In A Time Of Uncertainty

Part Two, Chapter Twelve

After a few days, much to Percy's relief, things began to fall into a routine.

He would wake up around seven o'clock in the morning to find Hermes, Errol, and Ares sharing a breakfast of dead mice on Hermes's perch. Ares always arrived with a letter tied to his foot; Oliver's notes tended to be short and written more out of affection than necessity. "Puddlemere's Reserve Seeker is marrying a red-haired man," one read. "There's a picture in the Prophet; he's nowhere near as handsome as you." Another: "I'm thinking of getting a cat...maybe a black kitten, what do you think? I hope you aren't allergic, I know Bill is." And then there was Percy's favorite: "Hey, beautiful. I bet you just got out of bed. If I were there I'd kiss your freckles and watch your nose scrunch up." They were always signed the same way. "Yours, Oliver."

Percy spent his mornings at the Ministry, which was also when Oliver had Quidditch practice. Stress and humiliation had made Fudge an irritable employer. On his best days, he snapped orders and reprimanded Percy for the smallest errors. When he was at his worst, he screamed and snapped quills every time he tried to write. With each new headache, Percy became more and more convinced that he should transfer back to the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

"After all," he told Oliver, "anyone can be Junior Assistant. All you have to do is make coffee, take notes, and not complain."

Afternoons were devoted to the Order, which meant further note-taking, but Percy didn't mind because it was voluntary and analytical. They tended to stop working at around five-thirty; then Percy and Oliver would make dinner together and eat.

Percy's father would have loved Oliver's kitchen; it had a refrigerator that was kept cold by magic, along with a blender and coffee-maker that used some sort of battery. "Never got the hang of cooking spells," Oliver commented. "I always end up burning something." But the food he made the Muggle way was excellent, and Percy's mother noticed that Percy looked like he was gaining a few pounds. Oliver didn't mind a bit - that meant there was more for him to pinch.

"It's odd," Percy said to Oliver one night during dinner. They were having grilled chicken and white wine. "Dumbledore's letting me read all those files and write reports on them."

"Not odd at all. He knows you love that sort of stuff."

"No, that isn't what I meant. In order to write an accurate report, I've got to judge someone's character, in a way, to offer an opinion on whether I think they should join the Order. After Crouch and Fudge, you'd think I'd be the last person he'd want."

"Ah," said Oliver, "but now you've shifted your focus from them to me. He must have noticed that your standards of character have changed."

"Shut up," said Percy, and he kissed Oliver on the cheek. Oliver rested one hand on his shoulder.

"Dumbledore's big on second chances," he said.

After dinner on most nights they'd snog on the couch for a while, but they didn't make love, and neither brought up the topic.

Ron still wouldn't come home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the day of Percy and Oliver's three-week anniversary, Charlie announced that he was going back to Romania.

"Oh, don't look so depressed," he told the Recruitment Department. Oliver was staring rather listlessly at the floor. Percy was biting his thumbnail. Mrs. Figg and Mundungus were sighing, their heads resting in their hands. Even Mr. Tibbles looked gloomy. "I'll still come back a lot, you know."

"We won't get a damned thing done, with you gone," muttered Mundungus. "Wood and Percy will start shagging in the library - "

"We will not!" Oliver exclaimed.

" - and Figgy will skin me alive. I'm not joking, Charlie, you'll come home and find she's got herself a pair of new slippers, made from the hide of one Mundungus A. Fletcher."

But Mrs. Figg was looking quite bemused. "Mundungus," she said slowly, "did you just show an interest in doing work?"

Mundungus mumbled something incoherent but most certainly disgruntled.

"There's hope for you yet," she said happily.

"You'll all do just fine without me," said Charlie. "Besides, we always knew I had to go back to Romania. The Order needs more foreign wizards."

"Then make someone else go," said Percy. "You can't leave. If it weren't for you, Mum would still be sobbing over Oliver and me."

Charlie smiled, small and close-lipped. "You'll be all right, Perce."

"I won't. You've got to stay here, and I don't care if I am being selfish. You took me back without one unkind word. You never complained that I'd joined the Order. You helped me come out, even though you didn't think I was ready, and - " To his surprise, Percy realized his voice was beginning to break. He closed his mouth, startled.

"When do you leave?" Oliver asked Charlie as he took Percy's hand.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Then you ought to go home tonight," Oliver said to Percy. They'd planned to spend the evening at Oliver's flat, giving each other much-needed backrubs and drinking champagne in honor of their anniversary.

"Oh no," Charlie said. "Stay here. He's been excited all week, Ol. You ought to have seen him. He raided every wardrobe in the house, looking for a perfect outfit - "

"Charlie, I did not."

"He even asked Ginny what colors she thought looked good on him."

Percy could feel his ears grow hot. "Charlie, shut up, I didn't - "

"She told him blue, brown, green, and black."

"CHARLIE!"

"And he kept asking me about his nose. 'Charlie, do you think my nose is too long? Oliver likes it, but I think that - '"

"CHARLES BERTRAM WEASLEY, SHUT UP BEFORE I HEX YOU!"

"Ginny's right," said Mrs. Figg.

"You nose is fine, love," Oliver assured him.

Mundungus blinked. "Bertram?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Wow, you're tense," said Oliver a few hours later. "Your back is as knotted as an old tree."

"I know. Fudge isn't helping the situation - ooh, right there, that's it - any." Oliver's fingers were strong and insistent. "God, the house is going to be so bloody quiet once Charlie leaves. It'll be just Ginny and me."

"And Ron, once he stops being a stubborn arse."

"I doubt it."

"No, he'll come home, just wait. Living at headquarters has got to be loads worse than living at the Burrow. He looks thinner already."

Percy turned his head. "You saw Ron?"

"For a split second."

"When was this?"

"Two days ago, when I went to visit Remus."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Look, Percy, I meant to, but then that problem came up with the Russian files and I forgot about it. I'm sorry."

"What did he say?" asked Percy after a few seconds.

"Nothing," replied Oliver, sounding very relieved that Percy wasn't angry with him. "I only just barely glimpsed him when I walked by the door to the parlor." He dug his thumbs into Percy's neck.

"You know," Percy said, bending his head, "I think he comes home and visits when I'm at work."

"What makes you think that?"

"I saw his socks in the laundry."

"How d'you know they were his?"

"They had a big 'R' on each toe."

"Fair enough," Oliver said. Percy could hear the amusement in his voice. "Trust me, he'll give in."

"I just wish he'd talk to me, or just listen to me, even. I haven't seen him in months. I don't know if he's taller, or if he's got more freckles, or what he's doing." He sighed. "No, I know what he's doing, he's doing to me what I did to him." He closed his eyes. "And it hurts."

Oliver lifted him onto his lap.

"God," said Percy. "I still can't believe I was such an idiot. My whole life."

"That's not true."

"It is."

"It isn't. Do you know what I think, Perce?"

"No."

"I think you have to learn how to forgive yourself."

"Forgive myself!" Percy exploded. "God, do you think I can just say to myself, 'Oh, okay Perce, it's all right that you were a cruel and insensitive bastard for your whole life, it's fine now because you can forgive yourself'?"

"I didn't say that. I just meant that you don't give yourself room to make mistakes."

"Of course I don't, I've already made enough to last three lifetimes!"

"You have not, now shut up and listen to me. You were a pompous kid who spent too much time on rules. Get over it. You wasted time sucking up to the Ministry. So did a lot of people. You disowned your family. All right, that was stupid as hell, but they're taking you back, and you can't just waste your life wallowing in your own misery."

"WHY NOT?" he screamed.

Oliver took his hand. "Because I won't let you." He rested one hand on Percy's cheek. "God, Percy, don't you realize that I'll still love you no matter what mistakes you make, as long as you keep trying?"

Percy tried to hold back the floods of stinging tears, but it was too late.

"Shh, love, it's okay..."

"Ol..." His voice was an unsteady, quiet wail.

"Shh, it's all right, it's okay..." He chanted the words like a mantra, over and over.

"I love you."

"I know you do, Perce."

Percy didn't even bother to put his arms around Oliver; he just let Oliver hold him, let him stroke his hair and whisper to him until at last the tears had subsided and his body had gone limp.

"I want us to make love," he said when he could finally speak in a normal voice. The timing was bizarre, but somehow it seemed like the right time to say it.

"Not now, I hope."

"No. Next week?"

Oliver laughed. "You never fail to surprise me," he said, and he took Percy's hand and kissed it.