So apparently when I said I was going to try to post more frequently what I actually meant was the gap was going to get longer...sorry! This chapter wasn't the easiest to write but it's finally reached a point where I feel whatever I do with it now it's not going to get much better now so hopefully you'll enjoy it as it is.
Review Responses:
Jadely31 - I hope you still think this is worth the wait! I've known where Percy and Oliver were going for a little while but they did manage to cause me a bit of headache over the last few chapters (including this one) - mostly Percy actually, I blame him entirely. Thank you for the lovely review!
1CharmedPhoenix - I've always thought Harry needed that little talking to that Neville gave him. Thanks for the lovely reviews again!
Who wrote this crap - Well I didn't manage 'soon' but I hope you enjoy the update now it's finally here! Thanks for reviewing!
Huge thanks to everyone who's been reading, reviewing or favouriting my stories lately!
A Subtle Change
Chapter 24
January 4th was circled in red on the calendar on Ron's wall. At 11 o'clock on the 4th the Hogwarts Express was heading back to school and he'd told himself that if there was still no sign of Harry then he was not going to be on it. With less than twelve hours to go, and his best friend still in the Dark Lord's clutches, Ron walked firmly into his father's shed to announce his intentions. He had rather counted on his father being alone but instead found Percy there grilling his father on some seemingly irrelevant Ministry by-law.
Ron rolled his eyes and cut straight across his brother's fussing. "I'm not going back tomorrow."
"What?" Percy did not look impressed at being interrupted.
Arthur simply looked resigned, as though he had been waiting for this.
"I'm not going back to school tomorrow." Ron repeated.
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron."
"Percy," his father warned. "Ron, I know this is about Harry but you refusing to go back to school won't change anything."
"We shouldn't be going back without him!"
"What good are you going to do here, precisely?" Percy looked practically scornful. "Please, just go back to school and give mum one less thing to worry about!"
Arthur sighed heavily, "Percy, enough. Why don't you go and see if your mother needs any help with anything?" Percy stalked out looking self-righteously angry in a way Arthur had hoped not to see again. Well, one problem child at a time. "Ron, you are going back to school. I promise you we will keep you aware of what's going on and we will do everything we can to get Harry back safe."
"What if you can't?" Ron asked quietly.
'We will', died on Arthur's lips. The boy was too old to be lied to. "We might not, but I believe we can."
"Dad," Ron didn't seem to know what else to say and Arthur pulled him into a tight hug, noting just how much taller than him Ron had become. Ron squeezed his father tight for a moment before letting go and taking a deep breath. "I know you'll all do everything you can."
After sending his youngest son to bed and assuring him he could pack in the morning, Arthur turned his attention to Percy. The young man had definitely been growing tetchier in the past few days and he had after all blamed Percy's departure from the family in part on the fact he hadn't taken enough time over him.
Percy didn't often appreciate being checked up on though so Arthur approached his room with some caution and bearing a cup of hot chocolate, which was better received than he had expected it would be. It was only once his son had smiled, however briefly, at him and appeared genuinely grateful, that Arthur risked the question, "Percy, is everything alright?"
His son's expression closed off instantly, "Of course, Father. Why do you ask?"
Arthur tried to tread carefully. "You've seemed somewhat out of sorts in the last couple of days. Ever since the New Year in fact."
"There's nothing," Percy insisted, "Really, I just have a lot to do and better things to worry about than Ron threatening to follow the twins in abandoning his education."
"I think Fred and George have done rather well for themselves, the shop's certainly a success. Not everyone's happy taking the same path, Percy."
"You know as well as I do, Dad, if that business had flopped who would ever have taken them seriously without even any NEWTS! Their need to be 'unconventional' is unlikely to bring them respect from the sort of people who matter."
"I really wish I hadn't heard you say that." Arthur sighed heavily, "Do you respect your boss?"
Percy frowned, "Of course I do."
"And would you describe her as conventional? Or Dumbledore?"
"There's conventional and conventional," Percy argued, "And they've both had issues with the way people have wound up perceiving them. Professor Thornfield can torment half the Ministry, shake up every room she enters, and turn statutes on their head because she thinks it should be done, but one foot wrong and do you think that her dreams of being Minister would actually happen?"
"I think she has built a reputation for competence and compassion, and even occasionally wisdom, that would take some breaking down. I also think that if being Minster were her only goal, or even her most important one, to the point that it would turn her into someone like Fudge, never daring to hold a controversial position on anything, that we might all be better off if it didn't happen. Percy, we're not talking about Thornfield, or Ron, or the twins, what's going on?"
If Arthur had thought his gentle tones could soothe his son's ruffled temper and persuade him into talking about his problems he had been wrong.
"Nothing!" Percy all but snapped, "Dad, I'm sorry but I have work to do."
Arthur knew he wasn't going to get anything further. "Alright, Percy. I'll say Goodnight. I hope you know though that if you ever want to talk about anything I will be more than happy to listen." He left reluctantly at his son's hurried nod and dismissive, "Goodnight."
Ignoring a half made promise to his mother to accompany them to the station, Percy had already long left for work by the time anyone else got up the next morning.
XXXXXXX
Narcissa Malfoy scanned the crowd of parents behind her on the station platform for anything troubling by pretending to check her make-up in an antique compact mirror. Satisfied that there were enough people around willing, or required, to defend her, she ignored the glares from the Weasley family and turned her full attention back to her son who was busy locking eyes with Pansy Parkinson.
The petite blonde laughed affectionately, causing Draco to flush and look back at his mother. A small sad part of her wondered how much longer it would be before Pansy, or some other young girl, ousted her from the role of the most important woman in his life. "I can see you're desperate to go and see your girlfriend so I'll say goodbye now."
They embraced and she kissed his cheek without even a protest from him. He gave her a fond smile as he said goodbye and then he was gone, slipping away from her with his trunk hovering behind him. Narcissa stared after her son with a wistful smile as he walked purposefully over to where his girlfriend was waiting for him.
Ron watched from the train as Draco greeted Pansy Parkinson with an unusually genuine smile. The girl gave the blond boy a suspicious look and Ron heard her say, "You look happy. How was your Christmas?"
"It was wonderful Pansy!" he lifted her off the ground as he swept her into an enthusiastic hug.
"Oh! Put me down!" she laughed.
"Sorry," he quickly composed himself. "It's just I haven't seen my parents like that for so long! Mum's been so depressed without Dad, and he's normally not that demonstrative anyway, but this Christmas was so different! The two of them were acting like teenagers; their good humour was contagious! Things are only going to get better from now on!"
She grinned as he grasped her hand and squeezed it affectionately.
"All I needed to make that Christmas any better was to have had you there!" he teased.
She shook her head, "Flatterer!"
"Not flattery if it's true!" he tugged on her hand, "Come on, let's go and find a carriage!"
Inside the train, Ron, Hermione and Neville were listening in shock.
"He's not even worried about someone hearing." Hermione's voice came out as barely a whisper.
Ron's hands were balled into fists, "The little shit!"
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed at Ron's use of language and grabbed him by the arms as he stood abruptly and stormed towards the door. "What are you going to do exactly? Beat him up? Will that really make you feel better?"
"Oh it might!" Ron snarled at the door and Neville quickly stepped in front of it before he could break away from Hermione's grasp. "He must know something! I bet no one's even questioned the little" his next word was thankfully drowned out by Hermione's protests at its use, "and his blasted mother!"
"They have!" Hermione insisted, "Your father mentioned it at the start of the holidays, they questioned Narcissa but obviously she wasn't going to tell them anything and they couldn't find a hole in her story."
"He's been at Malfoy Manor, you heard Draco! How the hell did he manage that without anyone noticing!" Ron was still struggling in her grip.
"It's against wizarding law to keep a private dwelling under magical surveillance without the owners full knowledge and consent so frankly even with someone watching the house there are plenty of ways for the Malfoys to have got around it!" Hermione's tone was losing it's calm edge.
Ron snorted, "Bet no one held Malfoy upside down by his ankles until he told them the truth!"
"No Ron," Hermione was becoming agitated herself now, "I imagine they didn't!"
"You really think he knows where Harry is?" Neville asked quietly, "You really think he knows anything?" The boy shook his head, "If You-Know-Who were recruiting schoolchildren I doubt he'd have got this far."
"He's right you know," a soft, airy voice agreed from the doorway. Luna made her way in and slipped gracefully around Neville to stand directly in front of Ron. "You should sit down, the train will be moving off soon." She pushed him back towards the seats. "You told me they were going to find him, and I believe you, so you should too."
Luna's softer approach seemed to diffuse Ron a little, seemingly to Hermione's chagrin, and he sat down, still looking ready to punch someone but quieter at least for the moment.
Luna sat down beside Neville, "Where's Trevor?"
Neville smiled, "Toads hibernate, he's in a tank in the dorm at Hogwarts."
The girl twirled her hair round her fingers thoughtfully. "I think I'd like to hibernate."
Hermione sighed and pulled a book out of her bag. Between Ron's anger and Luna's general looniness, it looked like being a long journey.
XXXXXXX
Percy's early start, and it was early-even by Percy's standards, meant that by midday the piles of filing and correspondence Druscilla had abandoned on his desk were nothing but an efficient memory. He had even finally found time to give their newly acquired intern a proper tour of the Ministry and had settled the young girl to some simple tasks she could get on with unsupervised. He learnt her name was Ellie, the daughter of a rich, self-made, man Druscilla seemed to have some history with. She looked to be straight out of school with no real idea about the world and Percy had deep reservations about her presence in the current situation. Druscilla of course had simply passed her off to Percy in the middle of a pile of other tasks and mostly seemed to be making use of her as a tea girl. He supposed at least she couldn't come across anything too terrible making coffee.
Turning his attention to the weekly diary he noticed a meeting scribbled in Druscilla's elegant scrawl (he was still trying to understand how her script could be both scrawling and elegant while also almost entirely unreadable). It read, '12:30 - Ken'.
There was only one 'Ken' Percy could think that could be, Ken Sorrel, Druscilla's fellow Departmental Director. It was a title neither one of them had bothered with in years, having both held their positions long enough that their names seemed to have become titles in themselves. The two were technically of equal standing within the Ministry but Ken had run out of ambition years before. He was quite happy to sit out the rest of his career letting things carry on around him. As Druscilla had once said about him, 'forget not rocking the boat, Ken doesn't even get on board!' He had been happy for Dru to oversee the more influential departments such as International Magical Cooperation and the Auror Office, preferring to handle the reports of the likes of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and Muggle Relations. Between the two of them however almost everyone in the Ministry answered to them eventually. The exceptions were for the Minster's personal staff and the Unmentionables who answered only to the Minster (and from the way Fudge had shied away from them Percy wasn't completely convinced the latter group were currently answering to anyone). Fudge had also been rather expanding the meaning of 'personal staff' in recent times, and seemed to have been trying to include Kingsley in it in order to keep Druscilla out of the Aurors, but still the majority of Ministry personnel were managed by these two people who could hardly have been more different in outlook or approach.
Personally they got along well enough, their different attitudes tended to cause a little mutual annoyance but, as far as Percy could tell, they didn't fight because Ken didn't fight, it expended valuable energy and Ken didn't like anything that did that. Their professional contact was limited to the point where if they were meeting it wasn't hard to work out why. It would almost always be personnel issues and those meetings always required prep work that Druscilla usually handed to Percy. Percy however had prepared nothing for today, indeed had been asked to prepare nothing. Given Druscilla's current attitude towards him though he had a feeling that it being her oversight would not prevent him getting the blame. Consequently he made his way quickly to her office with a feeling of some trepidation.
He found his boss lounging in a comfy chair by the window eating a sandwich and not looking at all like she was about to go to a meeting.
"Excuse me Professor, but you are aware you have a meeting with Ken Sorrel in ten minutes?"
"Oh, that's been cancelled," she waved a hand dismissively.
"Cancelled?" Well clearly not because she was snowed under with work, he thought archly.
"Yes, he's had to go to St Mungo's, his daughter's had an accident. She works for an apothecary and they decided a job lot of cheap, mass-produced, cauldrons, from heaven knows where, were a good idea. Of course they were bound to be sub-standard and far too thin in places. One inevitably leaked and she got quite a nasty potion burn. That's what you get for not buying from a manufacturer signed up to the Charter of International Standardisation of Cauldron Thickness. Leakages have been increasing at a rate of three per cent a year, you know."
Druscilla was clearly mocking him, peering over her glasses in feigned seriousness, taking statistics and remarks directly from his own somewhat infamous (at least amongst his family) report, but it wasn't the mockery that struck him.
"You read my report?" he asked quietly.
Her expression suddenly attained a level of neutrality Switzerland would have been proud of. "Of course. You sent it to me, was that not the idea?"
"Well, yes, but I sent it to quite a few people, I don't think many of them actually read it. My father never even read it actually." He added quietly.
"I did."
"Why?"
"You sent it to me."
He'd seen her delight in being obtuse before but it had rarely been aimed at him, now he understood why people usually looked so infuriated with her. "You can't possibly read every piece of paper that crosses your desk, I know you don't!"
"Never underestimate just how much of it I do read, Percy. I must admit it was your general arrogance in sending it round that caught my attention," Percy coloured but she carried on, "but it was the content that kept me reading it. It was a well written report making a good point and just because a job isn't interesting doesn't mean it isn't important. I told you when I offered you this job that I'd been watching you for some time, I had a feeling you were going to be someone of interest."
"You did?" The insecure question slipped out, in almost a whisper, before he stop it.
His insecurity had little impact however on her attitude. "Yes. I mean honestly I found you arrogant, self-important and desperately seeking approval from anyone in a position of authority. Which is just a little bit pathetic and suggests that perhaps you don't really much approve of yourself."
"Makes me wonder why you took the trouble of hiring me." He had grown up the butt of too many family 'jokes' for his blood not to rise at her remarks.
Druscilla however remained entirely calm as she answered him. "You're good at what you do and I was impressed by the way you stood up to Fudge. That took a good deal of courage in your position." Her expression softened, "Percy..." she was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in!"
Kingsley Shacklebolt joined them and Druscilla gave Percy a significant look, "We can discuss this issue later, Weasley." She turned her attention to Kingsley without even glancing back at her young employee.
Kingsley waited until Percy had left, and shut the door behind him, to begin speaking. He held up an internal memo. "I believe you wanted to talk."
Druscilla nodded, "I had a meeting cancelled and thought we could make use of the time. Have a seat," she gestured at the chair across from her, surprising Kingsley a little by staying by the window rather than relocating to her desk. "I'm worried," she hesitated and he gestured for her to continue. "Do you think Cornelius has been acting oddly lately?"
"You mean besides the fact I haven't seen you two fighting once in the last few days?" he smiled grimly.
"No I mean precisely that!"
Kingsley looked at her questioningly.
"He's being nice!" She looked appalled at the notion. "He's calmer, and more controlled, and he has this look on his face like he knows something I don't!"
"Well he has seemed calmer. I hardly saw that as something to worry about though." Kingsley looked as though he wouldn't be averse to her seeming calmer.
"You know they say people who attempt suicide often seem calmer just before doing it."
Kingsley gave her a deeply sceptical look, "Are you saying you think the Minister is suicidal?"
"No." Druscilla clearly realised the man was not following her, admittedly slightly odd, chain of reasoning. "What I'm saying is the reason they seem calmer is because they've made the decision and know they won't have to deal with things much longer. I think he's made some sort of decision, I think for once he actually does know something I don't. I just don't know what that is."
Kingsley was beginning to look darkly amused, "Well clearly not or he wouldn't know something you don't."
"You're laughing at me."
"A little, yes. I am not interested in becoming involved in your political games, Druscilla, I believe we have had this conversation before. The Minister has good reason to be seeming calmer, we have found Harry."
It was Druscilla's turn to appear sceptical. "You and I both know that's hardly a reason to stop worrying. Finding him was one thing, getting him back may be quite another!"
Kingsley watched as she began to shred her uneaten sandwich. "And I believe we have just finally got to what is really worrying you so much."
She sighed and dropped the rather messy remains of her lunch onto the table. "We've got the location, but it's going to take so much more than that. The Order, for all their dedication and talent, are in reality a small group whose speciality does not lie in open combat - which seems precisely what we're going to end up dragging the Death Eaters into."
"The Order won't be standing alone though."
"I know. The reason it's you I'm looking to for reassurance is you're the only one who can give it to me. Is the Auror Office up to this? Do you honestly think that, if we can find a way to get them and the Order in, that they can successfully take on the Death Eaters and Voldemort?"
Kingsley was silent.
"You don't, do you?" Her voice was as close to trembling as he had ever heard it.
"I've had a hand in training most of the Aurors and trained alongside the ones I haven't. They're a formidable team, Druscilla, more so than I think anyone (including Voldemort) has yet realised."
"But will that be enough?" she persisted.
"We won't know until we try. I can't offer you guarantees."
"I realise that." They sat in silence for a moment. "I don't want to send people in to a slaughter."
She received another grim, yet somehow reassuring, smile, "I wouldn't rank our chances that low. If you want some reassurance why not come and see the Auror training sessions this week?"
She looked as though the idea had never occurred to her. Doubtless it had not, Kingsley thought.
"Why not? I suppose I should have done that a while back. I admit I probably give your department less time than others but you've always been such a competent head. I knew you didn't need me standing over you. Under present circumstances though, I will have Percy clear my diary, send him the details of the training session and I'll be there."
"Very well," Kingsley rose and nodded to her, "If you have nothing else to discuss I must be getting back."
"Of course, I have another meeting myself this afternoon. No rest for the wicked." she winked, all trace of that earlier uncertainty gone.
"If not then I fear you must be in a state of constant exhaustion."
She waggled her eyebrows, "It's worth it."
The head Auror laughed, "I'll send Percy the information, and Dru?"
"Yes?"
He gave a slightly sadistic smile. "Bring your wand, there are no spectators in my training sessions."
Laughing, she gave a mock salute. "Then you'd better go get practising."
XXXXXXX
Being so summarily dismissed by the two senior Ministry members had smarted more than Percy would have expected. He had become so accustomed to Druscilla speaking freely in front of him that her disinclination to do so now seemed yet further proof that his boss had seen him in a new light over New Year and it was not one she cared for.
For a moment, before Kingsley had interrupted them, it had seemed as though she were beginning to soften and, for an even briefer moment, he had considered spilling his problems to her. If anyone knew how to weather controversy it would be her.
Percy didn't ask for help, didn't like admitting he needed it. He was stridently independent to the point of being headstrong but even he could admit to himself that his personal and professional lives were edging along a precipice and that he was losing his footing.
His eyes fell, not for the first time lately, on a sturdy, oak cabinet in one corner of his office. It was the same cabinet that had once contained the boggart he'd 'borrowed' from the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, the boggart that had shown him that what truly frightened him was a question he couldn't answer. He had a feeling though that having answered it, having told the boggart masquerading as Lucius Malfoy that even at pain of death and with promises of power and respect he would not betray his family and his principles, the form of his boggart would have changed. He wasn't sure he wanted to think about what it might be now. Death Eaters suddenly looked much less terrifying than attractive quidditch players with charming smiles and a certain disregard for society's rules. He'd brought the cabinet with him from his previous office though to act as a reminder, to make him think about how close he had come to giving in to his fears.
Both boggarts, the one he had seen and the one he feared he might see now, had a similar theme - the conflict of self-interest with what he thought was right. The boggart had been the desire to live and to succeed battling with the desire to fight for what he believed to be right even when it would destroy him. The desire to succeed was again at the bottom of what he struggled with now. The Ministry would not take kindly to him being involved with another man and Percy wanted to succeed so badly that it almost tore him up to see the headway he'd made in gaining Druscilla's respect slipping away from him as she saw him for the coward he likely was. A coward who was becoming ever more uncomfortably aware that he also wanted to be involved with Oliver, just not necessarily at the expense of his career.
Somehow risking his respectable image seemed more difficult than risking his life had been and yet he found himself if not quite contemplating it then wanting to contemplate it. He was not someone to say that success when you were alone was meaningless. He could still see an appeal in a life spent alone working for what he wanted with the single minded determination he had always had. What did not appeal to him was that taunting voice in the back of his head telling him he was a coward and that he didn't deserve Oliver if he didn't have the guts to confront what really made him hesitate.
XXXXXXX
It was dark by the time the Hogwarts Express arrived in a fog of freezing drizzle at Hogsmeade's sleepy little station. The station was quiet for much of the year, wizards didn't tend to frequent the rail network, and would likely have fallen foul of Beeching's wizarding equivalents if not for the insistence of the school that the station was very much necessary for it's students. The Ministry had made noises about portkeys but the Hogwarts staff had, sensibly, pointed out that it was hard enough for the parents of muggleborns to send them off into an unknown world as it was without having them literally disappear into it.
At that very moment Hermione Granger was beginning to feel she would give anything to just disappear. The idea of facing the stares and questions of the other students prompted her to step in front of the compartment's door as the others got up to leave. "Wait, let's just let everyone else depart first."
They waited in silence for a few minutes before stepping out to find every else gone on ahead and a single thestral drawn carriage waiting in the road for them.
The group remained quiet on the short journey up to the castle. The carriage seemed to move quicker than usual to catch up with its counterparts and they arrived at the school steps as the last of the students were processing in. Neville, in his usual quiet, gentlemanly, manner, handed Luna down from the carriage and escorted her up the steps, carrying her large and heavy looking shoulder bag for her.
Meanwhile Ron and Hermione hung back, not eager to face the inevitable questions. They could only wait so long however, it was cold outside and the prospect of dinner was a tempting one, so they soon ran up the steps after their classmates. There were still a few students milling in the Entrance Hall but a glare from Ron had them backing off and heading straight into the Great Hall. All except for one.
"Is it true?" Only Colin's distraught expression stopped Ron from sending the elder Creevey brother away as he had everyone else.
"Yeah, it's true," he responded quietly.
The younger boy's eyes filled with tears and he seemed about to question further when Professor McGonagall entered the hallway. "What are you all dawdling for? Come on inside, dinner's starting in a minute."
They filed in to yet more curious looks and a wave of whispers spread around the hall when it became clear Harry was not with them. Hermione guided Ron to a space next to where Neville was already sat with Seamus and Dean. Colin tagged miserably along behind them.
As soon as they were sat down, before anyone could ask further questions, Dumbledore stood and the room fell silent.
"Welcome back, all of you." The Headmaster spoke gravely. "I hope you all enjoyed your holidays. Before dinner is served I have to speak with you on a matter both grave and sensitive. I need to speak to you all as the mature young people I know you can be. There are a lot of rumours flying around, not just within Hogwarts but within the wider wizarding community, the Ministry would have us refuse to comment on the matter but I believe you have a right to the truth. One of your classmates, Harry Potter, was abducted at the beginning of the Christmas holidays and remains missing. I would urge you to be considerate of his friends at this time and not to trouble them with questions or comments on the situation," his gaze seemed to flit over to the Slytherin table at this point, but they were already silent under the watchful eye of Professor Snape. "Our world has entered a difficult time but, no matter how dark times become, within these walls there is always light and help for those that ask for it. You are safe here, all of you." Food appeared on the tables as he finished speaking and the students tucked in, though less enthusiastically than usual Ron thought.
Hermione's eyes pricked treacherously at Dumbledore's reassuring tone and kind words but she blinked ruthlessly and dug her nails into her palms, there was no way she was going to allow herself to break down in here.
Ron noticed her pale face and set jaw and wisely said nothing, turning instead to answer Dean's enquiries about Ginny. He spent the entire meal determinedly talking to the other boy about his sister, Hermione eventually joining in, and the rest of the Gryffindors left them alone.
Towards the end of the meal, when most had finished their dessert and the tables were starting to empty, Luna left the Ravenclaw table and sank down next to Neville in the seat across from Ron.
"Did anyone try the treacle tart?" the blonde girl asked dreamily, "I didn't think it was as good as usual. I think the house elves are too upset by all this to cook properly."
"Yes, Luna, that's the real tragedy here, the slave labour are off their cooking!" Hermione snapped.
Luna cocked her head to one side, "Do you feel better now? I know some people find it therapeutic to become abrupt in these circumstances." It seemed for all the world to be a genuine question.
Hermione had turned an interesting colour and Neville could see an almighty explosion brewing if things continued. "Luna," he took the girl's arm, a little anxious at his own forwardness but feeling that physically removing the two girls from each others' presence was vital, "I have to go owl my grandmother to let her know we've all arrived safely, walk up to the Owlery with me?"
To his great surprise Luna linked their arms more firmly and gave him a small but sunny smile, "Yes. I should maybe owl my dad too, he worries so much these days. I'll see you later, Ron, Hermione." she gave the two of them a little wave and Neville caught Ron's look of relieved gratitude as he found himself stumbling along after the Ravenclaw.
The noise Hermione let out as soon as the two were out of sight could only be described as somewhere between a huff and a snort. "Come on, let's get to the common room, at least she can't show up there."
Ron followed her as she all but flounced, most uncharacteristically, out of the Great Hall. He caught her up on the staircase. "Luna wasn't trying to upset you, she was just making conversation."
"Oh you would defend her wouldn't you!"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Hermione refused to answer him and stormed towards the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Hermione!" he hurried to catch up with her and all but fell through the portrait hole in his rush.
The Common Room was already full and as they entered it everyone steadily fell quiet. Angry and tired, frustrated by Hermione, and with a headache that was building by the minute, Ron glanced around to find everyone trying not to stare at them and failing miserably.
"Did you all want something?" he asked suddenly, causing Hermione to jump beside him. "Do you all want to hear the details? Want to hear about how they took him? If they've hurt him? If he's dead?" The room simply stared in shock as Hermione tried to take his arm but was shaken off as he continued, voice rising in anger, "Well go on, ask your bloody questions, what are you waiting for?"
The silence was absolute, broken only by Colin sniffling in a corner. Eventually Dean turned to Parvati and said in a significant tone, "How about a game of Gobstones?"
The girl's surprised confusion lasted only a moment before she caught his meaning and nodded firmly, "Yes, I'll just go and get my set."
Their performance was the cue for everyone else to begin talking again, and if most of them were discussing Ron's outburst the boy himself was oblivious to it as he stormed away up the stairs to the dormitory.
The dorm was empty, quiet and orderly. It always was when they first got back, the house elves taking the opportunity granted by their absence to tidy the place up after the destructive impulses of five teenage boys had been inflicted on it for a term. It gave the whole room a rather impersonal edge Ron always thought, without dirty quidditch gear lying on the floor, or Neville's homework mingling with Dean's sketches and Seamus' socks atop a dresser. Today it seemed worse than ever. Harry's bed seemed to stare accusingly from the other side of the room, crisply made with fresh sheets, the curtains tied neatly beside the pillows. Even his trunk had been returned to the end of the bed, as though no one could think of anywhere else it might belong. After all there was no real home to send it to besides here.
Ron strode quickly over to the bed and yanked the curtains closed around it, unable to bear looking at it any more, then moments later flung them open again, the illusion that Harry could be asleep just the other side of them too much to handle.
A small noise from the doorway alerted him to someone else's presence. A gentle hand landed on his shoulder and an Irish accent exhorted him to, "Come downstairs, mate."
Ron shook his head and shrugged Seamus off angrily. "And do what? Play Gobstones while Harry rots at Voldemort's pleasure?!" The name he always refused to use suddenly exploded out of him.
Seamus flinched and recoiled as though physically stung. The Irish boy was not so easily deterred however. "Do you think staying here wearing out the bed curtains is going to be any more productive?"
"They could be hurting him, they could be torturing him, he could be dying!" Ron snapped before adding quietly, "He could be dead."
Seamus grasped Ron firmly by his biceps and insisted, "He's not dead. They'd make damn sure everyone knew about it if he was."
"I feel like I'm sat around here waiting for them to." Ron balled his hands into fists but did not pull away from his friend. "I just want to do something, I want to help him, I want to hurt them!"
Seamus pulled him over to his bed and gently pushed him to sit. The Irish boy remained standing awkwardly over him, wringing his hands slightly, clearly about to say something he found difficult. "When Lavender died," Seamus' hands may have been revealing his discomfort but his voice was steady and sure, "Despite how kind you all were, you particularly," he gave Ron a grateful smile, "The thing that helped most was talking to Parvati because she was feeling the same way. She understood."
The look Ron gave him seemed to have been an attempt at scornful that simply wound up at lost. "You think talking to someone will help with this?"
"I think Hermione's sat down in the common room hoping you'll come back down, feeling just as wretched as you do and I think she's the only one who can really understand what you're feeling right now. The two of you have stood by Harry through everything, we're all worried but I can't even imagine what you two are feeling. Come downstairs, she's just sat alone in a corner, she's not even reading anything and you know that's a bad sign."
Ron allowed himself to be manoeuvred by Seamus to the stairs and made his way slowly back down to the Common Room. He wasn't thrilled at the idea of going back to where he had just so spectacularly stormed out of but the other students seemed to have taken the hint that he was not in a state of mind to be stared at or asked questions and tactfully ignored him as he hesitated at the base of the stairs.
Hermione was curled up in a chair in the corner nearest to the fire staring at the flames, looking very small and alone. Everyone seemed to be giving her a wide berth, like they had with Neville and Seamus at the start of the year. People were too keen to avoid any awkward conversation. Neville was nowhere in sight and Ron assumed he was still at the Owlery with Luna.
Ron crossed quickly over to Hermione, "Hi."
She glanced up and gave him a weak smile, "It's so strange being back without him. It just seems so final."
Despite what he had been feeling himself, he shook his head vehemently as he crouched beside her and took her hand impulsively, "It's not. They're making progress, they've not given up."
"You were right, we shouldn't have come back." Her eyes shone with rage, "We have to help him! And that means we need to know what they're doing. You must keep writing to Percy, make sure you find out what's going on!"
"Percy's gone a bit non-communicative suddenly, he's been in a right strop since the New Year. Seems like finding You-Know-Who's just made him worse."
"It's probably just that now he's got nothing to focus on," Hermione said, "He's been fixated on this one task for a while now and completing it's meant he's probably got too much time to think about things."
"Hmm," Ron sounded unconvinced, "He's acting like he used to again, self-important and aloof."
"He's still usually the most likely to tell us what's going on. Promise me you'll write to him!" she appealed.
"Alright, alright, I'll write to him," Ron thought it was easier to just agree with her. "I think we should talk to Hagrid as well, he's always been easy to get information from."
Hermione nodded fervently, "You're right. Tomorrow?"
"Yeah," he squeezed her hand reassuringly, "You should go and get some sleep, you look exhausted."
"So do you."
"I'll go to bed early if you do."
She looked around at the now quieter common room to see the other students still glancing at them curiously, if rather more surreptitiously, and sighed. "If only to be out of everyone's sight for a while." She climbed wearily from the chair, pulling him up after her. "Goodnight Ron," she seemed reluctant to let go of his hand and squeezed so tight he swore he could feel his bones grinding together.
To his mind the situation was not improved by the appearance of Crookshanks clawing at his ankle.
"Oh Crookshanks!" Hermione gathered the cat up into her arms, burying her face in his long fur. "Isn't it amazing how he always knows when he's wanted."
Ron couldn't find words to respond as she carried the cat off to bed with her, except to mutter as he looked down at his ripped trouser leg and sore ankle, "I hate that cat."
XXXXXXX
Percy was still at work, still staring at that damned Oak Cabinet and still without the first idea of what he was going to do. He couldn't remember ever having a less productive afternoon in work, unless you counted that one with the Swedish Ambassador who didn't speak English when the translator hadn't turned up. He'd toyed with the idea of going back in to speak to Druscilla after Kingsley had left, toyed with the idea so long in fact that the next thing he had known she had been putting her head round his door and telling him she was off and not to work too late.
He'd managed to procrastinate until the decision had been made for him and he supposed that the longer he sat and agonised over his relationship with Oliver the more likely it was that the same thing would happen there.
Percy had always been someone to sit back and consider things at length before reacting to them, even as a child he could hardly have been described as impulsive. He was cautious, dependable, predictable - and he was sick of it. He was so tired of over-thinking his every move and worrying endlessly about the consequences. His resentment towards Fred and George was due to more than their ridiculing of him, he envied the ease with which they seemed to drift through life and how unconcerned they always seemed by everything.
A little spark of rebellion fired at the idea of acting without a plan for once, of not over-thinking things, being spontaneous.
Leaping to his feet, Percy grabbed his cloak and whirled it about his shoulders and, before he had time to think about what he was doing, he raced out of the office (forgetting his briefcase for the first time ever) and hit the emergency override to summon the lift (a move he'd learnt from Druscilla and often criticised her for using in non-emergency situations - but if he started to think again before he got where he was going this would be an emergency situation). Once down in the foyer he dashed out of the small side door that led into a quiet back alley (again meant for use in emergencies only) and instantly apparated away.
Percy was outside Oliver's door and knocking loudly before he could really even register how cold it was and that he probably should have stopped at least long enough to put his robes back on over his shirt and trousers as well as his cloak. He had no further time to contemplate this though as the door swung open to reveal Oliver, barefoot in an old t-shirt and jeans, hair sticking up in places where he'd run his hands though it.
"Percy. It's late, what are you doing here?" His tone was confused and, for Oliver, shockingly reserved.
Percy hesitated, that spark of rebellion he'd felt was extinguished as he realised that coming here without a plan meant that he now had no idea how to act. This, he thought to himself, was why he liked plans so much in the first place - without one he felt lost. "I wanted to talk to you," he managed to blurt out.
Oliver looked unimpressed, "That's quite a leap from not being able to look at me."
Percy flushed and almost looked away before realising that that could only make things worse. "I'm looking at you right now, in fact what I'm looking at is someone who's leaving their guest on the doorstep in early January in the middle of the night when it's bloody freezing!"
"Oh you're my guest are you?"
The touch of almost amusement in Oliver's tone gave Percy the courage to persevere. "I will be when you let me in."
Oliver seemed to give up. "Fine," he said, a little coldly, "Come in, sit down, let me get you a drink." He turned away, leaving Percy to follow him.
A drink sounded ideal to Percy's nerves but Oliver simply set a kettle on the stove, apparently Dutch courage was out of the question. They were silent while the kettle boiled, Oliver staring distractedly at it and Percy trying to rediscover the courage that had brought him there.
"Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?" Oliver's voice seemed to have softened a fraction as he took the whistling kettle off the stove and grabbed a pair of mismatched mugs from a cupboard.
"Tea, thank you." He wanted coffee but it was far too late and he'd had far too much of it already.
Another silent minute passed before Oliver handed him a steaming mug and wandered wordlessly out of the kitchen into a large yet cosy lounge and sat purposefully on one side of an overstuffed couch, his expression daring Percy to sit beside him.
Percy had not risen through the Ministry by backing down from a challenge, in fact he might well have got along better with people in general and his brothers in particular if he hadn't felt a constant need to prove himself. However the surprised and slightly pleased expression on Oliver's face as he joined him on the couch suggested that defiance was not always a bad thing.
Oliver had not taken his eyes from him since he'd sat down, "So, I believe you wanted to talk."
His tone was not encouraging but Percy had become a master at listening to what people didn't say and the fact Oliver had invited him in and made him a drink implied that he was at least willing to listen. "I did." He just didn't know where to begin, he wasn't even fully sure where he wanted this conversation to end. "The Ministry's planning a raid with the Order, on the island we found."
"Right now?"
"No," Percy was confused, "No, of course not now."
Oliver smiled in twisted amusement, "Then it begs the question of why I need to know about it now."
"I thought you'd want to know. After all we...I couldn't have found it without you."
Oliver's expression softened a little. "Yes you would. You really are brilliant. But that doesn't answer the question. Why are you here at gone midnight to tell me this? Why are you here, Percy?" Oliver was looking ever more impatient.
"I'm here because there is something we should probably discuss, and I admit I've been avoiding the issue, but the other day, on the beach..."
Oliver's expression had become irritatingly neutral, "What about it?"
"Well, before I left, you seemed to be about to..." Percy trailed off again, suddenly unsure. What if he had completely misread what was happening?
"To what?"
Percy searched the handsome face in front of him in desperation for some hint of what the other man was thinking but Oliver's expression was as blank and unfeeling as he had ever seen it. There had been enough dancing around the topic though and, scared of Oliver's reaction as he was, Percy was becoming tired of his current attitude and decided it was about time to risk the truth. "Kiss me."
And there, finally, was the reaction. Something definitely flickered briefly across Oliver's face, as though for one split second he had thought it was an invitation rather than an answer. Percy wasn't sure how much he would have minded if Oliver had chosen to interpret it that way.
"Even if I was, I think your reaction made your feelings quite clear. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable and I think it would be desirable for both of us if the matter was dropped."
Percy however, having made it this far, was not about to let the matter drop. "I shouldn't have run off the way I did. I panicked. I was more than a little shocked and I'm sure you can't be oblivious to the opinions some people hold on this sort of thing, especially in the more conservative sections of the ministry - by which I mean most of it. My reaction was far less about what I might feel than about what other people might think."
If Percy had expected any of this to improve Oliver's mood he had been wrong, Oliver looked furious. "Well I'm very sorry if I compromised your reputation. I think you should leave, it's late."
"I didn't mean it like that!" Percy was slowly becoming aware that what he had just said could have sounded a lot like, 'yes I do have feelings for you but you're not worth the risk to my reputation'.
"Because concern for your reputation's never been much of a motivator for you." Oliver snapped.
"Oliver!" The quidditch player looked a little apologetic at the shocked and hurt look his words had produced but Percy was becoming too angry himself to want apologies. "You know what, fine, I'll leave if that's what you really want!"
"I want to know what brought you here in the first place!" Oliver sounded ever more frustrated.
"I told you, I wanted to talk to you." Percy found he could no longer meet the other man's eyes.
"Really? Because you don't seem to be doing a lot of talking now you're here!"
"Then maybe, as you pointed out, I shouldn't be here." Percy turned to leave, aware that further conversation would simply lead to further fighting with the mood they both seemed to be in. He hadn't taken more than a step towards the door though when he found himself being pulled back around.
"Just show me what you want!" Oliver snapped, strong hand closing firmly on Percy's wrist and preventing him from leaving. He sounded angry and tired and frustrated.
As Percy hesitated, searching for a response, the anger in Oliver's eyes dimmed and he began to loosen his, in truth far too tight, grip on the other man.
He thinks I'm going to leave. The thought flashed though Percy's mind suddenly as he realised that Oliver had never expected this to end any other way. He tore his wrist from Oliver's grasp, suddenly almost as furious as Oliver was, (though whether with Oliver, himself, or simply the whole situation he couldn't have said) and grabbed the other man's muscular upper arms, dragging him into a heated kiss and admittedly revelling slightly in the fact Oliver had to look up to him when they were this close.
When Oliver finally drew back he simply stared at Percy for a long moment as though he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Percy himself was gasping for breath and wanting nothing more than to kiss Oliver again. Oliver eventually grinned and cocked his head curiously at Percy, "Was that really so hard?"
To his dismay, Percy found himself blushing slightly at the, presumably, unintentional double entendre, which only caused Oliver to grin all the wider and pull him down to sit beside him on the couch.
"So was this was your plan? Come here, ramble, grab me and kiss me? Not that I'm complaining but it doesn't live up to your normal standards of organised and efficient planning," he teased.
"I didn't have a plan."
"Percy Weasley didn't have a plan!" Oliver chuckled, his fingers running lightly across Percy's palm.
"Shall we say I was attempting to inject some spontaneity. How did I do?" Percy looked nervous, as though expecting Oliver to grade him.
"Well," Oliver was clearly trying not to laugh now, "You started out well by actually getting here but then went quickly downhill into unhelpful, and by the way occasionally insulting, rambling." He silenced Percy's apology with a kiss before drawing back just far enough to add, "However, I must say I like where it's going now."
Percy smiled and kissed him again.
XXXXXXX
A/N: Massive thanks to anyone taking the time to read, I'm going to try and make sure you get chapter 25 by Christmas (which would be a vast improvement on my previous update rates of late!). Any comments or thoughts on the chapter I'd love to hear from you! :)