School & Year: Ilvermorny Year 5

Topic: Paragraphs

WC: 596

The bathroom door shut behind him with a click, and Percy slid down it to the floor. His hands wrapped so tightly in his hair that he could pretend that the tears beading at the edges of his eyes were from that, nothing more.

They weren't.

The sobs exploded out of him like a punch, and Percy broke with the effort of keeping them contained, curling forwards onto the cold tile floor. He couldn't do this. But it had to be done. The same dilemma plagued his every footstep since he was a child, and first understood what it meant when he wore patched hand-me-downs, while everyone else had new ones. Percy knew what it was to be lesser than others. It wasn't a burden he should carry.

"The—" His whisper broke off into another sob, nails biting into the meat of his palms, and he pulled in a breath through gritted teeth, forcing himself to sit upright with his back to the door.

Focus.

"The usages of dragon's blood are as varied as the creatures themselves. Twelve of these uses were discovered by Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding. The legitimacy of this claim has been contested, though nothing has come of this yet.

"Common household usages of dragon's blood are— are household cleaner for— for ovens; spot remover and verrucas. It can also be used— also be used as a stabiliser in potions. One type of potion that dragon's blood is essential for is Everlasting Elixirs."

"Percy?"

Percy jumped, his head smacking against the door with a dull thud. He whimpered, teeth sinking into his lip as he pressed his hands to his head, curling forwards once more. Just a little while longer, he just needed a bit more time—

"Percy!"

The door vibrated behind him as Oliver smacked his fist against it. "Percy, come on!"

"In a minute!"

Percy pulled himself up onto trembling feet, stumbling as he staggered towards the sink set on the opposing wall. His hands shook as he pressed them to the porcelain, barely feeling the cold through his numb fingers. The face that greeted him in the mirror didn't look like his own: hollow, pale cheeks broken by a tangled web of freckles; dark purple bruises beneath his sunken eyes, only highlighted further by his heavy-rimmed glasses. He looked ill. He looked like he was dying.

"Percy!"

Before he could hesitate anymore, Percy stormed back across the room and threw open the door.

Oliver stepped back, hand raised to knock again, and his face paled for a moment before he bounced back. The other boy always was eternally cheerful, even in the face of Percy's rage. "Finally! Are you coming? It's time for breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

Oliver shook his head, stepping forward and throwing an arm around Percy's waist and propelling them both forwards towards the dormitory door in the same motion. "Yes, you are. The potions exam is in three hours, and you need something to eat."

Percy hissed in a breath through his teeth, but let Oliver steer them, his thoughts turning to the twist of nerves in his gut, and the trembling of his fingers. "I can't do this."

Oliver's hands were so warm in his, calloused thumbs smoothing over Percy's reddened knuckles, and Percy momentarily forgot how to breathe, his endless repetition falling from his mind. He could have stayed like this forever, in the peace and quiet, bathed in the early morning sunshine.

"You can do this," Oliver murmured, squeezing Percy's hands tightly. "I believe in you."