying the two students. "Well, it's been a while since I saw either of you and it's always interesting to see how witches and wizards change between the their first wand and the second, should they be unfortunate enough to be permanently parted from the first. Now who are we starting with?"
As she still had the pieces of her wand, Hermione went first. "Is there any way you can fix this?"
Mr Ollivander looked sceptically at the two halves she'd laid on the counter and shook his head. "I'm afraid not young lady, sometimes when something's so badly broken it's better to simply start again."
She'd known he was going to say that but still struggled to hide her disappointment. Mr Ollivander though was already pulling boxes down from various shelves.
Wand after wand was...fine. They worked for her but nothing produced that sense of connection she'd had with her own. There was no repeat of that wondrous moment when she'd, rather quickly, identified the right wand for her at eleven years old.
What Hermione hadn't known back then though was that there was nothing Mr Ollivander relished more than a difficult customer. He was handing her wands and snatching them back at lightening speed until he suddenly frowned and tilted his head, considering her.
"I wonder," he pulled down a box from a high shelf near the window. "I wouldn't normally advise such a combination to a student, but why don't we see. Dragon Heart String and Cherry wood."
Somehow she knew even before she'd touched it. It was a highly polished mid-brown, not dissimilar to the colour of her hair, with a darkening toward the simple but elegant handle. The style was old, the handle had an almost art deco inspired edge and she could practically feel it calling to her. She took it, a little cautiously, and instantly felt she'd been right. This was the one.
She noticed Ollivander gave her some space as she went to test it out. It was less instantly compliant than her first wand had been, there was the briefest moment when she began to cast the spell when something told her this wand might require a little more mastery than most. She adjusted herself accordingly and conjured a stream of golden sparks that coalesced into a cascade of butterflies. To be absolutely certain, she directed every last one of them into the box the wand had come from with perfect control.
Mr Ollivander looked on in approval. "Nicely done, young lady. I don't sell many of those. It's a combination that clearly marks out it's owner as one to watch," he gave one of his slightly sinister smiles, "Or one to watch out for."
"Our Hermione's always been one to watch." Hagrid declared proudly.
"And to watch out for!" Harry gave her the most genuinely amused smile she'd seen from him in months and nudged her affectionately.
Thoroughly enamoured with her new wand, she slid it reverently back into it's velvet-lined box and handed over rather more Galleons than she remembered her parents doing for her first one.
Harry's wand appeared much quicker than her own had. Indeed Hermione had hardly had time to get bored of browsing the shelves and people watching through the window, before the room was filled with a pure white light followed almost immediately by an empty wand box flying a tight circle around her head.
Harry looked happier than she could have hoped and she could tell that the wand in his hand was the right one for him.
"I thought so!" Ollivander sounded triumphant. "Rowan is an excellent wand wood. Strongly protective, supremely powerful in defensive spells, and all but impossible to turn to the dark. It gravitates to the pure-hearted, and it's strength gives lie to the idea that it is easier for us to triumph by immoral or dubious means. A good wand for duelling in the right hands, and an excellent advert for your character. Most unusual though to see Phoenix feather once again, Mr Potter, most unusual. Perhaps the wand can sense you are at a time of rebirth."
Harry didn't comment but handed over the Galleons for his wand, looking not displeased with it.
Ollivander carried on talking, "Two nicely unusual clients, very satisfying. With everything that's happened recently I've had a quite the up-tick in trade, but this has certainly been the most gratifying of sales."
Back in the quiet street, Hagrid steered them towards the Leaky Cauldron. "Tom's booked us a parlour and laid on some lunch. Could maybe even follow up with an ice cream at Fortescue's after. No need to rush back to yeh classes, eh?" Hagrid winked.
Hermione was torn between disappointment at missing what was likely to become a full day of school, and an unmistakable urge to linger in Diagon Alley just a little longer. She'd loved the little street from the first moment she'd seen it, with it's cobbles underfoot and many overhanging upper stories overhead.
Harry too looked keen to bunk off for a while. He looked in fact more comfortable than he had since his return to Hogwarts. Even the occasional stares from the few passers-by didn't seem to phase him the way the stares of his fellow students had.
Hermione shook her head in mock-disapproval. "Well, I suppose we could spare a little time."
Harry grinned and nudged her again. "Shame Ron's not here too, eh?"
She felt herself colour at the odd look on his face and chose not to reply.
XXXXXXX
The meeting had lasted only another half hour or so after Thornfield's invitation to leave, but it felt interminable and part of Percy was cursing the fact he wouldn't simply accept her invitation and escape. His head hurt and he never had managed to pick up the thread of the meeting again. In the end he was lucky that Thornfield was distracted speaking to someone after the meeting ended, allowing him to slip away. He didn't need to hear how he'd let her down, wasn't doing his job properly. Or worse, hear her express concern that maybe it was all just too much for him.
He made it back to his office, relieved to put a closed door between him and world. He supposed he should have realised that closed doors didn't mean that much to his boss when she was on a mission.
He ignored the knock but recognised it for hers and knew she'd come in anyway if he didn't answer. His desperate attempt to calm himself only seemed to make it worse, the room felt hot and close like there wasn't enough air.
The door opened and closed quietly behind his boss.
"Percy," she approached him carefully, like she might a frightened animal, "Are you quite alright..."
"I'm fine, I'm perfectly fine," he choked out.
He didn't think Druscilla Thornfield had ever looked less convinced. She grasped his wrist in a gesture half comforting, half restraining, and, as it turned out, half something else. "Your pulse is racing!" She'd pressed her fingers against the fragile skin of his inner wrist. Which meant she was probably also aware of how revoltingly clammy he felt right now.
He tried to take his wrist away from her but she was surprisingly strong. A small disconnected voice in his head suggested to him maybe it was only surprising to him because she was a woman, in reality the fact that a rather active person should be physically stronger than him (particularly in a moment where he was reasonably worried his legs might be about to give way) wasn't actually in the least bit surprising.
"Percy, breathe!"
He was pretty sure he was breathing, probably rather too much if anything, that feeling like he wasn't getting enough oxygen was unlikely to be real.
"I mean breathe more slowly, just focus on that, try and match my breathing." It was like she could read his mind. That was a worry. With her was Legilimency really out of the question? Was anything?
"Percy!" Her scolding tone brought his attention back to her worried face. He tried to do as she'd asked, it was ingrained, follow orders, do as you're told. Rebellion had always come hard to him. Landed him in a whole lot more trouble than it ever seemed to have done his siblings as well.
Long moments passed as he tried to match his breathing to hers. It was strangely intimate, should have been deeply uncomfortable but she had a way about her of overcoming things like that. In truth, uncomfortable as physical contact often made him, he was sorry when she eventually let go.
"I'm sorry..."
"Oh, hush," her scolding was gentle this time, her voice soft. She took a long look at his face until he looked away in embarrassment at her close examination. "Ok, Weasley, come on!" She grabbed him by the arms and steered him out of the door and down the hallway to the lift.
"Where are we going?" Percy stumbled a little trying to get his limbs to cooperate quickly enough, grateful for how quiet the Ministry seemed, but found her firm grip kept him upright with ease.
"Out. Walk in the park maybe."
Percy suddenly realised he might well be faced with a person whose response to someone not coping was in fact to prescribe fresh air and exercise.
The park she Apparated them to was frosty and freezing cold, he was shaking before they'd gone more than a few steps. Her arm tightened around him and a wave of warmth hit him so suddenly he gasped.
"Sorry, got a bit carried away there, not cast that wandlessly in a long time, but..." she gestured vaguely at some Muggles a few yards away.
He nodded, warmth flowing into his bones. "It's fine."
She didn't let go of him. "Has this happened before?"
He couldn't meet her eyes and the lie died on his lips, she wasn't likely to believe him anyway.
She sighed, "Right I'm going to take that as a 'yes it has' but you don't want to tell me." She stroked his arm reassuringly, the motion similar to the way he could just about remember his mum comforting him when he was small. "It's alright," she murmured softly. "We all have our moments. Back when I started I remember someone once telling me you weren't a proper Ministry worker until you'd gone and hidden in the toilets for a good cry."
"Well I've never done that."
"Good god, you've not lived!"
His laugh was as feeble as the joke, but it seemed to please her.
XXXXXXX
Druscilla had arrived at work late and annoyed. She wasn't sure who she was angry with exactly, Remus or herself, she just knew she was angry. She'd snapped at Percy without thinking and not been at her most helpful in the morning's meeting, arguing with an idea she'd previously approved, leaving them scrambling to persuade her afresh and talking themselves in circles.
It had been while people had been busy arguing amongst themselves that she'd realised something was seriously amiss with Percy. He was pale and twitchy and, most damningly of all for him, not taking any notes. Afterwards he'd all but run from her whilst she was held up by a need to be polite to people whose lives she'd just made difficult for no better reason than that she'd got out on the wrong side of the bed.
As soon as was reasonable though she'd hastened to Percy's office to find him in something of a state. She'd seen enough panicked youngsters in her time, and having got him outside and able to laugh at a poor joke seemed like decent progress. She steered him over to a large pond, watching some ducks bobbing about. They didn't seem to mind the cold.
As they came to a halt on the bank, Percy muttered, "You can't be here dealing with me. You have a Ministry to conquer."
His choice of words amused her. "Yes I do and yet here I am. Doesn't that tell you something?"
"That I'm not the asset to your team you once hoped I'd be?"
There was such a thing as carrying self-effacing too far in her mind. "That I care about your well-being, you daft twit!" She sighed, "What is going on lately?"
"Nothing, I really am fine."
She knew she should have held back the snort but couldn't help herself. "Fine doesn't look like that!"
"I told you, I'm not sleeping well. That's all. That has happened before when I've been burning the candle at both ends, that's all it is. I just need a good nights sleep."
Wonderful she'd handed him a euphemism for his panic attack, well done Dru! She softened her voice, "Percy..."
"I'm fine!" And that, she knew, was all she was going to get. They could walk around this park until her spell wore off and they both froze to death and he wasn't going to admit anything was wrong beyond a lack of sleep. She could at least believe that he really wasn't sleeping well. The blue circles under his eyes had become worryingly pronounced over the past week.
"Why don't we go back to the office, we could grab some sandwiches and have lunch when we get back," she suggested.
"You don't have time."
"Now, stop that, I want to help."
"No, you really don't have time. You have another meeting in," he checked his watch, "Half an hour."
He was right. As usual. For a moment she was tempted to say the meeting could go hang and try and get something further out of him, but what would be the use? When Percy didn't want to talk he wasn't going to.
XXXXXXX
Pansy wouldn't have sworn to who had caused the collision. She would of course claim it was not her fault, but she honestly didn't know. She'd been making her way quietly to her Charms class when some Muggle-born fifth-years, who apparently weren't paying any more attention to where they were going than she was, had walked smack into her. Her bag dropped to the floor, along with their books.
"Look where you're going, Parkinson!"
Pansy was in no mood to be snapped at. She was tired, her head ached, and what lunch she'd managed to eat had made a hasty reappearance. She had a weeks worth of detentions to deal with and, according to her head of house, no one who was willing to defend her. It wasn't as though she thought he was wrong about that, she just hadn't expected him to say it. Professor Snape was good at being disappointing though, she should by now have learned that. Now she was being pushed around by a pair of Muggle-borns.
"Disgusting Mudbloods, ignorant Muggle-lovers," the words that came so easily to her tongue were halted in their progress by her firmly pressed lips. She snatched up her bag and stared at the two Muggleborns, who were sharing a 'well, she seems crazy' glance. For the first time in her life these people frightened her. For the first time her own words frightened her. Provoke the wrong people and there was no one to help her. She was under no illusions regarding her own magical prowess. She was only an average student and the subjects she did better in tended to be of a more theoretical bent. Pansy reckoned she could point to a better average Astronomy grade than most of her peers could, but she was willing to concede that that wasn't likely to be a lot of use in a tight corner.
For a brief spell after her parents' incarceration she'd felt almost powerful in having nothing left to lose. What more could they do to her now? It was beginning to sink in that there was likely quite a lot left they could do to her, most of it deeply unpleasant.
Pansy did the only reasonable thing, she turned on her heel and ran.
It felt good, freeing in a way that little else did. It wasn't though, running was only helpful if there was somewhere to run to, otherwise you were just a rat in maze, going nowhere and wearing yourself out. She rounded a corner and, finding herself in an empty corridor, leaned heavily against the wall, breathing harder than the short run could explain.
She'd spent her entire life feeling like if the world weren't quite hers then certainly it was supposed to be, that steps were being taken to make it so. The world didn't feel like it was ever likely to be hers now.
XXXXXXX
A cup of Earl Grey was pushed into Percy's eyeline, the aroma soothing and pleasant.
"Oh," he looked up to see his boss stood over him with a soft look in her eyes. He'd not even heard her come in. It must have been later than he'd thought if her meeting was finished. "Thank you."
"You've done it for me enough times." She summoned over the comfiest chair in the room and sat opposite him, the desk between them. He wondered if she knew that would make him feel more comfortable right now.
"How are you doing?"
"I'm fine," he replied calmly.
She gave him a sceptical look and he felt compelled to add, "I'm sorry I wasn't exactly at my best in the meeting this morning."
"Percy, that's not a problem. I'm concerned about you, not your work. I'm sorry I snapped this morning, I was upset and I took it out on you." She was quiet while he sipped his tea, seemingly considering how to say something. "Look, maybe you should think about some leave."
She'd offered leave repeatedly of late, perhaps it was time to take it. "A day off would be nice, maybe even a long weekend," he conceded.
"I was thinking more along the lines of a few weeks."
"A few weeks?"
"Or however long you need." His boss' expression was carefully neutral.
Percy stiffened. "I've heard that before. For my own good is it?" It was Fudge all over again. For a moment he was back in that hospital room at St Mungos with that awful civil servant Fudge had sent to do his dirty work, trying to persuade Percy that it would be best for all involved if he disappeared for a while.
The neutrality fell apart and he found himself being snapped at. "Frankly, yes, Percy! I am not Fudge and your job will be waiting for you whenever you want it, but I can see how badly affected you are by all this even if you can't see it yourself."
He shook his head in frustration. "I'm fine and I'm not going anywhere."
"Percy..."
"You're rebuilding our world and I want the opportunity to be involved in that. I think I've earned that."
"I can't fault you there. I just don't want to end up having to rebuild you." She was swaying in her commitment to the argument. He had a feeling that she didn't really like the idea of trying to run the office without him for a lengthy period during her campaign, she was just worrying because he'd been ever so slightly off his game. Needlessly. "Have you spoken with the counselling service we were recommended?" She'd asked that question a few too many times lately in his opinion.
"I don't really think I need to do that."
"You're dealing with a lot at the moment and I think you need to actually deal with it rather than letting things build up until you have another one of your little moments where you walk out on your family, or quit the ministry."
"Druscilla!"
She gave a fond, surprised smile. "I do believe that's the first time you've ever called me Druscilla."
It was. She'd asked him to on the odd occasion but it had never struck him as appropriate. It wasn't appropriate now, but, "It might be the first time I've ever found you quite this frustrating!" Her words, so close to Oliver's in that awful argument, cut deeper than she seemed to realise.
"Oh I doubt that." She grinned playfully. "Have you told your family about your new relationship yet?"
"No." He no longer knew if there was a relationship to tell them about.
"See? Issues! You, Percival Weasley, have them coming out your ears."
Her attempt at levity was more provoking than any of her actual words had been. "Do not involve yourself in my private life."
Her expression turned stern. "Talk to the counsellor, work through your crap," she held up a hand to silence him as he began to protest once more, "Listen to me. You want to go places in this Ministry, hell you want to go places full stop. Take a little advice, your issues can only weigh you down. That self-doubt you have, it will eat at you. Especially in politics."
"I'm fine."
She looked visibly frustrated with him. "You know if you could just stop pretending things were alright and be honest for a change, you'd probably feel an awful lot better than you clearly do right now."
"I'm..."
She let out a noise of pure annoyance. "Say the word 'fine' one more time and I'll bloody well curse you! Just think about what I've said, and for Merlin's sake go home!"
She stalked out and Percy sank back in his chair. It felt like whatever he did it was never good enough for anyone these days. It not incline him to take her advice and go home, he wasn't keen to go looking for more people to disappoint.
XXXXXXX
Pansy hid in her dorm all afternoon, emerging only to move bits of her dinner about her plate. Her thoughts were consumed with stupid Mudbloods, worthless boyfriends, useless parents, and hate so deep she couldn't see the bottom of it, couldn't see an end to it. She didn't know if she even wanted an end to it. It felt like the only strong part of her left, like it were only her own malice that was getting her through the day. Hating the people around her too much to let them win felt like the only reason not to just give up.
The cherry on top of the pile of excrement came in the form of an owl from Professor Snape, who had quite possibly given up trying to get near enough to Pansy to speak to her in person, reminding her she had a week of detentions to begin that evening. The only small bright spot was Snape was not apparently taking the night's detention himself. She was to report to Professor Flitwick in his classroom at 7 o'clock.
Maybe she should have felt worse about the fact that even her head of house couldn't stand to be near her, but in reality she was no keener to be around him. Flitwick was an improvement and at least she hadn't been sent to Filch.
For the first time in her life she arrived on time for detention, funny how much more obedient you feel a need to be when you've no one to help you escape the consequences of not being.
Little Professor Flitwick gave her a smile. "Hello Miss Parkinson. Thank you for being so prompt. We'll try and keep this as quick and painless as possible shall we."
Eugh, he looked absolutely serious about it, as though detention was something to get chummy about. Pansy nodded silently in response, not trusting herself to answer politely enough to avoid more detentions.
Flitwick seemed undisturbed by her silence and set her to tidying the classroom, which looked like it had been the battleground for a water balloon fight. There were water stains and damp bits of parchment everywhere. God knows what her classmates had been doing, she wasn't sorry she'd missed it though.
Flitwick didn't ask what she'd done, why she was in detention. Maybe Snape had told him. Maybe he didn't care. He returned to his desk and climbed back up the little set of steps to his chair, a pile of marking in front of him. "Your classmates left quite a mess, I'm afraid. We were practising the Aguamenti charm."
That explained the water everywhere then.
"We missed you in class this afternoon," he continued mildly. "I hope you weren't unwell? You look awfully pale today."
Flitwick's remarks confirmed it for Pansy, he didn't know why she was in detention. If he knew why she was likely to be pale and sick looking he'd surely just have come out and said it.
"I doubt anyone missed me." Pansy decided to play for time to come up with a story that might help her avoid further trouble.
"I did. I was concerned." He sounded disturbingly sincere.
Maybe though it was his sincerity that inclined her to be at least a little honest. "I threw up at lunch." It was wonderful, she thought sarcastically, when life had got so bad you didn't even have to lie any more about these things. "I went for a lie down."
The Charms Master looked concerned. "I hope you're feeling better now. Did you eat any dinner?"
Pansy thought quickly; she might be able to get out of the detention if she tried hard enough, but Snape would find out and then she'd just have to do it another time. "I'm ok, thank you."
Flitwick didn't look convinced but he didn't argue with her. He was gratifyingly quiet through much of the rest of the evening. She finished clearing up the room within an hour and he glanced at the clock, looked at her critically, and then gave her a little smile. "Go on, you can go. It's a Friday night and you're only at the start of these detentions if I understood Severus correctly. Take a reprieve while it's on offer and get some rest, you really look like you need it."
It was his constant kindness that rankled most. She could cope with shouting, threats, dirty looks, the things she was used to. The walls she hid behind, that withstood those things so well, felt paper thin under the assault of genuine concern. There was even something she didn't really understand at the back of her head, whispering that it was all the worse coming from someone she'd often termed a halfbreed.
She hardened, of course it felt worse from someone like that, no one could want to be an object of pity to those who were so clearly beneath them.
As the little teacher hopped down from his chair to hold the door for her though, never once commenting on her sullen expression and continued muteness, the words in her head rang a little more hollow than usual.
XXXXXXX
If there was one thing worse than hosting a party when you secretly just wanted to curl up in bed and forget the world existed, Oliver thought, it was having someone remind you of just why you wanted to forget the world existed.
"Ol, these're gorgeous!" Katie Bell, slightly tipsy and looking happier than he'd seen her in months, exclaimed over the sunflowers. "Who's been buying you flowers?"
"Oh, erm, my mum sent them," Oliver lied quickly. Even angry with Percy he still wasn't about to tell people something the man clearly considered deeply private. "She can't stop fussing since...well..." The reference to his battle with the forces of You-Know-Who (slowly, via the Prophet and the Witch Weekly rumour mill, becoming common knowledge), was calculated to derail that conversation, but one person at least wasn't buying it. Across the room Adam raised an eyebrow and shook his head with an amused roll of his eyes.
Oliver didn't smile back, nothing about the situation felt good. He wasn't a man prone to misdirection and manipulation, he preferred a more straightforward route, lying left a bad taste in his mouth. "I'm going to grab some more food to put out."
"We ordered pizza, it should be here in half an hour," someone shouted over the music, that he hoped wasn't escaping the silencing charms to annoy the neighbours. "Actually yeah, that's ages off! Are there more crisps?"
Oliver made his way into the relative quiet of the kitchen and began searching for more snacks, only to realise that his fellow Quidditch players had already swept through his cupboards like a pack of locusts in the last hour or two.
A voice behind him alerted him to the fact that Adam had followed him out of the lounge. "So I take it the flowers are from the mystery man?"
"Yes." Oliver was desperately hoping to let the subject drop, he didn't need quizzing about why he was lying to his friends and how exactly things with his 'mystery man' were going.
Adam though settled for a diplomatic, "They're nice."
At that, suddenly, Oliver could feel his control slipping away, probably aided by alcohol. "Oh God, it's a complete mess!"
"I got that impression, you're not very good at pretending to be happy when you're not." Adam moved over to the kettle, opened cupboards until he found the teabags, and started brewing up. "Why don't you sit down and tell me about it." He gestured back to the living room with a grin as a peal of shrieking laughter burst out at the sound of something hitting the floor, "I don't think anyone's going to miss us for a while."
Oliver, long inured to the perils of inviting Quidditch players to party in his house, couldn't help but laugh at the sound of his friends' antics. "No I don't think they will."
Oliver found himself pouring everything out before Adam had even finished boiling the kettle. The other man listened quietly, interrupting only to push a cup of tea into Oliver's hands.
Everything, short of Percy's name, came out this time. The fact they'd been at school together, that he'd known Percy for years, that he'd been on the school team with his brothers. The fact Percy worked for the Ministry, and every stupid fight and awkward moment they'd shared in the last few months. By the time he'd reached the end of the argument where he'd accused Percy of running away, he was reasonably sure that Adam probably had enough information to figure out who Percy was should he feel inclined to play detective.
Looking up from his tea though Oliver could see Adam didn't look inclined to play detective, he looked completely unimpressed.
"You don't look very sympathetic..." Oliver moaned.
Adam laughed and shook his head despairingly. "You don't need sympathy, you need a kick up the arse. What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"Honestly?! It sounds like you've been pushy and passive aggressive. You can't tell someone you're going to give them space to sort themselves out then keep pushing for an answer. Why would you expect that to end in anything but tears?"
"I wasn't..." Oliver protested.
Adam interrupted him. "You said you told him it was his decision, his life. You can't do that and then keep pressing someone because you don't like their decision, or their reasons for making it."
Oliver groaned, "I was a bit passive aggressive, wasn't I?"
"Well I've only got your account of it to go on but that's certainly what it sounds like." Adam sighed, "Look, what you're doing isn't fair to him or you. If you say you're willing to wait and see how this plays out then you have to actually be willing to wait! If you're not willing to wait that's understandable, but in that case you have to be honest with him. And with yourself." He shrugged, "I mean this guy sounds ridiculously defensive, I'm not convinced he's been any better than you have, but it does sound a little like you went for the jugular attacking his relationship with his family. I know you say you know these people, and I kind of assume you like them, but it sounds like he might have some genuine concerns there. Have you ever thought about that?"
"Not really." Oliver still couldn't find it in him to believe Percy had anything to worry about from coming out to his family.
"Well either way, you need to have an honest conversation. Stop pretending you're ok with things that you're not, and think through what exactly you would be ok with because this doesn't sound like a scenario where you're going to get everything you want. Face it, he's not ready to tell people and you don't know when he will be, or what it's going to take for him to feel that way. If you care about him, you're going to need to think things through carefully."
"I think I love him," Oliver mumbled into his tea.
Adam looked amused. "Have you told him that?"
"No. It's never felt like the time, and I didn't want to manipulate him into anything."
"That was astoundingly mature of you," Adam grinned.
"Thanks!"
Adam still looked unsympathetic. "Talk to him. Try being honest with each other. If he continues to act like an arse, or if the two of you just can't come to some understanding, then get out of there. But you're not getting any sympathy from me until you try. It's not enough to want these things to work, you have to cooperate and figure out a way to make them work." He grimaced, "Or sometimes, you just have to admit they don't."
"I'm not ready to give up," Oliver said quietly.
"Then, talk to him!" Adam insisted.
Oliver sighed, "Yeah, you're probably right."
"Oh, I'm definitely right. Also," Adam cocked his head towards the door back to the lounge, "I'm pretty sure the pizza arrived ten minutes ago and we'll be lucky if there's anything left that's not got pineapple on it. Come on!" He hauled Oliver to his feet. "You certainly can't talk to him tonight, so you might as well try and enjoy yourself."
XXXXXXX
If Oliver had only known it, Percy was still sat in his office dwelling on very similar thoughts about the state of their relationship, and on whether they still even had one. He'd missed dinner, again, sending an owl home to say he would be working late and would eat at the office. Thornfield hadn't come back since their earlier fight, she might actually have followed her own advice and gone home.
A glance at the clock told Percy it was long past time he did the same. As he passed her office though he saw a light still burning under the door. He was struck by a sudden urge to knock, to see if she was ok, to maybe even consider telling her that he wasn't. He shook his head and walked firmly towards the lift. That way lay utter madness.
XXXXXXX
From the moment Percy walked through the front door Charlie could feel things weren't going to go well. His brother had snuck in late again; or attempted to sneak, he wasn't very good at it. The twins had subsequently accosted him before he could escape up to his room.
"He returns!" Fred exclaimed gleefully.
George leaned in and sniffed at Percy's robes, "No perfume." He turned to Fred. "Maybe tonight really was work."
"What are you doing?" Percy shied away crossly as Fred tried to examine his collar.
"No lipstick either, must have been work," Fred agreed, "Such a shame." Turning to Percy, who was already scowling bad-temperedly, he said, "Well, you're not very forthcoming, dear brother, so we have to puzzle these things out for ourselves."
"Puzzle what out?" Percy snapped.
"Who she is!" The twins chorused.
"I don't know what you mean." Percy's tone had gone tight and sniffy and Charlie could scent danger.
Fred and George though never had known when to stop. "You've been going out in your best robes of an evening pretty regularly lately," George reasoned. "So, who is she?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Percy huffed.
"Come on Perce, you can tell us." Fred wheedled, "Who is the poor girl?"
"There is no girl!" Even Fred and George looked taken aback at Percy's furious shout.
Charlie knew he should have intervened before it got this far. Too late now. He heard his father's footsteps on the stairs.
A cross looking Arthur Weasley appeared round the bend of the stairway. "What on earth are you all shouting about?! You've woken your mother." They'd probably woken him too, Charlie thought, going by how tired he looked.
"Sorry, Dad." George found his voice first, but both of the twins looked remoseful at the idea they'd disturbed their mum.
Percy's expression however would be difficult to describe as remorseful. "Hardly the first time the twins have done something to wake the whole household."
Percy's snide remark was both unexpected and unnecessary. Charlie couldn't really blame Fred for retorting: "You were the one who started shouting!"
"Enough!" Their father rarely looked this angry and Charlie was pretty sure he and Percy hadn't been this close to a fight, albeit not precisely with each other, since the day Percy walked out. By the look on his dad's face, that had struck him too. Arthur was determinedly not looking at Percy. "Go to bed, all of you, and keep the noise down!"
Charlie couldn't remember the last time their dad had caught any of them fighting and didn't try to get to the bottom of it. He'd been more careful with Percy these days though and Charlie had no idea if that was helping or not. Percy seemed to be unravelling lately and, for all the twins didn't seem to realise it, he doubted it'd escaped their dad's notice. Arthur Weasley though clearly had no intention of risking another fight with his sensitive son.
When Charlie went to follow Percy to his room, having glared at the twins until they buggered off, the door was closed firmly in his face.
XXXXXXX
Late nights with Minerva over tea, or sometimes something altogether stronger, had become a welcome new normal for Severus. Though they been close for some years now, the loss of Albus, and his own freedom from his double life as a Death Eater, had left them each more than ever grateful for each others' company. It helped that neither was foolish enough to believe they knew what the other was going through,
Tonight they'd sat late in the staff room, joined by Hagrid who was keen to regale them with every detail of his trip to Diagon Alley with Potter and Granger.
Severus had ignored many of the details, just grateful they'd all made it back in one piece, without any fuss. Surely a first for any trip involving Potter. He managed to avoid saying so though and Hagrid left in the best mood he'd seen him since Albus' death, which subsequently pleased Minerva and Severus was forced to concede that occasionally biting his tongue might make his life a little easier.
Once Hagrid was gone however, and he was left alone with Minerva, wandering back in the direction of both Minerva's rooms and his dungeons, he growled out, "What a bloody week!"
"At least it's over," she sighed, then swore unexpectedly. "I need to check my office, I'd forgotten the house elves said they'd leave a delivery in there for me. Goodness knows what it is!"
Severus raised an eyebrow and asked in an innocent tone, that had never yet failed to annoy his friend. "Which office?"
"Mine." Minerva was uncharacteristically trying to avoid having that particular conversation. "The one I've always had."
"The one you are supposed to have moved out of." Severus clarified. "You should pick an office and stick to it. You're flitting back and forth for no good reason."
"Excuse me?"
It was a tone that once might have intimidated him, but not now. "I think you're making the transition more painful then it needs to be, having one foot in your old office and one in..." he still had to stop himself referring to it as Albus' office, in fairness she wasn't the only one struggling to make the transition, "...your new one. It is your office now."
"Yes, thank you, Severus." It was clear she was not in fact at all grateful for his input. "I do still have a house to run and it's easier for my students to find me there than in the tower office."
"Hmmm."
"What?!" she demanded.
Severus shrugged, trying to keep things light. "I just never thought I'd see the day when I had a higher opinion of your Gryffindors' intelligence than you did. Perhaps you're right though, best not to risk confusing the simple minded."
"Severus!" Minerva would undoubtedly have chastised him further but, as they reached her office and she opened the door, they were both brought up short by the large box on the desk.
"What is that?" Severus asked.
The box was very large, orange with a magenta bow, and it looked to be shedding glitter. Minerva approached it warily and read from the attached parchment, "A donation from Messrs Weasley of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, 93 Diagon Alley, in hope of spreading a little fun." She visibly steeled herself and gingerly levered the lid off the box as Severus got it well covered with his wand, just in case. "If this is more skiving snackboxes..." She pushed aside the layer of straw packing and smiled, "Well, that's certainly better than it might have been."
"What is it?" Severus didn't drop his wand, even as Minerva's smile widened to a grin.
"I think it's a suggestion for the weekend."
XXXXXXX
A/N: I hope everyone's keeping safe. Thanks for reading, do let me know what you thought. I'm working on keeping these update gaps shorter. :)