The Mother Who Cried Werewolf

Chapter Fourteen

Blue Paint

"Hey," Oliver Wood said as he sat across from Percy and Audrey. Both Percy and Audrey had been drinking butterbeer.

Oliver had just entered the pub alone and seen them sitting when he'd gone in to say hello.

"Hey," Percy said to him as if they knew each other well. Percy knew that Oliver's mum had been taken ill, and Oliver knew that Percy's mother had abused him since he was a child. That seemed fair (not, Percy thought sarcastically).

Percy and Audrey met in Diagon Alley at a pub that Percy had never been to. It was a regular day smack in the middle of February. It was not too hot or too cold outside. The pub had charged him an arm and a leg for butterbeer, and he was sure that even his father, who felt quite bad about everything that had happened, would likely have a coronary if he knew that Percy had spent as much as he did on butterbeer (well, he had to buy some for his girlfriend as well).

The whole place looked like a stuffy officer worker's daydream, which meant that Percy was besotted with the décor. It was a lovely clean wooden palette with shades of brown, cream and beige. Audrey said that they all looked the same to her. The butterbeer had been served with doilies, and Audrey thought it was a crime against humanity.

She'd even bet the butterbeer had no 'real' sugar or cream. She'd told Percy that it had probably been extracted from a plant and was meant to open up your arteries and expand your lifespan by twenty-five years.

"You know Oliver Wood?" Audrey asked Percy. Her eyes were bright, her left eyebrow was raised, and her lips pressed together into a slight smirk. They were sitting in the middle of the pub, having a chill outing, when Oliver spotted them and started greeting them.

"I know you," Oliver said to Audrey, offering a smile that could land him on the cover of Witch Weekly magazine. His clothes were untidy, and Percy resisted the urge to smooth them over like Audrey did his hair sometimes. Oliver was wearing a neon green-coloured jersey shirt and a pair of trousers with more holes than Percy's usual old ones. "You used to play for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team before—you know…" Oliver made a sound like he was choking. Her asthma, Percy understood. How eloquent, he thought. A real prince.

Audrey rolled her eyes at Oliver's demonstration.

"Heard you've been home-schooled," Oliver said. "How is that?"

"Brilliant," Audrey said, and she'd meant it too. When Percy discovered that Audrey was home-schooled through their owls, he felt bad for her until he realised she loved it. His girlfriend was bloody mental, he'd decided. That was the only explanation. "Oh, and I get free discounts at the comic bookstore where Sunflower works for the babysitting."

"Great literature, that is," Oliver said but frowned when he noticed Percy's grimace. "What?"

"Great literature," Percy reiterated in disbelief. "It's a bunch of pictures with a couple of lines thrown here and there. I've read many comic books, but I'd hardly classify them as great literature."

"I'd like to see you try and manage a class with Snape and then go on about wanting to read literature," Oliver said.

Audrey sniggered. "I bet he'd looove Snape," she said. Percy felt left out of the conversation, but he told himself to deal with it. He couldn't sprint off to a train at Hogwarts, so what? Neither could Audrey, and she wasn't falling apart at the seams. He should let his eleven-year-old dreams go. "He's not gone to Hogwarts, but he's had all twelve O.W.L's."

It was freeing to think he didn't have to hold onto his childhood dreams so tightly. The expectation was gone then, and now he could do whatever he liked.

"You're mental," Oliver said. He stared at Percy with his mouth hanging wide open. He was used to people looking at him like that, but not so admirably. "Blimey, you're on something else, mate."

"Err… thank you?" Percy wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. Oliver laughed.

"Next round of butterbeer is on me," Oliver said. Well, Percy couldn't say no to a complimentary beverage.

When their drinks were brought round, Percy went straight for it. They were all sipping the foam off the butterbeer in blissful, comfortable silence. Percy felt like they'd been mates for years instead of just knowing each other for a little bit.

As Percy licked the foam moustache off his lip, Audrey grabbed his arm and started to shake it.

"Look, there's a drawing competition," Audrey said into his ear, jerking her finger at a poster on the wall that he hadn't noticed before. Firstly, pointing was rude, and secondly, so what? What was he going to do with that piece of information?

"And?"

"You should get in," Audrey said with a roll of her eyes. What? That was supposed to be obvious? "I've seen you draw."

What would Percy be doing entering a drawing competition?

"Yes, my little scribbles would stand against the big brimming portrait artists with years of experience. I see."

"It's not about the experience!" Audrey said. She started laughing, and there was a twinkle in her blue eyes. "If it were about the experience, then Oliver Wood would've beat me at Quidditch already."

"Hey!" Oliver frowned. Audrey shrugged like she didn't have a care in the world. She stood up and walked towards the counter.

"Your lass is mad," he said. "Certifiably mad."

"I know," Percy said, watching her come back with a few quills and a piece of parchment from the counter.

"Here!" she said as she slammed the parchment on the table. She gave Percy the quill. "Go on. Since you're not so keen, you can draw your submission now, and then we can post it by the local owlery before we head home."

"What?" Percy was sure she didn't just say that.

"Why not?" she asked.

Percy looked up at Oliver, who also shrugged.

"Go on then," Oliver said. "She's right, you know."

"The last round of butterbeer is on me," Audrey said.

"Well…" Percy wouldn't mind a third round of butterbeer. His family always made fun of the fact that he could be bribed by food. Maybe this was true. Perhaps he should keep an eye on that just in case they asked him to murder someone or something for a pasty (it would have to be a really good pasty, mind you. Not the cheap rubbish Charlie always brought home from the pub).

"Well?"

"I can't think of a single bloody thing to draw."

Things had been strange for the last few days. Percy was starting to find out a lot of things about everyone else.

Percy had found out that the toddler he'd seen when visiting Sunflower and Audrey that day was Sunflower's daughter, Louise. She was born from an awful relationship that Sunflower had when she'd been at Hogwarts (a right bastard, she said when she wanted to refer to him in conversation). They lost their parents a year ago. Percy wasn't sure how, but he also knew he shouldn't be asking. So now, Sunflower was the primary source of income for that little flat they owned. He'd found out most of this, staying up in Audrey's little dungeon, staring at her ceiling and talking for hours. Every time he'd understood their little family dynamic, she'd say something that would make it different again. He felt that way too sometimes about his family. Every time he had it figured out, someone did something to make him question it again. He didn't think he would ever understand what it was like for him to be in his family.

Did anyone know their family or understand every layer of their relationship with them? Did they have to? Did you have to know everything to understand the complexity of your love and your hate for each other?

Ron was doing a bit better in his classes, but his father was worried about how he'd get on for his exams. Ginny started asking less about the family dynamic and more about her first year at Hogwarts. Percy wouldn't imagine wanting to rob her of that excitement, just as it had been taken from him, so he tried to let her be as normal as she could in the face of what was happening. She kept turning to him, asking him, as if he'd know all about it, and it felt strange to see her so worried. He'd also forgotten how scared he'd been of his expectations and how well he had to do when he thought he would go too. He'd forgotten that a part of him had even felt relieved that he wasn't expected to do the things his brothers did. That he wasn't expected to be away from home.

Arthur wasn't called in as much into the things the twins did, which also helped lessen the family's stresses (at least Percy thought it might. He'd been a bit lost in himself for the last few years just as they'd been lost in themselves.)

Everywhere Percy looked, someone was ill or suffering. He'd thought it had just been him when he was living alone in that eerie room, but now, he knew everyone else was suffering too. You should get over yourself, he told himself, because he knew he pitied himself. Yes, not everyone suffered such laborious abuse by their mum, but not everyone's life was a garden of roses. His pain might be valid, but it didn't have to consume him twenty-four-seven. He'd already suffered a lot with how his mum used to act around him without him torturing himself mentally. It was easier said than done, though. He was still so bitter and so cold, so angry. He didn't know if he'd always feel like that. If he'd ever been able to let go of everything that had happened.

Percy stared at the blank sheet, unable to come up with anything.

"You like telling me about stuff nobody knows about," Audrey told Percy. Yes, he did like that. And? "And you like plants. You liked the plant that Sunflower was trying to plant near the windowsill." She turned to Oliver, "Flo thinks we can grow our herbs." Percy remembered picking up the small bud forming, smelling it, and feeling it in his hands. It felt soft, like a piece of cloth in his hand.

"You drew a lot of plants before," Audrey said. "When we were in the hospital together. Some of them looked funny."

Percy smiled at Audrey but bet it looked more like a grimace. Audrey grabbed Percy's hand and drew a streak across the parchment paper with his hand. It was just one curved line, and Percy stared at it. He felt like he could see a whole world open up in front of him and splashes of colours erupting from that one measly line.

"You can draw anything you want," she said. "I bet you can see something here."

He could.

"Oh," he said. "I see."

"Well, show us."

He imagined a spring day. It would be a dark afternoon, going into the early evening. Part of the picture he wanted to be dimmed down, and the other part would be light and bright. Percy could imagine people walking on a bridge together, with a stream running beside them. Trees flanked on each side of the bridge, all flowering, blooming. The stream would be a dark, murky green-blue with streaks of yellow and flecks of gold, he'd decided, the sand a bit darker brown as if it were desert sand. Or at least how he'd imagined desert sand to look. He'd never been anywhere worthwhile. It wasn't accurate by any means, but Percy let his imagination run wild. He'd draw three dogs, one small black one and two large furry beige dogs. An older man, two women talking to each other, a young lady with a stroller, and two children would be running after a younger one.

Percy chewed the end of the quill in thought.

The sky would be darker and smudged with an ominous blue and streaks of purple on the darker side of the photo and pink and orange on the lighter side. The trees would be the most crucial part; each twisted branch shaded intricately with leaves of every colour he could think of. Red, orange, yellow, green, pink, red again. They would be in the sand, in the stream, in the stroller, everywhere. Like little gems glistening on a crisp fresh day. Like a papery promise.

Not exactly the most accurate photo, mind you. It needed its creative licence, but Percy would go along with it.

"Good?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Well, get on with it."

Audrey didn't bother him, but she'd asked him what colours he needed as he was drawing. She dragged Oliver outside, and they bought him all the colours he could want and more.

They must've stayed there for hours. After the butterbeer, Percy decided to splash out on chicken pie and chips for them all (well, chicken pie for him and Oliver. Steak pie on the raw, bloody side for Audrey). They were all big eaters, each polishing the plate with every drop of gravy they had with it. By the time Percy had finished his chips, they were so stone-cold that they were vile to eat.

They all sat next to each other, with each of their touches poured into this drawing. Audrey wanted the trees to look a bit bendy and deformed. Oliver liked the idea that everyone wore funny jumpers of different colours. Percy wanted the wooden bridge to have shades of green, pink and purple, even if it didn't go with the rest. They stayed there until it slipped into the evening when they'd come to the pub at noon, fussing about with this drawing.

"You're really talented, mate."

"That pond looks like it's been weed in."

"It's not a pond, Audrey."

Percy hadn't noticed until the last hour how much his hand and fingers were cramping. They could've said their goodbyes then and come back the next day, but by eight at night, they'd all opened the paints that Audrey had brought. Percy couldn't imagine painting a drawing with others, but it worked out better than he'd ever hoped. The whole thing was painted and dried within an hour with a quick-drying charm (the bartender at the pub helped with that).

"We're done then," Audrey said to them. Percy had never been so tired but never felt so accomplished.

"We just need to drop it at the owlery now," Oliver said. "Have you memorised the address then?" he asked Percy.

"Yes," Percy said. He'd forgotten that Oliver knew that Percy had a near-photographic memory now. Explained all the O. was all that Oliver said when he'd heard of it. He was knackered in a good way. When he went to bed that night, he felt like he'd done something with his day. He hadn't felt like this in a long time.

Percy looked back at the drawing they'd made and felt a swell of pride. It was stunning. Percy's favourite part was at the end when Audrey started sticking glitter into the sky, so it looked so magical. It looked like something out of someone's dream. It looked like such a special place that they made.

Imagining making something else made Percy's imagination run wild. He could imagine a series of drawings, one after the other, with different colour combinations. With clouds made of marshmallows, pink and purple skies, polka-dotted frocks, grassy lanes with morning dew that went on forever. Percy could remember how it felt to close his eyes while reading a book, imagining a world beyond him as far as his mind could take him. Blimey.

He was walking around like he was drunk when they took him home. When his father answered the door, he let out a wheezy breath and thanked Audrey and Oliver for returning him home safely. Arthur ushered him inside the house and slammed the door behind him as quickly as he opened it.

"You're pushing it, Percival," Arthur said when Percy walked into the room. "Did you have a good time?"

"It was alright," Percy said. "I'm not that late." He flicked his eyes at the clock. It was nearly midnight!

"Not that late?" Arthur asked. His Adam's apple bobbed as he talked. "Even Charlie's in bed right now."

"He's probably drunk so much alcohol he's passed out in the bed by accident."

"That's not the point, Percival."

It was just nine a few minutes ago. He'd forgotten when they'd left the pub, but it couldn't have been that late, was it? Usually, when it got later in the pub, it became busy, but Percy supposed that maybe because it was a weekday…

"I hadn't noticed the time," Percy said with a sheepish smile.

"You've nearly made me have a heart attack," Arthur said with a long sigh. "I've almost passed out in the chair waiting for you."

Arthur had felt bad for him when he'd realised how bad his leg was that morning after they'd finished with the Aurors. His father took Percy to the hospital, where they had to re-break his bone and then set it again with a Skele-Gro to maintain a good alignment. After that excruciating experience, Arthur couldn't say no to anything that Percy asked. Especially when the next day, the CPS had come and asked him questions about everything, and Percy had to tell them all over again what had happened. They'd said they'd 'stay in touch' and hadn't said anything else since.

Percy felt he was reaching the end of that Arthur's generous mood with how late he'd come back.

"Charlie and Bill are going back to Romania and Egypt this week," Arthur said. Oh, Percy supposed that that made sense. Now that things were a bit better, they had to return to their jobs. They couldn't stay here under the guise of a family emergency forever. "You're going to have to be watching Ginny now instead of them when that happens." Percy thought that was strange, that he was given a responsibility like that when he'd never been given one. "So, no more dallying with your mates whenever you'd like unless you can take your sister with you."

Percy rolled his eyes.

"And do you know where the emergency wand is?"

"We don't have one," Percy said. "Charlie took it when he broke his last Christmas."

Arthur let Percy sleep in Ron's room now that Ron was away. They started working on his room a few days ago. At first, Percy had refused, but after some coaxing, he was subdued in organising the room for himself. Arthur let him choose the paint that weekend in Diagon Alley. Percy had chosen a cobalt blue. When Ginny saw the paint cans in the kitchen, she scoffed at him and told him that it was so typical that he'd chosen blue because he couldn't think of any other world under the sun to paint his room—which... was true. Percy wondered if a fresh coat of paint and a few cupboards could take away from everything he'd endured in that room. His father had already taken down everything else in the room, not that there was much else there. And instead of shopping for a new bed, Percy chose an exceptionally comfortable armchair that had probably emptied his father's Gringotts vault.

It was two in the afternoon, and Percy had just woken up from sleep. He'd fallen asleep on the couch downstairs while reading and had slept in the worst position possible. He found himself massaging his neck to get rid of the ache.

Arthur had called Percy into his room soon afterwards, demanding that he'd come in to help him with the painting. Percy couldn't help but feel relieved that he wasn't expected just to watch him else paint the walls when he was perfectly capable of helping out with the painting himself.

When he'd walked into the room, he felt his heart soften at his father slashing blue paint around mindlessly. Percy smiled as he slowly spello-taped the side of his room that he was working on. Just as he had finally made sure all his tape wasn't crooked, he felt something wet hit the back of his neck. He looked back to notice his father seemingly keeping to himself, ruining his walls with his haphazard paint rolls. Percy rubbed his neck and frowned when he caught sight of the paint on his fingers.

"What's this?" Percy asked his father, waving his hands around.

"What's what?"

"This!" Percy showed his father his blue-covered fingers. "You've left nothing to the twins!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur said. A small smile formed on his face, and his father was giggling. Giggling like a bloody schoolgirl that had been caught out stuffing love potions in her crush's pumpkin pasties.

"That's enough now," Percy said, turning to himself. Then he felt another wet splotch of paint hit his neck. "Hey!"

When he turned around, his father seemingly kept to himself, but he was smiling like he had some dirty secret.

"I know what you're doing!" Percy said to his father.

Percy noticed a mug that said BEST MUM beside Arthur that mainly had been drained out of its contents. Ron had bought that mug for Mother's Day at the insistence of Charlie. Percy grabbed the cup, filled it to the brim full of paint and then chucked the paint straight at his father's head. Arthur turned around at that moment to talk to him before he'd been assaulted with the colour.

Arthur tried to run away from the paint, but he was too slow for him. Cobalt blue covered his face, glasses and his balding head. "Percy! Have you not left anything for the twins?" his father said, trying not to laugh.

Percy was laughing to himself, blue paint smearing all over his hands as he knocked the mug over onto the floor. Arthur grabbed Percy's hand and stuffed it inside his paint can.

"I've caught you blue-handed," Arthur said, deadpanned.