i have some ideas i work on the side when i'm working on other fanfics and get stuck. this is one of them. i've done a few chapters in already and it's a little...different let's say. you probably know more about the plot from the summary than the main narrator i.e. Arthur does and probably will for some time. just a warning in case you wonder why it's a little bit dragging as i'll take a long time to develop / reveal the full, full plot. this is not a Percy POV story like my usual ones because it'll actually be easier to write out of someone else's POV.

this is a heavy one, with themes of physical/sexual assault/noncon, abuse, psychological manipulation, there is infidelity and obviously, this is a situation where's an obvious power dynamic and whilst Percy is technically 'of age', there is a serious, startling age gap between Fudge and Percy (around/more than 40 years that is) and the relationship is nowhere near equal so advising a word of caution here.

there is technically 'slash' in this story because of that and other things that would come to light afterwards. there is a flipping from present to future (trial plot like i've done in 'Little Glass Houses'). and like i've done for LGH, i'll try to upload both trial and true chapters at once since they go together.

anyway, without further ado...

What Were You Doing Out There in the Dark?

Prologue

The night was stuffy and uninviting. When you sucked in a breath, you felt a little faint taking in the stale cold air and dusty wintry leaves. It was not the best weather for a walk or the best smell to savour, nor was it even the best place for a view, but here Arthur Weasley was, taking a cursory walk in the Ministry courtyard after a gruelling day at the office.

What's so bad about playing around with a bunch of enchanted muggle toys? He could imagine Ron saying.

Arthur smiled at the thought. Nothing bad at all. But even if you were out for a Quidditch match of your own accord, in your own spare time, you'd be knackered too if your plays got extended beyond your capabilities.

He felt as if his whole body had become stiff and unmoving after spending twelve hours sharing a desk with Perkins. He loved Perkins like a brother, but after spending most of the week with him, he would be the first to strangle him with his tie if he did so much as suggest a quick walk to Ministry Munchies for a sticky cheese panini.

Forty-six-year-old Arthur Weasley placed his hands into the pockets of his new-but-still-second-hand brown corduroy jacket. He'd just bought it yesterday, plonked it straight out of the shelves as if he were clever for finding it. Molly, of course, didn't seem to think so. I'll burn that thing if you try to wear that again! She'd threatened as she wagged an accusatory finger at him before he'd left for work. He pulled down his black turtleneck, still trying to digest that second temperamental tuna pasty that he shouldn't have eaten an hour ago, especially with Molly waiting for him at home with a massive supper to send him off in no doubt. As his stomach rebelled, he took in the sights of an insipid trail of methodically planted bushes and ancient water fountains before him. There was something rather rank about walking outside of the Ministry courtyard at the dead end of the night. There wasn't as much movement there as it was in the bristling lunch hours. In the daylight, people sauntered in and out with briefcases, paced around in circles reiterating presentations and statistics, and ate lunch in one of the non-threatening-looking fire-red benches. But at night, it seemed to turn into the Shrieking Shack.

The sounds of the wind bristling the trees, a distinct sound of cries, and an irritated vendor just behind the courtyard shrieking about a spell-broken ice-cream machines echoed through the courtyard.

He supposed that he should apparate back home, but he could make do without the looming silence that came when September came around. His houseful of children seemed to vanish with promises of trains, broomsticks and fat books that had been handed down from brother to brother to brother to brothers to brother to sister. Even now it was looming closer to the holidays, just going into December—he couldn't help but feel lonely.

With a new destination in mind, Arthur stopped his stride to produce his wand from his pocket. A nightcap at the pub, he thought for a few moments. He imagined having something warm, soothing. Yes, that'll do. Then I'll be able to—

But as he did, he could hear soft mewls from a distance. He turned around, alert, and noticed a slumped figure at the far end of the courtyard, almost completely obscured by the hefty silver-leaf bushes. They were sat by the porcelain-tiled stairs leading up to the Minister's office. "Lumos," Arthur said in a near whisper, watching the tip of his wand light up. It was hardly the kind of light that would help you navigate through gargantuan forests, abandoned houses or haunted Ministry courtyards. "Whose there?" he called out, but then calmed down when he saw a familiar shock of red hair. He realised what the mewls were—muffled sobs-and felt uneasy. "Percy?"

But here his son was, absolutely slumped onto the stairs, looking about ten years younger with his head into his hands.

When Percy looked at him, Arthur felt his stomach drop. Percy had a massive gash on his left cheek, which was purple and bruised. His left eye was swollen and black. Even more disturbingly were the quiet almost tortured sounds coming from his throat and the tears that were streaming down his puffy cheeks. His purple satin robes looked torn. His clothes were crumped. His whole body was shaking, from the cold Arthur wagered, and probably the sheer hysteria.

"Percy?" Arthur was shocked.

"Dad," Percy replied back hoarsely, sounding much unlike himself.

"Percy—"

"Please help me, dad. Please help me."

He'd never asked for help tying his bloody shoelaces before when he was just a five-year-old, but here he was, absolutely cowering in fear and begging him as if the fight had never happened. It had to have been five months since Percy had left the family, head high, chest puffed up with this dignified expression on his face. Well, that expression was nowhere to be seen right then.

"Oh, Godric, Percy."

When Arthur reached forward to touch him, Percy turned his body away from him.

"Merlin, what happened?" he asked. "What happened to you?"

That was when Arthur's light caught Percy's neck, and he thought that he might have a coronary when he noticed very angry-looking finger-shaped bruises on his neck. Arthur had absolutely lost it, letting out a strangled breath.