Nobody But Yourself

Nobody But Yourself

Chapter Three - Lie to me

"Does it get easy?" - "What do you want me to say?" - "Lie to me." - Buffy and Giles, BtVS season two, episode # 19: "Lie to me"

Percy sits still at his desk in his office as the door creaks open. He doesn't raise his eyes to meet the figure he is sure to see if he did. He doesn't acknowledge the other's presence, doesn't even let on that he had heard the door slide open.

If his father knows that Percy knows he's there, then he doesn't say anything. Percy reckons his father is embarrassed, and maybe confused. It's still difficult to be normal around each other, especially when they are alone, like they are now.

It's been almost one year, and Percy doesn't know how long he can play the indifferent son, the good child, the one to be proud of. Because every night, when he's alone in his bed, he wonders if his parents kiss, touch, love each other. He wonders if Arthur likes the way his wife touches him, likes to kiss her and make love to her. He wonders if sometimes, Arthur thinks of him, Percy, while making love to his wife. He wonders if Arthur ever thinks of that incident in this very office, if he ever wishes to repeat that performance, if he wants to take it to another level. If he wants more, more of Percy and his touches.

Because Percy certainly wants more. He wants more of Arthur, wants more of everything, wants what he can't have, as always.

Finally, Percy sighs and raises his head, seeing his father standing in the doorway, slightly leaning onto the door. The pose so much resembles the one he'd been in only a year ago - pinned against the door with Percy's hand down the front of his trousers, a look of pure ecstasy on his face - that Percy swallows, hard, and averts his eyes.

"It's late." His father steps into the office, hesitantly at first, but then he sits down quickly.

Percy nods, pointing to the mass of parchments and notes on his desktop. "I have much work to do," he says. "This whole mess with Mr Crouch and then the inquiry - I have to fill out so many forms and reports that I can't even do my regular work beside that."

"The hearing is next week, isn't it?" his father asks, glancing at the watch, fidgeting in his seat.

"Yes," says Percy, still scribbling furiously. He can't really say what he's writing - he only knows he can't stop, or he'll do or say something he'll regret. Like that one time, a few months ago, when he'd been in the kitchen with Arthur, late at night.

The meeting had been a coincidence. Percy couldn't sleep some nights, and it was usually during those late, sleepless hours that he got up and sat alone in the kitchen, staring at the wooden table, hoping that he'd have the strength to remember not to let himself go when he saw Arthur again.

And then he was there, suddenly, without warning. And Percy jumped, startled out of his reverie.

"Can't sleep?" his father asked nervously, his hand shaking as he took a glass and filled it with water.

"No," Percy said, and despite better judgement he watched his father.

"Nightmare?"

"No," he said again, still staring at Arthur's hands, imagining the things they could do to him, the things he wanted them to do to him.

"Do you want some tea?" his father asked, this time, his voice held a silent desperation, the need to just say something.

"No," Percy choked out, almost whispering this time.

Arthur's hands suddenly moved out of his field of vision - Arthur hid them behind his back, his serious gaze finding Percy's eyes.

Percy blushed, knowing that his father had caught him staring.

"Percy," his father started, taking a step towards him as if to comfort him, but then he stops, self-consciously biting his lip. "I know this isn't easy for you--"

Percy didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to be told how unnatural and perverse he was - he knew that already. He knew it was wrong to love his father like this, he knew it was wrong to lust after his father, to want to touch him. And this knowledge, the knowledge that it was impossible, wrong, depraved, suddenly filled him with an intense rage.

Abruptly, he stood up, his face now flush with anger. "You know nothing!" he hissed, stabbing a finger at his father's chest. "You don't know how I feel! Don't you dare say you understand me when you have no idea how I feel!" He screamed that last part, and his father cringed, taking a step backwards. Percy didn't care if anyone heard him, if he woke mum or anyone else up, didn't care about anything, really.

Of course, all of this just had to get more complicated than it was already, because Arthur then noticed the unmistakeable bulge in Percy's pyjama bottoms, a reminder of his forbidden thoughts of Arthur's hands touching him in places he wished to be touched most desperately.

Arthur, in true Weasley manner, blushed and took another step backwards, and Percy breathed out slowly, willing himself to calm down. He managed to walk up the stairs and into his room with a natural pace. It was only after he had locked himself in and put up the silencing spells that he let himself break down and sob. He'd cried all night, cried because of what he saw in his father's eyes - the shock, the disgust, the revulsion and the rejection, all mingled together and sharp as an arrow piercing Percy's heart.

"Your mother told me to bring you home for today." Arthur's calm voice brings Percy back to the present, but the memory of their late night encounter is still fresh in his mind.

"She said you work too much, which isn't good for you, and that never spend time with the family any more."

Percy smiles thinly, thinking that this had been what he had wanted. It wasn't as bad when it was all of them, his brothers and sister, and his parents. Then he could scold the twins for playing jokes on him, or berate Ron because his marks were slipping and he'd have to take his OWLs next year and he should study more. He could help Ginny with her potions essays and watch his mother fussing over Bill and Charlie who only came home once a year or so. He wouldn't have to talk to the one person he longed to talk to - really talk, not have these fake small talk conversations with like he does now.

"Just come home for the day, Percy," his father says, standing up slowly but not leaving yet. He obviously wants to wait for an answer.

"I'm coming," Percy says, and closes the file.

When he walks beside his father along the corridor towards the Apparition chambers - both careful not to touch the other - he wonders why it all has to be so fucking complicated.

***

A few days later the summer holidays at Hogwarts start, and Percy forces himself to go home earlier than usual, which pleases his mother to no end. The twins, however, don't seem to enjoy his presence much, because they still tease and taunt him every chance they get. Percy endures it without complaining too much - he only gives them his "I have important work to do and will you two just grow up already!" lecture and everyone is happy. Or at least everyone except him.

When Percy comes home a few days after the holidays have started, he has good news. He still can't believe it - the Minister himself wants him as his Junior Assistant! After that disastrous affair with Crouch, Percy had been anxious that he might lose his job. He had asked himself hundreds of times how he could have failed to notice the difference. But then again, he'd had a lot to think about - or a lot to forget about - and it hadn't been that unusual for Mr Crouch to send Percy an owl with orders. But mental illness - he certainly hadn't imagined that!

But now it's all well, he thinks happily, entering the Burrow through the front door. As Junior Assistant, I'll earn much more money, and I'll be more than just "Weatherby".

Maybe he'll finally find some sort of peace, even if it is shallow and feeble, but at least it's there.

"Mum!" Percy calls, flinging his robes onto the rack. "I'm home!"

"Percy," his mother says, coming into the room. "We're all in the kitchen. I'm so glad you could make it in time for dinner."

"I've got good news, too," Percy says, for the first time in weeks smiling for real. His jaw is aching from the almost permanent smile on his face; his muscles aren't used to this any more, but he simply can't stop himself - this promotion is everything he needs to get some kind of normalcy back into his life, everything he needs to forget his past and move on to a hopefully better future.

A pang of sadness and despair hits him when he realises that this better future won't have a place for Arthur in it - it would have a place for his father and the rest of his family, yes, but not for Arthur. His smile faltering a bit, he forces himself to be reasonable. There is no future with Arthur, but he can at least try and get his father back. He promises himself to ban Arthur from his thoughts completely from now on.

Determined, he smiles even more broadly, and his mother, noticing the change in her son, smiles back and wraps an arm around his midriff, giving Percy a quick hug. "Well, then tell us at the table so that everyone can hear."

"Everyone? Are Bill and Charlie here then?" Percy asks curiously.

"No, Charlie's still in Romania. He won't come to visit this summer, I'm afraid. And Bill is starting at Gringotts in London next month, so it would be a waste of money to visit now."

Percy nods. Of course.

Together with his mother, Percy enters the kitchen, and sees the twins, sniggering over another fake wand or a biscuit that turns whoever eats it into a giant slug. Ron is sitting next to Ginny, talking about Quidditch. Percy can see that Ginny is bored by Ron's constant laudatory of the Chudley Cannons. He knows that Ginny is more of a Harpies fan herself. He flashes Ginny a smile that she returns, rolling her eyes at an oblivious Ron.

"Listen, you lot," his mother says, smiling. "Percy's got good news!"

His father glances up over his reading glasses and puts the Prophet aside and Percy, grinning, says "I've been promoted today!"

Everyone is silent for a second, then his mother wraps him in another hug and tells him that she's proud of him. The twins and Ron look bored, and mutter a short "Congrats, Perce" without really acknowledging him. He was expecting that, so it doesn't hurt him as much as it might have.

"I'm glad for you, Percy," Ginny says, and he places a small kiss on her head.

Then, finally, he turns to his father, not sure what to expect. His stomach is churning and his legs feel weak. What is he going to say?

"What is your new position?" Arthur asks, his eyes devoid of emotion.

Percy frowns - his father's eyes always hold some sort of emotion, even if his face is expressionless at times, and he can't quite believe that the man with the blank eyes is his father. This bored indifference in Arthur's eyes would be more fitting in Lucius Malfoy's eyes; Percy feels anxious when looking into them. And his voice is wary, as if suspicious of what Percy will say next.

"Junior Assistant to the Minister," Percy replies, warily watching his father's reaction. "The Minister himself offered me the job."

His father only makes a small grunting noise to tell Percy that he's heard him, but otherwise continues to stare at the wall behind Percy.

"A-after that disaster with Mr Crouch I didn't think that I would get a better job than I had - I actually thought they were going to fire me," Percy says unsteadily, unsure of what to say. Why didn't Arthur show a reaction at all? What was wrong?

"Fudge himself," his father then murmurs, sighing deeply.

Percy, brow furrowed in confusion, turns to his mother, who has lost her blinding smile.

"What's wrong?" Percy finally asks, his voice a bit sharper than he had intended. "Tell me!"

"Fudge suddenly offers you a position on his staff - where he can have you under surveillance. It's obvious what he wants!" his father says, dismissively waving his hands around. "Fudge only took you in so he could obtain information about us, Percy. He doesn't believe Harry when he says that You-Know-Who is back, and he's afraid that Dumbledore and his friends could make his life uneasy for him. Why else would he offer you such a high promotion?"

Percy can only stare for a few seconds. His father thinks that the Minister only--

But that can't be, he thinks. It can't! Minister Fudge told me. He said "I've been watching you, boy. You are punctual and conscientious, you work hard and you are smart, you'll be a good Junior Assistant!"

"No," Percy says, his voice shaking with rage and disappointment and something else he can't define. "No! You're lying!"

"Percy," his father says. "Try to be reasonable. Fudge could have taken anyone else - but he chose you of all people. You've been in the Ministry for only a year now, and you've been involved in some fishy business - of course that wasn't your fault, but it's still strange that Fudge appoints you his Junior Assistant - only five days after Harry Potter tells the world that You-Know-Who's back!"

"No!" Can't his father see that's he is the unreasonable one? Can't he see that Percy is good at what he does? Why else would Fudge want him if not for the fact that he is good at what he does? And since when is the word of some teenage boy with delusions of grandeur more important than that of his own son? Apparently since I am - of all people - good enough to be promoted when he is still sitting in his lousy broom cupboard of an office! he thinks heatedly, not caring if he loses himself in his anger. But of course, I am useless - worthless - compared to great Harry Potter and his own personal Dark Lord! I can't believe Arthur's buying this boy's lies! And after what the Daily Prophet's been saying about him, too. He's a complete nutter! That Potter is obviously trying to gain attention and more fame than he already has, but no one suspects him to have ulterior motives, no! Only when it comes to swotty little nancy-boy Percy Weasley! Who does he think I am? Not even good enough to make it on my own, am I?

"Liar!" Percy doesn't even realise he's yelling at his father.

"Percy! I will not have you speak to me like that, I am still your father!" Arthur suddenly shouts, and the kitchen falls silent for a moment. Everyone is shocked, because it doesn't happen often that Arthur shouts at anyone. He hardly ever raises his voice, and then he's mostly angry with the twins because of one of their jokes went awry.

And then Percy snaps. The whole year unravels before him, and he can see every little detail that has happened since the incident. All the secret glances he sneaked at his father, and the blank looks he got in return. All the accidental touches and the cringing and wincing form of Arthur. All the times they were alone together, and wouldn't dare look each other in the eye. Or when they had to pretend to be all right even if they weren't. To be father and son and not... whatever they were. Arthur and Percy. Percy wants so much to be just Percy, and for Arthur to be just Arthur, and for the two of them to be together, and he knows he can't have it and he's screaming inside. He simply snaps like an overstrung bowstring pulled one millimetre too far.

Snap.

"And why the hell not? I can talk however I want!" he screams, shouting out his anger and frustration. "But you never saw that, did you? You never noticed me at all! You always saw me as just another Weasley, just like everyone else does! Only when I do things wrong, then you suddenly see me! When I--" he can't go on. Percy knows that he can't say it. But he has to say something. "You saw me then, only to look at me, disgusted and ashamed!"

His father knows what he's talking about, and Percy sees his eyes flutter closed for a second, only to snap back open, accusing Percy of talking about the unmentionable. Out of some silent agreement, neither of them had until now brought up the incident voluntarily. They usually avoid talking about it and pretend it never happened. And now Percy is breaking the unwritten rules. Again.

His mother slowly edges closer and moves as if to hug him, calm him down, and he turns around, fury blazing in his eyes. At that moment, he hates his mother. Hates her for all the things his father wouldn't do to him, with him, but with her. He hates her, and when he sees realisation rushing over her face and sees her eyes glaze over with tears, he suppresses a complacent smirk, grim satisfaction spreading in his body. It feels good to let his anger hurt people other than himself for a change.

"Everyone looks at me and sees red hair, ergo I must be another useless Weasley. No one ever gave me the chance to be myself, not you," he spats at his father, "and not the rest of the world! Every time I come into a room at the Ministry, everyone thinks of great barmy Arthur Weasley and his stupid Muggle fetish."

His father cringes, and his eyes flicker over to the Muggle lamp sitting on the nearest drawer. He hadn't been able to figure out how it works, so it just stood there, the naked light bulb glittering in the candle light like a bald head.

"Yes, that's right. Muggle fetish! Do you know that they all laugh at you - not, at all of us, just because you have to love Muggle things. They make crude jokes and insinuations about how much you love Muggle artefacts, inventing new uses for your special collection of plugs!" Percy sees his siblings staring at him incredulously; he can't remember shouting that much ever before, but it feels too good to stop now. "Do you know that particular joke about mum and a plug, and how they are interchangeable for all you care?"

His mother blanches and tears slide silently down her cheeks. It's the first time in years Percy's seen her this silent, but he doesn't care that he hurts her.

"Percy Ignatius Weasley, you will apologise to your mother this instant! Don't you dare insult her like that - she's still your mother and you will respect her for that. She's had a hard life, raising the seven of you with what little we had, and you can be glad she loves you like she does!"

Percy can only snort. His mother's had a hard life? Well, so has he. "Right, and whose fault is it that her life is so fucking hard, Dad?" he shouts, giving the word "dad" a whole new meaning. Percy notices with glee how Arthur flinches and pales considerably. And he feels good breaking the rules again and again. "If you hadn't been this damn stupid, you could be Minister now! Or at least the Head of a department that's not about Muggles and their bloody quirks and ingenious inventions. You could be powerful and rich, and instead you are the poor loser that everyone laughs at. You are the one who makes us look bad. You are the one who we are connected to the second we are born. You are the reason everything is falling apart! It's all your fault!"

Percy tries to hold back, but he can't help himself. His eyes start burning and there's a lump in his throat but he refuses to cry. He will not show any more weakness, never again.

"You're the reason," he continues, his voice quivering with anger and accusation. "You are the reason we always had to go around in second-hand robes, buy second-hand books, the reason why they all looked down on us. Did you think we were actually happy, being as poor and worthless as we were? Poor-as-shit Weasleys, the family that lives in a rubbish bin, that's what we were always called. We--"

"You little shit!" Fred shouts now, jumping up. Seconds later, everyone is standing, and they are all advancing on Percy - except for his mother who is still crying quietly - until Percy draws his wand and casts a silencing spell on them. George looks as if he's still shouting and his eyes bulge and he looks like a fish to Percy, who has to fight the fit of hysterical laughter that threatens to escape his throat.

Then his mother starts screaming and grabs Percy's wand. Percy sees the faraway look in her eyes, mixed with a spark of insanity, and he fears that she might not understand that his siblings are only silenced, not harmed permanently.

His mother is till shrieking unintelligibly and starts pounding on his chest with her fists. And while she usually is quite strong, she is now drained of her power from exhaustion. It doesn't hurt him physically, but in his soul, Percy knows that his mother will never look at him like she used to do before this evening. The only thing he doesn't know is if he wants her to.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she sobs, and Percy feels guilty for a second. But then Arthur takes his wife and hugs her, and she clings to him like a drowning person would cling to their rescuer and Percy's jealousy flickers back to life with incredible force. He narrows his eyes and jerks his father away from his mother, dragging him a few feet away. "This isn't over," he hisses. "I have much more to say and you will listen or I swear I'll- I'll- Argh!"

Percy clenches his free hand and groans in frustration. This is all so fucked up that he can't seem to find the right words, and if he can't find the right words, he'll never be able to feel better.

Arthur shrugs off Percy's other hand and takes Molly by the arm, guiding her out of the kitchen. "You four, come with me," he says over his shoulder to the twins and Ron and Ginny. Although Arthur's voice is calm, Percy can hear the suppressed rage and the anger.

A minute later, Arthur is back in the kitchen and closes the door behind him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he snarls, and Percy winces.

"You know exactly what's wrong with me!" he shouts, angry at his father for being so calm and composed, with cold rage burning behind those blue eyes Percy wants to sink into and never come back.

"Yes, but you can't let that be your excuse for everything! You hurt your mother, and you will apologise to her first thing tomorrow, do you hear me?"

"You really expect me to do that?" Percy whispers, suddenly not able to shout any more. "I can't!" he protests. "I can't."

"And why ever not? She's your mother and she loves you. She's worried about you and she cares about you. You hurt her last year, every time you came home late and went to the Ministry early, and still she defended you. You owe her an apology!"

"But I can't!" The tears are falling now, and Percy sobs. "I can't. Because if I do, I'll have to look her in the eyes and hug her and talk to her. And I can't do that because she's yours." The last word is so faint a whisper that even Percy himself can't hear it. But Arthur knows anyway.

"Percy, you can't go on like this! I thought you were over all this already," he says, calmer now. He is worried, but Percy can only see pity, and it infuriates him.

"Don't say that!" he yells. "You have no idea what you're talking about! And how would you, being who you are?"

"And what, pray tell, am I then?" Arthur asks, his voice growing louder with every word. "Tell me, Percy, what I am!"

Percy has a sick feeling in his stomach. The constant rise and fall of their voices makes his ears hurt, and he can still feel the tingling sensation in his fingertips where he touched Arthur's wrist only moments ago and it's too much to bear.

"You!" Percy is gesturing wildly, taking a step backwards. It's easier to think when he's farther away from Arthur. "You are an old fool, just like Dumbledore," he hollers. "Can you really believe some addle-brained boy saying You-Know-Who's back and simply ignore the Ministry's policy? Do you think it works that way? Well, I can tell you it doesn't! The Ministry will try to take Dumbledore out of the picture - he's a threat to us, can't you see? And everyone on his side will fall with him, and no one will help you up again. You'll lose what lousy job you have and the poor amount of money you make. And then you'll stand there with nothing, and your precious Harry Potter will have his fortune and Dumbledore will have his bloody sweets, eating them merrily in some dumpster where he'll live and you will have nothing at all! Nothing!"

There is silence for a few seconds, and all Percy can hear is his ragged panting breath and the low ticking of the clock. Angrily, Percy pushes his horn-rimmed glasses back on his nose and continues, this time a bit quieter.

"You will all go down... but I don't want to go down with you," he says. I am already down, he thinks. "If you can't see what you have to do - well, I can. I know I couldn't stand to be even less than I am now - just a faceless, nameless redhead in a horde of Weasleys. If you want to believe that silly Potter boy, go ahead. But don't expect me to follow you into this mess. I've had enough of that, really." Percy doesn't know why he says these things. He only knows he wants to hurt his father, and so far, he seems to be successful.

His father stares at him incredulously. "Percy, do you have any idea what you're talking about?" he finally asks, shaking his head. "You can't be serious!"

"I am! I am deadly serious. You want to believe the boy wonder - fine with me, just don't try and talk me out of following the Ministry. I at least will have a stable income without having to fear being fired every month. I won't have to grovel in front of mighty Harry Potter and the great Albus Dumbledore."

"No, you'll only grovel in front of Fudge, that thick-headed puddingface," his father says, his voice bitter and tense.

"At least he'll know I'm not 'another Weasley' but Percy, the one Weasley who's not a traitor," Percy says dryly, tired of arguing. He wants to go and sleep for ten hours at least. Then it hits him: He'll have to leave - again. Only this time, he could stay away without having to worry about curious siblings and inquiring mothers. Maybe some of his problems could be solved after all.

"It's not just about being someone, Percy, it's also about liking who you are!" Arthur looks sad and, at the same time, furious. "Only because you will be Percy Weasley instead of just a Weasley doesn't mean it will be better for you."

Percy finally raises his eyes enough to look into his father's face, and their eyes lock. They stare at each other for a long time, until Percy slowly starts shaking his head.

"I can't be with whom I want to be, and what sense does it make for me to be tortured more than I am already? I can't stay here, for two reasons. One, you are running blindly into your ruin, and I won't run after you and let you pull me down. And two," Percy pauses, averting his eyes. "Well, you know that already, don't you?"

Arthur looks down, too, and Percy wants to laugh. The situation is so absurd and so difficult and he could cry and laugh at the same time but he doesn't because he knows it'll do him no good if he stays and cries and apologises.

"Can't you--? I mean, you still--? Why don't you--?" Arthur doesn't finish any of these questions, and Percy feels empty. His father obviously doesn't understand what this is about. He doesn't understand that Percy can't just stop liking him, or that Percy didn't even want to like him like that in the first place. Why does he have to make everything do bloody difficult?

"If I still want you? Why I don't - can't - stop wanting you?" he asks quietly, calmly, while he is raging inside.

Arthur nods, desperation showing in his eyes. "Why can't it be normal again? Like it was before?"

Percy smiles faintly and shakes his head. "I can't take back what I said and did - I meant it all." He pauses, still smiling mechanically. "I still mean it."

"I--"

But Percy doesn't want his father to say anything. If he says that it's not normal, that I'm sick, then I'll scream until I die, he thinks, and before his father can open his mouth to speak, Percy speaks up. "I'll move out."

"Why?" his father asks, more out of reflex than any real interest in knowing the answer, because a second later, he shakes his head.

Percy, however, can't let that chance pass by without seizing it, so he quickly pulls his father closer and presses his lips against Arthur's dry mouth. He didn't expect a response, but he is still disappointed when he doesn't get one.

After the first few seconds, Arthur gets over his shock and pushes Percy away, slapping him across the face.

Percy's eyes widen. Never, in his whole life, had his father hurt one of his children. The only time he'd seen him use violence in any form was in his sixth year, when he'd had that brawl with Lucius Malfoy. And now his father had slapped him.

Shocked, Percy stumbles away from his father, who looks just as shocked as Percy feels.

"Percy, I'm so--"

"No, don't!" he says harshly. He doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want to hear anything. He just wants to leave, so he yanks the door open and storms into his room, mirroring his action of a year ago almost perfectly. And then he finally has everything he needs and storms back downstairs, grabbing his cloak.

His mother and siblings are in the living room, silently staring at him as he puts on the cloak and shrinks his winter cloak to put it in his suitcase as well. Then his father emerges from the kitchen, and Percy's reddened cheek begins to burn again.

"Per--"

"Don't talk to me," Percy hisses, fastening the cloak and gripping his suitcase. "Never talk to me again."

And, with one last look at his father's pale face, he Disapparates.

End chapter three