Forgotten Pasts

By: sl-sama

"Nandito ako, umiibig sa'yo
Kahit na nag durugo ang puso
Kung sa kalih, iniwanan kan'ya
Wag kang mag alala
May nag ma'mahal sa'yo
Nandito ako..."

The boy's soft soprano floated out of his cell and filled the hallways of the cold stone castle with the bittersweet tones of the foreign song. Echoing hauntingly in the hallways, everyone who heard it couldn't help but relax and close their eyes; allowing the song to wash through them. Even the senior Deatheaters--hardened warriors who had learned to kill in cold blood if necessary--couldn't help but allow the pure tones of the ballad to wash over them, cleansing their souls with its purity.

The peaceful air was one that everyone enjoyed and, indeed, Percival Augustus Weasley--over the month or so in which he had resided at Tom's castle--was eager to provide. The boy even seemed to have an endless amount of singing material in every language available and, if he didn't know a requested song, his captor—now friends—were eager to teach him.

It was odd that they did, but then again Percy was Percy. True there weren't many famous or powerful figures in his lineage, but he had been gifted with a rare power, and had unconsciously developed the charisma that those with power controlled. No one he knew was immune to his charm, not his brothers, not the Deatheaters, not Tom. Even so, his control was still unconscious—he was just himself. It didn't take too long for him to be on first name basis with many of Tom's supporters, Tom, and Voldemort himself.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled at his attention, and he broke off his song to greet the man standing just outside of his room.

"Lucius!" He cried with a bright smile before running up to hug the man who had, over the past two months of captivity, become more of a father to him than his own. The man allowed himself a fond smile for the bright boy before scooping Percy up in his arms. For a moment they just looked at each other then, in an uncharacteristic display of emotion, the blond aristocrat held the boy tightly as he closed his eyes with remorse.

"It is October 19 Percival, and my master calls for you."

The aristocrat's tone was flat and dead as Percy reached out with a cool feeling of understanding and unwavering determination. Reading the boy's unspoken demand, Lucius shook his head.

"Tom's gone; you won't receive any mercy."

"I know." The boy's voice was soft and resolute.

"I don't want to give you to him—isn't there another way?"

"Lucius." Percy's tone held a note of warning as the boy felt the shift around them. "Think of Draconis."

The blond scowled when he found himself unconsciously walking towards the exits. With a faint smile, Percy hugged the man.

"Don't worry, we'll keep in touch- I'll owl you in a couple of weeks, when everything is relatively calm again."

The blond didn't question the boy's word choice, knowing full well that he would do nothing to change the fate that Percy had seen and chosen. Tom was gone, and the boy had stolen enough of his heart for Lucius to know that he would not let their sacrifices go in vain. Percy had chosen the fate in which they would all survive, and he would cling to that faint hope to see it through—even if it meant that he had to deliver the boy to Hell's Gates himself.

"Is there anything you don't see?"

The six year old smiled, remembering a previous conversation as he scanned the hall knowingly.

"Bill, Charlie, you, Tom, Harry—the threads are always shifting and the future is infinite."

Lucius Octavius Malfoy laughed bitterly at the reference before stepping outside onto an active portkey. Unbeknownst to the aristocrat, the child smiled over his shoulder secretively—clouded hazel meeting torn obsidian.

Percy sat against the wall quietly, hugging his knee to his chest as he looked over the perpetually busy scenery of Manhattan at twilight. Letting his left leg dangle off the 'balcony'—really the roof of his building, but details—as he gazed into the comforting bustle and idly followed the threads; watching conflicts, resolutions and everything between flash before his eyes. Sometimes he'd go deeper into a conflict, as far as twelve main paths in, investigating might-have-beens and may-to-bes with idle curiosity. Suddenly a thread next to him flashed from its ghostly frame to a more solid beam, so he wasn't too surprised when a familiar presence settled in next to him.

"You were right," The teen's voice was tired and resigned as he rubbed his eyes wearily. "Shacklebolt was more than happy to be given command of a squad."

Percy turned to look at the teen beside him and took in his appearance. Tousled and messy raven-black hair fell into clear emerald green eyes as Heron Jamison Potter continued watching the shadows warily. As he had become accustomed, Percy ignored the black threads swirling chaotically around the Heir; he could not see into the boy's past or future; an oddity, but one he accepted with relief. Harry kept his ability to read people intact. He sighed, but one did not have to be particularly astute to see the exhaustion behind every one of Harry's movements.

There were faint shadows under the teen's eyes, and the boy was leaning against the railing, sitting in the careful manner that indicated that his mental proximity to a breakdown. Even his messy hair looked tired, falling limply into jade eyes that were far too old for a boy of 16.

Ever since the Department of Mysteries, Harry had ended his charade, acting as the mature boy that many of the older years had known, rather than the impetuous front he kept for those in his age group. As always, Percy was unable to help himself when he saw the tired resignation behind the boy's façade, and he pulled the younger teen into a loose embrace. First tensing, the relaxing, Harry allowed the older man to take his weight, feeling Percy's warmth surround him as he rested his head on the redhead's shoulder.

Sensing the younger boy's need for touch, Percy subtly moved them into a more comfortable position. Soon, he was leaning against the wall as Harry lay between his legs comfortably. It wasn't a new position for them, so it didn't take too long before Percy's fingers gravitated towards the head resting on his chest to play idly with silky strands of raven-black hair.

Most of their friends/acquaintances would have been shocked if they saw them. It was a general assumption that the two men disliked touch, so it was a little known fact that they actually craved it. However, the two were cautious in whom they would place their trust; they hardly even allow family to hold them this close.

"I don't know if I can trust him anymore."

The crystalline silence that had enmeshed them had broken; it's shards falling like bloodletting rain in tribute to the harshness of the statement. Oblivious to it, one man listened as the other talked.

"God, 'Civ, if I hadn't already known that they couldn't have the prophecy, I may have caught it, and Bellatrix may have taken it. She's changed too 'Civ, she's nothing like I heard she used to be, but that's not the worst part…He finally told me about Percy, but it was as though he was trying to coerce me…and if he is, I don't know what he's trying to convince me of. It's as though he believes that I left 'his' side of the war."

"But you were never on it."

Harry started, then looked up at his friend, eyes wide with surprise. Percy laughed good-naturedly at the boy's shock, and then leaned down to brush a chaste kiss against the boy's mouth.

"I see all, remember?"

With a sly smile, he then proceeded to thoroughly distract his younger friend by trailing his fingers up the teen's ribs. Laughing helplessly, Harry twisted in the redhead's grasp until he managed to slip out of the older man's grasp and retreat into Percy's condominium once more.

Laughing, Percy followed and the light-hearted mood was what defined the rest of that warm summer evening. Both men were careful to stay away from topics that were still raw wounds, including the attack on Pivet Drive, Thom, Voldemort, Sirius Black, the Weasley family, and Hermione Granger. For that night at least, they were merely themselves, something that they both needed desperately. Finally, somewhere around two am, Harry collapsed into his bed, waving his hand depreciatingly at his friend.

"I need sleep," The boy said with a warm smile as Percy leaned against the doorframe. "But, yeah… Thanks 'Civ… You're mum said 'hi,' by the way."

With a warm smile, Percy watched his friend climb into the bed and yawn widely. Shutting off the lights and slipping out of the guestroom, he slid a pair of wire-frame glasses over his eyes and al but sighed in relief when the silver threads perpetually burning into his vision faded into indistinct shimmers. He stopped by his bar to pour himself a cup of '96 merlot before heading onto his rooftop patio to contemplate his life.

It wasn't a bad one, he and Harry were perfectly safe in New York, and the younger teen was coming along with his studies nicely, but there were still times when he missed England; his family. He still regretted how he had left them, his mother crying, his father still angry with him, and his younger brothers confused. Even now, he had an irrational need to call another meeting, if only to see his older brothers again.

".. Good for nothing traitor! You disgrace the Weasl-"

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts as he brought the glass to his lips once more, but no wine met his lips. Empty? When had that happened?

Shaking his head in consternation, he decided on the next best thing and walked to the outside bar, opening a cabinet and rummaging around until he found the silver case. Opening it, he withdrew one slender cylinder, then snapped his fingers—playing one of the threads of magic that he could see—to light it.

"In case you didn't know, smoking is really bad for you."

Un-startled, Percy took a long drag off his cigarette then turned to his visitor with a slight smile.

"It's been a while Tom."

Clouded hazel met slightly surprised amber-flecked grey eyes. Percy wondered at that, why was his friend so shocked? A slightly pitying smile grew on Thom's face before the man cupped his friend's face gently.

"Oh Cepitaus—you're such a fool. You've forgotten haven't you?"

A slight blush grew on Percy's face—the man had as much charm as himself and Harry, how was he supposed to react? Added to the fact that the man was older, around twenty-six, and quite attractive, Percy wasn't completely in control of his actions. Laughing at what he'd read so truly on the teen's face, Tom then grew completely serious.

"You need to snap out of it Percy, see it through to the end quickly- you have one more left, Voldemort has reached the residence."

Percy's eyes narrowed in confusion--then Tom was gone.

t.b.c.

A/N :swings legs merrily: oh, it's been a while hasn't it? I apologize profusely for that by the way, but it could be helped. Pissed off my mother, got sick, computer crashed, got sick again, then had a few projects to do ;; Well, it's here now…

Oh, and I've decided- two more chapters then I'm going to move on to a quasi-sequel that's centred on Harry. And just so you all know- no, neither this fic nor its sequel will be Percy/Harry…. Because… it just doesn't fit what's going to happen

To those who reviewed, if you come back ;;

Glad you liked it, I'm almost as confused as you all are and I hope you like the coming twist :big innocent smile: