Fred Weasley. (pranking) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-10-08 09:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | fred weasley, percy weasley |
WHO: Percy and Fred Weasley.
WHEN: October 2, Morning.
WHERE: St Mungo's
WHAT: Small steps towards reconciliation?
WARNINGS: Nope
Percy Weasley was self-involved, but he wasn’t stupid. As soon as he’d heard that the Magpies were involved in the Inferius attack, he knew that the meeting he scheduled with Fred would be put right out of his mind. He spent the better part of the evening in the office, listening for any scraps of information that he could pass along to Oliver (including run now) but eventually made his way back home. In the morning, however, he packed a bag of toiletries and purchased an inordinately large bouquet of dahlias with a specific purpose in mind; these offerings brought to St. Mungo’s had more or less obscured his view as he approached the desk. But it must have been the tiny golden snitch nestled amongst the blooms that gave the plot away. “Take a left, then another left. Then take a right. Go up a flight of stairs and they’re in the corner.” A muffled sound of assent. And almost twenty minutes later, now slightly winded, Percy showed up in front of Angelina’s door with supplies. A half-asleep Fred almost walked straight into the bouquet-obscured person, shooed from Angelina’s room again to let her rest, mumbling under his breath how his company was totally relaxing. “Sorry,” he apologised to the flowers, it taking a moment for him to both notice the person behind them and then recognise him as his now-blond brother. Followed by a “Bollocks,” seconds later when he realised it was Percy. “I forgot about you,” he admitted. And then it dawned on him that, armed with flowers, Percy likely wasn’t actually here to see him. Because visiting friends at Mungo’s was something Percy was capable of, it was only their dad he didn’t come to see. “She’s resting.” There was a kind of muscle memory that kicked in with his brothers and it helped Percy now as he sat the flowers down outside of Angelina’s door before addressing Fred specifically. “Good. She should rest. Maybe you can walk these in for her later?” That done, he hovered near one of the hallway chairs and now watched Fred with the same thoughtful gaze he’d provided to George. Two years and a war between them. Godric, they were all changing too fast. But, before he got caught in the trap of his own mind, he pulled the toiletry bag from under his arm and offered it to Fred. “I brought you this. Thought you wouldn’t want to leave her.” “Oh,” Fred replied, too tired to think of anything clever to say as he took the toiletry bag. “Thanks. I’ll tell her you stopped by too. Sure she’ll appreciate it, like she did the you changing her address thing.” People talked. Percy knew this. It’s something that ultimately gave him pause every time he went further down the path of his own rebellion. But the truth was, he always expected his brothers to find out about what he was doing. And he trusted them - even if he didn’t trust everyone around them. “Yeah.” He paused awkwardly. “ … should I go … ?”’ Fred sighed, bringing a hand up to rub his tired eyes. It wasn’t like he was planning on leaving Mungo’s anytime soon, and there wasn’t much else he could do here while he waited to be let back into Angelina’s room. “No, stay. You can help me decide if I should get her enough balloons to fill the whole room or a giant stuffed dragon.” Percy sat tentatively, perched on the edge of the chair. He smoothed the edge of his blazer and continued watching Fred out of the corner of his eye. George felt so much. But so did Fred. He knew he probably wanted to rage at him but the exhaustion was taking hold. And really, this visit was more about he and Angelina than having it out. He would leave that to Fred to decide. “Half the room with balloons, the other half with the dragon. Because later, she can either fly the dragon or the balloons (or both?) right out of the hospital. It will be a victorious exit for certain.” Fred let out a short laugh, blaming exhaustion for him finding Percy, of all people, even remotely funny. He sunk down into the chair next to Percy, leaving the supplies at his feet, elbows on knees and head in hands. “So you wanted to talk, or whatever?” “Whatever you want, Fred,” he said quietly, staring at his hands folded in his lap. Without anything to do, he picked at a stray cuticle and attempted to keep his breathing steady. “I just --” wanted to show you I’m trying. “I just wanted to make sure you had what you needed.” Waiting in Mungo’s for someone who had been bitten by something dark brought back far too many memories of their father’s attack, and while it was easy to push that aside and focus on Angelina when he was with her, trying to comfort her, out in the waiting room the two blurred together. “This time,” Fred pointed out bitterly, not even looking at Percy. “When it’s your friend in there rather than your family.” “I know,” he said quietly. “I wasn't there when it happened to Dad or Bill or George. And I regret it. I should have been there.” Percy still smarted at his father -- still didn't know how much he was ready to forgive -- but believed that growth came from looking at the whole picture. And it was more than Arthur. More than his own hurt feelings. He was willing to swallow them so far. “There are things about myself I don't like.. And I'm sorry they've been front and center all too much.” “Any one of them could have died,” Fred pointed out, lifting his head from his hands, voice catching in his throat. He took a deep, shaky breath, willing himself not to let his emotions get the better of him in front of Percy. “And, okay, yeah, you’re mad at dad but that’s not worth all of this. It’s not worth any of this. I at least thought after one near death experience you would’ve realised what was important but you continued to not show up. So maybe you’re here right now, but, honestly Perce, it’s impossible to trust that you won’t just bail again.” “I don’t expect you to trust me. I don’t even expect you to like sitting next to me, Fred. But I can’t make it better, I can’t rebuild it, if I don’t try …” He paused and, turned to face Fred more squarely, keeping his gaze trained on his brother. “So that’s why I’m here. I want to try.” “So is this a start? I went to see Mum, too.” His head ducked quickly. “We had a good talk. I told her about what I’m doing with Hooter and with Oliver. And how I want to make it up to all of you.” Fred had to look away as Percy looked at him, fighting a wave of emotion. For so long all he’d wanted to do was yell at Percy for everything he’d done. For everything he hadn't done. Years of anger that he hadn't had a good outlet for. And now Percy was right here in front of him and instead of anger there was just a huge lump in his throat, and tears fighting to make their way out of his eyes. What was wrong with him? “Oliver?” Fred repeated, risking a glance back over at his brother, voice still shaky. “What does Oliver have to do with any of this?” “ … um.” Percy smiled softly, pushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I’m with Oliver.” Then, back to the matter at hand, he reached out tentatively, placing his palm on Fred’s shoulder. “I mean it, Fred. I’m here. It’s a start.” Fred’s eyes widened for a moment as that sunk in, but then he realised it made sense. No wonder Percy had lost it over Oliver’s dementor attack, who was he to judge when he’d camped out in Mungo’s for similar reasons. Of course, he would have done the same if it had been any of his family too, even Percy, and Percy couldn't say the same. That still smarted. Fred shrugged off Percy’s hand, regretting it the second his brother's hand fell away but too proud, too stubborn to reverse his action. “There's still a long way to go.” “Okay.” So there was the line. And it had to be respected. Percy repositioned, gathering his hands in his lap and training his eyes to the scuffed hospital tile. It was a hideous blue colour, the sort he supposed that hid the dirt and the scuffs of a thousand feet that had been here before. When he spoke again, his voice was brittle. This was hard. But he had to keep throwing himself against it or risk losing them all for good. “Okay,” he said. “There is.” Percy swallowed. “I can go … ?” “Yeah, maybe you should.” Fred wished he could take the words back as soon as they tumbled from his mouth, stomach falling as he chanced a quick glance at Percy. He bit down on his cheek, hard, then reached for the bag of toiletries Percy had brought him. With hesitation that was unfamiliar to him, Fred placed his free hand on Percy’s knee, using it to push himself back into a standing position then folding his arms tightly around himself like it had never happened. “But…,” his eyes danced around the face that had once been so familiar to him, committing all the changes to memory. “Don't be a total stranger.” He nodded, affording his brother a tentative nod. Even if Fred wanted him gone, he could feel him trying; they had to re-engineer themselves around all the broken places. Rising, he gestured into the hospital room. “ … I won't. Tell her I said hello, won't you? And it really was good to see you, Fred. I've missed you.” With another awkward, brief half smile, he turned back down the hall and was gone. |