Momentary Illusions

Chapter Seventeen

The End

1991.

Percy had heard about the Mirror of Erised many times. He knew where it was. He knew what it was for. He understood, like the good little prefect that he was.

He always thought he knew exactly what it would show. It would show him, excitedly zipping about the kitchen with his prefect badge. It would show his parents, proudly looking at him. It would show Bill and Charlie, surprised and astonished at how driven he was. It would show him, a proper man, not having to prove himself that he was a man because he was muscular, attractive, gorgeous, with a body that most witches would die to touch.

But he didn't see any of those things when he looked into the mirror. He saw four sentences reflected back to him.

It's okay.

I know.

I understand.

I love you.

The holiday was pretty wonderful. Percy had never had to take as many photos as he had. He had seen so many museums, striking sights that would take your breath away and consumed much more culture than he ever thought he would.

But at night, when he was by himself, all he remembered was how nice it was to feel the sun on his neck whilst he walked with his wife in a beautiful place. How nice it was for all to sit down and have one-hour breakfasts, lunches and dinners at night and just talk. He learned so much about his daughters that he never knew before. He had always known that they were smart, driven women but he never knew quite how much. It was nice to hear about Molly's plans to have her own magazine one day and Lucy planning on travelling the world and making lovely frocks inspired by the places she'd been to. Charlie joining them on was just a bonus. Percy spent ages talking to Charlie, admitting to things he'd never thought he'd ever say, about how he'd felt like he was never good enough growing up, about how he'd felt so alone when he'd left home. He talked and talked and talked and Charlie listened to him and was so emotional about the things that Percy had said, particularly things that they never thought that he'd had ever gone through by himself.

How much he enjoyed the genuine pleasure on Lucy's face when she snapped a million photographs of lovely pastries on their daily walks. The day that Molly got to hold a baby dragon was a spectacular one too, the way her eyes had gone from excitement to trepidation to relaxation to enjoyment. There was nothing he enjoyed more than his daughters pushing out the boat and trying something that they thought they wouldn't enjoy but ended up liking.

Charlie showed him around as much as he could. He slept in a remarkable room and woke up to stunning sights every day. It was hard to believe that Charlie would ever want to go back to England, not even for his family when he woke up to that every day. Percy thought that in another world, he'd somehow decide to stay there and apply for a job in the Romanian Ministry. Especially after how much he'd told Charlie that holiday, he felt like they'd get on like a dragon reserve on fire.

Audrey looked like she felt the same way when it came to them coming back home.

But what he also liked quite a lot about the holiday, of course, was that Audrey had brought her frisky lingerie with her. She decided that the next thing they needed to do was expand was their repertoire of sexual poses. The best of which was having sex in a boat in public when it was passing a canal.

Unfortunately, these days, Percy was too much in pain to consider events like that on a daily basis. He'd been getting worse every day, but he tried to hide it as much as he could. He was downing pain potions at an alarming rate, and he felt like one day, Audrey would find his secret stash of the potent analgesics that he'd been drinking in order to dull the pain in his body. Growing something that was killing you was a very painful, harrowing process.

As the days went by, all he could think about was the inevitable end. Every day he woke up at five in the morning, woke Audrey up for work and went on with his day. He listened to the ritualistic banging of closet doors and drawers as she told him off for being an arsehole. After she left, he pottered about the apartment, making himself a nice warm breakfast and sitting by the table, writing. Every time he thought of how he'd grown up, he wrote.

He wrote to his parents, his wife, his children, telling them all about how he felt.

He remembered the first time his father took him to the Hogwarts train, telling him that no matter what people told him, he was a boy. He remembered the first time he took Molly and Lucy to the train; he'd told them not to ruin their new clothes because it was quite expensive.

He remembered the private ceremony (one Percy was not supposed to know about) that his parents had in his father's shed, burning away things of his past life. Percy managed to salvage a small photo of Priscilla, as well as the jar that he'd used to keep his 'magic teeth' in. He kept the photograph clipped to the letter, just so his daughters and wife would know how he used to look.

He remembered the fight that he had with his father like it was yesterday. He remembered drinking his sorrows away bitterly in the pub. He remembered how angry he was that nobody seemed to understand him, that nobody seemed to know what he was like sometimes.

He felt the pressure of being perfect suffocating him. He felt like nobody cared about his grades, or the things that he cared about or his opinion. He felt like sometimes, it wouldn't matter if he was gone because he was more like his sibling's weird cousin than he was their brother. He felt so stunned with grief that he didn't know what to do when Fred had died. It took him years to even say his name without feeling his heart about to race out of his chest. He hated that he felt like a joke to everyone, that he never felt like he was comfortable enough to tell his siblings anything about how he felt in case they used it against him. He hated that he never felt like anyone listened to him.

He hated that he'd lived his whole life feeling like he was not good enough. He was not a good enough father, a good enough son, a good enough brother, a good enough man. And very few people made him feel like he was. Like he wasn't a poor substitute. Like he wasn't about to die an inadequate nobody who just didn't matter.

He hated that he couldn't say this to anyone's face because he didn't know quite how to put it into spoken word.

But he also remembered how pleased his mother was of him, of his prefect badge, of his grades, of how responsible he was compared to his siblings. He remembered how proud his father was when Ron had told him that Percy had used his money to get them all pasties for the journey back home because they'd used up all their allowance. He remembered how it felt like to be taken to Diagon Alley to get his first owl. He remembered how special it felt like to know that his mother always knitted his jumper first. He remembered how nice every Sunday dinner was—or at least they started that way until the twins made something explode. He remembered how his mother had held him when they were at Fred's funeral because even though he didn't do so much as shed a tear, she still knew he needed someone so badly. He remembered how fast his family welcomed him back. He remembered his father holding him as tightly as he could when it came to his wedding day and waking Audrey down to the aisle for him because her father had died when she was a little girl.

He remembered the first row he had with Audrey because she took his daughters out shopping for their wands, cauldrons, clothes and books without telling him. He remembered his daughters coming back home for the first time, refusing to hug him and ignoring him when he asked too many questions about their classes. He remembered being the last person in his family to find out that one of the boys in Lucy's class had been making inappropriate about her and had been sending her threatening letters for months. He remembered how it felt like to find those divorce papers that he had nothing to do about, how it felt like to be told off by the people that he loved, that he cared about. He remembered that one drunken night-stand Audrey had years back a few weeks after they were married, and Percy spent years feeling like she'd rather have married him because he was a 'real man'.

But in the same breath, he remembered how Audrey knew his mood just by how he buttoned his shirt in the morning, how she always knew what he wanted without him having to say anything. He remembered how she bought him new glasses because he hated his old ones but couldn't be bothered to go shopping. He remembered her lying on her bed, sobbing, crying in pain as she miscarried for the third time. He remembered the time that he thought that he'd lose her after she had a horrific infection after she'd given birth to Molly. He remembered the days where she stayed with him in bed when he was ill so that she could make sure that he didn't go to work. He remembered the way that she held his hand no matter what happened between them, squeezed them and promised to do better. And she had always come through, every single time.

He wrote the same to Bill. He wrote to Charlie, continuing on conversations that he'd had before. He wrote to George. He wrote to Ron. He wrote to Ginny. And he even wrote to Fred. He wrote every morning, and he'd written so much that by the time that Audrey had come home, his hand was cramped, and he was in pain.

He shrunk every letter down and made it smaller than the next. He'd stored them into his old jar, the one labelled CILLA, the one with the old yellow, blue and red oil paint. The one that had flowers all over the yellowed CILLA sticker.

When he was well enough, he met up with little Fred for a few studying sessions. Each time he did, Percy felt like it could be the last. After one afternoon in a wizarding diner, he took Fred to his namesake's grave. Percy didn't visit much, but he'd been going there more and more recently.

"Dad comes here a lot too," little Fred had said. "He never wants me to forget where I've come from."

He flashed his teeth at him, his braces gleaming. "I don't think I'm much like my Uncle Fred."

Fred was more like him than anyone he'd ever met. He was so bright but so sensitive, so fragile on the inside. He came to him whenever he'd had a problem, much more than he came to George.

"No, you're not," Percy leaned down at Fred's grave. "Do you know why I've brought you here?"

"Because you're going to be here very soon?" Fred had guessed.

"Very funny," Percy rolled his eyes.

It wasn't funny at all though. It was true. He would be there very soon.

"Yes, well, you know, when…when I lost my brother, I used to come here a lot and talk to him. He knows all about Audrey, Molly, Lucy…and all the terrible antics that they've put me through. I always felt like he'd get quite a bit of laugh out of them," he smiled. "But you know, when I'm going to be gone, I want you to know that I will be here too to listen too." He brushed Fred's hair away from his eyes. "I know that your parents love you so much, but they might not always understand you."

Percy watch Fred shake but he nodded his head. He knew that George found him a little uptight and in his drunken state, had told Angelina one that he didn't know where he got the 'prat' gene from.

Fred started to cry. Percy reached out and held him tightly. "Shh," he rubbed his back. He knew that Fred would not take his death easily. He knew that he was the one person that he felt like he could talk to, that wouldn't judge him, that would be there to listen to him. "It's okay. I know. I understand, and I love you."

They must've stayed there for some time. Percy's whole body ached from the position he had on the ground.

By the time that he'd taken him home, Percy felt more overprotective of him than ever. He was so red-faced and tired, and when Percy had asked him if he'd like to eat something with him, he politely refused. Percy was worried about him because Fred was getting so thin in general. When he'd brought him home, Angelina got up from the table and walked a sullen Fred to his room.

George, who was sitting by the table too, nursing a firewhiskey, looked up at him. "Where have you gone?"

"Fred's grave," he said quietly.

George nodded his head, looking despondent himself. "I've taken him there before."

"He's told me," Percy agreed, as he sat across from George. "Thank you for the lovely painting." He'd had it on his living room now. It never failed to make him feel better. He was frightened with how bad he felt sometimes. He now knew that any day now, when he went to sleep, he wouldn't be waking up again.

He reached out to hold George's hand.

"I'm scared, Perce," George shook his head. "You look like you're on your death bed."

"That's because I am on my death bed," Percy's response didn't actually do anything to make George smile.

"I'm scared for Fred," George glanced back at his door. "He's not been coping well. I don't think. Did you see him? And he doesn't even talk to me anymore. I've no idea what he's thinking and whenever I talk to him, he just keeps telling me everything is fine." He looked white and peaky. "Perce, I'm not like you. I don't know how to be there for him."

Percy thought so. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"About Fred?" George looked like he was scared, scared of what Percy might tell him.

"I'm afraid so," Percy said softly. "He's been picked on a great deal." He knew that Fred had come to him a few times, showing him all the bruising around his arms. He'd been terrified when his braces had gotten the brunt of one of the attacks. He'd taken Fred to the hospital without telling Angelina or George a few times too. "He comes to me whenever he is. I've…I've taken him to the hospital a few times, but he's not wanted me to tell anyone. And I was afraid that…that if I did, he'd stop trusting me. Because I was in his situation before, and I didn't trust anyone either."

George looked like he'd been punched in the face.

"Don't do anything," Percy knew how he was like. "Don't go around, threatening to hurt anyone that hurt him. I think…I think he just wants to feel like you could listen to him and help him on his own terms."

George opened his mouth to speak, but he just kept shaking his head.

"Perce, I can't do that," his voice cracked. "I can't let someone lay a hand on my son."

"I know, but he's a scared little boy," Percy didn't think that Fred would feel safe if his father just showed up in Hogwarts one day, throwing dungbombs at other students and threatening them. "He doesn't want people worrying about him. He just wants to feel like he's like everyone else." But Percy knew that he was alone. Fred had no mates. He invented mates to his father and walked around in Diagon Alley, just to read by himself in the library. He was so bright, and Percy was terrified about how he'd be like without someone to talk to.

George looked so conflicted.

"I have something else to ask you," Percy said, then cleared his throat. "If Molly or Lucy, if they get married, if they have children, will you be there for them? On behalf of me?"

He nodded his head. "Yeah, Perce," he held his hands. "Pretty sure they'll be naming one of their young ones after you."

Percy wrinkled his nose in distaste and without skipping a beat said, "Percy's a horrible name." Then he said, "Molly likes women. I just want it to go on record that I know because I won't be around when she…" when she came out and said it. He knew. He knew that the looks that she was giving Madison were looks you'd give someone when you fancied them.

"Yeah," George nodded his head. "Don't worry, Perce. I know. I'll be there. Just…"

Percy knew how that would end before George even said it. The words on everyone's tongues.

"Just don't go," George begged.

It was hard to leave with George being like that. He had his will updated ages ago. He'd wished he'd grown up to be something more than just a person that came and went, a forgotten name in the Ministry. He'd wished he could be something more, but a part of him knew that many people always felt like that no matter what they accomplished in their lives.

And every time that he did feel that way, he remembered holding Molly and Lucy in his arms for the first time. He'd given those two beautiful girls life. Audrey and Percy had them because they wanted them so badly. Through miserable cycles of IVF, they came forth like a gift. He was lucky enough to watch them grow into compassionate young women.

When he came home to his flat, he ate dinner with Audrey, Molly and Lucy. They'd made a roasted vegetable lasagne that he forced down with about as much zeal as Ron eating a salad. He ate ice cream with them afterwards, and they talked about things like what they had planned to do tomorrow.

The last few weeks of Percy's life was a blur, he'd supposed. He couldn't hide behind a pseudo wall of pain medications. He was in too much pain to really enjoy having his daughter and his wife around him constantly. Every time they walked in, he was lying in the throes of agony, and when they gave him enough pain potions to take it away, he slept through everything. He was nearing the very end of his life, and it was a hard thing to ignore. He did not want to die suffering this badly. By the time that the pain had settled down with the perfect combination of pain potions from the healers, the combination where he could enjoy the last days of his life and keep the pain at bay, he was too tired to get out of his bed most of the time.

"Hey," Audrey had his head on his lap. He'd not been seeing much of his family besides his little ones. He didn't think he could cope with the thought of entertaining anyone. He didn't know how he looked like anymore. Every few days, Audrey took him to the bath to bathe him. He wasn't sure.

"Hello," he replied back with a bleary tone.

It was five in the morning and Audrey didn't look like she wanted to leave for work. Percy had been up for half an hour, mostly watching his wife change into her clothes. She was ready now but instead of having her breakfast to fuel her for a no doubt very busy day, she had his head into her lap and was stroking his hair.

"It's a really nice day outside," she said quietly. Percy would take her word for it. "Do you want me to open the window?"

"Hate natural sunlight," Percy said through a weak smile. "Can you put me into my nice pyjamas?"

"Yes," Audrey said. If you'd asked him if he would find it a normal thing for his wife to help dress him up in the morning, he'd have thought you daft, but here he was. After he'd been put into his nice and warm pyjamas, his wife kissed him. "I love you," she'd said, stroking his hair again. "I love you so much it physically hurts me to see you like this."

"I'll be alright," was his now usual response. He knew that Audrey was terrified of leaving him alone. If he died alone in the flat, he didn't think that Audrey would forgive herself. Every lunch break, she popped back just to make sure that he was still breathing, or to give him another pain potion to help him ease into his bed.

He was rereading all his favourite books in the time that Audrey was away. In the moments where he felt strong enough to get out of bed, he walked over to the counter and wrote more letters out. He imagined what he'd say to Fred if he finished Hogwarts. He wanted to give his congratulations to James for his engagement. He wrote long-winded letters to his daughters, what he'd say to them as they grew older, as they made their own money, as they fell in love, as they thought about having children, as they thought about moving away.

And when he really had the energy, Percy knitted. He sat on the couch, all by himself, and knitted his mother a Christmas jumper. He bought Audrey a pair of dangly earrings and another black dress and hid them in her drawers. He made his own mini-magazine for Lucy to read when she felt bad. He left his family watch, his heirloom, to Molly.

And every night, when Percy went to sleep, he wondered if it was going to be his last. And one day, it was.