in response to kumar timalsina's review, regarding nursing care: even in monitor beds if you're not in ICU setting, nurses don't actually see 100% of what happens in a ward all the time. a patient getting from one bed to another happens in just a few minutes, especially if their cannulas are not hooked up to anything and they don't need a nurse to remove it for them. and CPS is done as a separate inquiry, the nurses don't have anything to do with it. i just wanted to let you know. i hope you enjoy the rest of the story. in general, CPS and their decisions are explained more than them actually coming to talk to Percy throughout the story (because i want to spend that time fleshing out the character relationships instead). it'll be hinted later but this Percy's not very much a very talkative character, which you can see even now. he sort of keeps a lot to himself, so there's no use of me writing dialogue where they ask him questions and he just refuses to answer them. but this may change in the future. i'm still not sure about it.

The Mother Who Cried Werewolf

Chapter Ten

Percy Asks for Pillows

To our dear brother William,

I bet you'd be happy to know that we aren't responsible for any toilet mucking this year (though Lee would have to answer a few of them). We have moved on to bigger and better things—namely knickers that dissolve spontaneously when you sit on a chair and peppermint toads that hop straight out of you when you least expect it. But just in case you've missed us, I hope you enjoy the little present that we've left back home in the biscuit tin (Now, William, you should watch that girlish figure of yours if you want everyone to assume that you're merely a hairy lass that bathes every other day.)

We've heard from Ron that dad is letting mum come back home! This news has upset us because we're not there to witness our wonderful family come back together. Fortunately, we have plans to get ourselves expelled before the end of the year. Ron is not far behind us. So, if we by any chance crash your Sunday roast, well, you can't say that we didn't warn you!

Love,

Fred and George

Bill received twenty-six long-winded letters from his siblings asking the same five questions in a month.

'Is mum coming home? Is Percy coming home? Are you sure that we can't come back now? Does this mean that dad was wrong about Percy? Hey, do you know how to cheat on a History of Magic/Potions/Charms exam?'

Yeah, Bill wrote without an introduction. He'd never written to his younger siblings as much as he had in the last few weeks. He burned through two quills already. You know that! Perce is coming out of the hospital today if you've forgotten what I said in the last letter. But please, try not to get yourself into too much trouble, alright? Mum will probably leave us again if Ron fails this year or if you burn the castle down before you take your O.W.L's.

Bill missed receiving letters from George about how Fred was an arsehole or ones from Ron about how he didn't know why Hermione and Harry were upset with him. Lately, the letters he'd been receiving were repetitive and boring, not at all like his fun-loving siblings.

Almost everyone was ecstatic about Molly's return. The thought of seeing his mum again brought Bill such relief. The family unit disintegrated with the loss of their mum. He'd forgotten how she sounded and looked. Whilst he was in Egypt, she sent him massive packages of sweets, photographs and letters every other day, so the most he'd ever been without contact from Molly was a few days. He missed her barbed comments about how he needed a haircut and how big his earrings were (they're bigger than mine! Molly often said with a frown). He missed waking up to the aroma of bacon cooking in the pan or his mum humming to her radio. He missed having her ruffle his hair and scowl at its greasiness.

The knock on the door brought Bill back to reality. That must be them! He hastily wrapped the letter and shoved it at Errol without so much of a thank-you and then bolted towards the door. When he opened it, he saw his father holding two beaten holdalls. His eyelids were half-closed, swaying as if he'd had a few drinks. Molly was thoroughly done up with lippy and a pair of new bright green robes behind him. Her hands gripped the handles of Percy's wheelchair.

"Mum! Dad!" Bill said. He couldn't help but beam at them as he greeted them. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Help your father carry the bags, love. You know how bad his back is," Molly said.

Arthur did look a bit worse for wear. He looked like he might fall asleep on the spot. He was wearing too many coats and was drenched in sweat despite it being freezing in February.

"My back is fine, Mollywobbles."

Mollywobbles, Bill thought. That had to be good, right?

He had no idea what their relationship was like anymore. Over the past month, Arthur met Molly in Diagon Alley for chats and coffee dates. Arthur didn't explain much to Bill when he asked. How did it go? Are things alright now? What's mum been like? For all Bill knew, they hated each other furiously and were secretly plotting to murder each other in their sleep. But so far, they were acting as if nothing had happened.

"I can help you with the holdalls, dad," Bill said.

"There's no need for—"

"It's no trouble!"

"You're such a peach, sweetheart. I've missed you so much when I've been away." Me too, Bill thought.

Bill took the holdalls from his father. He almost fell over because it was like carrying two bricks even with everything shrunk! Had Percy needed all of this rubbish?

After Bill threw the holdalls on the couch, he turned to greet his mother properly. They hugged, and his mum peppered him with kisses and held his face like he was six years old. She told him how much she missed him and how glad she was to be back home. She said to him that things would be different, and she knew all about the Child Protection Services paying them a few visits here and there, but it didn't bother her one bit and that everything was fine. Child Protection? The light feeling that Bill had at the beginning began to disappear. He'd forgotten that the family was being monitored. He felt uneasy about having his mum back home so unceremoniously when there were people they would be scrutinising everything they did. But he pushed that feeling away. Today was a wonderful day.

Molly pushed Percy inside the living room. She fixed his jacket, kissed him and disappeared upstairs.

"Hey, Perce," Bill said. He leaned against the battered orange couch he'd thrown the holdalls in. "You doing alright?"

"Yeah," Percy said. He didn't look this bad in the hospital this morning. It was like he'd aged twenty years. There were bags under his eyes, his glasses were slipping from his face, and his skin had a blue tinge.

"Do you want me to take you to your bed?"

"No."

"No? I thought you told dad that you couldn't wait to get in your bed."

The conversation felt stilted.

"I can't lie down," Percy said.

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that," Bill said.

Percy got up from the chair. Bill felt the blood rushing out of his face.

"Hey, I can help with—" Bill was interrupted by Percy pushing him aside and walking towards his mum's yellowed Victorian armchair. "Percy!"

"What? What do you want?" Percy asked as he sat down. He had his held high.

Bill would've told him off for being a jackass if Percy wasn't dying.

"Should you be walking around?"

Percy jerked his head in Bill's direction. Percy pursed his lips together. "And who are you supposed to be? My healer?" he asked. Bill swore that when Percy was younger, his conversations were more poetic. It didn't consist entirely of defensive mechanisms and sarcasm. "I'm perfectly fine."

"You're perfectly stubborn," Bill said. "Wouldn't you be much more comfortable in your bed?"

"Absolutely not."

"Percy."

"Didn't I tell you I was fine? Leave it alone," Percy said. He acted like he was older than Bill sometimes.

Before Bill could say anything else, Percy got up from the chair and headed to the kitchen. Bill resisted the urge to follow him. After a few minutes, he could hear him furiously scribbling away. Bill wasn't sure if he was writing a letter or stabbing a piece of parchment with the quills they had in the kitchen with the sounds he was making. Bill sighed deeply. He'd found cracking cursed tombs easier than getting through to his brother.

"What's Percy doing out of his wheelchair?" Molly asked. Her hair was wet, and she smelled of cheap perfume.

Bill hadn't heard the sound of her footsteps or seen her until he listened to her talk. His eyes and nose wrinkled at the sight of his mum in an oversized neon purple frock dotted with massive embroidered white umbrellas. He'd forgotten about his mum's wardrobe. She looked like she got dressed in the dark.

"He wanted to write a letter," Bill said. "I think."

"His father said he has a girlfriend."

"Girlfriend? Percy?" Bill asked. He tried to imagine Percy with a girl, but his imagination failed him. He had more luck picturing Ginny planting one on Ron's mate, Hermione. "When did Percy get enough time to meet a girl?"

"I think she was a patient in the hospital."

"Figures Percy met someone when he's been comatose for a month."

"He still shouldn't be out of his wheelchair," Molly said. She narrowed her dark brown eyes and sighed.

"Yeah, I know, mum," Bill said. "I've told him that, but he wouldn't listen. He says he's fine."

"Your brother is so stubborn sometimes."

Percy was stubborn all the time. He reluctantly followed his mum to the kitchen. Percy was slumped over the kitchen counter, quill shaking in his hand as he wrote. His breathing was sharp and shallow, and beads of sweat formed along his hairline as if he'd been in a six-hour Quidditch tournament.

"Percy, come on. Let's go upstairs," Molly said. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot impatiently.

He ignored her and tied his letter with a limp orange ribbon that he found in one of the kitchen drawers before handing it over to Errol. As Errol complained, Percy stroked him. Bill may have imagined it, but he swore he saw a flicker of a smile on Percy's face.

"I don't like that room," Percy said. "I'm going to stay downstairs."

"Percival, don't be daft."

"I can sleep on the chair."

"You're not sleeping on a chair. You'll break your back," Molly said. Her voice rose with every word. "You are sleeping on a bed like everyone else, and you are going back to your room!"

"Mum, he can't lie flat," Bill said.

"And who are you supposed to be? His healer? They haven't mentioned anything like that to me," Molly said. Images of Percy struggling to breathe and his tracheostomy tube's noisy, wet sounds came into Bill's mind. Maybe she'd reconsider if she saw how much he struggled to lie down. "Come on, Percival."

Percy couldn't stand his ground for long. He let his shoulders drop in defeat and followed his mum back to the wheelchair. She levitated him upstairs to his room with a quick shake of her wand. Bill took the holdalls with him upstairs to have an excuse to follow them.

His room looked more depressing than Bill had remembered it. The walls were ashen grey. His bed looked recently starched with its bright blue duvet and white sheets. Bill didn't know how Percy slept on that. It looked like he was sleeping on a plank of wood. His desks mainly were empty. There wasn't much in the room beside his magical monitor, a rubbish bin beside the bed and a pair of tattered red slippers. He had a few shelves crammed with books and a few half-chewed quills in a quill holder.

"There, isn't that better?" Molly asked when Percy lay on the bed.

"Much better," Percy said. "I feel like I've been cured."

"That's enough of that, young man."

His mum tugged his shirt back and placed the leads onto his skin. Seeing them on reminded him of Percy in intensive care. The monitor roared to life, and the numbers flashed and glowed.

"I'll make you something to eat," Molly said. "Try not to be a hero in the meantime."

"Yes, I'll lie down here like a corpse," Percy said.

"Percival! This isn't like you."

"What do you know about me?"

"Come on, Perce," Bill said. "Mum is just trying to help."

"What do you know about that?" Percy asked.

As Molly left, Bill was left alone with his brother. He couldn't make out his expressions no matter how hard he tried.

"Perce? Are you alright?"

"Just peachy keen."

Percy's breathing was quicker than usual, but it didn't look like he was in distress, lying flat. Molly had been right about that. Bill thought Percy would be breathless, but he wasn't.

"How come you've never said anything about wanting to sleep downstairs?" Bill asked. He knew not to open the sore subject of his and Molly's strained relationship. That would have to come another time. "You've complained about how you want your bed every day in that hospital, but now that you're home, you want nothing to do with it?"

"I hate her."

That didn't answer Bill's question, but it wasn't something that he expected Percy to say. "Mum?" Bill asked.

"Who else do you think I'm talking about?"

"Perce, you don't have to answer everything so defensively."

Bill knew that he and Percy had a pathetic relationship all this time, but he thought that they were healing from that. At least, Percy seemed to talk more to him. This week, he found out that Percy knew a lot about Egyptian runes, and they spent hours talking about that. He liked the sound of a sandy, hot desert in the middle of nowhere and complained about being cold. Suddenly, those conversations evaporated to nothing?

"It's easy for you to say," Percy said. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Dad asked you if you wanted mum back home. You said you didn't care, so which is it?"

Percy stroked the nape of his neck, averting his gaze away from Bill.

"Perce, you're better than this," Bill said. He sat down at the edge of the bed. He hadn't noticed that he'd put the holdalls down by the door. He hadn't been paying attention. "If there's something between you and mum, you should tell someone."

"Nobody would believe me."

Bill swerved his head towards Percy's face, wide-eyed. "Are you daft?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Because you believed me on Christmas Eve then, did you? Charlie told me I was ruining it for the rest of the family! I tried my best, and you thought I was a prat like you always do."

"We didn't know then."

"And that makes it alright? Because you didn't know then?"

"Perce, don't talk like that."

"Oh, because that helps. You're the one that wanted to talk about it, but I can't say what I want because you don't want to take responsibility for how you've treated me all my life?"

The question stumped Bill. He had no idea what to say. Percy wasn't wrong, but he still didn't feel comfortable with everything that transpired between them.

"You all think you can come into my room, ask me a few questions, and I would pour my heart out for you," Percy said. "You don't think you have to earn my trust after throwing everything back into my face?"

"I thought that…that we were doing that."

"You extended me some basic human courtesy and expected me to fawn over how kind you've been to me. As if I've forgotten that you treated me like I was a nuisance to your life for years."

"Percy—"

"How dare you."

Bill paused. He tried to think of how to word what he wanted to say and felt relief when he did. "It's not that we expect that, Perce," he said. "All we asked is if it's okay if mum comes back home. We don't know anything that happened between you two. Everything seems tense, but we don't know why."

Percy sneered.

"Yes, why not give me the responsibility of my parent's divorce on top of everything else?" Percy asked.

Bill was stunned. The conversation made him realise how warped the situation was. He hadn't questioned it when his father told him that there wasn't any actual proof that Molly did anything that Arthur thought she had. But he remembered that the healers had said they'd flagged Molly in their systems. At the same time, when their mum left, Percy collapsed in the middle of the night after a lifetime of her claiming he was ill. Arthur didn't want to vilify Molly for no good reason, but he didn't want to put Percy in danger.

"I'm sorry, Perce," Bill said. He could practically see the family crumble in front of his eyes. "I'll talk to dad."

"Whatever."

Bill sighed.

"Can you make me a toastie?" Percy asked. "And get me a few pillows?"

It was the first time in ages that Percy had asked him for anything, so Bill took it as a small victory.

Bill left the room to get Percy pillows and make him a cheese toastie. By the time he was back, he had found Percy on the floor of his room. He was leaning lazily against his bed. He had a comic book in his hands, and he was so focused on reading that he hadn't even bothered to look up. Bill put down the toastie beside him, enlarged the shrunken pillows in his pockets, and threw them onto his bed. As he left, he paused when he heard Percy laughing. A toothy grin formed on Bill's face as he shut the door behind him.