as i remember the warnings, i will reiterate it just about once more: isolation, imprisonment, physical and mental abuse - some described in great detail, some only hinted, unlawful discrimination and God knows what else i decide to put in last minute... that 'God know what else i decide to put in last minute' includes suicidal ideation (possibly an attempt may it be successful or not later on) and mentions/possible illustrations of self-harm... yes, the self-harm is new. the thing is, it's in the original draft so i'm inclined to add it on just in case.
i've mentioned this way before, but i apologise for any spelling mistakes and grammical errors thus far. hopefully, they don't deter from the story line!
i had my laptop open onto the chapters, and i read them and i absolutely loathed the next ones. i deleted them, started afresh, and just got to finishing this chapter round today. fun fact: the breakdown scene with Percy and Molly was not planned. it seemed that these characters have a mind of their own. another thing that wasn't planned was the fact that i used a Bill point of view. well... it's been a while!
replies to any inquiries in the previous chapter:
Sakura Lisel: i'm not gonna lie. this comment made me die of laughter.
chemical violets: oh god, i love your comments. they never cease to put a smile on my face, and a bit of a laugh. 15 year old Percy is less of a brat, he is... well, for the moment at least. ;) God knows what other stupid bollocks he'd be getting into with me writing and him having his own little persona whether i like it or not!
Spirits in the Sky: aye, but underappreciated!Percy is the best. and i've to say i loved writing Penelope suddenly so pissed off Percy when she used to adore him so much.
Ward Vermassen: my French is so rusty that you can smell the iron off it a country away. i'm not really sure about it, as a friend did it for me but she's a lit student and has French/English as majors. i absolutely adore your character breakdown of Percy. i think i've read your comment about 4 times since you've posted it. it makes sense to me though i've never really thought of it this way! kudos to you xxx
Chapter Twenty-Eight
"Oh, Percy! What about this then?" an excited Molly picked up a little beige box that had all kinds of imported raven quills that smelled of musk and wood.
Percy, who was holding a pair of gloves made out of dragonhide, tossed a look at the quills.
"Mum, whilst I do appreciate the gesture, especially given their price," Percy wouldn't spend that much on a quill even if it was made primarily out of golden feathers plucked from that ruddy coward Davies' back. "I have to decline solely for the fact that I believe that a newborn doxy wouldn't be able to fit these microscopic quills into their hands. Thank you."
Molly's deep brown eyes shone in the dim lightning of the small, cramped shop. "They aren't that small."
"Mum, if I was vengeful enough about what Bill's done to the patchwork blanket I've knitted for him this summer, I'd wrap one of those quills around that grotesque fang earring of his and hope that, when he's snoring, he accidentally inhales this raven feather and chokes on it," Percy said calmly, shoulders stiff and lips pressed into a tight line. "Except, perhaps it mightn't cause him to choke considering I've seen larger bacteria, so I would simply stand there looking like an absolute berk."
Molly's cheeks coloured into a vibrant red hue as she watched him put down the gloves and push up his oversized horn-rimmed glasses. "Do you want to go down to the bookstore?"
"I would love to... if not for the fact that that I have so many books that I had to dismantle my bed and construct one entirely out of ancient texts and a sticking charm," Percy droned.
He really did have so many books that he actually ran out of space in his small room to put them in. The few times that anyone walked into his room, they complained of a dire claustrophobia and a 'blinding light'. Said blinding light may or may not be attributed to the fact that Percy had a somewhat bright colour-coded schematic that spanned a whole wall of exactly what text he'd bought and where he'd put it... organised in alphabetical order of course. He literally slept on his reading material every single night. As hard as Percy tried to organise his room, he simply had so many books he had to stack them up on the floor as much as he despised the idea. Percy barely had the space to manoeuvre in the bloody room himself. Many a time his barely there behind would smack up against a stack of books. Once he bought a lass to his room and she accused him of smacking her bottom, which Percy would never do... well, at least a sober Percy.
"What?" Molly looked oddly surprised. "Bill did tell me something about your room looking like you've managed to condense the Hogwarts' library in less space than a troll's coffin."
Percy did recall that when he was drunk he might have said something to someone about how he did have a Restricted Section in his bedroom but he waved that thought away.
"He's overdramatic," Percy mumbled. "It's spacious enough."
No, his mum hadn't seen his room since the fateful night he'd managed to 'redecorate' it, mostly because she respected his privacy. Molly knew that when Percy locked his room with an onslaught of charms that one would normally use for their Gringott's safe, it usually meant that he did not want to be disturbed.
Unfortunately, the rest of the house did not get this message and Bill, that ruddy curse breaking twonk, could disable any variety of charms that Percy used for his room in less time that it took the Chudley Canons to lose a Quidditch match.
"Of course, you consider it spacious. Well, look at you," Molly said, eyes on his frame as he shifted to pick up a dream catcher. "I've made cakes that are heavier than you."
"Mum, you've made cakes that are heavier than Charlie," Percy reminded her.
Speaking of Charlie, he looked like he'd put on a stone of muscle since he'd been working in that blasted reserve. Unfortunately, this aesthetical value was counteracted by the fact that he was littered with more burns than freckles. Percy would never forget the day that Molly actually cried when she saw Charlie's entirely charred arm. Charlie had been thrown into the burn unit in St Mungo's a couple of times. They were able to salvage most of his skin on numerous occasions. Percy loathed that Charlie kept on working in that—that unsanitary, hazardous environment. It unsettled both Percy and Molly that Charlie took his burns as badges of honour and had taken to explaining to anyone he saw precisely where and how he got his burns.
Percy looked back at the dream catcher, running his finger across it. What an ugly contraception.
"Do you really have that many books?" Molly suddenly asked, surprise still evident in her voice.
Percy nodded his head calmly, as he placed down the dream catcher and picked up an old pocket watch that looked like it had seen better days... probably around the 17th century. It was broken, tarnished, non-functioning and retailed for so many Galleons that Percy would have to sell his body for a decade just to make his first deposit. He toyed with the silvery handles, musing to himself. Percy knew that if he broke it, Arthur would murder him—preferably with said pocket watch. "Yes."
Molly looked up at him, eyes warm and a shameless grin resting on her soft face. "I don't really buy you that many books now, do I? I have spent a fair bit of my pocket money on books for you but not..."
"Mum, you spend all of your pocket money on me," Percy cut her off.
"I do not," Molly huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"When's the last time you've bought yourself some new robes? Or some jewellery?" he said, as he picked up a pair of silver owl earrings. The owls flapped their miniature wings energetically.
Remorsefully, Percy did not really recall the last time his mum bought something for herself. Her favourite violet robes were coming apart at the seams and she refused to pop down to a shop to get a new one tailored for herself. His mum could be fairly stubborn about it. Percy wouldn't be surprised if tomorrow morning, all her robes would simply unravel into nothing more than tawdry cotton and tawny buttons.
"Come off it, Percival," Molly took the earrings from his hands and placed them back. "I don't need gifts."
Percy opened his mouth to speak but not before he was bumped into the table. His stomach dug into the sharp wood, as he dropped the silvery earring. His knee had banged into the small stool that was underneath the table. His dodgy leg was now throbbing in the utmost agony and it took all of Percy's dignity not to swear out and threaten murder on the blasted arsehole that knocked him down. For the past few minutes, Percy had been dragging his dodgy leg, which was swollen with more fluid than the Great bloody Lake. Now, it was raging with a hot-white searing pain. He felt his eyes water.
"I didn't see you there, bruv!" a squeaky feminine voice called out. "You alright? You're looking to be in horrible pain."
I didn't see you vere, bruv, Percy reiterated in his head, emphasising on that dreadful accent. You awright? You're looking to be in 'orrible pain. His Ancient Runes textbook was more easily decipherable.
"Fine, thank you very much," Percy mumbled in irritation as he took in her features: hair so unkempt it looked like a black Kneazle went on and died on top of her head, lips so devoid of colour it looked like she was suffering from a case of rigor mortis and shoulders so broad that Percy immediately suspected troll blood. In fact, he did because not only because of that characteristic smell (which he would assume was a cross between an owl emporium and Fred and George's manky socks) and the broadness of her gaunt frame, but also for the fact that normally, his six-foot tall Devon arse didn't have to look up to a women.
She laughed gaudily and then offered him a wet kiss on the cheek. "No harm done, is there, mate?"
"None at all," Percy said, and waited until she left before he'd rubbed the wet patch on his cheek. He, too, gave strangers kisses that were sloppier than a crup's when he bumped into them. He quickly dismissed this behaviour. He was aware that part trolls weren't the brightest bean in a box of Bertie's Every Flavour Beans. He noticed that his mum was trying not to laugh. "Mum, this is not funny."
Molly only replied by leaning up and giving him a quick peck on his cheek.
THERE was a new little no-melt milkshake stand just a few blocks away from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Molly tended to have an overzealous attitude towards Percy trying new sweet shops. She'd always hoped that one of these little shops would win Percy over and see him put on a couple of stones.
As Percy was sat down on one of the benches and attempting to explain to a twenty-year-old why he did not wish to purchase five kilos of plums, Molly looked over at the selection. Although she thought the prices a bit too much and odd that it was all in Latin, she simply said butterscotch, hoping that Percy still preferred his ice-cream to be on the caramel, toffee or butterscotch spectrum. The man behind the counter looked at her in confusion but she only supposed that he didn't speak any English.
She didn't think much of it until about ten minutes later when Percy started to act a little oddly when he'd downed down half of his large milkshake.
Molly then stole away the milkshake to take a sip of it. A blast of creamy toffee-like caramel hit her tongue and she found herself confused. It didn't smell like much other than toffee either so she doubted potions were involved. She offered the milkshake back to Percy, who had scoffed the whole thing down in less than a minute (unusual for Percy, who normally took ages to finish anything) and threw it away in one of the bins.
After about ten minutes of walking, she was hit with a bitter taste in her mouth, a strong sensation of her throat burning as fuzzy warmth filled her body. Firewhiskey.
She turned to look at Percy, who was thin-lipped, hazy-eyed and swaying unevenly.
"You know what, mum," Percy began and the only thing that Molly hoped was that Percy was the kind of drunk that kept their clothes on. He coughed a few times, followed by a steely laugh. "I think that was an appropriate birthday gift. I would not complain if you were to purchase it for me again."
Molly Weasley wouldn't purchase him another one of those if the Dark Lord himself suddenly rose up from the dead and demanded her to.
"Shops are closing," Percy suddenly noticed, suddenly slamming into her with how he was swaying. The impact was minimal and she barely felt it. "We best get home, as I'm sure Charlie's probably ran out of all the burns and scars he could talk about by now. And—and you know what, mum?"
They passed by a few junk shops that they'd been to before.
"Ginny and Ron probably ate their weight in biscuits and..."
Molly glanced to and back to see if there was anyone that she recognised around here. She wouldn't know what to do with herself if anyone just magically popped up and asked her why Percy was so pissed that he couldn't tell his head from his arse at this point.
"And Bill probably found another animal he'd love to wear as a fashion statement and..."
Percy coughed, and glanced back at his hand.
"Seeing as it's about seven in the evening, I bet you that Fred and George just woke up from the dead," Percy mumbled. He was staring at his hand as if he owned a watch. Molly recalled that the only watch he owned served the purpose of reminding him of his various Hogwarts assignments, almost as if Percy's neurotic persona would let him forget at this point.
He stayed silent for some time, and then asked, "Do you remember—when I was little, mum?"
"You are little, Percy," Molly insisted, placing his hands on Percy's pointy arms to prevent himself from falling flat on his face with the way that he was walking. "You're only fifteen."
"It doesn't feel like it," Percy suddenly said, stopping in his tracks and slipping by a filthy-looking bench that rational, sober Percy would never allow himself to sit on. His dislike towards anything that harboured more than three particles of dust would never allow him to. "I've never felt little."
Molly sat down beside him, trying to ignore the mass of spiders that just crawled away from the bench.
Percy simply picked one of the grubby things up, pulled his knees up on the bench and placed the massive spider on his lap. This image would be enough to give Ron nightmares for weeks.
"There's something wrong with me," Percy suddenly sounded out, allowing the spider to run up to his shoulder. Molly's stomach churned, but Percy seemed to be unaffected by those long mucky legs running up to his shoulder. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or if Percy secretly had a fondness for filthy little animals—though given his obsession with that rotten rat, she was inclined to say the latter was more likely.
"There's nothing wrong with you," Molly insisted, not wanting to hear anymore of this nonsense.
Percy laughed. He sounded like a cross between a dying Kneazle and a suffocating owl.
"I remember the first war," he suddenly said, before Molly could say anything else. "If memory serves me correctly, Uncle Fabian and Gideon had an open coffin funeral."
"They did," Molly said in a low voice.
Molly watched Percy let the spider crawl to his hand before he placed it back on his thigh.
Percy suddenly stated, making her heart stop in her chest as he glanced back at her with a coldness in his sharp blue eyes. "Our safe house had a library that spanned the whole of the Burrow. I spent my time reading books that smelled like what I'd imagined a dragon's arse to smell like. Every time I discovered something rudimentary about potions and spells, I believed that I was going to save the universe. I made a plan to slip You-Know-Who and the whole of his army a very, very, very strong Sleeping Draught. At five, I thought this was a perfect, well thought-out plan. During the same time, I remember you telling me to strip down for bed every night. Three weeks you've pounded after me, wondering how I could read a book for a child thrice my age and carry round books twice my size yet still refuse to do something as minute as stripping down just before bed. I believe father once came to see me and in thirty seconds, he'd convinced me to strip down... and I've never put up a fuss after that."
Percy chuckled slightly, watching the spider trail up to his arm again.
"I remember reading books often. I naturally wanted to help, of course. I wanted to fight those terrible things that has kept us stowed away in the dark. I was in constant vigilance."
A few more chuckles escaped from Percy's mouth, almost as if he was trying to contain a funny memory.
"I remember being stood by Uncle Fabian and Gideon's coffins. Their eyes were open, dark and vacant. I remember the scent of death and decay, especially at two in the morning when I was supposed to be asleep."
"Percy..." she reached her hand out, and he immediately shifted away.
"When normalcy ensured after the war, nothing has ever been the same," and it wasn't trauma or horror or anything that Percy wished he could've attributed to. "I still had the same alert. I read more. I didn't want to help anymore. I wanted to want to help. I wanted to have a valid reason for being so subdued, so bloody empty and livid and... I just...I've never admitted it to myself because I'm a hapless spineless twat and that's why I can't be in your house. I'm such a blind coward that I wouldn't even admit most things to myself in fear of what they might mean for what kind of individual I might be."
"Percy," Molly said more sternly this time. She had no idea what he was babbling on about.
"I loved it," Percy admitted weakly.
Molly stared over at her son in bewilderment. "Loved what?"
"I didn't want the war to end," Percy clarified in a stern voice. "I had an unfilled void in my body ever since the first war. I missed it. I... I loved it."
He turned to look away from her, and gently cupped the spider in his hands. Percy stood up from the bench and leaned down to the dirty ground and released the spider from his grasp, watching it disappear off.
"I'm revolting, mother," Percy said, laughing gaudily as if he'd said a brilliant joke.
He stepped forward slightly, placing his hands in his pockets. She'd not noticed how dusty his chocolate brown trousers were from being sat on that bench until then.
"Let's go home, Percival," she said, standing up. "It's late."
Percy kept his eyes on the ground, almost as if he was looking for more spiders. "Mum?"
She wondered what could make a five-year-old fall in love with ideologies of war. She wondered if things would be the same after this, and if they should be the same.
"This changes nothing," she decided and meant it too. "I love you just the same."
Molly felt a heaviness in her heart, and wondered why so many things happened the way they did. She knew that she had to keep this between her and Percy. She didn't think anyone else could understand. He seemed ashamed of his pleasure... and he seemed more human than he ever had.
"Why did you run away, Percy?" she suddenly asked. It had been on her mind for years now, and she'd never quite built up the courage to ask.
Percy only laughed again and then said, "I need to take a piss."
MOLLY and Percy didn't turn in until eight in the evening. By then, twenty-one-year-old Bill was ready to murder a Hebridean Black and eat it (much to Charlie's chagrin). It didn't help that their mum had prepared dinner ages ago, and had put a charm to prevent the food from spoiling whilst she was out buying Percy a birthday present after she picked him up from his volunteering shifts. This meant that the house had smelt like warm bread and fish and chips for ages now, which Bill didn't appreciate when he was about three bloody seconds away from hunting for Percy's rat to give it a bit of a roast. Bill felt like he'd lost about half a stone in three hours from how cutting the hunger in his stomach was. It made him bloody wonder how Percy could be sat there, eat just a sliver of a sliver of something and then claim fullness.
"It's about time!" eleven-year-old Ron walked towards them, as Molly and Percy made their way inside.
"It is a bit late, isn't it?" Arthur said. Bill bet that his father, too, was weak from hunger—but maybe, just maybe, Bill was a little biased. "No matter. Did you two have a smashing time looking for that gift now?"
Molly looked like she was in a foul mood. "He sung all the verses of La Marseillaise... three times."
"Percy? Singing?" Charlie reiterated with a raised eyebrow.
"It's not that shocking, Charles," Fred gave him an affronted look worthy of Percy himself. "I have you know that every morning at precisely 5:25, after I've somewhat shifted the broom in my arse, I start to blurt out all the six verses of La Marseillaise but don't account for the fact that my dashing, charming brothers, Fred and George, are always up until six at the very least. Just this morning, they were sat in their room with soundproof wards on just so their laughter doesn't wake up the whole ruddy house."
Percy gave a shameless beam. Bill felt like if Medusa cracked a smile, it would look something like Percy's.
Before Bill said anything, all thirty-two balloons that the twins blew up in the morning (or late afternoon really) suddenly popped, releasing an extensive amount of candy-coloured confetti all over the place. Bill would've been amused—until he tried to shake off said confetti and it just wouldn't give.
"FRED! GEORGE!" Molly exclaimed when she discovered the same thing. "You two just couldn't resist, could you? Trying to ruin poor Percy's birthday! This isn't even remotely funny!"
Brilliant. Bill, clad in a pair of dark denim ripped trousers, a thin white t-shirt, a dragonhide jacket and boots of the same material, was now coated in a river of colourful confetti that was as gaudy as the collection of diet sweeties that Molly usually got with her Witch Weekly prescription.
"See?" Molly spat out at them. Nobody but you two are laughing!"
As the twins laughed, Bill looked over at Percy and waited for him to explode in fury, going off about how childish and immature they were being but instead, Percy, too, started to laugh with them. The sound of Percy's laughter startled Bill so much that he actually believed that hearing someone being Crucio-ed would be far less painful to the ear.
"Percy?" Bill slowly approached his brother, wondering if he was also going to explode and send colourful confetti flying all over the place. "Are you alright?"
Being close to Percy, Bill registered the smell of him. "Merlin, how pissed are you?"
"Not enough," Percy rubbed his eyes, and then laughed again. Bill felt his ears bleed.
Arthur glanced over at Molly, who was blushing deeply as she admitted, "I accidentally got him sloshed, but it's not my fault. I've bought him a milkshake from the new stand and I had no idea that they'd spiked it with firewhiskey! I didn't know that was something they did now!"
"Mum, when it's our birthday, we want you to take us to buy a gift," George grinned wildly.
AT three in the morning, Bill had someone knock onto his door. He supposed it was Percy since during the past hour; all he'd heard was the pleasant sound of violent vomiting, typically followed by a nasally throaty sound. Bill could've charmed his walls so that he wouldn't be up hearing Percy's coughing and gagging, but knowing he wouldn't sleep until much later that night, he thought the least he could do was make sure Percy wouldn't black out or have a seizure in the middle of him being sick.
When Bill opened the door, he expected misshapen curls, wrinkled pyjamas, red-rimmed eyes and the smell of vomit but instead, Percy was stood there with his hair perfectly flat, his lips pressed in a smooth line, and decked in a white button-down accompanied by a black pair of trousers. Tucked under his arm seemed to be some sort of clipboard and he was vigorously rubbing his blue eyes as if it would make him less sleepy. He looked so pale that Bill wouldn't have been surprised if Molly suddenly came up to him and told him that Percy had vampire blood running through his veins.
"Would you please side-apparate us to St Mungo's?" Percy suddenly asked, as he pulled out his volunteering badge and pinned it to his shirt almost as if Bill had already agreed.
"Us?" Bill reiterated, as a woman spontaneously appeared by his doorway, nearly giving Bill a coronary. She was tall, thin and extensively freckled with bright red ringlets. She was wearing a pair of standard black robes and had her hands in her pockets. A sickly sweet smile was formed on her thin lips that reminded Bill of how his mum looked like when she was fuming. Seeing as she was with Percy, Godric only knew what he must've done to piss her off. "Who's your little mate, Percy?"
"I am not his mate," she huffed back, crossing her arms over his chest. "He's a friendless bastard."
Percy's face remained emotionless. "William, this is Georgia. Georgia, Bill."
Bill hadn't heard himself being addressed by his full name so long ago that he hadn't even registered that Percy was talking about him. He pulled his hands out to shake her hand. Bill wondered how in Merlin's name she'd gotten in here, and decidedly assumed that she'd used their Floo—and with the unimpressed expression littered across Percy's face, he looked like he'd wished that he'd had the fireplace lit.
"Nice to meet you," Bill said, still wondering why she was in his house at three in the blasted morning.
"Can you side-apparate us?" Percy asked again.
"Side apparate you?" Bill reiterated again. "Perce, you were just throwing up ten minutes ago because you were so sloshed. Do you really want me to apparate you to St Mungo's? And why in Merlin's name am I supposed to apparate you to St Mungo's on a Thursday evening?"
"It would take too long to explain," Percy's face remained unchanged. "Apparate us near a bin."
Bill thought that Percy was off his rockers, but after a few seconds of deliberating it, took hold of their hands and apparated them into St Mungo's. As with Percy's request, Bill did apparate them near a bin—which Percy immediately sunk down to, violently retching. His clipboard was tossed aside and his hand was pressed against his abdomen. Percy must've placed a very powerful glamour charm if his hair was still just as pressed down as the rest of him.
"I didn't think you were the kind to get sloshed when you had work tomorrow," Georgia mumbled.
Percy stood up, and picked up a cup of water from a water cooler before downing it down.
"Oh, don't give me that bollocks," the cup re-filled itself with water and Percy downed it down another time. "I'm not the one under current investigation for illegal position of recreational potions."
"That's just a rumour," Georgia suddenly mentioned. "Besides, even if they did happen to find it on my persons, you are well aware that I've done a great deed of service this month and riddled the country of one more felon masquerading as a normal citizen of this society."
"Oh yes, helping send a diabetic to Azkaban," Percy bitterly said. "How could the Ministry ever repay you?"
"You know what room you're supposed to report to," Georgia huffed before taking the clipboard and shoving it towards an unsuspecting Bill. She disappeared down the long corridor.
"Georgia Brown has a history in sending anyone with controversial illness to Azkaban, or shipping them out of the country for specialised wards pertaining to their illness," Percy explained to Bill and then downed down another cup of water. "She got a twelve-year-old diabetic sent to Azkaban for uncontrolled magic during her ketoacidotic condition. Brown tied in said magical fit to the death of a twenty-year-old woman that had a wound infected with Clostridium tetani. The reason it won the Wizengamot over is because the autopsy had her at sudden cardiac death."
"So, if she knew about you..." Bill said in a whisper.
"If she knew," Percy looked back at Bill with a serious expression. "I'd be given the Kiss."
"You're bloody insane," Bill decidedly said, trying not to have his voice high enough that others could hear the conversation, not that there were many people round here. In fact, the hospital seemed to be emptier than that packet of party rings that he'd accidentally kept in Charlie's room. "Why is it that everyone you know is a psychopath? I have half a mind to tell Mum and Dad about this, because this is not just about what you want to do. We're risking our safety so that you don't have to get stuck in that ruddy ward and you're the bastard that's trying to throw that all away for a certificate to put on your stupid CV."
Percy looked surprised for a second and then enthralled. "Firstly, it's my life that I'm compromising. Do you really think that they'd be able to tell that the lot of you have known for much longer but kept it quiet? How will they confirm this even if they did have their suspicions? Secondly, even if I did leave my volunteer work now—which I am not going to under any circumstances because I have three days left and I've been pulling my feet up on this sodding job all summer—it'll ring suspicion to anyone that has more than three brain cells. Thirdly, not only does she have no suspicions at all, you are going to have to sober up to the fact that she is going to be a part of my life regardless given the fact that I am seeing her sister."
"You're dating the sister of a loony?" Bill felt like his blood boiling. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He felt like all Percy ever did was put himself in situations that were bound to spiral out of his control. "Tell me, Percival, does her sister, too, share the same philosophies? Help me gauge out how screwed we are."
Percy's ears had gone red. "I'll end up convincing her otherwise!"
"Merlin!" Bill exclaimed stormily. "All the women here in England and you choose to shag the one that wishes your kind would snuff it overnight?"
Percy opened his mouth to speak, but he had no counter argument.
"Well?" Bill called out, realising that he'd won for the most bit. It didn't take Albus Dumbledore to figure out that Percy was being an absolute berk about this whole thing.
"Don't tell Mum and Dad," Percy immediately stated. "I've it under control... please."
Bill hated this sodding bastard, playing him up with those big blue eyes and that tortured look. It didn't help that Percy looked exhausted and Bill couldn't keep the fire stirring in his veins for now. "Fine."
Percy said nothing to this. Bill didn't question Percy's silence and simply followed Percy down a few corridors, up a flight of stairs before they entered straight to the psychiatric wards.
"Why are we in the psychiatric ward, Perce?" Bill didn't like where this was going.
"Um..." Percy bit down his lower lip. "I'm to report to Caius Flint's room. He asked for me personally."
"That bastard that used to sock his own son?" Bill said. At this point, he wasn't even sure to be surprised that Percy somehow made the situation worse. It seemed like he was throwing himself off a deep end and allowing people to watch him attempt not to drown. "The one that once beat you up so bad that you were in a coma for a whole ruddy week? You told me to apparate you out of the house at three in the morning so you can wipe his old wrinkly half-troll arse?"
"I am not wiping anyone's arse," Percy said, rubbing his arm. "But yes. I had to finish this and knowing you, you would've let me take Charlie's old death contraception of a broom to get here. Still... not to worry! It'll only include minimal interaction. Stay outside and no matter what; don't attempt hexing him from a lengthy distance because I know you, William and I do not want to get anything else on my record. I've already had enough to fill three pages' worth of their health and safety violation record and somehow, all of them are tied back to the wonderful times that my family accompanies me to my workplace."
"I wasn't going to do it anyway," Bill gruffly stated as he sat down in an uncomfortable-looking chair in the waiting room. "I forgot my wand at home."
STEPPING inside the room, Percy caught sight of Caius Flint sitting in a creaky old bed at the corner of the room. The boils and abscesses that had littered his body years ago had dissolved, leaving nothing but scarred skin. The man had a few bottles of untouched pumpkin juice by his bedside and was coughing vigorously.
"Sit down," Caius ordered. He looked like a shadow of his former self.
Percy unquestioningly sat beside Caius' hospital cot. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be gestured to stay silent. Thus, for a good ten minutes, Percy sat in silence and wondered what they were waiting for—that was... if they were waiting for something. After another five minutes, Percy opened his mouth to attempt to inquire why he was sat there at three in the morning but then the door slid open and a figure stepped inside.
Percy watched Caius Flint's eyes lit up and a warm smile settling on his lips before he called out, "Marcus."