Percy Weasley (sentimentalist) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-01-29 10:55:00 |
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Fred realised, as he stared at Percy’s front door debating whether or not to enter, that this was the first time he’d been to Percy’s place. It wasn’t a surprising realisation, given how recently the two had returned to speaking terms — and how often they returned to barely speaking to each other, but a pit grew in his stomach at the thought of how little he knew of his brother’s life now. That was Percy’s own fault, he reminded himself to suppress his guilt. Percy was the one who had walked out. Already bristling, Fred pushed the door open and navigated to the bedroom, helped by the French Bulldogs who greeted him in lieu of Percy being able to. “I dunno what flowers mean so I just got the first lot the florist recommended,” he tossed the mixed bouquet of yellow flowers onto Percy’s bed, already feeling stupid for buying them. “You look like shit.” Fred’s presence anywhere - but particularly in Percy’s bedroom - felt incomprehensible and alien. Not that they hadn’t had those moments before (when they were both younger, when the world was a little different) but with all the love and anger between them? He was glad and surprised and shocked and sad at once. You came. Magdalena hopped up on the foot of the bed, grabbed the arrangement by the base and deposited them in Percy’s lap. He thanked her with a rub to her wrinkled forehead and gave his younger brother a loose smile. “Well, I always thought that thinking was my fighting.” “Yeah and look where that got you.” Fred folded his arms, still uncomfortably hovering just inside the doorway, ready to make a quick getaway. He took a moment to assess the visible damage, shaking his head. “What were you thinking, Percy? What happened to all your bullshit about how you’re staying out of the firing line because you’re the sensible one who doesn’t want to die?” Fred’s words always stung. And Percy, too tired to fight right out of the gate, gestured to a chair at the bedside with his chin. “You want to sit down for this, maybe?” Fred eyed the chair with suspicion, silent for a long moment before relenting and taking a seat and only then remembering to ask “How are you doing?” “I got an Exceeds in Defense,” he muttered, finding it easier to look at the flowers in his lap than his brother or the bruised hand gripping the flowers. “I know what I did wrong, but there’s certainly a difference between having the NEWT and the hands-on experience.” The scoff from Fred was sure to come, but he didn’t care. It was the truth. “It was rough. I was terrified. Haven’t been that terrified since they killed Scrimgeour and took the Ministry.” The scoff did come. Fred ignored Percy’s admittance of being terrified — who wasn’t terrified these days? Fred knew he had been even more on edge since — well, since a lot of things, but most recently the discovery that one of their friends was a Death Eater, even if he hid it beneath jokes and smiles. Instead, he focused on berating his older brother. “You haven’t taken defense in years though, Percy. NEWT scores mean nothing. Unless you also got an O in kissing ass at the ministry. You know, something you actually practice every day.” “It’s funny you never ask about why I do it or what happened that day that the Ministry fell but you are good at deriding me —“ He took a deep breath to continue his rebuttal, but winced. The dog gave a whine, pressing her head against Percy’s legs. Right. He’s never get healed like this. He steeled himself to speak again, and met his brother’s gaze with a pale and bloodless face. “Four years. You arse.” Fred softened slightly at Percy’s wince. It was worry for his brother that had brought him over here, not a desire to point out all the ways in which Fred thought he was wrong. The latter just seemed to happen whenever he talked to Percy. “Why do you do it, then?” I don’t want to talk about it. Percy frowned, pressing his thumb gently into Magdalena’s brow. “Why do we all do it? Because we think there’s something worth it at the end. If we can hold out long enough, they won’t be able to beat us all the way back. Love of country, love of culture.” He swallowed. “Love of family.” “You could get all that from joining the Order,” Fred pointed out. For the first time, Percy didn’t gainsay his brother or turn about with anger in his voice. It was the Order that came to the rescue, shielding the people at the stadium and helping to beat back at the Death Eaters. It was Bill and others who saved his fucking life. For whatever it was worth. He met Fred’s gaze with a small - if warm - smile and he nodded. Fred expected an argument. There was always an argument when it came to him and Percy, especially if it involved the Order and Percy’s lack of approval of it. The smile threw him. He frowned, tilting his head. “I thought you didn’t like the Order.” His smile waned as he considered Fred’s words -- yes, he didn’t like the Order. He didn’t like how they seemed somewhere beyond the realm of the law and order the Ministry strove to protect. But Percy could clearly see his wrongs. The Ministry’s corruption from within needed that outside, redemptive force. And the Order’s aims were not to overturn the good people in the Ministry but to purge the bad influence. (Sometimes, he imagined himself to be that bad influence.) And he knew, after the Quidditch match, he saw firsthand. He understood what the Order stood for. “I didn’t,” he said, “and I’m not sure of myself even now. But I know after this weekend I was wrong about the Order. I saw the good you did -- for others, for me.” What you may yet do for the Ministry. While Percy’s smile waned, Fred smiled for the first time since arriving at Percy’s. He’d never actively seeked Percy’s approval, they’d always been too different for that and life had been about making fun of Percy, not impressing him, but it was still somehow nice to receive. Though he quickly told himself he just liked hearing Know-it-all Percy admit that he was wrong. “That’s all we’re trying to do always,” Fred explained. “We’re trying to protect people and to stop the Death Eaters and make the world better again. Don’t know why it’s taken you so long to see that.” “ … because I didn’t want to, because I didn’t think I was heroic, because I thought the Ministry could stand, because I thought you all didn’t care about me.” He shrugged and took a shallow breath, bracing his palm against his chest. “I was wrong about all those things. Except for being heroic. Obviously not that.” Fred let out a short snort of amusement at that. “Yeah, what you did at the match wasn’t heroic at all. Fighting death eaters? Only cowards do that.” “Fred, like you said. I sucked at it. NEWT scores didn’t do bollocks. And that bloody Death Eater was such a reckless showboat, he had to be bottom tier.” “It doesn’t matter that you sucked at it, you still did it, Percy,” Fred pointed out, leaning forward in his chair now. “And yeah, you almost got yourself killed and that’s not the best outcome but I never thought you would willingly go up against a Death Eater.” “ … I do regularly, with quill and parchment,” he suggested. “It isn’t all sucking up and doing what they say. Dissent is a part of government. I helped Robards because no one would ever vote for me. But it was exhilarating, you know. Physically …” he gestured, as I’d flourishing a wand and winced. “Anyway. I see why you do what you do.” “Yeah, yeah,” Fred rolled his eyes, bored from the moment quills and parchment were mentioned. “So does that mean you want to join the Order now or just that you don’t hate everything we do?” “You, um.” He blinked. “You want me to join? Is that such a good idea?” Percy had LIABILITY written in Goldstein caps all over him. Oliver was the sure bet. “Seriously.” Fred shrugged. “I don’t get that much say in recruitment. I’m just wondering, not offering.” He’d often wanted to be part of the Order to, if nothing else, understand what was happening to his family. But after this experience, knowing he would have to go back to the Ministry and dreading the loneliness and solitude, he knew his answer had changed. He nodded. Fred was surprised, but a smile spread across his face regardless. “I can bring you up. Mum might kill me, I think she likes having one of us not constantly trying to get ourselves killed, but it’s not like you’re any safer at the Ministry anyway. And, well,” he gestured at Percy, bedridden and lucky to be alive. “If you’re gonna die, may as well do it fighting alongside family, right?” He laughed, quiet and full, considering the truth of Fred’s statement. If he was going to go, there’d be no better way than shoulder to shoulder with his family. “All spoons to mortal peril, of course.” Then, a pause. “Oliver too? He’d be good - a better recruit than me.” “As long as you don’t throw a fit about it again,” Fred teased. Percy shook his head slowly. “I'll have to buy out another florist.” “You might be able to start your own if you keep getting injured like this,” he gestured at the bunch he’d brought over himself. “But it’d be easier for yourself if you just don’t say dumb shit about the Order to start with. Especially if you actually want the rest of them to want you to join.” “Hey Fred? Remember the part where …” he shook his head again. “Godric’s balls, no. I’m not saying it. We’re being kind right now.” But he did want to make a comment about the Order continuing to do the right thing and his opinion only recently changing due to his family’s change of heart and what he saw the Order do. “Don’t worry about these lovelies --” he gestured to Fred’s arrangement. “We’ll get them in water, they’ll root out and I”ll plant them.” Fred quirked an eyebrow and bit his lip, barely refraining from pressing further to find out what Percy was going to say, always ready to start a fight with his brother, no matter how well the conversation was going. “Do whatever you want with them,” he forced himself to say instead, reminding himself that Percy could have died. “And get better soon.” “Thanks, Fred.” He nodded. “I’m glad you came. I’d like to have the lot of you over soon. A family dinner.” “Just tell me when and I’ll see if I can make it,” Fred replied, non-committal just in case he was pissed at Percy again when the invite came. He pushed the chair back and stood, the conversation feeling like it was starting to head somewhere that was too sentimental for Fred. “I’ll see you later.” He nodded to Fred. The little dog popped her head up and gave one quick yip before burrowing back at Percy’s side. “I’m going to let you see your way out,” was reasonable, he believed. “Thanks for coming by …” Brusque enough to be less emotional, but true enough to be meaningful. That’s what he was hoping for. “Thanks Fred.” “ S’fine,” Fred replied, making his way back out of Percy’s room. He hesitated for a moment at the bedroom doorway, as though he was going to say something else; tell Percy that he cared, but he didn’t. Instead he offered Percy a smile. “Should really think about getting your hair back to the right colour. No one trusts a blonde.” Then, with a quick wave he was back on his way out of Percy’s place. |