usually, i edit more than once but nowadays, i've been editing just a little bit less so apologies for any obvious issues with the wording. this is technically the last chapter, and the one after is just an epilogue.


Stay A Day in My Coffin

Chapter Thirteen

The Gravesite


Percy had the worst headache in the whole entire world. He genuinely thought that maybe, he was dying when he woke up from his sleep. He didn't even remember what had happened and suspected that he had drunk more firewhiskey than his body could take. When he woke up, he felt a warm, strong hand on his shoulder and saw a fuzzy image of his father leering over him. Percy leaned back, not realising that he was on a chair and tripped, crashing straight into his (extremely thin) carpeting. He groaned, burying his head into his hands. He felt like he'd just woken up from a coma.

"Percy?" Arthur looked apprehensive.

"Is that you, Perce?" George leaned towards him, grabbing one of his clammy hands.

"Don't know if it works like that," Ron snorted. "You know, a spell and Percy's back in his body."

Why was he sweating? Merlin, it was a hundred degrees in here.

"Percival?" Arthur called out softly.

"No, it's Merlin's Great Ghost," Percy retorted back, rubbing his neck. He kept his eyes closed because for some reason, someone had Lumos-ed all the lights on and it was distressing. "Who else were you expecting?" then he opened one eye and realised that he was adjusting to the light. Even his headache felt a little better.

"I'm getting a little déjà vu here," George was trying not to grin. "You know Fred thought he was drunk when—"

"When what? And what do you mean I'm not drunk?" Percy was operating on the principle that he'd had a few drinks. Why else would he feel so absolutely rubbish? "You haven't managed to drag me into The Leaky Cauldron for a couple of pints now?" even his tongue felt heavy.

"Don't know if I could persuade you," Ron mumbled. "You really don't remember anything?"

Then it had hit him. The funeral, the days after the funeral, his not-so-ceremonious goodbye from the world, Fred being in his body, and then swirling in the midst of that, the thoughts that Fred had had, the memories that he'd been leafing through, the memories, memories, memories. All down to five-year-old Percy whacking about his toy wand like it was something meaningful. Percy took a sharp inhale, feeling like he'd been punched in the stomach. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the feel of the world before him.

"Oh, wait, I…I do."

Ginny perked up. "You do?"

"I suppose I was dead," he supposed that was the technical term for what he had been. He had literally been brought back from the dead; he had swapped his body—successfully—with his brother's for a few days. "Yes, unfortunately, I can remember everything now…no thanks to anyone in this room. Is there a reason why everyone is swarmed over me like I'm an unsuspecting rabbit about to be snatched off by a hawk?"

"Ever the optimist, you were," Audrey said, and hearing her voice was so good.

"You know who you married," Percy counteracted.

"Are you alright, love?" his mum looked at him like she didn't even recognise him.

"I'm perfectly fine," Percy didn't even know how he was like, but that would be his answer regardless. He sat up straight. He didn't bother getting off the floor. He'd put on at least half a stone he'd reckon, and he was wearing the most ridiculous clothes. He looked like a clown. He pulled his glasses off and then was rubbing his eyes.

"You really remember everything?" Ginny swooped up behind him.

"When you mean everything, you mean…?" George started prompting.

Percy turned to the side and rose to his feet. He was swaying a little. He felt like he might fall any second. Before he did, he was caught by Arthur. Percy's face went pink.

"I mean I remember everything," Percy winced. Even the things that Fred had thought about him or said about him. "Even the bits where Fred was…" his voice trailed off. Blimey, his deepest, darkest secrets and Fred was running his mouth, telling his family ever single one. "Unbelievable. Absolutely…" he no longer thought of Fred as the victim, with what he was going about. In fact, he wished that Fred was still there so that he could throttle him to death himself. "I was giving Fred a chance to say goodbye, not rattle off my life secrets."

He could feel his father behind him hold in his breath.

George grabbed Percy by his waist and pulled him so close, wrapping his arms around him as hard as he could.

"You absolute arsehole," George's voice cracked. "I can't believe that you…"

"Do we really have to do this bit? That's enough for a reunion I believe—and I have other things to do with my day besides this," Percy's throat a little scratchy as he spoke. He wanted a cup of tea, and he wanted to sit down and enjoy said cup of tea. "Although I haven't mentioned it, I'm very parched and I'd like a cup of tea."

"A cup of sugar, you mean," Audrey told him off, half-smirking into the corner.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Percy managed to slowly detach George away from his body—and his personal space for that matter. He ran his hand through his hair, which was curlier and more unkempt than ever. Fred hadn't even bothered to brush his hair. But he did feel the tension in the air, of the things that went unsaid. He didn't want to talk about them, and he was sure that everyone in the room knew that he didn't want to talk about it.

Ron looked at him aghast. "You're fucking mental—"

"And let's forget this ever happened," he shot a look towards George, almost a glaring, dare-to-defy-me look, and George said nothing. "Any discussion of how mental I was or am included in that preface."

Ron's ears went red. "I don't mean—"

"I know what you meant, and I take no offence," Percy cut him off with a dismissive wave.

"Forget that this happened," Arthur echoed incredulously. "I don't think that's—"

"It is very possible, father," Percy squared his shoulders up. "Is that what you were going to say? That you don't think that it's possible?"

Arthur went quiet for a moment. "Well, yes," he sounded tentative.

He didn't want to revisit all that stuff that had happened from way before. He just wanted to be able to go through the whole day without remembering that Fred had trudged up all that stuff from before that Percy wanted to forget about.

"I don't want to talk about anything," Percy's tone was finite, a subject closed.

"Merlin, Perce, you're such a stubborn old goat," Ron replied, almost forgetting how he was like.

"Yeah," Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, it was easier to feel sorry for you when you weren't here."

"I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me," Percy straightened his back like he didn't just come back from the dead. Like he was on a holiday, enjoying a cup of drinks and decided to come back home. "And I don't want to discuss this further."

"Fine," there was a devious look in George's eyes and Percy knew for a fact that that was not the last time that he'd be bringing that back up. "You knew you were coming back all along then, weren't you?"

"I had my suspicions," Percy didn't know that Fred would've been able to remember all that rubbish. He'd placed his hands into the pocket of his coat, which he would've never worn indoors. He stuck out like a candy-coloured thumb. He wanted a change of clothes rather drastically—and would like to have that cup of tea as soon as possible.

"But you weren't sure."

"Of course, I wasn't sure." Percy had barely read the text when he'd asked Audrey to perform that spell. He had finally collected his thoughts and he wasn't even sure if he was in possession of his faculties when everything had happened. "And that's the last I'm going to say about the subject." He looked up at his wife, who was trying to read him because she always was. He jutted his chin, "Alright. Well, I'll be going to take a shower."

Percy knew he was running away from an inevitable conversation, but he was going to delay it as much as he could.

After a shower, a change of clothes from his wardrobe and a cup of tea by the kitchen table, Percy tried to ignore all the feelings that he was having. For a total of about the half-hour that he'd been back, he was indifferent to everything but now, he felt ill. Like there was a heavy thing of lead sitting in his stomach. The tea that he was drinking was both soothing and contributed to the weight that he felt.

"I missed you," Audrey sat down beside him, grabbing his hand and caressing it gently.

"I know," Percy didn't dare look at her.

Audrey didn't say anything else, and Percy expected that of her. She'd always caught him off guard, always knew when to approach him—as if he were a feral dragon that would bite at you at the wrong turn and dissolve into your hold another. Not that Percy knew much about feral dragons. He'd suppose there'd be more fires and burn marks when they were concerned. But he'd read a lot of books about them (mostly comic books, Percy digressed).

"You can't avoid this forever," Audrey warned him, but Percy said nothing because he knew he couldn't. "Fred's written you a letter before he left. I took it." She flashed him the battered-looking envelope, but he could barely look at it.

"Yes, I know, I remember," Percy said a little harshly.

"Do you?"

"Yes, I…" Percy didn't want to remember what Fred had written in the letter.

"Are you okay?" of course, he wasn't fucking okay. What was she getting at?

Percy closed his eyes. "I'm perfectly fine," he sounded furious. That was better than any other emotion that was running through him. He didn't want to talk anymore, and he'd made that perfectly clear. He had a right to be angry.

"Percy," she said his name almost pleadingly, and he didn't know what to say.

His mouth went dry. Percy didn't know how to get through whatever he was feeling. Everything was so heavy. He could feel the tension in the atmosphere, and all he wanted to do was run away from it.

"Mum, can I take the cup with me?" Percy finally asked.

"What do you want to do with that—"

Percy cut her off. "Good. Thank you." He grabbed the mug with him and apparated away without further warning.

The last thing he'd heard was, "Perce, where are—"

He could imagine his family's confused faces, and it just made him want to do this even more. He'd found himself out in the middle of Diagon Alley, with a mug of cold tea from his mum's kitchen. He was in an alleyway, and rain was pelting onto the ground, into his cup. He could taste it as he drank. He chugged down his tea so hard that he could barely taste it, the sweetness of it, the milkiness, none of it. He could barely remember how he got here.

He slunk down to the ground, feeling himself take a deep inhale as his heart thudded into his chest. Hot tears were burning into his eyes, running down his cheeks so hard that he could barely see what was in front of him.

After he spent a better part of half an hour crying on the ground like a sad sob, he did actually feel a little bit better. But he'd only continue feeling 'a little bit better' as long as he was far away from his home. The idea of having to apparate back to the Burrow left him almost sick. They looked at him and all they saw was someone that they had to fix as soon as possible. They looked at him and thought that if he'd just taken his potions and talked about his problems, that everything would be fine. As if it was that easy to just let go of himself, as if it was just easy for him to do what he did, to go, to come back, to just be as he was. Percy took a sharp inhale, paralysed by his fears.

After the tears had tried up on his face and he was sure that his eyes were no longer bloodshot, he had walked down Diagon Alley. He placed his hands into his pockets and stared at the world before him passing by. Everything went on, eventually.

He stopped by The Leaky Cauldron to wash his face and then got himself another cup of tea. He walked down Diagon Alley rather aimlessly, looking for somewhere to go, something to do. His eyes kept wandering back to quill shops, robes shops, Quidditch shops. And he'd wandered around the streets so much that he wasn't at all surprised when he'd managed to bump into Angelina Johnson, who had known immediately that he wasn't Fred when she looked at him. He looked a little taken back for a few moments.

"Mr Weasley," Angelina resumed her usual stance when she'd been at the Ministry. "I—"

"I haven't forgotten where I've put them," Percy finally said, his voice a little strained. "That family."

"You haven't?" she answered back with a squeak, like she didn't know how to tread the waters she was in.

"Not really…sometimes."

"Not really?" she echoed.

"No," Percy answered back softly. He looked down at his feet. "They never wanted me to…they didn't want to come back after the war. Wanted to live muggle lives, and they never felt like…they never felt like they belonged here. The parents begged me to. I've…I visited them before, from afar and they looked rather happy. They asked me not to disclose their location and I've…I never have. Not that I have to try very hard to forget." Percy only remembered in flickers where he'd kept them. He was the best person to entrust a secret to, he'd suppose, of that magnitude.

"Oh," Angelina looked a little surprised at that, but then dropped her shoulders.

Percy said nothing but waited for her to say something. Because she did want to say something.

"I told him that I loved him," it was the last thing she'd probably wanted to say to him. Even though Percy was sure that Fred had always known. Percy nodded his head weakly.

"I know," Percy answered back. Beyond Fred, they had nothing in common with each other.

Angelina gave him that same look that he was terrified of. That pitying look, that oh-you-poor-thing look that made him feel like he was less of a human being. "Do you…do you think that you're going to be okay? With everything?"

Percy opened his mouth to answer, but he was tongue-tied, lost for words.

She walked over to him, hugged him so tightly that he felt like his breath had been knocked out of his chest. He could feel the tears burning into his eyes again. She kissed his cheek and rubbed his arm. She didn't say anything as she left him alone in Diagon Alley. After a few beats of silence and an awkward shuffling about, Percy finally gave up and decided to apparate back to The Burrow. He didn't want to hurt himself or die, but he just wanted to be left alone. He wanted everything to go back to normal in his absence, of his family to go back into their idyllic ways until Percy finally felt comfortable enough to even consider talking about the things that he was thinking about.

He knew that was just pie in the sky and highly unlikely. He felt defeated even as he'd come back home. He could feel everyone's eyes on him even before he'd managed to open the backdoor. He walked into their kitchen; shoulders slumped. His watery blue eyes were fixed onto the floor. He threw his mum's mug into the sink, not bothering to clean it. He had no idea what was about to happen, or what he was going to do. Seeing as he was alone in the kitchen, he let himself crumble again. He felt so spineless, so cowardly, letting his face drop into his hands. He was so tired of crying, so tired of how emotional he felt that day; so tired because he didn't even know what he was feeling. Just that it felt like it was too much, and he was one question away from breaking into pieces.

Then he felt warm arms surrounding him and he just about dissolved into them. "Hey," it was Bill.

"There's no need to make a fuss," Percy argued weakly.

"I'm sorry, Perce," Bill, his voice, and he'd never quite heard him sound like that. It was making Percy's throat hurt, swell from how badly he hurt on the inside. "I'm sorry that I let you down," and when he said that, it was like a dam broke. Percy found himself sobbing like a child and holding onto Bill so tightly that it surprised him.

When Bill pulled him away, his face went white as a sheet. He trailed his fingers down the healed scar across Percy's hairline, something that almost blended in with his carroty hair, something that Percy forgot about.

"Merlin," Bill held in a deep breath. Percy knew how it looked like. It was a light-coloured scar, almost blended straight in with his hair and something that you wouldn't find unless you were neck to neck with someone and actively looking at their head. "I never noticed…noticed that. Is that from-from…the muggle healers? From when—"

Percy wasn't even talking to his siblings all that time. How could he have noticed? "Yes. From when."

They both knew that he was talking about what happened before, no need to spell out the S word in open conversation when it did nothing to help anyone.

"What did they do?"

Percy had managed to compose himself when he'd answered, "they cracked my skull open and put a drain in my head to vacuum all the blood out."

Bill looked disturbed. "You're joking."

"Yes, obviously," Percy remained level-headed and calm-toned. His voice was very detached from how he actually felt, though he was feeling his spirit lift a little bit. He did manage a small smile, and he did actually mean it too. He did feel a little spark of something warm ignite in him for just a moment, almost like calmness in the midst of his never-ending hurricane. Almost something that would make him ignore the after-effects of his crashing disaster.

"We really did miss you," Bill decided to say. "We might not know what to do, but…we care a lot, Perce. We've always cared about what happens to you, even if it got a little bit lost in translation."

"I know," Percy knew quite a lot of things, but it still didn't change how he felt.

"We've all had a talk since you've been gone—off to, I don't know. Mum thinks it's Diagon Alley, you know, the clock wasn't really specific," Bill had said, and Percy was holding his breath. "And you don't have to say anything. To anyone." The way that Bill had said it left a note of longing, but it looked like he really did believe that it was best that they didn't talk about it. Percy relaxed, hoping that everyone else really did feel that way. "But if you want to…"

"I don't," Percy cut off that train of thought before it even came out of Bill's throat.

"I know, but if you ever do…" Bill nodded his head. "You know."

"I do," Percy clasped his hands together behind his back.

There was such an awkwardness between them and Percy wondered if it would ever go away. If it was permanently going to stay there because of the things that he'd done, because of the things that had happened between him and his family. Sometimes, he really wished that he could take back the fight, just so he wouldn't have to spend the time, thinking about how he didn't feel like he belonged in the Burrow. He couldn't imagine that feeling going away. Even if his family loved him, if they really wanted to help him, even if they were with him, he couldn't imagine them not approaching him like he was something that was just willing to implode any moment.

And his theory was put to the test for the rest of the day. His mum had given him tight-lipped smiles, and there was an uncomfortable silence in the room when he was around. Percy couldn't wait to leave the Burrow and head to his flat. It felt like it had gotten so bad that he didn't even seem placated by Audrey's presence there.

Percy felt so detached. Fred was so vibrant. He had so many feelings. He felt so many things before he'd gone away again, and Percy was just so livid and uninteresting. He was dull, unliving, unlively. He wasn't a good character for a story, not a very good character to invest in or to love. He wasn't a good person sometimes. He could've had so much potential somehow, but it just seemed to be crushed under the weight of his own neuroses half the time.

By the time that they'd eaten dinner, Percy had finally escaped The Burrow and went back to his flat.

It was clean and everything was in its proper place. He seemed a little more comfortable there. He took another shower in his own bathroom, wore his own clothes that felt good to him and went to bed. He could've stayed in bed forever, just having long dreamless nights of sleep. He'd had nightmares often, but the nights where he slept peacefully were so wonderful. And that night happened to be a peaceful night, with very little happening in his dreams. When he woke up, he almost felt fine until he'd remembered who he was. He didn't want to go to work. He didn't want to see his family. He'd barely even wanted to talk to his wife.

Only a couple of days after he'd been back did Audrey give birth. It was a beautiful baby boy. The couple named him Harry, after none other than The Boy Who Lived. He had a shock of blonde hair and green eyes.

He didn't really understand surrogacy. Well, he didn't care enough to, he'd meant to say, because Audrey had tried to explain to him sometimes. She was sitting in the maternity ward, recovering, when the couple ooh-ed and ahh-ed over little Harry. Percy felt a little bit better for those few days, looking after Audrey and making sure that she was alright. Her body had bounced back like a rubber band, which always scared him more than anything else. They went back home a couple of days after, and Audrey had a new set of photos to add to her collection.

Sometimes, he found it strange when Audrey wasn't pregnant. She looked so small that it almost unnerved him sometimes. They had conversations before about having their own, and neither was keen on the idea. And people would be surprised to know that Audrey might need more convincing than Percy did on that front. She had no intention of keeping any crying baby and sitting at home to watch over it when Percy worked. And Percy had no interest in doing it either.

They'd mentioned getting a cat, but Audrey was even less likely to go through with that.

A few nights after she'd come home from the hospital, they'd settled into a comfortable enough routine. The more that Percy forgot about what he'd done, the better that he'd felt. He'd sent a letter to Kingsley, requesting to be transferred from the department so that he didn't have to face Fred's ex-girlfriend anymore. He'd replied to his mum's owls as quickly as they came but barely wrote anything. Every Sunday, he'd gone to the Burrow for a roast dinner, and nobody had broached him about the subject again. Charlie went back to Romania. Bill was busy in Shell Cottage most days. Everyone's lives were slowly going forward. Everyone was healing and just seeing that relaxed Percy enough some days, to give him this false illusion that everything really was going to be fine.

Going through all of that was almost worth it just to see George go back to being more like himself. He was still unnaturally thin and mostly stayed at home, but he'd started talking about his plans, about maybe opening the joke shop again. He still was very much in the throes of his grief, as was everyone else. His mum hadn't left the house since Fred had died, besides to visit his grave. His father went to work and came back home. Ron and Ginny still talked about him often, if not so that they didn't have to talk about The Hippogriff in The Room. Percy had never really relaxed enough to tell anyone anything. Everyone just assumed that if you'd talked about everything, that those feelings and thoughts and false assumptions you'd made would just melt away. And Percy was not strong enough to test that theory that his family would feel that way about him.

One Sunday evening, they'd all been gathered around the table. Audrey was in a nice pair of trousers and a button-down. Percy was in something that Fred would probably scoff at. He was wearing a dark orange button-down and a pair of maroon trousers. He had on a brown jacket, which he'd kept open. Fred had written him a letter and Percy had read it more than once. It should make him feel better, but it did nothing to him. He could remember everything that Fred had thought about him, and it barely changed anything. And that was a frightening thing, for something so momentous to happen to you and it not make a single bit of difference in how you feel about yourself.

There was a lot more chatter around the table, enough so that Percy actually felt extremely comfortable. It really felt like old times. It really felt like nothing had ever happened. Ron and George had gotten into a bit of trouble. Hermione had chided them. Harry had added to the conversation every now and then, even though he was the reason that Ron and George had gotten into that bit of trouble. His father mentioned something about a muggle trinket he'd found. Audrey had even joined in on the conversation, launching into a heated debate with Hermione about the workings of something-that-Percy-didn't-quite-care-about. But the background noise was soothing, and Percy even found himself staying at the table for longer than usual.

As George talked animatedly about something-else-Percy-wasn't-paying-attention-to, he'd accidentally flung mashed turnip from his plate (which was disgusting on its own) and it landed all over Percy's jumper.

"Oh, Perce," George looked genuinely apologetic. "I didn't mean to—"

Percy turned down to look at his clothes. "It's fine," he said a little stiffly, wiping away the mashed turnip from his jumper with an air of indifference.

George didn't look comfortable. "Are you—"

"Absolutely fine," Percy said with a cracked voice.

"Perce, are you okay? You look—"

"No, I'm not okay," Percy said a little thickly, and he was biting back his cheek so that he wouldn't laugh.

"Oh," George looked like he was about to have a coronary. "Yeah, Perce, we know, but it's just…you know, you never want to talk about anything." Audrey was giving Percy a look. She was telling him off telepathically. She knew that he was getting off on this, that he was giving George a hard time for no real reason. "But you can talk. If you want. You know. About anything." He could practically feel everyone holding their breath in.

Percy took a sip of his tea. His face was that of indifference. "Well, there has to be some changes."

"Changes," Ron echoed and looked at him suspiciously. "What kind of changes, you sodding git?"

"Don't talk to him like that," Ginny nudged him. This was diffusing a lot of tension in the air that Percy never thought that he'd get rid of, and he was almost riding high on the excitement that things felt normal. "Yeah, Perce…what…what kind of changes?"

Percy was rolling his head around, trying to think of the perfect request. He had not done this in some time that he'd really come short. "Well, for one, we need a different seating arrangement." He puffed his chest up in a dignified manner. "I've never liked sitting here. Always felt like…like I've never had a choice of where to sit."

"What?" Arthur looked at him like he was absolutely mental. "Where to sit?"

"Is there a problem with that?" Percy raised an eyebrow at him, crossing his chest. "And of course, I think that there needs to be something said about these roast dinners. I don't think I quite like everyone's attitude. You know, someone like me that's obviously suffering, and it's never really brought up in conversation." He really liked that touch. He could refine it, of course, but—

"But love, I thought you didn't want us to talk about these things," his poor mum looked like she was having a hard time with his mental gymnastics. "Did you really want to talk about these things? All along?"

"Of course," Percy acted like it was a no-brainer. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"But you've said…"

Audrey decided to stop this before it turned into a third wizarding war. "He's joking," she said very plainly. Percy shot her a look of disdain. "He's just taking the piss until someone has a heart attack." Percy was trying to bite down his cheek so that he genuinely wouldn't laugh, because that was, indeed, what he was doing. "I know it's wildly inappropriate and it's nowhere near as comical as he thinks that it is—"

George looked at Percy, all white-faced. "You absolute git," he said that last part with a hollow laugh. Then because he was so conveniently sat beside Percy, he'd tackled Percy to the ground, earning a shocking yelp from his mum.

When Percy had fallen to the floor, he'd squirmed when George had started tickling him. As if they were about five years old. The problem was Percy, as a person, was a very, very ticklish Percy and it was getting harder not to laugh.

"You absolute arsehole!" George yelled, though he, too, was trying to contain a laugh.

"It's not funny, I have a serious head injury!" Percy reminded him. George got on top of him, and Percy flipped them over, pinning him down with his hands. Breathing heavily, Percy's whole body was damp, and he couldn't stop smirking at George. Despite how thin George had gotten, he was much stockier built, with more muscle naturally than Percy could ever attain with broomstick racing and doing loops into the lake.

Bill had managed to separate them, though he looked like he really didn't want to. "That's enough, you two," a comment he'd probably never given to Percy in his life, as he'd led Percy back to his table.

"Happy?" Audrey mumbled, nudging him in his ribs.

"Very," Percy answered back. He wasn't exactly very happy, but he did feel his spirits lift and the tension in the air was dissipating fast. He felt like he really was right back at home.

"You're such a git," George complained, but he wasn't really complaining per se.

Percy cocked his head to one side. "I'm the victim here, I'll have you know," he reminded him.

George scoffed. "What a load of bollocks."

Percy met his parents' eyes, who looked like, they too, had relaxed into their roast dinners. His mum had started piling potatoes onto his plate despite him saying no. Ron and Ginny were discussing something under their breaths that wasn't about him trying to kill himself for one. Things had settled somehow, and Percy could feel a deep-sighing relief.

When he'd gotten back to his flat, Audrey had chided him for being a child and Percy ignored her as he read comic bokos under his sheets. Then at around two in the morning when she was asleep, Percy got up from his bed. He took his wand with him and walked away from his wife's slumbering frame. He didn't bother changing out of his pyjamas. He'd apparated to Fred's gravestone, and he wasn't the only one there. In fact, he was surprised to find Ginny, Ron and George sat up, looking at it with stony eyes. Percy walked towards them. He wasn't even wearing proper shoes. He was in a pair of old slippers that looked like they were about to fall apart. They were now muddy and disgusting.

Percy stood there with them, staring at the stone. He could remember the funeral like it was yesterday—the better parts of it too, even, for the first time in a long time.

"Since you did what you did, it feels like he never left," George finally decided to say. "We were just saying."

"It's weird," Ron admitted. "Feels like he's not dead."

"Yeah," Ginny nodded her head to agree with them. "Even though he's not exactly talked to everyone one of us by ourselves. But it feels…different. Like he's still around, telling us to forget about him. And I don't think about him nearly as much, but that's not normal." That didn't mean that just because they felt like he was around that their feelings were any less muddled and confused. They looked like they didn't know what to do with that, as much as anything.

"He's my twin," George agreed. "I thought that I'd…"

Percy nodded his head. There wasn't a loss feeling when it came to Fred like it was. Sometimes, there was. And it felt strange because Percy didn't know how to react to that. He could hear his voice when he was picking up his clothes, when he'd decided to apparate to his gravestone in the middle of the night. Why bother? It's not like I'm gonna move, he could imagine Fred saying. Because Fred hated funerals, thought it was really a waste of his time.

"I don't really think about him," Percy had come here to think about him. Ever since he'd come back, he was self-centred and difficult to talk to. He'd never really thought much about Fred. In fact, he was avoiding Fred.

"That's 'cause you're a selfish git," Ron told him, but it didn't sound angry.

Percy nodded his head. "I suppose." He'd crossed his arms over his chest.

"We don't know how to help you, mate," George finally admitted, looking up from the stone. "You know what I keep thinking about? Fred was talking about—about how I should be taking care of you. That we should be taking care of each other." Percy let in a sharp inhale because he remembered that very vividly, and he wished that he didn't. He wished that he didn't know what Fred wanted, because you couldn't always get what you wished for. "And I've been doing a shit job at that, you know. It's like Fred's come back, told us off for not knowing all this rubbish about you and disappeared and nothing's really changed. It's like everything's fine as it is when it's rubbish. Everything is."

"You have to try, you know," Ginny prompted. "You can't just be miserable on your own and worry everyone else."

Percy could recall that they didn't know the full story, but he didn't think that it mattered as much. "You don't seem to understand."

"Why not?" Ron shot back.

Percy felt very fragile stood there. He placed his hands into his pyjama pockets. He still had no idea how he'd ended up here. He'd thought that he'd be alone. It was so late, and everyone was so tired that they were saying whatever was on their mind. "You think that I've not been trying," he'd found that rather sad.

"This is you trying, Perce?" Ron prodded with a raised eyebrow.

Percy closed his eyes, feeling tears well up into them. Because he had been trying. All along, he'd been trying as hard as he could. "I'm not dead yet, am I?" he acerbically replied back, feeling his throat swell.

Ginny and George winced. Ron almost flinched away from him.

"Sorry," Percy didn't know if he did feel sorry.

Percy stared back at Fred's grave. He didn't know what to feel. And he felt bad for not feeling like he was in absolute pain just looking at his brother's grave. As if his death was meaningless. He shuddered.

"Come on, Perce," George grabbed his hand. "We'll help you get back to your place." He obviously didn't trust Percy to apparate, and Percy felt like he couldn't trust himself to apparate either.

George did help him get back home, but he stayed the whole night. Percy didn't sleep and neither had George.

At around eight in the morning that same day, George had gone out to get them a cup of coffee and a couple of pastries after discovering how bare and pathetic their fridge was. They ate pains au chocolat whilst talking about nothing in particular, and then George asked him if he'd head out with him. Almost directionless, they left the flat together. "Things are going to change now, Perce," George finally decided to say.

Percy looked back at George with a raised eyebrow. "They are?"

"I got an appointment for you, Perce," George finally said, as they were walking down the street, just down the road to his flat. His eyes were red and blotchy. "Paid for it out of pocket too. So, they could see you immediately."

His younger brother gripped tightly onto his hand.

"Seeing you yesterday, I was thinking about all this rubbish we've been through together. All the things that happened between us and… I'm going to be with you," George finally said. "I promised Fred. I promised myself. I'm going to take you and I'm going to be with you and I'm going to make sure that you get the help that you need."

Percy nodded his head soundlessly.

"You got to tell them how you feel," George's voice was begging and urgent. "Please."

"I suppose."

"Yeah, well I suppose you need some real help," George said.

Percy tried not to smile too much. "I suppose."

He just followed George to the healer's office. It was close to his flat. It was a small place, with glossy painted walls and the couches were leathery. The office was small, and a woman greeted him with bright eyes and pink lippy. She had a quill in her hand and was writing out the notes diligently by hand, making gestures to have them start talking.

"My twin brother died," George finally said. "And then my older brother," he gestured to Percy, "traded his life for him. But…he sort of doesn't care if he never came back. But he's back now and…he's just not been happy. Ever."

"That is untrue," Percy decided to say. "I am not always unhappy."

"Just the majority of the time."

"Alright, I'll give him that," Percy just shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

He barely said anything, as George rattled on about how he felt, about the things that Fred had said about him, about the choices that he'd made, about his previous suicide attempt. The healer kept glancing back at Percy, as if waiting for him to talk. Afterwards, she suggested that George would be out a little bit. She asked him questions, about how he felt like, about if he still wanted to die, about if he had any plans to kill himself. All that Percy knew was that he was not actively seeking out to drink potions that would make him stop breathing. She asked him about what he'd done before, and he explained, in great detail, detached from the events. The broomstick racing, the suicide attempt that he'd had before, how he'd cracked his skull, the funeral, and he'd insisted that he was getting better. Really, he was.

When George had been called in again, the healer had given him an empathetic look and said, "I'm going to give you this." She gestured towards a glossy white sheet. "I think your brother needs to be committed. He goes to A&E now."

George winced at the urgency of her tone. He looked back at Percy, who just shrugged as if he'd been told that he had an important report to finish before tonight.

As they left, George felt like he was shaken. "Perce, what did you say?"

"I'm not sure," Percy just shrugged. He didn't exactly tell her that he'd be drinking poison at home. She just took one look at him and with a few sentences he'd managed to string together deemed him to be 'needing to be sorted out immediately'. "Do you think she'll have an aneurysm if I get a hot chocolate from that vendor before we go to A&E?"