The Ophelia Effect.
Parts: 5
Rating: M+
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/ Percy Weasley.
Warnings: Character death. Crossdressing.
Summary: a small fic that I wanted to do with Draco and Percy. It's a bit dark near the end. Very angsty… and there is character death.
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Part One.
"Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind." - Ophelia
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There is something that Percy does.
Something he doesn't want anyone to know he does.
Like getting pissed drunk and making a complete arse out of himself.
So in order to alleviate the guilt that such displays make him feel. He goes around and helps those who cannot seem to help themselves.
All the while making this image of himself as not only a young, loyal and intelligent politician, but one whose private life is occupied with helping the homeless and those battling addictions…
It is all something that Percy doesn't feel compelled to correct when it comes to this image. If only for the selfish reasons that he looks so damned good as a human being.
He tends to ignore that the same people he's helping on a Sunday afternoon are the same people he was screaming at the night before to go and get a job like honest people do.
He doesn't like to even think of this.
After all he's helping these people right now and that's all that should really count…
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It's Sunday morning and he's woken up to this very bad headache.
He only has half a bottle of his Hangover Potion left so he'll still have a pretty bad ache as he goes out on his rounds again.
Grimacing as he gulps down the runny mush…
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Every week it's the same thing.
Every week he's forced to continue on with the strange looks he gets from the old homeless man who dresses in a garbage bag and goes around with these large pale eyes, that are visible even from behind all that filthy hair.
Every week he's walking down the street that smells of garbage and urination.
The grime on the buildings add to the forbidden touch of the environment.
"Hey, ya wanna good time?" The girl is dressed in a barely there pink leather skirt. Her face is made up in what looks to be gobs of make- up. Percy looks at her and at her strange repulsiveness. Shakes his head than walks away.
He doesn't listen when she calls him a cheap bastard.
He walks down towards the soup kitchen where he dishes out food for those who have none.
As he walks he can see barely out of the corner of his eye a small bundle curled up and shivering in front of a brown stoned building.
Percy isn't sure if he should help.
After all what good would it do for him if he helps this kid out?
And even if it wasn't a kid. What kind of help could he give?
Money. Unlikely since they would only spend it on drugs.
No, it's best to just leave these things alone otherwise next thing you know you're standing with them in front of a burning garbage can clutching to any sort of warmth you can get.
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Sometimes Percy feels sorry for them.
After all look at what they have to eat. And wear.
But the persons he feels most sorry for and would save if he could is the children.
After all it isn't their faults that their parents couldn't do better.
Once in a while Percy can convince himself that he can relate to the poverty that these kids must go through. But then he really looks at what they have and he has to admit that he never had to go through that, no matter what the lack of money in his family's house was.
"Yeh got any more o' tha bread?" The toothless man smells suspiciously of vodka.
But Percy just nods silently and hands over a stale roll.
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It's near dark when he finally leaves.
That bundle is still huddled to the side of that building…
Percy can somewhat see the colour of what the hair must be, due to the lamp post light.
Filthy like everyone down here's are… But undeniably blonde.
He decides that it may be against his better judgements he should go over there just to see if the person isn't sick or something.
So he goes over and reaches to shake that bundle… noting that the material feels like a potato sacs…
"…unnn…." The soft groan reaches Percy's ears as raspy and groggily.
"Hey, are you alright?" Percy can't help but get the feel that whatever is underneath is contagious and will leave a trail of filth on his body.
The bundle moves and sits up with an effort. The blonde hair all over the place and somewhat long. The face is dirty with features that are pointed…
Percy snatches his body back with a hiss.
"Malfoy." He can't help it. The hate and pride well up in him even though he knows that he should be interrogating this boy for all the wrongs that he did…
But just as he's about to go for taking the offence, he notices that the once sharp grey eyes are shifting and out of focus.
There is a line of saliva coming from the boy's mouth and traces of an old nosebleed on his face.
The boy looks mad.
For some reason Percy remembers an article that has just come out recently about the night only a couple of months ago about the night that Dumbledore was murdered. The Famous Fuckin' Boy Who Lived to Replace Percy in His Family, said that Malfoy didn't kill him and didn't look like he was going to….
Of course those at the Ministry still had their doubts…
It is a war they are fighting. Not the logic of a seventeen-year-old brain.
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Percy knows that he shouldn't have brought such an incriminating person here with him. But after seeing the boy filthy and thrown to the side like he was he couldn't very well leave him.
Besides, he'll just hand him over to the Ministry after he feeds the kid.
They can handle him.
They can decide whether or not the kid is guilty or just brainwashed.
All Percy has to do is care for him until the kid can gather his wits and be of some use to the Ministry…
But first things first…
Get rid of that God Awful Smell…
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A/N:
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