I don't own Harry Potter
This chapter is semi-filler and character development.
The Journal
Chapter 5
Looking back, Bill had come to realize that Percy skipped family meals a lot. He didn't think much of it before—none of them did—but now Charlie was visiting from Romania for the first time since leaving and Percy was a worrying topic. He looked towards the staircase for any sign of his little brother, but saw and heard nothing.
His mum pulled away from Charlie, looking towards the stairs herself. "I don't know where Percy is… Percy!"
"I'll get him, Mum," Bill interjected. "Charlie can come too." He lowered his voice then. "I'll fill him in on everything."
"When are Ginny and I going to be filled in?" Ron huffed.
"Never. You're too young."
"George, you're only two years older!"
Bill left them behind, their voices getting smaller as he and Charlie clomped upstairs.
"Fill me in on what, Bill?"
"Let's get Percy first, I'll tell you after."
The eldest Weasley stopped in front of Percy's door, knocking steadily on the wood. He waited a moment, and when no answer replied, he knocked again and called out, "Percy?"
Bill opened the door quickly, it bounced against the wall, making a loud banging noise. Percy, fully clothed to Bill's bemusement, squinted at the sudden light coming from the hallway as he lifted his palm to his forehead. The nearly-fifteen-year-old coughed into his hand, a rough, grating clear of the throat. Bill resisted the urge to cough himself as Charlie coughed slightly, ripping his brother's window open.
"God Percy, what the hell is that smell?" Bill grunted. Bill recognized it—some it at least—and he knew Charlie recognized that smell too. The room was hazy with the scent of cigarettes and some other scent that Bill couldn't place—skunky and herby. Percy's school backpack laid opened on the floor, its contents sprawled across the wood planks like vomit—something no one wants to see but can't ignore.
There were multiple notebooks and a carton of Muggle cigarettes (Marlboro was printed on the box) on the wooden flooring; one notebook was sprawled open onto a page full of neat print. Even though it was feet away, Bill could clearly see the words Chapter 6 written at the top. He blinked, processing the fact that Percy wasn't kidding when confided to the journal that he really did like writing. Maybe that was why he read so much.
Bill scooped up the cigarettes off the ground and walked over to the bed, where Percy was rubbing his eyes with the ball of his palms. He held the carton in front of his younger brother, taking note of the red, glazed look to his eyes.
"Dropped something?" Percy blinked at him, hands still poised in front of his face, an inch or two away with his fingers curled lazily. He stood up, grabbing the cigarettes from his older brother and staring him the eye. At fourteen, he was already an inch or two taller than Charlie and roughly the same height as Bill.
When Percy began speaking, Bill noticed two very distinct things. 1.) His voice was raspy, as though he'd smoked way too many of those cigarettes, and 2.) The scent of alcohol was hot and unmistakable as his words left his mouth. His words were breathy and vaguely washed-out, laced with sarcasm and a type of fearlessness he'd never associated with his younger brother.
"Oh, c'mon, Bill. Don't act like you didn't know I smoke." It was true that he did. Despite having only skimmed parts of it, there were other parts that when the words registered, he went back to reread them over and over until he knew them word for word, the smoking being one of them.
I know smoking can kill me. But the cigarette made me feel good. Which I know is bad from a health standard, but I didn't cough or sputter or even gasp for air when I was done. I got told I hold my smoke well, breathing out the air normally and letting the concoction of different drugs and carcinogens spill over my lips. The mix of menthol and ash burned my throat, in a way that I could feel without feeling. The next day I went into the Muggle village, bought a pack of menthol and non-menthol smokes (just to see which I preferred. I preferred the menthol) and a book of some old poems, and I chain-smoked while reading and drinking coffee. And I'd never felt more alive. And I'd never appreciated feeling alive more.
I know smoking can and probably will kill me. Maybe that's why I can't bring myself to stop. I have problems living my life, and dying is the most resonant part of mortality. I'm killing myself, but sometimes you have to die just to feel alive.
The smoke can turn my lungs to ashes, but it makes them feel like gold.
I'm up to about ten cigarettes a day now.
Percy dropped the carton on his desk, scooping up the notebooks off the floor and then pausing in front of his elder brothers, who were watching him with curiosity.
"Well, I'm sure you didn't come up here just to hassle me about the hazards of cigarettes, especially you, Charlie."
"Mom wants you downstairs for breakfast…" Bill paused for a moment, inspecting his brother through narrowed blue eyes. "You probably want to shower first, and brush your teeth."
Percy gave a sarcastic, closed-off smile as he shuffled from his room, glasses still laying ignored on the ground. Bill grabbed them, tossing the frames gently onto Percy's bed before turning to Charlie.
"What did he mean, 'especially you'?"
"I kind of gave him his first cigarette."
"What?"
"It was during winter break when my friends were over. Look, Bill, I wasn't going to give it to him, but he was so serious about it, not even just asking for a cigarette but asking if he could 'bum a smoke.' It was so unlike Percy I didn't quite process it, and then my roommate gave it to him. He seemed kind of upset, anyway, so we figured maybe it'd help," Charlie supplied.
Bill shook his head, unable to believe his kid brothers' antics. "Y-you know what? It's too late. Can't do anything about it. Just… Don't get the others into it or whatever." Charlie grinned.
"Respect for Percy, though," Charlie chuckled. "Marlboros are pretty strong, and the menthol burns my throat."
"You're actually unbelievable."