Percy Weasley

Percy stood at the edge of the cliff, the pebbled ground below engulfed by the foam of the sea that took over the shore little by little. There was no telling where the blue skies ended and the seas depths began, a calmness as if it were a slumbering giant. The weight of everything pressed down on him, pulling down on his shoulders and sat on his chest simultaneously. He needed a place to go, somewhere that wouldn’t force more hurt on an already fragile mind. He longed for the burrow, for a sense of familiarity as he fled the Ministry but he couldn’t do it, couldn’t face his mother. Percy had already seen the look from his father, the sheer disappointment and abhorrence in what Percy had done - allowed himself to become. He didn’t want to see it from his mother as well, couldn’t handle it.

As the alcohol wore off, panic took its place. It lodged deep within his mind, talons locked unrelentingly, eager to pull him down further. This had to be the bottom, the worst anything could get. Everything he feared was manifesting, one singular moment compounded into the disaster of his life with no one to blame but himself. Publically fired from the Ministry, hearing Kingsley’s damning words ringing in his ears still. The shock on his fathers face at the failure he created. It was the way Arthur looked at him but somehow past him, through his pain as if he weren’t his son that stuck with Percy. He should have hit the bottom, felt there was nowhere else to go but he kept tumbling, head under water.

Percy retreated like a coward, ran away from the destruction he had caused and sought refuge along the white clifftops of Shell Cottage, a place he thought no one would ever look for him. They had gone as children, visiting their aunt and it was one of the few fond memories Percy had growing up. The peace of the lapping waters, the way storms would roll in dangerously from beyond what the eye could see. He had forgotten that Bill and Fleur took it over, brought the place back to life after so many years of being vacant until he saw the blond witch down on the shore staring up at him.

The crack hit the air like thunder and Percy remained completely still, eyes trained ahead as the steps followed. His mind buzzed as he counted them, a swarm of bees racing in the urge to run once more as it became clear who approached him. He knew it was his mother, didn’t need to hear her speak or look back for confirmation. It was only a matter of time before his father said something to her, recounted the horrors of the day, the horrendous things Percy had done.

“Fleur owled saying you were here. She was . . .” Molly’s voice trailed off as she came to a stop beside Percy, intense gaze settled on her son. “I’m not the best at French but I’m fairly certain you’re worrying her as you’ve been standing here for hours.”

Hours. The lapse of time went unnoticed to Percy, another reminder of how drunk he had been earlier - still was. A noise left him at the lunacy of it all. Fleur, someone he hardly knew could see there was something amiss but no one else could? It hurt, left micro-tears across his heart that even in his hour of need, when he made it so painfully obvious he was still overlooked.

“Percy, what are you doing?”

His gaze remained out at sea, waiting for some symbolic wave that mimicked how he felt to come crashing in and swallow the beach. He wanted the clouds to churn and twist as the storm that raged within him manifested in them too, streaks of lightening, sharp rain, deafening thunder that couldn’t be ignored. It all remained peaceful, nothing that mirrored his own emotions as the sun-kissed sky sent diamonds across the tranquil waters below.

“Have you spoken to dad?”

“Of course I’ve spoken with your father. He came home looking for you, I’ve never seen him so worked up. What would possess you to do such a thing? Everything you worked for, all that you sacrificed just to have that position and you throw it away in a moment of . . . I don’t even know what! I never expected something like this from any of you, but especially not you.”

Percy let the words hit him, each one a punch that knocked him down further until he was incapable of anything. It left him broken inside and out, the reminder of what he had to be, what had always been expected of him. He was so far from who he was, from who he wanted to be. He was far from being free of a past that was haunting him, of everything he had destroyed, relationships with his family still left in pieces as a result now for nothing. His future was slipping from him, beyond his reach as darkness skimmed at his mind.

Softness crept into the sternness she was trying to maintain, eyes crinkled as she looked at Percy. He wasn’t sure if she could see it, could finally see that there was something missing inside of him but it was too late. He tried before to have someone notice, just that morning when he stopped by the Burrow before work, looking for help. He went unnoticed, lost once more in the shuffle of faces. "What has been going on with your lately?"

“You don’t want to have this discussion, mum. Not right now, trust me.”

Her hands went straight to her hips, taking the pose Percy had seen her give to his siblings whenever they were in trouble but never him. He always made sure he was well behaved, never set a toe out of line so they had one less child to worry about. He maintained perfection for them until it made him invisible. “And why the hell not?”

His face turned slowly up to her. She didn’t sway, nothing blurred as the effects of the drink faded. “Because I am still a little drunk and there is no filter between my mouth and mind.”

There was a snort of derision from her, a distasteful noise that set Percy’s mind on edge. “Oh I think I do. Do you have any idea what you’ve done, the mess your father is cleaning up after you?”

His eyes closed slowly, allowed the weight of the blame to drag him into unknown depths, waited for his body to hit the bottom, for his life to finally stop and give him a chance to look up, find a means to fight. “Right, it’s all about dad. All about the mess I made that he will have to deal with. Never mind why I’m . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, to admit to anguish that was inside his mind. Percy swallowed hard as he waited for the pull of tears, for them to well in his eyes but there was nothing. He had nothing.

“You’re what?” It was a gentle prod, a poor attempt to get her least open child to do just that, be open and honest. Molly’s hand gripped his forearm as she moved carefully in front of him, inches away from the drop of the cliff. Her eyes were unwavering as she looked up at him, truly looked. “You’re not okay.”

There was a subtle fear in her eyes, a realization that the person before her was no longer her son. Percy’s gaze hardened in response, finally moving away from the open sea and at his mother. She finally saw it, could finally see him and it did nothing to relinquish the pain. If anything, it made it worse.

“Really?” Percy threw as much sarcasm as he could behind the word. “And what gave you that brilliant inclination? Was it the fact I’ve been drinking myself to death for months? Or is it the fact I am a shell of myself?” His mind stumbled, a momentary jump in thoughts. “Is inclination the right word, I don’t think it is.”

“Oh, Percy.”

“Don’t” His voice broke, a feeble attempt to get out of his mothers grasp. “Don’t ‘oh, Percy’ me as if you give two sods!" Percy’s head began to throb, his mouth unnaturally dry as he backed away. “Is this what it takes? Being fired from the Ministry because I couldn’t beat a blasted boggart?”

“Sweetie, there wasn’t a boggart.”

Percy scoffed obnoxiously, tired of being told what was and wasn’t in his mind. He needed to believe in the boggart, didn’t want to face up to the fact that his mind created something so monstrous. So cruel. “You’re missing the point, mum! I had to f*** up this badly for you and dad to see I need you, to realize that I’m not okay and haven’t been for a long time! I blew up my bloody office, Kingsley fired me in front of dad. I hurt Zosh, I . . . I . . .”

His words trailed off as he recounted what had happened earlier, a dawning on his face of what he had done. Percy sunk to the hard ground, the faint memory of earlier coming back to him, the urgency in which Zoshia rushed out of the room, the ground stained with her blood. Molly was there instantly, her hand gently placed over his shoulders as Percy looked at her wide eyed, pleading for help. Panic swept through him like the waves devouring the shelled shore below, a tide that pulled Percy deeper away from reality and into a pit, trapped with his mistakes.

“Mum . . .”

The smile on her face was soft, the same one he saw on her the day of Fred’s funeral. It was strength cracked, spider cracks webbing out as she maintained a brave face. In one swooping embrace she forced the hold on him, a hug he would otherwise squirm out from now the only thing that grounded him. “It’ll be all right, you’ll be all right.”