Chapter Forty-Nine

Twenty-two-year-old Percy Weasley's head was filled with white noise.

The world turned into an amorphous blur, fading out—only to come back with a sharpness that made the pounding in his head excruciating. He was panting like he'd been playing Quidditch for hours—that was, if Quidditch players typically felt like they were about to have a heart attack.

Percy swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat because if he didn't, he might stop breathing all together... which didn't particularly seem like a bad outcome given his situation.

"Perce," Fred's voice was quivering as he spoke. "I didn't mean to say any of that."

Percy's palms were sweating. He felt like he had no oxygen in his lungs and he wanted to hurt Fred like he hurt him. "Why bother explaining to the lunatic?"

"Come on, Perce!" Fred exclaimed, looking over at his family for support, most of whom were shell-shocked... except for Molly, whom was busy looking concerned about the fact that Percy was going to cause a proper scene in the middle of Twilfitt and Tatting's. Percy would not lie that he was this close to destroying fabric that would take away his father's miniscule retirement fund. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he still wanted to preserve the small amount of dignity left in his body.

"Come on what?" Percy answered through clenched teeth.

Fred swallowed the lump in his throat. "Let's just go back to the flat and—"

"The flat?" Percy echoed, his heart beating so loudly he could barely hear himself talk. "Oh no, Fredrick! I thought you wanted me to leave the flat, didn't you? You and George and... Audrey... Well, I am leaving! I'd say that I'll be packing my things but I do not have things to pack! I refuse to return to the flat and mark my words... if Merlin himself apparated before me and told me otherwise, I'd still fucking leave."

Fred flinched. "Perce—"

Percy stormed off. He turned round momentarily to catch a look of Bill, whom was gesturing towards a blonde pregnant woman (that better not be his wife, because if it was, Percy didn't know what to do with himself). Charlie gave an affirmative nod and Molly's look of apprehension didn't fade.

Percy accidentally got smacked by the door because he wasn't looking where he was going. He was fuming.

His dodgy leg ached with every step he took. He was in absolute physical agony.

Percy shoved his hands into his pockets and walked outside, feeling the breezy September air tingle down his spine. He stuck his hands down the robes that he was wearing and let himself sigh in defeat.

Lunatic. That was what he was. To Fred, to George, to Audrey, to his mum... why bother trying to hide it? Everyone knew, and soon, the rest of his family would come to see him as that unstable maniac that lost himself in the midst of yellow wallpaper.

Percy stared up into the sky, lips pursed into a tight line. He pushed back the tears brimming in his eyes.

"Percy?"

Percy turned to look over at whatever member of his family had chosen to chase him down. Of course. Bill. It had to be the bloke that Percy couldn't look at without nearly falling unconscious! Just catching sight of Bill's face made Percy's heart do a set of swirls and loops he'd only see professional Quidditch players do when attempting to catch hold of that Merlin-forsaken Quaffle.

"Bill, I would prefer it if we do not have our first conversation in six years when I'm in midst of a mental breakdown," Percy stated in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, hands still in his robes as he looked away.

"Yet here we are," Bill moved closer to Percy, making goose bumps rise on Percy's skin. A shudder followed afterwards. "You really are a Weasley."

"Pardon?" Percy replied sharply, as if Bill had said an insult.

Bill chuckled, a small smile finding his way to his lips. "First thing you do after leaving death ward was getting a girl older than me knocked up. Don't you think that's very Weasley-like?"

"She didn't tell me that she was 'knocked up'," Percy's shoulders slumped. "And If I were to guess why she didn't tell me, I'd assume it's because she thinks that if she told me, I'd end up in ruins."

The smile disappeared off Bill's face as he reached over to hold Percy's shoulder. "Look at me."

"Absolutely not," Percy stiffened at the touch. He genuinely didn't think he'd be able to hold on a conversation if he was busy staring at Bill's face. His stomach was flipping just thinking about it.

"It's my face," Bill concluded. Percy didn't know if he sounded offended or not.

Percy nodded his head, not turning to look back. "You look like you've been mauled by a werewolf," he decided to mention—as if Bill didn't know how he looked like. "If I were to look at you, I bet you that I wouldn't be able to maintain a conversation with you... at least not one without pity."

"Perce, you don't exactly look like you've just come out of a health and wellness resort," Bill sounded hurt, and then there was a chuckle, "And I was mauled by a werewolf."

Percy cocked his head to one side. He owned a mirror. He knew perfectly well how he looked like, and he ignored it all the same. He didn't need everyone else's constant reminders.

"How long have you been out of the ward?" Bill asked, and it was the question that Percy was dreading.

If Percy had been looking at Bill, now would be the time he'd look away. "Round about four months."

"Four months?" Bill reiterated incredulously. "You've been out of the ward for four bloody months and you've not thought of contacting any of us? Do you have any idea how worried we were about you? I had this thought that maybe you would've died and those bastards didn't even bother telling us—"

Percy couldn't take it anymore. He went off like one of Fred and George's Wildfire Whizz-Bangs. "Four months? Four months? I waited six years to hear from someone! Anyone! I was secluded from the universe entirely for that time! You seem to have forgotten that I existed—"

"There was a war going on!" Bill exclaimed hotly.

Percy was seething. "Well, that makes it perfectly fine. I suppose that it's alright if you all had died and I'd have left the ward with my last memories of you all being rows I've had with you when I was fifteen!"

Bill grabbed Percy by his shoulders and spun him around, pushing his chin up so that he was staring at him.

"Look at me," Bill demanded firmly.

Percy's heart was beating in his chest. He attempted to look away again, only for Bill to grab his face and fix it back at that position.

"Percy," Bill called out his name roughly this time. "Talk to me—"

Percy grabbed Bill's hand and bit him so hard that he tasted Bill's blood.

Bill jolted and then something indescribable flashed through his eyes that made Percy's spine stiffen.

Just before Percy could run, Bill attacked Percy. His head hit the ground and before he could process what to do next, his face had been pounded in by Bill's fists. Percy attempted to get a word out of his mouth, but he couldn't what with tasting blood that was seeping from somewhere...

"I cannot-I cannot look at you... if all I see is blood," Percy managed to choke out weakly.

His pathetic whimpers unfortunately did not come to a halt when Charlie seemed to join in, pushing Bill off of Percy. Charlie pinned Bill down to the ground.

"What the bloody hell are you doing? Trying to kill him?" Charlie spat out.

"Let go!" Bill attempted to break free of Charlie's grip but was avidly struggling. Charlie, whilst much shorter, was muscular whilst Bill had the same slender body he'd had since he'd started his job.

Charlie shook his head. "You're glad that his face is still in one place, or else yours wouldn't be!"

"It already isn't, Charles, but the mucker won't take a bloody look!" Bill exclaimed, his hands shaking from rage. From Percy's point of view, it looked like Bill was the one with the convulsion issues... or he was very, very cold. "Bastard!"

"DO NOT TALK ABOUT HIM LIKE THAT!" Molly's voice pulled Percy out of his reverie. Everything was happening so quickly he had no idea what in Merlin's name was going on anymore. "Percy! Hold still!"

Percy had left reality by then. He could vaguely hear his mum call out a few healing spells but he was far too busy feeling sorry for himself to pay attention.

In the same day that Fred had practically unveiled his true feelings about Percy (i.e. "the lunatic that couldn't stop attempting to snuff himself in"); he'd also discovered that his girlfriend was pregnant (but did not tell him) and that Bill apparently got agitated when people did not take a gander over at his wonderful face.

He was pulled up by Charlie, whose face was soft. His features looked horrible. He looked just as bad as Bill but instead of looking clawed by a werewolf, he looked like he'd been pressed up against a frying pan. Half his face was burned. Percy swore he could vaguely smell smoke, even though that was impossible.

"You alright?" Charlie asked. "Come on. Let's take you home. Bill, do you want to say something?"

Bill's angry had dissolved and he stared at Percy with an empathetic look. "You don't have to look at me. I'm sorry for nearly tearing off your face, lad. I'm—"

"We'll talk about this then, alright?" Charlie looked sufficed with this apology. To be honest, Percy didn't feel angry towards Bill. He just felt guilt for pitying Bill for what had happened to him. "Dad's probably got us takeaways for dinner, so I hope you don't mind curries—"

Somehow, losing a good amount of his blood didn't seem to make shock him as much as that.

"No," Percy suddenly said, barely able to breathe. "I am not going back to that house if he's there."

"Percy, he's your father," Molly tried to reason with him; as if that was a good enough reason for Percy's shoulders to stop shaking. Merlin, he was patheticpatheticpathetic uselessworthlessnothingnothingNOTHING. Fred was right. He might as well have been stuck in the loony bin because he couldn't even-couldn't even—

"No!" Percy exclaimed. "I am not going back if he's in there. I am not. I refuse to. I can't. I just—"

Viola, Fred and George seemed to somehow join their way into this conversation; along with the blonde that Percy was nearly sure was half-veela because even in the midst of his own panic, he was able to somehow appreciate how beautiful she was (Audrey would not appreciate this, he thought to himself momentarily with a sad smile). It seemed, by the carrier bag in Viola's hands, she had dragged Fred, George and Bill's wife for a bit of a shop just before she got involved in the never-ending Weasley family fiasco.

"Percy, I'm sorry," Fred's voice suddenly found its way through. "I'm so—"

"It doesn't make a difference, Fred! Nothing you will say will bloody make a difference!" George loudly exclaimed, and dear Merlin, all Percy could stare at was his ear and where it should've been and—

"Percy, breathe," Molly cut him off. "Percy, love, it's fine. It's fine. You won't see him. Is that alright? You won't see him. I'll make sure of it. You don't have to see him at all, alright? Not ever. It's like you don't have a father! Does that make anything better, love? Percy...? Percy? PERCY?"

Percy was being shaken by Molly, and he was... not there. He could feel himself struggling to regain his breath and that his lungs felt like they were on fire.

As he came back to reality, the first thing that he felt was immediate shame because he actually was acting absolutely harebrained. No wonder Fred saw him the way he did. Nobody could even mention Art—him without Percy having flashbacks of in-ward seizure episodes. He could smell vomit and feel a furry something flittering above his skin. This wasn't exactly the hallmark of mental stability.

Molly reached over to hold Percy's shoulder and squeeze it tightly. "Come on, love. Let's take you home."

MOLLY was smiling to herself when she caught sight of Marcus Flint standing by the counter, eating a thick, large slice of a coffee and walnut coffee cake.

Her kitchen was absolutely spotless and there was fresh tea brewing in the pot.

She thought that Arthur had ordered everyone a curry, but apparently, he hadn't needed to because there were pots shimmering away at the stove.

Marcus had been doing this since he'd been here. He spent most of the day with her. He let her sleep in the mornings by turning off her muggle alarm clock. Marcus insisted on holding pins in his mouth whilst she sewed, sometimes knitting with her. He made her sit down whilst she was attempting to dust. Marcus even ran her errands before she compiled a proper list of what she had to do for the week! It was ridiculous having him around. It was like having her personal house-elf, but he wasn't a house-elf. He was human being and she felt guilty for letting him do this. He probably used to own dozens of house-elves before Viola's post-divorce financial crisis. Now, he had to share robes with his sisters and he was so small compared to all of them. Madeline was the smallest. She was all skin and bones, and she probably had at least two and a half inches on him and three stones on him!

"You've made a cake? Is that coffee and walnuts is it? Anything else?" Molly asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And you've made supper? And cleaned the whole kitchen?"

"The whole house," Marcus corrected. With his accent, it sounded more like: ve 'ole 'ouse.

"You really didn't have to," Molly said, watching him offer a fork and pushing the plate towards her.

She felt a pang of pain in her chest for him. What could you tell someone whose marriage had fallen apart within the first year? Who had a child that he might never see? Molly had attempted to put herself in his shoes multiple times, but the thought made her feel too ill. Instead, she took a mouthful of the cake. It was so rich that she felt like the few sickles in her pockets were multiplying.

"This is delightful," she chirped—and extremely overbearing (she didn't tell him this).

"Using my child as a house elf, are you?" Viola Flint's voice chimed through the kitchen. She had a bright smile and Molly didn't think it was very funny. She also didn't think that it was a good thing that Viola still shopped at expensive shops whilst her ten children (if she was correct, Marcus had nine sisters—Margery, Morgan, Marceline, Madeline, Melina, Mallory, Marisol, Michelle and Maya). "Truth be told, I'm not surprised. He does this an awful lot at my house too. I don't know why Penelope ever let you go, love."

Molly's heart skipped a beat when she noticed that Viola had said my house instead of his home.

"You look better than you did when I last saw you," Viola decided to say, which made Molly bite her lip in her attempt not to sock Marcus' mother in front of him because that was the equivalent of telling Percy that he didn't look like a complete wreck at the moment. "Why do you always look so glum? Why can't you just smile and be happy?" she wrapped a hand around his arm, squeezing it tightly.

Marcus placed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and let himself smile weakly.

"Stop eating so much garbage," Viola shook her head in disapproval. Molly realised that solved another mystery for why Marcus didn't bother eating more, with or without his aching teeth. "Come upstairs with me. I want you to tell me about how I look like in these new robes! Come on."

Marcus trudged along with her and Molly was left feeling relatively defeated. Should she say something?

The minute that Arthur slipped into the kitchen was the minute that she remembered what she was supposed to be doing! Her cheeks coloured in deeply, and she found herself walking towards her husband and placing a hand on his arm. Molly's stomach was knotting as he turned to smile over at her, big bright blue eyes lit up.

"Sweetheart," Molly's voice was a little low, her heart sinking so far into her stomach that she felt like she was this close to vomiting. "We need to talk."

A hesitant look crossed his face. "Molly?" he said in a low voice.

"It's about Percy," Molly's voice was just as low as his was. "He's—well, he's out of the ward. He has been for a while. He's been living with the twins, but he's just not... himself. I'm not sure I understand it as well as Fred and George do, but they've been trying to take care of him and he's-he's coming home. Percy and Fred have a bit of a disagreement and things just spiralled from then on...Bill got involved."

Arthur flinched because Bill getting involved in a row was not a good sign, but then he beamed.

"But Arthur, you can't be here," Molly hated telling him this. "He only said he'd come by if you're not around. I think you might overwhelm him if you..."

Molly tried to smile. It was a weak, pathetic smile. "I'm sorry."

Arthur looked surprised, as if he'd been smacked in the face but then he'd slowly nodded his head. "Alright," he said in a quiet voice. "I'll be around the Burrow, but I'll be as discreet as possible. I'll take it that Percy's using my, um, shed, so I'll be in our room if you ever... need me." His voice was wavering and unsteady.

"I'm so, so sorry, love," Molly said, and Arthur only replied by offering a smile as weak as hers.

Arthur pulled up her chin and then pressed his lips against hers. "I'll be upstairs. Tell him to come in."

PERCY had his arms folded over his puffed out chest. This pose Bill recognised as Percy's 'I know that I'm right and you're wrong' pose.

Bill usually would scoff at this, but in lieu of what happened an hour ago, he knew that he was wrong.

It had been years since he'd last seen Percy and the first thing he'd done was have a row about the fact that Percy hadn't opted to see them despite the fact that he'd been out of the ward for months. Given the fact that he'd nearly torn off Percy's face, Bill couldn't say that he didn't understand why Percy chose not to announce his arrival the minute he'd left the ward. He seemed to have forgotten that they were probably bloody torturing him for years in there. Fred said that Percy was mucked up in the head and that he'd lost his gobstones. It didn't help Bill that Percy's shirt had ridden up slightly, and all that Bill could see were dark collagenous scars and newly formed scabs resting beside his hipbone.

Bill bit down his lower lip as hard as he could. "I'm—"

"Bill, if you apologise one more time and launch into the reasons for why you are not exactly in control of your emotions again, then this time, I will be the one to harm you," Percy warned Bill.

Bill smiled and then placed his hand on Percy's shoulder. "So, you forgive me?"

"I suppose," Percy said, stern expression on his face, and then succumbed to a genuine smile.

"You shouldn't," Bill decided and he meant it. He wouldn't have forgiven Percy if the situations were reversed—at least, he didn't believe so. "Perce, the first time I've seen you in years, and I've nearly torn off your face... after you found out that your girlfriend is knocked up from Fred."

Percy nodded his head. "Don't forget that he called me a lunatic."

"That's not funny," Bill flatly stated in a monotonous tone of voice. "I forgot that you run away from conversations when they get too personal."

In the past few years, Bill had found himself missing Percy, but he didn't know exactly what he missed about Percy the most. He was bland, sarcastic and had a self-esteem that was so low that Bill would need a very good shovel in his quest to unearth it. He tended to deflect any conversation about him, and had an insistence on saying that he was fine, even when he was upstairs, breaking down about the fact that little Scabbers was stuck in between his floor again. Bill could remember the many, many times that a teary-eyed fourteen-year-old Percy would run up to him during the holidays. He'd open his mouth to try and say something. Bill never had any idea of what Percy was going to say because he never said anything. Percy would just swallow the lump in his throat... and then he'd ask Bill to help him with his Charms homework.

"I do not run away when conversations get too personal," Percy huffed indignantly. "Do you really expect me to bear my soul out to anyone, especially—no offense to you, Bill, but just because I forgive you for giving me a whack does not mean that I am going to be telling you anything about me! If I recall correctly, the last person I bore my soul to—and that was Fred—has to demoted me to that bloke that always attempts to snuff himself! Because that'll surely make me realise how precious my life is."

"Perce—" Bill was cut off by a raging Percy.

"STOP! Nobody has any right to tell me what to do anymore. Every time I've went along with someone else's ideas of what I should do, I'm the one that ends up getting the short end of the broom!" Percy had his hands clenched tightly into fists. "Why is it that when I harm myself, it's a crime and when someone else does it to me, I'm expected to forgive them? And I'm ruddy stupid as well! I actually did forgive you! What bollocks!"

Bill could say nothing. What was he supposed to feel regarding this? Angry? Unhappiness? Bill just felt ill and heavy, like he was about to hack up whatever he'd had that day.

"I'm—" Percy paused in his speech. He placed a hand on his cheek. "I'm..."

Bill turned around and noticed a brown-haired woman standing there with a redheaded child standing beside her. Bill thought he'd had a stroke because he was sure that that child looked exactly like Percy when he was a child—well, if Percy had been a chubby little nipper instead of a wand thin bairn.

Percy completely seemed to forget that Bill was there and instead, wandered towards the woman. All anger had melted by then. "Audrey," his voice was so soft it was like he was afraid of harming her with words.

"Fred apparated to the flat and told me everything," Audrey said.

Percy let himself smile slightly. Bill felt like he was intruding and yet, he couldn't will himself to leave. He watched Percy tuck a strand of lone hair behind her ear and then pull up her chin.

"You're not angry?" Audrey sounded surprised.

"I'm absolutely fuming," Percy said in an eerily calm voice. "Yet it is uncouth for me to start yelling to the mother of my child to be. I might've gone completely and utterly bonkers, but I still have some of my manners. I might not use kitchen cutlery for what it's supposed to be used for but it does not mean that I am prepared to degrade you for a measly little justifiable lie. With that being said, all of that goes out the window if I find out that you've been keeping this a secret from me for more than a trimester."

"Percy, if I kept it for more than a trimester, you dolt, you'd be able to see it!" Audrey reminded him, and then paused, cheeks brightening into a dark hue. "Oh, sorry. When I prepared this speech, I definitely didn't plan on calling you a dolt and I certainly didn't—"

He captured her lips into a kiss.

"I don't want to have yet another row with you. We have been apart for years, and you insisted on having a platonic relationship for just about eternity—" Percy was cut off by an irritated Audrey.

"Because you were fifteen," Audrey smiled as she reminded him.

"Because I was fifteen... but being so young, I have to say I had impeccable taste in women," Bill tried not to chuckle seeing that Audrey was getting redder than Percy's hair. She looked to be attempting not to smile. It was actually very heart-warming to see this side of Percy. "Go on inside. I bet that mum's put the kettle on. I can smell the tea from here. I'll take Lucy out with Bill."

What? Him? Out with baby Percy's female replica? Bill's heart was hammering in his chest.

Audrey nodded her head. "I'm sorry, you know. I know I probably shouldn't have done what I've done but I had my reasons and proper reason at that. I—"

Percy placed a finger to her lips. "Audrey, stop. If there is anything you should be apologising for, it's confiscating my wand and making me have to heat up eggs the muggle way."

"I am not apologising for that," Audrey insisted. "You know why I don't give you your wand!"

Percy laughed, shaking his head. "For Salazar's sake... go have some tea!"

Audrey gave up and walked into the Burrow. She gave a quick nod in Bill's direction, and hadn't even stopped to greet him properly. It was like she knew who he was.

Bill found Lucy gawking at him. She probably had been for a while now, but he hadn't noticed. He watched the redhead walk towards him, and it was just then that he probably caught sight of the big blue book in her hands; camouflaged by the robes that she was wearing—the same shade of the book in her arms.

"Blimey, Perce," Bill shook his head. "You never told me you've gotten her knocked up before."

"I did not. Lucy is not my daughter..." Percy replied in irritation. A smile found its way to his face. "Luce, how about we all go to Diagon Alley for a bit of ice-cream? How does that sound?"

Lucy stared at Percy, smirking. "Of course... father."