Having had little luck with his parents, Percy focused all his energy on two things: work and George. He and George had begun falling into a routine; every day Percy departed the office at five and every day by five fifteen he was outside George's room ready to go on a walk.
For a solid week, neither said anything on their walks. They simply took a loop around the hills by the Burrow, shimmering in the summer heat, and returned home. The whole time Percy kept silent, not wanting to push his luck. To his surprise, it was George who spoke first.
"How are Mum and Dad holding up?" he asked.
Percy sighed. "Not well. Mum keeps trying to find things to do to fill her time. She keeps making beef stew and fruit pies that no one feels like eating. Especially now that Ron's gone, there's no one with an appetite big enough to finish everything she makes. And then she keeps starting knitting projects but never finishing them. I tried cleaning the living room last week and the spell I used unraveled one of her projects. She blew up screaming at me, and since then I've left her alone."
"And Dad?"
"Well, Dad's just been sitting in that armchair drinking. He won't do anything, won't go back to work. Barely acknowledges any of us."
"That's a problem." George said. "That's a real problem. Has anyone tried to address that?"
Percy shook his head. "He either doesn't react or he blows up like Mum. When Mum and I were arguing about how I accidentally unraveled her knitting, he snapped at me to get out. I'd never heard him sound like that before. It doesn't make me eager to try to talk to him again, and I'm thinking my energy is better spent on people who don't shout at me."
They plodded along in silence for about a hundred yards before Percy said, "You're drinking too, aren't you?"
"Only a little bit!" said George defensively. "Just some to take the edge off and help me sleep better." When Percy raised a skeptical eyebrow George continued, "Come off it. I'm nowhere near as bad as Dad. I'm on my feet talking like a civilized human, aren't I?"
"Yes, but—"
"Percy." George said firmly. "Leave it alone. You push me too hard and I might start shouting at you too."
"All right." Percy muttered. "All right." George was pretty much the last member of the family who he didn't have a strained relationship with, so he shut his mouth.
They continued in this pattern for a few more days, George asking how Ginny and Harry were, how Charlie was, how Bill and Fleur were and why hadn't they been around, how Ron and Hermione were and had Percy had any letters from them? Percy answered as best he could. Bill and Fleur weren't around very much because the family kept having spats and blowouts. Ron and Hermione didn't write him because they hardly knew him and vice versa. He plodded along sullenly behind George, thinking about his position in the family. So many people around, and yet he was always alone. If only he'd swallowed his pride and come back sooner. If only he'd had time to talk, really talk, with all the members of his family before the battle had begun. Then maybe he'd be on speaking terms with Charlie, he'd actually know Fleur, and he'd have said more than a few sentences to Ron before the latter left for Australia. He'd made so many mistakes and now he repented in the form of a million of these long, sunny walks with George.
Upon returning one day, they found Bill and Fleur in the living room. George took one look and slunk back off to his room, leaving Percy alone in the kitchen. George had that luxury, because he'd just lost his twin brother and the family was willing to make allowances for him. There was no such allowance for Percy, the family punching bag. If Percy ignored Bill and Fleur, he became the asshole that didn't care about his family. He gritted his teeth. "Hi, Bill."
"It's so lovely that they've decided to come for dinner," Molly said as she began straightening the books on the end table in the living room.
Bill leaned back and put his hands in his pockets. "You know, it actually looks nice in here. No more takeaway boxes or empty bottles."
"That's thanks to me." Percy said in a firm, even tone. "I took the initiative to clean the living room."
"And a lot of good it did." Ginny said. Percy hadn't even noticed her standing behind their father. Short people like her had such a creepy ability to hide in plain sight. "You upset Mum. Moved her things without permission."
"I was trying to help."
"Percy." Bill looked at him like he was a child who had scribbled on the wall. "You couldn't even have asked Mum for permission before messing with her things?"
"I—" Percy faltered. Charlie had just entered the room. The two made eye contact, then Percy sighed and left the room.
The family made it through dinner without incident, which was quite an accomplishment considering who was crammed around the table tonight. Both Weasley parents, slightly on edge. Bill and Fleur, who were unaware of what exactly had been going on in the house. Charlie and Percy, who weren't on speaking terms, and Ginny, who pointedly only talked to Bill and Fleur. Percy left the table as soon as was polite and went to his room to read his book.
He went back downstairs hours later. This time he'd gotten to eat his fill, but he'd gotten into this unfortunate habit of coming back down later, after everyone was in bed. At times he'd pass Charlie or George or sometimes both on the stairs, but they all had an unspoken agreement to not bother each other. Tonight, though, Bill and Fleur were sitting at the kitchen table, talking in low tones.
"Somewhere on the gold coast." Bill was saying. "Ron thinks it shouldn't be too much longer. Australia's a big country, but most of it is uninhabited." He broke off when Percy entered.
"Am I interrupting something?" Percy asked in a less-than-polite tone. "You know, no one in this family has given me any updates on our youngest brother Ron since he left the country."
"It's Hermione's parents." Bill said. "You don't even know them. Besides, we were all under the impression that you wouldn't really care."
"Excuse me?"
"Well, you know, between you disowning the family and being so caught up in work even after Fred dies . . ."
"How many times do I have to tell you, work helps me not go insane! Would you rather I stayed home and went insane and took it out on you lot? Besides, I'm leaving the office at five o'clock sharp every day. Ask George." He glared at the two of them. "What are you doing here so late anyway? It's past midnight."
"Well, we were downstairs talking for a long time after you went upstairs. First with Charlie, then Mum, then Dad. Just about various things."
"Dad actually talks to you?" Percy asked. "He doesn't sat anything to anyone here." He opened the cupboard and took out a bottle of Firewhiskey, sipping straight from the bottle.
"Percy!" Bill used the child-drawing-on-the-walls voice. "Other people want to drink from that bottle, you know!"
"Yeah, people like Dad." Percy spat. "He's there in that armchair, drinking Firewhiskey every bloody day! Speaking to no one, not being helpful or functional or normal in any capacity—"
"Shhh! He's asleep just over there in the living room."
"I don't care if he hears me." Percy muttered. "He needs a wake-up call. I'm worried about him. He just . . . he just sits there, all day, telling me he doesn't want to be bothered. Then if I do bother him, he snaps at me. The thing is, I'm not trying to bother him, I'm just trying to talk to him because I'm worried about him."
"You don't remember?" Bill asked. That same tone of voice, reserved for the child who had scribbled on the walls.
"Don't remember what?"
"This isn't unusual for Dad." Bill said. "I guess you're too young to remember, but the first time, when Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon were killed, he was like that too. Mum was worse, of course. But he was quiet and distant too.
"I wasn't even five yet." Percy muttered. "No wonder you remember and I don't."
"But my point is, you need to give Dad some space. You constantly hovering over him and puttering around and trying to help isn't going to solve anything. You need to give him space and he'll come around on his own."
"But that feels wrong, giving him space." Percy said. "He's part of the family too. What do you want me to do, ignore him?"
Bill sighed. "I should have expected this from you, since you don't know how to relax. But you need to cool off. I don't know why you suddenly feel like you have to fix everything—"
"You don't understand." Percy said. "Of course you don't. You're golden boy Bill, who never screwed up. But for imperfect screw-up Percy, ignoring people isn't an option!"
"Well, you need to get over whatever complex you have around that." Bill said. "You need to lay off Dad in order to help keep the peace around here."
"I have to fix things." Percy said. "You wouldn't understand, but I've made so may mistakes. This is how I atone for it. This is how I live with myself."
An awkward silence stretched between them. Finally Bill stood up. "Come on, Dear. It's getting late." Fleur, who Percy had forgotten was still in the room, stood up. They went into the living room and whizzed away through the floo fireplace. Percy stood in the doorway, watching them go. Bill's words were eerily reminiscent of Charlie's, and Percy wondered how long the family expected him to keep quiet, keep his head down and do what he was told, bury his feelings deep inside, just for the sake of keeping the peace.
"It's always something with you, isn't it, Percy?" A voice echoed out of the dark living room.
"What?" Percy grabbed his wand and cast a quick lumos to reveal his father in that armchair. "I thought you were asleep."
"Bill's right. I need space. You need to lay off me."
"How much of that conversation did you overhear?"
"Bits and pieces." Arthur shrugged. "I was pretty out of it. But he's right. You've got some sort of complex, but your feelings do not come at the expense of the whole family's wellbeing."
There were many things Percy wanted to say in reply, particularly how this rule didn't seem to apply to his father, who was allowed to get drunk at everyone else's expense. Instead he said, "Thanks for reminding where I stand in this family, Dad." He turned and went back upstairs, wondering what life would be like if he had his own little cottage by the sea, like Bill did. Far away from all of this.
