Head down ‘til the work is done.

by PrincessAngst

Summary:

“They don’t talk about what Percy did in the War.
He was a Ministry employee. He stayed during the Death-Eater reign. He came back for the final battle. He saved Fred from a falling wall. But that’s it.
He was a traitor to his family, a coward who did nothing during the war but redeemed himself at the end.”
But maybe he did more. Much more.
Percy was a Ministry worker during the War but maybe he was more.
Much more

(Title from Soldier, Fleurie x Tomme Profitt)

Chapter 1

They don’t talk about what Percy did in the War.

He was a Ministry employee. He stayed during the Death-Eater reign. He came back for the final battle. He saved Fred from a falling wall. But that’s it.

He was a traitor to his family, a coward who did nothing during the war but redeemed himself in the end.

He still works at the Ministry, as a low-level employee.

He lives in London but comes every Sunday for the Family lunch alongside his brothers and sister. Sometimes not all his siblings can come. Charlie comes the littlest, him being in Romania most of the year. Bill and Ron were not far behind him. Bill is a father of his own now. And Ron is a Hero, with a capital H: he saved the world with Hermione and Harry. And as a hero, he has duties. But mostly he wants to feel free. But Percy comes every week. He never missed once since he came back, five years ago.

He doesn’t talk much since the end of the war. He makes small talk when he has to. He smiles at the right times and laughs quietly at the jokes. But he does not criticize any of his siblings. He congratulates his family when they achieve something and smiles. He doesn’t talk about his work. He listened to the others. But he stays quiet a lot. And most of his siblings frankly quite liked the change.

He apologized to his father but doesn’t spend a lot of time alone with him. He is mostly by himself and doesn’t go toward the others if he doesn’t have to. Most of the time, people tend to forget he’s even here and he doesn’t do anything to remind them.

He doesn’t eat a lot either. He takes small portions, and he is quickly full. In the beginning, his mom was worried. His father too if he’s honest, even if he didn’t say anything. His siblings mostly didn’t care. The traitor was back, and they took quite a bit of time to accept him back. Except for Charlie and George, strangely. Well, Charlie wasn’t here for the Fight and Percy saved Fred's life, so George is grateful. But even Charlie and George weren’t too worried about how much Percy ate. And now, if he doesn’t eat much, nobody notices.

His hands are shaking slightly all the time. But no one comments. His mom asked once. He looked so sad and simply said: “It was the war”. And it was all. Even when she asked if he had been hurt. He smiled sadly and said: “Many were hurt.” And he let it at that. And no one really questioned it. Mostly they just forgot. It was a new constant in Percy’s life and it faded into the background.

He came to Fred and George's shop multiple times. He went to Romania to see Charlie and his dragons. He visits Bill at least once a month to see his brother, his sister-in-law, and his little niece. He went to see one of his sister's quidditch training sessions. He sat proudly at his little brother Auror's graduation.

And everything was normal.

Until Hermione Granger pulled a Hermione and everything changed.

Chapter 2

It was almost Christmas, so every Weasley siblings and significant other were always at the Burrow. Harry was sitting beside Ron, their hand interlocked whilst they chatted with Fred and George about a new addition to the shop. Bill and Ginny were, loudly, arguing about which Quidditch keeper was the best, and Charlie was playing dragon/dragon keeper with Victoire Weasley. Fleur was helping Molly in the kitchen and Arthur was failing to change the colour of the fairy lights whilst Luna was idly chatting about the new creature, she did saw, which was disrupting the fairy lights, not that Arthur was paying to much attention.

Only Hermione, the girlfriend of both Harry and Ron, and Percy were missing.

Suddenly the fireplace roared to life and a quite dishevelled Hermione Granger got out. Ron looked at his girlfriend and smiled, nudging Harry who in turn smiled at their girlfriend. She smiled at them and then looked around. And she suddenly asked :

“Is Percy here ?”.

Fred turned his head and said :

“No, he'll be here tomorrow”.

Hermione frowned and said :

“I see, thanks.”

“Why did you want to know that?” asked Ron.

“Oh, I met with someone at the Ministry today and they told me something odd that’s all.”

“Odd? Like what?”, asked George.

“She wanted me to thank Percy for everything he did for her and her family. And she said I must be really proud of him.”

“Proud of him? What is this supposed to mean ?” asked Fred, surprised.

“I really don’t know. Maybe he helped her in the Ministry somehow” replied Hermione.

Suddenly there was a loud clatter, and everyone turned to discover Victoire sitting on Charlie's stomach, giggling in her high-pitched voice, Charlie lying on his back, laughing as well.

Everyone started laughing and the conversation was forgotten. Then Molly called everyone to sit, and the group rushed to the dining room, thee table filled with literal moutains of foods. Ron and Harry quickly kissed sweetly Hermione on the lips, and she sat between them. Next to Harry Bill sat and Fleur sat next to him, putting Baby Victoire on her lap. In front of them sat George and Fred. Luna and Ginny sat next to Fred and Charlie next to George. Luna softly kissed Ginny, the redhead's hand on the small of her lover's back, whilst she explained to Fleur and Victoire something about flowers. Molly and Arthur sat at the end of the table and the group quickly dissolved into different conversations, whilst enjoying Molly's cooking. The dinner and the evening passed uneventfully, the earlier odd conversation with Hermione completely forgotten.

The next day, Percy arrived for dinner, his Ministry robes floating a bit around him. He was quickly enguffed in a hug by his mom and he wrapped his trembling hands tightly around her back. His dad smiled faintly at him, and he smiled back, with his always sad look. Charlie and George clapped him on the back and the rest of his sibling waved him hello. Then Molly ushered all of them to the table.

During the dinner, Arthur asked Percy, as always :

“How is work ?”

“Fine. The Ministry is always the same”, Percy quickly replied.

“So boring as ever. It must be fun for you Perce”, retorted Fred.

A strange look flickered across his face, but he quickly scolded his features and nodded. The interaction was the same as usual, but it reminded Hermione of the strange conversation she had had the day before and she wondered suddenly:

"Percy, do you know a Martha Simmons?"

He turned his head sharply in her direction, dread painting his features, and he blurted:

“What did she say?”

“Huh? Nothing, just to say thank you.”

His demeanour visibly relaxed and he said softly :

“Oh. Well. That good I guess.”

“Oh, and she also said I must be really proud of you of something like that.” added Hermione.

“Oh, well some people are like that when you help them, I guess” replied softly Percy, not meeting her eyes.

“What did you do for her?” asked Hermione.

“Nothing important, something administrative”, he quickly replied before returning looking at his plate.

Fred hummed and said:

“Yeah well, administration is your specialty after all”.

Everyone laughed at Fred's statement. Except for Percy, who spent the rest of the night pushing food around on his plate, unable to stomach a single bite. And no one noticed. 

By the end of the night, everybody had forgotten again the conversation about that Martha Simmons and Percy hoped it would stay that way. But when Hermione Granger is involved in something, you can be sure that whatever secret there is, she would find it.

And she did find it. 

Chapter 3

Even though Percy said it was nothing, her conversation with Martha Simmons still puzzled Hermione. So, when she spotted Martha in the Ministry corridors on her way out of the Magical Prosecutor's office two days later, she called out to her.

"Ms. Simmons? I'd like to talk to you."

Martha Simmons turned her head and approached Hermione. Martha was a young woman with short blond hair, a little bushier on top, and big blue eyes. She asked, looking a little confused and uneasy:

"Yes of course Ms. Granger, what about?"

"About Percy Weasley.

On hearing this, her face brightened, and she replied:

"Mr Weasley? Ah, what an exceptional man! You're very lucky to know him."

Hermione was a little taken by surprise. Percy had probably helped her with an administrative problem but to say that he was an exceptional man was a step too far.

"That's just it. I didn't quite understand your remark the first time. Why exactly should I be proud of him?"

"Well, for what he did in the war, of course," Martha replied as if it was obvious.

"What he did in the War?" asked a surprised Hermione.

"Well, yes. What he did for Muggle-borns."

"What he did for Muggle-borns," repeated Hermione like a deranged parrot.

"Well yes," replied Martha a little impatient and destabilized "the false papers he made».

"What false papers?" asked Hermione, who understood nothing of this surreal conversation.

"Well, the false papers he made so that Muggle-borns could escape from the Death Eaters and leave the country during the war", replied Martha, her voice taking an upset tone.

"He did what?" gasped Hermione bewildered.

“He made false paper for Muggle-borns during the War?” answered Martha taken aback.

“He…” Hermione didn’t know what to say. She had the impression of having fallen into an alternative dimension where all this made sense, a sense she couldn't begin to understand.

“You knew he helped Muggle-borns during the War, did you ?” stressed Martha.

“No.” admitted Hermione.

“You didn’t know ?” asked Martha taken aback “But he helped so many…” she wondered.

“How many ?” asked Hermione

“For what we know, at least a hundred and twenty people”.

Hermione looked at her like she had suddenly grown three more heads. Martha explained :

“You see, we have an association with the victims of War and in this association, we have regrouped every person who was saved by Mr Weasley. You see, when I came back to England, I wanted to find the person who helped me escaped. And then I met with other people who were saved by the same person. Because we received letter with our new papers and the letter was always signed by Odysseus. We created an association and after a year and a half we had gathered 120 people who were saved by Odysseus. And two months ago, Alicia, one of the members of the association needed help at the Ministry and she went to seen Mr Weasley and she instantly recognised his writing.”

Hermione was feeling like she was in a dream, and she would wake up.

“You never forget the writing of the person who saved your life with a letter and false papers”, explained Martha, “But we are sure there is more people”, she added.

Hermione could not speak. Not after hearing everything she heard.

“You could come to one of the meetings if you want” added Martha “We have the next meeting the day after tomorrow. It’s the 20th of each month in the Ancient Magical Hall of the Castle of Edinburgh, we didn’t find a place big enough for it in London.” She explained.

Hemione agreed, not really realizing what she was saying or what was happening. She couldn’t begin to explain how she felt right now.

Martha left and Hermione took a few more minutes to compose herself and she took the direction of the Floo points. She could not stay here, knowing what she now knew. She was done with her day anyway, but she needed to leave, to go to her boyfriends, to a sense of normalty she seems to have lost in the last few minutes.

She stopped in front of one of the large chimney, took a handful of the green powder, throw it in the fire, and said :

“The Burrow”.

Chapter 4

Notes:

Ok, shorter chapter this time, it's more of a transition chapter but it shows more the Ron/Harry/Hermione poly relationship and it was so cute that I wanted to focus more on it.
And don't worry, angst will come back soon

She stepped out of the chimney and was met with the sight of her boyfriends cuddling on the couch. Ron turned his head and greeted her with a smile:

“Hemione, love.”

She smiled back but her smile was so faint that Ron frowned :

“You look like you saw a boggard. Everything’s fine love ?”.

She nodded and then immediately after shook her head. Ron got up immediately, followed by Harry and both her boyfriends enguffed her into a warm and comforting hug.

“You want to talk about it ?” asked Ron.

“Or is it more like just a bad day and you want cuddles ?” asked Harry, smiling. You would think that the Savior of the Wizarding World would be a cold, serious guy, but Harry was craving affection and cuddling. Sue him, his aunt and uncle made sure he didn’t feel deserving of love his whole childhood so he felt, and rightly so, entitled to some love, care, and affection.

Hermione smiled and snuggled more into the embrace of her boyfriends. She did want to talk about it but she felt like she could not yet, not until she was sure it was the truth. So she mumbled :

“Just cuddles for now please. And hot cocoa”. She added with a smile.

Harry beamed and wrapped himself more tightly around his girlfriend, like some sort of giant koala, not unlike the one she saw during her trip in Australia to find her parents. And Ron literally flew to the kitchen to make hot cocoa. Of all Molly’s children, Ron was probably the one who resembled her the most. He loved feeding the people he loved and was very much a mother hen. And having two partners who both needed his constant attention, Hermione because she got lost in her head so often and Harry because he'd never really had any affection until he met him in the Hogwarts train, was the best thing for Ron.

Ron came back with three mugs of hot cocoa and a tray full of mince pies and Christmas shortbread and set them down on the coffee table. Harry and Hermione were already cuddling on the couch, and he joined them, grabbing the quill and pulling it on top of his partners, Hermione in the middle.

They ate and drank chatting about Ron's useless Auror partner and Harry's job in the orphanage and the cute antics of the children. Hermione didn’t want to think of her own job tonight, because, as much as she loved her job as Substitute to the Magical Prosecutor, tonight it only reminded her of her conversation with Martha Simmons. A conversation she was trying to forget by listening to Ron’s rant about Sam Powell’s inability to do his job as an Auror correctly and Harry's happy chat about little Lizzie and her kneazle pet.

During their chat, the night fell completely, and the Burrow started to fill. First Bill, Fleur and Victoire arrived, soon joined by Charlie, then Fred and George, Ginny, and Luna, and finally Percy. He entered the house silently and smiled at those who saw him but didn’t take part in the lively discussion with the other 13 members of the family.

And whistle Hermione was trying to forget what Martha Simmons said to her a few hours prior, she could not take her eyes off Percy Weasley, trying to reconcile the cowardly, Ministry-following, power-hungry Weasley with the, apparently, hero of the War, a resistance fighter under Death Eater rule.

By the end of the dinner, while everyone was scattered across the living room, Hermione silently resolved to go to the meeting of this association of Muggle-born survivors of the war. Just to be sure. And if Percy was indeed the hero Martha thought of him, the other Weasleys had a right to know. But if it was not true, she would not subject the family of one of her boyfriends to such an emotional rollercoaster.

Chapter 5

Two days later, Hermione went to the meeting. She said to Harry and Ron she had a meeting to attend but didn’t add much on the subject. She could not yet say to her boyfriends what the meeting was about. Not before being sure of what Percy did.

She used the Ministry floo and arrived in front of the Castle and surely, she saw dozens of people, all dressed in Muggle clothes, many wore colourful jumpers in the colour of Christmas. A voice behind her startled her and she turned to face Martha:

"You made it after all," Martha said with a smile and Hermione nodded.

Martha motioned for her to follow her and they walked towards the castle wall. As if entering Diagon Alley, Martha tapped the wall with her wand and the stones and bricks rearranged themselves to make way for a dark wooden door.

Martha pushed open the door and Hermione entered a huge, high-ceilinged hall, and chairs stacked at the back of the hall moved out and arranged themselves in rows, leaving a central aisle.

By 7.30 pm the hall was packed and everyone was seated.

Martha introduced Hermione to the assembly, who cheered loudly, and she felt herself blush. She may be part of the Golden Trio and have been given an Order of Merlin, but she didn't like this sudden attention. She liked people listening to her or praising her accomplishments, but she didn't like being paraded around like a prized trophy.

The applause soon died down and the meeting finally began. For an hour, dozens of people came forward, telling their stories, their suffering during the war, and for some the losses their families had suffered simply because of their Muggle-born status. The audience was comprehensive, giving those who broke down in the middle of their speech time to recover. And many spoke of their escape, of the false papers they were given.

Hermione noticed after the fourth testimony that the certificates they had been given were sufficient for them to remain safely in the UK, but that many had chosen to leave and take their families with them.

And Hermione thought bitterly of her parents whom she had obliviated and sent to Australia. Parents she had spent 6 months looking for, without the comfort of her two companions who were too busy with their respective obligations and whose help she had refused anyway. She thought of her parents, who had been angry with her for too many long weeks, who had been angry with her for having manipulated them in such a way. Even if they were mainly angry at her for having been forced to live in danger for a year and for them to have been completely unaware of the situation. And then she wondered, if she had been anonymous, a simple person in this war, if she wouldn't have wished, even dreamt, of such proverbial help.

Percy had saved dozens of people. More than that, in fact. By helping these Muggle-borns to flee, he had helped their Muggle and Half-Blood families escape the Death Eaters' hunt.

But even with these testimonies and the fact that these people had all been saved in the same way, which completely ruled out the possibility of a coincidence, Hermione was not entirely convinced that it was really Percy.

So, as always, she did some research. She spent the next three months scouring the Ministry's archives for these certificates. Looking for registers and other evidence linking these achievements to Percy Weasley.

And after three months of searching, she had to face the evidence. Percy had saved all those people. And nobody in his family knew anything about it.

Chapter 6

It was time for Hermione to finally come clean. To tell her boyfriends the truth about her long nights at the Ministry. And it was finally time for the Weasley family to know the truth about their third son.

After spending three months researching she was ready to explain everything to the Weasley and Martha had even agreed to let the whole Weasley family to come to the meetings. She had made sure that Charlie had came back in England before announcing her news.

When she entered the Burrow with her boyfriends, she was assaulted by the joyous ruckus and she knew she would soon put a damper to the joyous mood, but hoped against all hope that the Weasley family would keep the good mood going even after hearing the news.

Bill and his family and Charlie were already here, Charlie was sat on the loveseat and was chatting with the twins. Percy and Ginny where late, Ginny always lost track of time and Percy never came more that was strictly necessary. Before Christmas, Hermione had wondered if Percy was still wrongfully resentful of his family and their estrangement during the war, but since her recent discoveries, she was now wondering whether Percy wasn't so distant from his family due to the accusations made by his father and siblings during their fight. Accusations which, she now knew, were not only baseless, but also untrue, as Percy had worked to protect Muggles even before the reign of terror of the Death-Eaters.

She chatted with the twins and then answered Arthur’s question about the new Muugle contraption he found, a Walkman. But her mind was not in it. She couldn't stop thinking about what she would announce later and suddenly wondered whether announcing her discoveries out of the blue was a good or a bad idea. After all, if Percy hadn't mentioned it, there was a reason for that. Arthur noticed something was off, and for a man as unobservant as Arthur to notice, she must have been seriously distracted.

"Are you all right, Hermione? You seem preoccupied," asked Arthur.

Harry turned his head towards his girlfriend and frowned. He had noticed that something was wrong with his girlfriend for several weeks now but she regularly worked on quite traumatic cases and some of them sometimes preoccupied her all day before they went to trial. But today, she seemed to be distracted but not emotionally devastated when cases took a tragic turn. And that was different.

He nudged Ron, who turned around, one eyebrow raised and a questioning look on his face. Harry breathed softly:

"Hermione's weird."

"Weird how?"

"She's distracted."

"On a case probably."

"No, it's not like usual. She almost looks guilty" Harry muttered.

Harry didn't give that impression but he was terribly observant. And his analysis of non-verbal language was often on point. Ron and Hermione didn’t want to think as why he was so good at analyzing human behaviour. The inhuman treatment he had received as a child had trained him terribly well in this analysis and the mere thought of what their lover had gone through would make Ron and Hermione’s blood boil.

Ron looked at his girlfriend and was forced to admit that Harry was right. She wasn't her usual self. And he blamed himself for not noticing.

He walked over to his girlfriend and asked:

"What's going on love?".

She turned her head sharply towards him and he suddenly saw the twinkle of guilt in her eyes. As if she had done something she shouldn't have.

She fidgeted with her hands trying to find an answer just as Ginny and Luna entered the room. Hermione looked at her boyfriend, then Arthur and then her feet, a bit like a kicked puppy.

Ginny, who was greeting everyone, then approached Hermione and asked:

"Why the long face? What happened?"

Hermione sighed and then said :

"There's something I need to talk to you about. And it's important."

"Important how?" Ron replied the same time Arthur asked "What's it about?"

"Percy," muttered Hermoine. And at the same moment, the fireplace roared to life and Percy step out of the green flames into the drawing room.

Chapter 7

“What about Percy?” Arthur asked.

"Well..." began Hermione in an uncertain voice before pausing abruptly when she saw that Percy, the person directly concerned, staring at her.

She cleared her throat, the feeling of guilt returning in full force.

"What about it? What about Percy?" insisted Arthur, who couldn't help but have a terrible gut feeling. Hermione was influential at the Ministry as the Deputy Magical Prosecutor, but her work never overlapped Percy's. So whatever would make her look like this must be terrible.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, only to close it again immediately and open it again the very next moment. She looked a bit like a fish out of water. Everyone started staring at her, but she could only see Percy.

"Hermione? What's going on?" asked Ron.

"I..." stammered the young witch, suddenly realizing there were other people in the room. “I… It’s…” stammered Hermione, who seemed to find herself for the first time in her life at a complete loss for words.

Percy, the main subject of this conversation which hadn't really begun, continued to stare at Hermione, like he was seeing in a tunnel. Ever since she'd mentioned Martha Simmons' name at Christmas, he'd been on edge with her. During his years at Hogwarts, he'd learned to be wary of Hermione. One must always be wary of stubborn, extremely intelligent people with a tendency to follow the most dangerous and risky leads and who never leave a secret untold.

And Hermione was probably the most intelligent and stubborn person he'd ever met, and he'd known several Ravenclaws during his years at Hogwarts.

Ron, Arthur and now Ginny were questioning Hermione, who was looking desperately at Percy with so much guilt it was almost painful.

And then, finally, she seemed to resolve herself and gave Percy a terribly sorry look and uttered the sentence that began the end of Percy's life:

"It's about what Percy did during the war".

Instantly all eyes turned to Hermione and Percy turned white, the blood leaving his face.

She could not know. She could not have known.

"And what he did for the Muggleborns."

Percy felt as if the ground were shifting beneath his feet.

She had no right to do that. She couldn't know. No one was supposed to know.

"What did he do for the Muggles?" asked Bill.

"He forged false papers to help them escape the Death-Eaters. He saved almost two hun-“ Hermoine began but Percy interrupted her, in a hoarse voice :

" Shut the hell up Hermione."

"Hey!" interjected Ron, glaring at his brother, almost instinctivly.  No one talked to his girlfriend like that.

"Don't say another word Hermione. Not a single bloody word. Don’t you dare.", continued Percy in a hoarse voice

"Percy, I…”, stammered Hermione

"Not a word, Hermione. You were never supposed to get involved. You had no right… You had no right to… to…", he started to choke on his words.

“I… I didn’t…” stammered Hermione, suddenly forgetting everyone else in the room but Percy.

“It was my life. You had no right. I… I was… I never wanted… I…” croaked Percy, his voice shaking more and more.

Everyone was silent, looking between Percy and Hermione, completely bewildered. Percy was as pale as a ghost, his hands were shaking a lot more than usual and Hermione looked devastated. Percy then looked at everyone in the room, and his blue eyes were clouded with so much anguish and sorrow.

And then he said :

“I didn’t want anyone to know”

And with that he disapparated with a crack that echoed through the silent room.

And then Hermione murmured:

"Oh god I screwed up."

Chapter 8

The room was completely silent, all eyes fixed on the spot where Percy had been standing only a few seconds ago. Then suddenly Fred blurted :

“What the fuck just happened ?”.

And oh, how that exclamation vocalised the feelings of everyone in the room, except perhaps Victoire and Luna, one too young to understand, the other deeply empathetic but hidden behind her inner walls, her creatures and her universe to be really affected by such exclamations.

And Hermione wished she could have answered something, but what could she say except, "It's my fault"?

And then, as if Fred's exclamation had brought everyone back to the reality they had all left behind while witnessing Percy and Hermione's altercation, Charlie asked:

"Wait a minute Hermione, what did you mean when you said Percy helped Muggleborns during the war?"

Hermione turned to the second-born Weasley and sighed before murmuring:

"Exactly that. He made false papers during the war for the Muggles."

Everyone looked at her in surprise. Molly perhaps less than the others. She knew her son: he had always been brave as a child, maybe not has reckless as the others but he had always be her brave little boy, always looking after his little siblings during the first war, in the simple ways a toddler do, but with so much heart. Oh yes, his siblings didn’t always liked how he kept being a sticker for the rules even after the war ended, but maybe people didn’t realised that child the age of Percy were old enough to understand something terrible was happening but not old enough to understand that the danger had disappeared just like that. And maybe the Wizarding world should have tought more of the children of the war, even those who were not hurt. Dealing with post-traumatic stress was not an issue to which witches and wizards attached any real importance. And on this point, Muggles were no better off than them. After all, neither the wizarding nor the muggle world would consider mental health to be as important as physical health.

Fred asked incredulously: "Forged papers? Percy?" at the same time Bill asked, "How many did he do?"

Hermione sighed. She realised now that telling the Weasleys about this discovery without talking to Percy first was a bad idea. But she was still a Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat had made no mistake: she rushed into things without always taking the time to think about the conclusions. And although she was 20 years old and an influential member of the Ministry, she still hadn't managed to shake off the traces of her impulsiveness that remained, even after the end of the war.

But Percy had been clear. She was not to tell anything to anyone.

However, if it was difficult to resist the demands of one Weasley, as they could be very stubborn, refusing the demands of 8 Weasleys was almost an impossible feat.

She was torn between her desire to respect Percy's wishes, whose look of distress haunted her, and giving in to the demands of the 8 Weasleys who were looking at her impatiently.

Finally she gave in. And she explained. The more she spoke, the more guilt gnawed at her, but she had started to explain what was happening, and even though Percy had asked her not to say anything, she couldn't stop. It was as if her discoveries of the last three months had been waiting for this moment to spill out of Hermione's mouth.

She explained how Percy had started forging papers as soon as Voldemort attacked the Ministry. That he had made sure that Muggle-borns were related, in one way or another, to Half-Bloods or pure-blood families who were considered by the Death-Eaters as blood traitors. How he always sent the false papers by Muggle letter, to make sure they weren't traced. How he had tampered with the Ministry's archives. How the forged papers had been forged up until February 1998 before coming to an abrupt halt after 22 February 1998. How Martha Simmons had formed her association. And how many were in it. And how many Percy had actually saved, according to the Ministry's records.

The more she spoke, the more everyone's faces shifted. First there was incomprehension, then there was disbelief, and finally acceptance laced with horror.

When she finished, the room fell silent. All the Weasleys looked at her with wide eyes and mouths half open. Finally Ron broke the silence and asked, in a slightly trembling voice:

“He saved 184 people alone?”

And Hermione nodded, unable to say anything else, as if she had used up all the words she had.

And Ron replied: “Well fuck.”

And even Molly Weasley didn't think to correct him.

Because Ron was right.

Percy saved 184 people during the war, and they didn’t knew anything about it.

And the worst in all that? They all thought he was a coward.

And then, there was guilt.

Chapter 9

Summary:

Percy POV for this chapter

Notes:

TW : Panic attack, Suicidal thoughts.

Important Note : this Chapter is Percy's POV after the confrontation with Hermione/his family. If any of the subjects mentioned in the trigger warning list is too distressing for you, you can skip this chapter, any information in it will be revealed again later.

Percy was shaking, tears welling up in his eyes.

He could not breathe. He could not breathe.

Why did she said that ? Why did she said anything ?

He could not breathe, his hands were shaking.

His hands shook.

Why did she told my family ?

His heart felt like it was going to stop.

Tears were running in his cheeks.

Why did she told my family ? Why ?

He was to hot.

He was too cold.

Why did she said that? She had no right.

He was not breathing.

He was breathing too much.

She had no right. She had no right.

He was crying. Or maybe not.

His chest felt like fire.

She had no right. No one was supposed to know.

His legs felt weak.

He was on the floor. He was not breathing.

No one was supposed to know. It wasn’t what I wanted.

He was seeing black spots.

His vision was fuzzy. He was seeing in a tunnel.

It should not have happened. It was not supposed to happened.

His chest hurt so much. Like someone was carving his heart out with a knife.

His lungs were burning. Air was too much.

They were never supposed to find out.

He was too cold, like he was dying.

He was too hot, like his body was burning.

No one had to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.

He felt like dying.

He was dying.

Maybe I’m dying.

His chest felt like it would collapsed.

His heart felt like it would stop.

Maybe I should have died.

He was not really seeing.

He wanted to vomit.

It would have been better if I died.

He tasted blood in is mouth.

He was shaking ?

Why didn’t I die ?

Air felt like fire.

His eyes burned.

I should have died. I should be dead.

He was retching. But nothing was coming out.

His heart hurt. His eyes burned. His chest was collapsing. His hands were shaking. His legs were weak.

I want to die.

He was lying in the floor. He wanted to scream but no sound would come out of his mouth.

He was shaking. His eyes burned. His chest was collapsing. His heart had stopped. He tasted copper. Air was burning. He was hurting.

Penny.

He could only think of Penny.

She would know how to stop the pain. She always knew.

I should move.

Maybe he was.

He hurt so much.

He was crying.

He was dying.

He wanted to die.

He wanted the pain to stop.

He wanted Penny.

You should not apparate idiot. It sounded like Penny.

He wanted Penny.

He wanted.

He wanted.

He wanted.

I want to stop hurting.

He wanted.

He wanted to die.

He wanted to feel alive again.

I want Penny.

He wanted to feel right.

He wanted.

He.

Chapter 10

Notes:

Back to the Weasley family POV

Everyone in the drawing room of the Burrow was silent. They all felt consumed by guilt, some more than others. Only Luna and Victoire were not. The former because she had always liked the Prefect, who helped her find her things when people would steal them from her at Hogwarts. The second is because she was four years old and would only think of Percy as the uncle she saw once a month at home and always came with a little bundle of chocolate for her.

Fred and George were perhaps the ones who felt most guilty. Arthur was not far behind. The three of them still remembered the fight at the dawn of the war. The fight after which Percy had left.

Arthur still remembered how he had told his son that his promotion was a way to spy on Dumbeldore. How he had thought during the years of the war that his third son had betrayed them. Now he had proof that his son had risked a lot during the war. That he was a hero. And he'd thought he'd let his ambition get the better of him. That he'd thought he was too much of a coward to fight. And he now hated himself for thinking that is son, was anything else than a brave man.

Fred and George thought of the way they had treated Percy that famous Christmas. where he had gone. The food they had thrown in his face. Prat they had said. Moron they had added. Stupid arsehole they'd called him. Coward they'd concluded when he'd gone. Coward. That word was burning their consciences now. They had called him a coward and he had fought against the reign of the Death Eaters right under their noses, in the very heart of the Ministry. Where he was probably risking his life with every new forgery. Fred suddenly felt nauseous. He remembered what he had said to Percy before the final battle: "Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron". He felt so bad now. Because he now had proof that not only was his brother not a coward, but he wasn't a ministry-loving moron or a power-hungry moron either. He had saved 183 people for Pete sake.

All Bill could think about was his little brother. He had been present at that Christmas dinner. He still remembered the screams and the food that his younger siblings had thrown at the former Prefect. How he'd hated him for breaking up the family. How he'd resented him for not trying to get back into the family before. He hadn't even come to his and Fleur's wedding. He only came back into the family at the end of the war. And he felt so bad now for hating his little brother. Who had probably risked a lot to betray the Death Eaters within the Ministry. And he felt so bad that he'd seen him as a coward when he'd probably been braver than their whole family all together.

Ron couldn't really understand what had just happened. What his girlfriend had just told them. Prat Percy, the Perfect Prefect, was not a coward. He had fought the entire war against the Ministry. He just couldn't make sense of it all. He'd resented him longer than anyone else, probably because of the letter he'd received in fifth year telling him to stay away from Harry, that he was delusional. Even after Percy had apologised to Harry, Ron still harboured a grudge against his older brother that had faded only a year earlier. The resentment he had held for years now seemed to be melting under the weight of Hermione's revelations. Because his older brother wasn't an idiot, nor a coward, nor a moron or even an arse. He was a hero. And this revelation broke him. Because he had hated him for being a coward, which he never was.

Ginny felt terrible that she had once hated her brother, that she had called him names when he had left, breaking up the family when she was only fourteen. He had never been the cowardly big brother she had hated, but a hero. And at the age of nineteen she now realised just how much of a hero her big brother had been.

Molly wanted to cry. She knew, she had always known, that her son could not have been a traitor, a supporter of the Death Eaters. And now she had proof that he was a hero. But she didn't fight for him when the rest of the family started talking badly about him.

Charlie hadn't been around during the Fight. He'd never hated his brother, but he'd never been close to him. Percy had reproached him for going to Romania, to the Dragons' reserve. But he had written to him anyway, after the first few months, apologizing, saying he was just sad to see him go. And then, after the fight, Percy had stopped. And Charlie hadn't insisted. He was now slapping himself in the face. He should have talked to him. He shouldn't have ignored the fact that his brother was a hero.

Hermione hated herself for even mentioning it, Percy's face still haunting her. But she couldn't shake the relief that announcing her discovery had brought her.

Harry still felt a little bad about thinking ill of the Prefect, but he wasn't wracked with guilt like others. He had spent the last few years wracked by the pain and guilt of losing those closest to him. And Percy had apologised. He was just glad to know that Percy had been a hero.

The silence lingered in the room. And then suddenly Luna's dreamy voice rose, breaking the silence and she asked:

"Maybe we should go see where Percy is, don't you think?"

Chapter 11

Luna's question seemed to snap everyone back to their senses. She was right, they should go and talk to Percy. If only to make sure he was all right, his departure having been so rushed.

The whole Weasley clan decided to appear at Percy's and in a succession of cracks, they all disapparated at the third son's place.

They appeared right outside Percy's flat and Charlie knocked on the door, but no one answered. He knocked a second time:

"Percy? It's us, we'd like to talk to you".

But only silence answered.

"Maybe we should try going straight in?" suggested Fred, but Bill immediately objected:

"No. We've invaded his privacy enough for one day".

He didn't look in Hermione's direction, but she still ducked her head in her shoulders. First she had mentioned his role in the war without his consent and then she had revealed the truth to his family, knowing full well that he didn't want it talked about.

Charlie knocked a third time on the door:

"Perce? It's us, we just want to talk to you".

But the door still didn't budge. Molly stepped forward and knocked gently on the door:

"Percy? It's Mum. Would you please open the door for us?" she begged softly.

The door remained still, and not a single sound escaped from the flat.

Finally George stepped forward, muttering:

"Fuck this".

And he turned the door handle before Bill could stop him.

And the door opened with a soft creak.

Everyone exchanged surprised looks. It wasn't like Percy to leave his flat door open. George pushed the door open a little more and entered the flat, followed by the rest of his family, Bill muttering something about trespassing.

They had barely entered the flat when they stopped abruptly in their tracks.

The sight that unfolded in front of their eyes left them speechless. The flat was cold and poorly heated, with dozens of boxes of take-away food lying on the coffee table and the dining table in the kitchen. In some of them, the rest of the food was rotting. Books were lying on the floor among dirty clothes. On the couch, the woollen blanket was covered in filthy stains. Papers were left here and there, on a chair, on the floor, on a stack of books.

The blinds were closed and the half-drawn curtains had holes in them.

The bedroom door was ajar and what little they could see from where they were standing didn't paint a prettier picture. The sheets looked too thin for early March and were discoloured with grime, and the floor was covered with clothes, books and paper tissues rolled into balls.

Ron muttered devastated:

" Is that Percy's flat?"

Charlie murmured a "Yes" so faintly that no one heard it even in the deafening silence of the room. Fred whispered:

"What happened here?"

And nobody could answer him. This couldn't be their brother's flat. It couldn't be the flat of their brother, who had always been a stickler for tidiness and cleanliness when he lived at the Burrow, who was the only one of the children to have always kept his room neat and tidy, even when he was 6 years old. This couldn't be Percy's flat.

But everyone had to face facts: this was Percy's flat.

And judging by its state, something serious had happened to the third son of the Weasley family.

Chapter 12

Despite the Weasleys' hopes that the apartment would not be Percy's, it was, unfortunately, his apartment. And one thing was certain, Percy wasn't in it.

"Where's Percy?" asked Ginny, voicing the question that was on everyone's mind.

"I don't know, Gin," Bill replied quietly.

And that was the problem, no one knew where Percy was. But the sight of Percy's apartment, combined with Hermione's revelations and Percy's earlier outburst, was beginning to make the Weasleys anxious about what might have happened to the third Weasley son.

"He was here not long ago," Ron said suddenly.

All heads immediately turned in his direction and he clarified:

"His magical signature indicates that he was around thirty minutes ago".

Without anyone noticing, Ron had cast a magical signature detection spell that he regularly used in his work as an Auror. This spell made it possible to find out who had last been in a particular place by tracing their magical signature.

He briefly explained this to his family:

"I just used a magic signature detection spell used by Aurors".

This explanation seemed to snap Bill out of his musings and he blurted out:

"If his magic signature is still present, we can try to find out where he's gone. There's a spell for that, to track down cursed magical objects that can teleport after being touched, so we can try to do the same for Percy".

Ron nodded, and the young Auror and the curse-breaker set to work. But Charlie's voice interrupted them:

"Is it really a good idea to do this? I mean, we're kind of invading his privacy here, aren't we?

Bill turned his head to his little brother and replied softly:

"I know, Charlie, but after seeing Percy leave in such hurry and now Percy's apartment, I can't just stand by and do nothing. Percy is not well, and I don't want to leave him alone," concluded the eldest son.

Charlie nodded, his brother was right. If Percy had left his apartment in such a disastrous state, he must be going badly, and had been for quite some time judging by the amount of rotting takeaway food boxes lying around the apartment.

Fred and George stared at the apartment with a very bad feeling. In terms of age, he was the closest to them and they had often spent time together as children before the twins got tired of this too strict and not funny enough big brother. But during that short time, they had always noticed how well Percy took care of his things.

If he came to play with them, he always laid his book flat on a table or a shelf, his clothes were always put away in the wardrobe, his favorites always finding a way to end up at the top of the pile. His bed was always made properly, the woolen quilt always neatly folded. And unlike his brothers and sisters, he never ate anywhere but at the dining table. Yet here, all the so typical fussiness of their big brother seemed to have completely disappeared.

And the only time the twins had seen Percy not tidy his room properly was when he was 7 and his parents explained to him that he probably needed glasses but, in the meantime, he couldn't read as to no further damage his eyes. He had been devastated that day and he had stopped tidying his room until the appointment with the ophthalmologist, preferring to cry in his bed in front of the injustice he was experiencing.

But this time it was a thousand times worse.

And then finally Ron shouted:

“We found him!”

Chapter 13

Summary:

Back to Percy's POV

Notes:

TW: Mentions of depression

The wind was blowing, the fine Scottish rain dampening the air and lightly soaking Percy's clothes and hair.

He could have apparated closer but he wanted to walk. Walking had always helped him to calm down. When he was still living at the Burrow and his siblings became unbearable, shouting at each other, breaking all the rules, causing explosions or knocking things over, Percy often preferred to go outside. The peace and quiet outside and the long walks in the nearby forest allowed him to stop thinking about anything, to stop thinking about the noise.

He never knew how to explain to his parents and siblings that their screams reminded him of the ones he'd heard coming from his parents' bedroom when his Uncle Gideon had died, or the ones her mother had let out a few weeks later when Uncle Fabian had joined his twin on the other side.

He'd never been able to explain to his siblings or his parents how the sound of explosions during Fred and George's jokes always took him back to the war, when he'd had to hide during Death Eater attacks and remain silent for hours, the slightest noise being a death sentence.

Walking was the only moment when he could find peace during the years living at the Burrow. And when he was at Hogwarts, walking was the only things that helped him for his nightmares.

He had never been able to explain to his family that, despite the charms that prevented nightmares at the Burrow, his dreams had been haunted by the silence of war. He'd never known how to tell his family that when Bill left for Hogwarts at the age of 5 he'd believed for weeks that he wouldn't be coming back. Like his uncles before him.

Maybe if he'd known how to talk to them he wouldn't be here today, walking in the Scottish rain.

Maybe if he'd known how to talk to them, he could have told them why he'd been so opposed to Harry's claims at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. How could he explain to his parents or siblings that the mere mention of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named still gave him nightmares at 19 years old? How could he explain to his parents that when Harry had announced his return, he had remembered the long silence of the nights, his mother's cries, his parents' haunted looks, his older brothers' discussions in secret and the wide eyes of his younger brothers, unable to understand the danger they were in. He had done all he could to shield them from it by reading them stories and leaving out half the words because he couldn't read them, but in the end, he never really believed he had succeeded. Maybe he had, seeing how free and happy his siblings all were. But he had never thought he succeeded.

Idiot, always said Penny, in the most affectionate way possible. Because she knew he succeeded. He was just to much hurt and broken to realise it.

He would have liked to explain to his parents that he had never fully come back from the First Wizarding War and that he didn't want to, couldn't, go through the same thing all over again. Maybe if he had, he would not have fought with his father and siblings. Maybe if he had, he would have had a family during the war. He did had Penny, but even when she was all he had, she wasn’t enough. But he could not explain all of this.

To explain all of this, he needed to have the words to do it. And he had never really had them. Only Penny had understood. She always understood everything, even when he could not explain it to her.

He keep on walking and soon he was approaching a cliff, walking slowly, his hands shaking heavily, his breathing choppy.

Then he stopped at the top of the cliff, in front of a dark grey, rain-soaked tombstone, and whispered:

"Hello Penny".

Chapter 14

Summary:

Back to the others Weasley POV

“He’s in Scotland”, explained Ron to the whole Weasley bunch currently bundled up in Percy small appartement.

“What the fuck is he doing in Scotland?” asked Ginny,

“Language”, muttered Molly Weasley but her exclamation fell flat. She didn't have the heart to reprimand one of her children today. Not after seeing her third son's appartment and the look of infinite sadness he had shot her before disappearing less than an hour ago.

“I don’t know Gin”, answered Ron “but his magical signature indicates he went there”.

Ginny nodded but Fred exclaimed:

“Well? Lets go! Now we know where he is”.

Fred's exclamation seemed to propel all the Weasleys into action. They all seemed to function in slow motion, as if they had been shattered by the various revelations about Percy. In a way they were. But probably not nearly as much as Percy.

Percy had been a hero during the war, but the Weasleys were far from stupid. Stubborn and reckless, yes, but not stupid, contrary to what the Gryffindors' detractors might think. And they understood that even if Percy had been a hero, something had happened during the war. Something terrible. Because the Percy who had returned from the war was not the Percy they had known.

Ron gave the apparating coordinates and they all disapparated in rapid succession.

They apparated in a field, the thin Scottish rain enveloping them in a cold dampness. Further on, they spotted Percy, standing at the top of a hill.

They exchanged glances and together they began to climb the hill. No one dared say a word. They were all focused on Percy, who was standing at the top of the hill.

The closer they got, the better they could see Percy. And something began to unsettle Bill even more than before. Percy was completely still.

Percy was perhaps the only Weasley capable of remaining calm and still. Bill had seen the proof many times during their childhood and their shared time at Hogwarts. But he was never that still. It was like he wasn’t even alive. He looked more like a statue than a man.

But Bill wasn’t the only one disturbed by Percy’s stillness. Fred and George were too. They were the closest in age to Percy and even if he liked to do more calm (boring) things such as reading or cooking with their mum, he was never still. When he read, he was always moving his feet when the plot started to be more exciting or sigh when the action dragged on. He would jump up and down in his chair when the action reached its climax, and he would always twist a lock of hair with his fingers as he discovered the new world he had delved into. Even when he was doing his homework, he wasn't so frozen. He mumbled faintly, played with the corner of the sheet, and swayed in his chair. But he was never perfectly still.

Even Molly and Arthur worried about Percy's stillness. He seemed not to be present in his own body, as if he had been stupefied or turned into a statue.

And when they finally reached Percy, they saw he was standing in front of a cliff, but not to close to the edge. They could hear his shaky breathing, and they saw his hands and how much they were shaking.

He was standing a few meters before the edge, seemingly unaware of their presence. He was staring at something right in front of him.

And then they all saw what he was looking at.

It was a grave.

Chapter 15

Summary:

Back to Percy's POV

Notes:

TW : Mention of character death, Suicidal thought, Self-hatred, Depression

The rain pour slowly around him, wetting his hair and robes and turning the stone in front of him a darker shade of grey.

He read the words on the stone. He knew them by heart. But he read them anyway.

Here lies Penelope Clearwater,

Friend, Confidant and Soulmate.

Forever in the stars

He had read these lines hundreds of times. And each time, it was as if a fresh dagger was being thrust into his heart.

"It's been a long time Pen. I know. I should have come back sooner. But I couldn't. I couldn't get out of my house. I’m sorry."

He could smell the rain.

"I wish I'd come sooner. I can't do this without you."

The drops that fell slowly on the stone formed a stain that spread slowly into the stone and then another raindrop felt and tainted the stone next to it. And another. And another. And another.

"My family knows about the war."

The rain continued to fall around him, in a soft, quiet rustle.

"I didn't want to tell them, you know. Not after you."

The wind blew gently.

"I didn't have any choice. Hermione told them. I guess knowing she and my brother are dating, it was inevitable."

The grass rustled under the caress of the wind.

"I wish so much they never found out. That they didn't know the full extent of my mistakes. Because now they will hate me more.”

The rain was soaking his hair, which was beginning to frizz slightly. It was soaking his clothes. A few raindrops crashed against the lenses of his glasses.

“I wish you were here. I don’t know how to do it without you. I think I had a panic attack. Maybe. I don't know. You would know. You always knew thing better than me."

In the distance, he could hear the crashing of the waves under the cliff.

"I remember all their names you know? Yours too."

In the distance, he heard the distinctive crack of an apparition.

"I can't forget, you know. I want to forget sometimes. All the time. It hurts."

It continued to rain.

"I so wish it had been me. Not you. It's all my fault. I hate myself. Do you hate me?"

There were tears on his cheeks. Or maybe it was the rain.

“I wished I died, instead of you. It would have been fairer. It should not have been you.”.

The wind felt cold.

“How do I keep going Penny? I don’t know how to do it. I wished you were still here. You always knew what to do”.

Idiot, she would call him. He wished she would call him something. Anything.

“I wished you were here.”

He could hear footsteps coming closer.

And then.

“Percy?”

Chapter 16

Summary:

Weasley family POV (mostly Charlie's)

Notes:

TW : Mentions of death, self hatred,

Charlie saw first the grave, then the tears in his brother's eyes. He looked so hurt, so fragile. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his little brother in a hug, but he knew that he didn't like to be touched without warning and he didn't want to make him suffer any further.

So he asked, "Percy?"

Percy didn't turn around. He didn't even seem to notice the presence of his family behind him.

Charlie insisted and asked softly, as if he was approaching one of his wounded dragons:

"Percy?"

Percy kept starring at the tombstone in front of him. Charlie was becoming very worried. Then suddenly Percy whispered in a broken voice:

"Do you hate me?"

Charlie gasped as the words left his brother's mouth and rushed to answer:

"No, of course I don't hate you Percy".

"You should," Percy replied simply, in a broken voice. And felt into silence again.

Charlie was beginning to panic. Ever since Hermione's announcement, he hadn't been able to shake the bad feeling that had settled in his gut. But Percy's question had turned this bad feeling into genuine concern.

What did he mean, they should hate him?

“Percy, what do you mean, we should hate you?”

Percy didn’t answer, looking at the gravestone in front of him.

“Percy? What did you mean by we should hate you?”.

He was still looking at the grave, and then he asked in a broken voice:

“Did Hermione tell you about the war?”.

“Yes, yes she did”, replied Charlie, who was starting to be a little confused by his brother's strange behaviour. “She said you saved 183 people”

“176.”, replied immediately Percy

“What?”, asked Fred who had approached his big brothers.

“I saved 176 people, not 183”, explained Percy in a voice completely devoid of emotion but still a little raw.

“But she said…”, started Fred

“I forged two hundreds papers.”, said Percy

And at that both Fred and Charlie felt their jaws drop.

“Seven of them were arrested and put into Azkaban. Five of them never received their false papers. And twelve died.”, said Percy in a raw voice but completely devoid of emotion. “I remember all of them you know? Especially those I failed”.

“Perce…” chocked Bill.

“I killed them.”, stated Percy, his voice raw but detached, unexpressive.

“What?”, chocked Charlie, “Percy, you saved people…”

“They died because of me.”, interrupted Percy, looking at the grey sky and dark sea before the cliff “Because I could not save them. So I killed them.”

Everyone was at a loss for words. Every one of his siblings felt lost, seeing the brother they always thought of as a prat, a pretentious arse, a coward, saying he killed people. His parents felt like their hearts were breaking, seeing how their son felt so broken.

“Do you hate me now?”, he asked, like he would have asked if they liked cake or the rain. Like if the fact they could hate him was something trivial.

“Percy, no”, said Bill in a gentle voice, “we love you.”

Percy kept looking at the grey sky and dark sea.

“Percy, you do know we love you right?”, stressed Charlie.

Only silence answered him, and then Percy muttered faintly:

“Why?”.

And if Percy had pierced his heart with a dagger, Charlie would have felt the same pain.

What happened to make Percy wonder why they loved him?

Chapter 17

Summary:

Fred and George's POV

Notes:

TW : Slight mentions of depression, self hatred

Fred was dumbfounded. He couldn't understand what Percy had just said. And at the same time, he wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he understood that he was loved. He might not have told him recently, but he had shown him so he had to know. Right?

George was perhaps the more sensitive of the two twins and right now he hated that. He felt terrible and he didn't like it one bit. His big brother wondered why they loved him for Pete's sake. And, he thought bitterly, they hadn't really given him any reason to believe that they loved him. And he felt even more miserable. And he hated that even more.

Percy had asked why they loved him. And it was breaking everyone’s hearts.

And Fred suddenly exclaimed:

"Because you're our brother. Of course we love you."

And Percy just blew:

"Oh".

But everyone, Fred and George probably more than anyone else, hated Percy's tone. As if he just realised now that his family loved him.

And suddenly, as if Percy hadn't already broken enough their hearts, he whispered:

"But then why you don't like me?"

Their mother choked back a sob, and their father murmured weakly:

"Oh Percy."

But Percy didn't seem to realise the emotional turmoil he was causing his family:

"Is it because I failed? Because I hate myself for it too".

And if Percy had turned round and cast a Cruciatus spell on them, it wouldn't have hurt so much.

"I couldn't save them," Percy muttered, "I couldn't save her. If I'd succeeded, would you have liked me?".

Their father choked back a sob, wrapping his arms around his wife who was crying silently.

"Do you not like me because of what I said to Dad during the war? I hate myself for that too".

Everyone seemed at a loss for an answer. But it was as if the floodgates had opened for Percy and he continued:

"Is it because I didn't want to play Quiddich with you? Or is it because I would prefer reading?"

He looked down at Penny's grave and continued to ask:

"Is it because I didn't do enough to make you proud? Is it because I didn't support you enough? Is it because I didn't tell you I loved you enough?"

And then suddenly, as if something had just broken inside Percy, he whispered:

"Do you not love me because I loved you? Because all the people I love, I end by hurting them. Maybe that's why you don't like me."

Bill felt as if he were choking on his sobs. Charlie felt like a dagger was being thrust into his heart. George reached blindly for his twin's hand and held on as if his life depended on it. Fred felt nauseous. Ron clung to his two partners as if he would fall without them. Luna wrapped her arm around Ginny's shoulders and put her lips to her temple, trying to reassure her partner who was struggling not to show her emotions. And the Weasleys' parents were clutching each other, trying to understand why their son could think such a thing.

"Maybe it's better if you don't like me. I can't hurt you this way".

Bill chocked on his sobs and muttered soflty, almost pleading:

"Percy."

But Percy didn't seem to hear him and concluded:

"If you don't love me, you can't die because of me. Not like Penny."

Chapter 18

Summary:

Bill's POV this time

Notes:

TW : Mention of death, blood, torture.

Bill felt his heart break as he heard everything his little brother was saying. How could he think it would be better if they didn't love him?

But what he'd just said about Penny and how she'd died because of him, even though her grave was right at his feet, stirred up something in Bill. As if there was something he needed to understand but couldn't because the truth would have been horrible. And in a way he was right, the truth was horrifying. But probably worse than Bill could ever imagine. Worse than anyone could ever imagine.

Percy spoke again, this time with a certainty in his voice:

"Yes, it's better if you don't like me. Then nothing can happen to you. I should have told Penny that."

Bill approached his little brother and asked softly, as if addressing a wounded little animal:

"What happened with Penny, Perce?"

And for the first time since they'd arrived on that cliff, Percy turned back to them. And he asked, almost surprised:

"Didn't Hermione tell you?"

Bill shook his head, imitated by all his siblings and their parents.

"Oh." Percy replied, turning back to Penny's grave.

"I forged false papers during the war. The first ones were for her. For Penny." he explained, a slight melancholy smile on his lips. "She was the first one I wanted to save. So I made her false papers. They were the most perfect ones I ever made."

He paused for a moment, then continued:

"All I wanted was to protect her. But she loved me. And so... So she died."

He choked on a sob, and the sound hit Bill right in the heart.

"She was a Ravenclaw, and one of the most stubborn people I knew. So when she found out I kept forging papers, she joined me. At first she was just helping me hand out the false papers."

His breathing hastened.

"When the ministry fell, I was in a position too dangerous to go out and hand out the false papers without being noticed. So it was Penny who distributed them for me."

His hands were shaking terribly. Worse than usual.

"One day, they caught her. They thought she was making them. And that I was helping her. So they caught me too".

Bill's blood froze in his veins. He didn't know who the they Percy was talking about was, but he'd fought in the war. And he knew they often meant Death Eaters. He felt like throwing up. His little brother. He couldn't bear the thought of him being captured by Death Eaters. It had been terribly hard when he'd found out about Ron, but that had been during the war. At a time when such announcements were almost a daily occurrence. Now, five years after the end of the war, in a time of peace and renewal of life, learning that one of his little siblings had been captured made him sick.

"They took us to a room in the basement of the ministry. They wanted to know how many she had made. She refused to answer. She never said it was me. And... and they killed her."

He let out a sob and whimpered:

"They killed her in front of me and I couldn't do anything to help her."

"Percy," Bill murmured in despair.

"I should have helped him, but I couldn't. I couldn't," Percy whimpered.

"Perce," murmured Charlie,

"I couldn't help her," whimpered Percy. "They let her bleed to death in front of me, and I couldn't do anything to help her."

And then he sobbed:

"But I couldn't. Because I couldn't move."

"Percy," whispered their father, weakly.

"Why did they never teach us at Hogwarts that you can't move when you're under the Cruciatus spell?”.

Notes:

I will take 2 weeks break to plan the rest of the story.
Don't worry I'll not forget you all, but I've written more than I initially planned, so I need time to plan the rest of the story and the end.
Love you all

PrincessAngst

Chapter 19

Summary:

I'm back my loves!
With more angst! I hope you're ready for some fun!

So today is an Arthur's POV chapter

Notes:

TW :
Character death
Stabbing
Torture
Suicidal thought/Suicidal ideation

Again: if any of this is triggering for you: skip this chapter, characters will talk about this in less details later

Arthur felt sick.

Not his son. Not his baby.

Percy had been crucioed.

He wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both.

He wanted to hug his son and never let him go. But he did let him go. And he was hurt because of that.

He should have been able to protect his son.

Each of his children had suffered and been wounded during the war. But he had been there for all his children. He hadn't been able to protect them during the war, not like he had during the First, because all of them had chosen to fight.

All except Percy, and even though he'd blamed him for falling for the Ministry's corruption and manipulation, he'd foolishly thought, hoped, that, by making that choice, he wouldn't get hurt.

But he'd been tortured.

By a forbidden spell.

An Unforgivable one.

And the worst part wasn't the fact that his son had suffered in ways he couldn't have imagined, even though he felt like his heart would stop beating just hearing Percy say he'd been tortured. No, the worst was the guilt of not having protected him and, worse still, of having believed him to be a coward.

He'd probably saved more people than all of them put together, and he'd been tortured.

"Percy?" chocked Fred, "what do you mean?". The disbelief in his voice hurt. George clung to his twin's hand as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did.

But Percy didn't answer. Not really.

He croaked:

"He stabbed her ten times in the stomach, and I couldn't help her. She begged me to help her and I didn't. But I was in too much pain. I couldn't move. It's my fault she's dead.”

“Oh god Perce”, muttered Bill.

But Percy was no longer listening and croaked:

"I'm sorry, Penny. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But they wouldn't stop. I should have helped you. But they wouldn't stop."

Arthur was going to be sick.

His son.

His baby.

What had they done to his son?

And maybe any other day, Percy would have remembered that his family was behind him. Maybe on any other day he'd have hidden the truth. As he had done for almost five years.

But maybe the weight of the silence had finally fractured something inside him. Maybe the weight of the silence had become too much to bear.

And he croaked:

"I wanted to ask them to stop. But it hurt too much. I should have fought harder the first time. But they did it again. Again and again. You were dead when they stopped. They stopped but it was too late. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

And Charlie whispered:

"How many... how many times did they... how many times did they...".

He couldn't finish. But Percy couldn't hear him anyway. Yet maybe something deep inside him understood the question. Maybe something deep inside him wanted his family to know. Really know.

"I stopped counting after the seven time but they kept going Penny. I'm sorry. It should have been me. It shouldn't have been you. You didn't deserve that."

Chapter 20

Summary:

Ron's POV

Notes:

TW :
Suicidal thought
Mentions of torture
Mentions of death

He could not think. He felt like all the air he had in his lungs just vanished.

His big brother had been tortured.

His big brother had been tortured under the Cruciatus curse.

He though of Hermione. And her screams.

He thought of Hermione, put under the Cruciatus curse for almost fifteen minutes. And how those fifteen minutes had felt like fifteen years.

He thought of Hermione.

And then he thought of Percy. His big brother.

Seven times. He said they put him under the Cruciatus curse for seven times.

He could not think.

He was thinking too much.

Percy, his big brother, the one who taught him Chess, had been tortured for Merlin knows how long.

And then he felt the arm of Hermione and Harry wrap themselves around his waist and shoulders.

And then Ron cried. Slowly, silently. But with so much grief he felt like he was dying.

He wanted all to have been a stupid nightmare. A stupid dream that he would wake up from.

Percy had been tortured.

And he had hated him. Had thought him a traitor to the family.

He wished, oh how he wished that his brother had not been a bloody Gryffindor, reckless and self-sacrificial. How he wished that Percy had been the stupid coward he thought of him. And that he had not been tortured.

Hermione had been tortured and he had felt his heart was dying.

Harry had died and he died alongside him.

Percy had been tortured and he felt like breaking. Because he should have been safe. They all should have been safe.

But no.

Percy had been tortured.

And Ron had never once in the two years after the war, thought that his brother had been hurt. He thought that he had been a coward.

Why had he thought he was a coward. He was not a coward.

He was a hero.

He had been hurt.

But maybe there is a point in life when the pain become too much. When the pain must be shared. Because you can no longer bear it.

And maybe there is a point is life when the pain is shown to the world. And then, the pain does not stop. But someone else fell it. And it is so painful. But no longer lonely.

And Percy maybe had been lonely for too long. Maybe the loneliness should end.

“Why did they kill you, Penny? It should have been me. I begged them to let me die. But they didn’t listen. Why must I stay alive Penny? When you’re not. I should be dead.”

And then something inside Ron’s heart died. Because his brother had suffer. Because his brother wanted to be dead. Because his brother was crying.

Because his brother was tortured for maybe hours, begging to die and be denied it every time.

Because his brother was hurt, and no one should have been hurt.

Because his brother was no longer completely alive.

Because his brother was crying on his knees, looking at a grave, pleading at a grave, begging to have been killed, begging to this grave to be inside it.

Because his brother was crying on his knees, looking at a grave with his family behind him, and wishing to be dead.

Ron’s heart died many times. Fractured many times. Put back together many times. And broke again.

And today Ron’s heart broke, right in the middle, shattering in his chest.

And he felt like dying.

Chapter 21

Summary:

George's POV

Notes:

TW :
Suicidal thoughts
Talk of death/Killing oneself
Suicidal ideation

Again : if this is triggering, don't read!

It was a joke. It was a stupid prank. It should be a prank.

Like Percy would suddenly get up and laugh at their faces, and then smile and say : “Ah, I’ve got you!”.

It has to be a joke. Not the truth. Because the truth was horrible, painful. Because the truth was a tragedy and they all played a part in it. They screamed at him when he started to become a hero. They all let him down when he was risking his life. They called in a coward when he was more courageous than any of them. They hated him when he was ready to sacrifice his life to save so many.

And they let him down when he needed them. They let him down when he was tortured for Merlin knows how long.

Charlie was sitting next to Percy, wrapping his arms arounds Percy’s shoulders while he cried. Begging for him to have died. To have been killed.

George wanted to run to his older brother but he could not move. He felt like if he let go for one second of Fred hand he would crumble to the floor and die.

He was a prat. He was supposed to be a prat. Not a hero.

They let him down, and the guilt was almost to much. Because the Death Eater might have tortured him but they didn’t helped him.

George was not one who was accustomed with guilt. He new pain, anger, sadness, rage, fear, protectiveness, joy and freedom. But not guilt. Guilt was not an emotion he would often feel. Since the end of the war, he knew grief too, but not guilt. After all, the only ones who had been hurt by him during the war were Death Eater and their sympathisers.

He didn’t hurt anyone. But maybe he did. And that was maybe worse. Because he did, didn’t he ? He hurt his brother because he let him down. He hurt his brother because he hated him. Even though, since the end of the war, he had been grateful to Percy for saving his twin, he didn't really like him. He loved him, yes. But he didn't particularly like him.

And Percy was right, wasn't he? When he'd asked why they didn't like him. Because it was true, he didn't like him. And George didn't even really know why any more. Maybe because he was always on their backs, telling them what to do, stopping them from planning their jokes in peace. Yet there was a time when Percy had even participated. When they were just kids. He had helped them exchange all the Weasleys' jumpers and each of the children had ended up with a jumper that wasn't theirs. He helped them hide a hen in the bathroom, which woke up the whole family. He had helped them once. And then he stopped. And George couldn't really remember when. Or why.

He was always in a sour mood after a Prank. He never wanted to play Quidditch with them. And when Charlie left for Hogwarts, he became a real prat. Always on their backs, watching them like a shepherd's dog, hovering, always telling them not to do this, not to do that. At least Charlie and Bill left them alone. But not Percy. He was always on their backs. But, now that he thought about it, it had never been done in a mean way. It was just annoying. But not mean. It was like having a little Mum, always on their backs, but just, all the time. And George had never understood why he did it.

Percy was crying. He sobbed as Charlie and Bill wrapped their arms around him, trying to shush him.

“I should have protect you Penny”, sobbed Percy, deaf to the world.

“It’s not you fault Perce”, murmured Charlie.

“You did nothing wrong”, added Bill.

But Percy kept crying. And George heart kept breaking.

“It was the war Percy”, said Bill softly, “It was the Death Eater fault. Not yours”.

And maybe it was the wrong thing to say. Or maybe not. But Percy let out a wail. And he screamed:

“But she died because I tried to be a hero. She died because I was to much of a coward to stay alive when I should have just died! She died because I was not enough!”.

A tear rolled down George's cheek, but he did nothing to wipe it away. The burn of that tear on his skin was almost a punishment. And at the same time an absolution. Because he had never really felt guilt. But maybe it was time. It was time he finally felt what had always remained deep inside him. The guilt of having abandoned his brother during the war. Because even though he still felt justified in blaming his brother for leaving, for choosing to stay at the Ministry during the war, he had never really felt justified in rejecting part of his family.

“I’m never enough”, wailed Percy, “I’m never enough. Not for her. Not for you. Not for the family. Not even for myself. I’m just a stupid waste of space. Who lets their best friend die for them, except a stupid coward? Who lets their best friend died before their eyes and do nothing?”

“Percy, it’s not your fault”, tried Charlie, but Percy wasn’t listening. He stopped listening long before that.

“I’m just a stupid waste of space. Why did I had to be born? You would be happier if I wasn’t here. Everybody would be happier if I was just dead!”

And George's heart broke into tiny little pieces. So small that he knew his heart would never be whole again, even if he did his best to mend it.

Chapter 22

Summary:

Molly's POV this time.

Notes:

TW
Slight mention of child illness

How does a mother can survive the fact that her child is telling her that they want to die ? How does a mother can go on in life, knowing that her baby wants to kill themselves ? How does a mother can live knowing her child is in pain ?

Molly didn’t know the answers to these questions. And she wished she never had to answer them. But she did. She does.

Her baby is in pain. Her baby was hurt so much. Too much. Her baby was supposed to be safe, but he wasn’t. Her baby was hurt in unimaginable ways.

Her baby wants to die. He baby wants to kill himself. And she doesn’t know what to do. He was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to be happy.

She wants to scream at the universe for hurting his baby so much. And she wants to scream to her past self for not noticing that something was wrong. She is his mother. She is supposed to protect him. But she failed. And she wants to scream.

But she is a mother. And she protects her child. She can’t stop them from being hurt but she can heal them. She can’t stop them from being upset but she can comfort them. She can’t stop them from making mistakes, but she can take away the blame. She can’t stop them from being sad, but she can love them. And so, she will heal him, comfort him, take the blame away and love him. She had always done that. And she will continue to. Because he is her son. And she is his mother.

And so, she let go of Arthur hand and freed herself from his embrace. He murmured her name, softly, almost surprised. But she didn’t listen. She had only eyes for his third son, huddled between his two big brothers, crying on the floor. She put a soft, kind, but firm hand on Charlie’s shoulder and another one on Bill’s back. And she said :

“Let me.”

She didn’t have to say much more. Her two sons understood, and they stood up, albeit a bit reluctantly. She saw the distress and the pain in their eyes. But for now, Percy was more important. She could protect them and comfort them later. For now, her third son was more important.

She felt to her knees next to Percy. And she gathered him in her lap, her arms hugging him gently, but with firmness. Much like she did all those years ago, when another war was taking place, and she had just birthed her third son. He was so tiny, so fragile. And for a few weeks, she feared he would not survive. There was a war, but he was too tiny, too weak. And so, she hugged him, fed him, nurse him, loved him. And he thrived, he blossomed under her very eyes. His small limbs were not so small anymore. And his cries were not so weak anymore. And his eyes were not so dull anymore. His limbs were full, his cries were powerful, and his eyes were bright.

But today he felt weak once again. And afraid. And small. And hurt. But she could save him. Like she did before. Not with food this time. But love. And care. And tenderness. She could save him. She could save her family. Her family was whole. Even if they were all hurt. Even if one of her sons had been tortured. She had love. And it would be enough.

Maybe love would not be enough. But she would make sure it would. Some people were talking about mind-healer. And she didn’t really believe in them. But if her son needed one, she would rummage the whole world to find him one. And if her son wanted nothing, she would make sure he stayed alive, well feed and rested, until he would want something. And then she would get him that.

He was crying silently against her chest, like he did sometimes when he was a baby. And she rocked them back and forth, shushing him gently. Her jumper was drench with rain and tears, but she didn’t care. Her knees hurt but she didn’t really feel them. Her son was most important.

And slowly, his cries subsided. And his breathing even out. And then she said :

“Let’s go home”.

Notes:

Alright my loves, it's been a while.
I had a lot of doubts about this project and felt it was starting to deviate too much of the original plot but I'm back with more ideas.
Please keep commenting you're giving me strength.
Once this piece is finished, I plan to make a sequel. (Or more if I'm motivated). Do you want to read that sequel/next installment once this piece is finished or not? Please let me know.

Chapter 23

Summary:

Everybody's POV
So much angst

Notes:

TW : Suicidal ideation/Suicidal tendencies

Going home from the cliff felt like waking up after a long nightmare, where you were not really awake, in a sort of strange haze, still in the darkness of your dream but in the comfort of your own bed where you felt safe. It was like living in that sort of strange in-between, where everything still hurt, where the pain from the dream is still here but numbed. Like a faint ache that you know is here, but you can’t really tell from where it comes from.

The trip home was silent, words weighing on their hearts like a weight dragging them down. They couldn't have spoken, and if by some miracle one of them had known what to say, they wouldn't have been able to say it. These words waited like a grey cloud, filled with rain, but whose drops refused to fall, darkening the world, blocking the sun's rays that would never pass through this dark, heavy barrier. The words were waiting. They would come, but not in this very moment. They would come out, but not here and now.

Opening the door to the house where they all lived as children was almost surreal and at the same time felt like leaving the pain, they all felt on that cliff. But in a way, that pain hadn’t left. It was just diffuse, like after a burn where numbness sets in, where you feel the pain without really feeling it, because your body is trying to fight the pain. It's still there, it just seems further away.

Their hearts were broken, and no one knew how to mend them. Maybe the only person who could fix them was Percy. But Percy wasn't really sure he had a heart anymore. Or, if he did, it was reduced to a thousand shards that would never really come together ever again.

On the couch, waited Fleur, Victoire sleeping in her lap. Even if she hadn’t been on that cliff, she was tainted by grief. A grief she didn’t understand, but she would come to understand. Grief seemed to have tainted everything in the world. Because knowing that one of your family was tortured would cause the world to lose its colour. But knowing that this person, that this brother and son wanted nothing more than to die, would cause the world to be tainted by the faint trace of death. There would be no more colour, no more joy, no more laughter, no more light, until the grief came to pass.

Grief had this strange habit to arrive even if the person was not dead. Knowing that death might have come or could come was enough for it. Grief was silent, but it tainted everything, and mostly life. Because sometimes grief was not about death. Grief was about what was lost and would never come back.

Percy didn’t die. But something in him did die. His will to live, his spark, his joy, his cockiness. Or maybe is innocence. All of them had lost it during the war. They saw things that they should have never see. But Percy, like Hermione, had lost it in an unimaginable way. A painful way. But unlike Hermione, he lost more the night his innocence was lost. He lost a friend. She was more than a friend, more than a lover, more than a sibling. And he lost her.

Grief was not always about death. It was about what was and what was no more. It was about what used to be and what was left. Percy didn’t die. But the man his family had always known was no more. He used to be Percy Weasley, slightly arrogant and pompous, in his righteousness that he used to show off, his high intelligence and his joyous manner. He was now Percy Weasley, lonely and sad, depressed and terribly hurt by the lost of his soulmate and drowning in his mistakes.

Grief was not always about death. It was about what used to be and what will now be. What will now be the new reality. They had almost all lost their brother or their son. And they had to live know with the knowledge of what happened. Their grief was about what they almost lost and what they lost. They almost lost a brother and a son. And they lost the ignorance of a reality that no one should have been exposed to.

They were now inside the Burrow, Bill gathering his family in his arms and swearing, whishing that his daughter would never have to live what they lived through. And that, even if thing got hard, she never would think about ending her life. He hoped his wife would never be hurt that much. She was hurt enough during the war.

Charlie sat on the floor. He never wanted to have a lover nor children, even if he loved his niece and wish for more to play with, dot on and spoil, as any good uncle would do. But he prayed to Merlin, Morgana, and Godric that never, ever, anyone in his family and, Merlin forbids, his nephews and nieces, would ever think what Percy was thinking. And that no one in his family would ever be hurt like that ever again.

Fred and George, huddled in the comfy armchair, clutching their hands, and looking at each other made the promise to never, ever, hurt Percy again. Or any of their siblings. They had realized with absolute horror, on that cliff, that they could have lost a brother. That they still could, if Percy decided that living was too much, too hard. They could not lose any of their siblings. And so, they vowed to make sure their siblings, and more importantly, Percy, would feel happy again. They were prankster. And a prank was supposed to make people smile. So, they would make them smile. All of them. And they would make sure that Percy would smile too.

Ron and his partners sat on a pile in the love seat. Hermione kissing his head while his eyes stared into space. Harry’s arms were clutching his waist, almost painfully, but so tender and loving. It was grounding, remining Ron that he was here and now, in his childhood home, with his family. His whole family, with his lovers, his soulmates. He was here and now. He was not on that cliff. He was not listening to his older brother breaking down in the arms of his oldest brothers and mother. He was here and now. With his family. All alive.

Ginny was holding Luna fiercely, almost protectively. But if anyone dared to look more than a few second, they would notice that Ginny had a arm around her shoulders, one hand carding through her hair. And the other hand right above her heart. Ginny was holding Luna, but Luna was the one holding her together, making sure that the former youngest Weasley would not break. Ginny was like glass. Firm, solid, but one tiny thing could break her. And Luna was making sure she would hold.

And in the middle of all of them, was Percy. Slumping in a chair in a way his older self would deem unacceptable, his eyes were dead, and his cheeks were drench with tears. He was here, but in his mind, he was still on that cliff, next to Penny, wishing for the umpteenth time, that it was him who took, rightfully, the blame for his actions.

And in the kitchen, Molly was cooking, one hand agitating her wand, and the other, firmly clasped between her husband’s hands. Because both wanted to be remined of one tiny, yet so important thing. They were all here.

Notes:

Alright my loves, are you crying? If not, don't worry, there will be more angst next.

Also please keep commenting your giving me strength (I don't want to abandon this work again)

Love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 24

Summary:

Percy's POV

Notes:

TW : Slight mentions of depression

He was cold. He was always cold, even when he was at home. He was home, now and he was so cold. But was he really at home? Percy didn’t remember the last time the Burrow felt like home. He didn’t remember a time when he felt at home anywhere. It was before Penny’s death, that was sure, but he didn’t remember when.

Someone shook his shoulder, gently. He opened his eyes. He didn’t remember even closing them. In front of him was Fred, looking at him with big, watery eyes. He was sure it was Fred. He had a little mole, almost a freckle, but a bit darker, right under his left eye. George didn’t have this mole. And he also had his two ears. That was a dead giveaway of their identities now. But Percy always looked for this small mole. He always had.

“Mom said that dinner was ready.”

Outside it was dark. The spring rain was gently taping at the window. The house was warm. It was always perfectly warm, even in the summer when it was hot and stuffy outside, it was just the perfect temperature. Not too hot and not too cold. But he was cold. He was always cold now. He had been cold since the day he left the family and worked in the Ministry, trying to save Muggleborn and Halfblood.

Fred was looking at him and he was smiling, but his smile was sad and wrong. The usual chatter and general loudness had fade away. The room was almost silent. Everyone talking in hushed tones. It felt wrong and also so much right. It sounded like it always sounded in Percy’s mind since the end of the war. Silent and sad.

He rose from his seat and Fred was still looking at him. Like he was afraid he was going to break if he fell, like a glass doll.

He smiled at Fred. He always hated when the twins were sad. Everyone, really, but more importantly the twins. He always remembered the dark days during the war when Fred and George, too young too really understand what was happening, still got upset because Mom and Dad were upset. Maybe one day he could look at his siblings and his parent and not think about the dark days of the first war or the loneliness and terror of the second.

They went to the dining room, where everyone was already sat, eating silently. But when he entered the room, it felt even more silent. Everyone turned to look at him, sadness etched upon their faces. George pat a chair next to him, looking in his and Fred’s direction. He was probably looking at Fred. After all, there was nothing that could come between the two twins.

But then George called :

“Perce, you can sit here if you want.”

Percy turned his head toward sharply George. His eyes were earnest and his smile a little bit sad. So much like Fred earlier.

Fred grabbed the chair next to Charlie and asked:

“If you want you can sit next to Charlie. But we’d like you to sit between us, if that’s ok with you.”

Percy just stared. He didn’t really understand what was happening. But everyone was looking at him. And everyone was sad. But Fred and George’s eyes were big and earnest, and the brown of their iris was warm and soft, and it felt wrong to be seen with such eyes but also so, so right.

And so he sat in the middle, between the twins. Since they were born, it had been impossible for someone to sit between them, even at Hogwarts. But here, he could. And it felt strange. But almost warm. And he was cold all the time. But here, he felt a little less cold and a little bit more warm.

And then his eyes fell on the table and he saw Shepherd's pie with peas and apple pie and his eyes burned. Because his mother had made his favourite food and he wanted to cry. Because he didn’t remember the last time he ate that. And because he felt warm.

And he was so, so cold all the time. But here and now, between his brother and with the food of his mother he felt a little less cold and his heart felt a little less empty.

And then Fred and George hugged him tight and his mom was kissing his cheeks and his dad was carding his hand in his hair and Charlie held his hand and Ron clutched the other and Bill was kissing his forehead and Ginny was hugging his shoulders. And he felt his mom and dad wipe his tears and he didn’t remember when he started crying and then Victoire climbed on his lap and she was looking at him with his big blue eyes and her blond hair was held in two little pigtails and she put her tiny hands on his face and she asked:

“Are you sad?” and her tiny, pink lips turned into a worried pout and he could not speak.

He shook his head and then she frowned and asked, with so much seriousness:

“Maman says that if I’m crying and I’m not sad, it’s because I’m tired. Are you tired?”.

And he nodded softly. He was so, so tired all the time, but he could not sleep because of the nightmares, and he was so, so warm and the warm was so nice and he wanted the warm because the cold was too dark and too heavy.

“Dad says I have to eat before bed. Have you eaten?”.

And he shook his head. And her tiny face was making something strange like she was trying to solve a puzzle. And then her frown disappeared, and she said, almost triumphantly:

“You have to eat and then you can go to bed.”

He nodded, softly, and everyone was here, and he was so tired. But he was warm, and his heart was less empty, and he was so safe.

“Do you like going to bed?”, asked Victoire, like this was suddenly the most important question in the world.

He shook his head, and she smiled like she understood:

“I don’t like it either. So, Maman read me a story. Can you read?”.

He nodded.

“Do you know the story of the Bumblebee and the Mouse?”.

He nodded softly. He had gifted that book to Bill when Victoire was born. For when she would be older, he said.

“Can you read it to me? It’s my favourite!”.

And then he took his hands from the grasp of Ron’s and Charlie’s and wrapped his arms around his niece, tears falling freely from his eyes.

Her tiny body against his felt so warm and safe and loved. And the arms of everyone around him felt so warm and soft and safe and he was not so cold anymore, not so empty, not so scared and not so lonely.

Maybe that would not last, but for now he was warm, he was safe, and he was loved and even with the tears falling and his shoulders trembling and his lungs burning he was warm.

Notes:

Hello my loves!
I know, I don't post on this work enough but I'm back.
I hope you've enjoyed this chapter!

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 25

Summary:

All right I'm back with fluff and some angst this time!

Notes:

TW : Mentions of depressions
Aftermath of torture
Mentions of past injuries

The sky was dark, the faint bluish light of the moon lit up softly the garden, basking the trees in a soft hue and the wet grass looked like it had bit dotted by silver. The air was damp but it had stopped raining during the diner.

Sitting on the bench in the garden, Percy looked at the picture in front of him, not really seeing it. The diner had been a strange experience and he was still floating a bit. He was a cluster of little broken things that could never be put back together perfectly. Yet tonight, for the first time in almost three years, since Penny's death, he was no longer just this broken mess, he was a little bit more Percy and a little bit less of the dark, sticky void that seemed to engulf him more every day.

The door of the house opened and the warm light lit up the garden in a sort of fiery gold. The sound of crunching footsteps on the earth and the gravel came closer and Bill sat down gently beside him:

“Mind if I sit a bit here?”.

Percy shook if head softly and kept on looking at the garden, lit in silver. An owl called, some mouses squeaked, and lost in the wood, a fox was hunting. The sound of nature was always omnipresent in The Burrow. Lost in the middle of fields that covered in blooms in the spring, wheat and rye in the summer, brown leaves in the autumn and white powdery snow in the winter, The Burrow was always surrounded by nature, in sight, smell and sound. Percy liked those sounds. The nights during the war, everything had been so silent and void of life. So when one night he heard some mouses and owls while he was lying of his bed in his room, he knew that the darkness that plagued his childhood had gone. And when the next morning his parents had told them that everything was good, that peace had been restored he believed them instantly. Because the nature was back.

Bill's hand slipped gently over his. He looked up at his older brother, who was watching his trembling hands. They were always trembling now. Bill swallowed and asked in a slightly shaky voice:

"Your hands... I never asked but is it..." he left the question hanging and Percy looked down at his hands.

His long, thin, white hands that trembled slightly in his older brother's large, strong hands.

Irreversible nerve damage had said the healer who Percy had gone to afterward. The healer had shot him a pitying look which he had paid no attention to. It didn't matter to him that his hands would never function normally again. The only thing that mattered to him that day and all the days that followed was Penny. His family too, although he'd never really wanted to think about that.

"An exposure to the Cruciatus curse for too long destroys the nervous system. The nerve connections in my hands didn't resist," Percy breathed softly.

Bill chocked on a sob and Percy looked straight ahead. And then his hands were lifted and he turned his head to look at his big brother cradling his hand and kissing them softly. Like he had seen Bill kiss Victoire knees after she felt down. Like he had seen his dad kissed Ron head after he banged his head against the door frame when he was five. And suddenly he felt like crying.

And then Bill arms wrapped around him and he was pulled into a soft and tight embrace. Bill's lips touched his hair and he let himself melt into his brother's touch. Bill's embrace was warm and soothing and somehow he felt safe.

The air was damp and slightly cold but Bill’s arms were warm and soft.

“I love you Perce. I love you so much.” mumbled softly Bill into Percy’s hair.

Percy froze. He was cold and hot and he wanted to run and scream and…

And Bill’s arms were warm.

And Bill’s hands on his back were strong.

And Bill’s voice was soft.

And his heart was broken. So much.

But the darkness, the void, the cold was just a little less sticky and dark.

The shards of his heart were still coated in that dark, sticky and cold substance that threaten to submerge everything at any given moment. But that substance was a little less cold when he was in Bill’s arms. And so he let himself float.

He would fall down, eventually, but for now, floating was good.

It was maybe a few second later or a few years later when Bill’s arms lessen around him and Percy looked into the blue eyes of his brother. They were glazed with tears but his cheeks were dry. And his lips were curled up into a soft sad smile.

“I’m glad you’re here.”, whispered softly Bill.

And Percy whished he could say Me too. But he couldn’t. Because here meant remembering everything. The war, the darkness, the cold, the pain and the loneliness. Here meant remembering his failures and his faults. Here meant remembering everything he still had to atone for.

He turned his head toward the garden. The light of the moon was darkened by the clouds that passed softly before it, and the garden was deprived of the silver that adorned the grass from time to time.

They felt into a soft silence, Bill’s hand holding still his hands in his, so, so softly. And then Bill broke the silence and muttered softly:

“Also, Victoire was asking for you to read her a story.”

Percy turned his head toward his brother and asked, surprise lacing his words:

“Me?”

“Yes. You.” Replied Bill with a soft smile

“You’re sure? She asked for me?”

“I don’t know. Do you know another Uncle Percee?” asked Bill with a grin.

Percee. That was how Victoire called him. He loved it when the small girl called him that everytime she saw him. He knew he wasn’t as funny as Fred and George, or as strong as Charlie, or caring as Ron or witty as Ginny. But he loved the fact that this tiny human who looked so much as her mother but with Bill’s bright eyes loved him.

“Oh Perce”, whispered soflty Bill, his thumbs whipping out his cheeks.

And he didn’t remember starting crying.

“Of course she would ask you. She loves you. And you know how to read too.” added Bill with a soft grin.

And Percy let out a chocked laugh. He wiped his cheeks and then rose from the bench. He smiled soflty at Bill:

“I should not let her wait to long, then”.

“No, you’re right. The little princess can be very impatient”, replied Bill with a grin, rising too.

Percy turned toward the house and as he pushed the door opened, Bill and landed on his back. And his hand was so warm and soft that Percy couldn't help but let out a little sigh.

The pieces of his heart were still floating in that black, sticky magma, but tonight, for the first time in a long time, the magma didn't seem to want to spill over.

Notes:

Hello my loves! Are you well?

What did you think about this chapter? I plan to dwell into Percy's depression for a while so I hope you're still willing to read this story even if it takes a little bittersweet turn.

With love

PrincessAngst

(Also kudos and comments give me life)

Chapter 26

Summary:

All right my loves: a soft chapter for once!
This is from the POV of Victoire with a dash of bittersweetness at the end (because who doesn't love a bit of heartbreak?)

Notes:

A little explanation: I'm French, so I've included a few words in French because Victoire is half French and this chapter is from her POV.
Here's the translation of the few French words used in this chapter
Papi = Grandpa/ Grandfather
Mamie = Grandma/Grandmother
Maman = Mom/Mommy
Tatie = Auntie/Aunt

Hope you'll like that chapter!

Victoire loved stories. Whether they were French ones, British ones, muggles or magical, she didn’t care. What she loved was the different voices and the magic behind every words.

In her opinion, Maman was the best for the French stories. She had a soft voice and she was the only one who spoke in French all the time with her. Papi and Mamie and Tatie Gabi where living so far away, she hardly saw them. There was a whole sea between her and Papi and Mamie and Tatie Gabi, so it was very, very, very far away.

Daddy was great at telling stories with knights because he was doing the voices right. The knight were always strong and kind with Daddy.

Uncle Charlie was best at dragon stories because he always made the dragons win, and she thought that made perfect sense, since a dragon is a massive thing with fire, and little knights couldn't win. Unless she was the one being a knight, because then, when she played with Uncle Charlie, she always won.

Uncle Fred and Uncle George were great with funny stories, because there was always glitters and colourful smoke when they told the stories. The books they read were always more funny with Uncle Fred and Uncle George.

Uncle Ron was great because he was always telling her magical stories and he didn’t even need a book for that! And Uncle Harree was making pretty pictures to go with them. And Auntie Hermionee was reading her stories too and the princess was always strong and pretty and she loved that!

Auntie Ginnee was always telling her stories of flying. She couldn’t fly yet, because Daddy and Maman were against it but Auntie Ginny was making it look so magical. She could not wait for the day where Maman and Daddy would let her fly too.

Auntie Luna was funny because she was always talking about the little creatures that she saw everywhere. Victoire didn’t understand why nobody else were seeing them: she could see them too! And only Auntie Luna believed her. But they were everywhere! So Auntie Luna told her about all those funny little creatures since no one talked about them.

And then there was Uncle Percee. I didn’t read her often. But he was great at telling stories too. The one with the animals were the one he was best at. His voice was soft and he even let her hold the books so she could se the little picture better.

Tonight was a night for a story with animals, she decided. Uncle Percee had been weird at dinner, but he had hugged her, so he must be all right. She was very bright for her age, because she was almost four, so she was a big girl. Daddy always said she was a big girl, after all. And Maman was always praising her, telling her how intelligent she was. And Daddy and Maman were always right.

He was reading to her, softly. She had chosen The mouse and the bumblebee for tonight and she loved that story.

The little mouse had left her house, a small burrow under a big tree, to go on an adventure and Victoire loved this part. She wondered if one day she would live such an adventure. On her way, the small mouse found so many people. Mr Snail and the Beetle Family. Mr Squirrel and Mrs Ladybug. Miss Butterfly and Mrs Ant. Uncle Percee was doing all the voices and she loved it. It was great!

“Suddenly, at the turn of a blade of grass, Amelia found an acorn. Oh, what an acorn it was. Smooth and shiny, almost golden. She stopped to look at it: it was so pretty.

She would have liked to take it with her, but there was no more room in her bundle and the pockets of her blue-striped dress were too small to hold this wonderful treasure. So, with great reluctance, she abandoned her treasure.”, read Uncle Percee.

Uncle Percee voice was soft and the picture in the book she was holding were really pretty. The little mouse, Amelia, wore a really pretty dress and it was a blue one: like Maman old dress. And the acorn was really pretty. She found one, on day on the forest behind Grandpa Artie and Grandma Mollee house and he was really pretty too, but the one in the picture was prettier.

But then, the little mouse got lost. Victoire didn’t like that part of the story. It was so sad and terrifying. But then, Uncle Percee put his hand on her head and she just felt safe. Uncle Percee was great because he always knew when she was afraid or sad!

And then, Amelia met a small bumblebee and Victoire smiled. This part of the story was good. Her hands clenched on the book, wrinkling the pages a bit.

“The small bumblebee was lost too. He left to find a pretty flower but the wind was too strong for his little wings.

Amelia and he sat on a pebble. It was such bad luck, that they were both lost.

So Amelia talked about her home, where her six siblings and parents were waiting for her. And the Bumblebee, Hector, was sad too. Because he missed his big family, living in a hive on a big tree.

And then Amelia had an idea. Hector could fly and she could walk. She would find him his flower and he her home.

Hector could fly above the tall grass of the never-ending fields. And so he flew high, high, high. And then he exclaimed:

“I see the tree, Amelia!”

And Amelia was so happy! She could go home.

And then she found a beautiful flower. So she said to Hector:

“I’ve got a flower”.”

Victoire was giggling on her bed. Oh, how she loved this part. Amelia found the best flower and Hector found the tree. Soon enough, Amelia was back at the tree. Hector too lived in that tree.

And then Mr. Snail and the Beetle Family and Mr. Squirrel and Miss Butterfly and Mrs Ant lived in this tree too. And Victoire was so happy. Everything was perfect!

“And as she pushed the small door to the burrow, Amelia was met with all the faces of her family. They hugged her and she told them all about this amazing adventure she had.

But she was glad to be back home. After all, even all the adventure of the world and the many treasures out there could not compare to the love of a family and the comfort of a home”.

As Percy finished the story, Victoire closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh, a small smile forming on her lips as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

And as he left the room discreetly, Percy felt the cold come back, finding its way into his heart. Because, the small mouse had found her home and her family after everything, but Percy came back from the war to a place where he didn’t belong anymore. And he just felt cold everywhere.

Notes:

A bittersweet ending this time my loves!
I'm so glad you love this story and your lovelies comments really make my day
I hope you're ok with the delay between each chapter.

With that, have a good day/night and thanks again for all your comments/kudos/bookmarks!

Love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 27

Summary:

I'm baaaack!

New chapter: Charlie's POV this time

Notes:

TW :
Mention of dead character
Drinking alcohol

Charlie was sipping silently a glass of Firewhisky in the living-room. The day kept replaying into his head. How Hermione had, within thirty minutes, destroyed everything he knew and how he had realized he never really knew his brother. He kept on thinking about Percy’s apartment, the cliff, the grave, the screams, and the tears.

Every time he thought about the screams and tears of his little brother, his heart constricted painfully into his chest. He never wanted to hear him scream like that. And he surely didn’t want to see him cry like that ever again. Like he wished to be dead.

He could have died. That’s what he kept on thinking. He saved so many people and he could have died. And what was worse was that, at the time, he hadn’t spoken to him in almost two years. He could have lost his little brother, and he would not have been able to tell him that he loved him. He would not have been able to tell him goodbye.

He swallowed a large sip of Firewhisky to get rid of the dread that pooled in his stomach at the mere thought of losing his little brother. He was just 21 years old when he had been tortured. And he could have died that day, and no one would have known. Dad wasn’t really working at the Ministry at that time, and all the Weasley siblings were somewhere in England or Europe, trying to fight the war, thinking that Percy had betrayed them all. He could have died, and they wouldn't even have noticed.

He downed his glass in one swift motion, blinking back tears. He could not fathom living without one of his siblings. They were all living and safe, but he was suddenly struck by a wave of grief, realizing that they could have come back from the war with one of them dead, at the very least.

He poured another glass of Firewhisky and lean back on the couch he was sitting on. The door to the garden opened and Bill came back into the house. His eyes were red, and he sat down heavily into the couch next to him. He snatched a glass of Firewhisky and downed it in one swing motion.

Charlie hummed. He understood the feeling. After all, they were the oldest, and for a few years they had been the only Weasley children. They had always been close, closer than to Percy or any of the Weasley children. But then Percy was born. And he was instantly enthralled with that small baby with bright blue eyes. He had been so happy to be an older brother at the time.

And what older brother he had been, he thought bitterly. He had been a shitty older brother, and it took his brother breaking down in tears begging to have been killed to notice it. He couldn’t protect him. He left him and he had been tortured. He wanted to throw up. It was his role as a big brother to protect him. And he hadn't even stayed to make sure he was all right. He'd received a letter from Bill and the twins explaining that Percy was a traitor and he'd left it at that. He hadn't tried to find out if it was true, he hadn't even tried to talk to Percy. He'd just accepted that Percy had chosen his side and let him down. And in the end, he'd never done what everyone had accused him of doing. He was a hero, and he could have died.

“We fucked up Charlie”, whispered Bill.

Charlie hummed. He knew that and it was killing him. They had fucked up.

“His hands. He... He said that the Cruciatus curse had destroyed his nervous connexions in his hands.”, whispered Bill.

“Fuck.”, replied Charlie.

And if he wasn’t already felling nauseous, he wanted to throw up right now.

Because they all saw his hands shaking to much during the Sunday meals. And they said nothing, like it was just a new normal. Because they didn’t care.

“We saw his hands. And we did nothing”, croaked Bill.

“We fucked up.”, replied Charlie, looking at the wall across from them

“We did”

“Are we too late?”, whispered Charlie

“I don’t know.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? They didn’t know. They knew nothing about Percy, nothing about his bravery, his sacrifice, his life. They knew nothing and they didn’t do anything to change that in the years after the war. It had been five years. And in five years, the only thing Charlie ever did for his brother was to welcome him back into the family that he should never have left in the first place.

Charlie stared at the wall like he could somehow create a way to go back in time and save his brother from his fate.

He wished he had talked to Percy before. That he had not accepted the letters from his family stating that Percy was a traitor and a coward because he had been pompous at times, yes, an arse, sometimes, but he had never been a coward. And he didn’t understand how he didn’t realise that sooner. He should have. But he didn’t.

“What do we do now?” he asked his older brother

“I don’t know but I’m never letting him of my sight ever again”, replied Bill.

“Me too.” Agreed Charlie. And he drank his Firewhisky. His brother was his priority now. He loved his job with the dragons in Romania but he will gladly take his emergency leave for Percy.

They stayed silent, not looking at each other, too scared to see the pain they were feeling reflected on the face of the other.

“I’m scared Charlie,” confessed Bill suddenly. His voice was broken, and Charlie felt his heart broke once again. Because Bill was never supposed to sound broken. He was the oldest, the one who knew everything. But he was just Bill, the oldest of seven and a young dad of one little girl but he was not invincible.

“I’m scared that I- we will lose him. That we have already lost him”, continued Bill.

Charlie looked at the wall, trying to keep the tears at bay, but failing miserably if the wetness of his cheeks and the burn of his eyes were any indication.

“I’m scared too Bill” croacked Charlie “I’m scared that he will die. Every time I think about what he said, I see him on the floor, blood everywhere. Like the people in the Great Hall of Hogwarts after the fight. And I can’t-“ he chocked on a sob “I can’t see one of my siblings die. I can’t see him die.”

Bill hand grasped his, and he let the tears that he fought since the moment he stepped a foot on that cliff. That damn cliff where his life had been destroyed and where he saw his baby brother broke in a way he never could have imagined.

Percy never cried. Not like that. Sometimes he would see tears of frustration in his eyes when the twins made another prank that destroyed the essay he had been working on. Sometimes he saw his eyes sparkle with happy tears, when he got a new book or when he received his OWLS results. But he never cried like that. Like life was too much. Like all he felt was pain. Like he was dying.

Percy was never supposed to be hurt like that. He fought this war to make sure his siblings were safe. That they could live normally after the war. But he failed. Because Percy never got back to a normal life. He lived in pain for five years.

He was supposed to be safe. Like their parents made sure they were safe during the first war and after.

“I remember a bit of him as a baby you know. He was always smiling. When did he stop smiling Bill?”.

Bill didn’t answer. He couldn’t. And Charlie knew that. Because at one point Percy stopped smiling and they didn’t notice.

Notes:

So, my loves, I'm sorry it took me a bit of time to write another chapter.
I wanted to have a chapter without Percy to show the rest of the family's feelings
I'll try to keep working on this work but it'll be much longer than anticipated so for those of you who want to see Oliver: it'll take a while, I'm sorry for that
(Also: it's the 27th chapter and were are still on the same day than at the 6th chapter, can you believe it?)

Chapter 28

Summary:

Charlie's and Percy's relationship this time.
From Charlie's POV

Notes:

TW :
Mentions of injuries
Mentions of character death
Mentions of trauma
Mentions of depression

Bill had left, at one point, going to bed with his wife in his old room. Every Weasley had decided to stay at the Burrow for the night. After everything that happened, they didn’t want to part. Not when the scream and tears of Percy were imprinted on their mind.

Charlie was left alone in the living room, staring at the wall, his thoughts dulled a bit by the alcohol but not enough. He could still hear the screams of Percy. He could still think about his hands that shook every time he saw him for the last five years and now, he could almost feel the pain behind those tremors.

He heard what the Death Eaters did during the war. He saw the haunted eyes of Ginny after the Fight of Hogwarts. He saw the missing ear of George, differentiating the twins for the first time ever in the most gruesome way. He saw the way Fred stopped creating explosive devices, even the most mundane ones. He saw the scars on Bill’s body. He saw the way Ron would flinch almost all the time during the repair of Hogwarts and the way his eyes would become vacant every time he passed the courtyard where Harry’s body had been dumped.

And he saw the tremors in Percy’s hands. But for some unfathomable reason, he didn’t realise that those tremors were the mark of the war on his brother body. For some reason he saw the suffering of all the others, even the suffering of his parents, but he didn’t saw the suffering of his brother. The one that made him an older brother for the first time.

He could not understand how he didn’t see his suffering. The same way he didn’t understand how he missed the fact that his brother stopped smiling. Or talking. Or just existing. He didn’t understand how he let his brother fade into the background and kept on living his life, his brother cast away in his mind.

His sombre musings were interrupted by a creak from the staircase. He turned his head to see Percy entering silently the living room, eyes downcast.

He straightened up on the sofa, never taking his eyes off his brother. Percy raised his head and their eyes met. In his brother's blue eyes, Charlie saw sadness, surprise, incomprehension, and panic flash before ending with on an apologetic look, almost guilty to have been seen.

“You all right Perce?”, asked Charlie, softly, almost tentatively.

“Yeah, I was looking for my coat”, replied Percy softly, almost like he was sorry to be here.

Like he was sorry for existing, thought Charlie bitterly.

“Oh. Why?”

“Well. To go home.”, replied Percy

Home. That horrible small apartment, cold, with trash everywhere, a bed that looked almost ill, and mold on the floor. That apartment that looked nothing like Percy's. That looked… dead. But in the worst way possible. He could not let his little brother go back there. Not when everyone was here, at the Burrow. Not when everyone refused to leave the family home to be close with each other. Not when letting him go there felt like killing him.

“Stay”, replied Charlie, “Please”.

Percy looked at him strangely, like he was trying to decipher a puzzle or a very complex Arithmancy question. And then he asked:

“Why?”

“Because we… because we want to stay here, with you. For tonight at least. Please.”

Percy didn’t seem convinced.

“But I have work tomorrow.”

“You can still use the Floo from here. Go with Dad tomorrow.”

“But…”

“Please, Percy. We- I don’t want you to leave. Not… not right now. Please.”

“But why?”, asked Percy, confused.

“Because…”, started Charlie but he had no idea what he could say.

Because I’m afraid that if you leave I’ll never see you again? Because if you leave, I’m afraid you’ll die? Because if you leave I’m scared I’ll lose you forever?

“Because I don’t want you to leave”, was what Charlie replied.

“Yes, but why?”, asked Percy, who seemed more and more confused.

“Because I don’t want you to go back to your apartment. Not when it look like that!”, replied Charlie, tears of fear, sadness, guilt and frustration pooling in his eyes.

Percy’s eyes widen and on his too thin face they looked almost enormous, and Charlie felt sick again, because he always had been lanky and thin and all bone and no muscle but now he looked frail. And they did nothing. Because he was not talking, not smiling, not eating, doing everything to no exist and they let him do that. They let him trying to disappear. They let him hurt himself, they let him try to erase himself. And if he had died because of all that, how could they have lived with themselves, knowing they let him disappear?

“You saw my apartment?”, croaked fainty Percy.

And in the whole guilt-sadness-fear-frustration mix that was churning in Charlie stomach was added another layer of guilt. Because Percy looked devastated, and he hated to see that look on his face.

“Yeah we did, I… I’m sorry Perce…”

“I… You saw… everything?” Percy asked faintly

“Well, we didn’t enter but yeah, kind of. Like we saw the bed, the living room, and the kitchen.”

Percy looked ill. He was too pale. His hands where trembling harder. His chest was moving too fast.

“You saw. You saw. You saw.”, repeated Percy.

“I’m sorry Percy”, whispered Charlie, standing in front of his brother, “It was private. We should not have looked.”

“I… I… I…”, stuttered Percy, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for Perce?”, asked Charlie, coming closer to his panicking brother.

He looked like the wounded dragons in the reserved looked sometimes. The ones that had been hunted or kept as pets and tortured by their master.

“It’s a mess. I should have cleaned before.”

He was saying that like he hadn’t cleaned in a few days. But that apartment had look like it hadn’t been cleaned in months.

“It’s okay Perce”, replied Charlie before wrapping his arms around his trembling frame.

And he didn’t let go. He kept hugging his shivering brother, kissing softly the top of his head. And then, he slowly guided him to the couch, never letting him go.

And he let Percy cry a little in his arms, his breathing too quick, his hands shaking too much. He held his brother like he had the first time his mom had put him in his arms when he was four and Percy a few days old: he held him tenderly, with too much love, a bit scared of hurting him. But so, so glad to hold his brother for the first time in forever.

He held him with love and care and he tried, a little bit, to ease the guilt-sadness-fear mix that was churning in his gut and burning his eyes. Because Percy was here, he had not left. Because Percy was alive, he was not dead. Because he was here and he loved him. He never stopped loving him, but he had let him go. Of course, he had talked to him for the last five years, but, for the first time in almost forever, he felt he had his brother back. But Percy never left, it was him, that abandoned him. And he vowed on that couch, on that night, with his little brother in his arms, that he would do everything to make sure he kept his brother this time. Forever.

Notes:

Hello my loves, I hope you liked this chapter.

So the pacing is a bit slow, so I hope you're okay with it

I can't promise when the next chapter will be since it's not written yet but I hope I will have enough inspiration next week to write it. if not maybe in the next 15 days? Who knows.

Anyway, comments and kudos are very much appreciated

Love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 29

Summary:

Fred's POV

Notes:

TW :
Mentions of death

Every time Fred had to describe his big brothers he would always said: kind, funny and boring. In that very specific order.

Bill was kind. He was the oldest and he left for Hogwarts when he was only three years old so he mostly saw him during the holidays, but he was always kind and he listened to them with a big smile and always praised their pranks.

Charlie was funny. He left for Hogwarts when he was five years old, but before that he always played with them, always having the best ideas for games, and when he went to Hogwarts, every holiday he would talk about a friend he had, Tonks, that was so funny.

Percy was boring. He was the closest to him and George, age-wise, and he was always scolding. Always telling them that their pranks were stupid, or going to Mom to tell on them and he never wanted to play in the garden with them.

During the war, a lot of things changed. One of them was how he described his big brothers. He said : protective, brave, and coward. In that very specific order.

Bill was protective. He risked his life as a Curse breaker before, but during the war, he was always checking on them. More since they had got their Prank shop.

Charlie was brave. He was living in Romania with dragons, but spent a lot of time travelling in Europe to gather wizards and witches to help defeat the Dark Lord.

Percy was a coward. He went to work at the Ministry and forgot about his family, choosing power over family, money over blood.

And after the war and during the five years that lead to this day, he would describe his big brothers by saying: soft, boisterous and traitor. In that very specific order he had always used.

But today, lying on his bed in his old childhood home, looking at the ceiling, he felt like an asshole. It wasn’t a felling he got frequently and he hated that. But he hated even more the fact that his older brother wanted to die.

Percy was not a traitor. He hadn’t chosen power over family. He had chosen to fight for what was right. And he had been hurt. And during the last five years since the war had ended, Fred didn’t think for one day that his older brother was anything else than a traitor, a coward, a boring nuisance. He had called him a “Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron” when he had been a courageous, brave, self-sacrificing idiot. Because he had sacrificed his life to save many, and he didn’t tell them. He spent the last five years pretending to have been the idiot and power-hungry fool they accused him of being.

In the darkness of his room, lying on his bed, Fred clenched his jaw to stop himself of screaming. Why hadn’t he said something before? Why had he waited for Hermione of all people to bring up his bravery for them to see it?

He didn’t understand how he could have been so blind. He didn’t even remember how all this had started. They came back for the Winter Break, and then Percy said he had gotten a promotion and then everything went wrong. But Fred could not remember why or how. In the end, Percy left, and Fred swore that he would never talk to his brother ever again.

But then knowing that he might have died during the War? That was horrifying. Because he could not imagine a world where they would be six and not seven. A world where there would be an empty chair forever at the dining table. A world where he would have only two big brothers. Because even if he hated Percy, or thought he did, he didn't want him to be dead.

“Fred?”

A voice broke into his mussing, and he turned his head towards George, that was looking at him with wide eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” asked George

“No. You?”

“No.”

They looked at each other, silently. They were twins, always had a feeling that they understood each other better than the rest of them. They could convey feelings and ideas with one look and were almost inseparable. Tonight, though felt different. They both felt like there was a sort of heaviness between them, like they could not really tell how the other felt, too lost in their own feelings.

Learning that they could have lost a brother would do that to someone. Learning that after the War they could have been six and not seven was terrifying. But knowing the ways their brother suffered was worse in a way. Because he was still here. And they didn’t protect him.

“I’m scared” suddenly confessed George.

Fred cocked an eyebrow and even in the darkness of the room George saw it.

“I’m scared he will die”, clarified George.

“He will not die”, replied automatically Fred. Because he could not think of the fact that his brother might die.

“But he’s so hurt, Freddie. He’s too thin.”

“He will not die”, repeated Fred. Because he didn’t want to think of the possibility that one day he would wake up and there would be only six of them. That one day, he would only have a grave to look at, and not a brother.

“I’m scared.”, whispered George.

Knowing they could lose him one day was terrifying. It was almost worse than learning on that cliff that he had been tortured. Fred didn’t want to think about it. But his apartment, his tears at the dinner table, his too-big robes and too-thin legs, and his hollowed cheeks and dark circles under his eyes and his shaky hands, everything was a reminder that Percy was hurt. Too much. And that hurt could lead to something irreparable.

“I’m scared too”, whispered softly Fred.

Because he had to be honest. The fears that George had, he had them too. He just didn’t want to acknowledge them. Not really. Because then, it would become true. And that was utterly terrifying.

They lay there, in silence for a long time. And then George sat up on his bed and whispered:

“I want to check on him”.

Fred turned his head towards his twin and asked:

“Right now?”

“Yes. Can you come with me, please?”

Fred turned his head towards the ceiling and sighed.

“Yes, alright, I’ll come with you.”

They grabbed a jumper and left their room. And as they made their way towards Percy’s room, they heard footsteps on the stairs. And Charlie appeared, holding Percy in his arms, head rolled toward his chest, unmoving. And Fred almost fell to the floor. Because it looked like he was dead, and Charlie’s eyes were red and.

And he felt Goerge hand in his. And Charlie whispered:

“Oh, what are you doing up?”

“We wanted to check on Percy”, whispered George, but his voice was strange. Like he was terribly upset.

“Oh.”, replied Charlie, “Well, he fell asleep downstairs, and I didn’t want him to sleep on the couch, so I’m bringing him up to his room”.

And then he turned and pushed Percy’s door room open. Effortlessly. Like Percy weighted nothing. And he might weigh nothing, judging by how big his jumper looked on him.

Charlie put down Percy gently on his bed, taking off his belt and covering him with the blankets. And he put his hand gently on top of Percy’s, looking at him with so much tenderness and despair. And then he left the room, turning towards the twins that were hovering by the door.

“Is he ok?”, asked faintly George. He sounded so terrified, so sad. Like he had when Ginny went missing in Fourth Year. Or when Ron had been set in the infirmary in Third Year, cuts everywhere on his body and his leg broken.

"He will be," Charlie replied softly. But that was the problem, wasn't it? He'll be fine. In some unspecified future. But for now, he was not fine. And that was the problem. Because he wasn't, and if this day hadn't come, when would they have realised?

“I’m scared”, whispered Fred softly, almost brokenly. He could not stop the words spilling from his lips. He was scared. Scared that one day he would wake up with four brothers and not five. That one day he would wake up and they would be six and not seven. That one day he would look at a grave with Percy’s name on it.

And Charlie wrapped his arms around him. And then George joined them. And he felt like crying.

Notes:

Alright, I'm late, sorry my loves

So we are slowly moving toward the next day. For those of you that want to see Oliver, you'll have to wait i'm afraid

As usual comments and kudos are very welcome

Chapter 30

Summary:

George's POV

We are know the next day! It took 24 chapters to arrive to this day but here we are!

Notes:

TW : Mentions of depression

One thing about George is how he cares. Yes, he doesn’t show it with grand gestures or proclamations, but he does care. He cares with smiles and funny jokes and hugs. He isn’t like Bill, who cares with softness and tenderness. He isn’t like Charlie who cares with big hugs and punches. He isn’t like Fred who care with pranks and laughs. He isn’t like Ron, who cares with food and blankets. He isn’t like Ginny who care with punches and laughs.

And he surely is not like Percy who care with hugs, tenderness, soft smiles and soft voice.

He cares with smiles so big they hurt and jokes so funny they made you cry. He doesn’t try to soften the blow like Bill or Ron. He doesn’t try to defend from the threat like Ginny or Charlie. He’s more like Fred, trying to help you forget about the pain.

But he’s not exactly like Fred. He doesn’t need explosion and glitter to help people forget. He does it in a softer way.

In a way, he is more like Percy. Trying to be gentle and help you forget what hurt you. But Percy was always softer than him. He’s a bit too much sometimes. But he helps. Well, he tries.

One day, when he was nine and Ron was seven, Ron came crying. Percy had left for Hogwarts and suddenly he and Fred were the big ones, the big brothers, the one the little look up to. So, when Ron came crying in the twins room, George was here. Fred was somewhere in the house looking for something for their next prank, George didn’t remember what. But Ron came, crying. And so, as his big brother he helped. He didn’t remember what made Ron cry in the first place, but he remembered how Ron had laughed and how big his smile was.

Somehow, he had always found a was to help other by making them laugh. But now, he didn’t know how to help. Because Percy was so far away. So out of reach.

Last night, Charlie had brought him up the stairs, his too thin frame curled onto Charlie’s arms. And George had felt like he was drowning. The guilt, sadness and fear coiled into his stomach and clenched around his heart and flowed into his lungs. And he felt so lost. Because the only way he knew how to help was with smiles and jokes. He didn’t know how to help tenderly, softly, like he was approaching a wounded animal.

Today, sitting at the breakfast table, he looked into his tea that was slowly cooling and he wanted to cry. Because he didn’t know how to help. And he hated that.

He hated the fact that Percy had made him feel useless and he hated the fact that he hated Percy.

He hated the fact that his brother looked like he was dying, and he hated the fact that he hated Percy.

He hated the fact that everyone seemed drowned in grief, and he hated the fact that he hated Percy.

Percy, who looked at his toast with vacant eyes and hollowed cheeks and shaky hands.

Before breakfast, Bill had gathered all the Weasley siblings, and he had explained why his hands shook all the time. And George had wanted to scream. He wanted to run to Percy and scream at him to know why he didn’t tell them before. Why he had let himself to be so hurt? Why he had let himself wither away. Why was he making them suffer in grief and shame? And then he had wanted to cry because he didn’t want to hate Percy. He wanted him to smile and laugh and hug them again like he had when Ron had been sent in the Hospital Wing when he was in first year and his arms and legs were bandaged. Like he had when Ginny went missing in her first year and they though she was dead.

He was looking at Percy and he wanted to cry.

“We’re going to the Ministry together today then Percy?”, asked Dad.

Percy turned his head towards their dad, and George wanted to scream, because Percy eyes where too big in his face and too empty.

“Yes, I guess.”, replied Percy before looking back at his toast.

“You’re not eating dear?” asked their mom.

“I don’t know.”, replied Percy and his eyes were too empty.

The thing about Percy’s eyes was that they never used to be empty. He was pompous, arrogant, a know-it-all, but his eyes were always shining with new ideas, new obsessions, new thoughts. His blue eyes were always alive. And now they looked dead.

“You need to eat dear”, replied their mom.

“Oh.”, replied Percy. Wrong. Empty. Sad. Dead.

He took his toast and slowly started to eat. Before, he would have eaten it without thinking and would have eaten three more after. Now, he ate slowly, like he thought so much about each bite.

It was horrible watching him like that. George hated it. Hated to see his big brother so fragile. When had he started to eat like that? For how long had he missed that? For how long had he cast his big brother away in his mind? He knew he hated the way he spoke to them when they were children like he was so much better than them. He knew he hated the way he would always scream at them when they ruined his “holiday work”. He knew he hated when he would lecture them when he became a Prefect and even before that. But he knew that he hated even more the fact that this part of him had disappeared.

He hated the fact that Percy was so hurt that he let himself disappear and he hated even more the fact that they let him disappear.

He wanted his big brother back. Even if it was one of his boring lectures about how you should not prank people. Because he would like one of his lectures ten thousand times over that. Over the shell of who he used to be.

So he took a deep breath and asked:

“Percy?”

“Yes?”,

“Do you want to come to our shop this afternoon? After your work. I wanted to have your opinion on one of our product. You could test it on me if you want.”

And the looked Percy gave him hurt. Because Percy should not look so surprised and a little in awe of the fact that George had simply asked him that.

“You want my opinion?” asked Percy softly.

“Yeah”,

“But why?”, and oh, this hurt so much. Because he should not have looked so surprised.

“Because you always have good opinions, and you make great reviews”. And that was the truth, because contrary to any of his other siblings, Percy was honest. He was not too kind like Bill and Charlie and not to harsh like Ron and Ginny. He was always completely honest. If it was good, it was good and if it was bad, it was bad and that was it. He always took the time to explain why.

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

And that was worse than anything. Because he told him. Right?

“Yeah well. You’re always honest and nice about it so…”

“Oh. Alright.”

“I’ve told you before no?”

“No. But it’s fine”.

And George wanted to scream. And punch something. Because it wasn’t fine. And it was his fault because he never told his brother that he did good. That he liked what he did. And it suddenly occurred to him that he might have never told his brother thank you. And he wanted to scream again.

“I’ll come by at five thirty, would that be alright?”

And he sounded wrong. Too detached, too absent.

But George replied softly:

“Yeah, it’s perfect, thanks Perce.”

And the look of utter disbelief on his face was painful. Because he should not have been so surprised by a simple thank you. And George wanted to punch something, but mostly himself. He did that to his brother. Whatever the Death-Eater did to Percy, he was the one who ignored his brother. And he hated the fact that he felt guilt and shame coil into his stomach. And he hated a bit Percy for making him feel that way. But he hated even more the fact that he felt anger and hate towards his brother.

But he smiled and looked at Percy who resumed eating slowly his toast. And he hoped that one day, he would eat four pieces of toast without thinking.

Notes:

Two chapter on a row, I'm on fire these days!

Hoped you liked this chapter.

I will do Ron next and then Ginny so I hope you can be patient with me, and for those of you that want more romance, you'll have to wait again I'm afraid. This work his mostly about Percy's depression so I would like for him to heal a bit before throwing him into a relationship. But Oliver will arrive at some point don't worry about it.

Kudos and comments are very welcome as usual

Chapter 31

Summary:

Did I write plot and not feels this time? Maybe.

Ron's POV

Notes:

TW : Mention of death
Mention of depression
Mention of suicide

Today, they were five that used the Floo to go to the Ministry. Dad, Bill, Percy, Hermione, and himself. And as they entered the busy Atrium of the Ministry, Ron had only eyes for Percy. Normally he would look at Hermione, kiss her goodbye, and rush toward his office to meet with James, his Auror partner. But today he looked at Percy, the way his shoulders hunched slightly, the way his eyes cast downwards, the way he made himself smaller.

Yesterday had been one of the worst days of Ron’s life. And he was counting the time when Harry died, when Hermione was tortured, and the numerous times he and his lovers risked their lives. Yesterday he learned that the brother he despised, the one he never really forgave for the betrayal during the war and the letter he sent him telling him to stay away from Harry, the one that was the worst brother he had, was not what he seemed. He was courageous, self-sacrificing, protective. He was a hero. And Ron could not really reconcile the image he had of Percy for almost 7 years and the one he truly was.

Yesterday, he felt like something in him died when he learned about the torture. He felt like something broke irrevocably and the grief that plagued him was now too much. He hated that Percy had suffered, and he hated the fact that he didn’t protect him.

But what he hated even more was the fact that for a short instant, for a second, he thought that he deserved it somehow. Like the fact he had abandoned the family, making their Mom cry and their Dad sad, telling him to forget about Harry, working for a Ministry that despised people like Hermione, that everything was somehow deserving of a punishment. And then he hated himself even more and grief drowned everything. Because Percy was a hero. Percy had saved people. Percy had been hurt. And most importantly Percy was his brother. And he had forgotten that he loved him.

But then, hearing the pain, despair, sadness and grief that plagued his brother, hurt. His brother, the one that taught him how to read because Mom was too busy with the twins, the one that came into his room every time there was a thunderstorm, the one that read to him stories with his soft voice, the one that rushed into the Hospital wing after the events of First Year, the one that step in front of him when Sirius Black attacked the Tower, the one that rushed to his side to help him out of the water in the Triwizard Tournament, the one that loved him unconditionally and that he hated because he was a prat.

He hated him. He loved him. Some people say that hate is the closest thing to love. And maybe they are right. Because he never really wanted to forget about Percy, he wanted him to exist. But since he could not love him, he hated him. In a way, he never hated him, he mostly convinced himself that he hated him. Because it was easier to deal with the pain that way. The pain that he had lost his brother during the War and that he never fully returned.

But now he understood how much he loved him. And how horrible it would be to lose him.

He didn’t realise he had arrived in his office until James' voice startled him:

“Hey mate! How you doin’? Spend a nice Sunday with your family?”

And Ron wanted to say something normal, like “Yes, a nice day” or “Yes, Mom made Sheperd Pie” or “Yes, and you?”. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Not when one of his brothers told them how he had been tortured for hours. How he wanted to die. How he still wanted to die. How his hands would forever shake because he had been a hero.

“No, fuck no”, replied Ron, and he let himself fall into a chair.

“What? What happened?”

“You know my brother?”,

“Which one mate? You’ve like a thousan’”

“Percy”

“Ah. The traitor one?”

“Yes. And he’s not a traitor”, whispered Ron and he felt the tears well up in his eyes.

“What ya mean?”

“He saved people, during the War. Muggleborns and Half-blood”.

“Fuck? Really?”

“Yeah. Almost 200 people”.

“Fuck.”

Ron didn’t reply. He was trying to keep the tears at bay, and mostly failing, judging by the way his vision blurred.

“And how is it a bad thing?”, asked James.

“Because he was found by Death-Eater at the end of the War”, croaked Ron.

“Fuck. Fuck”.

“They tortured him for hours. Fuck I…”, and Ron could not contain the tears anymore.

The tears of grief, of sadness, of fear, and of shame. The tears that had built up since he saw Percy’s apartment. The tears that he fought during dinner. The tears he had desperately tried to contain when Bill had told them about his hands. The tears he could not contain anymore. Because he loved Percy. And Percy had been hurt. And he hurt with him.

James was patting him awkwardly on the back while he wept. He cried for all the times he hated Percy. He cried for the pain he felt during the torture. He cried for all the times he loved Percy. And he cried because Percy was his brother, and he could not imagine a world where one of his siblings would not be here.

He was still sobbing into his hands when his boss, Robards, entered the office with a stack of files in his hands. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the picture of Ron, crying into his hands, and James, awkwardly comforting him.

“Weasley? Marlowe? What happened?”

“Chief! Hey! Hum… Ron had some bad news during the week-end?”, replied James

“What sort of bad news?”

“Uh well…”, started James.

“About my brother”, replied Ron, that looked at his boss with blood shot eyes.

“Oh. Hope it’s not too bad.”, replied Robards awkwardly.

Ron looked like he could start crying all over again.

“My brother had been tortured by Death Eater during the War. Because he helped Muggleborns escape”.

The look on Robards’ face would have been almost comical if Ron wasn’t on a verge of another breakdown.

“He what?”, shouted Robards.

“He was tortured. For helping Muggleborns’ escape.”, repeated Ron.

“How many did he helped ?”

“Almost 200”, replied faintly Ron.

Robards then sat down heavily in a chair, his face pale, and asked:

"Do you know the name of any of them?" asked Robards and Ron looked puzzled at the Head Auror.

“I don’t remember, but Hermione might know. Why?”.

“Because… well it’s better if I show you. Come with me”. and Robards left without looking behind him.

Ron and James followed him, and Ron wondered what that was about. Hearing about the horror of war, the Head-Auror was familiar with it. Since the end of the war, he spent more time trying to find the remnant Death-Eater and fighting against the Neo-Death-Eater, than really dealing with the common criminality that never seemed to stop. But fighting against Death-Eaters and trying to bring them to justice meant discovering new horrors every day.

They entered the room and Robards grabbed a file. That was more a book than a file at that point. He gave it to Ron and said:

“Read it.”

And so Ron did. Inside, there were hundreds of identity papers, reports on Muggleborns' activities, and notes on Death-eaters' plans. Everything that could prove the identity of spies in the Ministry, for both the light and dark sides. Everything that proved how much the Ministry had failed during the war. And all of them were signed by the same name. Odysseus Stoath.

Robards spoke to him, but Ron didn’t hear one thing he said. Because even if the name was different, he knew only one person who would write the “t” this way. Or who would accentuate this way the “a”, making them almost look like an “o”. Only one person and this person was currently sitting silently at a desk in the depths of the Ministry.

Because even if he hadn’t read that writing in almost seven years, he knew it because it was the same writing that he read every day during his childhood when they were learning English, mathematics, and a bit of magic at the dining table of the Burrow. It was the same writing that adorned the books he had been passed on when he started Hogwarts.

It was the writing of Percy.

And judging by everything in this folder, Percy had done way more than save people during the War. He had prepared for the repairs after the War. He had prepared everything to save the Ministry. And Ron felt like crying one more time. Because his brother was not just one hero. He was a Hero, with a capital H, in the same way Harry was a Hero. In the same way Hermione was a Hero. In the same way Neville was a Hero. In the same way he, himself, was a Hero. The only difference? That Percy had spent the last five years in the shadows while everyone thought of him as a traitor, while the rest of them had spent them in the light, praised for having saved the world.

But he never had been a traitor in the first place. He tried to save everyone. And he lost himself in the process. And Ron wanted to cry. Because he had hated Percy for nothing. And he would have lost him thinking of him as a traitor while he had done everything he could to save everyone. Everyone except himself. And Ron cried again. Because he had almost lost Percy. Because in a way he had lost him. The boy who fought a war on his own had come back a broken man. The brother that went to war hadn’t returned. Who had returned was a broken, empty man that sat silently at his desk in the Ministry, wishing he had died instead of his best friend and letting his life slowly wither away, looking at his nightmares and the darkness that plagued his mind and wishing they would envelop them and take him away.

Notes:

Alright my loves, today I give you plot.
We are slowly going into the second and last part of this work and then I will work on the next part of this series.

Please tell me what you thought of this chapter.

Kudos are very welcome (as well as comments)

Love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 32

Summary:

Ginny's POV

Notes:

TW : Mentions of depression

Being a Quidditch player in the off-season means three things: less intensive training, lots of free time, and being able to stay at home in peace.

Ginny and Luna lived in a cottage in Scotland, connected to the Floo, surrounded by a huge garden. Their neighbours were an elderly couple on the right and a single man on the left, who didn't go out much but regularly gave the two young women fresh produce from his garden.

Normally, during the off-season, Ginny would spend a lot of time walking in the Scottish countryside, reading books in their living room, and cooking delicious stew, following the recipes of her mother, leaving the baking to Luna. But since yesterday and the revelations about her big brother, Ginny had elected to stay at the Burrow. Which was a very good and also a very bad idea.

It was a good idea because she could spend time with Percy, which was the main reason she had decided to stay here, and it was a bad idea because she was now standing in Percy's old room, and she wanted to scream.

She was a Quidditch player, a Chaser, a hero of the Second Wizarding War, an only girl in a family full of boys. She was supposed to be strong. She was not supposed to fight her tears in her big brother's bedroom, looking at the emptiness of the room.

She didn’t know what she hated the most: the emptiness of this room or the chaos and despair in his flat. In both, she could feel death. She could see the way he wasn’t living in those spaces but merely existing. She could smell the way death had permeated every surface. She could hear despair and the screams of silence. She could touch the despair and loneliness. She could taste the bitter taste of darkness and death.

She was five when he left for Hogwarts and when he left, she cried. Because Bill was never here, Charlie too. And now Percy would be gone for months. And at the great age of five years old, she knew that it was almost forever. She cried because who would read her stories when she could not sleep? Who could she wake up in the middle of the night if she had a bad dream, even with the charm of the house? Because she was too big to go see Mom and Dad and if she did, the twins would tease her mercilessly. So, she had to go see Percy. He was the only one who would accept her in his bed and just. Be here. Not talking, not asking for anything. Just being here. Like he could protect her if needed.

When she was five, she thought he could protect the whole world with his big blue eyes and soft smile. She had been a child at the time. One who thinks that the older ones are so much stronger than her. That the older ones are all brave, all protective, all soft and warm.

And now, sixteen years later, she knew she had been right. And she hated she had been right. Because she would have preferred a coward brother to a broken one. She would have preferred a safe brother to a self-sacrificing one. She would have preferred to have her brother and not the shell of him.

This morning, when she woke up in the arms of Luna, she thought that yesterday was the worst day of her life. That seeing her big brother so broken, so hurt, was the worst thing she could live. But when Bill had explained to them, softly, like they were little, fragile, wary animals, that the way Percy’s hand shook was a lasting effect of his torture she had wanted to destroy everything. She wanted to destroy everyone that ever dared touch one of her brothers and then she had wanted to destroy that stupid Ministry that ostracized her brother. That kept her brother away from her for so long. And she had wanted to destroy herself for not acting sooner.

Downstairs, their mom was frantically cleaning and cooking and knitting. Thank Merlin for magic, otherwise their mom would have not been able to do everything she wanted to do before supper. But Ginny had fled the minute her mom had started her frenzy. She loved her, but the way her mom grieved was not the way she grieved.

She hated the way she was grieving for Percy. Percy, that was not dead. Not yet, her mind supplied unhelpfully. And she almost threw something across the room. But what could she throw? One of Percy’s old ink bottles? Or the only pillow in his bed. The too-thin blanket on his bed, even though it was spring, and they had heavier and fluffier blankets in the house?

Why did he have to live like he was already dead? Why did he have to be a ghost in his own body? Why did he have to make them grieve him while he was still alive?

“Hullo love, said a dreamy voice in her back, how are you doing?”

She didn’t have to turn to know that Luna was behind her. She could feel her magic, smell her flowery perfume, and hear the soft clinking of her earrings.

“I don’t know”, replied softly Ginny

“That alright. Why are you in Percy’s room.”

“I don’t know. I wanted to feel him I guess?”

“That’s good. Are you feeling him?”

“No.”

“Alright. You’ll feel him later.”

“I you say so.”, replied Ginny glumly

“Do you want to go in the garden? There are some very pretty flowers.”

Ginny hummed and she followed her girlfriend into the garden. And by the garden, Ginny meant the fields that were all around the Burrow. They walked silently until Lun found the right flower and they sat to watch it. Ginny was almost glaring at the softly pink petals, slightly fuchsia at the tip.

“What are you thinking?” asked Luna without looking at her.

“Percy.”, replied Ginny curtly

“Alright. And what do you think of him?”

“I hate him.”, spat Ginny.

“No you don’t”, replied Luna in her soft, dreamy voice.

And then something broke in Ginny. Something she had tried to keep together with anger, hate, and resentment. Something about the fact that she had lost her brother during the war. Something about the love she had for her brother that never faded but she merely chose to ignore it. Something about the fact that she tried to stay strong for everyone and mostly herself.

But now she could feel. She could cry and scream and let the grief envelop her. She could love her brother again and hate herself for forgetting about him.

Why couldn’t she see it herself? That he had been hurt? That he fought? How did she even believe that he could betray them in the first place? Yes, he was pompous and boring during his Hogwarts years, but he had never been a coward, nor a traitor. He had placed himself in front of them when Sirius Black attacked the Tower. He had rushed to Ron when he was rescued from the Lake in his fourth year, during the Triwizard Tournament. He spent hours helping Luna looking for her things when he was a Prefect then Headboy. So why did she think Percy could ever be a coward? A traitor?

She cried for the brother she lost. For the one she forgot about. For the one she thought she hated. She cried for all the time she spent ignoring him. She cried for the pain he felt and the pain she wanted to protect him from. She cried for everything she lost and everything she almost lost. She cried for the War. For before and after. She cried for all the little things from her childhood and all the little things of her life as a hero, as a Quidditch player. She cried for everything and nothing at the same time.

And in the middle of the field, surrounded by flowers, she wept and felt everything she never let herself feel before.

Chapter 33

Summary:

Percy's POV
And a bit of Percy and his dad relationship because I crave soft and healthy relationship with parents and parental figures

Notes:

TW : Depression
Suicidal thought
Mentions of death

He was sitting silently at his desk, looking at the wall but not seeing it. It was 10:43 and he had finished his job for the day. His boss never gave him a lot to do. Percy never really understood why. He suspected it was because he was never fully here when he was at work. He did the work but all he could think about was the room two floors below where Penny had died.

She had been twenty-one years old when she died.

She was born nine days after him. Funnily enough, Percy was slightly premature and should have been born on the 31st of August. The same day Penny was born. She always joked about it since she found out in First Year. Saying they were twins from different mothers. She always had that thing about soulmates, and finding the right person for you, and the destinies and the universe.

They used to say they were soulmates. But not in the romantic sense of the way. In the way, they had always been destined to be friends. To be a part of each other. Be a part of their life. They had plans. Plans that they made lying on the grass in front of the Black Lake during the weekends. Plans they whispered to each other during the Prefect patrols. Plans they said to each other during the dark times of the war.

Plans that would never happen. Because of him and his cowardice. If he had just said he was the one who did it. If he had just sent away Penny with her family before they were found out. If he had just been more careful during the war. If he had just been better.

He was a failure. He was a coward. He should be just dead.

Penny was so bright, so intelligent, so nice, so kind. She should be the one alive today, not him. Not this stupid failure, coward, moron, idiot.

She died so he could live. But she should not have. He should have died so she could live. That was the plan all along. She was supposed to be free. She was always supposed to be free. And instead, he let her die. He killed her because he was not enough. He was never enough.

If he had been enough, Penny would not have died. If he had been enough, there would not be a constant clue to differentiate the twins. If he had been enough, Bill's face would not adorn those scars. If he had been enough, Ron would not have been sent to the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. If he had been enough, Ginny would not have faced Death. If he had been enough, Dad would not have ended in St Mungo. If he had been enough, Mom would not have cried. If he had been enough, they would all be happy.

If he had been enough, he would not be here anymore.

It was 11 o’clock and he was sitting in a dusty office in the Ministry, waiting to go home and staring at the wall, trying not to hear the sobs of Penny or the shouts of the Death Eaters.

The wall was a dark grey colour. It was too dark for this office, but it was fitting for Percy. A too dark, too cold place. After all, he was always cold.

The desk was made of oak. Its brownish colour was faded by time. It was an ugly desk, but he didn’t care. It was just a desk. And he was just a lowly ministry worker.

The wooden floor was dusty and stained. It was old and damaged. But it was somehow comforting. It was damaged and ugly, and no one liked this office because of the creaky flooring but Percy liked it. Or maybe not. Maybe it was just that he didn’t care.

“Percy?”, asked a soft voice, startling him slightly. Nobody ever came into his office during the day.

He turned his head and saw his father standing in the doorway, a soft smile on his lips and shiny eyes. He looked almost sad this way.

“Yes?”, answered Percy in a soft whisper.

“I wanted to see if you want to eat with me today. Your mom made sandwiches.”

Percy looked a bit confused.

“But she made them for you.”, he replied, puzzled.

“Oh, she made plenty enough for the both of us. You want to eat outside? It’s sunny today.”

“Alright.”, whispered Percy and he stood up, grabbing his wand.

His hands were shaking a lot as he grabbed his coat and his dad looked at them with pain and sadness in his eyes.

They walked towards the entrance of the Ministry in silence. Percy was looking at the floor. The wooden floor was shinier and lighter than the one in his office.

Once outside, his dad guided him towards a bench in the nearby park and they sat down silently. Arthur opened the bundle of sandwiches made by Molly and gave one to Percy who took it with both hands that were shaking almost uncontrollably.

“Thanks”, whispered Percy and he took a small bite. Too small bite.

“You’re welcome, Percy”, replied his dad, grabbing a sandwich for himself.

For a while they ate silently, Arthur eating three sandwiches while Percy slowly finished one. The hands in his lap were shaking a bit less than before, but still too much. And then Arthur asked:

“I never asked before, and I feel that I should have, but… why are your hands shaking so much?”

Percy turned his head towards his dad. It felt like a deja vu from yesterday's conversation with Bill. But somehow, with his dad, it felt more terrifying. Or maybe it was because it was during the day. Or maybe because it was in public. Or maybe it was all of the above.

“It’s nerve damage from the Cruciatus curse”, he replied softly, “my hands… they didn’t resist.”.

And his dad let out a gasp that was almost a sob and a pained cry.

And then, his dad was holding him for the first time in forever, and Percy wanted to cry.

“Oh, my boy. Oh, my sweet boy.”

His dad was holding him like he was precious. Like he was afraid that if he let go, Percy would shatter on the floor. But his embrace was soft and light. Like he was afraid he would hurt him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. My boy.”

His dad kissed his hair, and he wanted to sob. His arms were shaking, and his body was shaking, and he wanted to cry and sob into his father’s arms.

“My son. My baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”.

He was crying. Or maybe not. But his cheeks were damp, and his hands were clutching his dad’s jumper, and his body was trembling.

“I’m here. Daddy’s here. I’ve got you. Daddy’s got you Perce. It’s okay, I’m here.”

His dad was kissing his hair and gently caressing his back and holding him close. Like he used to do it before he went to Hogwarts. Like he used to do it every time they were scared or sad or angry or feeling too much. Like he used to do it when they were small enough to sit on his lap.

“I’m here Perce, I’m here. It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

His dad’s hands were warm on his back, and he was not so cold anymore.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe. I love you.”

His whole body was hugged by his father’s arms, and he felt like a little boy.

“I love you so much. I love you son. I’m here. It’s okay”.

His Dad was here, and he was not so cold anymore.

Notes:

Alright, it's been a while my darlings and today I give you a angsty Percy with a bittersweet and lovely relationshp between him and his dad.
The plot should move on during the next chapters but I fear it'll be a long while before I conclude this part of the story and move on onto the second instalment of this series

As usual, kudos are very much appreciated and comments give me life so please do comment I love seeing what you thought of this story so far

With Love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 34

Summary:

Angsty chapter with a beautiful father/son relationship

Notes:

TW : Panic attack
Workplace harassment
Dissociative episode after a panic attack

Crying in his dad’s arm felt strangely nice. Maybe because he was just floating a bit, like all his emotions that were always too much were, for once, muted. They were still here, just not omnipresent. And it felt strangely nice.

He felt like a child, but not in a bad way. The way a child feels after a nightmare when their parents are holding them, shielding them from all the bad in the world. The way a child feels when their parents' arms are holding them and they just feel safe. He felt safe right now, even if he didn’t really believe it, he felt it. It had been so long since he felt safe. But yesterday he had felt safe. He had also been in so much pain, but he had felt safe.

He didn’t know how much time passed before he felt that he could leave his father's embrace but it might not have been very long. His father would not have let him miss work. And he, himself, would not have missed work. He had an important position in the Ministry now. Perks of having been on the right side of the War.

They stayed silent and his dad gave him his sandwich back. He could barely finish it. He was never hungry, but after crying he was even less. His father waited silently until he was finished and then he softly asked:

“You’re ready to go back to the Ministry?”

Percy nodded and he followed his father towards the Ministry entrance. Along the way, his dad asked:

“You’re still going to see the twins after you’re finished with your work?”

“Yeah, I guess”, replied softly Percy

“You know, you don’t have to go see them. They’ll understand.”, said his dad

“No. I want to see them.”, replied Percy, “It’s just…”

“It’s just… ?”, asked his father

“Nothing. It’s not important”

“No, no Percy, tell me. You can tell me, it’s okay”, replied his dad, stopping on the sidewalk.

“It’s just that I’m already finished for the day. So it’s just that, I’ll go see them at 5:30, as I said. Just. Not because I’ve finished. But because I can leave at five.”

His father was looking at him strangely and asked in a confused voice:

“What do you mean you’re already finished for the day?”

“Well… Mr Stokes doesn’t give me much work, so I’m always finished early.”

“But why? And he let you leave once you’re finished?”

“I don’t know. I think he believe I’m not competent enough. But I have to stay until five every day.”

His father face showed a series of complicated emotions he could not understand but when it finally settled, his face was hard, determined. Bill had somehow the same face when he had an idea and was preparing to persue it. Ron too. That was funny, how such little things were the same in multiple people in the same family. People always said that their family was easily recognisable because they had the same fiery red hair. But Percy knew that was made them so recognisable was the way their faces looked when they were determined, angry, sad or happy. When they were determined, there would be a slight crease between the eyebrows. When they were angry, their lips would be pressed into a thin line. When they were sad, their eyes would widen. And when they were happy, their eyes would be shining.

And today, his father had a slight crease between the eyebrows and his hands were clenched at his side. And he said:

“Come with me.”

And he followed. They entered the Ministry, his father paying no mind to the buzzying atrium and went directly to the lift. Both of them left the lift at Percy level and his father marched into his boss office.

Somehow, Percy knew he should not protest despite wanting to. The way his father shoulders tensed when he entered the office told him to just stay quiet. Not that it was difficult to begin with. After all this time he had learn that talking only lead to more pain. So he kept silent most of the time, having generally nothing of importance to tell. He didn’t want to be a nuisance.

“Stokes.”, his father said. His voice was cold and autoritative.

His father voice was rarely authoritative. And it was never cold. His father was soft. Too soft sometimes for the Ministry where he worked. But now his voice was cold. And it felt strange, hearing his father voice sounding cold.

“Weasley”, replied Stokes surprised and then coldly, “Percival”.

“My son will take is afternoon.”, said his father. It was not a question. It was not demanding. It was an order.

Stokes left eyes twitched.

“He will not. He has to stay until five.”

“He has finished his work. He will leave.”

“Is that so?”, replied Stokes hautingly. “I doubt it.”

His father’s lips were pressed in a thin line. And he replied:

“He has finished his work and he will leave.”

“With all due respect Arthur”, replied slowly Stokes, “I highly doubt that your son could have finished all the work I’ve assigned him for the day in only four hours. He’s not the most… competent worker”, he added, like Percy was not in the room.

Maybe he had just forget. After all he did everything so that nobody ever noticed him. He tried to become invisible so maybe he had succeded after all. That would be the first time he would succeed in something.

“My son is very competent. And right here Stokes.”

Stokes turn his head towards Percy and said:

“Percival. Go wait outside, I need to speak with your father”.

As if Percy was just a child in school and the Headmaster wanted to speak with his father about a mistake he made. As if he was just Arthur’s child and not a whole person.

But Percy complied. That was what he was best for after all.

He closed the door after himself but The door was to thin to block the sounds. Or maybe Stokes wanted him to hear what he was about to say without saying it in front of him.

“Arthur, I'm going to be honest with you. You fought in the war and it's out of respect for you that I'm telling you this. But your son, he's not the smartest or the most gifted person I know. Honestly, it's a miracle he's even able to finish his day's work in time. He spends all his time looking at the wall and does nothing. You understand, in my position, I can't trust him. He's not reliable.”

His father replied something but he could not understand what. Stokes continued:

“If it were up to me, I'd relegate him to the archives, but I'm not even sure he's really capable of that. Honestly, Arthur, you've had 7 children, but Percy... well, he’s not the brightest of the bunch, if I can say so.”

Maybe his father had replied something but his ears were ringing. After all, he was right. He was not intelligent enough to save the Muggleborns during the War. He was not smart enough to protect Penny. He was not good enough for his family.

“…let's just say that since the war, when everyone's loyalties became known, Percy's choice is a stain on your family.”

He was a coward. He should have died before. He should have died during the war. This way, his family would not have to suffer because of him.

“Let me give you some advice, Arthur. For your sake and that of your family. You should distance yourself from anyone who worked for the Death Eaters during the war. Starting with your son. He's tainted.”

His boss was right. Why his father could not see that?

“He made so many mistakes during the war. He choose the wrong side.”

Stain. Tainted. Mistake.

Fool. Coward. Killer.

His father voice was booming out of the room. And then there was hands on his face.

His father was looking at him. Crouching in front of him.

He didn’t remember falling to the floor.

His breath hurt.

His father was talking to him but he didn’t understand him. He felt like his father voice was so far away.

And then his father was hugging him. And guiding him away from that corridor.

He blinked. And he realized he was sitting in his father office, a cup of tea in his hands.

“Perce?”, asked his father, softly, almost brokenly.

“Dad?”, he asked softly.

“Yes Percy? You’re back with me?”

He nodded.

“Good. That’s good.”, whispered his dad “I talked to Stokes. You can take the afternoon off.”

He nodded again. The cup was warm in his hands.

“You can go see the twins if you want. Or you can go home to the Burrow. Mom and Ginny will be happy to see you.”

He shook his head.

“No. I’ll… I’ll go see the twins. I promised.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Well, whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you to the Floo alright?”.

He nodded. The cup was warm in his hand. His father was sitting close. His breath didn’t hurt.

He drank the tea slowly. It had milk and sugar in it and the tea was slightly burned. But it felt safe and nice. And after a few minutes, he put down the cup and whispered:

“I’ll go see Fred and George.”.

His father nodded and took him to the Floo in the Atrium. And before he could go into the greenish flames, his father hugged him and whispered:

“Love you Perce. Be safe and have fun with the twins.”

Percy nodded against his father's shoulder. And then he was gone.

Notes:

I said that the next chapter would be Percy and the twins but it'll be the next chapter sorry. I needed to have more Percy/Arthur time with a bit more angst.
So next chapter, it'll be Percy and the twins.
Also, in the next few chapter, there will be a bit more plot so I hope you can bear with me because I had planned a fic of mostly 30 chapter and now we are at 34 chapter and only halfway there.
Also, I think there'll be two more books after this one so i hope you'll still love this universe in a few months.

And again: comments give me life and fuel to write more so please do comment
And kudos are very much appreciated.

Love

PrincessAngst

Chapter 35

Summary:

It's twins' time! With George's POV for this chapter

Notes:

TW:
Slight mentions of depression

Chapter 35

Working in the shop after yesterday’s events felt wrong. Like they could not be working on making people laugh when they could not even look at their brother without wanting to scream or cry or both. But he had to keep on working.

When he entered the shop after Fred, George was suddenly struck by how wrong their shop looked. Not that anything at changed, really. It was just him that had changed. In merely one day, he had lost all his innocence. All the innocence that had not been destroyed by the war. He was now aware by how dark and sad and awful life could be. And knowing that, their shop felt wrong.

Their shop was bright and colourful, so full of joy and happiness. But it suddenly felt so wrong. So detached from reality. Too fake. It was too bright, too joyful, too loud. Too much. It was bright an joyful when their brother was shaking and not eating and alone and. And it was too much. Suddenly he hated that stupid shop, with their stupid products. How could he liked this shop made to make people smile when he could not even make his own brother smile?

He could not stay in the main part of the shop, where everything was bright and joyful. He could not stay in a place where all he could think about was the fact that his brother was not smiling anymore and he didn’t remembered the last time he saw him smile. So he made a beeline to their workshop, wanting nothing more than to bury himself in work just to forget the fact that his brother was not smiling.

Fred and George were similar in many ways, but although they were twins, they were inherently different from each other. So, while Fred refused to confront his emotions by being loud, obnoxious and generally unbearable to those around him, George himself would choose to retreat into his work, far from other people, and think only of his inventions for hours on end in order to avoid thinking about what was tormenting him.

And so, from the moment they arrived to lunch time, George locked himself into his workshop and poured into books and notes and magical experimentation, not stopping for a minute just to avoid thinking about Percy and Percy’s smile, or more precisely Percy’s lack of smile. And when Fred knocked on his door to go eat in the living-room of their shared apartment upstairs, George felt like he was floating far away and could not really come back to earth.

The lunch was simple, a few sandwiches made by their mom, a glass of fizzy water and a slice of apple pie from yesterday dinner. It was good, as everything their mom made. George loved his mother cooking: it reminded him of home and afternoon spent flying with Fred over the fields. Running into the house with mud everywhere and not caring for one second. It reminded him of simpler times, where the only thing he would worry about was if his new product would work or who would win the flying contest.

They ate in silence. That was strange, they never ate in silence, even when it was only the two of them. There was always something to talk about, a new Quidditch season, the gossip from Mrs Kendall from down the street, a cute thing Victoire did the Sunday before, the news from Ron or Charlie. But silence was not something that exist with the Weasley, whether there was two or nine of them. But know, there was silence. And that silence felt like grief. Grief about Percy’s lack of smile. Grief about Percy’s shaky hands. Grief about Percy’s screams and sobs. And mostly, grief about Percy’s silence.

“You alright Georgie?”, asked suddenly Fred.

“Don’t know”, replied George “I feel strange after everything.”

“Yeah. Me too.”, replied Fred softly “Merlin, do you realise it was only yesterday?”

George stopped eating his roast beef sandwich and shook his head. It didn’t feel like just yesterday. It felt like years ago. Almost a lifetime ago. He couldn’t understand how it only had been a day since everything he knew came crashing down and he brutally realised that he never really knew his brother.

“It doesn’t feel… right.”, replied George for a lack of better word.

Because it didn’t feel right but he didn’t really understand what he felt. Because everything was getting mixed up in his head and he couldn't sort out his emotions. And he wasn't sure he wanted to, to begin with.

“I don’t… I don’t understand how we never saw anything before and now it’s the only thing I can see”, admitted George after a beat.

Fred looked at him with big eyes, almost like he was surprised, but he nodded faintly.

“Me too. I… I can’t stop hearing him sob. And every time I think of him, I think about the war and… And I thought it was over but it’s not and I don’t know what to do.” admitted Fred.

And George got that. He really did. Because he felt the same, in a way. He just couldn’t explain it. Not with words anyway. He sighed and Fred nodded, and they felt silent. They were never silent normally, but since yesterday, nothing felt normal anymore and George could not find in himself to try to be normal with his twin when nothing was normal, and everything was painful.

The silence stretched and George kind of liked that and at the same time hated it. He liked that silence because he could keep quiet about his feeling that he didn’t understand. But he hated it because the only thing that occupied his mind was those feelings, and it was awful. So, after a few more long and terrible minutes of silence, he said:

“He should arrive at five thirty.”.

It was factual. It was easy. It broke the silence.

“Good. We should go back to the shop. It’s almost half past one.” replied Fred.

It was good. It was simple. It was factual.

Both twins wanted that silence to stop. That awful silence that was not normal for the Weasley and even less for the twins. And both twins desperately wanted things to go back to normal even if they knew it would never be the case anymore. Because the War had hurt everyone of them, and even five years later, it was still here. And even if they tried to forget, to move on, they had brutally realised that moving on had never been an option for Percy, and that they would never move on unless everybody moved on.

They packed the rest of their lunch and left their apartment. It was half past one, they had four hours before Percy arrival. And it felt too long and too short at the same time. But it was what they had agreed on, and so even if it felt too long and too short at the same time, they would wait. But then, as they went down the stairs, they heard Lee’s voice, their employee and former roommate. And a second one. One they didn’t hear much since the end of the war. One that belong to the person they thought about for the whole day.

Percy’s voice.

And it was only half past one.

The simple fact that it was only half past one, when Percy said he would be here at half past five was disturbing at best. Because Percy was never late. Never early either. He was always right on time. It was almost frightening how much Percy was punctual. So the simple fact that Percy was four hours early was terrifying.

They rushed down the stairs to find their brother speaking softly with Lee, his hands clasped together to diminish the shaking. His face was pale and his eyes where a bit red and it looked like he cried and.

And he turned his head toward them and it was at the same time the worst and best sight George had saw all day. Because his brother was too thin, his eyes too big and too red, his cheeks too pale and marred with tear tracks, his hands too shaky and his hair too dull. But he was here, he was standing, his eyes were bright, and he looked… kind of relaxed.

“Perce?” asked Fred softly.

“Hello. I… I’m sorry I’m early. Is it alright?” asked Percy, tugging, and twisting his fingers.

“Oh. Hum, yeah it’s, it’s alright. It’s great even.”, replied George.

“You’re sure? I can go to the Burrow until five thirty, Dad said it was okay.”, replied Percy in a soft voice, like he was scared he would make too much noise.

“No, no it’s fine. We can test more products, it’s good.” replied George.

“Yeah, and then we can go to the Burrow early this evening. We could have tea with Mom and Gin’”, added Fred.

Percy looked between Fred and George and his eyes widen a bit. They looked too big on his face. And he asked:

“But what about your shop?”

“Well, Lee can manage for an hour alone, right Lee?” replied Fred.

“Right-o, boss. I’m going to meet with Oliver later in the Leaky Cauldron, so I have to stay until 6 anyway.”

“Oh right! The season is finished already”, replied Fred.

“Yep. It’s been a long time since I saw our dear ol’ Quidditch Captain”.

Percy eyes widen and his face did something complicated. Like he was happy and sad at the same time. And he whispered:

“Oliver. You mean Oliver Wood?”

“Yeah, you know the guy?”, asked Lee with a crooked smile.

Percy’s were wide open, and he was twisting his fingers together, and his lips were thinly pressed together.

“Yes. We… we were roommate at Hogwarts”, replied Percy.

“Oh. Alright then.” Replied Lee.

Percy’s eyes were a bit shiny, and he looked at the floor and he hunched his shoulders. His hands were shaking a bit too much and he suddenly looked small.

George didn’t like seeing Percy like that. He didn’t like that at all. His brother should not look small, or scared, or hurt. He should look happy, be passionate like before, pompous, know-it-all. But never scared and small and hurt. His brother should be smiling and talking a mile a minute about something only himself understood. And he didn’t understand what the problem with Oliver was, but he would do anything to take Percy’s mind away from that subject that seemed to make him so sad, and so small.

So he turned to his brother and said:

“Hey Perce, you want to take a look at the products? Or you want tea before maybe? Mom gave us apple pie and I know you love it”.

Percy raised his eyes towards his little brother and said softly:

“I already had tea with Dad, so it’s alright. Unless you want some.” he added looking between the twins.

“Nah, it’s good”, replied Fred “Shall we?” he added gesturing to the backrooms and their workshop. And Percy’s nodded, and he followed the twins into the backrooms. And as they were walking, George wished he could see Percy’s smile again.

Notes:

So sorry I'm late. I had a bit of an issue with this chapter that was way too long so I separated it into two parts, the first one in George's POV and the second in Fred's POV so normally I should be able to post the next chapter in a few days.

Also: Oliver is finally mentioned!

I hope you liked this chapter

And as usual comments give me life and fuel to write, and kudos are very much appreciated,

Love

PrincessAngst

Chapter 36

Summary:

Fred's POV

Also there is part of it in French so if you want some translation, see the end notes.

Notes:

TW: Slight mention of depression
Slight mention of possible anger issues

They entered the workshop, clustered with new experiments, books, and notebooks, potions bubbling and magic buzzing in the air. Percy walked slowly behind them, looking at the scenery with awe and a bit of apprehension. Fred grabbed a chair and put it down in front of the workbench, gesturing at Percy to sit down. He complied silently and sat with his hands folded in his lap.

Fred looked at the fragile form of his brother and hated how thin he was. He wanted to punch a wall or find the Death Eater who tortured him and kill them as slowly and agonizingly as possible. He hated seeing his big brother so fragile, looking like the smallest gust of wind could topple him over. And he hated even more the tear tracks evident on his hollow cheeks and the redness of his eyes that weren’t there this morning.

But Percy looked so calm and was waiting so patiently for them to show him their new products. And he didn’t want to make him wait. And after all, the products might cheer him up. Or so he hoped. Because, contrary to popular belief, he and George didn’t share the same brain, nor they had some sort of weird telepathy thing going on, but they do share some similarities. And knowing his twin, he had surely asked Percy to come here to cheer him up. And even if he thought that testing products were indeed funny, since yesterday, he was not sure if making Percy test these products might really help him.

But then George grabbed their Wireless Earpiece and gave them to their brother. Percy took the little object that looked like their extendable ears with shaky hands, but so delicately and Fred wanted to scream. Because Percy had always been delicate and attentive of them all, and growing up, Fred didn’t understand how he could be so slow, but now it felt like he was seeing an old part of his brother, a part that somehow hadn’t been destroyed and he wanted to scream.

“So, you have to put this little part inside your ear and that big part behind your ear.”, explained George softly.

Percy nodded and slowly, with shaky hands, he put the Wireless Earpiece in his ears. And then he looked a bit confused at the twins.

“Not too tight?” asked George.

“No it’s fine,” replied Percy softly.

“Great. Now, think of a song. Anything you want.”

He closed his eyes and Fred smiled when they suddenly burst open, looking frantically around the room. And then his lips parted, and a sort of awe painted his features.

Percy, for his part, could not comprehend what was happening. George had told him to think of a song. And he could not stop himself from thinking about ABBA. Penny’s favourite band. And when the first notes of Lay All Your Love on me ranged into his ears, he thought he was hallucinating. And as his eyes scanned the room for a record player and came back empty, he realised that the music was coming from his ears. And he let the notes wash over him, thinking back to the first time Penny showed him her record player, playing that very song when they had been in First year, two small kids bright and happy, free from the darkness of the world.

George was looking at him smugly. And Fred felt a smile tug at his lips. Percy looked… happy, and in awe, and a bit sad. But mostly, he looked amazed, as if he'd just discovered a mountain of presents at the foot of the Christmas tree.

“I guess it worked well?”, asked George.

Percy nodded, in awe. There was music in his ears. But not a record player playing. Tentatively he took one earpiece out and realized suddenly that he could only hear the music from the earpiece still in his ear. The rest of the room was silent except for the gentle sound of the different products in the workshop.

“Wait… I… I’m the only one that can hear the music?”, whispered Percy, awe in his voice.

“Yep,” replied Fred. “The Wireless Earpiece. When you can hear every music, you think of without disturbing your neighbour. Perfect for outings and students living in dorms.”, recited Fred.

Percy looked in awe at his brothers. The last notes of Lay all your love in Me rang in his ears and then he took out the other earpiece and gave the two back to George who put them back into their box.

“So. What do you think?”, asked George after a beat. He was still smiling but his smile was smaller.

Percy hummed. He crossed his hands on his lap. And then he said:

“It’s really good. It knew the song, which is impressive since it was a Muggle one. I really liked it. It kind of reminded me of a Muggle contraption called Walkman. But it’s better because you don’t need an additional device, the earpieces are enough. Which is great because it's small. And you can listen to music without disturbing other people. But the earpieces are quite small so you might lose them easily. Which would be a shame.”

Fred and George exchanged a look and smiled. As always, Percy was poised and careful in his explanations. Never judging but not too nice, like their mom could be. He was fair and pointed out immediately the qualities and flaws of this device. Fred felt like he had found a bit of the old Percy and suddenly his heart constricted in his chest. Because he suddenly realised how much he had missed this. And he hated the fact that he had never realised before how much he had missed his older brother. And he hated himself for that.

“That’s a very good point. We’ll work on that.”, he replied softly, trying to quell the grief growing in his heart.

Percy nodded faintly. His hands were neatly folded in his lap, but he was slouching a bit and his face still held a bit of the awe that marred his features a few moments ago. And Fred wanted desperately that this awe stayed a bit longer. So he grabbed a little pill on the workbench wrapped in red paper and snapped it in half. He gave one part to Percy and said:

“Try that next. Promise, it’s not disgusting and it’s not harmful”.

Percy nodded a bit and grabbed half of the pill, albeit a bit cautiously. Fred ate his part and smiled at Percy. The pill instantly dissolved on his tongue and left a lemony flavour that was not too sweet nor too sour. Percy ate his part too and looked a bit suspicious.

“So, what do you think ? ” asked Fred with a smirk.

“Et bien, je trouve que… ”, started Percy before stopping abruptly.

And Fred wanted to crackle at his brother's expression. He looked almost affronted to have spoken French.

“Je trouve que… que… Fred ? Qu’est-ce qu’il se passe ? Je ne parle pas en anglais. Je… attend une minute, je comprends ce que je dis ? Mais… ”, asked Percy, more and more confused.

“You spoke French” replied Fred, his smile so wide, it threatened to break his face in half.

“Je parle français ?”, replied Percy looking between the twins incredulously.

“Yep. You’re speaking French. And before you ask, yes, I can understand you. That's why I ate the other half of the pill.”

“Tu… Tu comprends quand je parle français ? Et je parle français ? Mais…", asked Percy.

"Yes, I understand French and yes, you speak French. That’s the beauty of this pill. You can now learn a new language for free. Well not free since you have to pay for the pill, but you caught what I meant.”, replied Fred, smirking widely

George was looking at them, looking smug. He didn’t understand a word of what Percy was saying, but guessing his question based on Fred's answers. And even if he didn’t understand anything Percy said, the look on his face was priceless.

“Et combien de temps ça dure, je veux dire combien de temps je vais encore parler français ?", asked Percy in a mix of confusion and awe.

"Mostly 1 minute left. More or less I guess”, replied Fred.

Percy nodded and tried to speak various words, his eyes widening and his lips curling a bit upwards every time he spoke a new word. After a few words, he switched back to English and almost pouted. And Fred wanted to laugh and scream but from joy. Because Percy was no longer looking like a fragile and hurt version of himself, but more like the older version of himself that was always so easy to read. The one that wore all his expressions on his face, joy, and anger alike. He was smiling widely because he almost felt like his Percy was back. The one he knew before the war, who would pout every time Mom asked him to put down his book and come eat.

“So, how was it?”, asked George, smiling proudly.

“It was great. I mean, I never ever thought I could speak French one day. And you understood me” he added looking at Fred who nodded, “It’s… it’s amazing. And it could be very useful for international meetings too. You have other language?”

“Well for now we have French, Italian, German, and English, but this one is not really useful since we are in England so…”, replied Fred.

“Well, for English people, it would not be useful, but for French or German or even Japanese people, it could be very useful. But speaking for a few minutes a new language could be…”, replied Percy before stopping abruptly.

And at the surprise and delight of both twins, his lips curled into a smile. And then he said:

“Wait. Can one person eat both parts of the pill and speak and understand a new language?”

“Yeah, you can. I think. Why?”, asked Fred confused by the sudden question.

“Because wouldn’t it be great to give Bill that French pill without him knowing? And then ask him to speak with Fleur?”

And Fred blinked. And blinked again. And once more. And suddenly he burst out laughing.

Because Percy had just suggested a prank? Against Bill? A harmless prank, but, nevertheless. Percy, Perfect Prefect Percy had just suggested pulling a prank on Bill. Headboy, perfect son and big brother Bill. And George laughed too, disbelief tainting his laugh.

And then, then, Percy smiled. It was not wide or anything. But it was cheeky and happy, and Fred wanted to scream in joy and show the whole world that smile. That smile that was so much like Percy. That smile that was the absolute proof that whatever could happened next, Percy would be fine. He would make sure of that.

Notes:

Translations:
"Et bien, je trouve que…" : "Well, I think that..."
"Je trouve que… que… Fred ? Qu’est-ce qu’il se passe ? Je ne parle pas en anglais. Je… attend une minute, je comprends ce que je dis ? Mais…" : "I think that... that... Fred What's hapeing? I'm not speaking in english. I... wait a minute I understand what I'm saying? But..."
"Je parle français?" : "I speak french?"
"Tu… Tu comprends quand je parle français ? Et je parle français ? Mais…" : "You... you understand when I'm speaking french? And I'm speaking french? But..."
"Et combien de temps ça dure, je veux dire combien de temps je vais encore parler français ?" : "And how long does it last, I mean how much longer am I going to speak French?"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Onto the notes now:

Percy smiled, I repeat Percy smiled, this is not a drill.

Also, I think I've already said that before but: I'm French and French is my main language (hence the few grammatical mistakes on this fic, sorry English isn't my main language) and I saw a great opportunity to write in French so I took it.

The relationship between Percy and the twins is dear to my heart, and I'm entirely convinced that Percy would have wanted to help the twins prank people as long as it was harmless.

Anyway, as always, comments are life and I'm giggling like a little girl every time I read them even though I'm a grown-ass woman, and kudos are very much appreciated.

Love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 37

Summary:

Molly's POV
Because I crave relationship with parental figures in fanfics

Notes:

TW : Slight mentions of suicidal thoughts
Mention of death of a child

Molly Weasley née Prewett was many things. A witch, a daughter, a sister, a wife, but, and most importantly, a mother. As a mother, she loved many things about her children. Their laughs, their smiles, their quirks, and the noise they made. And as a mother, she hated one thing: knowing that her children were in pain.

As a mother, Molly Weasley wished desperately to shield her children from pain. To shield them from the pain of a scrapped knee, of a broken heart, of any illness. During the War, she had to accept that she could not protect her children from pain and suffering. During the War, she felt she was failing as a mother every day. During the War, she learned how to be a mother in a time of pain and darkness. And after the War, she learned back how to be a mother in a time of peace and light. She learned back how to protect her children, despite them being all adults now.

But now, now, she had to learn in the most painful ways that, as a mother, she failed. She had to hear her son screaming from heartbreak, the kind that no one can mend, from the pain of torture he should have never felt, from guilt and sorrow. And she had to see her son failing. Breaking into thousands of tiny little pieces. And she had to witness her son calling for Death. And maybe the death of one’s son is the greatest pain of all time, but hearing one’s son calling for death, begging and pleading for death to come is a pain as horrible as witnessing the death of your child.

She, as a mother, knew she had failed, the second she heard the tales of her son's bravery from Hermione. Not from her son, but from her daughter-in-law. And then she saw his apartment. That apartment that smelt of death and despair. And then she knew, dead inside of her, that she had failed. And then, then, that half an hour on that cliff, that half an hour that felt like an eternity, proved to her that she had failed. And she didn’t know how to come back from that very realisation.

Because she was Molly Weasley née Prewett, a witch, a daughter, a sister, a wife and most importantly the mother of seven children. And she had failed at that one role. The most important role of her life. And she didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t know how to make for all her past mistakes and the fact she didn’t saw her son suffering.

But Molly Weasley was many things. And maybe she failed at being a mother. But she could still love her children. And maybe, maybe, her love would be enough. She hoped it would be enough. Because she had failed. But she would be damned if she didn’t do her best to try to mend it. And so, Molly Weasley did the two thing she was the best at. She would cook and she would knit.

And so she cooked and she knit. Magic was flowing everywhere in the home. Her knitting project working on the couch, the saucepans and the garden’s vegetables were flying into the kitchen. And Molly Weasley poured magic and love into everything. Because she was a mother. And she wanted to atone for her past mistakes and be sure that her children, and most importantly Percy, knew that she loved them.

At one point, Ginny and Luna came back from their walk into the green fields. And Molly saw the red into her baby girl eyes and the tears tracks onto her cheeks. And she all but flew into the drawing room. And she hugged her baby girl. Letting her cry more into her shoulder, kissing her hair and caressing her back. Because she was a mother. And she would never ever let one of her children fall.

Ginny wept into her mother shoulder, dampening the fabric of her flowery blouse. But she didn’t care. Because she was holding her daughter. And she could cry a whole river and flood the whole house and she would still not let her go. She would hold her to the ends of time if she so asked. Because she was a mother. And she would give her children the world. And after failing so bad with Percy, she knew she would never let herself fail again.

Finally, Ginny disentangled herself from her mother and Molly followed, albeit a little reluctantly. She kissed her hair, and let her go upstairs, following the gracile figure of her girlfriend. And Molly watched her go. And then she went back to her work, if only to distract herself from the grief constricting her chest.

Molly worked the whole afternoon, cooking for the whole family. Because, even if no one really said they would come back tonight, she would cook for all of them. Because she was their mother. And she would make sure that all of her children were well feed and that they didn't lack anything.

By five, the dinner was almost ready, tea was being made, shortbread was cooling on the kitchen table, and her knitting was finished. And Molly Weasley looked at her home and smiled. Because she knew that her children would be well feed tonight. And that Percy would have a new jumper this evening.

And suddenly the fireplace roared to life, casting a greenish hue on the drawing room. And then, one by one, Fred, George and Percy stepped out of the fireplace. She turned toward them and looked at them anxiously. Because Percy was supposed to go see the twins at five-thirty.

“Hello Mom!”, called Fred “We wondered if we could have tea with you and Gin?”, asked Fred.

Molly looked anxiously at her three sons. Because Percy was supposed to go see the twins at five thirty. But it was five and her three sons were in the drawing room.

“Everything alright?” asked Molly, her voice trembling slightly.

“Yeah, everything’s good. Perce just came early into the shop”.

And that was terrifying. Because Percy was never early and never late. He was punctual to a fault. She and Arthur, often joked about that. Saying that Percy must have eaten a watch when he was a baby and stick to being exactly on time every time.

“You… you came early to the shop?”, asked Molly softly, if only to hide the tremor in her voice.

Percy looked at her with his too big blue eyes, looking almost scared. And he whispered:

“Dad said it was okay. That I could leave work early.”

“Oh. Alright. Everything is fine?”, she asked softly.

Percy shrugged. He had been doing that more and more lately. And she felt sick. Because he never used to shrug. He was not the most talkative of her children, but he always made sure to answer any questions. And now he was shrugging. And she felt grief flood her heart. Because she didn’t remember when he son had stop talking. And she knew that she had failed as a mother.

Fred and George exchanged a look, one of those they shared constantly when they were talking with their eyes. But this time she read fear in their eyes. And she felt sick. Because her children should never look fearful, not in her home. Not now, not ever. And she was a mother. She knew what to do. So she directed them towards the table and called for Ginny. And then, she made tea.

Tea was always a good answer. For that she was very English. Tea was always good. In times of joy and in times of grief. She put shortbread on a plate, and brought tea, milk, sugar and the shortbread to the table.

And as she was entering the drawing room, the fireplace roared to life again. And her husband stepped out of the greenish flames. And there had been times before, when she was relieved to see her husband. During the Second War, or when she was pregnant during the First War. But today she felt relieved and so glad to see her husband. Because, even if he shared another bond with their children than hers, he too shared the grief of failing as a parent and learning that their son might not have come back from the War.

Arthur kissed the heads of each twin, patting them affectionately on the shoulder. And then he approached Percy, who looked up to his father. And then Arthur hugged him. And it was so soft, so tender and so raw that she felt herself tear up. Because Arthur was holding Percy the same way he had held him for the first time when he was just an infant, too small and too weak. Like he was the most precious gift from the universe, and he was too scared to hurt him. And even if he had looked at every one of their children in a sort of transcendent awe, seeing that kind of love again made Molly cry softly.

She put the tea on the table, the china clicking softly. But Arthur didn’t let go of Percy, holding him so tenderly. The twins looked up. And they saw her tears. And she felt awful, letting her sons see her like that. But George smiled sadly, and Fred nodded at her. And she felt a little bit right again. Because she forced herself to remember, they too, shared a part of her grief. They shared all the knowledge that if things had been just a little bit different, they would not look at Percy today but at a gravestone.

And then, whatever peace there was in that drawing room, it evaporated suddenly when Ginny ran down the stairs. And screeched when she saw her brother in the arms of her father, sounding almost like the ghoul living in the attic. And Molly could not help but snort a bit at her daughter's antics. And judging by the smirk adorning the twins’ faces and the glimmer in Arthur's eyes, she was not the only one amused by her daughter screeching.

And suddenly, in the middle of her drawing room, with four of her children and her husband next to her, she felt relieved. Because she might have failed as a mother, but she had still her family right next to her. And she could work with that. Because as long as she had her family by her side, Molly could make sure they were well taken care of, and then she could atone for her mistakes and mend what had been broken.

Notes:

Yay, another chapter!

So my loves, I hope you liked this chapter. I wanted an insight into what Molly could think after learning everything about her son and his pain/suffering.

We will leave bit by bit the very angsty part of this fanfic, but do not worry, I love angst so there will be more angst parts to come, but I think we are entering the bittersweet territory. And for those of you who want to see more of Oliver: he will come, don't worry, but I want to focus on the family relationships in this fic.

Anyway, as always comments give me life (I love reading your thoughts on my work) and kudos are very much appreciated!

Love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 38

Summary:

Ginny's POV
And chaos. So much chaos. But what can you expect with The Weasley family?

Notes:

TW:
Slight mentions of anorexia

Ginny was sitting at the table, Percy next to her, at her left, Luna at her right, Fred and George in front of her. And her parents at the end of the table. Everyone had a steaming cup of tea in front of them, with milk and sugar, and way too many shortbread pieces.

And everything felt normal. All day she had thought about Percy. The way his clothes floated around his too-thin frame. The way his eyes were not shining anymore. The way his hands were shaking all the time. And she had felt grief and shame. But now, with her brother by her side, everything felt a little bit more normal.

A little bit like before. Before the war where everything went wrong. Before the Fight, where she lost her brother who had not really come back after. It felt like before, when they were not adults yet and everything was easier, when everything was so simple, and everyone was happier. It felt like before, when the days were simpler and the only thing troubling her was who would de-gnome the garden and who would help with the dishes.

Her tea was perfect, the citrusy taste of bergamot left a sweet aftertaste on her tongue, the buttery delicacy that was the shortbread was crunching just a little bit and was so soft in the mouth, and the smell of fresh flowers on the table was like honey. Fred and George were chatting with their dad and Molly was explaining her shortbread recipe to Luna, and the whole room felt so alive. She sighed, contently.

Then she looked at Percy. He was drinking his tea slowly, holding the cup with two hands and he was eating a little piece of shortbread. She wished he would eat more, and his hands would not shake. But he was here. And even if he was too thin and his hands were too shaky, she would trade a broken brother over a dead one any day.

When the tea finished, the room was basked in a cooper glow from the fiery sunset, the room smelt of honey and butter and she felt so alive and so calm. The whole day she had felt like drowning in her grief and shame and fear and she had felt like she was dying. But now, she felt alive and content, the shadows of her day dissolving into the coppery glow of the room.

The twins retreated to their room, and Percy rose slowly and climbed the stairs without a sound. Luna dragged her to the couch and her dad went into the kitchen with her mom. And everything was at peace.

But peace was not something the Burrow was accustomed to. And like all things that are an anomaly, the peace didn’t last. Not ten minutes after the tea was finished, Charlie came tumbling out of the fireplace, throwing soot everywhere, two suitcases in his hands. He smiled at his sister and called for their mother.

Molly came running from the kitchen and Charlie's voice boomed into the room:

“Alright Mum, I called my boss. I've taken a leave of absence from work, so I’ll stay here until Percy’s well again. I can take my old room again?”

Their mom agreed and Charlie ran up the stairs. He hadn’t left for thirty seconds that the fireplace roared to life again and Bill came tumbling into the room, suitcases in his hands, quickly followed by Fleur holding Victoire.

“Hey Mum. Is it alright if we take my old room? I don’t want to go to Shell Cottage knowing you will all be here.”

Molly merely nodded before there was a distinct pop of apparition outside and the front door opened to Ron and Harry.

“Hey Mom, so we’d like to stay here for a couple of days with Harry and Hermione. Can we take my room please?”

Molly didn’t have the time to respond before the twins and Charlie ran down the stairs and the twins asked:

“By the way Mom”

“Can we”

“Stay here”

“For a few days?”

Molly opened her mouth to respond but then Bill asked:

“Hey Charlie, what are you doing here? I thought you had to go back to work?”

“Oh, I've taken a leave of absence from work, so I can stay here until Percy is well again.”, replied Charlie.

“You took a leave of absence from work?”, asked Ron.

“I wish we could”, added Fred.

“We could always ask Lee to take up the shop from us for a few days”, replied George.

And then their dad entered the room:

“Oh hello. Wait, why are you here Bill and Charlie? Not that I’m not happy to see you but…”

“I’ve taken a leave of absence from work”, replied Charlie.

“And I don’t want to go back and forth between here and Shell Cottage. It’s not good for Victoire.”, added Bill.

“By the way Mom, it’s alright if we stay. You didn’t answer.”, asked Ron.

Molly opened her mouth, but whatever she tried to say was drowned by the roaring sound of the fireplace and Hermione stepped down from the fireplace in her Ministry robes.

And then the chaos was perfected when Percy came down the stairs. Charlie and Bill both tried to go to their little brother, colliding in the middle of the drawing-room, their suitcases falling to the ground, opening to spill all their contents on the ground. Dad went to try and hold them but collided with Fleur, causing Victoire to start crying. Hermione rushed to help but didn’t account for the opened suitcases and fell down, before being caught by Harry's quick reflexes. Harry, who didn’t see Ron trying to do the same thing, threw Ron of balance into the arms of Fred. Who then tumbled into George’s arms. Who then, in a quick succession felt into Percy’s arms. Who himself fell onto the couch where Ginny and Luna were sitting. Ginny, startled, elbowed Luna in her side. Who let go of her book, which fell into Molly’s knitting basket. The sudden shock started a magical reaction, and the knitting needles flew into the air and then embedded themselves into the wall, right next to Molly’s face. Molly’s face which was starting to become redder than her hair.

And she screamed:

“Everyone to their room! NOW!”

And everyone, including Arthur, ran to their respective room, some scrambling to take their clothes off the floor, others trying to get up from the floor, others falling to the floor and then getting up. But somehow, in a matter of minutes, the whole drawing room was empty. And no one dared move out of their room before Molly called them for dinner.

Dinner time was a joyous affair, albeit a bit loud. Everyone was chatting with everyone, the food was delicious and the dessert even more. Percy, sitting between the twins was eating slowly but his eyes were a little bit shinier than before. A little bit too shiny if Ginny was honest. And the literal grins on the twins' faces were kind of frightening.

But then, everything explained itself when, during the calmer moment of the after-meal tea, Bill turned to Fleur, who was cradling a half-asleep Victoire. And then began to speak French to her. Fluently.

Fleur's face was a mixture of disbelief, extreme joy, and profound confusion. And when she replied in French to whatever Bill was saying, Bill’s face went through all stages of grief and confusion in a few seconds. And Fred and George burst out laughing. And everyone followed suit. Before stopping abruptly in awe. Because everyone had followed suit. And all the Weasley watched Percy laugh, in a rough, disused voice, head thrown back. And it was perhaps the most beautiful sound anyone had ever heard.

And Ginny thought right then, that despite everything that had happened, everything would turn out alright.

But like everything in life, happiness never lasts very long. And in Percy’s case? It didn’t last 24 hours.

Notes:

I've been in the worst case of writer block ever. I could not, for the life of me, figure out what to do with this chapter.
But then, after a month, I've finally written it. It's not perfect, but it could have been so much worse, so yeah.

Anyway: on today's episode: chaos. So much chaos. I've wanted to write chaos for so long but it never felt right, but now here it is.
But I would not be myself if I didn't write a tiny bit of angst at the end of the chapter. So yeah, Percy's life is going to go down quickly. Very quickly. But eh, angst.

And, as usual, kudos are very welcome (there is now more than 500 kudos left on this work and just... you are all amazing, thank you so much <3), and comments give me life

With all my love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 39

Summary:

Percy's POV

Please, please read the TW for this chapter.

Notes:

TW : Workplace harassment
Homophobic language
Homophobia
Panic attacks
Suicidal thoughts
Fainting

Percy didn’t remember the last time he slept so well. Not nightmares, no insomnia, nothing. He didn’t even saw the face of Penny when she died. The face that haunted both his life and his sleep. And for the first time in forever, he somehow felt rested.

His room was nicely warm, and his bed was softer that he remembered. He slowly blinked the sleep away from his eyes and realised he was in his apartment but in his childhood bedroom, in his childhood home. He could hear his Mom working in the kitchen, and the voice of his siblings. And it felt strangely nice. Like he was back in a time when everything was so easy. A time when he didn’t yet learn about pain.

He got up and dressed and went downstairs slowly, clutching the banister with his shaking hand. And as he entered the living room, he was greeted by his siblings, Bill pulling him in a side hug, Charlie ruffling his hair, Ron tupping on his back, Ginny punching his arm, and the twins grabbing him and forcing him to seat between them. And despite the noise and general chaos, he felt nice. Not quite happy, but less sad.

He ate a piece of toast at the insistence of his mom and George and basked in the comfortable chaos of his childhood home. And he wondered if Penny would have like this place. She was a Muggleborn, so Dad would have had so many questions for her. And she definitely would have loved his mom cooking. Maybe she would have felt in a intense discussion with Bill about curses. Or gushed about the cuteness of baby dragons with Charlie. Or maybe she would have fitted well with the twins. She was a Ravenclaw but she loved a good prank. Maybe she would have liked to play Wizarding Chess with Ron. Or talk about a good book with Ginny. Yes, she would have fitted right in. And he missed her so much. And so he left the chaos and noise washed over him and tried not to cry about his missing soulmate.

Later, he stepped out of the Floo in the Ministry Atrium, parting with his Dad, Ron and Hermione, with one last hug from his father, and took the lift to his department. And contrary to other morning when he would have gone straight to his office, took the papers on his desk left by Stokes and got to work immediately, today he took the time to grab a cup of warm tea in the common area of his department. Which was is first mistake of the day.

“You’re late Weasley”, drawled a voice behind him.

He turned to face his boss, Mr. Stokes, who looked at him with unconcealed anger. Behind Stokes, was a large clock, and Percy's eyes slid in its direction. The clock read 8.55am, and he didn't start until 9am. So he replied softly:

“It’s only 5 to  nine. I start at nine, sir.”

Stokes’ face darken, and he replied, almost scoffing:

“Don't try to outsmart me, Percival. Go to your office. Now. You have work to do.”

Percy nodded, and clutching the mug of tea went to his office. And on the desk, unlike the usual pile, there was a pile three times as high. Percy took on the large pile but sat down and started working on it. After all, he was always finished early, so it might be nice to have more work to do this time.

By noon, he was finished. He wondered if his dad would come to eat with him today. Yesterday had been nice, even if he had cried a lot, it had felt nice to eat with his dad under the sun in the park. But as he started to get up and grabbed his coat, Stokes strolled in his office, an even larger pile of files than the one he had just dealt with.

“I believed your father made it quite clear that I clearly didn’t give you enough work, so go work Percy.”

“But…”

“What, Percival? You’re not capable of  dealing with it?”, replied Stokes, dumping the content of his arms on the desk.

“No sir. But it’s lunch time…”, replied softly Percy.

“Because you eat now? Could have fooled me, with the way you look Percival. Go to work. Now.”

And he left the room, slamming the door behind him. Percy flinched at the noise and looked at the pile on his desk. There goes the lunch with Dad, he thought. And he sat down to work.

By three in the afternoon, he had finished his work. His hand were shaking a bit more than usual and he was felling a bit dizzy. He stood up on unsteady legs, and clumsily made her way to the communal part of her department, where they always had biscuits and sandwiches on hand. He had just grabbed a small sandwich with cream cheese and cucumber when Stokes shouted his name, making him flinch.

“Weasley! What are you doing here? You have work to do!”

The other occupant of the communal area cast worried glances between him and Stokes but said nothing.

“I’ve finished sir”, replied Percy.

Stokes face was thunderous, and he hissed:

“Is that so? Well, we definitely can't leave you with nothing to do. Lewis!", he called.

Lewis, a man in his thirties, sandy blond hair and a mousey face approached:

"Yes sir?

"Have you finished all your files?

"No sir, I've still got..."

"Give everything else to Percival. I hope you don't mind, Percival?"

He didn't give Percy time to reply and went back to his office, slamming the door as he went. Lewis casted a worried glance to Percy and whispered:

“I’ll bring everything in your office.  Eat something, you look a little pale.”, and then he disappeared in his office.

The confrontation had sapped all of Percy appetite, but he was still a bit dizzy, so he forced himself to eat two little cucumber sandwiches.

When he returned to his office, there was a small pile on his desk. He got to work immediately, but he was getting slower by the time, and he managed to finish everything by five. At which point Stokes entered his office with another pile of files.

“I guess you’ll have to do extra work today. I want this finished before you leave.”, and dumped the files on Percy desk, uncaring for the mug on the desk that fell and shattered on the floor.

“Can you stop being so clumsy?”, shouted Stokes, “Clean that up, Percival. Now.”

Percy nodded but Stokes had already left. He casted a quick Reparo. And took the next file. At seven he was finally finished and his back hurt. His eyes were burning, and his hands were shaking too much. He rose and felt pain shoot down his legs. He grabbed his coat and put back the wand in his pocket.

Suddenly the door of his office opened, and Stokes stood in the doorway. He looked at the desk and smirked darkly:

“I guess you’re not so incompetent Percival. Next time, try to finish on time.”

Percy nodded and slowly tried to pass past Stokes who grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving.

“You now, I’ve always wondered how you managed to stay at the Ministry during the whole war and not be fired or hurt by Death Eaters.”

Percy stiffened and tried to escape Stokes grasp. But Stokes was way stronger than him and he almost didn’t eat of the whole day so his attempts were unsuccessful.

“I first I thought it was because your intelligence or intellectual capacities, but after five years in my service, I know very well it’s definitely not that. And so I thought. Because what else could you have done to stay so long. And then I understood.”

Percy looked at him, a horrible feeling in his gut.

“You used your other abilities. You know… The more… deviant ones. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, Percival”.

Percy shook his head, not understanding.

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me Percival. I know what you are, you little faggot.”

Percy paled and stopped moving, looking aghast at his boss.

“Yes, I know you’re a faggot Percy. A disgusting one.”

Percy merely shook his head, but he could not think. Could not move.

“You whored yourself to the Minister, uh Percy? And to The Death Eaters too.”

Percy could not think. Could not speak. Could not move.

“Oh, don’t try to deny it Percy. I know you’re a whore. You let the last Minister have his way with you and let the Death Eaters satisfy their needs with your body.”

He could not breath. He could not move.

“Did you fucked the new Minister too Percy?”

He was not breathing. He was not breathing.

“I guess he enjoyed it, if he let you stay here after the War.”

His vision was swarming. His breath was hurting.

“You disgust me, you worthless whore. You disgusting faggot.”

His breath hurt.

“They should have killed the likes of you. The one that spread their legs to live well during the war when the others suffered.”

And then he was gone.

And Percy was not breathing.

He was on the floor. The cold of the wood flooring under his cheek.

His heart was hurting. Maybe he would die here.

His body was shaking.

It would be fitting if he died here, in the place when Penny took his place and died instead of him.

He was not breathing.

His chest constricted painfully.

He was too hot and too cold.

And then it was dark.

Notes:

I do not condone in anyway homophobia or transphobia. Stokes is a piece of shit and no one should have to hear what Stokes said.

That being said: on this account, I will not tolerate any homophobic, transphobic or racist insults. Any homophobic, transphobic or racist comment will be deleted. And any criticism of mental health will also be reported and deleted.

I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that the aim of this fanfic is to show a person suffering from depression and post-traumatic stress disorder in a toxic work environment. Percy is a person who suffers, but who is lucky enough to have a supportive family. If you are in a situation where you are suffering about your mental health, no matter why, don't stay alone.

Here are some ressources:
https://sossilenceofsuicide.org/
0808 115 1505 (Hotline for people feeling suicidal UK)
https://www.mhanational.org/resources/988
1-800-273-TALK (Hotline for people feeling suicidal USA)
3114 (Hotline for people feeling suicidal France)

Please be safe my darlings.

And to conclude on a more happy note: we have now reached half of the story, Oliver should appear in a bit, and I can say this has been a blast to write until now: your comments, kudos and bookmarks have help me reach this milestone so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

So please do comment or left kudos because it push me to continue this story.

With all my love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 40

Summary:

Ron's POV

Notes:

TW : Mentions of character death
Mentions of death of a loved one
Mentions of abuse
Mentions of workplace harassment
Slight mentions of gore
Homophobic slurs

It was seven p.m when Ron finally finished for the day. He’s glad he finished early, usually, he could leave at eight p.m. Being an Auror means having long hours, and sometimes sleeping at work when a case is urgent, like when a child is missing. He hates those times, not because he has to stay overnight, but because it never ends well.

So today he was glad. He had finished early, Hermione had sent a message saying she had a hearing at six, so if he was finished around seven, they could go home together. Home being the Burrow for the foreseeable future, since the revelations about Percy but neither Harry nor Hermione complained about it. Mostly, they understood. Mainly because he broke down crying multiple times during the night, remembering the pain of the war, the torture of Hermione, the death of Harry. And now the pain of his brother. Was it only two nights ago? It felt longer.

He put his Auror robes back into his closet in the changing rooms and put back on his civilian clothes back on; muggles one because of Harry and Hermione who showed him how comfortable a jean with a t-shirt and jumper on top was. He grabbed his wands and was looking around his office one last time to check if he didn’t miss anything when Hermione entered his office. He smiled at his girlfriend and kissed her softly on the lips.

But whatever she tried to say was drowned in the sound of the roaring fireplace in his office. He turned around to swear to whoever had decided to Floo-call him at this hour to just leave him alone when he saw his father face. He frowned and walked toward the fireplace.

“Ron, are you still here?”, asked his father.

Ron crouched down in front of his fireplace and replied:

“Yup Dad, I’m here.”

“Oh great, are you still in the Ministry?”

Ron rolled his eyes and smirked:

“No.”, his father face fell but Ron quickly added, “Of course I’m still in the Ministry Dad, where do you think you called me?”

"Oh. Oh yes. Oh yes. Of course. What was I thinking?"

"What do you want Dad?" asked Ron.

"Oh yes. Um, can you go and see if Percy is still at the Ministry? He hasn't turned up for tea, and your mother and I are getting worried. Even Bill's back, and Gringotts’ doesn't joke about timetables," replied his father.

"OK, OK Dad, I'll go and check. His office is on the third floor?"

" That's right. Thanks, son. See ya in a bit."

"See you Dad."

He rose back, the flames in the fireplace returning to their usual reddish colour. Hermione gave him a questioning look and he said:

“Percy not home. Dad wants me to check his office.”

Hermione nodded and put a hand in the small of his back, and together they made their way to the lift. The Ministry was a labyrinth and even 3 years later, he regularly got lost. It took them longer than Ron would have liked to find the department where Percy worked. The common area was deserted but he could still hear the clicking noise of the typewriters and the crunch of paper. One door had light coming from underneath, and another was slightly ajar.

Confidently, Ron went toward the closed door, but Hermione voice suddenly stopped him. Her voice was shaky, like she was terrified.

“Oh god. Oh god. Ron”, she called, “I need you, please.”

His blood turned into ice, and he turned towards his girlfriend who was looking into the room with the previously slightly ajar door who was now completely opened. And she was gripping the door frame, her knuckles turning white.

He crossed the common area in a few steps and stopped next to Hermione. But she didn’t look at him. She was looking horrified at something into the room. And he followed her gaze. And instantly wished he didn’t. In the room, lying on the floor, completely still, face pale, clutching his chest, was his brother.

He had to grab the door frame to stay upright. Because his brother was dead. Dead in a cold room without a window. Dead. Dead. Dead.

His vision blurred.

His knees buckled.

His head hit the door frame.

And the tears fell.

He didn’t realized Hermione had entered the room, nor that she had kneeled in front of his brother body. She screamed something but he didn’t hear it. It was like he was underwater. It was Harry all over again, lying motionless in the arms of Hagrid. But unlike Harry, there would be no miracle. No sudden resurrection. There would be only grief and darkness.

And there were cold hands on his face. And his vision centred again on Hermione. Her lips were moving but he didn’t understand what she was saying.

“-on! Ron! He fainted. He fainted”, screamed Hermione.

But he looked at her with only despair and grief. Because his brother was dead. And he didn’t had the chance to tell him he had forgave him. That he loved him. That he would love him no matter what. That he had always loved him, even if he didn’t say it with so many words.

“Ron, Ron, please look at me”, begged Hermione, “Percy needs us. Needs you.”

He blinked. And blinked again.

And suddenly, he registered Hermione words. And he whispered:

“He’s alive?”

Hermione nodded before adding:

“Yes. Yes, he’s alive. But he needs help.”

Ron nodded and crawled to where his brother was lying. He could do this. He could help him. He could save him.

His face was pale. Too pale. And he was still. Too still. But his chest was moving. Up and down. Up and down. And his wheezing breath was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

He grabbed his hand and took his wand, ready to cast a diagnostic spell. But then, right then, Percy eyes opened faintly. Before closing again. And his hand twitched in his hand. And it was the most delicate and perfect movement he had ever felt. Right after the first time Victoire had squeezed his finger at only four days old.

“Percy”, he called.

And Percy hummed.

And blinked, oh so softly. And his eyes opened slightly, and he could drown into the blue of his eyes. Because he was alive. He was here. And just like Harry, there had been a miracle. A so soft and tender one. Because he was alive.

“Percy, can you hear me?”, he asked, “Squeeze my hand if you can”.

And Percy fingers twitched in his hold. And then they squeezed his hand. And he wanted to cry and laugh and scream or all at one. But Percy was so fragile. So breakable. And so, he whispered:

“Percy, can you open your eyes for me?”

And Percy blinked, so slowly, like an old doll. But his eyes opened. And his eyes were so soft but oh so terrified. And Ron never, ever wanted to see that very fear in his eyes.

“It’s perfect Percy. You’re doing amazingly.”, he commented softly.

Percy nodded softly and Ron wanted to envelop him into the fluffiest blanket and never let him go.

“Percy, we need to help you seat. Can you do that for me?”

He nodded, and slowly, oh so slowly Percy rose. And he sat into his younger brother embrace, hands shaking a bit too much. Hermione kneeled next to them and asked softly:

“Percy, have you eaten today?”

“Tried. Couldn’t.”, replied Percy softly.

Ron frowned at that but Hermione nodded and disappeared for a bit before coming back with three sugar cubes, she held to Percy.

“Eat that please.”

Percy held a shaky hand and grabbed the sugar cubes before popping them in his mouth, one by one, slowly. And then he sank into Ron’s embrace.

“Perce? You okay?”, asked softly Ron.

“Yes. Tired. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You can rest. Try to stay awake though, please.”, replied Ron.

He felt Percy nod against his chest, and he wanted to burst. His brother was so fragile, so weaken. He was supposed to be strong. He was supposed to be the one to hold them all. But he had held them long enough now and he needed the others to hold him. And Ron would hold him. And he would make sure he would never let him go again.

“Percy, we have to go home. You don’t have to walk. I can carry you, if you want.”

Percy nodded. And whispered:

“Yes please.”

And so Ron gathered his brother in his arms and rose. Percy sank even more in his embrace and Ron’s heart felt suddenly so full. Because he remembered distantly a time where Percy held him the same way to put him in bed after a long night playing chess, when he was still living at home, before he left for Hogwarts. And slowly he and Hermione made their way out of Percy’s office.

In the common area was a short woman with dark hair and dark skin. And she paled suddenly seeing the three of them.

“Oh god Weasley. Is he alright?”, she asked.

“Yes. He fainted.”, explained Hermione.

“Oh. Well, no wonder with the way Stokes treated him today.”

Ron bristled and Percy stiffened in his arms.

“What do you mean by “the way Stokes treated him today”.”

The women faltered slightly and stammered out:

“Well, he didn’t let him take a lunch break. Said he never ate anyway so letting him take a break at lunch was useless. And he berated him the whole day. And…”, she stopped, clearly uncomfortable.

“And what?”, pressed Ron and Percy body stiffen more in his arms.

The woman looked at the floor, then the wall. Everywhere but Ron and Percy. And finally whispered:

“I heard him telling Weasley he was a faggot and that he… he had whored himself to the Death Eater and the Minister during the War.”

And Ron looked at her, bewildered. And then his jaw clenched. His eyes ablaze with fury. And his hold on Percy tightened, drawing a whimper from Percy. And he growled:

“Where is Stokes?”

The woman paled and stammered:

“I think he has already left”.

Ron eyes were burning, and he wanted nothing more than to go to Stokes and rip his beating heart from his chest and let him die, drowning in a pool of his own blood. But then, a cold hand found its way on his back. And he blinked the rage from his eyes. The rage that was encompassing his heart. And turned to look at Hermione who said:

“I understand Ron. I promise. But Percy needs to be examined and then he needs to sleep. So we need to go home. For him. But I understand. I understand what you want to do to Stokes. But right know Percy needs you.”

And, as to approve Hermione point, Percy whimpered softly in his arm, head falling heavily against his chest.

“Percy?”, asked Hermione, “Can you stay awake a little bit longer? Please?”

Percy blinked. And nodded, before whispering so softly that Ron almost missed it:

“Alright.”

And the way his brother laid in his arms, oh so vulnerable, made Ron’s heart lurch. And he whispered softly to Hermione.

“Alright. Let’s go home.”

Notes:

I think I love more the bittersweet chapters than the angsty one on this fic. Because the brotherly love displayed in this chapter is maybe one of my favourite things I've written on this fic.

So, since my previous chapter was a very angsty one, I hope a bittersweet one will help mend your broken hearts my darlings.

Anyway, per usual, kudos are very welcome and comments are the best part of this fic, after writing it so please do comment.

With love,

PrincessAnsgt

Chapter 41

Summary:

Bill's POV and a bit of Fleur's POV at the end

Notes:

TW : Mentions of abuse
Mentions of torture
Heart disease
Mentions of death
Mentions of risk of heart disease
Mentions of panic attacks

Bill was pacing in the drawing room, trying to forget the fact that Percy was late. And he was failing miserably at that one specific task because all he could think about was his little brother and the fact that everyone else in the house was trying to distract themselves from the fact that Percy was late. Charlie was flying in the garden with Ginny, but never too far from the open door, to hear when Percy would come home, the twins were trying to play chess, very badly and looking more at the fireplace than the chessboard, and Dad was with Mom in the kitchen, helping her with the food, door wide open to hear the familiar roar of the fireplace that would signal the arrival of Percy.

And everyone was on edge because it was seven-thirty and Percy should have been home at five-thirty at least.

But Bill was not panicking. He. Was. Not. Panicking. Well, maybe a little. But since Sunday’s revelations, he had swore to never let Percy out of his sight ever again and here he was: at home, while Percy was late. So no, he was not panicking, not yet, but he sure was very, very anxious.

Suddenly the fireplace roared to life and Bill stopped dead in his tracks, the twins rose from the couch, Ginny and Charlie landed outside and the Weasley parents came running from the kitchen. And Hermione stepped out from the fireplace.

And Bill wanted to ask if she had seen Percy. Or Ron, since Dad called him half an hour ago. But then the fireplace roared to life again. And Bill’s heart stopped.

Because Ron stepped out of the fireplace. And in his arms, laying motionless, was Percy.

And he had never been so glad that Victoire was upstairs with Fleur and Harry, because Percy looked like a corpse. If it hadn’t been for the slow rise and fall of his chest, he would have looked dead.

“What happened?”, blurted Fred. Or George. Bill didn’t know and frankly didn’t care at the moment.

Ron turned their head towards them and it was terrifying. Because his eyes were dark, like he was going to murder someone. But his hands were gentle on Percy. And Bill wanted to grab his brother from his other brother’s arms, bundle him in too many blankets, but he was rooted to the spot.

“He fainted.”, replied Ron. And even if his voice was soft, it was laced with anger.

“How?”,

“Why?”,

“When?”,

“Where?”,

“What?”

Everyone was talking at the same time, but, despite the noise, Percy didn’t move. And that was terrifying. Because Percy hated the noise in the Burrow with a passion. And now, he was not even awakened by it?

“He fainted at work. Because of his stupid boss.”, replied Ron, his voice thunderous.

“What? Stokes?”, asked their father, anger in his voice.

And before anyone could ask anything more, Hermione voice boomed in the room, and for a second, Bill understood how the defendants must feel when they had to face her in court.

“Everyone, stop it. Percy needs medical assistance, not blinded rage. Bill, is Fleur here?”

“Yeah…”, he replied softly,

“Great, can she check out Percy? His colleague said he could not eat for the whole day and that he probably had a panic attack.”

And Bill’s heart broke, hearing those words left Hermione mouth. Because he had seen, almost for the first time two days ago, how frail his brother looked and how he could not eat much. But being denied food for the whole day in his condition? That was inhumane.

And so he called for his wife, who came down too slowly for his liking. She looked at him questioningly, but the minute she saw Percy in Ron’s arms her whole demeanor changed. Her eyes narrowed, she pursed her lips into a thin line, her fingers wrapped around her wand. She motioned for Ron to put Percy on the couch, previously occupied by the twins. And Ron lay him down so tenderly, like Percy was a fragile piece of glass, that could shatter at any moment.

And she cast spell after spell, asking for details from Ron and Hermione, the whole room buzzing with magic and lighting up with multicoloured lights. And after a few minutes, she stopped, her wand dropping beside her, laying softly in her hand. And she turned towards them, her brow furrowed, in a way he hadn’t seen since the war.

“So. I can’t perform any more detecting spells, but from what I see, he’s severely malnourished and dehydrated. I saw multiple signs of sleep deprivation and faint traces of ancient dark curses. I will need to look at his arm in more detail, but what worries me, is his heart. You said he had been put under the Crutiatus curse for how many times?”

Bill blinked. There was too much information at once, and he didn’t know how to process them. And judging by the soft silence that welcomed her words, everyone in the family was in the same situation. Thankfully, Hermione replied for them.

“I can’t say how many times for sure, but he said it was more than once.”

Fleur's face darkened and pursed her lips. But then Fred asked:

“What do you mean his heart?”

And Charlie added at the same time:

“What happened to his arm?”

Fleur turned towards her two brothers-in-law and sighed:

“He has a nasty bruise on his arm. And for his heart, it seemed like the Healer he saw didn’t perform every detecting spell he should have.”

“What does that mean?”, asked their dad softly.

Fleur turned toward her father-in-law and replied:

“It means that he has atrial fibrillation, probably caused by the exposure to the Cruciatus curse, and it’s permanent.”

And suddenly the room felt like it was plunged into an icy darkness sticky substance, that seeped into the lungs, suffocating and oppressing the people inside that room.

And their dad asked, his voice quivering a bit:

“Is it… is it bad?”

“Not necessarily. But he will need treatment, and sooner rather than later. By the end of the month would be good, but considering it hadn’t been treated before, I would hope that by the end of the week, he would have a treatment. But if we wait too long there might be some complications.”

“What sort of complications?”, asked Ginny,

“Well, he is a Wizard so some complications that the Muggles may have would be prevented by his magical core, such as sudden death or dementia. But he has a heightened rick of heart attack and strokes. And oedema in the lungs and permanent cough, with heightened tiredness. And possibly a heart failure and risk of death by sixty, seventy at most.”

If someone had punched Bill in the stomach and then stabbed him multiple times with a knife in the lungs while hitting his head on the floor, it would have hurt less than hearing those words. Because his wife was essentially telling him that for five years, they had let Percy live with the consequences of an unimaginable torture, torture that now caused his heart to work strangely and could potentially kill him.

Their mother gasped and all but fell into her husband’s arms, tears falling from her eyes. Charlie cursed and he looked at the lying form of his brother with tears in his eyes. The twins clutches each other with fear and despair painted on their features. Ginny looked like she was ready to burst into tears. And Ron looked at the wall like he wanted to find the one that tortured him and rip of their heart while they were still beating. And himself he wanted to crawl in a hole and scream at the world and himself for letting his brother be hurt in such ways.

“But, really, with a treatment, he will get better. The wizarding world has excellent healer, and I know a amazing one that specializes in long term consequences of Unforgivables curses. So with treatment, he will be fine. Well he might be more easily tired and will not be able to do too much exercices, but I’m not a specialist. Anyway, with treatment he will be fine.”, added Fleur, looking at them with what should have been a reassuring look.

And even when Fleur tried to reassure them, he didn’t hear her. Because even if, with treatment, he would be fine, they had let him suffer for far too long, and whatever anyone might say, nothing would be able to erase his guilt.

Fleur looked at them and sighed softly. She knew that whatever she might say, nothing could help them now. Maybe later, when Percy would have seen Dr. McCauley and would have started treatment. But for now, she knew that nothing she could say would help them. So she turned towards Percy and gently vanished his robes and jumper, revealing an ugly bruise, shaped like a hand, on his too-thin and too-bony arm.

Someone beside her gasped and she saw Hermione look at the bruise with fury in her eyes. And she understood the feeling. Because, since she had joined that family and after the end of the War, she had taken to Percy, who was a soft-spoken man, supremely intelligent, and with whom she loved to chat about a good book or some classical music.

She cast a healing spell on his arm, smiling softly when the bruise receded. She draped a blanket on his too thin frame and then she rose, leaving Percy sleeping on the couch.

Everyone was looking at each other with defeated faces, painted with fear and despair. Their eyes were shining with guilt and remorse. And all looked at the lanky but frail form of their brother, son, or brother-in-law.

And all wished, some more than others, to have shielded him from harm.

Notes:

Hello my loves!

So I wouldn't be me if I didn't add a bit of angst on this angsty fic, so here we are. And yes, the torture would have more consequences than just shaky hands: I mean, it put Frank and Alice Longbotton in St Mungo for insanity so...

Anyway, I read too much about heart diseases, but yeah, what do we do for our favourite characters and dear readers, am I right?

And as usual, please, please do comment: I read them all and love them all, and they motivate me to keep working on this fic. And kudos very much appreciated

Love you all,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 42

Summary:

Percy's POV

Notes:

TW: Mentions of heart disease
Slight suicidal thoughts
Mentions of death
Mention of illness

Percy woke up to a throbbing headache and a gentle grip on his hand and knee. Somewhere above his was a quiet chatter and there was a lingering smell of sugary butter.

He opened his eyes slowly to find Fred and George sitting beside him, the former with one hand on his knee, the latter gently holding his hand in his own. His eyes fell on the blanket that was usually thrown over the arm of the couch. Couch where he was currently lying on, he noted dumbly.

His head suddenly throbbed and he let out a low whimper. Instantly, Fred and George’s eyes snapped toward him, and Fred’s face broke into a small grin:

“Mom! Dad! He’s awake”, he called, and Percy winced at the noise.

George threw him a worried look but was quickly replaced by his parents who looked at him with vulnerable faces:

“Oh my baby”, quaked his mother, “How are you feeling?”.

“I’m fine”, he croaked, and oh, his voice hurt.

“Oh, you need to drink!”, exclaimed his mother, making him wince, “Charlie, fetch him a cup of tea please!”.

“Yes mum”, Charlie's voice replied, and quickly he found himself propped against a mountain of pillow, a warm cup of tea in his hands, and his whole family towering in front of him.

He drank the tea slowly. It was warm and sweet and he wondered distantly if Charlie had put honey in it, with the milk, the way he used to drink his tea when he was six.

“What happened?”, he asked gruffly, his voice rough and dry.

But he had to ask. Because he didn’t remember coming home. Mostly, he didn’t remember anything that happened after Stokes said all those things to him. Everything was blurry in his mind. And his headache was pounding in his skull like a gnome dancing in the garden.

But then, to his absolute horror, his mom started to cry. And his dad looked no far behind.

“Oh my baby”, wailed his mother.

He looked at her, feeling completely lost. Because he didn’t remember what happened after Stokes came into his office. And he didn’t know how he got back home. He didn't understand why his head was throbbing so much and why his heart beat so fast. And finally, he didn’t understand why his mother was crying or why his father looked like he was mourning someone.

“I…”, was all he could say before his mother gathered him into a tight hug.

“Oh, my baby. My darling.”

He felt tears fall into his jumper and looked panickly at his father who, to his absolute horror, had started to cry.

“What? Dad? Why are you crying? Mom? Mom, why are you crying?”, he asked, his voice shaking.

But his parents didn’t answer, looking at him like they were seeing some kind of ghost, tears rolling freely down their cheeks.

And then he looked behind his parents and saw his siblings and their significant others. And all lokked devasted. He saw the grief on his oldest brother’s face and his stomach churned. Why Bill was looking at him like that? And then he saw the fear on Charlie’s face, and the pain in George’s eyes. He saw the anger and sadness in Fred’s eyes, and the tears in Ginny’s eyes. And then he saw the despair in Ron’s eyes. And nothing made sense.

“Bill?”, he asked, like a frightened little boy who needed his big brother’s reassurance. “What’s… What’s happening? Why… Why are you all sad?”

And then, Bill's face felt and he replied, so softly:

“Oh Perce. It’s alright. We had bad news that’s all.”

And Percy felt even more lost. His headache didn’t help, and it was making his brain slow because he didn’t understand what Bill was talking about.

“What bad news?”

And then, like a flash of light in the fog of his brain, he wondered: was it about his family? Was someone hurt? And somehow, his muddled brain didn’t get the memo that he should think before he spoke. And he blurted:

“Is someone in the family hurt?”

And it was not the right thing to say. Because Charlie brust into tears, George looked at the wall behind him with anger or grief, Fred looked at his feet, Ron clenched his fists, Ginny bit her lips and Bill closed his eyes. And around him, his mother wept and his father whispered:

“Oh Merlin.”

Percy blinked, and again, and again. His brain was too slow, and everything was foogy in his mind. But someone was hurt. And he knew he must find out who it was. So he looked between all the members of his family, trying to find the one hurt. The one missing. But he came back blank. And his head hurt so much.

“I don’t understand. Who… who is hurt?, he asked softly, a migraine pulsing behind his eyes.

And Bill let out something that was more a sob than a laugh and said:

“Percy. It’s you.”

Percy blinked in quick succession, trying to make sense of everything:

“It’s me what?”

“It’s you who is hurt”, said Bill.

And suddenly everything made sense, and in the same time nothing made sense. Because why would they be sad if he was hurt. The past three days everyone had looked so worried about him but he had explained: he was a coward and so he deserved everything that happened to him. So they didn’t need to be sad or worried.

And he was tired, and his head hurt, and his mouth worked idependently of his brain which was currently drowing in a dark syrupy liquid. So he blurted:

“But why are you sad then?”.

And it was definitively not the right thing to say judging by the sob of his mother, the soft curse of his father, or the tears in his siblings’ eyes.

“Because we care about you, you idiot”, snapped Fred with tears in his eyes.

“And we don’t want to lose you”, added George pleadingly.

“What? Why?”, he asked dumbly.

Nothing they were saying made sense and Percy felt more and more lost. And he just wanted to go to sleep because his head was killing him and his heart had started to beat too much.

“Percy”, said Bill softly. “You fainted and Ron brought you home. And then Fleur examined you, and she told us you have atrial fibrillation. That’s why we’re scared Percy.”

Percy looked at his older brother dumbly and somehow, the only question he could think of was:

“How?”

Bill looked at him with so much grief it was painful. But then he said:

“The Cruciatus curse.”, almost choking on the word, “It didn’t just damage your hands. But your heart too.”

“Oh.”, whispered Percy.

“And we are scared because it could kill you Perce”, added Charlie with a sob. “It would cause your heart to… to malfunction. It’s… It’s killing you Perce.”

His mom looked at him with so much sadness and grief. His dad was not doing much better, fighting to keep his tears at bay. And all of his siblings looked like they were drowning in grief. But the only thing he felt was relief. And so he replied softly:

“Oh. Well, I guess it’s only fitting.”,

“What?”, asked Charlie, sounding a bit strangled.

“Well, me dying, a slow death. It’s only fitting for someone who was too much of a coward to let his best friend die in its stead.”, replied Percy.

Everyone looked at him with some strange sort of disbelief. And then Ginny said:

“But… If you go to the healers, you won’t die Perce.”

And he knew he could. But what would be the point of that? After all, he was responsible for Penny’s death, so why would he try to save himself? And maybe, his family understood that, because then Bill said, voice laced with something akin to horror:

“You don’t want to go to the Healers.”

Percy looked at his oldest brother and smiled softly.

“What?”, almost screamed Fred.

“Is it true?”, asked George.

And he looked at the twins. Who, strangely looked horrified by the idea. And he couldn’t understand why: after all, he would not die yet, so there was no reason to panic. And at the same time, he had still to atone for his faults: letting Penny die in its stead.

And so he looked at his family, at his parents and siblings and significant other. And then he thought of his niece, who was probably sleeping upstairs. And then said softly.

“Yes.”

Notes:

Hello my darlings, so sorry it took so long to update!

I was struggling so much with this chapter: I had to rewrite it like 4 times! And I went on holidays so didn't write a lot!

Anyway, we are well into two thirds of the story so normally we should see Oliver in like 5 chapters? I can't promise anything because as you might have seen for those who are here from the beggining: I can't follow a plan and I write way to much so bear with me please and I promise we will see Oliver before the end of the year.

And as usual comments are very welcome (I've started to notice a few that comment on every chapter so thank you so much) and kudos are appreciated!

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 43

Summary:

Molly's POV

Notes:

TW: Mentions of suicidal thoughts
Mentions of miscarriage

Molly felt like her heart broke, right in the middle and she felt only grief.

How could her son think that is death, slowly or not, may be fitting? May be something people could accept?

“And, I mean, it’s not like me dying would make a difference. If I’m dead I can’t hurt anyone.”, added Percy, like an afterthought.

And then she felt rage. Rage against anyone that hurt her son. Rage against herself for not protecting him more. And, strangely, rage against her own son for thinking she would be alright if he died. And then she felt remorse of even thinking with such anger towards her baby. Towards the flesh of her flesh. Towards the person she loved the most in the whole world, alongside all her children.

Molly could not let her son think it would be alright if he died. She could not let him think that he was anything but her whole life, as any of her children were. She could not let him think that she loved him any less than his siblings. She took his face on her hands and looked right into her son’s eyes:“You were my little miracle Percy. Don’t ever think I would be alright if you died. I would never be alright if I lost you. You were my little miracle Percy. And I love you.”

He looked at her with his too big, too scared, beautiful blue eyes, swarmed with confusion. And she hated the fact that he could be confused by the fact she loved him. But she needed him to know how much she loved him. Even if she had to talk about the darkest time of her life.

“Did I ever tell you that I got pregnant two years after giving birth to Charlie?”, she asked softly.

He shook his head. And every other Weasley sibling shook their head with him. Only Arthur looked at his feet, sadness in his eyes. A sadness she felt too, even thirty years later.

“I felt pregnant two years after giving birth to Charlie. And I know you can count. You’re four years younger than Charlie. That baby… that baby was never born. I had a miscarriage five months into the pregnancy. I knew it could happened, but not so late. And even if I knew it was always a risk, it… It was hard. Really hard. But I had Bill and Charlie to take care of and the war was beginning and  everybody started to live in fear. Your father had decided to join the Order, and was fighting alongside my brothers. So I could not dweel on that loss. But I felt like I might not have another chance at having children.”, she explained.

She took a deep breath, because even thirty years later, she still felt the loss of her unborn child. She still remembered those dark days, of the beginning of the war, days that became darker suddenly, knowing she had lost one of her children.

“And I resigned myself you know.”, she continued, “Resigned to have only two children while I’ve always wanted a whole bunch, six at least. I knew I would love Bill and Charlie all the same, but I resigned myself to be a mother of only two. And then…”, she stopped talking and looked at her son.

She looked at his blue eyes, like his father. At his sharp jaw, like his two uncles he never really knew. At his freckles, a whole starry sky on his face, like herself. She looked at her son. Really looked, like the first time she laid her eyes on her crying infant.

“And then, I felt pregnant with you.”, she resumed. “And you were my miracle Percy. You were born a bit too early and you were too small and I was scared that I would lose a child again. I was scared that I would loose you. But you fought to live. You fought and I was so relieved. Because you were my little miracle again. And I love you all the same way.”, she added, looking at all her children “You’re all my children and I love you all. But Percy, you,”, she said, while looking at her third son in the eyes “you were my miracle. I was blessed by all of you, but Percy, you gave me faith that I could have other children. That I could be a good mom again. So don’t ever think I could be alright with you dying. I could not live if one of you died.”, she amended.

“So my little miracle, don’t ever, ever think that I would be alright if you died.”, she concluded.

Percy eyes were too big, and there were tears that threaten to spill on his cheeks. Arthur clenched his hand on her shoulder. He too, felt the pain again, of having lost a child, even unborn. But contrary to her, he never had that sinking gut feeling, when her child died, that it was his fault. And so he never felt what she felt during her pregnancy with Percy. The fear she would loose a child again. And the encompassing relief when she gave birth to him, knowing she had not failed her new child.

Both of them held Percy in their arms like the miracle he was. But Molly, she felt that miracle, more intensely than her husband. Because, not only did he proved to her that she could be a good mother, but he healed something in her. He healed a part of the grief she felt when her unborn child died and that never really left her before his birth.

“Mom… I… I”, stammered Percy, his blue eyes too big and filled with too much emotions.

“Shh, my darling, it’s alright”, cooed Molly, “But my baby… I don’t want to loose you. So please. For me, for your father, for your siblings. Go to that Healer. And come back to us. Because I can’t bear to loose you.”

“Neither, could I.”, replied Arthur softly, “You’re my son. And I love you. I want you to be healthy and alive. Because I can’t loose my son. I’ve already missed too much of you during the War. Don’t make me live without you. Please”, begged Arthur.

Percy’s eyes were filled with tears and he looked between his parents, looking so lost and confused.

“We can’t loose you too.”, added Fred. Or George. But she could not tear her eyes of her third child to check. “We love you.”

“And… And ever if we never told you we liked you, we do. We really, really like you. Not just because you’re our brother. But because you’re someone we love. And… And you have the best ideas for pranks and…” added George. Or Fred.

“And you are like the glue between us. You’ve… You’ve always found a way to keep the peace at home. And you’re like, so wise like an old man, but like… in a cool way”, added Ginny.

“And you’ve always helped me with school work when we were at home. And you’ve never made me feel bad about it. And… And you taught me how to play chess, which was really helpful but also really nice”, rambled Ron.

“You’ve always liked to talk with me about dragons, and even when you were like so small, you’ve never been bored by it. And don’t think that I don’t know it’s you who sent me that book about the way to treat dragons, when I was working at the Reserve the first year. Even when I was working in a place filled with books about dragons and how to care for them.” Charlie quipped in.

“And you’ve always liked to talk with me about Hogwarts and how life there was, when I went there in first year. And even if you weren’t supposed to know how to, you wrote to me so much. You’ve sent me so many letters every years. More than mom.”, added softly Bill. “So don’t ever think we would be alright if you died.”

And Percy looked between all of them, with so much confusion, fear, disbelief, sadness and somehow relief. And promptly bursted into tears.

And Molly did what any mother would do in such situation : she wrapped her son in her arms and let him sob on her shoulder. Like he had done so many times when he was a child. And like he would do again, anytime he might want. Because she would always hold him, until her dying breath.

Notes:

Hello my darlings,

I loved writing this chapter because parent-child relationships are always so interesting to write.

Also, not me realizing there is a four-year gap between Charlie and Percy and only a two-year gap between the rest of them and *running* with it

And as always : please comment and leave kudos because I'm always giggling when I see the email notification

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 44

Summary:

Everyone POVs + Percy's POV at the end

Notes:

TW: Coming out
Quote of an homophobic slur
Panic attack

Dinner that night was a quick affair that night. Molly Weasley had prepared a hearty stew with vegetables from the garden and a bit of leftover beef from the previous day's Sheperd’s pie. With it on the table were two large loaves of fresh sourdough bread, some homemade salted butter, and a bit of French cheeses Fleur had brought over two weeks ago. And for dessert, she had made an apple and rhubarb cobbler. Everything smelt delicious and the warmth of the stew and the softness of the cobbler were like a long and tender hug after a night out in the cold rain.

Everything was eaten in a matter of minutes, the table drowned into chatter, like every night when there were kids, except tonight it felt more delicate. Softer in a way. Like everyone was trying to grasp the reality of everything that happened today, without wanting to let it take all the space. Such softness wasn’t frequent in the Weasley household. Arthur could recall only three other times when such softness occurred, and all of them arrived during the First and Second Wizarding War against Voldemort.

Squeezed between the twins like the two last days, Percy ate slowly. Everyone was finished with dessert when he finished his stew, softly encouraged by George with a hand on his arm, squeezing softly every time Percy faltered a bit. Molly offered Percy eat his dessert with a chamomile tea in the drawing room with everyone when he looked at her in distress as he realized how late he was compared to everyone else.

And here there all were, the whole Weasley family with significant others included, squeezed into the couch, armchairs and cushions, a warm cup of chamomile tea in hand, some with honey in it, other had opted for sugar and Luna had even added both with lemon and lemongrass as extras. Only Percy had a small plate with rhubard and apple cobbler in his hands, his mug sitting on a coaster on the old and stained coffee table.

Everyone was chatting amicably, not wanting to part yet, relinquishing in the softness of the night in the homey drawing room of the Burrow. But, as everything that is quiet and nice in the Burrow, this soft moment didn’t last. And surprisingly enough, it was broken by Percy.

“By the way. How did I come home? I don’t remember taking the Floo in the Ministry.”

Everyone turned to him and then Ron replied softly:

“I found you passed out in your office, with Hermione, so I brought you home.”

Percy nodded. It felt familar somehow. And logical too: after all, only their father, Ron, Hermione and himself worked at the ministry.

“We’ve met one of your co-workers there. She was very worried about you.”, added Hermione after a beat.

“Oh. Which one?”, asked Percy surprised. He didn’t talk to his co-workers usually: he always preferred the loneliness to the fake cheeriness of some people.

“I don’t know. She had dark skin, darker than Hermione, and dark hair.”, replied Ron.

“Oh. It must be Anita Wright then. She’s nice.”, replied softly Percy, eating a bit of his cobbler.

“Yes. Unlike your boss.”, replied Charlie bitterly.

Percy blinked, confused, towards his older brother. Charlie seemed furious, but he could not understand why. He could not fathom why all his family looked downright murderous to be precise.

“Well… Mr Stokes is a strict boss.”, replied Percy softly.

“An asshole yeah.”, replied Bill.

“I… Well he’s not nice sometimes but…”

“Not nice is an understatement”, muttered Ginny.

“I… Well, he’s not too bad”, stammered Percy, looking a bit terrified but the murderous looks of his family.

“Not too bad? He let you starve for the whole day, and then he had the audacity to bruise you and call you a faggot, but he’s not too bad?”, snapped Fred.

Everyone turned their head sharply towards Fred who looked at his older brother with wide eyes and parted lips. They had all discussed the events leading to Percy’s fainting after Fleur diagnostic, waiting for the third Weasley to wake up. And all had agreed to talk to Percy about it, but not confront him about it. But as usual, Fred’s impatience had gotten the best out of him. And judging by the way Percy’s face lost all colour and the way his hands shook, he really should have voiced it better.

“You… you know”, whispered softly Percy, like a terrified child.

“Yes”, replied Arthur softly, “we know what he said to you today”.

Percy hands shook even more, and the shaking was so bad that the spoon resting on the plate he was holding felt to the floor in a clinking of metal.

“I… I’m sorry”, whispered Percy, tears gathering in his eyes.

Everyone was lokking at him. At his shaking shoulders and his eyes full of tears.

“I’m sorry”, repeated Percy, his voice wavering and his hands shaking.

“Why are you sorry?”, asked George.

“Because… because it’s true… I’m… I’m gay.”

They all looked at him with expressions ranging from compassion to acceptance, from surprise to relief. But they all wore the same expression of understanding and tenderness.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, blubbered Percy, tears rolling down on his cheeks.

And if everyone was looking at the tears, only his parents approached and his dad wiped his tears while his mom run a hand in his long red curls, soothing him while he cried. He cried into the embrace of his parents, continuing to apologise between his sobs, and his parents shushed him softly, letting him cry but anchoring him into their love and acceptance. And around them, his siblings made a strange circle, shielding him from the world and letting him feel.

Percy cried, and cried, and cried. And whilste he cried he felt a weigh lift itself from his chest. A weight he didn’t even knew was here, but a weight that was suffocating him. And he realized whilste he cried that he used to drown under this weight. He felt like a sailor washed ashore who suddenly can breathed easily again. He felt like he used to be lost in the fog and suddenly he had found a lighthouse. He felt the relief was over himself and he left himself fall, realizing that for the first time in his life he was not afraid to fall.

He cried, and maybe it lasted ten minutes, but Percy felt it had lasted hours. Hours of fear and pain suddenly washed away. Hours of self-doubt and hatred reduce to ashes. Hours of sadness and anger thrown to the wind. He felt light. Light as a feather and solid as a oak. And he felt the people around him, holding him to the ground and shielding him from outside.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered. It was more a thank you than an apology, but he didn’t have the right words for expressing what he really felt.

“Hey, no, none of that, it’s alright to be gay. Or queer. Or whatever is the right word”, replied his dad.

Percy shook his head.

“No. Not for that. I’m sorry I cried.”

“Hey”, said his father, holding his face to look at him in the eyes, “None of that. You can cry. It’s alright. We are here for that too.”

And maybe Percy could start believing that. Believing that his family liked him and not just loved him. But for this instant, the doubt still crept inside him, and somehow, must have shown on his face, judging by how his father’s face felt.

“I’m sorry”, said his father softly, “I know I haven’t been here enough before. But I swear I’ll always be here for you. And I’ll wait for you to believe me, but I’ll never let you down again. I swear to you Perce.”

Percy blinked softly. Like he did so often now when he was trying to understand what people were saying. But he nodded slowly and his father kissed him tenderly on the forehead.

“I love you. You’re my son. And I love you so much”, croaked softly his mother and she carded her hand through his soft curls. “I don’t care that you’re gay. All I care about is that you’re happy and safe. So if you want to bring a boy home, you can. I will never stop loving you for that.”

Percy nodded. He felt the love pouring out of his mother and he relinquished in it. But strangely he didn’t want to cry. He just felt safe and serene, understanding maybe for the first time in forever that he was truly safe here.

Notes:

Hello my darlings, are you well?

I'm fine myself, but I realized I've again forgotten about this work, hence the lateness of this update, and I also realized I have to tie up lose ends and make this work slowly but surely progress toward the end because I have two other work in this universe to write and I want to write them but I need to finish this one first. To summarize: I'm realizing that I didn't follow my plan and now I hate my past self for being too involved in this work and not following the plan???

Anyway: Coming-out time! I know it's not like all coming-out experiences but I wanted to write a soft coming out because I want to pay a tribute to my parents who reacted very nicely when I came out has a lesbian. And also because we deserve to see soft and accepting coming out experiences because life is hard enough as it is.

And now, as always: kudos are very welcome (I'm still not over the fact that there is over 500 kudos, like: more than 500 different people found this work good enough to leave a kudos??? I'm going to cry) and comments are food for my soul.

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 45

Summary:

Percy's POV (Kind of)

Notes:

TW: Mention of a character death

Later that night, squeezed between the twins, Percy sipped on his hot chocolate, curtesy of his mother, relinquishing in the warm feeling of love and care he didn’t realized he had missed before. Their parent had gone to bed earlier and the Weasley siblings were left alone, except for their significant others, and were chatting amicably in the dimly lit room.

All of his siblings had hugged him after his coming out and after so much raw feelings for one day, Percy felt a little bit drowsy, so he was content to just sit confortably on the couch between the twins and drink his hot chocolate very slowly, half listening to the conversations around him.

“Hey Perce”, said suddenly a voice to his left and he blinked slowly in the direction of Fred.

“What?”, he mumbled.

“Charlie asked you a question.”, replied George.

Percy turned his head slowly towards his brother who was looking at him expectantly, trying to remember what happened in the last few minutes, his brain muddled by sleepiness.

“What? Sorry, didn’t hear you.”, replied slowly Percy.

“No worries”, replied Charlie, “We are talking about our disastrous love life in Hogwarts or more exactly the disastrous love life of Ginny”,

“Oy! Fuck off”, shouted Ginny.

“What? It’s not my fault you had to kiss Harry before realizing you were a lesbian! Your own brother-in-law! It’s disgusting!”, shouted Charlie,

“Hey, you don’t talk like that about my boyfriend!”, replied Ron, hugging Harry close to his chest.

“I didn’t say he was disgusting! But… You and Gin’ do have similar taste in men, and that’s disgusting”, replied Charlie, making a disgusted face.

“Oh fuck you! Like you’ve never kissed someone before!”, shouted Ginny

“I kissed Tonks and I hated it so it doesn’t count!”, replied Charlie,

“The mother of Harry’s godson and almost adoptive son? The mother of your pseudo-nephew? Talk about disgusting: it’s almost incest!”, replied Ron.

“How is it incest: they weren’t even part of our family. And they were fifteen! And so was I”, replied Charlie.

“Oh shut up.”, replied Ginny.

“No, you shut up.”, replied Charlie. “We were like fifteen, and they were experimenting and so was I. And no it’s not incest, you crazy witch.”

“Well, I experimented too. With Harry. And he doesn’t resent me for it so yeah.”

“Are you calling my boyfriend an experimentation?”, asked Ron, almost outraged, his hand clenching on his boyfriend arm, almost protectively.

“Yes!”, replied Ginny.

And the two of them started bickering like small children, about their choices of lovers and frankly too much-interconnected love life. Percy was trying to follow the course of the discussion, having lost track too many times in this conversation.

“And I’m not bi, I’m pan”, concluded Ron suddenly.

Percy didn’t understand how they had ended here, his sleepy brain unable to process the whole conversation that had happened before.

“Wait. So no one here is bi?”, lamented Charlie. “Fuck, I thought we had almost all of the LGBT set.”

“Not a set”, replied Ginny. “And why do you want the set: are you collecting LGBT people like some sort of Chocolate frog cards?”

“What? No. Just that we have another queer sibling and if Percy is gay, and you lesbian, well I thought since we had Ron we had L, G and B so…”

“Well, I’m not bi, fuck off.”, replied Ron.

“Well… I’m bi, if that helps”, added suddenly Bill.

Everyone turned towards hm with wide eyes and Fred shouted:

“What do you mean you’re “bi”?”.

“Just that I’m bi. I’m married to a woman, obviously, but yeah: men are cool too.”, replied Bill, shrugging.

Everyone looked at him with open mouths, except for Percy who was trying not to fall asleep. And then all of his siblings were shouting at Bill and suddenly, it wasn’t that hard to stay awake.

“One question at a time, please!”, shouted Bill above the ruckus. “Charlie, you go first!”

“How did you know you liked boys?”

“Kissed one, liked it. Next. Fred!”

“Have you ever had sex with a man?”

“Ew, why would I answer that to you, you’re a kid for Merlin’s sake!”, replied Bill, making Fred pout, “But yeah. Once. Liked it too. Now shut up you idiot.”

“What do you prefer: boobs or dicks?”, asked George.

“What sort of question is that?”, despaired Bill, “But boobs I think. And ew, you’re my little brother don’t ask those questions, ew.”

“Does the parents know?”, asked Ron.

“Yep. They’re fine about it too.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about it before?”, asked Ginny, “You don’t trust us?”, she added, timidly.

“What? No, no, no. It’s just, I never felt the need to talk about it. When I told the parents, I was fifteen, and except Charlie, you were all kids, so I didn’t felt like I had to explain that to you. And after it never came up. But no, I do trust you, promise.”.

Ginny nodded and lean into Luna a bit. Everyone had calmed down a bit and the room was again filled with a soft silence.

And then Bill turned to Percy and asked:

“Did you had a question too Perce? It’s okay, you can ask”.

Percy pondered a moment and then asked softly:

“Are you happy?”.

A sad smile appeared on Bill face and he replied:

“Yes. Yes I am Perce. Thanks for asking”.

Percy nodded, smiled at his oldest brother and then lean back into the couch, sipping slowly on his cooling hot chocolate.

The atmosphere was nice and soft and Percy closed his eyes a bit, taking on the softness of evening, the tepid feeling of the slowly cooling hot chocolate, the calmness of room and the warmth of the blanket on his lap.

But then Charlie seemed to have remembered his previous question and asked:

“So yeah Percy, did you kiss any boy during your Hogwarts years?”

Instantly, everyone turned towards Percy, looking at him with expectant eyes. Percy skirmed under the attention but he said softly:

“I’ve kissed boys.”

“Boys? Multiples?”, asked Charlie with a big smile.

“Who? Do we know them?” asked Fred.

Percy felt his cheeks burn and he looked at his lap:

“Cedric”, he mumbled. “And Oliver.”

“What was that?”, asked Ron.

“Cedric”, he repeated louder. “And Oliver”.

“Cedric who?”, asked Ginny

“Diggory”, Percy mumbled.

And if the room was quiet before, it felt into an heavy silence. Everyone was looking at Percy with open mouthes and big eyes. Percy blushed under the attention, and duck his head into his shoulders even more.

“Wait”, asked suddenly Fred, “You kissed Cedric Diggory? Why? How? I mean he was… well he was…”, he moved his hands around trying to describe with gestures the boy that tragically died years ago “and you are… well yourself”, he added, gesturing to the whole body of Percy.

Percy hand clenched on the porcelain cup were his hot chocolate was slowly cooling.

“Because we were friends.”, replied Percy stiffly,

“Wait really? Didn’t clock you for the type of guy that could be friend with him.”, shrugged Fred.

And suddenly something snapped inside Percy. Maybe it was the fact that he was remembered of another friend he had lost to the war. Maybe it was Fred’s condescending tone. Maybe it was the stress of the last few days. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t have anything to hide anymore. And then Percy felt anger. Anger at his siblings, anger at everything that went wrong in his life. Anger at the world and the pain he had endured because of it.

“Is that so difficult to understand? That I had friends once? Is that so difficult to admit? That I’m not a stuck up ponce? That I did had friends at Hogwarts?”

“Wha-“, stuttered Fred.

“We were friend, Cedric and I. I had friends you know, even if you used to call me a stupid ponce, you and George and Ron and Ginny.”, replied Percy, angrily. “Not many yes, but I had friends. And so yes I kissed Cedric, because we were young and friends and oh also: in love.”

Everyone flinched at the sudden outburst.

“Sorry Perce, I didn’t meant it like that…”, replied Fred dejected.

“How did you meant it then? Like I’m too much of a ponce or nerd or moron or whatever to have dated a Quidditch player? Well jokes on you, he’s not the only Quidditch player I’ve kissed or dated”.

Percy was angry. Maybe the day had been too long or the weight of secrecy that had lift from his shoulder had gave him a renew confidence, but he was angry. Angry that no one could believe he had dated people at Hogwards, like a lot of other people did, his siblings included. Angry for everything in the past years. In his whole life if he was honest. He was tired and anger seemed to be the only feeling that his brain could processed.

“I’ve kissed Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, and yes he’s an arse but a bloody gorgeous one. I’ve dated Oliver Wood. I’ve kissed Andrew Crawford when I was fourteen and stupidly drunk, because I had a crush on him and I didn’t knew how to deal with it, because, to my knowledge, I was the only gay kid in the family and I was already too much of a disappointment. So yes, I kissed boys. Four total. Dated two. One of them is dead and the other don’t want to talk to me anymore because of this stupid war. Happy now?”

His hands were clenching too hard on the porcelain cup, his nails grating on the cup.

“You know what? I’m tired. I’m going to sleep. Good night.”

And with that he was gone, leaving behind a half empty cup of cold chocolate on the table. And he didn’t look back at his siblings, that looked at his retreating back with guilt churning in their stomach and shame painted on their features.

Notes:

Hello, hello my darlings, how are you today?

I'm fine, and I'm actually making progress in this fic, woohoo! We now have the mention of Oliver and their past history together. It's going to be a bit angsty their reunion, trust me.

About Bill sexuality: you can't convince me he is not bi or at least a little bit queer. Like, the guy has a ponytail, is extremely well dressed and is charming as fuck and dating a Veela girl but he's straight? Nah, don't buy it. So in my universe, he's bi and we love him for that. Also the Boobs of dick conversation is based on a real conversation I had with one of my queer friends lol.

And I've mentioned this before in the early chapters, but Charlie is aroace for me, so even if it's not mentioned explicitly in this chapter: he is! In this fic, there will be representation, thank you very much.

And now, for my boy Percy: depression is not always linear, and people with depression are not sad all the time. There can be some outburst of anger or genuine moments of happiness. So he's not not depressed, but he is on the road to recovery now, and he will get better. I think I might make a few narrative ellipses to speed things up a bit, otherwise we'll be here for another 400 chapters at this rate.

Anyway, as usual, leave a kudo if you liked this work and please, do comment, I love all of you comments so dearly.

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 46

Summary:

No POV's and then Molly's POV

Notes:

TW: Mentions of depression
Graphic depiction of unclean apartment (emetophobia)

The next fews days were uneventful, except for the fact that Percy was know living permanently at home. His parents had forbidden him from ever putting a foot again at the ministry and he complied easily. The latest events had exhausted him and he could not bear the thought to even hear the voice of Stokes ever again. Not after the slurs he had thrown his way.

Fred had cornered Percy the very next morning and tried to apologize for his past actions but Percy just brushed him off, accepting his apologie before he even had time to finished his first sentence. And Fred had watch him go, retreating in his room, closing the door softly behind him.

That same day, he had called St Mungo about his heart and had been seen immediately by the Healer, who almost teared him to shreds where he standed for not coming sooner. He had listen carefully to all the doctor explanations but he had yet to share the diagnosis with his family.

And then Fred came back, trying to apologize once again. And Percy just shrugged him off. Next had been Ginny. And he brushed her off in a similar fashion. Ron and George tried next and even if their apologies were somehow accepted, none of them believed it. Bill and Charlie had tried too, but he didn’t even let them utter one words before forgiving them. And they knew, without a doubt, that he might have told them he had forgiven them, but they didn’t believe it for one second. And so they waited, trying to convey how sorry they were but small actions and big declarations.

And even if Percy kept accepting their apologies, they kept trying. They had fallen into a sort stange ritual were everytime someone would see Percy, they would try to compete with each other, to prove their apologies were more genuine than the apologies of the others. It got to a point were, one day, Percy shouted at them to just shut up and to leave him alone. Everyone could still hear the slam of his door and the way almost the whole house had shaken because of it. After than, they stopped trying to apologize at every turn. But their guilt kept festering, growing into their stomach and manifesting by some sharp remarks to the others past actions. Sharp remarks that soon dissolved into shouting matches.

It all came to a head when, after an intense shouting match between Bill and Fred about the latter past actions and how he was somehow the sole responsible for Percy pain, Percy packed his bags and said simply:

“I don’t want to ruin the family anymore.”.

And he left, leaving behind his siblings scrambling to prevent him from apparating, his distraught parents who hadn't really understood what had happened that famous night where after Percy quick retreat in his room, they all started to blame each others. He left behind him chaos and confusion and altogether a situation that suddenly seemed as disastrous as the first time he left home when he was barely twenty. A time all remembered with vivid clarity and all hated relieving.

But him leaving didn’t change the fact that all his siblings started to blame each other for his pain again, for having mock him all these years, for having forgotten about him, for not noticing how he tried to disappear, for the Fight, for everything that went wrong in their relationship. And their parents watched with horror how Bill blamed Fred, Charlie blamed Ron, Ron blamed George, Ginny blamed Charlie, Fred blamed Ginny and George blamed Bill, all for Percy suffering. They watch how their children put the blame of this horrific situation on each other, calling them names, throwings insults as they would throw punches. The watched how they started distrusting each other and how, in the middle of all of that, was they shared pain about their brother. The one they almost lost. The one that got hurt to much for them to even process correctly.

“Stop it!”, screamed Molly, cutting the shouting match short. She could not watched her children tears the others down for a pain they hadn’t inflicted. She could not let them hate each other when all they really need was to truth and love each other.

“Stop fighting! It’s not your fault! It was our job as parents to take care of him. To see what was going on. Not you. You’re not responsible for him. We are”, she said, gesturing between her and Arthur.  “We are the one that should have put everything aside and made sure he was all right. Not you. You’re his siblings, not his parents. So stop blaming yourself because the only good it has done so far is too drive Percy away.”

Everyone looked sheppish at those words, some looked at their feet, other chew their lips. Suddenly, they were no longer adults with responsibility but dissobediant childrens, caught doing a prank.

“You’ll apologize to each other because blaming yourselves wont change anything. Now. I’m waiting.”

A chorus of mumbled sorry echoed in the garden and everyone tried to look everywhere but their siblings faces.

“Good. Now, you will go to your rooms and think about what you just did. Because insulting your siblings won’t be tolerated. Your father and I will bring back Percy, because I won’t let my baby be alone one more minute. Now, chop chop, go to your rooms.”

They all nodded, like properly chastised children and went inside, mumbling and grumbling a bit.

“And no more fighting!”, shouted Molly, before disapparating with an audible pop.

She and Arthur apparated in front of Percy’s flat, and Molly softly knocked on the door. She was strangely reminisced of that fateful day, almost two weeks before. That day when she had learn how much she had failed as a mother. The same battered door. The same ugly and cold corridor. The same smell. Only this time, there were not eleven people crowded around that battered door, in that ugly corridor. There were only her and her husband, looking at a close door, thinking of their third born. And of all the mistakes they had made.

The door reminded close and she felt more and more like she was back on that fateful day. On the day she had learn her child pain. On the day she had finally looked at her son and saw him for the first time in forever.

Arthur turned the handle and the door opened with a dull creak that echoed in the silence of the corridor. They entered that desolate and disgusting apartment, the smell somehow even worse than before and they called Percy name. But only the silence responded. The living-room was covered in filth and mold seemed to have taken over the place. The kitchen sink was full of dishes and rotten food, and Molly hated the fact that her son lived here. The bed was unmade and the linens that used to be light blue were almost yellow. The bathroom was cold and not one towel seemed clean. And Molly sweared right there she would get rid of this flat if it was the last thing she did. And she would make sure Percy stayed at the Burrow for the foreseeable future.

“He’s not here, Mollywobbles”, said softly Arthur.

“I know”, replied Molly. And somehow she was glad.

Because they had not found Percy in the flat, and she was glad she hadn’t found her son here. Because she could not bear the fact to see her son live in such terrible conditions.

“But where is he Arthur? Where is our son?”, she questioned.

Because she wanted her son in her arms. Since that fateful day on that cliff, she could not bear the fact to be parted of her son more that strictly necessary. Not when she knew her son was hurt. Not when she knew her son wanted to die.

“I think I know. You remember the cliff?”, he asked, as if she could ever forget about the cliff where she felt like her life had ended.

“I think he might have gone there. To see his friend.”, added softly Arthur.

She nodded. And then they apparated once more. Because she would not return home without her son. Not now. Not ever.

Notes:

Hello my loves,

The past few days, I've received so much love on that work that I had to keep writing it, so for the next few days, I might be able to post one chapter every two or three days.

Anyway: first ellipsis, because this work is starting to drag a bit and we need to move on the next part, so more ellipsis to come after this one.

I also remade the plan for this work an I think I might be able to do like 75 chapters, maybe 80 chapters and this work will probably be around 80K or 90K depending how things go.

And soon, we might see Oliver Wood and have some kind of romance (and bear with me because I'm not great at writing love stories)

Anyway, thats all for today, I hoped yu liked this chapter: if so, please do comment and leave a kudo.

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 47

Summary:

Percy's POV

Notes:

TW: Suicidal thoughts
Mentions of character death

It was raining on the cliff. It was always raining on the cliff. Maybe he should have chosen another plae to bury her, but he wanted to bury her in a place where she could see the sea. She had always loved the sea. When they were kids at Hogwarts, she had showed him pictures of her holidays at the beach. She was always smiling the most on those pictures.

He sat down in the damp grass, looking at her gravestone. The charm he had put to preserve the stone and the place was still holding and no moss, no lichen, no dirt was dirtying the stone. And he was glad. Because she should have the perfect resting place. A perfect place for a perfect girl.

The small bouquet of flowers indicated him that her parents had visited during the two weeks he hadn’t. It was good. She should not be alone.

“Hello Penny. It’s been a while. Well it’s still sooner than the last time. The last time, I think I hadn’t visited you in like three? Four months? It was too long anyway.”

She sound of the sea crashing on the rocks below and the smell of the petrichor enveloped him.

“I’ve told the truth to my family. The whole truth. Your death. My sexuality. Everything. Maybe you saw it. I kinda screamed about your death here so… well.”

The wind was cold and his fingertips started to turn slightly blueish.

“I think you would have been proud. I also call out my siblings about their tauting at Hogwarts.”

He breathed deeply the smell of petrichor and sea salt.

“You always told me to confront them about it, so yeah, it did. I just wished you would have seen it. It didn’t go well by the way.”

The rain poured down on his hands again, and again, and again, and every drop that crashed against them slid down his skin, along his fingers and onto the grass.

“I think I’ve ruined my family Penny. They are always screaming at each others and I know it’s my fault. If I’ve just kept my mouth shut, like usual, they would not have fought.”

Somewhere, a soft crack was heard.

“If I had just been better, they would not have fought. If I had just, suck it all up, they would not have fought.”

Tears mixed with rain rolled on his cheek and on his chin before falling on the grass of the grave.

“I can’t do it Penny. I can’t be the reason for people's pain. They told me they love me and now they are suffering. You loved me and now you’re dead.”

The wind was cold and cutting, the grass damp and the sea was howling while crashing on the rock below the cliff.

“Why am I like that Penny? Why must I been the reason behind everybody’s pain? Why can’t I just be normal?”

He could hear soft voices in the distance.

“I’m just a fucking disease. All I touch I hurt. All I love, I destroy.”

His jumper was drenched and his hands were shaking more than usual.

“I told them about Cedric and Oliver and Marcus and Andrew. I told them how the first boy I dated is dead and how the second one hates me since I sided with the Ministry.”

Tears rolled on his cheeks, cutting his skin and leaving him raw.

“I hate myself and all the pain I caused.”

Voices were coming closer, and he knew thoses voices.

“My mom told me I was her miracle, and I wanted to believe her. But all of the facts prove that I’m just a stupid parasite. I live because you died for me. I’m sick because of the Cruciatus curse and the doctor wants to give me some sort of treatment for helping me live. But if I do that, I’ll take someone else chance to be healed. And I don’t deserve to be healed. I don’t deserve to be anybody miracle of love or whatever. I just deserve the pain. I just want to die!”

Sobs racked his lithe frame and he wailed, curling on himself on top of his bestfriend grave.

“I can’t live. I wasn’t supposed to live. I was supposed to die. It was always the plan. I was the expendable one, the one no one would miss. I was the one that could be sacrified. Not you. Not anyone else. I choose to do that so my parents could be proud of me for once, but I was supposed to die for it. Not you. Never you.”

“You’re not expendable Percy.”, said a soft but broken voice behind him.

He tensed. He was supposed to be alone here.

“You’ve never been expendable. And I was always proud of you. Merlin, I was so proud of you. And I’m still so proud of you for everything you’ve done. Even if you hadn’t done anything I would still be proud of you.”

His father croutched beside him, his knees cap popping audibly.

“I’m proud of you because you’re my son. Because you’ve always have been a kind spirit and a bright child. I’m proud of you because you are my son. Because you exist. Because you are a fighter.”

He could not move. He could only cry under the rain.

His mother crouched on his other side.

“I love you my darling. I told you you’re my miracle. My son, my sunshine, my little dove. You are not a parasite. You are my son, who is worthy of love. You are not expendable. None of your siblings are.”

He felt the cold of the rain seep into his bones.

“I know I should have done better to protect you. To shield you from all of the pain. I don’t know when I got wrong, what I did wrong, but I did. And I’m sorry, if I ever made you believe you could be anything but the most important person on that planet.”

“And I’m sorry if I’ve never told you before how proud I was of you. How proud I was when you learn how to read before all of your siblings. When you solved your first crossword alone. When you came home with top marks in your first year. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you doubt the fact that I was proud of you just by you existing.”

“We are sorry we failed you.”

His shoulders where shaking and he didn’t know what to say. He gasped for breath and air was burning his lungs. He was drowning in his own body and fighting to live, just another second. He was burning on the inside-out, his body slowly killing itself.

“I’m sorry I failed.”, he croacked finally. “I’m sorry I made everyone angry. I’m sorry”

“No one’s angry Percy.”

He curled on himself more, if it was even possible.

“But everyone was shouting. And it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault Percy.”

“Yes it is!”, he wailed, “You can’t seen that I’m the problem? That since you’ve learn the truth, all you do is suffer?”

“Because we love you.”

“Well you shouldn’t!”, he wailed. “Loving me is a disease! Loving me hurt! Loving me is wrong!”

“It’s not Percy!”

He leapt to his feet and turned to his parents, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Then why do I hurt you so much? Why do I hurt so many people around me, if it’s not the fact that you love me? Tell me!”

“Love hurts but it’s not wrong! It hurt because we love you and we don’t want you to fell pain! But you cannot stop us from felling that pain. That pain is worth it Percy. That pain is what makes life worth it!”

“But you should not be hurt. You should be happy and safe and...”

“And we get all that because we love you! Love is not just pain! Love is so vast, so precious. We laugh because we love, we feel happiness because we love. We are safe because we love. And we fell pain because we love. We feel sadness because we love! Love is everything. Love is what makes us humans!”

Percy was stunned, looking at his parents with eyes brimming with tears and rain that mixes with tears and snoot.

His mother rose to his feet, followed by his father.

“Love is wat makes life worth it. Love is what made you try to save everyone. What made you try to protect Penelope. Love is what made you feel. So don’t try to deprive us off our love. Our love for you is what make our lifes, the lives of your sibliblgs worth it.”

“But they are angry and sad because of me…”, he hiccuped.

“They are not sad or angry. They are afraid. Afraid they will loose you. And they are blaming themselves because they love you. They are blaming themselves the same way you are blaming yourself for Penelope death. They are blaming themselves because they are grieving. And grief is just a proof we love. And it’s not wrong. Love is not wrong but love is not easy either. Love is what make emotions grow stronger.”

“Love is the reason and the blame. Love is the answer and the question. Love is complicated, but so is life. Because love and life are linked Percy. We live and so we love. And when we grieve, we love. You can’t blame yourself for the fact that we love you because loving you is a gift Percy.”

And then he broke. He screamed and wailed and cursed. He screamed for the love he had given, the love he grieved. He wailed for the pain he received and the pain he inflicted. He cursed at the world and at the darkness. And he let himself fall into penitence, letting the rain baptise him as he atoned for his sins.

Notes:

Hello my loves, are you well? If you are, don't worry, this chapter will make you cry

Talking about depression and suicide is kind of a recurring theme in this fic but don't worry, I will let him heal and become a badass motherfucker who will beat some (many) people's ass and be the rightful hero we all know he is. That being said, healing is a journey not a straight path and it will take some time.

And if you are suffering, seek help: a stranger on the internet, a friend, a therapist, a doctor you trust, a helpline. Don't stay alone in this.
Here are some ressources I'va already posted in a previous note but are still useful:
https://sossilenceofsuicide.org/
0808 115 1505 (Hotline for people feeling suicidal UK)
https://www.mhanational.org/resources/988
1-800-273-TALK (Hotline for people feeling suicidal USA)
3114 (Hotline for people feeling suicidal France)

And now, back to my general talk about writing and this work: the past few days, I've received so much love on this work that it boost me to keep writing. I've started to write for me first, but now, I write mostly for you my darlings and it's a wonderful feeling. So even if you don't know what to say, leave a kudo or a short comment because it makes me really, really happy to read them.

Alright, that's all for today, take care of you my darlings.

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 48

Summary:

Arthur's POV

Notes:

TW: Mentions of suicidal thoughts
Mentions of depression

They came home, completely drenched, and between them, shivering and drowsy, Percy held their hands for dear life. Arthur looked at his son and wife and slowly, together, as a family, they made their way up the stairs, towards Percy’s room. Molly made a quick run for the bathroom, bringing brightly coloured towels and Arthur just held his son closer. Because he knew that if he ever let him go, he would shatter on the floor like a cristal doll.

He helped Percy sit on the bed and rummaged his drawer for the softest pyjama possible. He brought it to Percy at the same time Molly brought him towels. He dried himself and then put on the pyjama. They were too big on him and Arthur heart clenched when he saw how small his son looked in them.

They sat all three on the bed, holding Percy in a strong but soft embrance, letting him rest his head on his mother chest and slofly drift to sleep. After a few moments, filled with tenderness to keep the heartbreak at bay, Molly, slowly disentangled herself from the embrace and laid Percy head carefully on his shoulder. And Arthur held his son against him while he slept as his wife went down to cook the dinner.

Having his son in his arms after his umpteenth breakdown in just a few weeks was devastating. Because, as his son slept in his arms, he realized how he hadn’t hold him in such a long time. How he had only held his son for the first time in forever after learning how a forbidden cursed had destroyed his hands. And his heart as well, his mind supplied him unhelpfully. How he had only held his son when he was in pain.

He looked at the face of his son. At his dark circle that where more black than blue. At his proeminent cheekbones where he used to have a more round face. At his hair, longer that it used to be, red and fiery but who suddenly looked comically bright by contrast with how pale his skin was. He looked at the figure of his sleeping son and tried not to weep. Tried not to cry while he took everything that his son now was and what he used to be. Tried not to wail when he grieve for his son and the pain he had endured.

He didn’t know how long he spent, looking at his sleeping son and hating himself for having let him suffer that much, but night had almost fallen when his wife came into the room to call him for dinner. He laid softly Percy head on his pillow and kissed his forehead, blinking back tears, and then he followed his wife out of the room.

Walking down the strairs felt like a torture, leaving his son alone in a dimly lit room, to go see his others children who were grieving for their brother. And entering the room to see, sitting around the table all his children and significant others, and then seeing the obvious lone chair next to Fred, felt like a stab in his heart. Because this table looked exactly how it would have looked his Percy had not came back from the war. And that thought was unbearable.

A lone tear rolled down his cheek and he quickly wiped it before any of his children could see it. It was his grief and he could not share it to his children. Not when they were grieving to. Not when letting them see that tear would destroy them. So he walked slowly toward the table and sat in his chair, trying his best not to look at that lone chair.

“Let’s eat”, he said softly when he felt the eyes of everybody in the room on him.

And everyone ate. They ate in an absolute silence, breaking it only to ask for bread or water. The silence was heavy, weighting above them like lead, wrapping its sinuous fingers around their throats, suffocating them. The silence was killing them slowly and the thought of Percy, lying alone in his room was slowly poisoning their heart. Arthur thought distantly that if the silence would not kill him first, the thought of his third son’s pain surely would.

He ate slowly, the food tasted like ashes in his mouth but he forced himself to finish. If not for him, for his wife that had cook for almost two hours, leaving him alone with their fragile, battered, broken son. Their son that was now sleeping alone in a room two floor up.

He finished quickly and took time to look at his family. At the red rimmed eyes of Charlie. At the broken look of George. At the downcast face of Bill. At the broken anger in Fred eyes. At the hushed shoulders of Ron. At the clenched jaw of Ginny. At the vulnerable look in his wife eyes. And at the sad smile of Victoire, too young to understand the pain of the family, but tainted by the grief notheless. And as he looked, he waited for his family to finish eating.

And then, he looked at his children’s partners and asked:

“I would like to speak to my children.”

And without protest but with gestures of love and tenderness, Hermione, Harry, Luna, Fleur and little Victoire left the table, leaving behind a broken family they were suddenly not completely part of.

And then all eyes were on him. He interwinded his fingers on the table and took the time to look at everyone of his children. Looking at their grief and sorrow, all too young to have live the horrors of wars and their aftermath.

“I need to tell you what happened with Percy this afternoon. But I have to tell you one thing first. What happened to him during the war was not your fault. It never was and it never will be. And I know you might feel guilty, but you shouldn’t. Because you weren’t the ones that hurt him.”

Some opened their mouths, maybe to protest, maybe to acquiesce, but he raised a hand, stopping them from speaking.

“I need you too understand that, because the numerous fights that happened this week are the result of this guilt. And Percy believes he’s the one responsible for your guilt.”

And again, some tried to speak, and Arthur didn't wait to hear what they were going to say.

“Your brother is hurt. And he believes the fact that you love him is the reason for your pain. And I know it is not a bad thing, it just the way grief works. But your brother believes, and I’m sorry to have to quote his words, but he believes that “loving him is a disease”.”

There were some gasps at those words. Gasps of pain and horror, gasps of grief and heartbreak.

“He told us we should stop loving him. That loving him will only hurt you. And he might say that again. But you have to be patient with him alright? Because he’s really hurt, and he needs time to heal. So try to remind him that he’s loved and that loving him is worth it, alright?”

Many nodded, some mumbled a quick yes, and in Fred’s case, he clenched his hands on the table before nodding quickly but firmly.

“Now, I have to tell you some things he said when we went to get him, and it’s going to be difficult to hear alright? So if at anytime, you need a break, we will take a break alright?”

A chorus of yesses replied to him. He took a deep breath, clenched his intertwined fingers and then started recounting:

“We found him on the cliff. He had gone to the grave of his friend, Penelope. I can’t tell you exactly what he said before we arrived, but when your mother and I arrived, he was saying how he wanted to die. How he had planned to die, from the moment he started those papers.”

There was a gasp, then a sob. He looked up to find Charlie with his hands pressed in front of his mouth, tears threatening to fell. In an instant, Molly had her arms around him, shushing him softly with a kiss of his forehead.

Bill looked right in front of him, hands clenched on the table. Ron had grabbed Ginny’s hand and George had two single tears running on his cheek, in a perfect symmetry. Fred glared at the table, but Arthur could see the very distinctive flicker of tears in his eyes.

“And”, added Arthur, closing his eyes to prevent the fall of his own tears, “he had said that, he could die, because.”, he stopped himself, his throat closing on a sob, “because. Because he’s expendable.”.

And then the tears in Fred’s eyes falled from his eyes. Bill hand clenched even more, if it was possible. Charlie dissolved into sobs in his mother’s arms. Ginny put a hand in front of her mouth. Ron looked sick and his face turned deadly pale. And George wrapped his arms around himself, tears falling in two perfecty symmetrical straight lines.

And Arthur could only look at his family, looking at their grief and pain and he wished, for the umpteenth time since he had learn the truth about his third son, that he could have shield them from all this pain. And he wondered for the umpteenth time in the past two weeks if he should have stop that stupid fight from happening. Because if he had, his son might have not thought that sacrificing himself to save others was the only thing that would make him, his father, proud. And he wondered once again how much he had failed his son and family.

Notes:

Hello my loves, it's me again:!

This week, I offer you a beautiful chapter filled with angst and tears <3 I think writing parents' POV are my favorite thing. I think I'm taking a lot from my own parents in regards to the unconditionnal love those character depicts in my stories but I add my little twist with depression and slightly dysfunctionnal families (because, who wants to read happy stories really?)

I listen to Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens while writing this chapter and man I cried so hard. My hands were shaking by the time I finished writing this chapter but I think it's a good one (well I hope so): tell me in the comments if you liked it or not (you can tell me if you didn't liked it of course)

Depression his always something really difficult and it can affect not only the depressed person but their family and close friend and I think it's not always talk about. So here I wanted to show that depression is affecting everybody and it can be difficult to deal with it, for everyone involved.

Anyway: kudos and comments are very welcome as always

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 49

Summary:

Fred's POV

Notes:

TW: Mentions of workplace harassment
Mentions of suicidal thoughts
Mentions of depression

He laid on his bed, eyes opened, looking at the darkness like it could give him an answer. His father had told them how Percy wanted to die, how he believed he was expendable. Like they wouldn’t miss him like a lost limb if he had died. Like they would still be intact if they had come back from that war with one of them missing.

And so Fred laid on his bed, eyes wide open, looking at the darkness, trying to find an answer, an idea, anything. Anything but the thought of loosing his brother. Anything but the thought of a empty chair at the table, just like today. Anything but the terrifying void in his chest at the idea of them being six and not seven.

Seven was a magical number, as well as three. He was never the best at Arithmancy, but he knew that at least. Seven. They were seven, and Percy was supposedly the reason why their parents tried to have that many kids. Their mother had been pregnant seven time and even though whe had lost one child, she still managed to have seven children. They were seven and during the war they had been six. Six because they drove away Percy. Seven seemed to have protected them all those years, but the one time they were not seven but one and six, they all had been hurt and Percy the most. And it should mean something. Because when they were seven they were safe.

He turned on his bed, again, and again, trying to find sleep but it seemed to evade him at every turn. So he waited and he fought the screams that wanted to break free from is throat. He fought the grief that masked itself as anger and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And as the sun rose slowly in the morning sky, he realised he still hadn’t a response for all that pain his brother endured, all that suffering and that heartbreak. But he was now sure of one singular thing. One simple but oh so important thing: they were seven and that number had protected them. So he would make sure that they stay seven. Seven siblings. Seven lives.

He got out of bed as the blue sky was still tinted by pink and gold and went down the stairs. The house was still asleep but he could not stay in that bed for a moment longer. He made a quick stop by the kitchen and grabbed a cup of tea. And then he sat down in the drawing room. He had to think of a way to make sure they would stay seven. And to make sure of that, he had to make sure Percy stayed. Not only because they had to be seven. But because he couldn’t bear the idea of losing his brother.

And so he started to plan.

And the next day he kept planning.

And the next day too.

And it went on for a full week before he got an Idea. Not a simple idea, a brilliant one. But for this idea to work, he had to go to his forever partner in crime, his second half: his twin brother. And so, one afternoon, when they were at the Burrow for teatime and to spend some time with Percy, he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to their shared room. Deaf to the protests of his twin, who was trying to go back to Percy, he pushed him on the bed.

And then he started explaining his plan. Plan that took the whole week to create, to the point he had almost forgotten about Percy, and everybody else, existence. And so, if, for the most part of the week, everybody had walked on eggshell around Percy, hugging him when they could, making sure he ate, covering him with affection, to try to help him, Fred had ignored him. Maybe it was wrong or bad, but he he was planning. He had to plan for his Idea. And so he could not stop, even if he wanted to. He could not stop even if he wanted to hug his older brother and put him under a blanket and protect him until the ends of time.

His plan was fairly simple, but it required the help of the whole family. The first step was making him resign from the Ministry. The second one was more difficult: it was to convince Percy to work with them at the shop. And the third one was to make him live with he and George, in their shared flat above the shop.

Those steps were fundamental, as he explained to his twin who looked extremely confused. Because those steps had one and only goal: to prove to Percy he wasn’t expendable by making him realise how irreplaceable he was. And working at the Ministry couldn’t work, because the Ministry was filled with replaceable workers. But working at their shop where there was only one employee besides themselves was making him, de facto, irreplaceable.

If he was honest, Fred had a secret goal with his plan: and this goal was to have Percy within his sight at all time, to make sure he wouldn’t try to disseapear suddenly. Of course, they could always keep living at the Burrow. But Fred could see in the way his mother’s shoulders hunched how tired she was with the added work. How the constant state of chaos was weighting on their parents who were trying their best for Percy. And so he had to make sure Percy was always near him whilste preserving his parents.

Because he was not the most sensible of the bunch but thet didn’t make him blind either. And yes, he could always offer his parents more help, but he was still selfish and so he wanted to keep Percy for himself. And if he was honest, it was his way to atone for his past mistakes. Because if their fights the week before had prove him one thing, it was the fact that, of all his siblings, he was the most guilty. Guilty of having made Percy suffer during their childhood. And even after. Guilty of having forgotten about his brother and fulled his pain.

So, as he explain his plan, without mentioning his guilt or his hidden reasoning, he saw the way George expression changed. How it went from complete incomprehension to relief to almost amazement.

And George agreed, rather quickly if Fred was honest. And so they began to plan together. Because if his Idea was great, they had to make a Plan. And a really good one, because they would have to convince not only Percy but their whole family. And convincing one Weasley was something, but convincing seven Weasley was something else entirely. And convincing seven Weasley including six with an hyper protective streak toward the other one was even more difficult.

And so they planned. In secret in the darkness of their shared room at the Burrow, in quick passing in their workshop, in detail during their lunch breaks.

They planned.

And planned.

And planned.

And then, two weeks after the introduction of The Idea by Fred to George, Fred and George had a plan. An infaillible plan.

And then it was finally time to execute that plan.

Notes:

Hello my loves!

The last chapter was a bit difficult for me to write, because of all the themes it covers. On the contrary, this chapter was much easier to write and I hope it will be more enjoyable to read, as it deals with less complicated themes.

This chapter is one that helps me make this story move a bit faster because we are almost at 50 chapters and I have plan for this story to be less than 80 chapters so I have to move on a bit.

Any comments or criticism on my work is welcome and every kudos are appreciated.

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 50

Summary:

Bill's POV

Notes:

TW: Mentions of depression

The twins were planning something, he was sure of it. They were secretive, spending more time than usual in their room, always glancing around them like they did when they prepared a prank. And so Bill was on edge. Because now was not the time for one of their pranks. Percy was hurt, sleeping a lot, not eating enough and always looking like one small breeze could knock him over. And in the back of Bill mind, ringed the warning of their father about how Percy wanted to die. How he had planned to die.

So while he was slowly panicking about his little brother and watching him like a strange hawk mixed mother hen, he was also keeping an eye out for the twins. They were twenty-five and he hoped they were not stupid enough to try to pull a stupid prank right now, but it was the twins. And the twins had never been serious their whole life. So he kept watching all his siblings and was trying not to have another mental breakdown like he had when he first listened to his little brother's screams and then him explaining how he had been tortured so much that the nerves in his hands broke definitely.

The days passed and he continued to observe Percy and the twins. And while the former looked increasingly tired despite sleeping almost twelve hours a day, the latter looked almost cheerful, which was absolutely terrifying. Bill hoped they hadn't played a stupid prank, but his hopes seemed to be dwindling as time went by. And exactly as he thought, one days during tea time the twins turned towards Percy with some kind of mischief twinkling in their eyes.

“Hey Perce”, called Fred.

“We were wondering”, added George.

“If you want to come with us tomorrow”, conclude Fred.

“Come with you where?”, asked Percy, confusion painting of his face.

“To our shop. We kind of need your help.”, replied George.

At that, Bill intervened:

“Guys, Percy needs a break, leave him alone. We can help if you want but Percy needs to rest.”.

George looked at him a bit startled but Fred turned towards him and said:

“It’s alright Bill, but Perce here is the best for that kind of stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”, asked Bill.

“Stuff with numbers. Percy’s the best for that. Aren’t you Perce?”, asked Fred.

Percy looked at the twins with big eyes and replied softly:

“Well, I don’t know, I’m not that good, I…”

“Pshh, don’t worry, you’re the best. Thanks Perce!”, replied Fred.

“We leave for work at 9 tomorrow, come with us.”, added George, leaving not place for a rebuttal.

Percy nodded softly and the twins beamed at him.

“Guys”, tried Bill, “I really think that…”.

“Don’t worry William, everything’s fine. Percy as said it’s alright. Don’t you Perce?”, replied Fred.

Percy nodded slowly and Bill relented. If the twins wanted to be stupid, fine. But their stupidity would soon came to bite them in the ass, he would make sure of it.

And so the next day, Percy left with the twins. And surprisingly, came back with a smile. Not a big smile like he used to, but a soft smile, filled with joy rather than sadness.

“Hey Perce, thanks again for the help today!”, called Fred with a big smile.

“You think you can come tomorrow too? I think Fred made some mistakes in the ledger, you can take a look at it?”

And Bill wanted to say no, that it was enough, that Percy needed to rest. But then Percy smiled a bit more and replied:

“Yes, no problem. I’m sure it will be quick”.

And the next day he came home, still smiling.

And the twins kept asking for help, about their books, their ledger, the stock, the inventory, their products, the review, the best way to perfect one spell or another. And Percy always smiled and accepted. And slowly, he started to smile more, his eyes were less empty. It was not perfect, but somehow, it was working.

And then the twins took their Dad and Hermione apart and somehow, the both of them joined them in their mysterious scheming. And then they added Ron, somehow.

And before he could understand what was going on, they cornered him one afternoon, right after tea, and dragged him to the garden. He followed the twins, a bit warry of their actions, but he followed them nonetheless. Outside, the sun was still high, basking the fields filled with flowers in a golden glow.

“How do you created the same protective wards that we have in the Burrow?”, asked Fred

He blinked in quick succession and looked at the twins in confusion.

“What do you mean?”, he asked slowly.

“You know. The wards for good health, good sleep, happiness and all that.”, replied Fred.

“The one’s that Mom and Dad reinforce every year at Mabon.”, added George.

“The… you mean the protective wards we had for like five generations?”, he asked in disbelief.

“Yeah those. You know how to make them?”, asked Fred.

“I… I guess. Well I could try. But why do you want to know that?”, he replied, confused.

“Well, because, we need someone to ward Percy’s flat so we can be sure he’s well rested. We’ve ask Ron to make detecting wards to indicate if Percy is in pain or hurt, cause, his heart, you know”, George trailed off,

“And so we need you to put the ward for good health, good sleep, all that.”, added Fred.

Bill lokked at the twins dumbly and tried to make sense of everything.

“Wha… Why are you doing all this?”, he asked

“Well, because it’s for Percy. We’ve asked Dad and Hermione to help with his Ministry resignation. Well he doesn’t know they are working on it but that not important. We have asked Ron for the detecting wards. We have asked you for the protective wards. We need to ask Mom for helping cleaning the flat, Charlie for a pet that could help with Percy, and we need to ask Ginny for a sport program to help with his mental health.”, recited Fred.

“Oh and we need to ask Luna for protective charms and trinkets. I think Percy likes them. And Hermione for some muggle books. Oh and Harry for some Mind-healer recommendation. And maybe painting, because Fleur said that painting could help with the tremor. Some kind of physical therapy for his hands?” added George.

“Oh. And we plan to ask him to keep helping with the business so he can have something to do in the day, but for now our excuses are working really well, and Lee is covering for us.”, added Fred.

“I'm sure he's trying to sabotage his work so we have more things to ask Percy for help with.”, said

Bill looked at his brothers with disbelief and pride. They had planned a perfect plan to help with Percy’s health and mental health. And they had planned to include the whole family in it.

“You’ve planned all this?”, he asked, voice cracking with awe and overwhelming pride.

“Yup. Since Dad told us about how Percy fought he was expendable.”, replied Fred

“To be honest, it was Fred idea. I just helped with the planning and execution.”, added George.

“Well, no matter. It is incredible. I’m so proud of you”, he replied in awe.

Fred and George beamed at the praise, and for a moment, Bill forgot they were twenty-five, and adults with their own lives. In this instant they were the small children he always knew, looking at him with awe and seeking his praises. They were no longer the fiery adult, running a business that has been doing well for several years. They were the small children that made their first brust of accidental magic and charmed a cake to change colours.

“So, you’ll help?”, asked Fred eagerly

“Yes, I’ll help.”, replied Bill with a smile.

And judging by the beaming smile of the twins and the way they rushed into the house, he knew he had made the right decision. In the next few days, the twins took aside Ginny, Charlie, their mom who eagerly accepted the tasks offered by the twins. He was sure he saw tears in his mother eyes, but she was quick to disappear in her kitchen so he could not check any longer.

Harry and Luna wholeheartedly agree to take part in the twins' plan, which they have soberly dubbed “Operation Percy”. And during the whole ordeal, they made sure to hide the Operation from the main interested party: Percy himself.

And after two weeks of intense preparations, the “Operation Percy”, was now complete. It had been a a month and a half since the day that their world had been throw upside down. A month and a half since they realized they never really knew their brother or son. A month and a half since they really lokked at Percy and saw the shell of the man he use to be. And now, a month and a half after the start of this ordeal, they had a goal. A clear goal, with clear steps. And the first of those steps was to convince Percy to work full time with the twins and live with them, until they felt it was safe enough for him to live alone again.

Notes:

Hello my darling, pardon me for my tardiness.

To be perfectly honest with you, I've been dealing with a lot of anxiety the past week and had some big panic attacks so I haven't been able to work a lot on this work which deals with some heavy subjects. So I hope I can count on your understanding.

That being said, I've written a bit more of the latter chapters so it's not really stuff that will appear in the next few chapters but it's helping me to steadily steer this work towards the ending. But my anxiety is kind of a big obstacle sometimes so I hope you can understand that it might take a while between two updates due to my mental health.

I have planned a lot of the story and don't plan on abandoning it, don't worry about it, but I might have some difficulty updating every two or three days and I might have too update every week or so. I hope it's alright with you.

Your feedback on my work is always something I look forward to reading and it gives me great pleasure to find out what you thought of each chapter, so I'm really grateful to have so many people reading my work.

This time, I won't ask you for more kudos or comments, but just your understanding of my mental health, and I hope I can count on your support until the final chapter of this work.

With all my love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 51

Summary:

Percy's POV

It had been almost a month since the twins started to ask for his help, almost every day. Four weeks to be exact. And he didn’t mind the work. It was actually kind of nice. It was working on their ledger, and frankly Percy wondered how the Magical Revenue and Customs Office had not thrown a fit at the look of their ledger. Wrong date, wrong products names, purchases entries in the sales columns. Invoices lost in the pile of administrative papers, receipt used as a coaster. It was terrifying but he liked that work. It was always entertaining at least and he had some heated arguments with the twins about the state of their administrative work.

But despite the fact that for four weeks he had worked with the twins, refusing to even put a foot into the Ministry, he could not stay away from his place of work any longer. His Dad had handed the paperwork when he took a leave of absence from work, but it was for only five weeks, and he was quicky approaching the end of his time off work.

So one night, at the dinner table he said simply that:

“I have to go back to work in two days, so I’m afraid I can’t help you anymore”, he explained to the twins, between whom he was currently sandwiched.

He expected sad faces, maybe some objection. He had prepared arguments, explanations. He didn’t expected a simple:

“No you don’t. But you can take the day off if you want”, said Fred.

He blinked softly at the rebuttal and replied:

“But I have to go back to the Ministry, I don’t really have a choice. I still have my job at the Ministry. I know it’s not a good one, but I have too. I have to earn money.”

The twins gave him a look he could not decipher and his father explained then:

“They’re right. You don’t have to go back to the Ministry. And you can take the day off, the twins won’t mind.”

He blinked confused and stammered:

“But… No, I still have my job. I have to go back to the Ministry. I don’t have any days off left.”

“No you don’t”, replied Fred, whose face was strangely confused.

He opened his mouth and closed it, before opening it again and stuttered:

“What do you mean no I don’t? I had four weeks of paid leave, I used them all, I have to go back.”

“No.”, replied George.

“Yes I have. I have a job there and…”

“You don’t have a job at the Ministry.”, replied Fred.

At that, all conversations stopped and Percy’s thought came to a screeching halt.

He tried to wrap his head around Fred’s affirmation. What did he mean by “you don’t have a job at the Ministry”. As far as he knew he had left with a sudden leave of absence from work after his altercation with Stokes, but he still had the job. Or maybe Stokes was so fed up with him that he was fired?

“What do you mean? I’m fired?”, he asked, and his voice broke on the last word.

Everyone was looking at him and he was shaking. Because he had left, scared of Stokes and his hurtful words, but he hadn’t think he would go as far a fire him.

“I… I shouldn’t have left. He… He would not have fired me. I… I… I’ve lost my job?”, he whimpered.

Everyone was looking at him, and this time he saw the incredulity in their looks. The confusion in their eyes.

“What? No. We made you resign.”, explained Fred.

And suddenly nothing made sense. He wasn’t fired, that was sure, but he still had lost his job? He had still lost his only source of income.

“I… What?”, he asked, confused.

“Well, we, I mean Dad, Ron and Hermione helped you resign, so you could leave your work and that stupid boss of yours.”

He blinked slowly and then in a whisper, that should have been a shout, he asked:

“You made me resign from my job… without me knowing?”

And suddenly there was chaos around the table.

“I thought you told him!”

“I told you we should have done it!”

“Why did you do it then?”

“I told him!”

“Obviously you didn’t!”

“He was okay with it!”

“You wanted to help!”

“It was your stupid plan!”

“But I told him!”, shouted Fred

And as everyone kept shouting at each other Percy said softly:

“No, you didn’t told me.”

That simple sentence was able to stop the shouting match and everyone glared at Fred.

“What? No, I promise I told him. I asked him three weeks ago if he could work all the time at the shop and he said that looking by our ledger, he very well should because otherwise we would be arrest for tax evasion and fraud!”.

And Percy remembered that moment with vividy clarity. Fred had looked at his work on their ledger and jokingly said he should work with them all the time. And he had looked back at that atrocious ledger and replied in jest that he really should because he didn’t want to see his little brothers be sent in prison just because they could not understand how to do properly taxes and how accounting worked. But it had all been a joke, a stupid and simple joke. Or was it?

“He was saying that it would be a good idea! I only asked Dad and Ron to help because I don’t understand how administrative paperwork works!”

It was just a stupid joke. Like the twins always used to make. It was a stupid joke, a simple jest. Because it was easy to tease Fred about that. It was all in good sport, a comeback for everytime Fred had called him a stuck-up for liking paperwork and sticking to the rules.

“I thought he wanted to work with us! That I had convinced him that he could do work he liked but not under the supervision of that asshole he had for boss!”

It was not real. It was just a stupid elaborate prank of the twins. One of those they always did growing up. One of those where they would not care about the consequences for others. But, it  wasn’t a prank was it? For once, it had been the truth, or so it seemed.

“But… I thought you were joking”, whispered Percy.

And then it was his turn to be the center of attention. Everyone was looking at him, but not in anger as they had done for Fred, but in pity. A pity he despised more than anything. Because he didn’t want to be pitied.

“I wasn’t joking. I swear Perce, I wasn’t. I really wanted you to come work with us. I would not joke about that. I promise.”

“But how could I be sure?”, he asked, shame and residual anger coating his words.

And the look of pure dejection in Fred’s eyes was enough to make him backtrack:

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“No. You’re right. I’ve never really gave you reason to believe in me. I’m the one that should be sorry. I… I’ve been a shitty brother right? I… Sorry.”

And to his absolute horror, he saw, maybe for the first time in forever, tears gathering in Fred’s eyes. And then Fred stood up and whispered softly, like his voice could broke if he spoke even louder:

“I’m sorry. I… I need some time.”

And then he fled the room towards the garden, soon followed by George, and the twins left in their wake a frozen family. Frozen with stupor and shoked to the core by having seen tears in Fred’s eyes. Percy in the middle of the maelstrom of emotions that overpowered him, in the middle of the mess of feelings of anger and fear and sadness, was also strucked by Fred’s quick retreat. But Percy, in the middle of the room was most surprised by the genuine remorse in his brother voice and by the tears of shame that shone into his eyes. Because, since the beginning of all this mess that Hermione created, Fred was the first one to say he was sorry for the way he treated him.

Notes:

Hello my loves,

So, my mental health as gone to total shit the past week so writing this work might take more time than I though. I hope I can count on your understanding.

Anyway, what a better way to continue this work with a pinch of understanding and a dab of angst?

I hope you liked this chapter, leave a kudo or comment if you want, it will be greatly appreciated.

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 52

Summary:

George's POV

Notes:

TW : Slight mention of disfunctionnal families

He found Fred sitting on a low branch of the tree in the garden. They used to sit here all the time when they were younger, imagining going on adventures and then wishing they could do magic outside of school. This place was always their spot. The one where they had their best prank ideas. The one they always run to when Mom had punished them

His back was hunched and his eyes were red, as he tried desperately to stop the tears. George approached his twin and climb up the tree to sit next to him. He put an arm around his shoulders and just sat in silence, holding him.

The thing with being twins is that, you’ve spend all your life with your siblings, and you know, almost intimately when to speak and when to wait. And right know, George knew he had to wait. Because Fred never liked being talked too when he was upset. He just wanted to be left alone, except for George. Until his sadness morphed back into anger, and then, all he would want to do was curse and scream. And after his anger would have subsided, he would talk. Explain his pain and his sadness.

And as usual, a few minutes later Fred extricated himself from George's embrace and leapt down the tree, kicking the stones that littered the bare soil of the garden, shouting obsenities, many of them directed at himself, and simply raging at everything that went right and wrong in his life at that very moment.

And then the fight left his body, as quickly as it had appeared and Fred let himself fall on the bench next to the house and put his head in his hands. George gingerly approached his twins and sat slowly next to him. He didn’t speak, didn’t make a single sound and just waited. He didn’t have to wait long before Fred spoke.

“I’m a bad brother am I?”, asked Fred, brokenly

“No. No you’re not.”, replied soflty George

“I made him suffer. I made him not trust myself.”, replied Fred “I made him believe that everything I say to him is a stupid joke!”

“It’s alright Freddie…”

“No it’s not! I never gave him a fucking reason to believe in me! And now, I made him loose his job just because I never gave him a reason to trust me!”, shouted Fred.

“You did nothing wrong…”, replied softly George but he didn’t really believed himself.

“Yes I did! We both did! We just pranked him all our life! We never told him we loved him! Even now, when he needs us! All we did was make ourselves unreliable! All we did all our life was to make him distrust us!”, shouted Fred, with renewed tears in his eyes.

“No you didn’t.”, replied a soft voice behind them, “You acted like children when we were both children and I resented you for doing so.”

Both Fred and George turned sharply towards the voice. The voice they knew all too well. A voice thay hadn’t heard enough since the end of the war. The voice of Percy. Percy who was standing there, looking at them with tenderness, and affection they weren’t used to see.

Percy approached them slowly and crouched before them, with and audible protest from his knees and back.

“You pranked me when we were kids, and I just choose to see only the anger and pain. Yes, sometimes, you went too far. But it should have been enough to make me distrust you. I am as much as fault as you, in this situation”, said Percy softly.

George looked at Percy with confusion and he could feel his twin tense beside him.

“But we did, Percy. That’s the thing.”, croacked Fred, “We pranked you more than the others. We never let you believed in us. So it’s our fault. It’s our fault if you don’t trust us. Even when we try to do the right thing. Because we are shitty brothers.”

Percy he looked at them indulgently and replied:

“No you’re not.”

“Yes we are”, countered Fred, “We are. Because if we were good brothers, you would trust us. And you don’t.”

Percy smiled sadly and George felt a pang in his chest. Because he was starting to think like Fred. Since the day they found out about what Percy did in the War, they realized how much they had hurt their older brother in the past. And how they were partially responsible for his pain. The past month had been a way to atone for their sins but it seemed it would never be enough.

“You know”, started Percy slowly, “I was two, well, almost two, when you where born. More precisely, I was one and a half years old. So when Mom told me I was going to be a big brother, I was so happy. I don’t really remember it but Mom always said that I looked like Christmas had come early. That I had the biggest smile I ever had.”, he chuckled softly, and George could kill to hear that sound again.

“I could be like Bill and Charlie. I would have a little brother or sister. And then, there was two of you and I felt like the best big brother ever because I had two little siblings at once.”, he added softly, a wonderous smile on his lips.

“So, I might have been a little overbearing, maybe I was too much, always watching you. But it was just because I had the feeling that you were my responsibility. And I wanted to be sure you were always fine. I wanted to be sure that you were happy and safe.”, he continued.

His trembling hands came resting on Fred’s and George’s knees, and the hand was soft and warm.

“I never wanted to be too much.”, he confessed, suddenly “I just wanted to love you. And at the beginning, we were always together. Sometimes, when It was nap time, I would come to your room, because I was scared for you. I just wanted to protect you and love you.”, he admitted.

“But then you started to grow up, and you didn’t want to spend time with me anymore. You wanted to be only together, without me. And I was just sad, so I might have been a arse, because of that. And I’m sorry.”, he said, voice suddenly filled with remorse.

“It was maybe for that reason that I was the main victim of your pranks. And I was too young to understand, but when it happened, I was always angry. I thought that Mom and Dad loved you more because they never punished you. So I started to resent you. And I was sad because I wanted to be able to protect you again.”, he admitted, “It was not your fault that I started to distrust you. Well, not entierely. Because it was my fault too. I wanted to be your big brother again but I just did it wrong. I started to watch you to stop you from doing pranks because I was angry.”, he concluded.

And somehow, something George hadn’t realized was broken inside him suddenly mend itself up. Suddenly, the shame he had felt for almost two months now was slowly fading. Slowly, but oh so surely, he felt like he was absolved. His atonement had paid, and he was free from the weight of the sins that tarnished him.

“I love you. I might have resented you, and then disliked you for all your pranks, but I never stopped loving you.”, Percy confessed finally.

And then he waved his wand and murmured a quick "Accio photo album". And from the third-floor window floated a small black leather-covered book which he caught in his trembling hands. Inside, seven small magical photos were arranged. He opened the little book to the fifth page and showed the photo to the twins.

On the small picture, the twins took their first steps towards Percy. Percy who was waiting, arms wide apart, ready to catch them if they fell, a beaming smile on his lips, and an awe look in his eyes, like he was witnessing a miracle.

“I kept my favorites pictures with everyone in the family in it. And I kept this photo album with me since I left the house after… After the fight.”

He blinked quickly, chasing away the sadness that wormed its way in his eyes.

“This one, is my favorite with you both. I watched this pictures countless times since the fight. But I think, that, between all of them, this one is my favorite.”, he admitted. “Because, when you walked for the first time, you both walked towards me. And everytime I watch this picture, I’m reminded of the fact that I love you. And that you were the firsts to make me a big brother.”

George felt tears burn his eyes, threatening to fall, in an absolution of his past actions. He was not a believer, but he could fall to his knees and worship his brother for the times to come until eternity when he was here, in front of him, cleansing him of his sins and giving him the unconditional love of a God.

“We where children.”, said Percy, wiping away, with trembling hands the tears on Fred’s face, “And we might have to work to restore our relationship. But I love you. You’re my little brothers and I love you more than anything.”, concluded Percy.

And then, the tears felt and Fred stumbled into Percy arms, soon followed by George. And both held their brother for dear life, thanking him silently for his forgiveness and his absolution. Both of them hold the one that used to be part of the trio they had forgotten, and they prayed to a God they didn’t believe into that they could always have Percy with them. Their big brother, the third part of their soul. The one they had lost and found again.

Notes:

Hello my darlings,

Are you crying yet? Maybe the next few chapters are going to make you cry if not.

Also, for those of you who want to see Oliver: he should appear in chapter 53 or 54. At the latest in chapter 55.

For now, I will try to write the next few chapter quicker than the last few chapters, so you can cry more.

As always, kudos are very much appreciated and comments give me fuel to write even more quickly.

With love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 53

Summary:

Percy's POV

Notes:

TW: Mention of panic attacks
Mention of death

The next few days were uneventful, but Percy still felt off-balance all the time. He caught himself multiple times a day hitching to go back to the Ministry, the place he worked for almost nine years, right after leaving Hogwarts with his twelve N.E.W.T.s. It was not because he really wanted to work there, since he never really loved what he did there, but it was almost a second nature for him now. Wake up at seven, wash up, eat breakfast, prepare a lunch box, grab your wand and coat and take the Floo to the Ministry, go back home at five thirty, make tea, prepare dinner, go to sleep and repeat, every day except the week-ends for years.

So working for the twins, even if it was easy and nice, felt slightly wrong. But even if he wasn’t used to it, he was still glad to work for the twins. After their tearful apology, from both the twins, Percy had agreed to work with them from now on. He had even stated that the least he could do was to make sure the twins didn’t end up in prison for tax fraud. That had the merit to make laugh both of the twins, which, in itself, had been a impressive feat. And he was glad to have choose to work for the twins.

Maybe the only noteable thing the past few days had been being hugged by Ron for a solid ten minutes before he let go and gave him an heartbreaking look before collapsng on the couch and snuggling up to his partners. But after all, they were all bound to act like that from time to time now: no one was really spared from pain since they had discovered the truth about him. Not even himself. His parents had often, and randomly given him a hug. his dad had even, one time took the time to collect all the crosword from the past Sundays' editions of The Prophet and sat down next to him at the dinner table and wordlessly gave him a pen as he had set down the newspapers excerpts. A silence offering of love of sorts with his father. If his father and he shed a few tears that days, no one had to know.

But now, all those small moments of heartbreak and happiness paled in comparaison to what was unraveling in front of him. Mainly how his world was being thrown upside down by a pair of chocolate brown eyes he knew very well.

When Percy had started working with the twins almost two month ago now, he had gathered some simple facts. George loved spending time in the workshop, Fred loved spending time with the customers and Lee had always some kind of Hogwarts reunion going on.

Those reunion included, but not exhaustively, a Gryffindor’s quidditch team reunion, a bookclub reunion, a DADA club reunion, a potions tutoring club, a football club reunion, and strangely enough a knitting club reunion. During those events, he was not unusual for people to come to the shop and wait for Lee’s shift to end. This had brought to the shop Angelina Johnson, for a Quiddich reunion, Luna Lovegood for a kitting club reunion, Neville Longbottom for a DADA club reunion, Cho Chang and Lavender Brown for a bookclub reunion, Blaise Zabini for a football reunion, and Padma and Parvati Patil for a potions tutoring club reunion.

Often, these people were asked to wait in Percy's office, so as not to disturb the closing of the shop, which more than once included an explosion of some kind. And right now, it was apparent that Lee had a meeting with Oliver Wood and that Oliver Wood was waiting for his friend in Percy’s office. Because his chocolate brown eyes were starring a hole in his face.

But Percy, at twenty seven years old, almost twenty eight, had not seen Oliver since their last year at Hogwarts, when he was merely seventeen years old, almost eighteen years old. And even after ten years, Percy wasn’t completely ready to meet again one of the boy he had loved during his time at Hogwarts. The boy who had snatched his heart when they were still kids and ran with it.

“Hello Percy. Fancy seeing you here.”, said Oliver cheerily. But Percy could hear how fake it was. How his eyes depicted mostly confusion.

He found himself unable to respond, only starring at the man waiting awkwardly in his office.

“Didn’t know you worked for the twins. Didn’t you worked for the Ministry?”, he asked next, cutting through the akward silence that Percy had let install in the room.

“I resigned”, replied softly Percy, still bewildered to see Oliver in front of him after all these years.

“Oh, alright. That’s good I guess.” replied awkwardly Oliver, “And what are you up too these days?”

“Uh. Working?”, he replied soflty.

Oliver barked out a laugh and replied:

“Yeah, that’s very you Percy. Always working. Never knew when to catch a break.”

He chuckled. And the sound made Percy feel a lot of different things. But it mostly made him smile softly.

“So working for the twins. It’s nice I guess.”, continued Oliver, “And probably better than the Ministry yeah?”.

Percy nodded dumbly, still completely out of it. He was not really socially adept, but this was worse than usual. Oliver didn’t seemed phased by it and keep talking about idle things. His job, the twins, Lee, and mainly Quidditch things that Percy didn’t understand the slightest. And despite his own akwardness, the conversation was quite pleasant. Up until the point were it wasn’t anymore.

“Say, you’ve kept in touch with some of our classmates from Hogwarts?”, asked Oliver.

“No, can’t say I have”, replied softly Percy.

“Oh. I see. Weel I was asking because Atticus, you know, the one from Hufflepuff ?”

“Atticus Dickson?”, asked Percy

“Yeah, that’s the one. Well, he wanted to make a reunion. Like for the ten years since we left Hogwarts. The old students and everything, you know.”

“The alumni?”

“Yeah that. Well, McGonagall has agreed. Amazing right? Anyway, he was looking thought the list of students and he wanted to send invitations to everyone. You should get an invitation soon, by the way. But he was looking at the address of the Muggleborns, but the records are a bit out of date, since the War and everything. And he couldn’t find the address of Penelope Clearwater. You know the one you were always spending time with.”

Percy felt his heart come to an abrupt stop and then start again at a wild pace. His shaky hands were shaking even more. And nausea crept into his stomach, threatening to spill over and making him throw up, right onto the ledger he worked painstakingly to make him readable again, if it had ever been readable in the first place.

“And since you know her”, continued Oliver, seemingly oblivious to Percy inner turmoil, “could you sent Atticus her address? If you have it of course.”

His breath was short, and his vision was tunnelling. He felt like he was on the verge of fainting. Was his ears ringing or the sound of another experiment of George?

“Percy? What’s happening mate, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Oliver voice was piercing through the fog of his brain and he murmured.

“She’s dead.”

“What? What did you say? Couldn’t hear you mate.”

“She’s dead.”, replied Percy, a little bit louder, but to his ears, it seemed like he had just screamed the words.

“What? Oh god, Penelope is dead?”, asked Oliver.

Percy nodded slowly, his hands shaking like he had just fell into a frozen lake.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know I…”

But Percy didn’t let him finish. And with a mubbled excuse he fled the room and ran to the twins flat, ignoring the shoked shouts of his brothers’, and landed on the couch before bursting into tears. After all this time, ten years later, the mere mention of her death was enough to make him break down completely.

Notes:

I'm not dead!

Sorry for the delay my loves! I've started a new job, moved across the country and in all that, I couldn't find the time to write, I'm sorry!

So here is a new chapter. The updates from now on will be a lot slower because of the new hours of my job, but I'll try to update at least once a month!

Hope you liked it. And for those of you who wanted to see Oliver: I deliver.

Please keep commenting, just to remind me to keep updating because I might forget when I come home from work.

Until next time!

With all my love,

PrincessAngst

Chapter 54

Summary:

Fred's POV (again I know)

Notes:

TW : Mentions of panic attacks
Mentions of death

Fred was running. He quite like running, it was a nice way to get over pent up energy. It was, however, less nice when he was running towards his brother that had exited his office with tears streaming down his face, leaving behind an apologetic Oliver Wood and a distressed pair of twins.

Whatever happened in this office in the less than five minutes Oliver Wood had been in it, he promised himself that he would make Oliver pay if he was responsible for his brother breakdown, ex-Quidditch captain be damned.

And so he ran up the stairs towards their flat, where Percy had fled mere moments before, and entered the living room with the furry of a Hippogriff. The sight that greeted him, however, made him lose almost all his composure. His older brother was curled up on the couch, shaking franctically, tears making a damp patch on the light grey fabric and he was whimpering. Like a small scared animal, terrified of the world that was too dangerous for him.

Fred approached tentatively :

“Perce?”

His brother didn’t hear him, too lost in his panic to notice him. He kept crying, almost silently, chocking on his sobs like heartbreaking whimpers. George sat down on their couch next to him. That couch that had been the first piece of furniture they bought after their first month of managing the shop. It had felt like an extraordinary achievement at the time. Now, looking back at it, it was the moment they started to resent Percy to another level. Percy, who sided with their Mom on abandoning their studies at Hogwarts. And it had hurt more, the reproaches and barely conciled disappointment in Percy’s eyes. Hurt more than the shouts of their mother. It had been the spark that fuelled the slow distrust that poisoned their relationship and almost cost them a brother.

He put a hand on his brother back, who flinched at the touch, and Fred hated that Percy could be scared of him, hated that Percy could fear his touxh and cower from it. But Percy could not really be afraid of him he though to himself, as he turned slowly, towards him. His eyes were red and he looked more hopeless than before. He looked almost as hopeless and gaunted than a few months back, when they had just learn the truth about him.

“Fred?”, whispered Percy with an hoarse voice.

“Hey Perce. You good?”, he asked, before mentally slapping himself. Of course he wasn’t good. If he was good he wouldn’t cry his eyes out on their old couch, shaking like a leaf and looking like the most miserable thing Fred had seen in his life. If he was good, he would be working in his office, chastising them for having made another mistake that could very well lead them to bankruptcy.

But Percy, soft heard and kind soul just looked at him with his too big eyes, that no longer looked gaunt, and whispered softly:

“Oliver asked me about Penny.”, and it was answer enough.

It was enough for Fred to understand his sudden breakdown. It had be to many times since they all learn the truth that Percy broke down about it. And for good reason. And so he felt anger rising in his chest. How could Oliver have asked such a question when the mere mention of his late friend was enough to send Percy down a spiral  of self-hatred and panic? How could he hurt him so much? How could he?

But as always, Percy knew him better that anyone else, save for Fred. And so he added:

“He didn’t mean harm Fred. We’ve lost touch since Hogwarts and the War. So it was natural he asked.”

Fred nodded meekly, but his heart wasn't in it. He could not forgive, even tho he wasn’t the one hurt by it. Nor that he couldn’t understand what Percy meant. Because, as always, Percy was right. It just didn’t felt right, to accept the fact that it had been a mistake. A simple an innocent question, asked by a former friend. Or boyfriend, since thay had dated for a few months when they were kids, still at Hogwarts, shielded from the horrors of the war.

“I mean.” Continued Percy, with a woobly voice and haunted eyes “When we dated, I spend almost as much time with her than with him. Maybe more. So it's not too surprising that he would ask about her. I just didn't want to think about her death all over again.”, he whispered softly.

And Fred’s heart broke again, for the umpteenth time since all this happened. Of course he would not want to think about his bestfriend death. Of course he would not want to think about seeing her die slowly in front of his eyes; of course he woudn’t want to remember the tortured that cost him his hands and almost his heart. Of course he wouldn’t want that. No one would. But how come did he didn’t hate Oliver for that then? Because Fred surely would. And he did hated him. Right now, the only thing that prevented him from breaking his ex-Quidditch captain nose, was the fact that Percy still had tears streaming down his face, and that he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him, just for one second.

“It’s okay Fred. It’s fine”, added Percy, after a beat, tears shining in his eyes, and wet cheeks.

But it was not fine. Not really. And he knew that, as well as Percy. But Percy was always too reluctant to hate anyone. Before the war, he would have ranted on how unfair and horrible Oliver had been. But now, he was willing to excuse any mistake, never matter how harmful it might have been, just to avoid a conflict. And Fred knew he, and their whole family, had played a part in it. Because of the Fight they could not really name anymore, for it could bring shame and anger, regret and sorrow, pain and self-hatred to everybody. That Fight had broken Percy. Maybe not entirely, but the relust had been the same: the Fight caused Percy to distanced himself, and then refused to return, too hurt in his pride, and too afraid of hurting them, and in the end, it cost him his friend. And on their side, too proud and ashamed of what they fought he had become, they abandoned him, almost losing him forever in the process.

So if Percy wasn’t willing to hate anyone, for fear of another Fight happening, Fred didn't have as many scruples as his brother. If he needed to hate someone for so much as looking badly at his brother, he would. And so he did.

“It’s not okay Perce. And know it. He shouldn’t have asked about her. No matter that he didn’t know. He should had least say sorry. And I repeat myself but he shouldn’t have. ”

He was angry, but his anger would not show itself with screams and shouts. It would show itself with a carefully planned revenge. Maybe a hex or two. For sure, a bow of tainted chocolate frogs, specially made to throw up some snails of slimy puke.

But for now on, he would only rant. Drag Oliver through the mud, as he clearly deserved it.

“He had no right to talk about her. He should not have asked. And he had no right to make you panic, or… or relive all that. It wasn’t fair of him. He’s an ass for that. And you don’t have to defend him. Really, he’s the one who messed up. Really bad. And he owe you and apology, not you. You don’t have to take is side or whatever. She died. He should have been more careful. I mean, who ask someone about their dead best friend. He…”

“Fred. Please”, begged suddenly Percy, with a broken voice.

And that plea alone, was able to stop Fred mid rand, as if the word had just froze into the air.

And Fred looked at Percy. Really looked at him. And he saw he despair in his eyes, the pain written all over his face. And he saw once again the tears and the shaky hand. The shallow breath and the trembling shoulders. He saw it all over again. The pain, the heartbreak and the despair.

“Stop… stop talking about… about her. Please. I… I can’t”.

And suddenly it was horror that washed all over him? Horror to realise that, even if it was Oliver that talked about her, he was the one that rub salt into the wound. He was the one that made him think of her over and over again. And Fred wished that it had not been him that climbed those stairs, but George, the more calm and reserved twin. The one that knew how to use words for healing and not hurting.

The one that would not have made Percy cry all over again, think about his dead friend. He watchad as Percy, who had never stopped crying since he exited the office, broke down in another fit of sobs. Big, horrible sobs that shook his whole lithe frame. Sobs of heartbreak.

Fred hated himself for making Percy cry again. But he would be damned if he hurt Percy again. So he did the only thing he was good at for helping people: shutting up. And so, almost wordesly he gathered Percy in his arms, letting him cry. Not shushing him like his mother or eldest brother would. Not talking to him like George and Charlie probably would. Not distracting him like Ron of Ginny. He would just hold him. Like his father could do. And so he held him. Held him until the tears ran dry, as he should have done from the beginning, if his mouth didn’t work before he could think.

And when Percy felt asleep from exhausting after crying during what felt like hours, for the only fault of Oliver and Fred, Fred gather him in his arms and brought him into his bed. He was as much has fault as Oliver, but he would make sure to at least atone for that. And that was starting by making sure Percy was comfortable.

And that’s exactly what he did, tucking him under the soft blanket, and flufflying the pillow, with guilt guiding his every moves.

Notes:

I'm baaack! Did you miss me? I sure missed you, my darlings.

My new job has been hecctic, and I hadn't had a tiny bit of motivation those past few months. But I wanted to write again: I just didn't have enough energy for it.

But this chapter is finally done (after like two months??)

Initially, I wanted to have this chapter from the POV of George but it wasn't fitting with the pacing of the story. And I have another in a few chapter (normally Chapter 56) whou should have been Fred's, but again, it wasn't working with what I wanted to tell, so I changed the POV's and voilà, much better. To be honest the next three are completely planned but not written, just so you know and I don't jknow when I will be able to write them. I make no promises but I'll try to work on them as soon as possible!

Anyway: did you like this chapter? Please let me know!

And as always, kudos are amazing, comments are life and holy shit, were are almost at 800 kudos? That's incredible, thank my loves!

With all my love,

PrincessAngst

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Out of the shadows