Percy Weasley (sentimentalist) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-10-01 01:10:00 |
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Autumn had come early to Ottery-St-Catchpole in a way that made Percy long for a heavy knit jumper rather than the tweed blazer he wore as he walked down the lane. Rounding the last turn, he'd finally managed to catch the Burrow in his sights and he felt his heart twist comically. He wanted to be home. He'd wanted to be home almost the exact moment he'd left two years ago. But now, two years on, he yearned for the warmth of his mother's kitchen and the safety inherent in sitting at the table and letting his hours while away. It felt youthful. It felt golden. He hadn't appreciated what he had when he had it, and now he had hoped to recapture some of it. But two years on - two years of Christmases and weddings, birthdays and hospitals - he knew that he had done irreparable harm to the hold that his home had on his mind. And while he wasn't quite sure if he deserved what he remembered devaluing then, he could at least make his own apologies and simply attempt to carry on living his life. But it was George whose voice reverberated in his head - You could come back any time. And he was so hurt. He was so full of anger. But he knew they were too. And the first step was a long one. He'd brought a sweetly tied box of pastries and a knot of dahlias in bright, harvest colours as peace offerings. But nothing had prepared him for his mother's astonished face before he ever had a chance to knock on the side door. Molly's preternatural since of timing - aided, perhaps, by her clock - gave him leave to let muscle memory take control. While she filled a vase with water and put on the kettle, he opened the box and pulled out plates. Now face-to-face, he stared at his mother. He stared at her and she stared back at him. And as the tears began to well in his eyes, it was her arms that wound round his shoulders first. She pulled him in tightly and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. "So sorry. Mum. So sorry, so selfish." This was the litany over and over again, going on for moments or minutes or hours, he didn't know, until she pulled him upright and pressed a handkerchief into his palm. "Stand up," Molly said. "Stand up and let me look at my Percival." He did as he was told and afforded her a watery smile. She was resplendent and beautiful and perfect, in that way a son would behold his most beloved mother. And when Percy spoke again, it was in a tired, broken voice. "I have so many amends to make." Molly nodded once when he said this. "And in making them, I know we're going to ... Mum, I know it isn't going to really ever be the same. But I can't -- I can't go on lying and being so scared that I'm going to lose all of you because of my stupidity and my cowardice. So thank you for opening the door." "Percy Weasley, you are my son and I will always open the door for you." It wasn't necessarily astonishment that gripped him and shone out on his face, but a deft sort of appreciation for that maternal love which conquered any seemingly insurmountable obstacle. Even one so easy as opening the door. Before he could begin - or continue - in his apologies, Molly extended her own olive branch. "I understand you have a nice flat in Diagon Alley and you even have a dog. Any friends? Special girl friends?" And here, Percy smiled. "Actually, that's something I want to talk to you about too. I don't have a girlfriend right now, though I suppose you could say I have quite a few friends who are girls. I'm seeing Oliver Wood, Mum." He paused, waiting to see how she would react. Molly's eyes stayed focused on her boy. "Oliver Wood. We've been together - and it's been mostly a secret - since school. And I love him. I want him to move in with me. He's good for me, Mum. Keeps me grounded - even when he's up in the air." Percy's version of a bad joke got a courtesy laugh. "But I don't want to be a secret anymore. I'd like to be open in my relationship with him. But it wasn't something I ever wanted you to hear second or third hand." The tea kettle, floating its way from the stove to the cozy on the table, was right in front of Percy. And like a good sun, he poured for his Mother first. When Molly spoke, it was with her hands wrapped around warm porcelain. She smiled softly -- "I didn't know. And every time -- Percy, I'm sorry I assumed it was girl --" Percy cut in. "No apologies necessary." Molly continued, then. "We're all very proud of you, you know? I am. Your Dad is too. I don't know what you're doing at the Ministry, but I'm sure it's resisting as well as you can. But I'm all the more glad you've come to us today and you've shared a bit of your heart. Now have a sip of your tea and pick me out a scone, my boy." Percy's eyes welled up again, tears warm in the corners of his eyes as he selected a scone for his mum and cast a quick warming charm on it to melt the icing just right. Then, he turned back to her. "You say resisting like you're expecting vigilantism -- I have a plan, Mum. To bring on referendum in the Wizengamot and have Thicknesse out. We just have to find the right one to put in his place. I think it ought to be Gawain Robards, but ..." She was smiling all too knowingly. Giving him a nod. "You're a Weasley and a Gryffindor. I don't care what colour your hair is, Percy. Rebellion is in your blood." She paused and a stack of jumpers appeared next to him on a bench. "Your Christmas presents, Percy. Tell Oliver he's being added to the rotation." This made Percy smile. He shrugged out of his blazer and slid into the cardigan on the top, scarlet and gold emblazoned with a P. "Oliver will be glad to know, Mum." And after she'd suggested that Oliver come with him the next time, he suddenly realized that this wasn't meant to be their last time together. This wasn't some mad last goodbye which he used to reconnect the threads he had so angrily snapped off two years ago. And sitting here, speaking quietly with his Mum, knowing the promise of what was to come, he had every belief that his brothers and his sisters could come round. Even his dad too. It would only take a little more time. And they could all be home together again. |