He was late.
For the love of Merlin, Morgana and Fey, he was a bloody Head-Boy and he was late.
The irrational side of him wanted to blame Wood for this; since his impromptu visit to Percy's compartment, Percy had gotten lost within his own musings and woes, his anxiety spiking up sharply the closer they were getting to Hogwarts. Furthermore, the time passed by faster than he'd anticipated on. He'd jumped to his feet, face contorting with alarm as he recalled where he was supposed to be, and he hurried out in a flash, keeping up a decent pace that was neither a leisurely walk or a jog, trying to maneuver past the students that were crowding the corridor on his way to the Prefect compartment.
Honestly! He mentally berated himself for the slip up. He was supposed to be punctual! He should have made a better effort to keep track of time, rather than lounge around. How was he supposed to show everyone that he was an authoritative figure when he wasn't any better than the students they were to be leading?
McGonagall made a mistake making you Head-Boy
No one else would have done this
Guess Perfect Prefect Percy isn't so perfect, hmm?
He checked his wristwatch, gnawing on his bottom lip with such force that he was mildly surprised he hadn't punctured through it; two minutes, five minutes, nearly ten minutes late.
Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin, his brain was in a wreck. What would they all say when he finally showed up?
He envisioned being interrogated by them; their anger visible and spat out at him like blazes of fire. Or perhaps they would not be so much as angry as they would be annoyed. Perhaps they would make snide remarks, rolling their eyes at the pathetic excuse he gave. Or they might simply ignore him. They might go on with the meeting, blatantly ignoring his presence and focusing on those who had been there from the start whilst he stayed tucked in the corner.
Just like he always was.
Percy almost wished that would occur; it was what he deserved, after all. He deserved to be shouted out, to see disappointment behind their eyes. Deserved to be threatened with getting his badge taken away. Deserved to have one of his fellow Prefects or Heads inform Professor McGonagall of what transpired, where she would shake her head regretfully and he'd see it; he'd see the disappointment. He'd heard her say, bluntly, that she should have made someone else Head-Boy.
That was what he deserved.
But the reality was much worse.
They would ask him what he was doing that tied him up, that's what they do. But it wouldn't be rooted in anger, no, they would be good-natured about it. They would believe that he had some reasonable, noble explanation for his absence because Percy Weasley, the Perfect Prefect always had a reason. He never did anything wrong like his brothers, landing himself in numerous detentions and kept on doing it.
Percy Weasley was a model citizen of the wizarding world. He obeyed the rules, rebuking those that did not and carried an air of importance that some thought meant he would go far.
It was bloody laughable, it was.
Percy Weasley wouldn't be late; he wouldn't be late to anything! He wouldn't miss important information because he was busy drowning in his own sorrows and worries all alone in a compartment when he should've been on his way from interacting with the first years like he and everyone else was instructed to.
But again, you can't even do one simple thing
You can't do what you're told and you can't be on time
What good are you, eh?
No, he realized in defeat, he couldn't.
He stood just outside, far enough to the left side where he couldn't be seen from the windows on the door. It was entirely silly, ridiculously foolish. There he was, Head-Boy and he was apprehensive to face classmates that he'd been going to school with for years.
And they want you to lead the school? Ha!
He contemplated, asking himself whether it was really worth it or not to go in and join. His legs were trembling, dare he say it, and he had a touch of adrenaline surging through his veins that seemed to nearly beg him to turn around and bolt.
He dreaded the moment of pushing open that door, dreaded having to put inevitable attention on himself. Every one of them were going to turn in his direction, their eyes lingering on him, giving him one of those looks. His insides would be churning, feeling as though he'd been doused with icy water. He didn't want to be the focus of the room, nor did he want anyone asking why he hadn't shown up when he should have. That wouldn't be easy to explain or get out of.
And if word got out-he paled.
He knew he was being overly sensitive about the matter, worrying over things that one needn't worry about, overthinking to the point that his earlier feeling of nausea was returning, but he couldn't very well help it.
He didn know how to help it, didn't know of anybody else like him.
That's because you're a freak
It was like a mantra made only for him. He was a freak. People-classmates, enemies, his own bloody family, they all treated him like one and for the longest time he hadn't understood.
He did now.
He did now but it didn't lessen the pain. If anything, it intensified to an intolerable degree.
Bracing himself, Percy rapped his knuckles on the outside of the wall as he pulled open the door. Almost instantly, it was as if the air was taken directly from his lungs: the eyes of his fellow Prefects and this year's Head Girl immediately turned to him. Some were expressing curiosity and others were flashing with annoyance for interrupting.
His stomach dropped, the nausea returning.
Can't give them a few minutes to finish, hmm?
Stop ruining everything
What's the matter with you?
You don't deserve to be Head-Boy
You're no better than the students
It was an eternity before any of them spoke. The conversation that had been flowing came to an abrupt halt upon Percy's appearance. And like a bloody fool, he stood in the entrance way, gripping the side of the door while his brain tried to instruct his flimsy tongue to say something.
Worst of all, they stared at him.
He was sure, in their awful attempt at being discreet, two of the Slytherin Prefects were snickering at his expense.
He only really wanted to run, to get away from there as far as possible.
But he couldn't. That adrenaline was gone now, it had fizzled out. His legs wouldn't take him very far, now. They were unstable, with him wondering how he'd been able to stay upright for this long.
One of the Prefects, a fellow seventh year, broke the silence, having taken mercy on Percy. "Percy," he greeted, clearing his throat beforehand. "It's good to see you. Come, please sit down."
The Prefect was Ivan Renshaw. Ivan was a smart, good-natured bloke. His house was Ravenclaw and he was fairly studious, though never to the same extent that Percy was. Had been. Because he wasn't like that. Not anymore. Like Percy, he wore glasses, though his more resembled Harry's and his hair was a dark brown, kept in a short and shaggy but still presentable state.
Ivan was kind enough. He never flaunted his vast knowledge nor did he stick to his own clique. He made it a point to talk to everyone and since he and Percy had been Prefects together, it wasn't that unusual for Ivan to try and pull Percy (or whomever, really) into some small talk. Percy despised such and typically tried to avoid, coming up with any excuse to get out of it.
More than once, Percy's paranoia kicked in and he wondered, fretted over whether Ivan had caught on or not. Was he aware that Percy did whatever it took not to be around him, especially if it was just the two of them?
Percy held nothing against him, but he certainly didn't fancy being alone with anyone. He wouldn't risk putting himself in an awkward situation that would be replaying in his mind over and over again.
Ivan was one of the leading organizers for the meetings, he took up the responsibility of setting it and any future meetings up, ensuring that everyone had what they needed so it could flow as smoothly as possible.
Really, Percy was eternally grateful. Someone had put it out there, after the last batch of Prefects and Heads were about to graduate, that he be one of the leading organizers. They must have been mistaken, must have been yanking his wand, or perhaps that had been Fred and George's idea of a joke. There was absolutely no reason why he should have been in charge.
They believed him to be worthy, for some strange reason. Thought he was the best out of all of them to take on the job. But Percy knew better. He knew he'd just end up making a mistake and they would all see his incompetence and he didn't think he could bear it for that to happen.
So, quietly and with lowered eyes, he politely declined.
And Ivan was the next nominee.
"Come and sit," Ivan repeated when Percy hadn't moved an inch. It was as if his feet had been stuck to the floor, caught in a bit of goo. He gestured toward the seat that was across from him with an offhand wave.
Percy's eyes flickered.
And his stomach gave a jolt.
That was where Penelope was sitting.
Her legs were crossed, hands folded daintily in her lap as if she were waiting to meet a very important person. Penny's face had started out impassive, then scrunched up into what Percy thought should have been a smile-a friendly, encouraging one-but, really, it came out better resembling a grimince instead.
See, she doesn't even want to see you
Bet she regrets sitting in here now
Now he really wanted to bolt and the guilt began to brew for even thinking such a thing. He couldn't very well blame Penny for what happened, it was all his own fault and would do no good to project his own insecurities on her. She was already uncomfortable by his mere presence, there wasn't any need to make a scene that would surely be unpleasant for the both of them.
Not many of their classmates were aware of their breakup-actually, not many had even known they'd been together, as the two of them were fairly private regarding their relationship. Percy had been adamant against allowing word to get out, knowing that his brothers would hear and then come the inevitable teasing he was supposed to be alright with because surely his brothers didn't mean anything by it.
But maybe, just maybe Percy didn't want to hear the disbelief in their voices.
He didn't want to hear how they didn't think he would ever get a girlfriend or be asked again and again what he did to Penny to make her want him in the first place.
He didn't want to hear how low they thought of him.
Thankfully, Penny had understood. He never told her the intimate worries that kept him from proclaiming his adoration of her on the rooftops, but he'd been half truthful, anyway. He didn't want any gossip, to have any prying ears latch onto them.
When they parted, it was done amicably, despite the circumstances. For that, Percy was also grateful. Relieved that she hadn't stooped low to bad-mouth him to her friends or become hostile within distance of him. She'd handled their breakup maturely, only proving a point as to why he had become drawn to her in the first place-she carried herself well.
Percy knew that Ivan wasn't trying to set them together on purpose; he'd come there late so there wasn't much of a choice, seating wise, unless he gathered up the courage to ask someone if they would be willing to trade spots.
That would never happen.
He'd rather die at the hands of You-Know-Who than to ever do that. Just thinking about it made him cringe inwardly, imagining how incredulous they'd be at his audacity, after not even bothering to come on time, but thinking that he was entitled enough to request any seat he wished.
Someone else from the other Prefect compartment would find out, whether by harmless information sharing or ferocious gossip meant to be known to the entire school by dinner. The humiliation would be intolerable.
"Alright," he murmured and didn't voice his displeasure or give any indication that the voice in his mind was screaming to get away from her. He sat down beside her, keeping his knees together awkwardly, avoiding any and all eye contact with her.
You really are pathetic
He barely kept from flinching.
The compartment was enlarged to fit a total of thirteen people, with the rest elsewhere. Everyone else seemed to be fine, unfazed by the situation. They'd just been listening to Ivan, probably waiting until the appropriate time to break out into friendly chatter, talk about the summer holidays, mention any plans for after school for the seventh years. They would be perfectly content, unaware of how badly Percy was faring.
He could hardly stand it.
Being there, stuck with twelve other people in an enclosed space. It was indescribable, thoroughly vomit inducing. It wasn't as cramped as the Burrow was, not at all akin to Christmas when everyone was home, along with their Great Aunt Muriel. But it wasn't quite so spacious either.
It was just like the platform, which didn't give him any comfort at all. He felt trapped, confined by the walls. He needed air, needed the door to stay open or for someone to push open the window. He inhaled, momentarily biting down on his lower lip.
Just breathe, he told himself, trying not to have his anxiety spike up anymore than it already was. It'll be alright. You're overreacting. Just breathe...
It didn't even occur to him that Ivan was speaking to him, asking some question that completely flew over his head until he felt the jab of Penny's elbow into his side. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw that her face held some unreadable expression.
She hadn't been the only one, either. The rest of the occupants were looking at him again.
They thought he was mental.
He swallowed, feeling his throat tighten at the unwanted attention. He felt...dirty. Felt like he was in desperate need of a shower to scrub away the grime that was embedded into his skin.
"What?" Percy blurted out, his eyes were wide with a near manic gleam to them.
It was abrupt, him coming out of his reverie and back into reality. He blinked. The window's blind was pulled up; the sunlight was hurting his eyes, as if he'd been in complete darkness until a light was shining in his face.
He tried not to squint.
Ivan's own eyes darted to those on his left-Percy's right-and back to Percy. It was meant to be quick, unnoticed. But Percy saw it, he knew the look. Been given that look too many times for him not to know.
"Percy," Ivan sounded uneasy. It caused a sense of dread to fill Percy's stomach because he can only imagine what Ivan was thinking, what he was thinking about doing.
He'd going to take away your badge
He doesn't think you can handle it
He'd going to tell Professor McGonagall that it was a mistake giving it to you
And he's right, isn't he?
It was a mistake
You're a mistake
"Are-are you okay?" Ivan's voice was noticeably softer. Percy despised it. Treating him like he needed tender care. Rubbish. "You're just...erm..." He trailed off, whether because he was trying to uphold some of Percy's dignity or he was really unsure of how to proceed, Percy didn't know.
As kind as Ivan was, comforting wasn't exactly his forte. If he came across a distraught student, he would hastily pass it off to another, more suitable person. It wasn't that he didn't care, he did, and he wanted to make sure that someone who knew what they were doing could deal with it and not make it worse.
It was a relief, honestly. Percy didn't want someone eloquently prodding about his personal life. Didn't want an onslaught of questions. It wasn't like anyone was going to give a rat's bum about his answers, anyway. They would be asked out of politeness, nothing more.
"Of course," he put on the same convincing smile he always wore, that was supposed to convey his genuineness, that was supposed to show how normal and happy he was. "Just tired, is all. The twins kept me up."
More accurately speaking, it was the brooding he'd done over the twins that kept him from sleeping, but in the grand scheme of things, it was close enough.
The twins, he could blame them and it would go over smoothly. It would make sense considering practically everyone at Hogwarts knew how wild those two could be.
You're a horrible brother
Blaming them for your open problems
No wonder they hate you
You deserve it
Understanding crossed Ivan's face-Percy felt a stab of guilt for lying. Ivan would understand; he had dealt with enough of the twins' antics, having docked plenty of points from Gryffindor house and assigned them more detentions than any student should have been given.
He wouldn't be angry at Percy for not listening because he'd just know that it wasn't happening out of boredom; he'd sympathize with Percy, tell him that it was alright, possibly even offer him the chance to go back to his own compartment for some rest before they reached the school.
Because Perfect Percy didn't lie.
Or, that was what everyone believed.
"Didn't sleep much then?" Ivan guessed-another attempt at trying to pull out meaningless conversation out of Percy. He wished he wouldn't. He wished the conversation could end right there so Percy could lean back and fade into the background.
Penny was glancing at him again, distracting him.
"Erm-" Percy blinked dumbly, his brain was trying to pull itself together. "Yes. Too much noise." His voice was lowered to a mumble, it was amazing that anyone had heard it at all.
Ivan was going to say something else, leading Percy to wonder when he would shut up so they could finish the meeting so he could return to his compartment so he didn't have to be there any longer than he had to be.
Too good to be around them, hmm?
No! It's not that, it's-
It's what? Because that's exactly what it sounds like
A voice, bored and mildly annoyed, rang out suddenly, cutting off whatever Ivan had been planning on saying. "If you will, Renshaw," Gemma Farley drawled from her spot in the corner, her sharp eyes lingering on said Prefect, "I do have other things to attend to. I'm sure you and Weasley can finish this elsewhere, yes?"
Her tone held a sense of finality to it, leaving no room for anyone to protest and almost instantly, the light mood vanished and a thick tension loomed in the air.
Look what you did
I didn't mean to-
You didn't mean to? Well, you did!
He didn't dare meet anyone's eyes.
Holding up the meeting, are you? Honestly!
Unacceptable
A good Head-Boy wouldn't do that
A good Head-Boy would be on time
A good Head-Boy wouldn't let the meeting get off track
But, I suppose you aren't a good one
Are you?
Ivan coughed, the kind that was exaggerated a little, the kind that was done to stall momentarily perhaps to dissipate the awkwardness that had settled in. His cheeks were tinging pink-it wasn't often that Percy saw him embarrassed. "Err, right. Right. Sorry. Well, Percy, before you got here, we covered tonight's feast and we'll be moving on unless you have a question?" he looked on over at him, waiting.
The eyes. They were back on him. Merlin, didn't they have anything else to do besides stare? He wasn't some spectacle.
That's rude, the voice was admonishing. Him. Not them.
If it were a person, he was sure he'd be hearing some tittering.
"No," and he was fairly surprised at how steady his voice was. "No. Erm, you can move on."
And Ivan did. Percy was sure he heard Farley muttering under her breath, about how it was good now that they'd received his permission, but he just brushed off the jab. He had no desire to quarrel with her. From what he'd heard and seen, she had a bit of a temper and was quick to unleash it; he'd seen her whipping it out on some poor, fellow Prefects during his fifth year and she really had no qualms about going off on the students either, never mind if they were younger or not.
(Had it not been for Snape being her Head of House, he might have wondered how she'd managed to get the Prefect position).
"Okay," Ivan's voice started out low but cheered up at the end, slightly. He shifted, crossing his legs at the ankle and clasped his hands. "Okay. I'm sure you've all read Professor Dumbledore's letter, yes?
There was a murmur of agreement (with Farley rolling her eyes but that was not acknowledged). Percy didn't look at anyone; he didn't nod nor did he vocalize the truth. He did receive the letter, as it came along with his Head-Boy badge, however, he had yet to open it. He'd been blinded by the news, disheartened at the response he received from his family-or, lack thereof, he supposed.
You didn't deserve any praise
That couldn't have been true. Bill and Charlie-
Are loved
Tell me, when was the last time anyone's hugged you? Told you that they loved you? Anything?
"Percy?" It was Ivan again and yes, now he was definitely sure Farley was making snide remarks about him. Ivan wasn't annoyed like she was, though and Percy wished he was. Wished he was at his wits end, ready to give up rather than looking at him with concern, even pity. "Did you read it or-" he let the question hang in the air.
He could lie. Lie and say that he'd read it. But what if they mentioned something that was included in the air, asked him a question regarding its contents? He'd be caught in the act, stuck with no way out or any sort of justification for why lied in the first place.
Percy was tired of lying.
"No," he admitted quietly. "I, er, never got around to it."
Farley scoffed. Unbeknownst to him, a few of the occupants sent her dirty looks.
"I'm sorry," he swallowed thickly. "I was busy and had quite a lot of homework and-"
"Don't worry about it," Ivan waved it off. "S'not really important, anyway. Just saying that they're gonna keep a lookout on the students this year, you know, because of what happened."
No one needed any clarification.
He was talking about last year.
Last year when your incompetence nearly got Ginny killed
Really great on your part, yeah?
You're just lucky she's alive
"So you didn't miss anything," Ivan shrugged.
He's lying
It matters
He just doesn't want to deal with you
I bet he's mad
Bet he wishes he was in the other compartment
"Oh," Percy hated how his response came out as a whisper.
"Anyway, moving on," Ivan said quickly to avoid another lecture by Farley, "ermmm, we need to keep an eye out on the quidditch field at night if it's possible. Found a few people playing after dark."
Percy had a guess as to who the identity of one of those culprits was.
"Can you make sure Wood is in his dorm, Percy?" Ivan asked., which confirmed Percy's suspicions.
The rest of the sentence, though unsaid, was there. He could feel it, practically hear it: like he's supposed to be.
Because you're supposed to make sure everyone follows the rules
You're supposed to set an example
yet , you can't even make sure your dorm mate follows the rules
Some Head-Boy, you are
"Of course," Percy said, diplomatically.
"We also need to discuss who's going to step after this year."
"Isn't it a little early?" Penny asked-even though Percy wasn't looking at her, he was sure her eyebrows were furrowed. "Term hasn't even started yet."
"A little," Ivan conceded. "But I want to get a head start this year. I've got a few people I think could qualify that I've written down. Figured that we could go over them now, watch their performance this year and vote before we take our exams. Is that's alright with you lot."
It was. There was a unanimous agreement.
"Great," Ivan smiled, taking a look at the papers that were beside him, probably that had a list of topics to cover. Percy's eyes gazed over at them for all of two seconds. "I'd also suggest, in addition to watching over the quidditch field, that we keep an eye on the kitchens as well; caught a few of the younger students heading down after curfew." A mild glint of irritation crossed his face, as if he was reimagining a memory, then it went away as fast as it came.
"Bad experience, Renshaw?" Farley's voice was sugary sweet, feigning sincerity. Percy saw right through it; he didn't have to look her way, he heard the smirk. "Can't handle a couple troublesome first years?"
Ivan refused to take the bait.
"I know what you mean," Penny said, trying to steer them back to the original point. "Caught a few of them myself. Your brothers, too."
Percy realized she was referring to his brothers, most likely of which was the twins.
"Oh," he mumbled.
Didn't they see, see how their behavior was reflecting on him? Percy didn't like this feeling, something that resurfaced often; where he genuinely didn't like their presence, where the mere mention of them brought forth something akin to loathing.
And it made him feel awful, guilty.
He wasn't supposed to feel that way. He wasn't supposed to have such an intense disliking toward his own brothers. They were supposed to love each other, to be there for one another without thinking twice.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.