Momentary Illusions

Chapter Two: A Lapse in Judgement

2018

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Girls, listen," Percy, dressed in his still-pressed satin Ministry robes, peered into his daughters' bedroom and frowned. "Our reservation is for eight. That's eight. Not eight-fifteen, not eight-thirty. Not nine, not ten, and not any time after that."

He could see Lucy rolling her eyes. "Yeah, dad, we know," she replied. "It's not exactly Ancient Arithmancy."

"Advanced Arithmancy," Percy corrected as he glanced over at his watch. Seven-thirty-one. They were really cutting it. "What I mean to say is that I'd appreciate it if for once in your life, you're on time. This is an important dinner to me!" He had an exhausted tone to his voice, of many years of not-being-on-time and mind-boggling waits outside restaurants that he had already booked days before. "I'm expecting some… some very important people to attend!"

Molly and Lucy's room was painted a crimson red and was adorned with glossy rosewood flooring with matching dressers, cupboards and cabinets. Their desk had been covered with a lace-white cloth. Their tissue boxes were encased with white faux fur that had multiple lippy stains on it. Their comforters were dark coloured and rose-patterned. Sheer drapes covered their windows, which overlooked the bristling streets of always-on-the-move London. Stuffed animals and vibrantly coloured puzzles and half-used colouring books had long ago been exchanged for cosmetic wands, magazine cut-outs about losing two (or three or four) stones, and expensive yoga mats that had probably been used only once.

"Mols, we have to hurry up," Lucy said lightly. "Dad expects some very important people to attend his dinner."

Molly laughed. "Yeah, I bet the Minister might actually come to this one," she snorted to Lucy, who just laughed. At him, he was aware of that but didn't care. "Remember that dinner where we just had to be on time, just to hear this batty Undersecretary to the Minister lady talk about her extensive crup breeding and collection of impressive glassware? Or that one time that we were so late to that one lunch meet with that freaky department head that like hates dad for not letting him do whatever he wants? Or that one time where we were actually interviewed by Witch Weekly magazine," she sighed dreamily, "But dad had to screw it up by talking about politics? I had my hair in a perfect fishtail braid that day!"

Percy had no idea what he and his daughters had in common besides their last name sometimes.

"Yeah!" Lucy agreed. "Do you remember that time we went out with those airhead Quidditch players? They kept saying their check total was wrong, didn't believe dad when he corrected them, so we ended up paying for all of their food!"

We? Percy thought. Nobody lent him a hand as far as he remembered.

"Isn't this lippy nice? It goes with my eyes. It's so gorgeous. And a change-up from my usual ones!" a change-up? As far as Percy knew, Molly picked out that same red lippy that she always wore. Unless there was some minor shade difference he needed a telescope to be able to see. Honestly, he didn't know why she bothered buying other colours. "Or—"

"Just be on time!" Percy yelled, cutting his daughters off in the middle of their spiel. "That's all I asked for!" He'd planned to have a quick shower, scrub down his body and be into his clothes in less than ten minutes. Whereas his daughters and his wife took more time getting ready than Ginny did at her wedding.

"Yeah, we know," answered Molly with a roll of her eyes. She was in the midst of Choosing the Concealer Battle.

"Yes, but you knew this last time too! And we ended up being two hours late…to an event that involved the International Magical Transportation Corporation!" Percy stressed bleakly. He still couldn't get over the lack of respect his own children had for him. "May I remind you girls that I'm the one that's responsible for the roof over your heads? And I'm the one paying for these expensive organic jams and pastries that you insist you need to have to achieve 'optimal health'? So, the least that you can do for me is not make a fool out of me in public events." He puffed out his cheeks.

"Yeah, you may remind us, dad," Lucy snorted. "Just like you did this morning." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, so what if you pay for the roof over our head and feed us? That's like… our basic rights."

Percy bit back his lower lip. What part of their basic rights included subsidizing a failing candle business led by his daughter? Or buying the most expensive broomstick on the market due to the fact that Lucy insisted she had allergies to the 'cheap' Cleansweeps when he'd never heard of such al ludicrous thing in his life?

"Just. Be. On. Time." Percy finally let out as a final warning. He remembered controlling the whole of Gryffindor was a lot easier than having to deal with his two. He'd rather go back to the days of trying to survive Fred and George's pranks.

At that point in time, Molly had her hair up in hot rollers. Her face was covered in so much makeup that he just about barely recognised his eighteen-year-old daughter underneath. Percy supposed that he might not be the most fashion-conscious man in the world, but he was quite sure that when they'd had dinner last night, her lashes hadn't been so long, full and Acromantula-like. The black frock that she'd chosen to wear on her was tight on her soft, curvaceous body. Percy bit back his lip because the last time that he'd suggested an expansion charm for a frock, she'd been in hysterics for most of the day. Seventeen-year-old Lucy was standing beside Molly, her short hair frizzy and dull. Her face covered with more spots than a dragonpox victim. Molly was dark-haired with full lips and tanned skin, looking closer to Audrey's side of the family than to his. Lucy was freckled, with sensitive skin that erupted into blisters at the smallest irritant. She was already in her a bright lime-green frock that looked like a St Mungo's uniform. She was wearing two mismatched socks.

"Darling," Audrey frostily said from behind him, putting one of her dangly gold earrings in place. "For once, can you just let them get ready without threatening them? They're not Azkaban escapees. They're just a couple of girls that want to take their time getting ready. They just want to look marginally acceptable for your important dinner."

"Yeah," Molly sneered. "Listen to mum for once, dad." She nodded firmly. "We just want to look acceptable! For you!"

Look acceptable? For me? He found that laughable. Why was Molly wearing a frock that didn't fit her and why was Lucy going out in one that looked like she'd pulled it straight out of Luna Lovegood's rubbish pile? But Percy didn't want a fight. He didn't want to risk being any later than he already knew he was going to be, so he said nothing and walked off.

He felt better after a shower. That was, until he walked into his and Audrey's room. Their room was even stuffier than it was outside. It had been so humid that morning that Percy's hair had turned into a carroty frizz. The clock wonkily read seven-forty or seven-forty-one, as grey and blotchy as a flobberworm juice. The room was shoebox-sized, but homely and soothing with cheap golden frames adorning the rice-white walls and heaving stacks of thick-enough-to-warm-a-dragon-egg blankets. There was an impressive selection of tea-stained half-drunken mugs and a mostly finished box of chocolate truffles (Audrey's. Percy so despised ginger).

As Audrey Weasley put on ten layers of suffocating perfume over her slinky black-and-white dress robes, forty-one-year-old Percy Weasley angrily rooted through a pile of crisp white shirts, looking for…well, a crisp white shirt. Look, he wasn't daft. The one he was looking for had that pale-gold stitching that he liked and looked rather dressy.

"Audrey, where's my shirt?" his voice rose desperately, which he realised was a little obsessive and unnecessary.

"Hmm?" Audrey didn't even bother looking back at him. He turned to see her standing by the mirror, putting on an umpteenth coat of mascara. He let out a disgruntled sigh. "Which one?"

"You-you know which one!" Percy replied, which he realised wasn't helpful. "The-the…the one with the brass buttons!"

"Darling, they…they all have brass buttons," Audrey turned to look at him with an arched eyebrow.

Percy huffed. "But they're not the same! These brass buttons are from the 1940s and were a sign of victory after the fall of Grindelwald during the global wizarding wards," he gestured towards the neat stack of bronze buttons on the sleeve of one of his shirts. Gleaming, glistening, proud. He turned to grab hold of another shirt, and with triumph, said, "This belonged to an eighteenth-century goblin that fought during the goblin wars…only sold for a hundred Galleons. A real investment in my book but entirely inappropriate for this occasion." Well, he'd stitched them in to admire them without his daughters thinking he was a nutter. Audrey groaned. Really, that was in poor taste! "And this—hmmph!"

Audrey threw a crisp white shirt over his head. It smelled of rosemary and something-woody-and-honeysuckle.

"Well…" Percy examined the buttons. "Yes, this is exactly what I've wanted," he was pleased. "Thank you."

There was a warmth in the room. He could hear Audrey breathing, in and out, in and out, in and out, slow and controlled. He could hear the quiet ticking of old clocks, the raucous sounds of Molly and Lucy fighting over something-that-wasn't-important-but-would-put-them-both-in-a-terrible-mood, and the sound of his heart, which had been beating loudly into his ears, slowing down. His shoulders slumped, his guarded expression faded, as he started buttoning up his shirt.

When Audrey didn't reply to him, he rolled his eyes. "Audrey?" he watched her pull up her hair. "Audrey?"

"What is it, Percy?" Audrey turned around to see him. Tendrils of dark hair falling in front of her shoulders and a scowl reminiscent of his old dead Potion Masters graced her chiselled features. With a lazy levitating charm, he sent his work shirt into the hamper in the bathroom. "What is it now? Don't you want us to get ready for this important dinner of yours? Don't you think that you should actually let us get ready?" he was sick of her mentioning those two words together in such a condescending manner.

Percy leaned down and raised an eyebrow at him. "I haven't mentioned that in at least fifteen minutes."

She smiled at him. He really began to believe that she was feeling better until she chucked a pillow at him.

"Oh, is that how you're treating me? The Head of the Department of Magical Transportation?" Percy crossed his arms over his chest and then held his head up high. "Oh, I see."

In a rare fit of amusement, he grabbed one of his wife's wrists and pinned her to the bed. He got on top of her, reaching in to brush his hand against her neck. As she squirmed, laughing uncontrollably, she pushed him off the bed. They both came down with an audible THUD, legs entwined, sheets running amuck and rose-coloured pillows started flying everywhere.

Percy looked down. His marginally good mood completely vanished the second he noticed that the top brass button had come off and he was looking for it. "No, no! Those are…I've bought those at a second-hand shop where they were thrown off as junk," then he shrieked in an all-important tone, "They were vintage!"

He climbed in from under their marital bed. He managed to retrieve the lone button, but not before the tips of his fingers had gone numb and his back was entrapped underneath the slippery floor and a heaving mattress. And of course, whilst his head and torso were being pressed by his hefty bed, he could hear his daughter sighing in disappointment. "Dad? What are you doing? Are you, uh…having a stroke?" Molly's voice echoed through the room. "Cause like…we're done."

"He lost his buttons," offered Audrey as an explanation (unhelpfully, Percy might add).

"He doesn't have any buttons to begin with," he heard a snort. Lucy, he surmised. "Dad, we're ready to go." A warmth washed over him every time he heard her talk. She didn't sound like that a couple of years back. Grown. "I guess you're the one that's going to make us late this time." She snickered. "But we were on time! Well… almost."

He heard Audrey sigh. "Speaking of late, I hope we're not staying there for more than a couple of hours," she said. "I have the most massive headache…"

To his absolute surprise, they were about an hour late to their reservation to Mrs Doherty's Fine Dining and Wizard Cuisine. Percy was beyond irritation after nearly two decades of the same behaviour repeating itself. His daughters were whispering to each other about how they wished they didn't have to come, just like every other time that he'd dragged them to a fine dining establishment for a meal that cost him more than his parent's monthly mortgage. Percy fixed his caramel-coloured pinstriped tie and folded it into his brown waistcoat.

A waiter came to them a couple of minutes later, saying they were lucky because they had an unexpected cancellation and led them to a glossy table.

The restaurant was buzzing. The wine was flowing. There was joyful laughter coming from one end of the room. The tables were all lined with fine cloth, and the plates were prettier than his wife's favourite dangly earrings. There was a candle at the table, which didn't really smell like anything at all. Their table looked out onto a lake, which was dark and reflective underneath the moonlight. There were people outside walking, holding hands, and smiling at each other. There was a distant yelp of a crup in the background from the open doorway. The chairs were velvet. The walls were filled with expensive artwork of notoriously well-known painters, of ocean backgrounds with swirly blue and white paint. Waiters brought fresh bread baskets that smelled like they were just taken out of the oven, with some of the yellowest butter he'd ever seen. Percy could barely read the menu, because all he could think about was how he felt like his family was falling apart. Molly and Lucy looked like they were dragged against their will. Audrey was massaging her temples.

"So," Lucy looked like she just wanted to talk about anything and break the uncomfortable silence. "Who's your special guest supposed to be anyway?" she was playing with her watch, already eying the clock when it hadn't even been five minutes.

Percy was fumbling with his tie. "Um… I'll explain after I suppose."

"Percy, what are on about this time?" Audrey piqued an eyebrow at him. "This announcement better not be anything to do with deciding to use all of our money to buy expensive brass buttons to sew into your shirts."

Well, he'd thought about it, but he was too sensible to do something like that. But he had been tempted. After all, why did his daughters and wife get to use his money so carelessly whilst he toiled at work every day? "No."

He feigned looking back at the door, as if waiting for those toothy toddlers that used to run up to him when he came back from work. His wife that used to ask him how his day went instead of just lifting her head up when he walked in these days and then drop her shoulders in disappointment. As if all this time she'd been waiting for someone else to come home.

Molly scoffed. "So… we went out for nothing? Nobody's turning up?" she sighed. "Great."

"Can we leave straight after we eat?" Lucy asked immediately afterwards. "Mum has a headache."

"No, , you numbskull, dad has an important announcement," Molly reminded her. Percy was getting sick of the word 'important'.

Lucy nodded her head. "So… we're leaving right after the important announcement?" did they not know any other word?

Even with the most flowery descriptions in the menu, Percy's appetite was non-existent. He kept glancing back at other tables, with well-behaved families that actually talked to each other. They looked like they might even like each other enough to spend a couple of minutes near each other without a colossal breakdown. In that room, he felt like the least important person there. He didn't feel like Percy Weasley, Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, father of two wonderful girls. He felt detached. His wife looked cross at him. His daughters wouldn't spent more time with him than was mandatory. He was fairly sure that they hated him. And he and Audrey had as much passion as two Inferi living together.

"I…I suppose," Percy answered quietly into his wineglass. He wanted to order water for them all thank you very much.

Just a couple of days back, he was ecstatic. He was a department head. He had a wife and two wonderful daughters. But then he had to spend with George's family, who all liked each other and then he'd come to realise that his life was in ruins. Nobody in his department liked him. His wife barely talked to him. His daughters disrespected him. What a revelation!

"Did you bring any Pepper-Up with you by any chance?" Audrey romantically asked. "I feel like I'm about to die."

Percy rooted through his pocket, where he kept shrunken objects all the time, including a quill with a pot of ink that was sealed so tightly you'd need a dragon just to take off the lid and an empty bottle of Pepper-Up. "Err… no."

"Lovely," Audrey muttered in irritation. "Well, at least the wine would help."

"Yeah," Molly said dreamily. Percy shot her a look. "What? I'm old enough!" He was not buying his daughter wine.

"Maybe when you find a job," Percy answered effortlessly, when Audrey just shoved off as if he didn't say anything and ordered two glasses of wine for them and a fancy hot chocolate for Lucy, who would probably break out within the hour after having it. She was on a dairy-free, gluten-free diet. All it had done was make him skint.

"Oh, she can have some wine, love," Audrey said, as if she was the one paying for it. "She's not your little girl anymore." She peered at the menu. "Ooh, this steak looks rather nice. With some nice potatoes…"

When would his little girl find a job? Percy wanted to ask, but kept his lip zipped.

They ordered expensive food that Percy had no doubt would taste subpar. His daughters asked the waiter about how organic their food was. Audrey finished her steak all in about ten minutes after it was brought. Percy was picking at his salad (of course, they'd brought Audrey the salad first, and him the steak. Why did they always make that assumption?). Percy cleared half of his plate before he felt uncomfortably full. He met his wife's eyes from across the table.

"Watching your figure, love?" Audrey gestured towards Percy. "Or whatever's left of it."

Percy winced slightly as he recalled his younger years when he'd grown a little taller and thinner and his mum had been convinced that he was dying of the consumption. Yes, well, he was getting a little thin for a forty-year-old man, but there was no need for her to be so crass. "I'm not hungry," he said plainly. The salad was the least expensive thing on the menu!

"I wish I could be not hungry," Molly said forlornly. "You're so lucky, dad. Nobody even cares if you're thin if you're a guy." Oh, his mother very much cared if he was thin, Percy digressed. "Nobody cares if you're anything if you're a guy."

"So, why did we go out to eat if you're not hungry?" Lucy asked.

Because he wasn't a selfish, sodding bastard that only thought of himself! he wanted to reply.

"Because of the important announcement that dad had to make," Molly reminded her. "Mood setting. Duh." She hated her wine and ordered a water, which meant that Percy had to drink it. It tasted foul, just like how he thought it would. He absolutely despised all types of alcohol, and his wife knew this. "So… yeah. Important announcement."

"How's your wine, Percy?" Audrey smirked across him from the table.

"Dreadful," Percy muttered, after surviving a couple of gulps. He heard laughter come from another table and saw a seven-year-old girl standing on top of a cushioned chair, leaning into the breadbasket. His daughters wouldn't eat any of the free bread. Too many carbs, but then proceeded to order two plates of chicken pasta in rose sauce… because that made sense.

"So…" Molly gestured towards her almost empty plate. "What were you going to say, dad?"

"Maybe mum has something to say too," Lucy nudged at her and Audrey just flushed.

"What do you mean?" Percy asked, but nobody answered. He could've probably just made a meal with the bread. He was cross at himself. He didn't have money to spend. He didn't want to give any sodding announcement if anything. "Well, if you're so keen on forcing me into saying this…" he straightened himself up. "You need to find a job. Both of you. It has been ages since you've been out of Hogwarts, Molly. You haven't even mentioned going into work. And Lucy…well, let's not talk about failing candle businesses. You're both getting older now and I will not be paying for you anymore. If you want to accommodate your lifestyles, you'd have to find out how to do it by yourselves," he flicked his eyes towards his plate. "I'm cutting you both off. I'm skint as it is and I'm not going to use any of my next paycheck on anything you should be buying for yourselves," to which he'd just earned a glare from Molly and then Audrey rolled her eyes, as if she'd expected him to say that all along. Had they always been liked this, and he was so overworked he couldn't see it? When had they turned into this? He swore that it used to be so much nicer than this.

"That's what you wanted to say?" Lucy shrieked as she got up. "Seriously?"

"Cutting us off?" Molly cocked her head to one side. "You say no to everything we want anyway!"

Lucy shook her head. "And-and it's not like we don't want jobs! We're taking time to find ourselves," she decided to say. "Yeah."

Find themselves? Percy had never heard of a more ludicrous thing in his life. "Mum!" Molly looked at Audrey as if waiting for her to say something. "You can't let dad do this! You…you can say something! About what we talked about!"

Audrey looked a little shaky. "I'll pay for this," was all she said. "I'm so sorry. I'll pay for this." She looked guilty.

That night, when he'd come back home after a disastrous dinner which he ended up paying more than their flat's rent over something he barely tasted, Percy let out a deep breath. He had an appointment with the healers tomorrow (a routine check-up), but he wasn't even he was going to go.

As Audrey was in the shower, Percy rummaged through their room from top to bottom just to try and find a vial of Pepper-Up for her. Instead, he accidentally came across a stack of documents wedged somewhere in her lingerie drawer.

He smoothed it open and realised that they were dated back two years back. Kept up to date. Current. Glossier than the pair of documents that he'd been working on yesterday. And as he read them, Percy swore that he stopped breathing. His whole body had gone numb. Ministry-approved divorce papers. His hands were shaky as he read the terms. When he'd gotten to the end, Lucy's words echoed through his mind. Maybe mum has something to say. And then Molly's. You can't let dad do this! You…you can say something! About what we talked about.

Did his children know about this? Did they all collectively decide that divorcing him was the best thing to do?

He put them back into Audrey's drawer and wandered towards his daughters' room. He felt like he was all of six years old, watching his parents argue. Except he was the parent now, and he didn't even know. He could hear Molly and Lucy talking to each other. Detached girls that seemed to have no idea how much they'd suffered during the wizarding war.

He'd loved that about them, but as they got older, the quirks had turned from sweet to downright cruel. And after listening to them talk a little about being forced to find a job and how unfair it was (not), they'd moved onto talking about how nobody even liked him (not that he wasn't aware, but it was painful to hear) and that all his other nieces and nephews had dubbed him as the least boring uncle. That wasn't news to him, but it was hard to imagine sweet little Rose saying something like that, or perfectly pleasant James, who walked him outside when he left Lucy and Molly over at Harry and Ginny's home. He moved back to his and Audrey's room with a defeated expression.

Yes, their progressive daughter and mother relationship, where Percy was sure that his wife had divulged into their bedtime activities and given full access to any information about that sort of thing. Well, no more. Percy turned to head back into his bedroom. Suddenly, the bedsheet was too untidy. Everything smelled and felt like it had belonged to his wife. There was a suffocating smell in the air and Percy could barely breathe. He took out the papers from the dresser and had signed them officially, even though he had no true intention of divorcing Audrey. He grabbed his Head of Department of Magical Transportation stamp and had decorated the paper until it was inky and bloody. He thought momentarily if he should shred them but decided against it. What had happened to them? When had his family turned into a bunch of bloodthirsty leeches? He'd met nicer vampires. His daughters casually talked about a divorce he didn't know about. How much worse could it get?

Percy loved Audrey very, very much. He loved her as much as he did when he'd married her. He hadn't become aware of any change as far as he was concerned. She'd always cynical and brooding. But he'd supposed that maybe the relationship had run its course. And maybe this was how things were supposed to be.

Why would he attempt to steer a sinking ship? Why would he even try?

When Audrey had gotten out of the bathroom, Percy slammed the paper to her chest. She moved backwards from the shock, hair dry and body slightly damp. "I suppose you wanted this signed," he'd said.

"Percy," Audrey let the papers drop. "Percy, I didn't want this signed! I swear!" she cried. "It…it was all just one big lapse of judgement!" That lasted two years? Percy thought humourlessly.

Percy turned to look at her, he was fuming. His cheeks were red. "What was? Marrying me?" he asked.

"No! I love you!" Audrey looked pale, as she stood there, hair wet and towel wrapped around her body. "That was…it was just…" her voice was trembling. "I wasn't really going to do it. I've just had a few nights where I've said that…"

"Is that what you three talk about when I'm not home?" he'd felt betrayed. Two years, the papers had said. Two years that she'd sent that draft into the Wizengamot. Did you know how much paperwork that that required? Lapse of judgment his arse. "What have you told them? What have you done?" his voice cracked at the end.

He grabbed the papers from the floor, which were now crinkled and pathetic. Then he scribbled some numbers on top.

"Do you have any idea what our daughters are like anymore? Do you know how spoiled they are? How spoiled you are? Do you know what I grew up with?" Percy felt like he was the only one that could see that they'd become so needy. "Because it doesn't sound like you do. Like any of you do. But considering what I've become a portable Gringott's in the past few years, I surely wouldn't leave you without my vault number! So our darling daughters don't have to worry about me cutting them off during our separation! Because isn't that what you wanted? Is that what they're worried about?" he was so angry that he was seeing red. "Is that better, love? Is your headache better now, darling? Do you feel better now that you've gotten rid of me?" he watched Audrey sob violently, and heard his children crying. They had not appreciated a single thing that he'd done for them in the past two decades of their lives! But now, they were sad at his departure?

Well, where was all those tears at when they'd spent the better part of the day making fun of him like he had no emotions? Where were those tears when he'd been begging them to listen to him just for once?

"Percy," she reached over to feel his cheek.

"Don't touch me," he said. "Don't you dare." His lip twitched. "I am not your doormat, Audrey." He was so stunned by this revelation that his wife had genuinely thought about divorcing him, had told his children but had never mentioned it to him. "I know that this may be hard for you to believe, but when I married you, I actually liked you."

"I did too," Audrey shook. "I still do!" he flicked his wedding band on the table. It clattered and bounced off to the floor.

"Please, don't make me laugh," Percy scoffed. "Two bloody years of just thinking about it! But you weren't going to go through with it…how daft do you think that I am?" he turned to leave, feeling like the biggest arsehole leaving his two daughters and his wife sobbing in their flat alone. But just thinking about the events of the evening had been too much for him to bear. It had been the last straw. This had been happening for years. He didn't even know about it. "We've made a commitment to each other. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"It means everything to me," the sounds of his wife crying were too painful for him to bear. "Percy, please."

Percy shook his head. "Everything to you," he echoed incredulously. "Well, I'll just suppose I'll have to think over that."

Why was it so hard for anyone to listen to him the first million times? Why did he bother wasting his breath?

Why did it take so long for him to see what was happening? Percy felt fresh tears fill his eyes. He ducked his head down. Bill's daughter, Victoire, would move the earth and moon with her wand if it made him feel better. Fred, George's son, pretended to be interested in their joke products just so they had something in common. Even Hugo, who was the quietest child that Percy had ever met, liked to strike up a conversation with his father just because he felt like he owed it to him! Meanwhile, all his daughters had done was tease him and treat him like he was a portable Gringott's account. He hadn't even talked to them about anything important in ages. They'd shunned him whenever he tried.

He had to drag his family to a fancy dinner he didn't even like, and they hadn't even given him a second of consideration.

Well, if that was all they saw when they looked at him, then let them have at it!

When he'd left the flat, he felt an emptiness fill him. He had an important meeting scheduled tomorrow, he thought bitterly. And he had no idea where to go. He supposed trudging up at the Burrow was always in style.

"Uncle Percy? What are you doing out here?" he saw Dominique standing there with her hands into her pocket. She was exceptionally beautiful at the ripe age of eighteen. She'd, of course, been working straight out of Hogwarts at an art museum. "Are you okay? You don't look alright." She reached over to feel his shoulder, and he was sick that this was the nicest thing that anyone had told him in months, and it had to come from his niece. "My flat's just around the corner from yours." She moved her hand away, as if she'd done something that she shouldn't have. "Do you want a cup of tea?"