He skipped out on petrol that night.

That, Percy thought wryly, was terribly ironic. The general consensus of him was of him being too bossy or caring too much about the rules. The students always had something to say when he caught them out of bed, being where they needn't be at that time of the night. Some accepted their fate and the punishment that followed-which is typically no more than a few lost points; still, others resisted, preferring to argue than comply and some simply didn't give much of a reaction at all beyond an expression that conveyed just how unimpressed they were by Percy, adding an eye roll for good measure.

He'd busted out-of-bed students dozens of times before. Now was the time where he was the one that was out of bed, wandering the halls, his hand gliding along the cobblestone. He'd chosen a particular time because he knew that no other Prefect or Professor or Penny were going to be there for him to run into. He also knew that the Astronomy Tower was going to be empty tonight. Students wouldn't be resuming their astronomy lesson until tomorrow evening, where they would be taking lengthy notes. He'd overheard; Ron had complained to both Hermione and Harry that Professor Sinistra was being unreasonable because school just started.

Although, one person-err, painting, he supposed-he had no choice but to encounter the Fat Lady. There was no avoiding her, she was the only way to get in and out of the tower. She'd been less than pleased to be abruptly woken up at such a late hour.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" The Fat Lady demanded once he stepped out of the common room and through the portrait hole. He did, in fact, know. It was after midnight, which was precisely why he chose now to leave. There was no one else roaming about, no one to see him. No one to catch him in the act he was about to commit. Her lips were pursed and she seemed quite irritable; he must have woken her up with his exit. "I would think the Head-Boy, of all people, would know a thing or two about common decency!"

"I apologize," he said, softly. "It won't happen again."

She huffed. "I should hope not."

He skillfully shuffled about through the pitch black, sleepy castle, mindful to keep himself pressed against the wall as he did so. It was too much of a risk to use lumos to brighten up his pathway. It meant that he was going to need to be silent and be very careful about not accidentally making noise or waking some of the other, noisier paintings who would not hesitate to vocalize their sighting of him once dawn was broken and more people were going about.

By then, I'll be gone anyway

He felt a thrill of excitement run down his back.

Percy had a destination in mind. He wasn't just aimlessly wandering. But first, he made a small detour. It was necessary. And so, he climbed the long staircase that led up to the Owlery. Once there, he stepped delicately over the droppings and regurgitated mice that littered the floor. Apparently, Mr. Filch hadn't done a spectacular job of cleaning the place recently. He found Hermes to be at the end of the rows; he'd just come in just as Percy entered. He was watched by the owl's large, yellow eyes and he smiled softly, petting Hermes' feathers gently.

"I've got something for you," he'd said, rummaging through the pocket of his uniform and coming across a handful of treats that he'd brought with him from his.

This was important to him, getting to see his beloved pet one last time before...

Before things changed.

"You're a good owl," he'd whispered as Hermes eagerly ate from his hand. "The best there is, you know."

The owl, of course, did not respond.

"I'm sure someone will take care of you once I'm gone. You'll be taken back to the Burrow where Mum and Dad can use you. Don't worry, you'll be used lots, I'm sure. Mum's always sending and receiving things. Although, do be careful not to take anything from Fred or George, alright? I wouldn't put it past them to slip you something and turn you into a canary."

He almost didn't want to leave. Hermes didn't know what lay ahead. As far as he was aware, as much as an owl could know, his owner was coming back soon. The extra treats he'd eaten weren't some good-bye, but a simple gesture of love. He would've stayed, he would have kept spending time with Hermes, but that was cut short because eventually his owl decided that he didn't want Percy to keep touching him.

Not even your owl wants you

Isn't that pathetic?

After that, Hermes flew off again, back out of the Owlery and into the wind. Percy turned and continued on his journey to the Astronomy Tower. It was dark up there, hardly any lightning at all except for what was natural from nature. He'd never been up there without a reason-class, mainly or Prefect petrol. Some students came there to think or to make out with their boyfriend or girlfriend. In addition to being out of bed, Percy had caught several couples in the middle of a heated make out, dangerously nearing it. It was at that point, he would have to push back the embarrassment he felt and clear his throat to get their attention.

Besides those reasons, he didn't go up there. Funny, how that was and yet this was going to be an integral part of his plan. Perhaps that was why. It was different. It was somewhere unexpected for him to be.

Unexpected. He liked that.

It was better than predictable.

The scenery was beautiful, Hogwarts was a real beauty. It was a clear sky, a rarity and filled with a million or more dazzling stars that seemed to have a sparkle to them. Percy remembered a time when he'd been younger, a mere child before he came of age to begin Hogwarts; he and Bill had laid flat on their backs on the grassy plain on the property of the Burrow, looking up at the sky. Percy could recall feeling fascinated, listening with rapt attention as his older brother pointed out constellations that he'd learned from taking Astronomy.

It felt so long ago, back when life was simpler.

Back when he felt simpler.

Unlike now.

Where everything was crumbling to smithereens around him.

The moonlight shone down on the earth in a bright, silvery shadow that reflected off of the ripply waters of the Black Lake. It was difficult to see from where he was, but he thought he saw a frog or two hopping around and one of the merpeople floating closer to the top of the water, based on the shape of something that looked to be similar to that of a head. But he couldn't be sure of that.

Percy leaned against the railing, his chin dropping to his forearms as made every measure of absorbing what he saw, memorizing its features, for this was going to be the last thing he would ever see.

In his living life, that is.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, to anyone at Hogwarts or in his own home at the Burrow, Percy Weasley was going to die tonight.

It wasn't a conclusion he came to on a whim, a rash decision that he was going to come to regret. It wasn't made by one unfortunate event or other, dictated by raging emotions that he couldn't control. It had been coming along for a while now. It was like a pain, really; it started out as a mere dull ache that he could shove to the side and pretend it wasn't there if he focused hard enough on something else. That method worked well, that is, until over time the pain grew tremendously and he could no longer avoid it. What began as a simple dull ache came to be an excruciating throb.

It was probably a disturbingly casual way to compare something so morbid, even worse if it was spoken out loud. It just goes to show how abnormal you are. He didn't mean to be. Merlin knows that the one thing Percy yearned for the most was to blend in, to be just like everyone else. Normal, happy people weren't like him. They didn't think like him or talk like him and they didn't have to put up a front in the presence of others like he did. They didn't have to do anything at all besides act like themselves, be the best person they could be or some other cliche that parents often told their children.

He wasn't any of that.

If Percy were to be asked to explain his thought process and why he let himself have those thoughts rolling around in his impressionable, vulnerable mind, he wouldn't know how to-honestly. His mind would simply...wander. It was mainly while he had nothing to do, or he was bored, or he lay awake at night. Sometimes it was easy to think about; death, his funeral, what the reaction would be if he suddenly passed away. Sometimes when he was using the knife necessary for cutting materials in Potions, he wondered what if he just plunged it in himself. Or, when he would walk close to the lake, what if he threw himself in there and let the merpeople and whatever other creatures that lived below had their way with him.

And sometimes, the sheer magnitude of his thoughts startled him. Other times, they isolated him.

Contrary to what others would believe, should they ever hear him expressing what he truly felt, he didn't want to die. He may have thought about it, he may have let a hundred and one what ifs cross his mind and his hand might have itched to grab one of Professor Snape's more lethal potions at least once during his school years.

But he didn't actually want to die. It wasn't that death sounded particularly pleasing to him. It wasn't a feeling of utmost desire that he wanted above all else, he just...

He liked to think about it.

Not all of the time. It wasn't like that. It hadn't gone down the line of becoming an obsession. Rather, perhaps a more suitable, clearer clarification was that those thoughts had become a source of comfort and he realized that was probably a confusing statement to make. Nonetheless, it was indeed true. Somewhere along the line, he'd become dependent on them in a strange sort of way. They were consistent when everyone and everything else around him wasn't. They reminded him that in one area, he still held a sense of control.

I have control

I will be in control

It's all mine

It really was a nice night for a last send off. So peaceful. That felt right, as it should have. Perched on a tree, staring straight at Percy with its piercing yellow eyes on a tree that wasn't too far away, was an owl-of one that he assumed didn't belong to any of the students. It hooted, which echoed in the air. He didn't know why he found the owl to be so interesting; after all, he'd been around owls his whole life. Perhaps this was some symbolism he wasn't unaware of, where the owls represented both life and death.

Or, maybe he was overthinking things. Again.

He buried his face in his palms, fingers digging into his hair. He felt so conflicted! Then, the faces of his parents became vividly clear and it made him pause. How would they react to...to this? How would they feel knowing how hard he struggled? Darkness. It was constantly threatened to overtake him. That light at the end of the tunnel, it would keep slipping away. No matter how fast he was, he couldn't get to it.

Would they be regretful that his suffering had gone under their radar? Would they be livid that nothing was done (even though they hadn't done a fair amount themselves)? Would they even be saddened by his demise at all? Well, he conceded inwardly, perhaps they might be. For a little while. The shock of losing one of their children would wear off eventually. They had six others. He wasn't of that much importance then, say, if it were Bill or Ginny. He wasn't precious enough to them. When was the last time they'd given him a genuine hug or a bright beam or a kiss on his forehead by his Mum that he'd craved as a child?

Stop being selfish

You're seventeen, not four

You can't have all the attention on you

Your brothers and sister need it more than you do

But you don't care, do you?

Selfish twat

He knew what he had to do.

He leaned just barely over the railing, staring down at the ground. It was a long way down. The landing would be steep, painful. There would be no coming back from it, unless he miraculously managed to survive with extensive trauma. But he won't let that happen. It was meticulously plotted; the risk of survival was slim already, more so if he went the way he planned on-head first. That would properly ensure irreversible damage that not even Madam Pomfrey or the most brilliant of healers at St. Mungos could fix.

That thought exhilarated him. A small ghost of a smile graced his lips.

He hadn't left behind any note, either. The first time that Percy began having those...thoughts, he'd pictured a detailed drawn up note; he would apologize for all that he'd ever done, proclaiming that was alright that they didn't hold the same level of care for him as he did for them. But tonight, he hadn't done that at all. He didn't think he'd be able to hold a quill, let alone put his thoughts into words.

Now all I've to do is go through with it

So...

This was it, wasn't it? This was how his life was going to come to a halt. Only just seventeen, not even through mid-way of the school year. There would be no graduation ceremony for him. No first job so as he could bring home his first paycheck in hopes of making his Dad proud. No more witnessing his younger siblings growing up and finding their place within the world. No more mornings where his Mum would sit quietly outside with a fresh cup of tea. No more hearing the poorly concealed excitement flowing from his Dad when he was learning about some new muggle contraption. There would be no finding that one special woman to fall in love with. No chance of helping produce children of his own. No more sunshine. No more smells of fresh air. No more sounds of chattering animals. No more constellations.

No more darkness. No more struggling. No more hurting. No more pain. No more wondering. No more wishing. No more what ifs. No more. No more of anything.

It was reassuring. It was like a hug. Like a warm embrace that was going to protect him from his nightmares and worries. Percy couldn't wait.

One foot went up on the bottom of the rail. It creaked, showing its age. He took a shaky deep breath. He was sure. He was doing this. Come on. Don't be a coward. Percy hoisted himself up further, throwing one of his legs over. His heart was hammering and the tears were back brimming in his eyes but they weren't from anguish.

...Joy? Was that what he was feeling right now? He let out something between a sob and a pitiful laugh. Free. He was about to be free. He sniffled, his features levelling out in a grin. An Actual smile as he took in his surroundings. This really was it.

And it was so beautiful to think about.

"Goodbye," he whispered to nothing, exhaling deeply. "I love you all."

He closed his eyes and began to lean forward. He was expecting to feel the wind against his face and momentum pulling him down to the ground.

But no such thing happened.

His heart gave a leap, his stomach a jolt but when he heard a quick shuffling of footsteps and before Percy's fragile mind could fully comprehend that he wasn't falling, he wasn't even on the squeaky railing anymore-it was too late. His school shoes thudded as they came into contact with the floor of the tower and panic mode began to take over him.

Someone had pulled him back.

Someone, whoever it was, had rushed up behind him in a flash. They'd thrown their arms around his midsection, clasping them firmly and yanked him back in one easy pull. Percy was on the thin side, but a tad too tall for a person to do it without outrageous strength. Though, a more telling explanation was that the person was likely running on adrenaline. They made no noise, no grunts or sharp intakes of air to suggest that manhandling Percy had been much of a strain on them. The distance between Percy and the railing was becoming greater, he was moved to the middle of the tower. All the while, his heart was sinking down below to the floor.

No, no, no!

They'd ruined this. They were ruining everything!

"Let go of me!" he howled like a savaged beast.

He didn't care if he was acting undignified or childish. He didn't care that he was making an absurd amount of noise that could've woken the dead. He didn't care. Whoever this was, they'd just ruined everything he'd so carefully planned and he was mad as hell.

He writhed around in their hold on him like a deranged prisoner from Azkaban that was trying to escape from being near a Dementor. He tried kicking his feet and maneuvering his elbows around, hoping to perhaps hit them in the gut or somewhere. That was a thought until they tightened their grip, pinning his arms back behind him to stop him. Percy wailed, reducing himself to helpless sobbing.

He was so close!

So bloody close.

The person released their hold on him momentarily and he sank to the floor. Percy sat there on the floor of the Astronomy Tower, curled in a ball, sobbing inconsolably. "Why didn't you let me die!" he cried. His breathing became frantic; he was choking and struggling to inhale air properly and the world was becoming dimmed, spinning out of control as if the twins were zooming on their brooms around him over and over in a repeated circle.

Spots. He was seeing spots swarming in his vision. They weren't from tears this time. Rather, black ones that were seemingly floating around.

He...he was gonna...

A hand gripped his shoulder. The hold was firm, not near enough to inflict pain, but to merely redirect his attention. Then a voice spoke out, filled with uncertainty and haste.

"Breathe, Weasley. Gently. One at a time."

Percy's brain short-circuited upon hearing the gruff, scottish brogue that could only belong to-

Wood?

What was he doing up at this hour? More importantly, why was he up in the Astronomy Tower? This was supposed to have been a secluded place. He had planned it all so carefully and this happened.

Look at you

You can't even do the one thing that would make everyone else happy

Coward!

This is just an excuse, isn't it?

You couldn't do it and now you have to pin the blame on Wood as a bloody excuse

"You," Percy breathed out. The words he wanted to say-there was much to, at this point-died on his tongue. Why? He had to know. Why did he come? There had to be a reason. Why did he do it? It doesn't make any bloody sense!

He must have looked a sight. So out of sorts for how he typically presented himself. His face was puffy, eyes that were an unsettling shade of red with tears shimmering, nearly overflowing. His voice came out croakily and he couldn't quite lift his eyes further up from where they bore into Wood's scuffed, muddy shoes.

He looked nothing like Perfect Prefect Percy, the know-it-all bookworm that grated on everyone's nerves. The overachiever that was the star example in his classes, who was supposed to get a high profile position and fulfill the steps necessary in life.

Instead.

He was nothing more than Percy, a broken boy who had nothing left inside of him to go on.

The air came to a standstill up and around the tower. Everything had come to a screeching halt. No animals down below were chirping, the owls weren't hooting and Percy almost forgot how to breathe again. How could this have happened? He couldn't figure it out. His hands clawed through his hair, yanking at it. It was so perfect and now-

"H...how?" he whispered, brokenly. "How did you know?"

Because of your incompetence

Because you can't do one simple thing

He stared up at Wood this time, helplessly.

Wood cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as if to stall. He looked haggard, his face which was usually tanned from all the hours he spent soaking up the sunlight to practice Quidditch was strikingly pale. His stare was piercing, like he was able to see inside of Percy's soul. Then, he seemed to remember that he was asked a question. "Oh, erm," It was the most awkward he'd seen the other bloke act. It's because of you. "I was out flying-"

It didn't surprise Percy even a little bit.

"Was trying to get in so Snape wouldn't find me," Wood continued, stumbling over his words at times. "I heard you. The rail. I, erm, I heard the railing. It creaks," he half-way explained to the baffled look that he was given.

It creaked.

It bloody creaked.

Such a small thing that he hadn't accounted for. This plan that he'd gone over was in ruins because the railing had creaked.

You're a failure

A bloody failure

He's laughing at you on the inside

He thinks you're stupid

And he's not wrong

"Oh," Percy's voice was practically inaudible.

Wood glanced around, as if he was seeing the tower for the first time, not like he hadn't just attended astronomy class the other night. It was obvious what he was doing-avoiding Percy's eyes like that. Not as stealthy as he thought he was, that's for sure. He should be insulted, to think that Wood believed he was of so little intelligence not to notice, but he wasn't. It was more of a relief.

"Are you, erm, okay, Weasley?" It took promptly three seconds of the question hanging in the air for Wood to quickly backtrack. "Wow, erm. That was a stupid question. Sorry. Sorry. What I meant was-"

Wood, as Percy came to learn, did not know what he meant. His dormmate babbled on a bit about absolutely nothing. A lot of nonsense, a lot of nervous stuttering. "It's...it's okay," Percy cut in to stop him from blubbering on further. He was wringing his hands and he didn't know if Wood was seeing that or not. "It's fine."

"Right," Wood said and the silence that took over after that was deafening. "Right," he was murmuring to himself and not to Percy.

Percy didn't know how long they'd stayed there. He couldn't bring himself to rise, but he expected that Wood would get tired of being there or have enough of the awkwardness that came with...this and Percy's fluctuating emotions. Who could blame him? Percy couldn't. He'd allow Wood to go unnoticed-pretend that was the case, anyway and hold no grudge against him for it. There would be no hard feelings, no discreet glaring behind his back as if it was some traitorous act.

That wasn't what happened. Wood didn't just leave. He let out a puff of air from his lips and slumped down to sit across from Percy, tucking his feet underneath of him. He didn't speak, nor did he attempt to press and prod Percy for information.

He was just...

There.

It was sometime later when Percy wiped his eyes with the bottom of his hands, dragging himself up. He swallowed, needlessly adjusting his clothes, rubbing at his forearm, sneaking in a glance at Wood to see what he'd do now. He must have been waiting to see what Percy was going to do, cautiously copying the red-head's movements.

It did nothing to ease his nerves.

Wood said nothing when Percy essentially led them back to Gryffindor Tower. He didn't try to force him into going to the Hospital Wing or run off in the direction of Professor McGonagall's or Professor Dumbledore's offices. Percy kept a right eye on him; not wanting him out of his sight, should telling someone be his goal.

Percy's wrist watch was left on the nightstand next to his bed. Because he didn't think he'd need it again. A pang occurred in his stomach. It was well past two in the morning. He should be drowsy, should be ready to crawl into bed and collapse. But he can't. He just can't. Not right now.

He hovered just above his bed, feeling Wood's eyes boring into his back.

Neither one of them ended up sleeping.

Neither knew that the other was staring up at the ceiling of his bed, thinking until the wee hours of the morning.