Alone
By, Tigerlily
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the nonexistent plot
Summary: I have just finished reading The Order of the Phoenix. I was upset about how awfully Percy was portrayed. Thus as all obsessive fans do I imagined a reason for that atrocious behavior.
Percy Weasley opened the door to his flat, keeping it open so that his companion could enter as well. He carefully set down his briefcase on the table. His movements were smooth and effortless. He had been doing this for many months now. Carefully his hands moved to the plain grey tie knotted around his neck. With deft movements he removed the tie and unbuttoned only the top button of his dress shirt.
He turned to his companion. "The papers will be ready for you by Monday. If they are not you may tell the boss I am dead." Confirmation receives his nameless companion exited the room without a backwards glance.
Percy waited until he heard the door click. Then he locked the door with a flick of his wand. It was only after all of this was completed that he allowed himself to succumb to his weakness. Bonelessly he collapsed into the heaven that was the sofa.
Four hours later he awoke with a start to find a crick in his neck and a growling stomach.
It was midnight and Percy's body ached for sleep, but his stomach was not going to be ignored. Eventually Percy mustered the strength to haul himself off the sofa. He walked to the small kitchen area and produced a glass of milk and a small frying pan. After drinking a glass of milk and eating only two of the four eggs he had cooked, Percy stumbled toward his bedroom. He clumsily attempted to undress, then decided it wasn't worth the hassle and collapsed into the bed.
The next day came and Percy started the mechanical motions of life all over again. So the days passed. They blurred into one another with little marked difference. That is until the day he realized it was snowing. That took little to adjust to, just a heavier cloak. It was the package that arrived not long after the first snow that threatened his hard earned balance.
It was from his mother. A plain unmarked package wrapped in brown paper with a piece of string tied into a bow. Percy knew without opening it that it was the annual Weasley sweater.
He drew the package to his chest and cried. He hadn't cried when he had had to fake stupidity with Crouch. He hadn't cried when he had left his family. He hadn't even cried when he warned his brother Ron to stay away from Harry Potter, perhaps the only person who could feasibly protect him. It wasn't until he had this package, a sign of his mother's love for him, that he cried.
She hadn't forgotten him.
It was a nameless fear that consumed Percy now, the fear of being not hated, but forgotten. They had not forgotten yet, but soon, so soon. Soon he would be a taboo topic. He would become the black sheep of the family.
They thought he was in league with Voldemort, or at least his supporters.
They couldn't have been more wrong.
**** flash back ****
"Percy"
Percy looked up from his Transfiguration homework with a start. Oliver Wood was standing next to him with what appeared to be a letter in his hands.
The letter couldn't possibly be for him though. The only person who wrote to him was his mother and she normally used Errol or the schools owls for her messages.
"It's for you." Oliver said while holding out the letter to Percy.
Percy attempted to keep the surprise out of his eyes and failed utterly.
"It came just now. The owl that sent it didn't stick around. I assume that means the letter doesn't need a reply." Oliver stated with a wry grin.
Percy didn't bother to answer. He opened the envelope and took out the letter with cautious fingers.
The Black Cloak Society wanted him to work for them.
To Whom it May Concern,
It has come to our attention that the skills of one Percival Weasley, should be on the side of light.
In the light of this matter we have written to ask you to lend your talents to the Black Cloak Society.
If such a proposition is to your liking take the coin enclosed.
There was nothing else written in the letter. Part of Percy felt sure that it was a hoax. Perhaps it was a gloriously elaborate plan on the part of Fred and George, to make a fool of him.
This was particularly feasible in light of the words "talents" and "skills". Who was he kidding? He didn't have any skills or talents!
All he had was an uncanny ability to shut people out and prattle out facts.
**** end flash back ****
It wasn't until much later that Percy realized this ability was precisely what the society wanted. They need him to spy. Who could be less assuming than Percy Weasley? He was a boring predictable prat, everyone said so.
So it was that Percy found his 18th year filled with figuring out cauldron thickness and the robe length of the wizards in Antarctica. That is in between secret missions and spying.
His reputation was ruined, not that it had been much to begin with, but now that he was working for Fudge he couldn't even go home. His job had forced him to sever connections with his family and friends. Of course he had to take into consideration the fact that he really hadn't had any friends and his family didn't seem to notice him at all.
Percy had merrily convinced himself they had never loved him and the separation meant nothing. That is until the sweater had arrived.
A single sweater in forest green with the grotesquely large P emblazoned across the front. P for Percy. P for Prefect. P for perfect.
No.
He wasn't perfect and he never had been. He had deluded himself in his childhood into thinking that he could be perfect, but he had been wrong.
So Percy carefully wrote "return to sender" in large letters across the package, obscuring his own name in the process. All was as it should be. He could not allow his family to come close to him. His position was too dangerous. Besides they wouldn't miss him anyway, he thought visciously. His parents already had six other children to dote on. The absence of one surely wouldn't be felt that keenly. As for his siblings, he had no doubt that they wouldn't mind a bit. In fact Fred and George would probably rejoice when they saw the returned sweater.
Perfect Percy was gone forever.
By, Tigerlily
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the nonexistent plot
Summary: I have just finished reading The Order of the Phoenix. I was upset about how awfully Percy was portrayed. Thus as all obsessive fans do I imagined a reason for that atrocious behavior.
Percy Weasley opened the door to his flat, keeping it open so that his companion could enter as well. He carefully set down his briefcase on the table. His movements were smooth and effortless. He had been doing this for many months now. Carefully his hands moved to the plain grey tie knotted around his neck. With deft movements he removed the tie and unbuttoned only the top button of his dress shirt.
He turned to his companion. "The papers will be ready for you by Monday. If they are not you may tell the boss I am dead." Confirmation receives his nameless companion exited the room without a backwards glance.
Percy waited until he heard the door click. Then he locked the door with a flick of his wand. It was only after all of this was completed that he allowed himself to succumb to his weakness. Bonelessly he collapsed into the heaven that was the sofa.
Four hours later he awoke with a start to find a crick in his neck and a growling stomach.
It was midnight and Percy's body ached for sleep, but his stomach was not going to be ignored. Eventually Percy mustered the strength to haul himself off the sofa. He walked to the small kitchen area and produced a glass of milk and a small frying pan. After drinking a glass of milk and eating only two of the four eggs he had cooked, Percy stumbled toward his bedroom. He clumsily attempted to undress, then decided it wasn't worth the hassle and collapsed into the bed.
The next day came and Percy started the mechanical motions of life all over again. So the days passed. They blurred into one another with little marked difference. That is until the day he realized it was snowing. That took little to adjust to, just a heavier cloak. It was the package that arrived not long after the first snow that threatened his hard earned balance.
It was from his mother. A plain unmarked package wrapped in brown paper with a piece of string tied into a bow. Percy knew without opening it that it was the annual Weasley sweater.
He drew the package to his chest and cried. He hadn't cried when he had had to fake stupidity with Crouch. He hadn't cried when he had left his family. He hadn't even cried when he warned his brother Ron to stay away from Harry Potter, perhaps the only person who could feasibly protect him. It wasn't until he had this package, a sign of his mother's love for him, that he cried.
She hadn't forgotten him.
It was a nameless fear that consumed Percy now, the fear of being not hated, but forgotten. They had not forgotten yet, but soon, so soon. Soon he would be a taboo topic. He would become the black sheep of the family.
They thought he was in league with Voldemort, or at least his supporters.
They couldn't have been more wrong.
**** flash back ****
"Percy"
Percy looked up from his Transfiguration homework with a start. Oliver Wood was standing next to him with what appeared to be a letter in his hands.
The letter couldn't possibly be for him though. The only person who wrote to him was his mother and she normally used Errol or the schools owls for her messages.
"It's for you." Oliver said while holding out the letter to Percy.
Percy attempted to keep the surprise out of his eyes and failed utterly.
"It came just now. The owl that sent it didn't stick around. I assume that means the letter doesn't need a reply." Oliver stated with a wry grin.
Percy didn't bother to answer. He opened the envelope and took out the letter with cautious fingers.
The Black Cloak Society wanted him to work for them.
To Whom it May Concern,
It has come to our attention that the skills of one Percival Weasley, should be on the side of light.
In the light of this matter we have written to ask you to lend your talents to the Black Cloak Society.
If such a proposition is to your liking take the coin enclosed.
There was nothing else written in the letter. Part of Percy felt sure that it was a hoax. Perhaps it was a gloriously elaborate plan on the part of Fred and George, to make a fool of him.
This was particularly feasible in light of the words "talents" and "skills". Who was he kidding? He didn't have any skills or talents!
All he had was an uncanny ability to shut people out and prattle out facts.
**** end flash back ****
It wasn't until much later that Percy realized this ability was precisely what the society wanted. They need him to spy. Who could be less assuming than Percy Weasley? He was a boring predictable prat, everyone said so.
So it was that Percy found his 18th year filled with figuring out cauldron thickness and the robe length of the wizards in Antarctica. That is in between secret missions and spying.
His reputation was ruined, not that it had been much to begin with, but now that he was working for Fudge he couldn't even go home. His job had forced him to sever connections with his family and friends. Of course he had to take into consideration the fact that he really hadn't had any friends and his family didn't seem to notice him at all.
Percy had merrily convinced himself they had never loved him and the separation meant nothing. That is until the sweater had arrived.
A single sweater in forest green with the grotesquely large P emblazoned across the front. P for Percy. P for Prefect. P for perfect.
No.
He wasn't perfect and he never had been. He had deluded himself in his childhood into thinking that he could be perfect, but he had been wrong.
So Percy carefully wrote "return to sender" in large letters across the package, obscuring his own name in the process. All was as it should be. He could not allow his family to come close to him. His position was too dangerous. Besides they wouldn't miss him anyway, he thought visciously. His parents already had six other children to dote on. The absence of one surely wouldn't be felt that keenly. As for his siblings, he had no doubt that they wouldn't mind a bit. In fact Fred and George would probably rejoice when they saw the returned sweater.
Perfect Percy was gone forever.