i didn't re-read this after the editing much as i wanted to post this soon since it's been some time since i've posted. hopefully, there aren't a lot of errors xx

The Mother Who Cried Werewolf

Chapter Twelve

Deceptive Looks

"Flo is wondering if we're allowed to have sex," Audrey told Percy as she laid back on the bed. She looked amused. Percy went so red that Audrey started laughing. "Am I that hideous?"

"Horrifically so."

"Arsehole."

Percy had just had his first kiss. He didn't even know if they were even together. He wasn't even sure if he could have sex with anyone without killing himself. Then he'd have to explain that to his parents. Yes, he was just having it off with a girl when he suddenly developed chest pains! They'd never let him out of the house again.

"Do you ever think about stuff like that?" Audrey asked.

"No," Percy said. He was playing with the hem of his shirt.

"What do you think about then?"

"I suppose the sort of things first-years think about before going to Hogwarts."

He still thought about all the pets he would get, the books he would devour, and the people he would meet in his life. Audrey was the first person that he met in the longest time, and he wasn't even sure if it was desperation that left him progressing their relationship so quickly (he did like her, he liked her a lot, but he didn't know if it was because he had nobody else). He didn't have any mates. The most he ever experienced was a short trip to Diagon Alley, and he'd only been to a few shops his mum pre-approved.

"Hogwarts is not that great," Audrey said, but she didn't sound convincing.

"I suppose not," he said. Everyone kept telling him it wasn't that great, and he wasn't missing out, but he had been. It was so easy for them to say, wasn't it? They weren't locked in their rooms and forced to drink potions that made their head feel funny.

Percy felt there was no way he would go to Hogwarts now. He thought he might be okay with it, but he wasn't. He was angry that everyone in his house had memories of things he couldn't even imagine doing. Everyone else brushed it off. Why should they care about it? It wasn't like it was bothering them that his life was so bleak.

"Maybe when you're better, you can go," Audrey said after some time.

Percy somehow doubted he'd be getting better. How Bill looked at him, it was like he thought he would die at any moment. Maybe he was. Nobody told him anything. "I'd prefer we change the subject," he said. He didn't want to talk about what he could do when 'he was better.'

"You need nicer clothes," she said. Then without skipping a beat, she also said, "Flo has firewhiskey."

"I'll pretend like I haven't heard the last part."

"Okay, so… we can talk about how most people wear things that don't have thirteen holes."

"You've counted how many holes are in my trousers?"

"It's like a dragon has gnawed on them."

"I wouldn't know, Audrey. I've never even seen a dragon."

She slapped him playfully on his shoulder. If he hadn't been watching, he would've barely registered how it felt to have her fingers brush against his arm. "You can take some of my clothes," she said.

"I don't want your vampire woman clothes."

"They're unisex; I'm pretty sure."

She got up from the bed. He watched her open her wardrobe, the wooden doors sliding away with a squeak. He almost had his retina melting at the onslaught of colours. It didn't match the black walls and her endless collection of massive leather boots. She threw an oversized black jumper at him.

"Do you want pants?" she said. "Maybe you'd find it weird wearing my pants."

He'd find it weird wearing her jumper too. "I think I'm alright," he said.

"It's going to get cold later tonight, and I'm going to kick you out so you can sleep on the couch."

"I'm alright."

"I'm not taking that jumper back."

Now, he knew why Bill had so many girlfriends. If they were all so annoying, maybe Percy could do without them. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her. "That's up to you," he said.

"You're so stubborn," she said. "But so am I, so we'll see how who wins out."

Percy spent most of the evening eating sweets. He'd accidentally eaten something that tasted metallic and realised it was blood. Audrey laughed and kissed him as disgust filled his face. She licked the blood off his mouth. So, he supposed he'd experienced that for the first time. He ate so much food that he sat on the couch, trying to digest it. He was going to play chess with Sunflower and Audrey but accidentally fell asleep.

The last thing he heard before he succumbed to sleep was the sound of Audrey and Sunflower laughing.

He hadn't even woken up when his father had dropped by and practically tore him out of the couch.

"Bye!" Sunflower said as Percy was being dragged out of the flat. "Audrey is still asleep, but I see you're in a hurry, so…I'll see you later, I guess!"

Percy was still drooling and hadn't even washed his face. By the time he'd even registered that it was the following day, Percy was in the middle of London with unkempt hair and dirty teeth. He looked so bad that even he felt embarrassed at how he looked. His father was groomed perfectly with lovely Ministry robes whilst Percy looked like he hadn't had a shower in a month.

"Dad," Percy said, his wrist aching with how aggressively his father dragged him across London.

"Your mother's staying over today," Arthur said. "Just today until Muriel could sort out a room for her again."

"Dad," Percy said. His voice was low, and his wrist still hurt.

"What?" Arthur looked like he was shocked back into reality. "Did you say anything?"

Percy sighed. "No."

He gave up after the first attempt of trying to hold his father's attention. He could barely remember the rest of the journey and was still half-asleep when they reached the Burrow. The second that Arthur took Percy to his room, a feeling of dread hit him, but he tried to brush it off. He was so tired of being in that room.

"Was it alright?" Arthur asked. He was glancing at his watch.

"Yes," Percy answered. "I—"

"That's great!" Arthur grabbed him and hugged him tightly. It lasted a few seconds, and Percy hated every second of it. "I'm dreadfully late for work. I'll see you tonight. If there's anything, send me an owl. I don't think your mum will be much of a bother today. She seems tired," he said, and then before Percy had a second to realise what had happened, Arthur bolted out of the room.

Not be much of a bother today, Percy mused. And he bet the twins were getting top marks in all their classes.

After his father left, Percy took a long shower and changed into the first thing he found in his closet. After Audrey's comment on his clothes, he could think about how threadbare everything he had was. He could count holes on everything he picked up. He didn't notice that much before. His hair was a bit long, and his skin and hair were greasy. It was almost like he'd covered himself in a film of cooking oil. He thought he looked highly unpleasant, and for the second time in the day, he was embarrassed about how he looked, that people had seen him like that.

He slapped on whatever he found in the medicine cabinet that looked like it belonged to Ginny. He was more than a bit dumb when it came to these sorts of things, but he supposed that Ginny might know something about it, considering the slew of skin care products she had.

He tried to comb his hair, but it was difficult. He was even more embarrassed when he realised that it was matted to the point that he needed scissors just to get through it. After two hours in the shower, he was left with aching arms and didn't even look that much better. He blotted his face until it was almost dry and papery.

At around ten in the morning, he climbed back into bed and fell asleep.

On a regular day, he would wake up in the afternoon, eat, maybe read a few chapters of the book he was reading (he could hardly recall what it was about), and then take another nap. He'd be woken up to join dinner and listen to bits of a conversation here and there before he'd go to bed for the rest of the night. That was all he did. When he had O. to study for, he had something to drive him to be awake, but he had all twelve O. , and nobody cared, and it wasn't like he was going to do anything with them anyway. So, why would he bother going for his N.E.W.T's?

But that afternoon, his mother woke him up.

"What have you done with your hair?" was the first thing Molly asked.

"I just…I cut it," Percy said. "What time is it?"

"It's awful," she frowned. "Even Ginny's haircut is better than this! Well, we'll just have to fix that now, won't we?"

"Fix it?" Percy said, yawning. He rubbed his eyes. "Fix it h—?"

She managed to get him into a pair of old robes with a few swipes of her wand.

"Mum!" Percy said. "What's going on? Where are we going?"

"Out," she said before she forced him onto his wheelchair. She whisked him away to Diagon Alley before he could tie his shoes on correctly.

Since it was the second time he'd been taken somewhere when he'd just woken up, Percy didn't even react.

In the middle of the afternoon, he was in Madam Malkin's, where his mum was erratically looking through robes, trousers and shirt sets. A few people passed him by and took a look at him, giving him a pitying look that he was used to. Some people had never seen anyone with a tracheostomy tube before. They probably didn't think he understood them when they talked about how bad they felt for him. It rubbed him the wrong way, but he ignored it.

"You're costing your father a pretty penny," his mum said when she was done paying for his new clothes.

"Pardon?" Percy said, but his mother didn't say anything else.

After the robes shop, Molly took him to get his hair cut and treated at the barbershop. That took an hour, and he found himself being drained of energy. Being around his mum made him perpetually exhausted. He couldn't look at her without envisioning a massive bed with a thick duvet and fluffy satin pillows. In his greatest fantasies, the covers were warm to touch, and he didn't feel so alone when lying in bed.

As the day wore on, things became tenser. Molly was in a foul mood, and he could tell. She was going from shop to shop without speaking to him, holding her head high and huffing whenever he said anything about how tired he was or if he could have a drink. They didn't stop for lunch, and Percy didn't want to ask his mum if he could eat. When he fell asleep in the wheelchair after his hair had been cut and his mum had bought him new clothes, she woke him up and yelled at him, telling him that she was there for him, so the least he could do was try not to fall asleep.

"You're the one that wants to be out of the house all the time," she said. "Now, you're out of the house like you want. So, the least you could do is stay awake."

Percy raised an eyebrow at her. He said nothing. They headed to the local farmer's market at the third stop, where his mum bought half-off tomatoes and potatoes. When she returned, she placed the bags down on the handles of his wheelchair. Percy succumbed to sleep again as she pushed him away from the market.

He had just closed his eyes, just for a few seconds. But the next thing he knew, he flew across the street and fell straight onto his left leg. The sound of the blow was crushing. The pain that he felt was sudden and excruciating.

"Oh, Percy!" his mum said. "Percy!"

As Percy sat up, his face went white. He was in so much pain he couldn't talk. He noticed that his left leg looked like it was bent. Like it wasn't in its proper position. He stared back at his mother, who was bloody mental.

"Hey, are you okay?" a young woman had stopped by to help out. She was pushing a baby in a stroller, drooling over their sleepsuit. She had a small child standing beside her, asking her, "What happened to the weird boy, mummy?"

A teenager stopped by too. He was tall and well-built, and Percy felt like he'd seen him.

"Hey, you're Fred and George's brother," he said. "I'm Oliver. I'm their friend. I'm going to help you out." He grabbed Percy's hand and pushed him up to stand. His leg felt unsafe to stand on, and Percy felt so nauseous from the pain that he felt like he would throw up on the side of the road.

"It's alright," Oliver said to the young woman, who nodded. Percy watched her push the stroller away as the preschooler continued asking questions, "What's that thing on his neck, mummy? Can we get ice cream? Do you know if Carly likes ice cream too?"

"Oh, thank you, Oliver," Molly said. She knew him too. "Don't know how he fell."

"Hey, Mrs Weasley," Oliver said. He practically carried Percy like he was a feather and plopped him back down onto the wheelchair. Percy bit his lip hard, trying not to scream in pain. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked Percy.

Percy pushed him back. He buried his head in his hands. The pain and his exhaustion made it hard for him to focus.

"Hey, it's alright," Oliver placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Mrs Weasley, do you need help getting to the hospital?"

"I should be fine, love," Molly said. She laid a blanket on top of him, which made him angry because everyone assumed you were a good mum if you put a blanket over your child. His mum put Merlin-knew-what in his medicine to make him sleepy and then got angry at him for falling asleep in the middle of her running her errands.

I can talk, Percy wanted to say, but his head felt too heavy and fuzzy for him to speak. I'm not an invalid.

"I'll help you to the hospital," Oliver said. "It's no trouble at all."

Through his tired eyes, Percy could see his mum's face change. It had gone from shock to anger to a fake happy surprise. "Oh, love, that would be nice," she said. Percy was sure she wanted to take him home because she'd have difficulty explaining to the hospital staff how he slipped out of his wheelchair. "But Percy doesn't do well around strangers."

Oliver wavered.

"Oh…oh, alright," he said. He didn't sound convinced. "I'll come by tonight. See how it's going."

"You do that, love," Molly said. She sounded relieved.

The gallant hero, Percy rolled his eyes. He said nothing as he was being whisked away yet again. He was getting tired of that, annoyed at everyone taking him places with zero communication. His mum hadn't even told him where they were going that day or why, but he knew. He knew his mum had taken him to the barbershop, had his hair done, and bought him new clothes because she wanted to be prepared for the Child Protection Services. Merlin knew what day that would be, but it wouldn't look so good if his hair hadn't been combed in months.

"What have you done?" Molly asked Percy. As if he had fallen off the wheelchair by himself.

"Merlin knows," Percy said with a shrug. "I think you should be able to answer that."

"What's that supposed to mean, Percival?"

"You didn't have to bring me with you," he said. But his mum felt like she had to. Percy bet his mum thought he was a thieving crook underneath his guise of a son with heart failure.

"Leave you in the house alone?" Molly asked. "I couldn't even turn away without you doing something to yourself."

"Of course, that's the story," Percy said stiffly.

"What story?"

You're delusional, he thought.

Percy was not stupid. His mother didn't have to talk to him for him to know what she was doing. She probably tried not to slap him in public, but she just couldn't resist throwing him off his wheelchair because she felt like he was such a horrible son, and she was trying her best to accommodate him and his defiance.

He hadn't ended up going to the hospital that time. She took him back home instead.

The house was empty when they'd arrived. Bill was out at Gringott's, and Charlie was Merlin-knew-where. Somewhere that was better than the Burrow, Percy would reckon. He saw Ginny beam at him from the couch and wave as his mum took him back to his room.

His mum removed his speech valve from the tracheostomy tube and force-fed him a vial of Skele-Gro, which Percy screamed through and refused to take. The taste was so vile that Percy had difficulty keeping it down. He knew if he threw it up, he'd be made to take another dose. The pain of his leg re-growing was as impossible as it was last time. He could barely soothe himself with his thoughts. Eventually, he started sucking on his thumb to distract himself from the pain. When it stopped, he was so relieved that he passed out and slept.

He heard a knock on the door, and Percy fuzzily awoke. He saw Arthur walk into his room. His heart started beating rapidly, wondering if his father wanted to take him away to somewhere else when all he wanted to do was be alone.

"Hey, Percy," he said. He was still in his work robes. They weren't as pressed and friendly as they were that morning. They were wrinkled, and there was ink in his hair. "Did you sleep well?"

Percy nodded his head.

"I was just talking to your mother," Arthur sat at the edge of his bed, placing a hand on his calf. "I thought we could go to that new Indian place that's opened. You, me, Charlie, Bill and Ginny." There was a twinkle in his eyes. The only thing less appealing to him than going to eat dinner with them was dawning another vial of Skele-Gro. "Your mum said that Fred and George's mate, Oliver, might drop by. That you fell from the wheelchair? Have you?"

Percy nodded his head again. He did not want to talk about that.

"Did you fall?" Arthur asked. "Your mum hadn't…Molly hadn't pushed you, had she?" he whispered as if it was too much for him to bear to think of that.

What was Percy supposed to say to that?

If Percy felt comfortable around his father, this would be the time to admit that, no, he did not fall out of his wheelchair. But his father did not talk to him like a normal person. Instead, he had to talk about the nice family plans he had before that were dependent on Percy not telling him that he was sure his mum pushed him out of his wheelchair.

Percy shook his head. He would've talked, but he remembered that his speech valve was gone, and his father hadn't noticed the missing cap.

"You've had a good time then, have you?" Arthur asked. "Shopping for new robes." He was smiling, beaming. "You look so much better now with your new hair." Percy wished he'd stop talking because he was dangerously close to telling him (or, well, trying to) to get out of his room and leave him alone. He was not going to pretend to be cheery for his father.

"Things are going to be different now," his father said. "Your mum's going back to Muriel's tonight, and after that, we'll work things out gradually."

Percy was sick of hearing about how different things were going to be. Arthur placed a hand on his thigh, right across that leg that had been Skele-Gro-ed back together, and he twitched. Arthur hadn't noticed and left the room, blissfully unaware. Percy wished he could live his life like that too.

An hour later, his mum returned to the room with his speech valve and the nicest clothes that Percy had ever worn. If he hadn't been so exhausted and detached from everything, he would've felt excited. He had a pair of loose black trousers, a white button-down and a pair of black robes. He even looked marginally okay with his new hair and new clothes. He could comb his hair any way he wanted and made sure his face wasn't greasy before he left.

Walking was a challenge. He had the most obvious limp. His leg looked strange. It felt like it didn't grow back right, but he ignored it. He knew that he had broken it and his leg was bent, but he didn't understand why it looked like that.

Percy could barely walk without feeling pain in his leg, so he opted to sit in his wheelchair.

When Arthur came by, Percy said that he was too tired to walk, and that was that. He felt like the day would never end. When Arthur helped him downstairs, Percy felt even more dread when he realised everyone was dressed and talking animatedly to each other. Fred and George's mate, Oliver, was also there, and he was engaged in a conversation with Charlie about Quidditch. Percy had a vision of them recreating the night at the Chinese restaurant and felt terrified. He couldn't feign any excitement. He supposed he'd just have to keep his feelings to himself. He didn't want another repeat of that night's chilly events.

The Indian restaurant his father had taken them to was nicer than the Chinese one.

It didn't look like it was about to fall apart. The colour palette seemed to consist of creams with muted browns and greens, so soothing that even Percy felt himself relax when he'd been seated. The couches were made of velvet, with plushy pillows you wished you could take home with you. The table was so clean that Percy could see his reflection bouncing off it. There was a warm scent of spices, notably cinnamon and cloves.

Percy felt appropriately dressed for the first time in a long time. He felt like everyone in the restaurant looked nice, and he looked nice as well. The cosiness of the restaurant almost took his attention away from the throbbing pain in his hip and thigh. When it came time to order, he took twice as long as everyone to pick because he didn't feel hungry.

The waiter bought a basket of chapati bread and vibrant coloured sauces. Percy felt his stomach turn.

"Do you want anything?" Charlie asked Percy, who shook his head. "Really? You?"

"I ate a whole sleeve of biscuits," Percy lied.

Ginny shook her head. "Our resident biscuit finisher."

"That's what happened to my bourbon biscuits," Bill said.

Percy had eaten them, but it was a few days ago.

As his family ate around him, Percy sank into the couch. He hadn't eaten anything that day, and usually, he'd have polished that basket by himself, he'd wager. But the effect of the Skele-Gro made him feel sick. He could hardly look at anything without feeling nauseous and weak. He could barely listen to the conversation because his mind felt so messy and distant. He felt relief when they bought the tea, and Percy took a few sips, warm and sweet. It was comforting to his weary body. But the smell of his food made him feel like retching all over the dinner table.

"I'm sure things will be alright at Muriel's," Molly said. "It's nice to see my sister."

"We'll miss you, mum," Ginny said. "Maybe we can visit Aunt Muriel too."

"I'm not sure if she'd like that, love."

"What's happened then?" Oliver asked. They seemed to forget that he was there.

"Minor troubles is all," Molly said so smoothly you'd have thought that it was about a few legalities that needed smoothing out. "But I've to move out of the house for a bit. It's all court-related stuff."

"Oh," Oliver said, but he sounded unsure.

"I'm sure things will be cleared up," Arthur said. "We'll be the better for it."

Charlie scoffed. "You lot all need therapy," he mused lightly as he shook his head.

Percy didn't understand the conversation. Nobody was angry at Molly, but the separation was required. If the allegations were so bad, why was the atmosphere so light? It was like his father already knew it was temporary.

He drank his tea but couldn't face his meal. The conversation around the dinner table died down as he pushed chicken around his plate like it would come back to life and attack him.

"Percy?" Molly moved to hold his hand and shake it. He could feel a fingernail dig into his palm. "Eat your food."

Percy sat up straight. "I am," he said.

Arthur moved to feel for his temple for a temperature. Percy felt like he was six years old. Why did he have to do this out here?

"I'm fine," Percy said. Just stop humiliating me, he thought.

"I could take him back to the Burrow, Mr and Mrs Weasley," Oliver said. Percy hadn't heard much of the conversation, but he'd been talking about Quidditch nonstop with Charlie. "He looks tired."

You could talk to me, Percy thought. You could ask about what I wanted, but nobody did. Everyone nodded. Arthur and Charlie frowned as Percy was helped out of the table. By the time Percy collapsed back onto the chair, Percy had inched forward and thrown up all over his lap, ruining his new clothes. His white button-down was covered in tea-coloured vomit.

"I'll come with you," Charlie said as he stood up. "Hey," he placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "It's alright."

It was not alright.