Chapter 3
A/N: Ok i wrote abit of this story before anyone reviewed it. So i am going to take the suggestion that i use other character's pov after i writethis abnormally long chapter down. also i might have a lot of spelling mistakes.
I have a problem.
Charlie's beginning to take charge of my flat. Not that I care. I only occupy two roomsand am rarelyaround anyways. But to step out of the fireplace and to be face to face with not only one but three redheads?
Not that the thought of him entertaining in the flat is odd. But I don't want to be faced with my younger twin brothers. Who've always not so discreetly despise me.
"Hello Percy." This is the end of his greeting as he goes back to discussing whatever it was with Fred and George.
I leave them to it and go to my room. The burning eyes gone away as I close the door. I wonder why Charlie's brought them here. Why they agreed.
Then I remember.
They worked for Dumbledore and will continue to do so.
I have a headache. My job as the Minister's delegate is compiled of doing nothing but listen to the complaints of others on how bad of a job we're doing.
I take out a Sleeping Potion I nicked from work today.
A knock on the door stops me as I tilt the vial to my lips.
"Yes?" My voice is quick and brisk with irritation.
Charlie opens the door slowly.
"I'm going out to Fred and George's for awhile. Do you need anything?"
"No, thank you." Practiced politeness.
"What are you doing?" He's looking at the vial.
"Headache." He's not an idiot.
Yet he nods. " I'll pick up some supper when I come back."
I'm about to say 'don't bother' when he turns and leaves.
My own coldness is different from his.
89898989898
I can be sensible when it comes to putting toxins in my body. Usually it's cigarettes and coffee that I take more than liberal amounts of. Alcohol or else wise I take very seldom and with extreme caution.
I took enough Sleeping Potion to be able to sleep from 4:00 to 8:30. When I awokethe summer sun was still out.
Iwrote something I don'tquite understand, but don't care anyways.
Honesty
If I were truly honest to myself,
I would admitI have a problem
Instead of saying it,
Makethe world my home,
instead of avoiding reality
stop clowning around and laughing
forgetting to do important things
stop buying books to write in
before stopping half-way through
Because I am split between my own dream world
And the reality I'm shut in
But then, if I were honest with myself
I wouldn't be here
I'd have run away
gotten lost
and stayed that way.
-- FallenShateiel (A/N: yes my bad poem)
I don't understand. But these days I think knowledge is overrated.
A knock on the door.
"Percy, are you awake?" I'm tempted to scream 'No!'.
Instead, I sigh and go to open the door.
What's presented to me is alot of greasy food. Charlie even eyes it as though preparing for it to jump.
"I thought of experimenting with something different."
I poke it with my fork. Take some ofthe greenmushstuff. Sniff it then put it in my mouth.
Like a child, I thought gross. Then I thought more clearly and it tasted like overcooked asparagus and brocolli.
Not very appetizing, but I'll eat it.
98989898989898
I have a routine in the morning. Where I smoke a pack of cigarettes, take a shower, brush the hell out of my teeth, then go drink enough coffee to make me sick. Then I leave for work the Muggle way.
After the incident at the Ministry security has made it so that we have to use either Portkey or Muggle transit to get to work. Being a delegate I'm allowed to use Floo Powder on the way home.
I still like to Apparate. Which I do every morning in the hallway and before Charlie showed up, after work. Despite what common beliefpeople share there is no charm against Apparation.
I know this because I tried it at Hogwarts. During the Triwizard Tournament. After the Yule Ball and the encouter I had with Malfoy. I wasn't thinking clearly and I apparated home. It all has to do with the mind and its convictions. I was so messed up that I hadn't even thought subconsciously about the precautions around the school.
I'm sure other people know this. In different ways. That with magic something can be or cannot be. Without also realizing that something cannot not exist but what has never been. Put a thought in existence it can be real.
Something like that. I haven't really felt obliged to think much about that subject.
Arriving at work, I become Percy Weasley.
8998989898
Some would say that I'm an arse for the way I can ignore my father. He's become Head of his own department. Openly friendly with all the well respected aurors. Highing respected for being in Dumbledore's inner circle.
But I cannot let up on this deep resentment towards him. It's because of him that I've become this way. My mother's fault as well. Their subtle praising on how smart I was, dignified, responsible, better I was than all the rest. How easy it would be for me to become the Minister for Magic...
I lead a hollow life because they were ingnorant on how their words effected the talentless me. I wasn't atheletic, was always mistaken for a girl, I'm not funny, too pretty for a boy... I had nothing but intelligenceto cling to.
Yes. I blame them. I'll never be able to forgive them for the lack of laughter in my throat has ever uttered.
Today I meet my father in hte hall with Ron, The Twins, Ginny, Granger and Potter in tow.
Avoid eye contact.
Like an Imperi.
You don't even exist in their world.
So they don't exist in yours.
989898989898
I don't really like Umbridge. She does look like a toad, as everyone claims. I try not to be in her company after I had that daydream where she sicked (did i spell that right?) a hundred evil pink bunnies after me.
I have a habit of drawing things if I'm bored. Today it's Umbridge, typically a toad doing the cha- cha.
I'm personally enjoying this. Before the folder gets thrown down on my desk. It's Ginny.
"Kingsley told me to tell you htat the Minister needs to read this." She looks venomous, like last Christmas.
She used to stare at me in admiration.
As she stalks away I realize that everything changes.
There is indeed a thin line betwenn Love and Hate.
I've crossed it.
Picking up the folder I go off in search of the Minister. Knowing he's probably entertaining the press or yelling at Fudge...
98989898989898
"...THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"
I jump slightly at the volume of the voice. I don't really want to go into the office to deliver. Maybe I'll ask someone else. Pucey, he's always trying to find ways to suck up.
A man with a wooden leg and a gnarled face hobbles out. Mad- Eye Moody... arguing eith the Minister? I move to the side as he goes past not even noticing me. The anger caring off the man is emensing.
I can't help but hopethe Minister's in a good mood.
"Um. Minister, I've been told to give this to you."
He's a man in either his late 40's or early 50's. An ex- auror like Moody with a hobble. Looking stressed and full of problems I realize my own personal strifles are nothing in comparision.
He gestures me to put it on his desk. I do. I'm dismissed without another word being said.
I wonder what's in the folder.
Could it be something to do with the War? Death Eaters? Dumbledore's minions? Things that I wouldn't care about?
I get back to my floor, beginning my desent to my office. Feeling oddly as if people are staring at me. Its a strange feeling, paranioa. But I feel it clearly.
Taking the doorhandle in my hand, I feel a pain in my arm that I cannot decipher. My shriek is girlish, the way I clutch my hand to my chest in a spasm. My eyes are watering more out of shock than the few seconds of pain.
A man of African origins is right behind me. Prying my fingers open. The palm of my hand is red and blistering. With a dark circle writhering under the skin. I see a flash of silver as the auror Shacklebot is going to cut into my hand. Needless to say I flip.
My hand goes out to throw offhis much bigger and strongerhand off of me. Taking my thumb I crush it into the sensitivepart of his wrist with his surprise I free myself and apparate.
989898988
My mind isracing. The scenerio's going through my head are absolutely ridiculous,yet as each momentpassesbegin to see reason. I pass people who starebecause of my lunatic walking and wizardingrobes...
I could go to a Muggle hospital.
But what if its something magic?
I could make a potion.
Yeah, but which one?
Fuck! I don't know.Whichever one works.
I trip. My handsgo flying out to save me. My scream of painwishing me death. The pavementunderneath me, my Pitt of Hellas the pain travels up myhand, armto the sole core of mybody.
I can feel the hands trying to help me. Justbarely.
My pain.
My screams.
Myagony.
89898989898
Ihave a problem.
This time its with the Ministry. In my stupidity I broke the 'no apparation' rule. The facteveryone believed it to be inforced by the same spells covering Hogwarts. My breaking the beliefprobably destroyed alot of theMinistry's reassurance to the public.
Areprimand and twoweeks suspension without pay.Nevermind the factthat Ihad some creature ebbed into my hand. Now I need to figure out what I'mgoing to useasan excuse to avoid my family, Bill's wedding, get Charlie out of my flat. Now, I haveonly one plan whichis to starta fight, a big one thatcould jepardize my livlihood.
Which I don't really want to do.
Another unfortunate thing was after I passed out on the Muggle street. Iawoke in St. Mungo's. Demanded to be let out.
One of my secret fears are hospitals or such things.
After I made my demand very clear and concise, the Healers took a cool defensive presence. Not that I cared. I eventually got my way. As soon as I did, I pushed past Charlie and whoever else was in myflatinto the'unused'bedroom.
Benn locked in here eversince.
The madnessofthis place is very apparent. The dolls, the paintings, every visual insane thoughts I have ever hadaredisplayed infront of my eyes.
I think that everyone can be as mad as the person I tend to be as I'm creating such things. In different ways of course.
Nevertheless, just sitting here with my wits about me, I'm disturbed. Getting to my feet I feel several places crack and groan in my spine. I walk out ofthe room, taking care to close the door behind me. Shuffling to my own room, its nightime and nothing seems to be stiring.
I'm rather thankful about that. To have this time ofnight to myself without having to avoidanyone or anything...
I go tothe cupboard where I've hidden my rather large stash of chocolate...
Yes, I dohappen to have a subscription to both a Muggle andWizard Chocolate club. Not that anyone needs to beaware of that fact.
898989898
What the hellam I goingtodo for two weeks?
I have no plans. No goals.
No life come to think of it...
Not that it would matter much. I'll have to get out more often in order to neglect the fact that Charlie seems to be running whatever the clubs called out of my living room. There's the fact that I show up in the room everything falls dead silent, until I walk out then the murmur of voices starts again.
Very creepy.
So I have to think of what to do for entertainment in hte Muggle world.
So far, all I have is blank. Managed to find some bookstores. And a street called HorseyLayDown Lane... I found that funny. There's a couple of interesting stores I was looking at... the creative black crimson clothing. I could imagine myself in that stuff.
Yet, to radical for my tastes. Even though I did buy a bottle of black nail polish. I kinda like the look of it.
Along with the skull rings. But thats all I'm buying of that stuff.
Though I will be going by the stores again.
8998989
There's a band that plays in an abandoned apartment building. Well, one that should be abandoned by its condition. I like the sound of the bass guitar. The front guitar isn't dominating nor straight forward enough. The drums are too erratically out of control.
A much more shit-faced version of Nirvana's 'Incesticide'
They've invited me in to listen with a couple of 14- year old wannabe kids. The hobo/rock star kids with wheels on the heels of your shoes. Girls looking like young prostitutes. I don't like it, but another thing to keep me occupied.
It's all about looking the part if not talent enough to be. The torn black clothing hanging from their somewhat tall stouty bodies. The deeply darkened eyes, with pale faces and dark hair. Skulls and anarchy symbol, dyed black hair one with blondish dreadlocks... Image only.
They're playing way too slow for a song about loving someone too much until the poison in the wine bottle.
I like the song.
Good enough.
A/N: I'm taking Percy into a different dementia of his personality. I figure since he never was given a chance to experience teenage angst at all it should hit him hard. I was thinking Kurt Cobain merged with Ozzy or A Perfect Circle? Next chapter with be Charlies' POV. It's how he sees Percy.