Momentary Illusions

Chapter Fourteen

Verdict

I am sorry for spewing biscuits into your lawn at two in the afternoon and not cleaning it up afterwards. It will not happen again.

Regards,

Percival Ignatius Weasley

Percy had taken the Knight Bus home all alone after the last of his first cycle of chemotherapy. He had refused any assistance from his parents, siblings, wife and daughters despite them insisting on coming with him. After declining for the fifth time that evening, they'd decided to let him do what he wanted. It was a horrendous mistake on his part because the combination of the high-velocity vehicle along with the fact that he had just received a horrific course of potions had led him to have a vile vertiginous attack. This made him beg the conductor to let him off the bus and sent him spiralling into an unsuspecting muggle's lawn where he lost the biscuits that he'd eaten that day.

After leaving a badly written note on the family's glossy mailbox, Percy had disappeared into the street, feeling weak and diaphoretic. His whole hairline was bathed in sweat, and he felt unlike himself. He laid down onto the ground for a few moments, and then took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. So, this was a horrible idea, was all that kept running through his mind. After that, he decided to take a risk and apparate to his flat despite the fact that It Was Also A Horrible Idea. Fortunately, by the grace of Merlin himself, he managed not to splinch himself when he stumbled across his flat in an almost drunken stupor. And again, happily enough, he was the only person in that afternoon.

Molly, Lucy and Audrey were all at their respectable jobs, and he was alone.

Without even bothering to change into his clothes, Percy collapsed onto his couch. He tugged at his jacket and freed it open. The past few days, he'd really been poorly. He was always sleeping, always on the brick of collapse and despite him eating normally (or even sometimes, too much), he was shedding alarming amounts of weight. His whole family refused to come too close to him in case that would somehow send him into cardiac arrest. When he'd started losing his hair in the shower, he'd refused to talk to anyone about it. His parents kept telling him that he should just shave it off like everyone else did, but he refused to do that. He lost his hair in massive patches, and his remaining hair was very thin, and brittle compared to how it was like before. He was losing body and facial hair (including his eyebrows) rather rapidly as well.

In short, he thought he looked repulsive. He rarely looked at the mirror nowadays. He looked like he belonged advertising for that Gollum actor in those muggle films that Hermione talked to him about before. Despicable, hideous, unwanted. He did not voice his opinions to anyone, because it wasn't like he was Gilderoy Lockhart before he began his treatment.

As he was just about to sleep, he heard a knock on the door.

Oh, please, no, Percy's inner monologue did not help propel him to the door. After a few more knocks, he willed himself to get up from the couch and exhaustingly stumbled to the door. When he opened the door, he found Bill standing there and Percy wished he could slam the door into his face because He. Was. Not. In. The. Mood.

"Hey, Perce," Bill's voice was so soft, as if he was talking to a child. "Just thought I'd see if you got home safe."

Percy just raised an eyebrow at him. If he didn't get home safe, he wouldn't have opened the door and he wouldn't be standing there in front of him. "Well, you could see that I'm perfectly fine, so you head off—"

Just as Percy was closing the door, Bill pried it open with his hand. There was no question about who was the stronger of the two. In fact, Bill was always much stronger than Percy even without the chemotherapy, despite them both being lanky and tall. Percy attributed that to the fact that Bill was a Curse Breaker and Percy was a paper-pusher.

"I'm not going to be good company," Percy warned, his voice even sounding a little slurred. He barely got enough sleep the night before. He barely had. Every time he thought of going back to the chemotherapy unit, his stomach sloshed with nausea and his mind was filled with anxiety. He was more nauseated at the anticipation than anything else. He was anxious about the way that he was judged, even when people were trying very hard not to judge him. "I'm going to bed."

"That's okay," Bill told him.

Percy didn't know how to refute that beyond 'I don't want anyone in my flat right now' and even he realised that was a poor excuse. Percy sighed and left the door open, walking back towards the couch. He looked like a disgruntled teenager that hadn't grown into his, in his oversized black hoodie and sticky-out spine. But because he was forty, he looked unkempt and homeless instead of worryingly detached and withdrawn.

"I bought a few gifts with me," Bill said as he entered Percy's home.

"More flowers," Percy guessed, without bothering to look back at his older brother.

Bill tried to hide a smile. "You know, I'll stop spending this many Galleons on them if you'd like." Everyone got him loads of flowers. He had lots of flowers from the chemotherapy unit too, from some of the girls there that felt bad for him.

"Hmm," Percy took his glasses off and wiped them with his hoodie. "It's up to you."

Bill produced a bouquet of flowers to which Percy scoffed at because he knew he was right about them. They looked like the flowers that used to grow in mum's garden when they were kids. They were quite nice-looking too, plump and white and Percy had no idea what they were called, but he knew that sometimes if you looked at them for too long, they got offended and tried to gnaw a hand off you. "There's something else too," Bill told him. Then in his hand, he'd produced a pair of scissors. "I thought it's time we address this, Perce."

Percy blanched at the sight of them. "I'm not taking off my hair," he told him rather viciously.

Bill nodded his head. "Yeah, I know, Perce but—"

"Whatever's left of it anyway," he knew that the hairdo that he was rocking was pretty pathetic. In turn, he was leaving behind strands of his hair everywhere. It looked like he had a ginger Kneazle in the flat that left behind erratic hairballs and shed his coat every hour. "Besides, I've already finished my chemotherapy cycle! My hair shouldn't fall out as much anymore." He placed his hands over his head as if to protect himself.

Bill nodded his head. "I know, Perce," he said quietly. "But your hair was all over mum's carpet last Sunday."

"I. Don't. Care," Percy squared his shoulders up.

"You're wearing a fez indoors. I think you care very much," Bill pointed towards Percy's dark-green fez adorning his patchy hair. He was not going to argue that. Of course, he cared about his hair falling off! That didn't mean that he wanted to cut all of it off. He didn't care how many cancer victims did it. He was not going to do it. And if his family cared that much about him, they'd care enough to spend a little more time cleaning the carpets.

"Mum and dad are terrified, Perce," Bill said, as if Percy was not terrified as well. "You look…you really look…"

Percy turned his head to one side. "I'm not cutting my hair," he reiterated. "And you can't make me."

"Fine. I won't."

"Fine?"

"I'm not cutting your hair," Bill promised him. Percy just stared at him suspiciously. "I'm cutting mine."

"You're what?" Percy thought he might've just had a coronary hearing that. Bill, who hadn't had a haircut since he was probably a fifth year, was going to cut his hair? But here was Bill, striding towards the mirror, with a pair of glossy scissors in his hands. "What are you cutting your hair for?"

"I'm supporting you," Bill said.

"Supporting me?" Percy thought that was ludicrous. "I'm not even cutting my hair!"

He walked towards Bill, suddenly wide awake. He'd almost forgotten how exhausted he'd been just minutes ago.

"Well, I'm stubborn and you're stubborn, and one of us is getting their hair cut," Bill just decided to say.

Percy just glared at him. "Oh, fuck off." He tried to brush it off as unimportant, but he did find it unnerving that Bill was going to cut his hair. He'd always known Bill as having long hair that it felt rather ridiculous to imagine him with a haircut. Even at the age of nearly fifty, Bill somehow looked normal with his hair long and flowing and tied in a ponytail.

"I'm giving it to you," Bill finally said.

"What? A coronary?" Percy raised an eyebrow.

Bill snorted. "My hair," he said very thickly.

"Oh," Percy didn't know what to say about that. "Well, I don't know. Can you persuade Charlie? I mean, he has better hair than you do." To which, Bill did laugh as he sat down in front of the hallway mirror and looked at himself. Merlin, this was a nightmare. He couldn't trust his siblings with scissors. "We can go to a barbershop instead of you running around with a pair of scissors like a first year who's just been allowed to have them in his Transfiguration classes."

Bill frowned. "But you know, this is a special moment. Symbolic really."

Percy rolled his eyes. Symbolic his arse. Sure, he'd had a head full of hair, and absolutely no eyebrows or other form of facial hair. He bet that that would look really nice now when they put him up in posters.

"I don't feel like taking you to the hospital after you've clicked your ear off," Percy told him. He was beyond exhausted, and the thought of leaving his flat left him in a horrendous mood. Even just stood, he was swaying from side to side.

"Hey!" Bill caught Percy before he stumbled backwards and nearly hit his head. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Percy finally said. Then his eyes wandered to the carpet. "I've just had a rather eventful afternoon." As Bill let go of his hands, Percy took off his fez. Clumps of his dull red hair were attached to it. It did every day. He'd probably lose more hair when he slept. He'd probably wake up bald even if he didn't want to one day.

"Eventful?" Bill echoed. He'd thrown the scissors away when he'd caught him. Thank Merlin for that. "Eventful how?"

Percy just shrugged as if it didn't matter. "I took the Knight Bus home, and…it didn't go down very well."

"Perce, you shouldn't have gone by yourself," Bill chided. "You should've let someone go with you."

"I can go by myself."

His whole session was rather difficult to begin with. They had a hard time finding a vein after poking him so many times over the past few weeks. He could barely sleep during the session despite how tired he felt like.

"I have no veins," Percy admitted. "They say that if I'm going to continue with this, then they're going to have to put another line just to get the potions, and I can't stop bloody throwing up. I'm not in the bloody mood for this."

Bill looked a little pale. "Didn't know it was so bad, Perce," he sounded genuine. "You've never said."

Sure, he might look like the living death, but Percy usually did do his best to hide himself. Hide his decaying body, his patchy bits of hair, his pathetic life schedule. His whole life was around acting as normal as possible. How could he now?

"Of course, I'll never say. What are you going to do? Tell me to stop?" Percy's whole life had become revolved around people asking him how he was like and trying to make him sit down whilst they did things for him. The only thing that people could talk about, even at his own job, was the c word. It was all that people thought of when they looked at him. And for Percy? He literally couldn't think of anything else. He had no hobbies or aspirations or hopes or any interests in the past few months. It had all gotten swallowed with the news that he was dying.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Bill replied back. He didn't sound convinced.

Despite his family always being there, he felt very alone. He felt like nobody could understand how he felt like.

"Aud are the kids helping out?" Bill inquired. "You know, with…"

"They're helping," Percy explained, his lip quivering. "They're trying their best for me."

"But?" Bill prompted.

"But I'm not all there all the time," Percy just shrugged. He was asleep most of the time, from the sheer exhaustion. His daughters had tried to drag him out of the house sometimes, and his wife had tried to talk to him about some really important matters, sometimes related to his work. He went to the Ministry sometimes and zoned out by his desk.

Bill went white. "You're doing great, Perce," he told him, grabbing his hand. "How many cycles do they want you to do?"

"They would like me to do five more," Percy couldn't imagine going through another cycle. He didn't feel like he belonged in that chemotherapy ward. He hated it. He hated it when someone was with him, when he was alone, when people talked to him, when people were quiet to him. "Lucky bloody me." He didn't have to do another for the next few weeks, but that fuelled him with no excitement for the future. For someone that had such dire prospects to begin with, you'd assume that your treatment plan didn't take so many months of your life to begin with.

"Shit, Perce," Bill rubbed his arm in his attempt to comfort him. "I'm really sorry."

"Please just leave me alone," Percy didn't want to talk about any of this with anyone.

Bill nodded his head. "Sure, Perce," and just as he was about to get up, Percy grabbed his arm.

"No, wait," Percy looked a little spaced out. "There's a pot noodle packet in the cupboard." He obviously wanted to eat it. He could imagine his daughters shield in horror, just seeing him eating something that came with a powder in a sachet.

"A pot noodle?" Bill repeated. Percy nodded his head. "Merlin, Perce, you still eat like a seventh year during his exams."

Percy had dozed off for those few minutes that it took Bill to find his pot noodle stash and pull out a packet of frozen sweetcorn from the freezer. By the time that Bill had returned and tried to wake Percy up from sleep, it was almost impossible. Percy could hear Bill talk to him, but for the life of him, he felt so exhausted that he just kept pushing his hands away and telling him off. Percy couldn't even remember what he'd said. But he must've been asleep for hours after.

By the time that he woke up, the first thing he'd smelled was Audrey's new vanilla and pear perfume. He sat up straight, having have drooled all over himself. There were patches of hair all over his velvet pillow.

Audrey pulled him back down onto his couch the second that he'd gotten up and laid down beside him to stroke his face. She pressed her lips to his cheek as he vacantly stared back at the wall. Percy relaxed into her touch for a few seconds until he realised that he heard his father ask Audrey if she had a few biscuits around to go with his tea. Then he sat upright almost immediately, noticing that his mum and dad were standing at the counter with HIS mugs filled to the brim with tea. Bill, Charlie and George were downing beers and talking to each other. There was a light-hearted air to the room. His daughters were still in their work uniforms. Percy didn't even know his kitchen could hold that many people to begin with!

"We're going out," Audrey said. "I have an announcement to make. A really important one."

Before Percy could say anything, she kissed him and said, "Be ready in an hour."

Percy stared at her like she was mental, for deciding to take him out! When he obviously… had nothing to do.

Resigning to the fact that he had no way to get out of this, Percy reluctantly got out of the couch and trudged towards his showers. He took a long shower, scrubbing himself down and barely looked at the foggy mirrors in the bathroom. He threw anything on, not even caring if the colours clashed with his mottled skin. He looked like he was taking something out of Lucy's handbook, with his caricature-like fashion. He'd had on a pair of orange plaid pants, which clashed horrifically to the oversized red top and navy jacket he had on. He put on his plimsolls lazily, which were threadbare and pathetic. He didn't even want to bother trying on a pair of socks for the fact that it would take him too long to put on.

He was ready all within ten minutes. His dark-green fez added another colour to his clothing, and it made absolutely no bloody sense whatsoever, but he didn't care about that either. He looked like a portrait artist vomited his palette all over him. But Audrey turned to him, dressing very beautifully and smartly in Another Black Dress. She actually tried to smooth over his jacket and fix the buttons on his shirt like it mattered. Then she stood on her toes and kissed him.

He did perk up a little after that. He even smiled, and Audrey smirked at him. "So, you can smile."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he scowled, trying to restrain his smile. "Now, where are we going?"

"You'll see," she decided. Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. It better not be a barbershop!

Percy couldn't hide his surprise when his family took him to Mrs Doherty's Fine Dining and Wizard Cuisine. He could vividly remember the night that started all of this, and he knew that Audrey did too. They were escorted to an extremely expensive private booth and Percy could feel himself having palpitations because he knew just how ludicrously expensive having a private booth was. He'd almost wished he'd changed because he stuck out like a sore thumb. His family looked like they were about to be photographed for a magazine and Percy looked like he was about to go for his fish and chips.

He felt uncomfortable already, especially when he was staring at the menu. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. He felt extremely underdressed and extremely poorly dressed to boot. He didn't want anyone to take any photos of him.

Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione joined them soon afterwards. This private booth looked more like a miniature, very elite private party. Percy had no idea who was supposedly paying for this! He knew that it wasn't him, else it would be in horrific taste, but he still felt apprehensive about the whole thing. He could see his parents blanching at the prices, wondering if they really had to pay 'that' many Galleons for a flatbread. Audrey was trying to hold back her laughter, hearing his parents' comments. Bill's eyes were darting back and forth. George looked at the menu as if it was written in elvish. Molly and Lucy were leafing through the menu like they weren't going to order the same pasta dish they'd gotten last time. Percy thought he must be in an out of body experience, having his parents and siblings be there in a place that he usually frequented with Ministry officials that could shell out three-hundred Galleons over a bottle of wine.

"I'm not sure about this, love," Molly turned to Arthur, looking rather uncomfortable with the prospect of paying so much money just to have a meal. "I mean, can't we just go to the chippy down the road? It's quite nice too…"

"No chippies down the road, Mrs Weasley," Audrey said with a bemused smile. "Not on the menu tonight, I'm afraid."

Percy knew that his parents would be like this, but it was quickly going from endearing to painful.

"This is a special occasion, mum," George reminded her with a fixed expression. "Maybe you shouldn't be asking dad why there's a ten Galleon sandwich." He obviously tried to lower his voice, but Percy was sat just across from him.

Arthur shrugged. "Well, it is a little obscene, isn't it? A ten Galleon sandwich?"

Audrey was starting to look a little less entertained. "Yes, but this is what this sort of place usually charges."

"Dad," Bill shot him a look. "It's one of those places, you know. Fine dining and all of that."

"Lynching you for your money," Ron nodded. Harry looked like he agreed, even though Percy was sure he'd spend ten Galleons on a packet of sweets if you'd tricked him into it (not that he was holding that against Harry.)

"We're just saying, love…" Molly just shrugged. "I mean this is a very nice place, but it is just a little piece of meat between two slices of bread, isn't it? I don't suppose that these 'hand-cut chips' have anything to do with the price… I mean you've all grown up on 'hand-cut chips!' I pay about a knut per potato." She sighed deeply. "Unless they're frying them in dragon oil then I don't see the need to—" she was nudged by Ginny, who nodded not-so-discreetly at Audrey.

"Godric, I hope not," Charlie blanched at the idea. He'd just been back from Romania again and Percy had said absolutely nothing to him since he'd been back. In fact, he'd not talked to any of his family members.

"This is supposed to be a nice evening," Audrey firmly told his parents, who were not getting the hint.

Percy just sunk into his seat. This evening was already turning controversial. "We don't have to stay."

"But it'll be nice if we do," Lucy suddenly piped out. She really looked unlike herself. Her dress was only one colour, and she hadn't lined her eyes with a neon-coloured eyeliner or put streaks of colours in her hair either.

"Dad likes to eat here sometimes," Molly prompted.

Percy wished hadn't said that. It was true. He did like to eat here sometimes. He took Audrey here on their anniversary a few times. He'd taken Molly and Lucy out for a celebratory dinner after major milestones (no Prefect or Head Boy badge involved, unfortunately, but this was his go-to celebratory 'special occasions' restaurant.)

George looked up from his menu, snorting. "Really?"

"Do you really eat here, Perce?" even Bill was finding it unbelievable.

Ron snorted. "Do you really pay five Galleons for a bottle of water?" Percy flushed. "What are you? Made out of money?"

Percy's face went red. "I do sometimes." What was he going to do? Tell his daughters they couldn't get water?

"You're joking!" Ginny even found that laughable.

"Since you know so much," George was looking maniacal. "What's the five Galleon price-tag for, Perce?"

"Think the bottle that it comes in is rather nice," Percy's face went even redder.

"The bottle!" Bill looked like he was trying not to take the piss out of him, but Percy was making it hard not to.

"I'm a Head of Department," Percy mentioned, as if he had just said that he was the Minister of Magic. But really, he had a pretty whacking income for someone that had come from a place like the Burrow. "I thought you'd assume that I was making…quite a bit of money. And this is a common place for other Head of Departments to meet. In fact, we rotate the tab every month, so yes, I suppose that I do eat here…frequently." He didn't even like to say that. He was sure that Catherine from Magical Resources deliberately ordered a very expensive chardonnay when it was his turn.

"You pay ten Galleons for a sandwich frequently?" Arthur looked like he was confused.

"Well, not…well…" Percy was stammering. It was hard for him to explain what he did during these meetings. "I suppose, in a sense then yes, I'd be paying ten Galleons for a sandwich frequently." He did the sums in his mind sometimes, but he'd rather not. He just wrote it off as a work expense. "You don't have to look at me like that, you know."

Arthur must've snapped out of the haze that he was in, but he still looked unsettled. "How much money do you make?"

Percy couldn't believe that he was having this conversation. "It doesn't—"

"I'm just curious," Arthur cut him off.

Percy stiffened uncomfortably in his chair. When he bumped 'something-something thousand', he hoped that his father didn't catch the number, but he did. And when he did, he looked like he'd been punched in the gut.

In fact, everyone had caught the number. And everyone was staring at him like they didn't recognise him.

He did not want to tell him that he could technically have lunch every day in this place if he'd wanted to, if he'd like to. As much as he complained about buying Molly and Lucy their organic strawberries and giving money off to their candle making business, he was aware that he could pay for it.

"In Galleons?" Arthur's voice cracked and was a little high squeaked.

"Yes, I'm sure your paycheck is in Galleons too," Percy crossed his arms over his chest.

"Blimey," George looked at him like he was mental for keeping that to himself.

"All that gold and you won't lend me a tenner!" Ron mumbled in annoyance. "Arsehole."

Percy nodded his head numbly. He could've bought his own family out of house and home long back. He could've easily paid for Molly and Lucy to leave their flats. He could've bought his own house. He could've done quite a lot of things with his money, but he worked so hard he didn't think of actually spending it.

"Darling, then why wouldn't you…" Molly looked at him in a confused manner.

"Why wouldn't I what?" Percy cocked his head to one side.

"Why didn't you get the second procedure?" Molly suddenly asked. Percy stiffened. He bet that everyone was thinking the same thing. If Percy was making that much money in the first place, he could've transitioned on his own accord. He wouldn't have to work hard to save up that money. "I mean, I thought that this is what you wanted."

"This is what I wanted," even Percy was finding it hard to answer that back without sounding high-pitched and anxious.

"Well, I didn't mean it like that," Molly looked like she was fumbling over her words. "I just thought that—"

"What did you mean it as?" Percy cut her off. He felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest.

He swore he was transported back to being five years old, when he kept on telling him that this was what he wanted, and nobody believed him. Did he really have to fully transition for them to believe him? He was sure that his mum would've loved to lose four stones, but she wasn't paying healers for procedures to reduce her stomach size! Even if she had the money, she wouldn't do it! And Bill, he quite liked the look of tattoos but didn't fancy getting one. But for some reason, if Percy didn't get his second procedure, that meant that he was having doubts? That this wasn't what he wanted?

"But Perce, for someone that's dying to be as bloke-like as possible, that actually has that money…" Charlie was finding it hard to rationalise it also. "Why wouldn't you do it? I mean…" his expecting eyes were racking him up and down Percy's body and it was leaving him rather unsettled. "I thought you were all for being a bloke."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Percy asked rather hotly. He realised he'd asked his mum the same question.

This bloody restaurant was cursed. Every time he came here, it was like the third wizarding war just had to happen.

"Would you like to order?" the waiter had put a fresh bread basket out. He'd come in at the right time, of course, defusing the situation with a basket of freshly baked bread, studded with tomatoes, olives and sprigs of parsley and mint.

"Can you give us a few minutes?" Audrey asked sweetly, and the waiter nodded his head.

"There's no need for that," Percy knew that this was a bad idea the second that he left the house. There was a part of him on the inside that knew that there was no way that he could have a pleasant evening without the whole world imploding.

"Come on, Perce!" Ron looked at him like he was ridiculous. "It's an innocent enough question."

"It's none of your concern," Hermione told him. "Remember how we've talked about—"

"Well, I don't care how innocent it is, I. Don't. Have. To. Answer. That." Percy replied back unhappily.

"Because you can't answer that," Ron was prodding him, and he would not get a good enough response.

That was the problem with his family! They thought that he was incapable of answering that question other than not wanting to answer that question! Percy was at the end of his rope.

"Because MY excuses aren't good enough for you!" Percy yelled back at him. "Because nothing I ever do or say is good enough for you." Hot tears started streaming down his face, and he let out a choked sob.

He was so sick of being there already. He'd made a spectacle of himself, and it didn't matter how private their booth was. Everyone was staring at him like he'd grown three heads or had spontaneously combusted.

"Come on, dad," Lucy stood up from her place, and grabbed his hand. "Let's go for a walk."

When Lucy got up, Molly automatically followed her. They managed to lead Percy away from the table, and they walked into the small, beautiful garden they had in the establishment. Percy had been there enough. He'd seen couples kissing each other, pampered dogs running around happily, and fountains that were charmed to chocolate rivers on weddings. Now, the fountains were sparkling beautifully with the moonlight. The air was damp and cool. It was one of those nights that were beautiful for a night out. Where the weather was just right and going outside was taking in a breath of fresh air.

"I apologise for that out—" as Percy was talking, Molly immediately reached out and hugged him.

"It's okay, dad," Molly said. He finally managed to calm down enough.

Percy melted into her embrace and placed his head onto her shoulder. Molly rubbed his back as softly as she could, burying her head into his shoulder. He'd almost forgotten that with heels, Molly trumped him in height.

"Dad, we're going to pay for everything," Lucy said quietly.

"You're going to…?" Percy felt lightheaded because he knew that they'd only been working for a few months. This singular outing would annihilate their pay check.

"It's our present," Molly added on.

Lucy nodded her head. "We've been saving up as much as we could for it."

"Yeah," Molly rubbed his back. She winced at the feel of his spine against her hand. "It would mean a lot to us if you please stay?" what was he supposed to say to that? Percy melted into their hands like anything. "Mum thought it would be nice and she even picked out everything for you already. She… she said she knows what you like."

"Besides, we have an important announcement," Lucy was grinning towards him. "You'll really like it."

"Of… of course," Percy felt a wave of warmth flood his chest. Audrey did indeed know what he liked.

They led him back into their private booth. Percy said nothing and nobody else brought up the conversation again. It felt like the air was a little tense, but nowhere near as bad as Percy thought it would be considering what had happened. George was trying not to laugh when Ron had somehow managed to get tomatoes in his hair and Hermione was rather angrily cleaning out his hair with his wand. Ginny commented about how she didn't even know how Ron had managed to do that. Really trifle stuff, but the conversation was enough to put Percy at ease.

Molly was right. Audrey did know what he'd liked. She'd gotten him an alcoholic beverage that was so sweet that even he couldn't exactly say that it was horrific, despite him not typically liking alcohol. Percy wasn't even sure if he was allowed to be having alcohol. His healers hadn't said anything about it, but he supposed that it wouldn't kill him.

Audrey ordered him a plate of salmon in a light cream sauce with potato galettes and vegetables. It was nothing he'd order off the menu (he'd usually stick to the same limp salad), but he did enjoy it quite a lot. In fact, the second he'd taken a bite of it, it was hard for him to suppress his smile. Even Audrey looked at him from across the table to smirk at him. The food was exceptionally good that evening. Even his parents no longer made complaints about the pricing. Ron and Harry single-handedly managed to polish off the whole breadbasket by their side of the table without any help from anyone else, but still had enough room for their mains. Most of the conversation was Audrey asking everyone if the food was alright, or if they'd like a refill of their drinks. With the wine and other forms of alcohol flowing, it seemed like everyone was at ease.

"Hey, Perce," Charlie's tone was light-hearted. "I just wanted to say that you don't have to—"

"I was scared," Percy cut him off. He was still absolutely mortified. He just kept imagining what would happen if things had gone wrong "It's not a particularly good reason, or anything to write home to, but it's the truth."

"Oh," Charlie looked surprised, but he seemed to accept that answer.

In fact, he was more terrified of how things would be like after. He'd had this pathological fear that even if he did do the second procedure, that he'd still feel the same way. He wouldn't feel anymore like a man than he did right now. He was afraid he'd still feel like an imposter. At least, this way, he could blame his feeling of misplacement attributed to the fact that he didn't finish his second procedure. And then in the moments where he caught himself out on his convoluted thinking, the fear stopped him from propelling forward. He was scared of something happening to him because there was a sedating potion involved. He had remembered stories sticking out into his mind, rarities. Rare stories, but they were out there, and he didn't think he could get over his fear enough to try even if it was what he wanted.

"I don't like sedating potions, needles, those sorts of things," Percy waved off dismissively. "Couldn't go through with it."

George stared at him as if finally unlocking a new level to his Exploding Snap Adventure Challenge. "That explains why you're so against having chemotherapy," if it was a matter of life or death, Percy had obviously not chosen 'life' when it came to how his family looked at him. "It's had nothing to do with your dignity after all, Perce."

"I suppose you could say that if you like," Percy disagreed. Him not admitting that he was scared to death was him upholding his dignity. He didn't want to show how much of a coward he really could be when push came to shove.

George shrugged. "You could've just said."

"I should've just said!" Percy just shuffled uncomfortably. "So, you could take the piss out of me?"

George found that laughable. "I wouldn't have taken the piss out of you."

"And really, you would've been empathetic to me if I've told you that?" Percy thought that was hilarious. He couldn't imagine George understanding that for a second. "You would've accepted that as an answer?"

George looked just as uncomfortable. "Well, maybe not but I would've—"

"Maybe not?" Percy called out. "You wouldn't have told me that a couple of pricks of a needle isn't worth my life," he said the last part theatrically, as if he thought it was a joke. And it was a joke. His life was an absolute fucking joke.

"It's not," George said, his eyes a little glossy and vacant. "You're right. It's not."

Percy just shook his head. He genuinely didn't understand why George of all people cared about him dying if not for the trauma of having to lose another sibling. They genuinely had nothing in common and every time they seemed to reach some mutual understanding; it all went to hell the next day. Percy honestly couldn't read him.

"You don't have to understand my choices to respect them," Percy finally told George.

"I respect your choices, Perce."

"Like hell you do," Percy's blood ran cold.

Percy was almost surprised at how George looked like being told off.

When his favourite part of the meal—dessert—came around, Percy thought that he might roll over his table in excitement. He could probably eat everyone else's puddings without even trying. He had a gigantic pot of crème brûlée. Even just hearing the crystalised sugar base on top crack and wield underneath his spoon was relaxing.

"When's your next cycle, love?" his mum didn't know what to ask him about. She couldn't exactly chide George in the middle of their dinner, especially when she'd agreed with some of the things that he'd said. He knew that his family thought that he was accepting his own death prematurely. He knew, he knew, he knew.

Percy just shrugged. He didn't particularly care for his next cycle. "I don't want to talk about that."

"I don't think he wants to do another one," Audrey said, as if it wasn't the most controversial topic in his family.

"I'm not doing another one," Percy said. "Bite me."

He was not going to be dehumanised. He was not going to be debased. He was not going to be looked at funny because he was the only bloke there. He was not going back to become ill with compounds that would extend his already extremely dire life for a few more months. What was the point when he was already sleeping and miserable all the time?

"How surprising," even Ginny was a little tired of the same fight. "Come on, Perce. Care about your life a little."

Percy snapped his head up at Molly and Lucy, who were looking pink in the face.

"Love, I do think we should talk this through…" his mum offered him a soft smile. "I do think that—"

"I thought you were doing this for your wife, Perce," George prodded at an open wound.

Audrey looked at George with a detached expression. "Well, then you must know, George, that this dinner is just about that," she said very sternly. "Because I want him to stop."

"You do?" Percy couldn't hide the relief in his voice.

All the blood drained from George's face. "What?"

"In fact, I've had a talk with the girls, and we've decided that it's up to their father to do whatever he wants. They both agree," she finally admitted. Percy felt a genuine relief that nobody in his family could tell him to 'think of his daughters' when his adult daughters had agreed that he could stop his treatment if he liked. "Because I know that it's hard for you to believe but I'd prefer the days when my husband wasn't comatose by the couch every evening. You know, from before when we used to talk to each other and have plans of what to do in the day."

"Yeah," Molly nodded her head. "It's like he's already dead. And he looks so sick all the time."

"He is sick all the time," Lucy shuddered. Percy blanched himself. He threw up an after of about five times a day and most of it before his chemotherapy session. He dreaded it more than anything. "Every day."

"You don't know because you don't have to see him being genuinely miserable all the time," Audrey confronted George. "I'm not going to force my husband to do something he doesn't want. I don't even really feel convinced about it anymore either. And I've heard some unsavoury things being said to him when he's in that room."

"I think we should all talk about this more," Arthur suggested, same as Molly.

"Come on, Aud. He still has a good enough chance," Charlie counteracted lightly. "It's not great but it's…"

Percy thought about the new thing that he'd found in the shower the other day. He had noticed that his stomach was more rounded than he'd expect, even though he was still technically extremely emaciated. The Thing that he'd gone to the healers for by himself, and the New News that he had to give his family that he refused to give them.

"Actually, I don't," Percy cut him off. "In fact, despite all the rubbish I've put into my body, my cancer has spread."