Unhinged

Sometimes I wonder if I'm being childish.

After all, being a prefect, then Headboy, then entering the ministry... isn't that enough? But I still feel my heart batter itself in hearing vicious remarks made by my family. Mother is always saying how proud she is and I look on that fondly... simply because she is the only one who does not harm me to the core with harsh words and so-called jokes.

Jokes it may be to them... but to me, it's as if they're stabbing me in slow fits, with hundreds of knives, over and over... they are never sharp enough to kill me, but always, the dull points wound me.

Over and over.

Just like everything else in my life. Remembering the dark days of my childhood, when my father was constantly gone, when we were always on the run, I remember with startling clarity, the way Charlie told me to "Shut up! You'll get us killed!"

Killed.

He has forgotten what he had said to me all those years ago. I have not. To him, they were words uttered, spoken during a desperate moment. To him, those were words that were not truly meant to harm, to maim. To him, they were simply words.

What were they to me?

To me... they were words that shattered whatever innocence I had left. Innocence. A mixed word. Did I ever have that innocence? Did I ever really have what the word "innocence" meant? Charlie and Bill had that. They were young once. Was I young? I don't remember. The war had happened along just at the time when I was going through what should have been the perfect life. From the first memories that I can dredge... it has always been running.

Running from darkness.

And then it was laughter... but no laughter for me. No one ever remembered Percy, the little boy who was supposed to have treated all those days as vacation. The celebrations didn't include me, because I was too young. The congratulations didn't see me fit, since I was a child.

A child who had survived through perfect black. I was not Charlie who had his quidditch to get him through. Nor Bill, who seemed to be perfect in every way to everyone, brave enough to help father, smart enough to protect mother.

No one remembered me.

The icy cold.

But I can't blame them. It's more my fault. I never said anything about how I felt. How could I? It would have only caused anguish in my mother, disappointment in my father, and looks of betrayal in my siblings. They wouldn't be able to understand how I felt. They would only, once again, think I was being selfish.

As usual.

I didn't want them to look at me with any more disgust than I have already seen. Percy Weasley must be perfect. Strong. Intelligent. The one who everyone picks on.

Except Charlie and Bill. They give me some leeway. I appreciate that. I don't think I could have survived all those years of torment if they had also participated in debilitating me.

Being appointed to the Ministry so soon after Hogwarts; I had thought that maybe, just maybe, I would be given some respect. That I had it made. But what I considered important, they don't. What I think will help the world, they refuse to even take seriously.

And it hurts. Every day of every hour of every moment, I hurt dreadfully. They hold in their hands the frightening possibility of completely destroying me and they have no idea. In their seemingly innocent hands, they hold the power of my life.

My soul is at their mercy.

Because they are my family.

Because of that fact, because the same blood that flows in me runs quickly in theirs. I hurt and writhe in the daily sorrow that continues to inundate my life.

To the point where I wish to shriek for the heavens to strike me dead. In a heartless, agonizing way, sometimes I think that they would not be in the least way affected. They would not care or even fathom the turmoil I went through to die.

All the times I desperately dredged up every good memory I could find in order to prevent myself from casting any sort of killing curse on myself.

But I'm not going to.

Percy Weasley is made of much finer material. I will not submit myself and keel over in the sheer pain. I will steel my soul, harden my heart, and strengthen my will. I find things easier to bear during solitude, for there are no mocking voices that tear at my fragile mindscape.

Working my way through life, through that very muddled life... I can only hope that perhaps, someday, I can come to term of what I have become. Of what I have been made into by circumstances and coincidences.

I cannot blame 'Percy' entirely on my family. I must take some of the blame for not revealing what I was thinking.

The darkness still swallows myself at times.

And I wish to myself, I imagine with certain wonder, that perhaps, if anything had been different, maybe, just maybe, I could have been different. I'd like to think that I would be a completely contented ideal.

But that's just what it was. An ideal.

Percy Weasley is an ideal, someone everyone hates, admires, envies or scorns. There is no other emotion possible. My tears have long since fallen and most of the time, I think they have completely dried up. Another facet to add to my façade of 'heartless and selfish Percy'.

I needed a little love to. As superficial as it sounds, I need care. I crave any sort of affection.

That may be part of the reason why I grew so attached to Penelope. Penny loves me in her own way and I care for her a great deal. I'm not entirely sure whether I can say I love her.

I'm in no condition to love.

Which is why, for reasons that will only be known to myself, I have decided to take a temporary leave of absence from the ministry. I haven't announced it to anyone yes, but Fudge knows... and in his own way, I think he understands. After all, he goes through that sort of doubt with Dumbledore, everyday of his life.

* * * * *

"You're WHAT?!"

Molly Weasley's voice shrieked in it's disbelief, at the fact that Percy, of all people, was taking an unspecified amount of time off from work.

"I'm leaving mum. I don't know how long I'll be back." I'm patient with her. She was the only one to shower any sort of affection on me; and for that, I think I would kill even Dumbledore if she ever asked me to.

My brothers are slightly more restrained in the fact that they were almost bowled over that 'Perfect Percy' was leaving the ministry for the unknown.

I continue in a soothing voice. I know if I don't calm mum's fears, she'll never willingly go, which means that I would have to disappear into the night which would hurt her dreadfully and worry my family needlessly... though the treacherous thought that they might not even care steals across my mind.

"I'll be fine. I'm going to Albania first, then France. I'll also stop by Egypt to visit Bill. I have the money from all that time working at the Ministry that I've saved. It'll be perfectly alright mum."

Fred quirked an eyebrow in question and he asked, "Why suddenly decide to go traveling? Something we need to know about?" His eyes gleamed with the possibilities of blackmail.

I sighed and held up a hand. "Fred and George, it'll be no use trying to figure out what's going on. I used the strongest shielding charms I could find on all my things. Best not try if you don't want to spend the rest of the year in St. Mungo's." My voice had developed a steely edge and even Mum looked at him with undisguised surprise.

Dad was gazing at me, a quizzical look dotting his face. "Son, I'm sure you have your own reasons... but so sudden? Are you sure you have to leave now?"

I can't say anything for a moment. The pain clogs my throat. Cursed feelings of inadequacy. He was the only one I couldn't ever relate to, simply because we were so different. I could talk to Ron, Mum, Ginny, the twins, maybe even Charlie and Bill... someday.

But never him.

Because for the entire time during You-Know-Who’s reign, those horrible years, I don’t have a single memory of my father.

Not a single one.

And I hated myself for it.

"I'm alright dad. It'll be only a few months. I'll send owls in." There is little I can promise to them. What I needed was to keep my own sanity intact. That was all I was searching for.

Ginny suddenly launched herself at me and said, "We'll miss you!"

I patted her on the head. She was the only one that I truly loved without reservation. There was something magnificent in her bearing. If she had been a queen in a past life, I wouldn't have been surprised in the least bit.

"You'll write and tell me everything, right?"

I freeze. It's hard to elicit these sort of promises. One is that I don't wish to have any contact with them for this period. Another is that I have no idea of what to say.

"No promises."

That's the most I can give them.

One by one, they stand up and hug me awkwardly, each passing on the surface gestures of well-wishes. I don't care. I'm going away. That's all that matters.

As I walk out with a single suitcase, mum comes running after me with a bag of food. I have to smile. It's her only way of protecting us; stuffing us with food. I take it and I give her an extra-long hug. I tried to convey all the feelings I had into that hug, but I must admit, I think I did rather poorly.

Because, even as I said, 'See you in a couple months', I knew that wouldn't be the case. I was planning on disappearing for as long as I needed to regain my mind. And I had no hopes in that would be done in less than several years.

So I hugged my only anchor.

And left.

And that was that.

Percy Weasley disappeared from the family tree. At last count, I hadn't seen them for eleven months, fourteen days, six hours, and twelve minutes. I send them owls periodically, just to tell them briefly that I am all right and alive.

I'm not a sadistic bastard. I remember how mum cried during those dark days when there was no sign or signal from dad on whether he was alive or not. I wasn't going to let that happen again to mum. She deserved more than that.

Hermes is extremely smart. He absolutely refuses to take back letters to me or even allow Errol to follow him. I'm still startled by the amount of devotion he puts into me. It's... comforting, in it's own way.

I keep telling myself that I'm getting better... but it's not working. I'm still waking from nightmares that twist my nights into cruel parodies of rest. I am still the same frightened boy that had left the Burrow out of sheer desperation.

I've found new things to do. I've saved a few lives, earned enough money to support myself for a long time. It's a touch and go life that so far has no impact on me. Whether here or there.

Sweet misery.

But I know, someday, once the demons have released their grasps of my sanity, I will return. I am connected with that slightly battered house and its occupants. If not because they are my blood, my flesh, my soul.

I will return.

Even if it means my death.

* * * * *

Percy is a favorite character of mine. Flame me and not him. Reviews are wanted and welcomed!