Disclaimer: This was written at 2:30 AM on insomnia-induced boredom and French vanilla ice cream. So it's not my fault if it sucks.
"You can't keep me here forever." It was a threat in words only, empty of all real power in denial that Percy could do whatever he wanted—but it was still a threat and that was good enough for Ron. The taste of a few bitter comments on his tongue was priceless. Percy would never seriously believe the promise, not consciously, but it would eat away at him in its repeated annoyance until he cracked. A tactic discovered by Fred and George earlier in their lives and eventually passed on to Ron, one that proved nearly infallible. Only, he couldn't be sure he was doing it correctly. What was the correct tone of voice? The rhythm? He awaited the deciding reaction from Percy, hoping he had inflicted something other than the pathetic arrogance of a spoiled child.
Percy sat cross-legged on the floor near the now-roaring fire, amazingly balancing himself wit the correct level of the floor, a far distance from Ron's hide-out in the ceiling corner. His eyes were closed in concentration, and he muttered to himself, all part of a weird habit he had, his position of deep thought. Ron just thought it annoying. What kind of idiot sat around talking to himself?
"I know you're ignoring me," he said. "Just to let you know, I can talk on and on and on. I'm really good at it."
Still no response.
"Bloody hell," he murmured. "Percy, I just swore! You're supposed to tell me off!"
Nothing. Ron swore again. Was he really that bad? Fred and George would have had Percy screaming after them in an instant. With a sigh he turned his attention on the rest of the common room.
It was far too crowded for his taste. Why was no one in class? Older students sat in the armchairs, talking or perhaps playing some game or another, while many of the younger students chased each other around, shouting. Obnoxious little first-year midgets. Dean, Neville, and Seamus sat together, quietly talking. Was it about him? He found himself hoping so. As long as they didn't start crying. Hermione and Harry were nowhere to be seen.
The portrait hole swung open in a single blast, and in came a blur of red hair racing through the room, barreling into a group of first years and darting past them and up the stairs to the girls' dorms without an apology.
Ron stared after the girl, mind blank. Ginny, came the hesitant realization. And she was upset. His big-brother instincts kicked in, and he sped down. What had happened?
He reached the landing just as the sixth-year girls' door slammed shut. "Ginny," he shouted. He moved toward the door.
He had forgotten about the barrier.
He ripped himself away from the electric surge, cursing. How could he have been so stupid? Good thing that Jillie wasn't around to mock him. He slunk back to the common room, static still coursing through him.
Neville and Seamus still watched the stairs—Dean made an obvious attempt to ignore Ginny. Why hadn't any of them attempted to comfort her? Dean had dated her, for crying out loud.
Ron pushed down his hair and made his way toward the fireplace. "Percy—"
"What?!" Percy sprang to his feet, eyes blazing and the crackling flames visible through him. "Now what?! What insufferable comment do you have to make now?"
Ron jumped back. "Are you still on that?"
"I'm trying to think and all you can to is hang up there and whine. So what? Just say your last thought and shut up!"
It was interesting to watch Percy's silver features flush in rage, the same rage Ron had been trying to ignite. If only Fred and George were around to witness. "I was just going to mention Ginny."
"Ginny? Have you been bothering her, too?" Percy turned his gaze past Ron, evidently searching the room for Ginny.
"She just ran upstairs crying, which you would have known if you had been paying attention."
"I was trying to ignore you."
Ron stared at him in wonder. "Just forget it," he finally said. "You don't even care."
"Of course I care," Percy replied haughtily. "I'm her brother."
"You sure don't act like it."
His face paled, leaving his eyes as contrasting dark slits, a visage too much like the stereotypical ghost. "I don't have to act like you do." His voice softened into inauspicious.
Ron refused to be put off. "Then how do you act?"
Percy studied him, eyes loosing their intensity, before throwing up his hands with an irritated sigh. "I can't even remember where this conversation came from. Why do you even care?"
"Ginny," Ron repeated.
"Ginny." The name seemed foreign from Percy's mouth. "So she's upset,. And you can't figure out why. You just died. Does it amaze you so much she's grieving a little?"
"Of all the—" Ron bit his tongue against the all the things he suddenly couldn't remember to say. "Like I said, forget it. You have to clue. You haven't seen Ginny in two years." He turned.
"What makes you so certain?" Percy asked, barely audible.
Another almost-threat. The question battered itself like a fly against Ron's mind, but he didn't have the patience to consider it. So he batted it away. "Because you suck." It was more than worth it to watch Percy's fury return. No wonder Fred and George had enjoyed teasing him so much.
He returned to his corner, mood much improved and surveyed the common room with some remote satisfaction. The first years had resumed their chaotic brawling and Dean, Neville, and Seamus had returned to their conversation. He considered eavesdropping, an idea that was quickly forgotten when the portrait opened again.
It was Hermione and Harry.
One huge Silencing Charm might as well have been cast over the room. Neville nearly slipped from his chair and one of the first years skidded into his friend, sending them both sprawling. Even Percy looked up from his thoughts, mouth slightly open in an expression Ron couldn't think to recognize. As it was, he only wasted a mere glance on Percy; Hermione and Harry were much more important.
Harry still hadn't changed from the prior night. Crusted dirt and blood clung to his tattered clothing, several decent scratches patterned themselves across his face, and his hair was at once both matted and disheveled. Disgusting. Couldn't he break from his misery long enough o take a shower?
Hermione had made an attempt to look her best. She had never looked prettier, Ron thought suddenly. If only she were smiling.
Yet, despite everything else, it seemed so natural that Hermione and Harry would walk into the Gryffindor common room. So natural a thing that the tense berth like an iron claw raking a path for them through the students was a mirage with no power over the idea. It was a dream. Just one terrible dream that would easily be over. . .
"Harry!" he heard himself call. "Hermione!" He didn't expect anything, but the names had slipped out.
"They can't hear you." Percy, of course.
"Shut up, I know that."
"Then why are you talking to them?"
Percy actually expected Ron to respond. All his talk of not speaking—the hypocrisy was too much. Ron stuck out his tongue and joined Harry and Hermione in the corner.
". . . I guess she just ran up here," Hermione was saying. "She's probably in her dorm." She sighed and flicked a curl from her face. "Maybe I should go up and talk to her, the poor girl."
"Maybe she'd rather be alone," Harry replied. He was not watching Hermione—his gaze drifted out beyond her, seeing nothing.
Ron half-wondered if Harry could see him standing there. Hesitantly, he drew back. The awkwardness of the situation was clear to him, but he couldn't deny the devious pleasure of listening in.
"Perhaps you're right," Hermione mused. "But even so, I don't think she should."
"She didn't want to talk to us. Or Luna."
"Harry—"
"Maybe she just doesn't want to talk to me."
A growl escaped Hermione's throat as she tore a pillow from the chair and squeezed the soft material between her fists. "Harry, don't you dare say that! Ginny doesn't hate you, and she doesn't think you killed Ron."
Ginny thought Harry killed him? Ron thought, shocked.
Harry didn't so much as flinch under Hermione's display. "How do you know? Have you spoke with her recently? Had a little heart-to-heart?"
The pillow didn't seem likely to survive her until she threw it safely at Harry. With all the instinct of Quidditch he put up his arm, ricocheting the pillow at Ron, who screamed as it sailed right through his stomach.
"Don't talk like that." Her voice dropped to a hiss, smooth and painful. "Don't you dare talk like that. I know you're grieving, but let me tell you that a lot of other people are grieving as well. Ginny heard what happened, she knows it to be true. So stop acting like the world is against you."
Harry sunk deeper into his chair, glowering.
"You are being rather whiney," Ron muttered.
For a long time neither spoke. Then Hermione wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"It's okay," he said. "You're probably right."
She forced a smile and wiped her eyes again. "But I don't think she could hate you after all these y ears she had that crush on you. Sorry. This isn't the right time."
Harry only shrugged.
Ron almost laughed. So his sister still harbored feeling for his best friend.
"I think it might have been better if she had gone home last night with her parents," Hermione continued in her effort to keep the conversation alive.
"They invited us, and we didn't go."
"Yes, but Ginny is Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's blood daughter. Harry, if you just made her talk with you. . "
Why didn't Harry?
"Later," he replied, forced effort in making himself believable.
She shook her head and grabbed another pillow, but didn't press him further. "I received a letter from them this morning. The funeral will be the day after tomorrow." Her voice twisted in the end, and she quickly buried her face in the pillow. "Harry, I can't believe this."
What funeral? Ron thought wildly. The thought of the spider-filled dirt suddenly returned.
The remotest semblance of sympathy spread over Harry's face. "Hermione," he leaned over and patter her arm. "It'll be all right."
She sniffed. "Thanks." Only a pause separated her next phrase. "No, it won't! How can you be so stupid as to think that?!"
Harry stumbled back, shocked. "I thought. . ."
"You're so unbelievable."
"I didn't mean—" Panic was setting in. Clearly he hadn't expected that. "Um. . . I'll just go take a shower now."
She nodded, forcing back tears. "I think I'll go get my homework." She rose to her feet, tossing the pillow through Ron, and hurried up the girls' stairs.
Harry and Ron watched her for a moment, and then Harry left, inducing another short of era of silence before sporadic, nervous talking returned.
"You will be attending your own funeral, won't you?"
Ron screamed and whirled around. "Percy!"
Percy had left the hearth and, judging from the secretive smile he wore, had heard the end of Harry and Hermione's conversation. "Well, are you?"
"Did you attend yours?"
A pause. "I really didn't have one to attend."
Ron gave a short laugh. "Good for you. So the wonderful and pompous Percy didn't have the glorious send-off he deserved. I'm sorry your precious Minister failed to come."
"Ron—"
"No, I won't be going to my funeral. It's morbid. I hate funerals."
Percy's mouth twisted upwards in a small smile. "Ron, it's rude to not attend an event in your honor."
He made it sound like a banquet. "That's exactly why I'm not going." Percy wouldn't understand. He hadn't seen it, everyone crying, his parents. Hermione and Harry were bad enough.
Percy moved to speak, certainly something nasty, but then seemed to change his mind. "Fine. I'll go."
"You can't—" Percy was suggesting a nightmare. All these people that Ron cared about—then Percy, not shedding a single tear. "But. . . but I'd have to come along, too."
"That's the idea. Think. We're given three days apart a year. I'll just take one of those days for the funeral."
"You'll be gone." Percy gone so soon for a whole day.
He gave a smug grin and kicked at one of the thrown pillows. "Unless you'd rather join me that day, of course."
"No," Ron replied quickly.
For the first time, something was going to go right.
SHOUT-OUTS!
To everyone who wonders about Percy's death: I'll tell you eventually, but I got the idea from "Angels Don't Knock" by Dan Yates…. So if you wanna read that, it might give you a clue.
Awkward: Hmm…. I was kind of doing Nick on the fact that he does get irritated in the books and I wondered how far I could push him. Thanks for that analysis, though.
Crystal Lightenign: Yay! patiently awaits stories
Db: You wanna see them have it out? Hmm…. That might be fun!
Duj: Thanks!
HiddenFlame42: Thanks for all the reviews! Let's see…. Jamie McFly is actually my sister…. And I'm glad you're not surprised it was Percy who did the spider thing (I really wouldn't put it past him.)
Hydraspit: Oh…. Fanfiction is terribly hard to write. curses it Can be quite hard to get all the info out there. I wanna read a fic by you!
Icy Dragon Claws: Nick is kinda fun to write. And Percy rocks!
Jamie McFly (on my account!) Yeah, it was a good movie! All my roomies want to see it!
LJ Fan: Oh… I hope you've recovered from your cold by now. Thanks for your comments!
Written in Stars: Wow… you have their availability all ready… of course he's smitten with me!