Living

Author's notes: This is an idea I've had in my head for a long time now, and after the new book I decided it was time to let it out to play. I will be writing more, regardless of whether I get reviews and with no concern for whether people like it or not. I will also be writing when I feel like it, and I solemnly swear not to update by any sort of reasonable schedule. (That said, anyone who takes the time to type this out and set it out here for you to read loves to know that other people are, indeed, reading it, so all reviews will be graciously accepted and read, and probably saved, even if they do consist mainly of "Who do u think u r? U sukkz!" So yes.) Per request, the text has been re-formatted. Oh, and I hereby disclaim these characters- they aren't mine and the odds are about a billion to one that they aren't yours either.

*About the only thing one can do in times like these, he mused, was to adapt. That or die. So far, Percy had kept a pretty good record of not dying, so he figured, all in all, that what he had to do was simply go on living.*


I don't know why I feel so tongue-tied

Don't know why

I feel

So skinned alive
~radiohead

****home.****

The sun finally made its way through the window and across the room to fall across Percy's eyes. Funny, he thought, how it always made such an effort to interrupt one's morning sulk. No matter how one slept, or where one's head was positioned in the morning, the ignorantly blissful sunshine managed to fall into one's eyes. Funny, also, how it never happened to hit the yellowed and withering geraniums one had planted in the flowerbox just outside the window. The poor things were rather terminally ill.

Of course, Percy could sympathize. He rolled out of bed and padded quietly to the bathroom. Yes, he thought, staring dully into the mirror. Yes, I can indeed sympathize. He surveyed his face, leaning in closely to catch the details that were blurred any distorted without his glasses. His cheekbones stood out sharply above the hollows of his cheeks. They were accented even more by the deep purple half circles under his eyes, which contrasted rather fabulously with the unhealthy alabaster of his skin. He sighed, wishing vaguely that the freckles that graced most of his other brothers had decided to blot their way across his face too, but no such luck. Like his mother, sister, and oldest brother, he had that ridiculously flawless skin that redheads (at least, those who weren't walking connect- the-dots) were prone to. His hair, however, was not quite living up to family legacy. It fell limply across the top of his head, without even the decency to stick out in all directions as any self-respecting bed-head should. Still, the brilliant red was undeniable. He had toyed with the idea, not all that long ago, of charming it a different color, perhaps a nice, inconspicuous brown, but had quickly decided against it. After trying it at home, experimentally, his owl Hermes had flown right past him twice without recognizing him. In the hustle and bustle of the Ministry, he would be completely lost. Without his fiery hair no one would even know he was there.

He stared himself down, directly into the eyes, as he picked up his toothbrush, but found that he was barely able to hold his own gaze. He really was positively one of the last people he wanted to confront just now. As he turned to exit the bathroom he clicked out the light and picked up a worn and fraying towel that may, in a previous life, have been blue. He carefully wiped his face before dropping the towel in a growing pile of laundry that would soon begin seriously demanding attention.

He looked vacantly at the light switch by his bedroom door before deciding that the half light of the morning was enough to dress by. He'd gotten used to eclectricity much more quickly than he'd expected. His flat, a muggle flat, was all that had been available on such short notice. Still, it wasn't too bad. At least he could apparate and did not have to worry about connecting the aged fireplace, measuring about three feet by three feet, into the Floo network.

In any event, the place was a bit bare for his liking. At home there had been a perpetual mess, peacefully co-existing with his mother's perpetual cleaning. The tidiest he could remember it being was in just the last year, when he'd lived there with only his father and mother. And then, before that, his dorm room had had a comfortable, lived in look that he could take absolutely no credit for. His side had always been pin-straight, but Oliver more than made up for that. He'd apologized quite a lot for the mess in the seven years they'd lived together, but Percy hadn't minded. Oliver must have known because he never put more than a half- hearted attempt into cleaning, despite all the apologies.

Percy genuinely missed those days, but then, we all had to grow up sometime, didn't we? He sighed again. He ventured out of his bedroom into the adjoining room, looking for his shoes. He scanned the austere space. Under normal circumstances, he would have at least had a photo of his family in the sitting room. However, these were not normal circumstances and besides, the sitting room appeared to have melded with the kitchen, leaving him without proper room either to cook or to have decent furniture. (He supposed he was lucky enough to even have the tatty green sofa he'd found in a local secondhand shop, despite the fact that is clashed badly with the chipping pink paint that so festively adorned his walls.) Really, he didn't care. He only came here to sleep.

He found his shoes where he had left them, sitting beside the entry door, and slid them on. Picking up his small briefcase, containing inestimably important papers, he stepped into the middle of the small room. Gathering up what was left of his strength and self control, for it was undoubtedly going to be a long and trying day, Percy pocketed his wand and took a deep breath.

"Apparecio!"

~~~~
So yeah. Hope everyone had a nice flight. Bye-bye! Buh-bye now!