i couldn't help myself it seems. i decided to just go for it since i update sometimes frequently/sometimes infrequently anyway, so what's one or two or three more stories on top of my usual two going to do? i've decided to be reckless. and to be honest, i haven't completely decided what kind of sad background i was going to give Percy growing up, but whatever it is, it's going to be a little intense (surprise!). for those that haven't read anything by me, i usually have dark fanfictions with dark endings and am not totally turned off by the idea of character death. so bear that in mind.
and trigger warnings. i might not have decided yet, but i do know that i have a tendency to go overboard anyway.
Stay A Day in My Coffin
Chapter One: The Funeral
The day of Fred's funeral came just like his death, startling and merciless.
It was nine am on some day of the week in some day in late May. The sky that morning was non-descript but came with rays of sunshine that left a prickly sensation on Percy's neck and nearly put him into a catatonic state.
He'd arrived two hours early that day just to make sure that everything was going along smoothly. When George had heard of this, he'd scornfully said: yes, well, Percy wouldn't want to botch up his perfect attendance record. And he did have a perfect attendance record. He'd been there for every decision that had been made, from picking out the tombstone to the painful service arrangements that extended endlessly into a grief-ridden, painstaking vacuum. From the ghastly torment that he'd felt when he'd had to ruefully say that Fred was unmarried to hours of trying to rifle through his parents' room for wand ownership and wizarding insurance papers. For days on end, he'd been greeted by the sound of Molly sobbing over her armchair and George threatening him as if he'd strangled Fred to death with his bare hands. For the last two weeks, he'd been 'entrusted' with tasks 'nobody else felt up to, darling, why wouldn't you try to do it instead?'—as if Percy were a distant cousin who'd come to help at the right time instead of another grieving family member. He could hear scolds from the kitchen, "Even when Fred's died, all he can think about is paperwork" was a common one. Usually from George, who had grown painfully contemptuous over the past few weeks.
The black clothes that Percy wore felt heavier than the coffin that he helped Arthur, Bill and Charlie carry. They were afraid that George might collapse and kill himself if he'd been left to the task. Besides, he was so thin these days that Percy bet he couldn't have lifted up the coffin if he'd even tried.
Before they'd carried Fred (who had become 'the corpse' or 'the body' in the past few weeks), they'd stared at each other with blank facial expressions. They'd given each other cursory nods, as if they were strangers meeting for the first time in a Ministry elevator. We've forgiven you, their gestures said, but we still haven't forgotten about what happened! The whole thing left a chill down Percy's spine. He thought that he might drop the coffin himself, heaving underneath the weight of a responsibility that he couldn't bear to face. The funeral was long and mournful, and the tasteless canapes that Percy had shelled out a pretty sickle for remained uneaten. But he'd already expected that to begin with. He felt heavier and heavier as the day past, heavier than the debris they'd pulled Fred's body out of. Heavier than the coffin they'd lowered into the ground. Heavier than George's salty, fat tears and the silence that followed his mum's howls of pain. Heavier than the sickle that he'd found in Fred's pocket the night he'd died, that he'd stolen, just to feel it and know that he could still feel something.
How could be in so much pain yet be so numb? How could you feel so much and so little at the same time?
The screams, cries and sounds of discontentment made Percy shiver. The sounds of misery, the echoes of pain, his childhood, his adulthood, his youth, all coming to this one single moment at nine-or-ten-or-eleven-in-the-blazing-morning where they ended Book Fred in the middle of an unfinished chapter. George, who had been forced into a tie and a shirt, whose clothes were loose around him, had collapsed into the ground beside him. His mother, who had somehow developed wrinkles overnight, had been crying from dawn and would most likely be carrying on until dusk. Her face was puffy and red as she rubbed George's shoulder. Angelina Johnson was cradling him, and Lee Jordan was crouched down beside him, patting his shoulder as he repeatedly said, "Come on, mate. Come on."
"Hey," Molly's voice was so tender and loving that even Percy's heart melted when he heard it. "You can talk about him." He knew she'd made a mistake the second that she'd said that. As if talking about it would make a difference, Percy imagined George thinking. "Lee and Angelina are, aren't you, loves?" she smiled weakly. "Talking about him that is."
"Yeah," Lee said quietly. "We wrote up speeches and everything for the memorial. Rehearsed them… sort of."
"Well, I don't care about that!" George yelled back at him, suddenly getting up from his position and leaving Angelina in the lurch. Katie, who was stood beside Lee, jumped up. "You can talk about what a great fucking lad he is all by yourself!" George pointed a finger at him. "I don't have to be here every waking moment. I'm already living with this for the rest of my sodding life. You can't force me to talk about it." His brown eyes darkened, and he was still wagging a finger at Lee like he was the one that had told Fred to join them in the Battle of Hogwarts.
"Shh," Arthur placed a hand on him. "The service be over before you know it," he'd pressed his lips to George's hair.
"Liar," George croaked back painfully. Arthur and Molly looked at each other, the silent debate of 'if we let him miss out now, would he regret it for the rest of his life?' and decided not to take the chance. If they'd known what was going to happen, Percy would've reckoned that they would've knocked him out with Dreamless Sleep for the rest of the day.
Percy took a glance back at the tombstone just before they'd left. He couldn't believe that it was real. Glistening almost in the gratuitous sunlight. It was warm, the kind of beautiful, mild warmth that you ate ice-cream cones in as a child.
Their home had been prepared for the memorial service. The Burrow was covered in white flowers and heaving black wreaths, with photos of Fred's smiling face at the table. There were tables with refreshments and small canapes that Percy was sure very few would actually partake in. Percy's Gringott's vault, which had its fair share, had been drained of its account with little left for rainy days. Though Percy supposed he hadn't really been planning on going out much to begin with. Arthur had offered to help, but it didn't take much persuading from Percy's end that he could do it all by himself. (He couldn't, suffice to say.)
"Percy," he heard the sound of his wife behind him. He'd turned around and found Audrey standing there. She'd promised that she'd be there to pop to make sure the arrangements were…well-arranged. "How was the funeral?"
Percy only offered her a small smile. "Awe-inspiring," he'd replied in a crushed tone. "A symphonic play actually."
"It'll get easier—some days," Audrey reached out to place a hand on his arm before she stood up on her toes. He leaned down and kissed her, quickly. "I'll go now," she'd said, and they'd both decided that she shouldn't meet his family like this. "You've done all you could. The service is beautiful." Audrey smiled at him, looking back at the photograph of Fred that she'd placed. He could still smell her perfume everywhere. "Fred was beautiful."
Percy nodded his head. But before Audrey could leave, George had practically stormed his way into the house. His eyes paused for a few moments onto Audrey's form, who was not appropriately dressed for any memorial service in her…well, to be fair, she was in her old blue-and-orange flannel pyjamas. Apparated straight from home. And visibly pregnant too, well into her third trimester of pregnancy.
Audrey instinctively moved to place a hand on his arm. His family came in. George, who had abandoned all form of decorum since the beginning of the day, stared at Audrey and snorted. "Great, Perce. You brought a pregnant tart to my brother's memorial service. Absolutely fantastic."
"George!" Molly looked a little perturbed, but also staring at Audrey with a confused look. "Who is this?"
Percy's lip twitched. "Don't talk to her like that." He could hear Audrey consoling him with her soft words.
"I'm nobody. I'll be going," Audrey said as quickly as possible, but it was that longing look that she shot over at Percy that gave her away. She was probably one of two people in the world that would look at him like that. And it was awkward for her not to kiss him. He could peg that straight away with how unnaturally she was holding his hand. She couldn't resist and gave him a peck on his cheek, and he probably shouldn't have enabled it by leaning down so she could. It took about three seconds but giving the state of her and the fact that she was wearing a ring (and so was he to be fair but it had gone unnoticed… well, except this time he'd suppose.)
"Oh, your wife," George said plainly. "You brought your wife for us to meet. First time ever. At Fred's funeral."
"It wasn't to meet," Percy's ears had gone red. "She was…" he gestured towards the arrangements. "Helping."
"Helping," this time, Bill was starting to look at him like he was mad. "You couldn't find anyone else to help you, Perce? You don't have a family that could help you with your brother's funeral?" he'd said a little slowly, angrily too. "This isn't the bloody time for you to bring your bird over to help." Percy had felt Audrey wrap her arms around him.
"Don't talk to him like that," Audrey said, but it was fruitless. "He's arranged all of this by himself. He's—"
"She might as well stay, Perce," George mumbled indignantly. Percy felt like smacking him. "I bet she has a lot to say about Fred, doesn't she? She's known him so well! She could probably share a few memories that even I didn't know about!" he sarcastically said. She looked at him with a determined look on her face.
"Darling, I don't…I don't think that's wise," Molly said to George. She stared at Percy like he'd committed a capital offence.
"She can stay!" George yelled, and nobody was going to tell him otherwise. "I want to hear all about how you two met... and how you've managed to knock her up too! Wow, Perce!" He clapped his hand into mockful glee. "Because this is the place for it, isn't it? At my twin brother's sodding funeral!" he looked so withdrawn and pale, unlike himself. The George that Percy was seeing had no reminiscent of the George that he had been. It was like he'd died too sometimes.
They, and the disgruntled guests that were waiting outside, got seated within the hour. George got first pick of where to sit. Though even then, he'd seemed quite detached and somewhat unhinged about the whole thing. Percy wished he'd done something. He wished that he'd decided to leave. He'd wished that he'd taken Audrey with him because he didn't know what to do. If she'd left, he'd have no doubt that George would continue to throw away comments about that too. And she was sitting there uncomfortably, staring at him every now and then with the look of 'what do we do now?'.
Lee's speech was lightheaded but did nothing to break the tension in the air. The one that followed, Angelina's, was heart-warming, touching, with memories that made even Ron start blubbering (and he was trying hard not to.)
Percy felt stone-like. He'd cried so much every evening after Fred's death (sometimes, well into the night) that his whole body felt incapable of producing anymore tears. Especially not in public with everyone's eyes on him, but he knew that the second that his head would hit the pillow that night, he'd be crying til morning. He felt Audrey place her hand onto his, squeezing it as hard as she could. He didn't know how much he'd needed her until then. The only friendly face in a crowded, dim room full of people that he'd known since he was a child. And he was the one that felt like a stranger. He could imagine them talking about him behind his back. 'Why was he crying so much?' 'Why wasn't he crying at all?' 'Did he deserve to be here after his cock-up?' 'Well, he should be here after what he'd done, to at least pretend to care' 'How did he have the heart to organise this all?' 'Yes, he should be the one organising it! George was hardly the candidate for it, was he?' The imaginary questions were making Percy bite his lip so hard that he could taste blood. He could barely hear whatever speech Harry was delivering over the deafening sounds in his mind.
"I could've pushed him away, Gin," he'd heard Ron say in a hushed whisper. "I think I was close enough to do it." Percy bet that he was closer, but the thought hadn't even entered his mind. Did that make him cruel? Did that mean he didn't really care enough? "I could've pushed him away." There was a pause, where Ron's breathing hitched. "I could've done something." Then another pause. "He was our brother." As if nobody knew that.
"It's not your fault," Ginny whispered back to him. It's mine went the unspoken feeling. Because Percy came to know that when it came to Fred's death, it was everyone's fault. At the same time, it was nobody's fault. "Percy was right next to him and he probably couldn't have saved him if he'd tried." If I'd tried, Percy thought. Was he supposed to have known? Was there some kind of intuition that he'd lacked, being the worst Weasley? Ron snorted in a way that said he didn't believe that. As if it were Percy's own personal failures that Fred was in a hole in the ground.
"Fred knew what he signed up for," Charlie said nothing to refute the point that Percy couldn't have done anything, when Percy needed him to. It hung around his head like a swinging muggle guillotine. Was he guilty? Was he not?
Bill scoffed. "Fred was a kid," he was only twenty years old, just started up a business. "What did he know?"
Percy couldn't have done anything either, he'd wanted someone to say, but the things they didn't say was left hanging in the air just as much as the things they'd said. It already felt like he was holding the world over his shoulder—him being a permanent prat, him leaving home, him not being someone that anyone in his family understood—and now, the thought of holding Fred's death over him made his knees buckle under the weight. Suffocating. He could hardly imagine walking, not even with the sturdiest shoes.
"Percy," Audrey looked at him with a softened expression. "You couldn't have done anything," the statement brought hot tears to his eyes. Why was it that he still felt guilty though? Even when she'd told him that it wasn't his fault?
"I know," he answered, rubbing his eyes. He tried not to catch George's eyes, trying not to be stared at.
Then the whole room lapsed into a stony silence as Harry finished his speech.
"Thanks, mate," George said quietly, not even looking up at him. Thanks for not letting us all of us die, I suppose was the sentiment behind what he'd said. Percy offered Harry a small smile, mostly to himself. Was he allowed to smile at him? The look that Ron gave him said not, but Harry seemed to be alright with it.
"Well, if…if nobody else is going to say anything," Arthur stood up, "then I suppose we can get on with…"
"Percy," Audrey's voice broke him out of his concentration. He couldn't hear what his father was saying. "Your speech."
"My speech?" Percy echoed incredulously. He wasn't going to speak in front of anyone about Fred. George might genuinely throttle him. But Audrey was nodding her head, smiling at him. "You'll do great," she'd said.
When she looked at him with those big eyes, he found himself unable to refuse. Awkwardly, Percy stood up from where he was sat, earning the attention of everyone in his room. That was when Percy realised that he had made a grievous mistake that he couldn't get out of. He shouldn't be giving speeches. He wasn't allowed to give speeches, and George's eyes boring into him said just that. He took a tiny piece of parchment paper. "I'd…I'd like to say something," he had rehearsed this so many times, but it sounded so foreign coming out of him still. "I suppose."
But before he'd even said anything, George had gotten up, "No, you will NOT say anything!" he shrieked out so loudly that it echoed through the room. "You have no bloody right!" he waved his fists into the air in a way that made Percy go numb and stiff. "This isn't about your funeral, Percy! This isn't about you!" before Percy could realise what was going on, George had grabbed the photo of Fred on the table and had smacked him with it. A yelp sounded out from his mum. Audrey let out a gasp. Percy could feel a trail of blood running down his face. "THIS IS ABOUT FRED!"
Percy raised his hand up to feel his hand where the glass had clattered. A soft whimper left his throat.
"It could've been about you if you've tried hard enough," George muttered loud enough for it to echo through the room. Percy didn't need a single O.W.L to know what George had meant, what he'd been implying all along, since the beginning of the day. Well, Percy did suppose that George was right. If he'd pushed Fred out of the way, then he'd deserved to be in his own funeral. Was that what would've taken for him to be absolved of his sins? Because the only way that Percy was going to save Fred was that if he'd helplessly flung himself in the throes of an explosion that he couldn't have anticipated. "But there's nobody giving you badges for that, is there? So, you just didn't bother!"
"I didn't know," Percy whispered to him, trying to keep this conversation between them.
George scoffed. "You didn't know?" he cocked his head to one side, smirking. "But you know everything, Perce!"
"Not everything," Percy replied back quietly. "If I knew I would've tried harder." His throat hurt. Bill's face softened from behind George. "I'm your brother, George. You have to believe if I know, I would've tried harder."
"Are you?" was all George replied with, hands shaking. "After what you've done?" his shoulders shook. "He died just as you came back. What the hell am I supposed to think, Perce? Huh?" his hands shook. "Coincidence of the ages, you think?" Percy just stared at him with a softened expression. "You've distracted Ron, you've…you've done something." George shook his head so much so that Percy's whole body ached.
"I didn't kill him," Percy said with less confidence that he'd ever had in his life. "You have to believe me."
Percy stared down at the bit of parchment paper and then offered it to George. His younger broke took it mockingly. The whole world had gone quiet. His mother pale and his father looking like he'd seen a ghost.
"Yes, you did," George almost spat at the paper, but that was just as it was.
When George opened the neatly folded piece of parchment paper, his eyes had scanned the paper. It went onto a formal introduction (no light-hearted joke to break the tension, no pleasantries, no remarks). Stiff and proper, followed by a flood of memories. Three-year-old Fred running around in mismatched socks, with his hand on his hips as he'd told Percy off for being a bore and not letting them eat a whole sleeve of jam thumbprints at six in the morning. Six-year-old Fred tugging at Percy's jumper as he stealthily asked him for a night light because he didn't want George to know that he was afraid of the dark. Eleven-year-old Fred begrudgingly asking Percy if he could read mum's letter when it came in (but it wasn't because he was homesick or anything! That would be lame.) Thirteen-year-old Fred and him sitting next to each other in the Great Hall where he'd accidentally professed his love for Angelina Johnson, who thought that he was a disgusting vile creature. Fourteen-year-old Fred getting a new Beater's Bat and accidentally knocking himself out. He'd glared at George for weeks when he'd mentioned it. Fifteen-year-old Fred found sleeping on the mattress with a stuffy nose because he didn't want to get George ill. There was no ending, just a note to make it up on the spot as he went along. Percy imagined an awkward ending, with another one of those cursory nods, and a glare from George. He did not expect to be smacked into the face with Fred's photograph.
"Fine, Percy," George said, the first time he'd probably addressed him as something other than a prat or a git in ages. "You can say your speech if you want." A sneer made its way to George's face. "If it makes you feel better."
George and Percy stared at each other for some time. Percy looked at the broken photograph beside him.
Being smacked over the face with a photograph didn't inspire him to. "Mum? Dad?" Percy looked up at his parents, who just let this display happen without a word. Who hadn't scolded George one bit. "Do you really think that I've killed him?" his throat hurt just saying those words.
Audrey grabbed Percy's hand and tore him away. His parents didn't immediately refute the point. What did that mean?
"Percy, let's go," Audrey grabbed his arm. "You should be ashamed of yourself." Percy straightened his back, shocked at his wife telling George off. George, that had lost his twin, and she was telling him off. George looked like he was taking it, his face had gone translucent. "You're right. This is your brother's funeral. And you've turned it into a contest to see how far you could mock my husband without anyone bothering to put you in your place." Audrey placed a hand on Percy's back. "You can't talk to him like that. And I won't let you."
There were no words exchanged. Percy was pulled away by Audrey, who left the house in a haste.
Percy didn't know if he'd wanted anyone to stop them. He just knew that suddenly, he'd become exhausted, weary beyond his imagination They apparated back to his flat. Audrey's dark hair splayed everywhere when she'd taken it out of her messy plait and her breathing was sharp and ragged. A book was on the floor, Spells So Ancient That… lead the tagline and he had picked up the book to put it back onto the shelf when his eyes had caught sight of the table of contents. Spells for all what you desire. He'd doubted that.
"Percy, you've never told me that they talked to you like that!" Audrey cocked her head. "How dare they?" she shook her head.
Percy looked at the index, eyes skimming over charms with funnier and funnier titles. Then his heart stopped at the title of BEREAVEMENT SPELLS. He let his sharp breath in, his cheeks turning rubicund.
Audrey crossed her arms over her chest. "And you've apologised to them?" she sounded incredulous.
Without warning, he'd sunk to the floor with shaky hands. He'd read every heading and subheading, wistfully and mournfully looking for something that could bring Fred back. No matter what the cost, he'd thought. No matter.
And there it was, in black and parchment white, a spell that could bring Fred back it promised. 'Be A Vessel For Your Loved One Today!' it advertised. 'Let a dearly departed soul use your body for once. Want to bring your mum back for one more Mother's Day celebration? Need another piece of advice from your ole dad? Well, why don't you lend them a hand and give yourself up as a medium for once?'. Along that, there was a bright red WARNING! label that was big enough to frighten even the most rebellious of spell casters. Something about not always being possible to reverse it being the most important one it seemed. And that was supposed to be an unwanted side-effect? Him possibly never coming back? Percy lamented. He stared at the instructions and felt the first pang of sickening satisfaction that he'd had in years.
'Effect will take place in twenty-four to forty-eight hours'; the script had promised. 'Spell cannot be recanted once cast.' His mind was racing so much he could barely read the rest of it.
"Percy?" Audrey looked back at him, seeing him slouched onto the ground. She sat next to him. He didn't tear his eyes away from the book.
"You never told me about this," Percy said quietly, staring at the complicated, intricate spell before him.
Audrey peered into the book and had gone white. "Percy," she'd placed a hand on his arm. "It's not safe, my love." Her voice softened. "If you do this, if you let Fred use your body, you might not come back. Not ever and I…"
Her voice wobbled a little. "I can't lose you too," she said, looking away from him.
"You won't," he sounded confident. "You'll bring me back." Percy decided he didn't want to say that he didn't care about coming back. He'd picked up his wand. Nine inches, oak, dragonstring core. Entirely unremarkable given his family's history of peculiar wands of all shapes and sizes, with wood types so rare that you'd need a wand guide just to be able to dissect it. Percy tried to steady his hand as much as possible, but he was shaking too much to be able to.
"Percy…"
"Audrey," Percy looked at his wife with a pleading look in his face. "Please."
She didn't look certain. Tears started to run down his cheeks. "Audrey, please," he begged. "You can bring me back. This is what you do." His throat hurt; his body ached. "My family hates me. You're the only one that…" He felt like he was in the throes of agony. "Please."
"This is what I do," Audrey nodded her head. She picked up his wand from his hand.
With a few swishes of his wand and a softly uttered world, the most blinding white erupted from the tip of his wand. It escaped the tip, shot up and hit him back in the head. Percy must've lost consciousness for a few second. A battered copy of a book he'd read when he was a child fell onto his lap. Stars made his way to his eyes and he had the most thumping, throbbing headache he'd ever had in his life. But he'd felt the best that he'd had all day. Hopeful even.
"Effects will take place in twenty-four to forty-eight hours," Audrey read off quietly. "I hope they decide to apologise by then," she'd said a little darkly.
They stayed together for a couple of minutes there. Percy could smell her shampoo, feel her hair. He loved this woman so much that it physically hurt him sometimes.
"It's not your fault, Percy," Audrey grabbed his hand. "You didn't kill him."
Percy mindlessly nodded his head. "Thank you," he'd said, gripping tightly onto her hand. "Thank you."
