Momentary Illusions

Chapter Ten

Unexpected

Archie St Claire was not what Percy had in mind when he thought of his replacement. When Percy learned he was ill, he knew that he had to be replaced. He had made up a number of suitable replacements in his mind that he thought of springing on Kingsley when he had the chance (and when he didn't have a drainage tube in his abdomen). A part of him wished it would be one of his daughters, but he knew that they'd rather tear their fingernails one by one than follow in his footsteps. But even in his wildest drug-addled dreams, he wouldn't never picked someone like Archie St Claire.

From his many interviews, Archie believed that he had the whole of the universe figured out at the age of twenty-six. Percy supposed having a strapping physique and having all the money that one could ever want all his life had something to do with that. He was loud, obnoxious, rude and most likely didn't have to answer to anyone but himself as he was growing up. Percy read articles about how Archie was going to 'correct' the mistakes that his 'poor predecessor' had made. He vowed to make the wizarding transport system 'more efficient' by having staff have 'more working hours and less breaks.'

It horrified Percy reading that in magazine and Daily Prophet clippings. Because he couldn't think of anything else worse than making his overworked staff work even more when they had a departmental shortage. Before he'd been suspended from his post, Percy had been burning all the bolts in his brain trying to find a way to make his staff work less.

But Percy still wasn't prepared for how well he'd be received when he first walked into his department.

Michael Donovan, a man that had sent a complaint against his secretary about how he didn't 'agree' with Percy's 'lifestyle choices', had gotten up from his desk and grabbed Percy's arm almost immediately when he walked into the room.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Michael looked more stressed than ever. His hair was already thinning, and his desk was uncharacteristically impeccable, with no half-opened chocolate frog wrappers or cups of tea in his wake. "You're back." Then he turned to look at the rest of the department in their small cubicles, writing away diligently with their inky quills. All of them had solemn expressions that Percy had never quite seen before in his life. It looked a little eerie and frightening to be honest because he was used to people making fun of how much of a git he was. "Everyone! It's…it's Percy! He's back!"

Everyone had looked up from their reports. Percy had never seen his staff look almost excited to see him. Usually, when he walked into the office, it was met with disdain and annoyance.

Annalise's lips twitched with a half-smile. "Really?" she sounded like a child.

"Oh, thank bloody Merlin."

"Does that mean that dick is fired?"

"Do you want a coffee, Mr Weasley?" Elora squeaked out when she'd left her cubicle. "A coffee? Do you want one? Please tell me that you want one." Percy recalled that in an exclusive interview with Witch Weekly, Archie drank matcha tea lattes. Elora didn't look like she knew what a 'matcha' was. Frankly, neither did Percy.

"We can take your papers to your desk!" one of the men stood up rather keenly. Percy remembered that was the one that told him that he had a stick up his arse the first time that he'd suggested that he take shorter lunch breaks.

"Is this you coming back? Please tell me that this isn't just a visit." Susan pled. "I mean…I've heard there are good remission rates for all those cancers and all. Read it in the Daily Prophet once in that 1958 issue…"

"Perce!" Oliver Wood came from behind him, slapping a hand to Percy's shoulder. "Perce, you look great. Really. A million Galleons. I hope you're…you know, better. Cured after-after all that time in the hospital." Percy doubted that he was cured. He did hope that Oliver understood the concept of cancer. "And that's a very manly shirt you're wearing! I mean…I really don't know what everyone is faffing on about." He looked nervous. "Uh…everything's been great."

Percy looked down at his usual plain white button-down. He had no bloody idea what Oliver was spewing on about.

"Everything has been great?" Percy echoed incredulously.

"Absolutely bloody great." Oliver nodded his head. "Dreadfully, horrifically, ghastly great."

"What are you going on about, Ol? It's been absolute hell!" Michael shrieked out at Oliver for even mentioning that. "Every day, that bloody monster gets us rejecting all these-these requests! Isn't even our job! And he makes us pass these half-completed forms on the basis that they're his mates!" he waved his arms around. "No bloody lunch breaks. No…no extra pay for all this-this overtime we've been working at. No employee benefits. Nothing." He breathed out quite heavily.

"Says you… I haven't seen me wife in eight days!" Gideon decided to mention. "It's been quite nice."

"Shut up, Gideon."

"Are you really sure you want a woman to lead the department?" Percy urged with a raise of the eyebrow.

He could hear everyone go suddenly silent, because he knew about the complaints that had been made against him.

Michael looked like he'd been slapped in the face. "Um…um…you know we didn't mean that." He fixed his sleeve. "I mean you aren't a woman. You know, all things considering. And look!" he grabbed a fistful of his chest. "I have a bigger chest than you, mate! If anyone's a woman, I am! Not…not that there's anything wrong with being a lass, Mr Weasley."

"You're not a woman, Michael. Please stop groping yourself in the hallway." Percy said in a very even tone. "I don't want to bother weaving through any sexual harassment reports."

"See, sir! You-you care about the people!" Michael raised a fist in the air. "Care about what happens to us folks."

A woman beside Michael that Percy recognised as Hattie Dunlap nodded her head. "Whether or not we eat. Or sleep. Or breast-feed our three-month-olds…"

"Well, well, well," Archie had come up behind Percy. "So, the prodigal son returns."

"Prodigal son?" Percy echoed incredulously.

"Yes, well, you know what that—"

"Oh, come off it, Archibald. You're half my bloody age and you are my subordinate." Percy gestured towards a shiny scroll in his hands. Archie's face turned white the second that he recognised the Minister's seal on top, glistening and gleaming proudly. "One that I can easily replace, Mr St Claire, so I suppose you keep your opinions to yourself."

"That can't be right!" Archie looked absolutely crushed.

"Well, I hope you can read."

"The public isn't going to be happy about this, you know."

"Well, I think the public isn't happy with the fact that their Floo requests are taking so long to be authorised," Percy pursed his lips as tightly as possible. "And that their loved ones lay dying in hospital beds when emergency portkey requests take longer than a week to be completed."

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? Dying on a hospital bed."

"Archie, I will throw you out."

"I dare you."

"Get out," Percy finally said. "And come back tomorrow with a better attitude, or don't come back at all." Archie looked like he thought that Percy was joking until he turned to his secretary and said, "Elora, please call security to escort Mr St Claire out. I have a lot of work I need to catch up on and can't be bothered to spend my time on him. Thank you."

"With pleasure, Mr Weasley," Elora perkily walked over to her cubicle.

Everyone was almost stunned, watching Archie be thrown out of the office that he was diligently running for the last few days. Percy walked past his employees, straight down to his office. Already, his plaque had been removed and the furniture had been changed. Percy couldn't believe that his simple, basic office had been turned into a bachelor pad, with a magical fridge stocked with fizzy drinks and packaged frosted cupcakes. His desk had been changed and his new chair looked like it belonged in a Primpernelle shop. Percy ignored that and trudged straight in and reclaimed his office.

Percy thought he might as well have a coronary, seeing the stacks of paperwork in front of him that Archie hadn't even bothered trying to get through. There were documents that were labelled VERY, VERY, VERY URGENT on top that he should've replied to days ago!

Sighing, Percy got to work and thought he might faint when he realised how many things he just had to do, things that he had to correct. Percy worked through his lunch hour, which he only noticed when he lifted his head up and realised that it was four in the afternoon. He could hear his employees laughing outside, mostly gossiping that they've missed on since Archie had been brought on. Elora walked into his office at the end of her shift, ears and neck red from embarrassment as she handed over his schedule, which was so full that Percy would most likely die before he'd get to the end of the week.

One week was all that it took for things to go awry. Percy rubbed his temples as Elora gave him an uneasy smile.

"I'll fix this," Percy finally said, which made Elora look close to fainting because fixing that was technically her job.

"Sir, I can have another look at—"

"I suppose this is already the corrected version?" Percy challenged, to which she just nodded her head again. "Well, then, I'll fix it." He put the stack just beside him, making calculations in his head of what he was going to do. He had no idea how to correct such a massive schedule, but at the same time, there was such a relief that he had something to keep him busy for the next few days that didn't involve his family. "You can go, Miss Dunn. I'll be alright."

"Are you dying?" she managed to squeak out. "As in really, really dying?"

He'd never had an employee ask him directly. In fact, he didn't think that his family wanted to think about the fact that he were dying most of the time.

"I'm sorry to ask, sir. But it's just that…they said cancer…and I know that some people have…better odds than some…"

Percy looked up to see this woman stood in front of him. "Yes, well… I suppose I technically am."

"You are?"

"Dying that is," Percy admitted softly. "I don't like to think about it much, for obvious reasons, but I suppose that…" his voice trailed off, as he shook his head, rubbing his neck. "I suppose that this is it for me."

"Oh, but I thought…" Elora looked confused and kind of stunned. "It just doesn't feel like anyone is treating it like you're really that ill. Much less that you're…you're…"

Percy thought of the differences between his work life and his home life. At his job, everything went the same, save for his scandal about how he "used to be a woman". What a load of rubbish. But at home, they were counting his breaths like one day, he was just going to stop breathing. They had stopped seeing him as himself, just as this nutter that didn't care one bit about his life when everyone else was just so desperately fighting for it.

"Yes, well," Percy answered back indifferently. "Maybe that's for the best."

"Oh," Elora looked like she didn't know what to do.

Percy's hands felt like they were turning a little clammy, and he could feel a sheen of sweat over his forehead. She stood there for a little while, looking like she was debating on whether or not she could leave. Eventually, she just nodded her head, said her goodbyes and then disappeared off, looking uncomfortable with the conversation they just had.

Turning back to his papers, Percy went back to trying to finish all the work that had been piling up. His morning had been so hectic that Percy had barely had any time to recover by the time that everyone had left.

At around nearly ten at night, Percy had left his office, his whole body felt heavy. He had left a note on Elora's desk, just letting her know that he was most likely not coming in tomorrow but still working at his room at The Three Broomsticks. He did not wish to accidentally run into any rouge family members after all… but as Percy rubbed his eyes, he came to realise how absolutely knackered he was. He didn't know if he could apparate safely home. He was stood by the hallway, debating whether or not he'd take the risk when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Percy turned around to see Michael Donovan standing there with a half-smile, looking at him almost like he felt sorry for him. It was a look that Percy had been used to seeing throughout the past few weeks. "Err… going home, sir?"

Percy raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

"I thought to finish off a few things," Michael admitted. Looked like he was leaving at a similar time. "Thought to help you get home, um… my wife and I live a few doors down from you and yours. At the same building."

"Ah." Percy didn't know where this was leading to.

"I heard you two had a fight."

"As couples do."

"I think you left." His whole face went red. He knew he overstepped his boundaries. "Your wife…she…um…"

This was going beyond a conversation that an employee and their boss should be having. Percy kept his lips as tight-lipped as possible. "And what are you, Michael? Our relationship counsellor?"

"No, I just…" Michael looked overwrought with emotion. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"I'm staying at The Three Broomsticks," Percy answered back. "Not that it's any of your business, but well, I do need…help apparating there." He wouldn't lie. He was too tired to efficiently apparate without the high probability of him splinching himself. He hadn't side-apparated since way before, but he supposed that his dignity could take a hit. "If you'd be so kind to."

"Yes, sir! Of course."

Apparating with Michael Donovan was one of the worst experiences in Percy's life—and that included the procedure that took out three-quarters of his internal organs. It felt like Michael had just passed his apparition test, despite being nearly fifty years old. When he'd gotten them in front of The Three Broomsticks, Percy immediately felt like he might have a coronary. Fortunately, the feeling lasted for about three seconds, before it went away.

Michael helped him up to his room, probably making them look like they were devoted partners. Not that Percy minded having a male partner by any means, but he surely could do better than Michael Donovan in his opinion.

When he'd been helped onto the bed, Percy laid backwards, just trying to get himself to relax so that he could get up and change out of his clothes. What he didn't expect was that fifteen minutes just after he'd laid on his bed, Michael would return with a massive takeaway bag. He sat down at the edge of Percy's bed and produced the greasiest carton of chips that Percy had ever seen, accompanied with a burger that was so oily that it left the wrapping paper transparent.

"Here," he said, pushing the display of takeaway food towards Percy. "Unless you're hiding something in that desk, I wager you haven't eaten anything all day."

"Is that what you were doing instead of finishing those Floo network forms?" Percy asked. Surprisingly, he did start tucking into those chips even though he didn't even really like chips to be fair. He was more for his mum's roast potatoes and those supermarket pre-made jacket potatoes that he ate sometimes. "Noticing what I was and wasn't eating?"

"You haven't left the office all day."

"I do have a secretary, you know. And I hardly doubt it's normal to be paying such close attention to what your boss puts into his mouth." Percy's ears went red the second that he said it. "Not…not in that kind of sense."

Michael laughed and shook his head. "Ol was right about you." Ol? 'Ol' was so senior compared to Michael and probably shouldn't warrant a nickname basis. Percy only called him Oliver on the basis that they grew up together. "You might be a tight-arse, but you're not so bad."

"I suppose that's meant to be a compliment."

"Yeah, it is."

Percy smiled weakly, as he pushed the tray of chips over at Michael. He helped himself without another prompt. Percy sat up from his bed after he unwrapped the burger and went over to get them a couple of Percy's favourite lemon fizzy drinks. Michael looked mildly amused because it was a child's drink first of all. It didn't seem to faze Percy, who opened his can and took a few hearty sips.

"I'm having problems with the missus too," Michael said. It seemed like his employee could be such a chatterbox. "You know, a decade of marriage with a younger bird—and all she cares about is that you don't have enough swimmers in your spunk to get her knocked-up. We're separating, you know. It's an endemic. Separating couples that is, and over what? I don't know why we couldn't just adopt. Why it had to be her baby. I mean it's the right thing to do, you know. Adopt."

"I'm sorry," Percy said, and he was surprised by how much he meant it too.

"Yeah, well…" Michael just shrugged in a nonchalant way. "What happened with yours? Said something about you having a death wish. I mean—I've heard that you've gone to get that procedure done. Everything's alright. That's what I've heard anyway." Apparently, that was the common misconception with his department. "Oliver and Katie were talking to everyone else about it when other departments were flagging some concerns. Vultures they said. Looked like they just wanted to see when they could swoop in and take over our department, you know? Said there's nothing to do in Magical Transportation these days. It's dumber than even the Magical Sports department. You don't need to be so meticulous about issuing portkeys."

"Yes, just give everyone and their criminal partners a portkey to wherever they want to go," Percy muttered in irritation. As far as he was concerned, their department was top-notch. They didn't install Floo networks without a thorough background check. Broomstick regulations have been so strict that there were no longer any British reports of any mysterious accidents. And nobody was allowed an apparition licence willy-nilly either. Percy was very happy about how tight of a ship he ran. "Which is exactly what Archie St Claire was doing." He grabbed the copy of the Daily Prophet he had at his desk and slipped it towards a confused Michael. "Why else would we have the first Azkaban break-in in years? Because that's with a portkey. A very specialised portkey our department allows in—for top-level Aurors to visit Azkaban without need for all the unnecessary scrutinisation. This is a PR nightmare."

Percy noticed the look on Michael's face changing. "What is it?"

"I can't believe you were born a woman. There's nothing about you that's feminine at all. Even if you're in a frock and a pair of women's suspenders, I think I'd still look more like a woman than you do. You know, with the tits and all."

"I was technically born a man too. It's in my birth certificate." Percy mentioned. Even the glittery one that had PRISCILLA all over it. He was a bloke. And no matter how many times his father had wanted to change it in the first few weeks of his life, St Mungo's had absolutely refused. "I am not a woman, Michael. It's not that revolutionary of a concept. There's no need for a third wizarding war to be thrown over some bloke's genitals."

"Uh…"

"What is it now?"

"How did you look like? Do you keep any pictures around?"

Percy wanted to tell him to sod off and it was none of his business, but he found himself reaching into his own wallet. Underneath the photos of his daughters, he had stolen that picture of smiling, cherubic-faced Priscilla, the one in his father's wallet. His ghost, his nemesis, himself. "You'd think I'd be mental saying yes but…"

"Can't imagine that's you. Do you ever wonder how it's like?"

"Do you wonder how it's like to be a woman?"

"Sometimes," Michael admitted, rubbing his neck. "I wonder if I'd be a banger of a woman that is. And if i were, I'd have put my assets out and have as much sex as I want. Though I don't know if women feel that way."

"Some women do." Percy decided to say, not knowing how this conversation had come to this.

"How does it look like? Your muff?"

"My muff?" again, Percy was feeling uncharacteristically unlike himself. He put down his greasy burger and wiped his hands off. Without even blinking an eye, he'd pulled his trousers down so that he was clad in only his underpants. His oversized Puddlemere boxers that he got half-off as a present from Oliver Wood at a Christmas party once. He supposed that Michael might even have the same pair, which was embarrassing. He'd pulled that down, holding a deep breath. Him and his fucking muff out as if it were nothing at all. "Suppose like this."

Michael looked at him, trailing his eyes from his neck down to his body. "Yeah, that looks like a muff. That does."

"I wasn't asking for a second opinion." He pulled his trousers up. "What is it?" he couldn't believe his employee was sitting on his bed, eating chips with him at the dead end of the night, and he, a married man, just showed him his genitals for absolutely no reason at all. Well, technically, he may be separating, and he'd rather die before sleeping with Michael.

"Huh." Michael looked a little confused. "I don't think that makes you a woman, mate."

"You think so?" Percy's voice cracked when he didn't mean it to.

"Yeah," Michael nodded his head. "Yeah, it doesn't look unnatural it being there. But it doesn't… I don't know. You're just not a woman." He shrugged as if nothing at all had happened. "Are you going to finish those chips?"

After a strangely pleasant dinner, Michael had apparated away. Percy found himself taking a shower and then falling asleep. He woke up at five in the morning despite falling asleep at one and found himself feeling almost happy. He had spent his whole life hating how he looked because no matter what anyone had told him, he'd always felt like he wasn't a real boy. As if he were muggle Pinocchio telling so many lies that his nose had gotten so far up that it could reach his arse. The more he said it, the more fraudulent he had felt. He could see how uncharacteristically soft his body felt, how his jaw wasn't square enough, his face was too narrow, his shoulders and his hips too slim. He had always felt like he was hiding a terrible secret, even when he knew that he wasn't. But for the first time in the longest time—probably since he'd heard his diagnosis, he felt genuinely relaxed and content. Percy got up from his bed and changed into his clothes for the day.

We can talk now, Percy wrote very quickly onto a piece of paper and then sent it with Aphrodite, who was very irritated that she was disrupted from her sleep to mail a letter back to Audrey. Meet me at the laundromat.