Side Effects

Author: Adrienne Wolter (catsncritters).
Summary: A potion's accidental side effects were passed down an ancient bloodline for centuries, before they reached the one that needed them.
Rating: R, now. This is the chapter that gives that meaning. Please heed my warning.
Warnings: If you've read this far, you know that there's HPSS slash and I shouldn't need to warn you again. Rating is now R, so please do not disregard it.
Reviews: Very much appreciated, but not required. If you have confusions I will try and resolve them by answering you in the next chapter.
Archive: This is archived here, and on my own site. If you'd like to archive elsewhere, ask first.
Noted: Another lengthy chapter. Things are explained, things are beginning to get fixed (but the story's not nearly over! Muahaha!), people are happy. Next chapter, they get back to Hogwarts! Please check my note on the last chapter if you read it before I changed it. Now all the Marauders are Gryffindors. I agreed with the people who didn't like where I'd placed them, because really, I don't want that to be a focal point of the story.

Wow! Lots of response for that last chapter. I was surprised. O.o

bigi - You were right!

silver-sunn101 and StolenDreamer - Harry cannot feel anything from the potion because it was passed down in Severus' ancestry, not Harry's. Sorry if that wasn't very clear. :)

-Chapter Six-

Two days had passed, and Harry saw no trace of Percy; it was now Saturday on the final day of August. The Burrow was a busy mess of people apparating in and out, Order members popping in for lunch or in amiable greeting, and the teenagers who currently attended Hogwarts gathering their belongings and packing.

Through all this, however, the Gryffindor had in no way forgotten the scene that had greeted his eyes on Thursday evening. In fact, he'd been hovering outside of Percy's doorway, trying to come up with the will to knock, and yet he'd found it impossible. There was nothing to say, there was nothing to ask... it was laid out before him whether he liked it or not.

And here he was, standing there yet again, the third or fourth time, staring at the door and willing Percy to come out of his hole and rejoin the world.

The last year... had changed him. It was the only plausible reason, and really, it was quite obvious. Someone had been beating him, someone–

–Unless he was doing it to himself?

Harry's shoulders slumped forward and he stared at the door. That could be it.

No it couldn't. That just doesn't how Percy was–unless he had pretended all of his life. He wouldn't do that to himself though...

He didn't glance to the left at the sound of someone going into a door down the stairs, but he swallowed and waited until he was sure whoever it was had left the hallway. Then, before he could battle it out in his head like the previous times, he rose his right hand and wrapped his knuckles on the door.

The door opened immediately, like Percy had been waiting for him.

He had.

"Took you long enough," the redhead murmured, gesturing inwards and closing the door with a snap. Since Percy had actually answered and wasn't acting at all like he thought he would, he let himself be herded inside, utterly confused. The man stretched, and took a seat on the bed carelessly, long gangly legs in his black pants folded in front of him indian-style, fingers put together in the shape of a triangle. He was waiting for Harry to say something.

Something wasn't right. He wasn't acting subdued at all... he was acting... companionable? He even had the tiniest of wry smiles, as if everything up to this point had been some sort of stupid joke.

"Er. What's going on?"

Harry knew it was a too-vague and idiotic question to ask even before the three words had left his mouth. He clarified.

"Why're you acting–"

The smile disappearing, he shrugged. "Was kind of hoping that since you came back you weren't disgusted with me like they are."

"I'm not!" the boy told him, sinking into the desk chair. "Confused, maybe, a bit mad at whoever... did that to you–"

"No," Percy told him, eyes sinking to the floor, and Harry saw the gloom return to his face. "You're disgusted. You can say it."

Green eyes flashed in frustration, and he crossed his arms, a motion he'd seen Percy do so much in the past. Now... whenever he crept downstairs during the day, this summer, he'd had one hand across his chest, awkwardly gripping the other elbow, knuckles white. There were no more proud actions to Percy now, except for the few seconds during which he had almost seemed like an older, carefree Ron. No, Percy had certainly changed... and Harry knew it was wrong. He would do everything he could to fix it. He knew it wasn't his problem, but somehow it was. Percy just wasn't Percy anymore, and something about that was just so... not right.

"I'm not disgusted by you, Percy." He fought to keep his voice even, to not jump into questions. "I just–" he stopped, and shrugged, throwing his resolve to the wind. "Who did it?"

The eyes stayed lowered, and Harry knew that the man was battling out whether to tell him in his mind. His eyes flittered to different places on the floor as he thought, which the boy watched carefully. When he'd decided, he sighed, and started, in the most monotonous voice anyone could achieve.

"When I was appointed to Junior Assistant of the Minister, I was sure that it was because of the ability Crouch told me I showed while working under him. I was excited, and I was proud of myself, because I'd gotten promoted, in two years, further than my father ever had. I came home, full of this excitement, and announced it to the family–but instead of congratulating me, they automatically jumped to the conclusion that I was spying for the Ministry, that I would betray them for my own ambitions." His eyes met Harry's for a few seconds. "I'm not a Slytherin, Harry. I never wanted to be."

Harry nodded. "I know."

"So I left. There had been so many things that bothered me about my family–I worked so hard to be a role model for my younger brothers, but they never did follow the example. But that was okay, because everyone liked Fred and George, and Ron was friends with Harry Potter. How could I top that?"

Harry felt an odd sort of twist in his stomach at that.

"I left. I bought a small flat near the Ministry, and threw myself into my work. And Fudge–"

"Oh my god," Harry said, frozen in his seat as Percy choked. "It was–Percy–oh my god–"

Managing to control his speech again, silencing the sputtering boy, Percy closed his eyes and continued speaking in the flat voice he'd used at first. "Fudge baffled me. He went through times when no one at all understood him–there were times when he barked out orders like he was raving mad. Sometimes he trusted me with important information. And sometimes he acted as though I had somehow failed him, as if I had some secret unspoken duty to fulfill that I'd never known about." He paused momentarily to wipe at an eye, though he'd not been crying. "Turns out, I was supposed to be a spy. And when I finally told him that I'd moved out and gotten my own flat, he got terribly angry. So he slapped me. But that was just where it began. Throughout the year, he brainwashed me, obliviated me countless times. I still don't think I have all of the memories he took away from me. He continued... abusing... me. Then, in June, he punched me in the face," the man pointed to the now almost entirely faded bruise on his cheek, "and it shattered all of the obliviations, or something."

His eyes went up once more to see Harry's expression. "I told you that you'd be–"

"Percy," Harry said, very firmly. "I'm disgusted by Fudge, not you."

There was a second that stretched into half a minute where neither moved, then Percy shrugged. "Thanks."

"Have you told your family yet?"

"No... but I know the twins have suspicions."

"I'll talk to them."

Percy looked horrified. "No! You can't–you won't–"

"I'm not going to tell them anything you just told me," Harry insisted. "I going to make them give you a chance. Don't you dare say that there's no hope in it, because I've been surrounded by Weasleys for more than five years and if there's anything I know about them, it's that they have a very strong sense of family. They can forgive you, Percy."

And slumping his shoulders, Percy shrugged. "Okay."

After a few minutes of talking about small things, Harry left, dragging Percy downstairs with him, for dinner. The others present didn't really acknowledge his presence, although Harry had seen Mrs. Weasley shoot a few grateful glances in his direction.

-scene switch-

Harry caught up to the twins in the hallway after dinner.

"We need to talk."

Fred looked at George, and before George could protest, said, "Okay." A glance was shot between them–Harry had a strange feeling that they were communicating with a look–and then all of them shuffled into the twins' room. Edging around a box full of unidentifiable sweets, Harry leaned against the dresser, George sat on the desk chair, backwards, and Fred stretched out in the bed. It was almost giving Harry an odd sense of before... a year, maybe two, ago, this situation would be so carefree and welcoming. Now, it was with a quiet tension that it was approached.

"This is about him, isn't it?" George asked finally, impatient.

"First of all, he is your brother, and his name is Percy." The twin stiffly shrugged. "And yes, this is about Percy."

"Then get on with it, we were going to work on our raincloud candies." Harry blinked, and he switched to advertisement mode. "Feed one to someone you don't really care for, and watch a realistic raincloud follow them around, raining on only them with real sound effects–lasts up to four hours–"

"George, give it a rest."

It was Fred who had spoken, and he tucked his arms behind his head. Harry, taking the silence as his cue to continue, cleared his throat and stumbled into what he was going to say.

"Percy's just told me some things that happened in the past year. You really don't understand the half of it, George. He needs the support of a family, or he's never going to feel welcome anywhere. Please give him a chance."

He had a moment to reflect on the fact that it sounded more like a plead than a demand before George replied.

"Why should he feel welcome anywhere?" he wrinkled his nose up. "If he hadn't been so proud of himself, maybe he wouldn't have gotten himself in a fix like that anyway."

"George–" Fred warned.

"Fred," George replied sarcastically, head turning towards the bed. "He doesn't want a family. I'm going to let him have what he wants."

"You know as well as I do that Harry's right–he needs some attention that's not so negative–"

It had turned into a verbal battle between the twins. The green-eyed boy had never seen either so angry at the other; they'd always been two to do the same things, make the same decisions, and they'd never fought between themselves in Harry's presence.

And this was so wrong. Could they not see that they should value their family while they still had all of it?

Anger flared up inside of him in an instant.

"–Won't be good for any of us," Fred was saying.

"Merlin, enough!" Harry stopped leaning, but stayed rooted in his place. Both twins looked up at him. "You have a family! I'm sure you won't understand it until it happens, but you'll see soon if you continue to act like you can just choose to be against another family member–this is a war we're in. Value your friendships and your families while you have them! I've never had a family, George! And for the brief time that I did, Sirius was locked in the prison of his own house, I hardly got to see him, and then he died. You have so much more than I ever had! Please don't keep talking of it like it's nothing!"

The desired effect of silence greeted this.

"Here's your chance to patch up your family. Take it, and then in twenty years when you spot how it could have gone wrong, be glad you did."

Now mentally exhausted, Harry flung himself backwards so he was leaning against the dresser again, arms crossed.

George looked between Harry and his twin, silent, face gloomy. "Right then. Guess I'll go talk to him." He stood, leaving the room and heading up one flight of steps without another word. Harry had been so focused on watching him go that he hadn't noticed Fred coming up to him until he was crushed in a hug.

"Thanks, Harry," Fred said, knocking into the cauldron with his foot on the way out, pausing, and throwing some of the sweets inside to Harry, winking before he left.

Smiling to himself, Harry pocketed the candies, stopping in the doorway, watching Percy let the twins pass into his room, pausing for a moment to stare down at Harry, and give the smallest of smiles back.

Then the door was closed.

-scene switch-

Students come tomorrow, Harry told him, appearing beside him in bed. You ready?

"Of course I'm ready," Severus said out loud, but to the vision, it was I think so.

The green-eyed teen smiled at him, and he shrugged back, turning back to continue unbuttoning his shirt. It had become so much of a ritual that the vision didn't startle him anymore; the fingertips lightly brushing through his hair had become something he was very much used to and not always aware of. He tossed the dress shirt across the room, where it folded on top of his pants. Lying in bed, he turned away from the boy, and felt arms around him, a shaggy head of hair nuzzling into his neck.

Truth was, he didn't know what would happen when Harry got back. The possibilities, and how Albus was acting scared him. He didn't want to change–he wanted to stay in this same-old bliss for–well, he'd never thought about it. Would he teach all his life, become a ghost, and have to teach forever? The thought alone was enough to make him shudder. He would settle down someday. Alone, married, whatever.

With Harry? That was the scariest thought of all.

Good night, the vision said, words thick with a yawn.

Good night, he returned, leaning back into the embrace the tiniest bit.

-scene switch-

Harry made his way up the steps, up to the room that he was sharing with Ron. The distant clanging of dishes washing themselves was heard, and a murmur of Percy's voice floated under the door as he told the twins his side of the story. Another flight of stairs, and he was at the top, knocking on the door and entering.

"Hey, mate, we were just packing," Ron explained, short of breath, with his school supplies everywhere but in his trunk. Hermione had a matching expression, face flushed.

"Uh huh," Harry told him with good humour, opening his own trunk and lining up the books inside, which had somewhat tumbled around. "Likely story."

Hermione let out a giggle, leaving the other two to whip their heads around to look at her, surprised. "You don't mind, do you, Harry?" Ron sputtered at her words for a second, then turned back to him, ears red.

"Nah," he told them, grinning. "Have fun. It's a relief that you two have finally made up."

There was a moment of tension, until Hermione waved it off. "That was stupid anyway."

The rest of the evening was spent happily, as they chatted about unimportant things while packing their trunks. Harry went to bed happily, anticipating Hogwarts.