This story was written for the Weasleys, Witches, & Writers Facebook group's Fooled Ya! A Weasley Hijinks Comp. My chosen main character is Percy Weasley. I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe.
Percy Weasley liked to get up before the sun. There was something comforting about waking up in darkness. He liked the routine of rising before the weather of the day had any chance to influence the familiar shapes and shadows of his surroundings with unpredictable variables. Everything looked the same in the dark, it mattered little whether the day would develop into a grey maelstrom of rain or a kaleidoscope of brilliant sunshine. He couldn't control the elements, but he found peace in choosing to be out of bed and alert before things got unpredictable.
This particular morning was no different. As he dressed quickly, slipping into the clothing he had laid out the night before without bothering to turn on the lights, he contemplated his plans for the day.
He didn't need to look at the calendar hanging in his office space to know that today was the first of April, but he found himself walking over to his desk and staring at it all the same. The two words starring back at him in his own, neat handwriting seemed to mock him. He sighed and shook his head before leaving the room, heading towards his kitchen to brew a pot of tea.
Percy had never liked April Fools Day.
Most of his family and their friends were quick to assume he thought himself above all their silliness, but if any of them had bothered to pay attention, they would have noticed long ago how much he suffered through it every year.
For one thing, he never liked surprises or pranks; it made him nervous when he didn't know what to expect. There were too many factors outside of his control for him to find any humour in those moments, only anxiety and a rapidly spiralling sense of being overwhelmed. It certainly didn't help that he was usually the victim of the twins' tricks and nobody seemed to notice or care that he found no fun in their laughter at his expense.
He had come to see it as his birthday gift to Fred and George, that he bore the brunt of it all with little complaint, if still unwillingly.
Still, he had already determined that he would have welcomed their usual mischief and even smiled at it last year, given the choice. The harsh reality of Fred being gone forever had hit him like a bludger instead.
Percy heated the porridge he had prepared the night before with a charm and added a splash of milk to his tea before sitting at the small table positioned directly in front of the window to watch the morning's first light creep over the horizon through the rain. The day looked cold and somewhat bleak; it felt strangely appropriate given the occasion.
They had all gathered at The Burrow last year, for the sake of their mother and to rally around George, who had looked around at them like he wanted to be anywhere else.
It had been the last time Percy had tried to apologize.
Percy walked over to the corner where George was standing alone for a rare moment and stopped near him, clearing his throat.
"I know I've said this many times before, but I wanted to tell you again how sorr…"
"Don't! That's enough! Why do you keep doing this?" George said, his hands clenching into fists at his sides and fire brimming in his eyes.
Percy had to admit his apologies had become a bit of a habit, he made one nearly every time he had seen his brother since the Battle of Hogwarts. But that feeling deep in his gut refused to go away, and so he kept trying.
He swallowed the shame rising in his throat. "I feel responsible for his loss," he said quietly.
George's brown eyes met his with an emotion he struggled to recognize.
"Death Eaters are responsible for his loss. The only thing you did was gift me with his laughter, one last time." George breathed deeply, struggling to hold back the tears gathering in his eyes. "I'm grateful."
As his brother's arms wrapped around him in a rare show of affection, Percy grappled with the realisation that he had failed to catch the subtleties of yet another situation. He'd thought apologizing was the right thing to do. But as he brought his own arms around George to hug back, he felt a weight lift in his chest and a burning desire to get to know him better.
It had been the start of a hesitant new friendship.
It was strange to make friends with a sibling as adults, particularly since they hadn't been close as children, though being accustomed to awkward interactions certainly helped. For anyone else, it might have been too heavy to carry George's grief, but Percy was good at listening and observing these days. His incessant desire to prove himself had all but evaporated, replaced with a yearning to connect to those around him that he had buried for many years in a misguided attempt to avoid feeling like a failure.
There was only so long any person could pretend they were happy being alone when they weren't. It had taken the losses that came with war for Percy to admit it. Still, it was a fight to silence his need for control. Being vulnerable wasn't easy for him, even with his own family, but he had come to find that it was sometimes necessary. And George had made it easier for him, somehow, than the others did. Perhaps it had something to do with sharing his own vulnerabilities in a way that left them on equal footing.
George probably understood him better than any other person.
That thought should have calmed his nerves, but it didn't. He was acutely aware of the fact that the person who had most understood George was someone he could never replace.
He gathered the remnants of his breakfast and brought them to the sink, where he washed and dried his dishes with the usual spells before putting them away, as he always did. Glancing at the clock over the cooktop, he saw it was already past 7 and realised he must have lingered over his breakfast longer than usual. He tamped down the resulting unease with a stern reminder that it was Saturday. Straying from the schedule would not negatively affect anything today, other than the level of his own discomfort.
His steps carried him back to his room and to the plant sitting on his desk, a Calathea in a sturdy grey pot. He glanced at the calendar again.
Visit George
He couldn't help but think back to his brother's departure from The Burrow last year, rising from his chair when a cake was placed in front of him and all but fleeing with the words "I'm just not ready, yet" on his lips.
Percy knew things were different this year. George had started therapy and slowly reopened the shop. But he also knew today would be difficult for him and he still wasn't sure he would be welcome. He sighed, picked up the plant and apparated before he could second guess himself.
On the landing outside George's flat, he realised he had completely forgotten it was raining. Whatever his brother had been expecting when he answered the door, it clearly hadn't been to find him soaking wet with his mouth wide open in shock, holding a potted plant.
"Uh, everything alright, Percy?" George asked, surprise written across his face and an involuntary smile twitching at his lips.
"It's your birthday...I thought you might like some company," he said hesitantly, holding the Calathea out in front of him as either a shield or a peace offering. "It symbolises-"
"New Beginnings," George said, interrupting softly and carefully taking the pot from his hands. "Thank you."
Percy found himself looking down at his shoes, uncertain of what to do or say next. His eyes snapped up at the sudden burst of George's laughter.
"You look like a drowned rat! Come in, I'll make tea."
Percy couldn't help but smile back.
"Tea would be lovely," he said, finally stepping in out of the rain. He found he didn't mind the laughter this time. In fact, he was rather grateful for it.