A/N: Thank you to Lucia Dreams !-lover for their encouraging feedback, but especially to Alix for being the first.
II: because that is the nature of love
Beginnings are always mundane. A smile, a greeting, a lapse into awkwardness. How it always starts, for every boy, for every girl in the world.
It's how it ends where the stories are no longer the same.
But in this place and time, he hadn't known that. All he knew was that she was beautiful. Clearwater-he remembered a line from a book. You are a pool of clear water where the light plays. He looked into her face and unspeakable things were brought to the surface. Fifteen years old. Need and desire followed no rules, would not listen to him. Things he wanted were things one simply did not do. It led to a bad end. But people did do these things. He saw them. Lovers walking down the streets of Hogsmeade, schoolmates sneaking out at night. All cliché, and yet it was the clichés that kept people happy. Fifteen years old: what did he know of how these things came to pass?
There were his parents. Molly and Arthur. Polar opposites; one tall and thin, one short and plump. One forever yelling at the other and one taking it meekly in stride. The meek shall inherit the earth, and that must be true in his father's case if the earth were a pack of children who didn't understand him and a wife who worried and fretted. Sometimes he would see his father look regretfully at his mother as she bustled around the kitchen, look askance at her hands calloused and dry from so many pans scrubbed and drawers laundered. And late at night he would see his mother, lips set in a thin line as she watched his father hunched over a Ministry report or a Muggle contraption. A hug here, a chaste kiss there, and endless talks about the seven of them, Charlie never writes home I'm worried about Bill all the way there in Egypt you better give your sons a talking to they're your sons too Ginny needs new clothes Ron needs new books well not now Percy doesn't look well you spend too much time at the office how about a night out there's too much to be done around here. Percy wondered if that was all there was, and what was there before.
If he were to go by what his brothers had told him, not much. All he'd heard from Charlie and Bill were sniggers about this girl or that, various escapades late at night, and the sudden silence when they realised he was listening in. He'd have thought with two older brothers, wise in the ways of the world, he'd have had a wealth of experience to plumb. But he hadn't known how to ask.
Charlie, after his second year, catching him on his way out the Burrow for a solitary fly.
"Didn't make the Quidditch team, eh? Too bad you're allowed a broom just when I leave school."
Charlie always did have lousy timing. "I didn't exactly not make it, as such-"
"Nothing to worry about, Perce. I can help you train this summer, and you can have another go next year."
He'd turned away from Charlie, stared off into the wide blue skies behind the Burrow. "It's not that, I didn't try out at all."
Charlie had looked at him blankly. "Eh? Why not? And after Mum and Dad got you that broom, too."
Percy had fidgeted a bit, running his hand up and down the broom handle. "I don't know. It's just- I'd rather just fly without a ball in the way." He had hoped Charlie would have seen that he was impatient to be off.
Apparently, Charlie hadn't. "Oh. But-" A very long silence. More fidgeting on Percy's part, Charlie's face wrinkled in confusion. "Ah, well. You'll lend the twins your broom sometime, won't you? The way they've been throwing gnomes over the fence, they'll soon be chucking Bludgers like nobody's business."
He had pushed past his brother. "Just tell me when they need it," he'd called out before mounting his broom and zooming off.
He couldn't remember talking to Charlie for the rest of the summer.
Two summers later. Charlie was home again, still bugging Percy about his broom. Bill had dropped in too, a rare visit, and Mrs. Weasley was monopolising him shamelessly. Ron bouncing off the walls; he was starting his first year at Hogwarts. His father beaming and the twins groaning their disapproval; he'd given the family another prefect. And everything else was changing. He found himself up to his father's ear now, and his voice didn't sound so undignified, uncontrollable any more. The girls in his year were no longer skinny and pigtailed; out of nowhere he had noticed the way Stella Crawford swayed her hips, the way Jerusha Beauchamp's bosom swelled under her robes. A Hufflepuff stealing glances during Herbology, her mild grey eyes peering over a Cantankerous Conker, too mild for him. Oliver asking him to keep the prefects and Filch off his back whilst he sneaked off with a girl to the Quidditch changing rooms; he never agreed to but no-one ever found out, anyway.
Flying above his village, not too high because too high and he couldn't breathe, he'd never known Ottery St. Catchpole held so many girls. Touching down for an ice-cream at the corner shop, seeing the girl two houses over as if for the very first time. Lucy Mudhoney, flaxen hair that reached to her waist, clear creamy skin unlike his freckled own. Teeth that stuck out a bit too far and a loud braying laugh, but she had such big blue eyes so he had said hello how are you and bought her an ice-cream. They'd played some as kids, but he hadn't seen much of her since he'd gone off to Hogwarts. He'd asked her what it was like studying so close to home. She'd said it was just fine but of course she would have liked to go to Hogwarts all the same. Then he'd seen her looking at him, smiling shyly but with those beautiful eyes suddenly cold and hard, so he'd bought her another ice-cream, his last sickle, and invited her for a walk. They'd dropped all talk of school then, but since he hadn't known of anything else to talk about he'd waited until they wandered off the main road and she'd finished her ice-cream, and kissed her.
Her mouth was soft and tasted like chocolate, and her lips were pliant, and she was as cold and creamy as her skin. He had somehow known that there should have been more to it than this, but she had pulled away and squeezed his hand and pointed out that it was already dark. So they had walked back to her house, holding hands all the while, where Lucy's mum was waiting on the doorstep with a wand in her hand and a grim look on her face. Where have you been, she had yelled, telling us you're just nipping to town for sweets and look what time it is. Noticing Percy for the first time. And with a Weasley too! Those Weasley men, they never know when to stop. Look at them practically bursting out of their house. Shaking her head. Poor Molly, and she was so lovely. Go on home, boy, before you bring some girl to a bad end. Not to my daughter, you won't. Hustling Lucy into the house, and both not looking back whilst he stood there, in the dark.
So he had trudged back home, dragging his broom in the dust, expecting his mum to yell at him too. But no-one had noticed he'd gone; they all thought he had been up in his room, reading. The whole lot of them at the kitchen table, passing a photo around whilst Charlie beamed, proudly proclaiming, "Isn't she beautiful?"
Percy had wondered if he could ask Charlie how he could make things work out for him, too, how to avoid bad ends, when someone thrust the photo into his hands.
It was a Chinese Fireball.
That left no-one but Bill, and there had been but one day that summer when Mrs. Weasley hadn't been hovering about him. Ron had needed to get his Hogwarts things; Mrs. Weasley decided to have Ginny along for the ride. Percy hadn't received anything new, aside from his owl, for he was getting Bill and Charlie's old things, while the twins had gotten his old things in turn. That had left the five of them to hold down the Burrow. Of course the Quidditch players had bolted out of the house as soon as they could, leaving Percy and Bill to tackle the dirty breakfast dishes on their own.
Bill came to him, which was supposed to have made things easier.
"Prefect," he had said, clapping Percy on the shoulder. A proud smile. "Thinking you'll be Head Boy, too?"
"Like you?" Percy look puzzled. "I'll try."
Bill had pulled out his wand, and cast a cleaning charm over the cutlery. "You don't have to be like me, you know."
The puzzled look had slowly morphed into a scowl. "I'm doing this for myself."
A sigh. "Suppose it's hard to see that. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry for me, be sorry for Ron. He hasn't even set foot in Hogwarts and already we've all beaten him to it." Percy had waved his own wand, sending the dishes to the sink with a satisfying splash.
A frown, this time. "To what?"
"To everything."
"Well, you're going to have to make sure he doesn't feel that way. You're the big brother now."
He hadn't meant to say it, wouldn't have said it if he knew it would make Bill pull away. "I've always been the big brother." He'd shrugged, matter-of-factly. "All you and Charlie ever did was look good and chuck a Quaffle at us every now and then."
"The mouths of babes." Bill had looked at him, glumly. "The twins don't listen to you, though."
He'd snorted. "They don't listen to anybody."
"So I've noticed. Well. You take care of Ron, then. And Ginny too, when it's her turn." A pause. "I'm sorry no-one's ever taken care of you, Perce."
It had slipped out before he thought. "Who knows, maybe I just haven't found her yet."
"Her? Did you get into Mum's romance novels or something? That's not the way it works."
"How does it work, then?"
Bill had opened his mouth, only to shut it again.
"How does it work, then?" Percy had repeated, a little more urgency creeping into his voice.
"Ah. Well. You know, when two people- no. Well. Don't you know any girls?"
"Of course I do," he'd said indignantly.
"There you go," Bill had replied, looking strangely relieved. "It's something you have to figure out for yourself."
That was not what he had needed to hear. "Then I will."
But in this place and time, he still hadn't figured it out; all he really did know was that she was beautiful. And even that took a while coming.
He was alone in a room full of trophies and plaques. A quiet place, a place where he could hear himself think. Where his dreams weren't stupid, and where there was no one to roll their eyes at him or tell him to shut up. He looked up at a brass plate of Head Boys and Girls, his eyes lingering over William Weasley.
"My name shall be up there one day."
He turned to the voice next to him, and saw a small face obscured by masses of soft-looking, curly hair. The only features he could make out with any clarity were her eyes. He always noticed the eyes. And this pair was big and dark and challenging.
"I didn't know anyone else came here."
The girl looked away from the wall and smiled. He noticed the eagle on her robes, her tie striped with blue and bronze. "Well, now you do." She extended a hand. "Penelope Clearwater."
He took it. "Percy Weasley."
She jabbed a finger at the wall. "I take it William's your brother, then?"
"Yes."
"So you'll be the second Head Boy in the family."
"We don't know that yet."
She eyed his prefect badge. "You think so. You wouldn't be here staring at this thing if you didn't."
"Well, what about you?"
She flipped her hair, and Percy had a good look at her face. Olive skin and full lips, warm and inviting. It belied the way she spoke. "Like I said, I know I'll be on there someday. Have to be."
He took note of the way she carried herself, her decisive words. "You're very sure of yourself."
Her laugh came too quickly, loud and dissonant. Weren't girls supposed to sound fairy-like and tinkling, like silver bells? "Oh, no. This is just a front."
"That so?" He raised an eyebrow. "So what are you really like, then?"
"Why don't you find out for yourself?"
Not again.
But he didn't have time to find out, not really. There was being a prefect, for one thing, and the O.W.L.s, for another. He had to do a good job, he had to get top marks; what for, he hadn't the faintest idea.
What he saw of her was swift and fleeting. Stolen glances at mealtimes, when he would see her mechanically eating, not alone but always apart. Glimpses when he passed her classroom; watching her in the library, losing her patience with a Hufflepuff in her study group, and subsequently arguing with Madam Pince for the noise she made. At Quidditch matches, jumping up and down when Ravenclaw scored, swearing long and creatively at Slytherin, and nodding in resigned approval at Gryffindor. In the corridors, hearing a loud laugh echoing off the stone walls, seeing a wild mane of hair turning round the corner; he could never quite catch up to her and he was always, always just behind.
He gave up and smiled more at the gentle Hufflepuffs, didn't come down as hard on the impish Gryffindors. Not for him were the wiles of Slytherin; nor, it seemed, the sharpness of Ravenclaw.
It never occurred to him to think that he would find her only if she let him.
The school year was coming to a close, and Percy once again found himself in the trophy room.
Looking back, being Prefect wasn't what he thought it would be. All that authority and he was still alone; the power of giving and taking points, it turned out, distanced you from your old friends rather than helping you make new ones. It certainly hadn't helped him get along with Fred and George, and Ron started Hogwarts already determined not to follow in Percy's footsteps. At least he gave his youngest brother that much; Ron was carving out an identity of his own, even if it was nothing but the opposite of all the five Weasley boys that came before him. Still, he did wish Ron would steady himself a bit, try and apply himself instead of wandering around the school with Harry Potter. Ah, well. Maybe he would do a better job as an older brother for Ginny next year. One more year, to be a better brother, to prove himself, and hopefully become Head Boy. He ran his gaze down the brass plate again, but not really reading it- he'd memorised every name long ago.
Someone poked him from behind, jolting him out of his thoughts. He whirled around, ready to tell off whoever snuck up behind him like that, and maybe take away a few points.
"Hello."
Percy tried to arrange his face along more pleasant lines. "Oh. Hello, Penelope. It's nice to see you again."
"We don't seem to run into each other too often, do we?"
He fingered his prefect badge. "Oh. Well, I've been keeping busy- not much time for just hanging about places."
"But I'm sure you hang out here." She smiled. "Although before me, you were alone."
"Well, yes." And that was it. Hadn't he been waiting for this? Hoping for it, this entire year? He looked around the room, looking for something he could comment on, anything interesting that he could say.
She saved him from himself. "Why here?"
"It's the only place that's quiet, and where no one would accuse me of plotting mischief, if they found me. Especially at late hours." Percy fiddled with his robes, and stared fixedly at the wall. "Why do you go here?"
"To figure out what I'm going to be, and what I have to do. It's all here." Penelope gestured to the awards, the plaques, the trophies.
Percy's gaze followed the sweeping motions of her hands. "You want your name etched on a plate somewhere?"
Her laugh again. Louder than what people would consider proper, decorous. "Sure. Something solid to show that the time I spent here wasn't entirely worthless."
"Excuse me?" Percy said, disbelievingly.
"You're not Muggle-born." He nodded uncertainly. "Well, then. Not all Muggle parents are happy with magic in the family. Like mine."
"And having your name here will make things all right with them."
"Maybe. But even if doesn't make things all right with them, it'll make things all right with me." The corners of her mouth drooped a little as she ran her hand lightly across a silver loving cup. "Or at least, make things easier when I go home."
"Give you a hard time of it, do they?" She jerked her head up sharply. "What would you know about it? Your family's as pureblooded as it gets."
"Even purebloods have their odd ones out," he said, almost too low for her to hear.
Almost.
"And in the Weasley clan, that would be you, wouldn't it?"
He laughed dryly, and shrugged. "Well. Someone has to be. What about the Clearwater clan?"
"No odd ones out. Just a bright shining hope that wasn't the kind of bright they were wishing for." She straightened herself up, made for the door. "Why don't you write to me sometime? Keep us from going insane over our families. Cooped up with them the whole summer. All that heat can drive one crazy."
And she was gone.
TBC