Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor shall I ever.
Title: Window-shopping
Chapter 4: Table
Notes: Okay so...Percy Angst. Kinda. Really I don't think he's a thing like Wormtail because what he's doing is out of pride. Not for power, okay yeah for power but he'd never join Voldemort he doesn't schedule ANYTHING. :P He went against Harry because he's stubborn and he wants to be different, and he's an ASS. I wanted to make a fic showing you all that he knows what he's missing. This is set after he sends Ron the letter. Fifth book, yeah you all know what I'm talking about.
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It was burnt.
Percy looked at his charred piece of what used to be toast and his very weak tea in his Flat in London.
He looked around his small kitchen. Soon he'd be moving out of here and into a house.
He had learned over the past year that it does not matter if you organize all of your kitchenware alphabetically if you can't cook.
Most of his belongings were boxed up in anticipation for the move. Except for one thing he had decided he'd leave there.
It was a potholder. With a 'P' on it.
As the thoroughly chewed his blackened toast he looked at it.
The early pre dawn light starting to filter in through the window. It was the last object in his flat that had been in contact with his...previous home.
His only home really. He allowed himself to pull a face at the distasteful potholder and drop his piece of half eaten "food" next to it.
He would have to get a table for the house. He would have to buy a lot of things. He'd never had a table in his flat . Not a real table only a small four chair table piled with parchment.
Would he really need a table? A memories assaulted him, heavy, saccharine sweet, inescapable and warm.
Only reparo charms, legs from other tables and luck kept it together. Chairs jammed under it, filled with moving breathing laughing , crying , screaming and mumbling redheads.
Plates broke, scrambled eggs flew, jam was smeared all over it countless times and still it stood since before he could remember. Life worn, scrubbed and wiped after every tragedy of toast crumbs spots of tea and bits of orange juice pulp.
Birthday candles were lit over it, punishments issued, rewards announced . When he was young for a few years he studied with Fred George and for a while Charley and his...their mother, who always made sure they were up to scratch and wrote lesson plans for them.
Ron and Ginny played under that table ...
There was a tapping at his window and he saw the Owl had brought nothing back with him, Percy dismissed him and pocketed the pot holder.
"No...I suppose a table can wait," he thought looking around the empty flat before heading for the fireplace far less enthusiastically than when he'd started.
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a/n: The first chapter for the fic I'm basing this off of ( from here on out shall be called Shikon no go) the first chapter is called ' Dining table'. I think this works. I just Finished the ' Amulet of Samarkand' and the main character reminds me so much of Percy' Arrogance and misguided trust that I had to finish this. He was a real pain to write that frigid repressed git. Man anyway he isn't evil but he sure is a git.