What Were You Doing Out There in the Dark?
Chapter Four
Homecoming
"He'll be here," Percy insisted to a sceptical nurse. "I'm sure he will."
"When? This time, next year?" she was acting like she was personally paying for his admission. He had heard them complaining outside about budget cuts and lay-offs. Hospitals were businesses too.
Percy's tone was indifferent. "They might not be paying you enough, but there's no need to take it out on me."
She recoiled in surprise and then sashayed out of the room.
He'll be here, Percy thought to himself. He wasn't stupid. He knew that someone else had answered his owl, saying that his father would be there. He knew it was likely Perkins that had because Perkins barely knew English. Even replying with a sentence meant a host of spelling errors. He will.
It was his discharge day and Percy had been waiting, waiting, waiting since he woke up.
Firstly, he waited for healers to give him a clean bill of health. Secondly, the Aurors to come by to take some final statements from him. Thirdly, he was waiting for his father to come by and take him home. Before his parents had practically implied to him that he was a disgrace to them and the family, they'd bought him a holdall that contained some clothes and pants. Which was all good because the clothes he'd come in had been confiscated by the Aurors as 'evidence'.
Percy was not stupid. No Auror believed him. His own family didn't even want to listen to him. That was just as well because Percy's only intention was to go home, drink a bottle of firewhiskey and forget that it even happened.
Over the last twenty-four hours of his admission, Percy had written out a long owl to his husband, Roger. Roger was out in another country, attending a mate's wedding. Percy sent the letter just an hour back. He explained everything that happened to him in sickeningly extensive detail, and he was a little detached and worn out when he'd written it. He had no idea how he'd managed to get into such spell-binding detail without making himself sick to the bone. Within half an hour of receiving the letter, Roger had owled him back, telling him that he would be back home that very evening.
Percy thought he'd stay in the hospital until the evening, but the hospital staff made it clear that they'd throw him out before two in the afternoon if he couldn't make any arrangements.
His father walked into the room, looking like someone had put an Imperio on him and forced him to come and see him.
"Good afternoon, Percy," Arthur said.
"Good afternoon," Percy answered. He knew his father was disgusted by him, but he couldn't will himself to care. They hadn't been in each other's lives in almost a year. He had found him in one of the most vulnerable positions that he'd ever been in his life and had done nothing for him.
"I don't feel like I need to tell you this, Percy," Arthur decided to say. Here it came. The unnecessary complaint. "But you can sign yourself out of the hospital. You're not a fifth year. You don't need your father to do it. You're a grown man."
"A grown man with a head injury," Percy reminded him.
"That they've discharged you from," Arthur pointed out. "Couldn't your husband come and help you?"
Percy smiled weakly at him, holding his holdall. His father made no attempt to take it from him. He found it funny that their relationship had gotten to the point where they couldn't accept simple pleasantries around each other without an enveloping tension in the room. "He's in Ireland for a wedding. He's coming home this evening."
"You've never invited us to a wedding," Arthur stated.
"There never was one," Percy answered. He had the ring and the papers, but Percy had about as much interest in having a massive wedding as he did in having his spleen removed. And if he did have a wedding, then he'd felt funny sending invitations out to his family. Let them find out that he was bent through owl mail. That would go down a treat. "And why do you care? Would you have come?"
"For Godric's sake, Percy, of course, I would've come," Arthur acted like that was out of the question.
"But you won't come pick me up from the hospital," Percy challenged. "But you'd come to my wedding. That just about explains our relationship, don't you think?" his voice was extraordinarily bitter.
They exited the hospital with the same enmity between them as it was in that fight ages ago.
Just outside the hospital gate, Arthur cleared his throat. "Well, then I'm off then," Arthur said. "Take care of yourself."
"The least you could do is walk me to my flat," Percy said with a fixated look at him. "I understand that you find me vile, and you're rather not be around me, but you could walk me down the streets out of sheer decency." Arthur looked ashamed that Percy had sussed out the fact that he was uncomfortable around him.
As they headed down, Percy felt himself grow weary within just a few minutes of walking. His whole body hurt. The events of the last few days had hit him like a brick, and he was finding it hard to keep himself calm. On the inside, he was terrified of being alone. He had no idea how he'd make do with the few hours until Roger was home.
"I wanted to talk to you about yesterday," Percy said very plainly.
Arthur paled. "Percy, I don't want to talk about this."
"Suit yourself," Percy's words had made Arthur's cheeks go red.
Now that the conversation was opened, Arthur felt like he had to say something. He'd been thinking about it all day, wondering how was it possible that this situation had unravelled the way that it did. "You're just like your mother."
"I find that hard to believe because you could barely stand me," Percy had seen how lovey-dovey his parents were. You'd assume that having a child that reminded your beloved spouses would have a good relationship with you. "Why can't you act civil with me?" he ordered as he was standing outside a fish and chip shop. The smell of grease made him queasy. "Why do you hate me?"
Arthur looked stunned by the question. "I don't hate you, Percy," he said. "We're just going through a tough spot."
"You're going through a tough spot? Really?" Percy turned to him, placing his hands into his pockets.
Arthur looked a little taken back by the tone in Percy's voice.
"You don't have to believe me to give me the benefit of the doubt for Godric's sake. I'm not a stranger. But if you want to treat me like one then I can return the favour. We're done here," Percy turned around and sped off from the chip shop.
His flat wasn't really that far away from where St Mungo's was. He apparated the short distance and found himself looking for his keys in his holdall. As he was crouched to the ground, he managed to extract his key just as he was standing outside his flat complex. Arthur seemed to have caught up with him, and it was ironic that he was chasing Percy.
"Percy, I'm sorry," Arthur finally said. "You're right. We should talk about this."
Percy stared at his father and sighed deeply. "I'm not sure what I benefit from talking to you."
Arthur grabbed onto the door handle, preventing Percy from walking into his flat. "There's a reason you've asked me to come pick you up," he finally said. "If you really wanted nothing to do with me, you wouldn't have sent that letter."
"Wow, very impressive deduction," Percy retorted sarcastically. "Yes, well, I know this may surprise you, but I don't exactly feel safe alone in my flat, but I'd rather take the bloody risk because trying to reason with you is going to be the death of me." When Arthur refused to move away from the door, Percy rolled his eyes. He could just apparate to the flat, but he felt so tired and weak. The first stint of apparition had taken all he had. "You're the one that wanted things to go back together like they were."
"Well, I was wrong," Arthur finally decided to say. "It just caught me by surprise is all. You've never…you've kept it all as a secret. I mean imagine, Percy, if I just came out and said the things that you did? Wouldn't you feel a little…"
Percy opened his mouth to argue, but then he just stayed quiet. "It wasn't the time."
"No, it wasn't," Arthur agreed. "This liking towards older men—is it because you don't feel like I gave you any attention?"
"I need a drink for this," was all that Percy answered.
Arthur seemed to agree with him on that, and Percy let him into his apartment complex. He walked all eight flights of stairs, but this time, Arthur was holding his holdall. His apartment space wasn't that generous. He let his father toss his holdall to his bed and without even bothering to take off his shoes, dove for his liquor cabinet.
Percy took out a bottle of firewhiskey and laid down on the floor, uncorking the bottle and taking a hungry gulp.
"I thought you were going to share," Arthur chuckled.
"Exactly when did I give you that impression?" Percy asked. Still clutching the bottle, he buried his head into his knees. This was so unfair. Most people that went through something traumatic weren't this badly alone.
"You are exactly like your mother," Arthur insisted. "What's your husband's name?"
"Roger," Percy answered. He was sure he wasn't gushing out his lover's name, and that his eyes hadn't started glowing, but he'd always been like that. "Roger Davies. Ravenclaw. Wandmaker—or well, he's trying to be," there was a hint of a smile that Percy couldn't stop himself from forming. "He was a close mate of mine before."
"Before you found out you fancied each other?"
"Something like that." Percy couldn't help but smile even more. The bottle felt heavy in his hands. "I'm not a monster because I happen to like men older than me. And you didn't have to act like I was." He looked at him. He cocked his head to one side. "If it were Ginny telling you all about her romantic trysts with professors, you surely wouldn't be acting like that now, would you?" Arthur looked like he'd been punched in the face, and he looked green imagining Ginny with an older man. Percy didn't understand why she, who had more of a fiery personality than he, would be considered a victim and he wouldn't. He didn't think it had anything to do with it beyond the fact that he was a bloody git in his family's eyes.
"No, I suppose not," Arthur admitted. "Percy, I'm sorry."
Percy shifted himself against the wall uncomfortably. He'd wanted to hear those words properly for so long and now that he had, he realised how vapid and meaningless they were because their relationship was still so bloody damaged.
"Kingsley came to me and said that there's been some evidence," Arthur decided to mention. "Of what?"
Percy took another swig of the bottle, wishing he'd had a much nicer drink in his hand. Whenever he thought of the evidence that they'd collected, a part of him wanted to lie in a corner and cry.
"Percy?" Arthur tried to prompt him to answer his questions. "Can we start over?"
He shook his head. "No," Percy finally stated hotly. "But we can work on it if you know your boundaries."
Arthur looked surprised by how brash Percy was being, but he didn't feel like mucking about anymore. If Roger was here, he'd be saying some biting things to Arthur.
"And I'd like to come back home."
"Of course," Arthur looked warmed by the idea.
"Not because I want to go back home," Percy reminded him in a clicked tone. Just in case his father thought that they'd squared everything between them just because he'd given him a half-baked apology. "It's because he knows where I live. The Minister." The thought itself just left him shivering. He bet he knew where the Burrow was too, but the likelihood of him being alone in the Burrow was about as likely as the Chudley Canons winning a game.
"It's really shaken you up, hasn't it?" Arthur looked surprised. "That he knows where you—"
Percy cut him off. "The crying didn't clue you in by any chance?"
"Yes, well…" again, his father looked taken back by Percy's biting words and statements. He was sure one day he'd retort back, but for now, he seemed to be taking it all in without a single complaint on the belief that maybe he deserved it. "Percy, what's really happened between you two? You have to be able to tell someone." His father's look of concern was startling in a way. There was such sincerity in his eyes that Percy found himself almost believing him. "I know. You were trying to tell me. I didn't want to hear anything of it, but things are different now. You have to trust someone."
"I told my husband," Percy said in a clipped tone. "Someone I can trust as you've mentioned. That's enough for now." He made it very obvious that his father was not going to get everything he wanted just because he'd asked for it.
"I suppose I deserve that," so at least they were on the same page.
Percy packed the rest of his things, which he'd crammed in that singular hold-all after he'd shrunken all of his objects. There wasn't really much in the flat, mostly because it was so small. Beyond a couple of expired Pepper-Ups, sad tins of baked beans, a mostly finished loaf of bread, tea, sugar, three pairs of work clothes that he'd altered from his Hogwarts days, and one pair of loafers, Percy didn't have much. He didn't really take much from the Burrow when he'd left. His comb was mostly broken and better left forgotten, his hair products were almost empty, and he couldn't take a whiff of his own cologne without remembering the things that Fudge had said to him about how delicious he smelled like every day. As if he'd frosted himself and Fudge, being on a diet, just couldn't resist taking a bite out of him. It was sickening.
He was glad that the other letter he'd sent hadn't been forgotten. His landlord looked like he'd been keeping Hermes well fed. He was lazy as ever, sleeping there in his cage like he always did after he'd had a massive meal.
Went to Burrow, Percy wrote romantically on a memo that he stuck to the fridge. Please bring wine.
His survival technique was trying to cope with his family with as much drinking as possible, a tactic that he was sure that Charlie would commend him for. He thought he was fine with going back to the Burrow, but he felt a little dazed, just thinking of how his siblings were due to be back for the holidays. Even Bill and Charlie didn't like to miss the Christmas holidays if they could do anything about it. And if he knew his siblings, they'd be acting like he should be groveling at their feet for even letting him come back. As if they'd never done anything vile to him in their lives.
The onslaught of all the Christmas lights and decorations made Percy want to convulse with distaste. There were enough gingerbread man cut-outs, Father Christmas cartoons, candy cane fixtures, and florescent fairy lights to adorn all of Diagon Alley he was sure. Looking at the white, wet blanket covering his house, Percy was perturbed. He had forgotten Roger's gift at home, and he could just imagine Ron making a jibe about him being too cheap to buy them anything good even though he was loaded with money.
Percy kept his head down as he entered the Burrow. His mother was lying on the couch, reading a battered old copy of Witch Weekly. No doubt memorising every as if she would be tested on it in the future.
"Molly," Arthur cleared his throat. "Um…Percy's back from the hospital." He edged him forward, looking like he wanted to disappear and let Percy be his mother's problem. It was just too bloody awkward.
"Oh," Molly looked up from her magazine like he hadn't just come back home after being estranged for a year. "Percy. Yes, of course…from the hospital," she looked a little confused as to why he was there too. "Yes, yes, it's good to have you back, love," she stood up, much sweeter now that she'd had a couple of hours of sleep. She walked over him—no rushing necessary—and then hugged him. It lasted about three seconds. She squeezed his shoulder. "You look well."
Percy doubted he looked well. He hadn't washed his hair for three days to begin with. "Don't sound too overjoyed, mum."
Molly's cheeks coloured in. His father didn't chide him for that. "I'll go put on the tea," she skipped straight off. Percy felt like she couldn't bear to look at him.
Percy cocked his head to look at his father. "I suppose I know what you've been talking about when I've been gone," his voice was venomous. He was tired from just walking, from lugging around that holdall. "What did you tell her? That I was involved in a secret affair?" his voice rose up considerably. "Godric, why don't you go off to work for the Daily Prophet?" before his father could answer him back, Percy stomped up the stairs to his room. A room which he looked forward to sleeping in as much as a hippogriff wanted his feet extracted by a pair of plyers.
And like a self-fulfilling prophecy, the Daily Prophet really did say that the very next day.
MALE SECRETARY INVOLVED IN SCANDALOUS LOVE AFFAIR WITH MINISTER FOR MAGIC.