A/N: This is entry #2 for the We Got Locked Down! (but we'll get out again) drabbles contest in QLFC's Prophet Issue #6.
Title: Raise A Glass to Freedom
Words: 564
Percy sat on his trunk, which took up most of the remaining floor of the flat's tiny living room that wasn't already covered by the sofa. He looked up at the flat's tenant and his good friend from Hogwarts' days, Oliver Wood, who hovered over him in the cramped space.
"Thanks again for letting me stay. I'll be out of here the second I let a place of my own. No more than a week's time. I promise," Percy said.
"It's not a problem. I'm barely here anyway with practice and matches and travel. I'm just sorry I don't have more space for you." Oliver smiled. He was the reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United, which apparently didn't pay exceptionally well if this was the flat he could afford.
"Oh, this is perfectly adequate. Truthfully, anywhere is better than staying another moment with my traitorous family. I had to get out of there."
Oliver nodded, clearly unsure what to say. Percy's letter asking to crash on his sofa hadn't exactly been forthcoming with details. In fact, Hermes had delivered it only minutes before Percy himself arrived that night.
Finally, he offered, "Beer?"
"Alcohol is only for celebrations or drunks," Percy said succinctly. He always felt that true, especially whenever Charlie showed up for a visit already having had a bottle of wine. It was disgraceful, just like the rest of his family. Even Bill who had always seemed so rational despite his choice of appearance seemed to have gone down this You-Know-Who's returned rabbit hole with the rest of them.
He sighed wearily, glancing out the flat's narrow window at the dimly lit alleyway below. After everything he'd been through with the Bartemius Crouch Sr. debacle in the spring, he'd hoped his parents at least would be pleased for his promotion. Why else would the Minister make him his Junior Assistant if not because all the inquiries proved him to be competent and have excelled in his role under that madman Crouch? If the Minister himself could see Percy's qualifications, then his father's opinion on the matter was of little consequence.
He reflected on their row from earlier that evening. It had been impossible not to laugh when his father accused him of being a planted spy for Minister Fudge, as if Arthur Weasley ever did anything of importance to spy on. The sooner he could shed the horrendous reputation of being that man's son, the better. It was an enormous anchor dragging him down. Now that he'd cut the rope, he'd be able to breathe freely, no longer drowning in the impoverished sea of the Burrow and its occupants.
"Well, it's a celebration then," Oliver said, bringing him back to the present.
Percy heard the fizzing noise of two bottle caps coming off and turned to see Oliver was handing him a bottle of Dragon Scale Ale.
"Of what?" he asked, wondering if Oliver had already heard of his promotion.
"Your freedom from home, of course!" Oliver grinned toothily, and Percy couldn't help but smile as he took the beer.
"To escaping the Weasley name!" he cried.
They clinked bottles and drank. As the amber liquid went down, it coated Percy with a new sense of purpose. He had a great job, a wonderful friend, and within the week would be in his very own place. He didn't need his family, he never had.