Tension

Author's Notes: The story is a missing moment from Chapter Sixteen (Frosty Christmas) of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Enjoy! And please, feel free to review. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Harry trailed after Scrimgeour as he charged ahead, leading him deeper into the garden, away from the Burrow's inviting kitchen. Soon, the eyes once fixed so intently on the Minister's recoiling figure, turned their gaze on the man standing at the door.

Percy Weasley stood alone, his face rigid and impassive before the familiar sound of Molly's breathing. He was accustomed to his siblings' sneering, used to his parents' disapproving gestures. Their attitude had gone on long enough to tire him. And today that was going to change.

The smell of tension pervaded the room from one end to another, so strong that Percy could feel his face contort into a painful grimace. He tried to ignore the tingling pain in his throat, but the oppressive atmosphere left him with a residue of impatience and irritation. Repenting the urge to stand up for himself, he remained trapped in the deafening silence of Harry's and Scrimgeour's absence. Someone would eventually - hopefully- take the lead and shatter that quiet...

"So, Percy, you came at last," growled Ginny. "I should admit that's quiet an honour...Are you here to remind us all of your presence, or are you simply running an errand for the Minister?"

"Yeah, Perce," rasped Fred. "Is there a badge involved or something? By the way, we've forgotten how much you'd love a promotion lately..."

Percy's face turned a sickly pale. "Do you think I'm so inconsiderate?" he asked his brother.

Fred laughed. "No, I don't think that you're so inconsiderate. I'm just saying that you're sorry you didn't come a couple of months ago, so that you could be promoted earlier this year. You know, there's a great difference between selfishness and humiliation."

Percy clenched his teeth at their deprecating smile. He stared at the crowd, searching for a narrow escape from the tension that threatened to explode. All of a sudden, he had a nagging feeling that his pursuit would culminate in a dead-end situation. And the derision in his family's tone had begun to undermine his confidence.

However, the longer he looked at his siblings, the more he turned aggrieved. Judging him was easy for them; all they had to do was limited to pretended defiance and criticism. None of them tried to understand. Their relatives saw him as the other Weasley, the self-centred and ungrateful son. Why? He was the one who strained to gain the admiration his parents so blatantly disregarded. He knew for sure that his was different from them. Nonetheless, he had his own qualities and talents. Where had any student only three years out of school ever been offered such position in the Minister of Magic? Percy wasn't about to turn the job down or even apologise for it.

"You're right," he said. "There's a significant difference indeed. And I assume you have a first-hand experience of that."

Molly let out a small sob, and he scooted forward to find his mother's eyes filled with tears. Naturally, this reaction would have upset him. Having kept his distance from all family members though, he found it surprisingly easy to dismiss any guilt he felt at causing the woman's feelings to come unravelled.

The man who sat beside her, however, looked calm, unmoved by the words that still lingered on in the room. Arthur Weasley gazed steadily at his plate, apparently uninterested in its contents. No matter how betrayed he felt, his father would never say anything about the Ministry and their ironic comments (particularly when it came to Arthur's love for Muggle objects and mechanisms). Instead, he hoped to come up with an answer, drawing breath to face his son.

"You've always expected a response to your contemptuous manners...But once you realised we'd never be what you wanted us to become, you stopped worrying about your family. Disdain became your shield. And there was no room for us under it."

Arthur's cold tone made Percy flush with anger. "What are you trying to do? Are you trying to make me feel guilty? I'm certainly not to blame for your mistakes!" he shot back.

"Mistakes? I've never claimed that I'm infallible."

"You kept going on about how brilliant Muggles are, and look at the consequences!"

"Do you expect me to change my beliefs for some narrow-minded Ministry workers?"

Percy felt his skin draw tight around his eyes, but before he could muster his forces, Molly grabbed a plate piled high with turkey and potatoes and passed it to him. Food was a remedy to his mother. And it was truly amazing how she would use to hide trouble and bring about reconciliation among relatives.

"Here Percy, dear. Here, take this! I've made your favourite! Mashed potatoes! Please, sit down and have a bite!" She shot daggers at the twins, forcing them to make room for their brother on the bench.

Percy disregarded the move, averting his eyes from his family. "You don't have to do that, mother. I'm here on the Minister's behalf, and I doubt I'll stay long enough to enjoy a meal. So obviously, I have no need of your cooking."

He stated the limits of his visit firmly, without realising the unfriendliness he might display or the way he chose to emphasize the word 'your'. The look on Ginny's face seemed unusual, distant. Apparently, his last comment had been the final straw.

Molly's shoulders began shaking with sobs, and Arthur said: "You don't need to hurl such abuse at us, son. Your problem..."

"I have no problem! This is your problem! How can you not see what's happening? You think that you know everything about the War, but here you are, playing silly games with immature children! You may have refused to work for the government, but I haven't. This is where I belong. And if you can't accept that, then I'm probably no son of yours."

Molly's sobs reverberated around the room, as Arthur stared dismally at his son. "See? We're not so different after all. We blame each other, and this is where it all comes to. If only you understood..." he trailed off.

From the corner of his eye, Percy saw the Minister leaning toward Harry. He knew that Scrimgeour shouldn't be very optimistic about this conversation. Potter would never agree to the government's advice, offering them help. Any attempt was futile. In the final analysis, that boy was the reason the War had started. And in his adolescent mind, challenging the Minister's authority seemed highly pleasurable.

"I understand," he muttered. "At least, I understand more than a sixteen-year-old boy with provocative attitude."

Staring out of the window, Arthur mentally followed Harry's effort to bash Scrimgeour's political manipulation. "Then, you simple don't know. You're still a child, whose academic success has convinced him that he's actually an adult."

The end was near. Molly took the plate again in her trembling hands. "Are you sure you don't want to eat, dear? Do have a bite, before..."

"I said I don't need your cooking!" With one violent move, he knocked the plate from his mother's hands.

So that was how things were. Despite his achievements, despite the recognition he had earned, Arthur Weasley still perceived him as a weak, self-righteous child.

His hand moved swiftly to his trouser pocket. Instantly, his siblings bolted up, forming a defensive ring around their parents. The twins stood in front of their mother, while Ginny held a pointing wand tightly in one hand. Ron, on the other hand, used his wand to neutralise the threat of a jinx flashing behind his head.

A glimpse of his duelling sister set Percy's pulse racing. He gripped his wand with burning determination and opened his mouth to cast a spell, but no words came out. Dodging, he managed to avoid a jet of red light that swished past him.

"You must be out of your mind!" he screamed in agony, feeling the sweat pouring down his face. The hex that had just landed beside him, hit viciously the ground, cracking a couple of floorboards open in the process.

"That'll do!" cried Arthur. He stepped in front of his younger children, holding one careful hand out. The tremor in his voice had already made his position clear; he would not allow his family to tear the house down.

Refusing to look at their brother, the twins handed their wands to Arthur. Ginny followed their actions, after giving Percy a stern look. Once, awkwardness and rejection were back again.

Wrestling himself to a decent position, Percy Weasley adjusted his hat and straightened his robes. Even though he was still standing in the Burrow's kitchen, he knew that nothing was the same any more. Not even his family.

Reaching his pocket, he made certain that his wand was secured for fear of an unexpected retrogression. He turned on the spot, and reached for the doorknob.

"Percy, wait!" cried George.

Hoping that someone would pinch him on the arm, waking him up from that excruciating dream, Percy turned to face his brother one last time.

"You forgot something."

And then a thick mixture of meat and vegetables swooshed through the air and landed with saddening force against Percy's staggered face.

He spun on his heel (oscillating between feelings of desperation and anger for a moment) and, upset by his heartbeats, he tried to get rid of that useless burden of betrayal. He left the house by the back door.