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The Weight of Living	By : percyplusoliver Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Percy/Oliver Views: 4738 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This can also be found at AO3. I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters. I am not making any money from this story. I just do this for kicks :) Note: This begins around HBP-era

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Percy lay awake for what seemed like hours. It wasn’t entirely due to Oliver’s loud snores, but that didn’t help. He was terrified that the Snatchers had seen their faces, that they had been recognised. They were not exactly inconspicuous. He was a member of one of Britain’s most well-known wizarding families, and Oliver was a professional Quidditch player. They were both easily recognisable. Percy sighed deeply. This was not going to be easy. What were they going to do? They couldn’t stay here; his flat would be the first place the Ministry – and therefore the Death Eaters – would look. It’s a miracle no-one has broken down the door already, Percy thought.
He searched his brain for possible safehouses. We could go to Bill and Fleur’s, he thought. But I probably wouldn’t be welcome, as I refused their wedding invitation. And I’m not too keen on a shouting match with Fleur. So that was out. He sighed again. This was the one time he wished he hadn’t completely cocked up his relationship with his family. It would make everything so much easier.
Suddenly another idea occurred to him. His mother’s Christmas letter. She had implored him to visit. Maybe she would welcome them into their home now. Percy thought for a moment. Was he willing to go back on everything he had said and done – or, rather, not done – for Oliver? For a third time, Percy sighed. Why did things have to be so difficult? He would talk this through with Oliver in the morning, and see what he thought.
No sooner had Percy closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep than he heard a loud pounding at the front door. Both Oliver and Percy startled awake and looked at each other with abject terror in their eyes.
“Death Eaters,” whispered Oliver fearfully. “What are we going to do?”
Percy shook his head. He had no idea. His heart was pounding and he felt like he might suffocate. He cursed himself for not taking Oliver away immediately after they’d arrived. He had been so selfish; so single-minded. He just had to spend one more night with Oliver, and that was going to get them caught.
The pounding resumed. There was less than half a second’s pause, and then there was a sound of the door splintering, and heavy boots stomping through the hall.
I’m going to die in my pants, thought Oliver, his heart nearly jumping out of his throat. This is going to be my last moment on Earth, and I’m wearing old dingy pants. All he could do was pull Percy close; the footsteps were almost upon them, and his thoughts were too frantic to do anything else.
Seconds later, the bedroom door was forced open. Standing in front of them were three large Ministry thugs, two of whom were kitted out in full Death Eater regalia. The one wearing normal robes was Yaxley, the head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement. Percy shuddered involuntarily. He was almost as awful as Umbridge. We are well and truly fucked, he thought, and it’s all my fault. We just had to come here. We had to stay. I couldn’t find somewhere else; somewhere safer.
“I knew you was a poofter, Weasley, but the big Quidditch player?” sneered one of the Death Eaters. “I figgered he’d be gettin’ all the birds a bloke could want.” One of his companions snickered. Their boss cleared his throat loudly, and the two Death Eaters fell silent, chastened.
“Weasley,” drawled Yaxley lazily, taking stock of the bedroom and the two mostly-nude, terrified men sitting in front of him. The air was thick with fear. “Would you care to explain how a wanted criminal came to be in your flat?” He paused, his sunken eyes shooting daggers at Oliver and Percy. “Or how this wanted criminal just happened to disappear on the eve of his hearing?”
Percy was caught, and he knew it. He knew it had been bound to happen sooner or later, and he was about to confess when he heard Oliver’s voice.
“It was me,” Oliver heard himself saying. “I pressured him into passing information to me so I could pass it on to the Order of the Phoenix.” Oliver pulled away from Percy, who looked wounded.
What was he doing? He was signing his own death warrant. He tried to telegraph that to Oliver, to tell him silently to shut his mouth, but it didn’t seem to work. He heard Oliver take another breath and begin to speak once more.
“That’s right,” Oliver continued, feeling a bit more confident now, even though he probably shouldn’t. “I threatened to expose him to the Minister if he didn’t help me; who would want a gay Minister? That’s what you want, isn’t it, Percy? To be Minister?” Merlin, this was terrible. He wanted to throw himself off a cliff for even thinking of doing this.
The larger of the two Death Eaters laughed meanly. “Trouble in paradise, eh, boys?” he said rudely.
“Shut it,” commanded Yaxley, pointing his wand menacingly at his inferiors.
Oliver continued, trying to sound as acidic as possible. “I only used you, Percy; I used you to pass information to the Order. Your family knew about it, too. They knew I was fucking you, and that you loved it. That you loved me. I never loved you.” This was horrible. Oliver wanted to cry, but he had to soldier through. He had to be strong. Hurt him, Oliver thought. Hurt him to save him. There is no other way. He forcibly pulled his hand away from Percy’s and crossed his arms over his chest. He set his face in what he hoped was a combination of determination and resentment, but it felt more like desperation. Oliver had to bite the inside of his lower lip to force back tears. Don’t, he ordered himself. Don’t you dare cry. Let him – let them – think this is the truth. It will save him.
Percy felt like a dagger was being shoved right through his heart. His stomach was roiling and he felt like he might throw up. Why? he wondered, distraught. Why is he doing this? “But...” Percy sputtered, unable to find any words. “But...but...”
“But nothing,” Oliver shot back, hearing his voice break. “That’s the way it was. The way it is.” This time he looked towards the Death Eaters. “I used you and everything you told me. I only cared – I only care – about my own safety.” He threw the covers off and stood up, summoning his clothing and getting dressed quickly. He didn’t feel as brave as he was acting. His heart was racing and it felt like he might lose control of his bowels. He couldn’t look at Percy or he would give the game away.
The three Ministry employees were conferring amongst themselves. Neither Percy nor Oliver could hear what they were saying, but the glances they were getting were not reassuring. Percy pulled the sheet up to his chin and his knees to his chest, trying to make himself as small as he felt.
“So,” Yaxley said in a low voice, “we have two traitors here. Mr. Weasley, your crimes include passing information to a known criminal as well as associating with Undesirable Number 1 and his accomplices.” He paused and turned to face Oliver. “Mr. Wood, your crimes are more numerous and serious. You have evaded capture for six months, having disappeared before your hearing to discuss your lineage. You forced a Ministry employee to give you information – on what, we will soon find out – that you then passed on to a rebel organisation. You associated with said rebel organisation in an attempt to overthrow the Ministry. Do either of you deny your crimes?”
Oliver drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and reluctantly shook his head. He stole a glance at Percy, who appeared to have shrunk.
Percy nodded. “I have not associated with Undesirable Number 1 since spring of 1995,” he said, his voice quaking with a mixture of anger and fear. “When I was a student at Hogwarts.”
“That’s not good enough,” spat Yaxley. “Your family associates with him willingly; you are therefore automatically guilty by association.” His face darkened and he pulled his wand from his robes, pointing it at Oliver, who was now standing, fully-clothed, beside Percy’s bed. Yaxley muttered an incantation and suddenly Oliver’s hands were bound. “Simmons, lead Wood to detention.” The Death Eater he had spoken to grabbed Oliver’s arms roughly and Disapparated.
“Mr. Weasley,” said Yaxley. “The Minister has always spoken very highly of you. I’m certain he will be very disappointed to find out that you have been feeding information to a wanted criminal.” He paused. “Especially since that information was going to the Order of the Phoenix.” A cruel grin started to spread across his face. “You will be punished especially severely. Unless, of course, you’re willing to talk.”
If he was willing to talk? Was he willing to turn on Oliver, like Oliver had just done to him? Percy couldn’t do that, no matter how many pieces his heart was in. He still loved Oliver, and he suspected that some part of him always would. Percy shook his head, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would say something he might regret. His self-control was not at its finest. He found himself picking at a hangnail on his left ring finger; apparently he had been doing that for several minutes, as his finger was now quite bloody. “No,” Percy said, only trusting himself with a single syllable.
“Very well,” replied Yaxley, binding Percy’s hands as well, not allowing him to dress before grabbing his bloodied left hand and Disapparating.
***
Oliver was left in a dank cell. It smelled of cellar, but not the kind of cellar he had played in on rainy days as a child. This was the kind of cellar that was covered in mould; the kind of cellar that was papered with spiderwebs; the kind of cellar that had rats lurking in every corner. The floors were cold and damp. He shivered. He deserved this, he thought, for doing what he had just done. He felt like shit. He couldn’t imagine how Percy must feel, and he truly didn’t want to. Just seeing Percy’s face when he had said that he had never loved him...that had broken Oliver’s heart.
But it was all for the best, right? he tried to reassure himself. Percy was safe...or will be safer than I am. No matter how many times he told himself that, he still felt terrible. He saw Percy’s heart breaking over and over, saw the excruciating pain in his face, and his stomach twisted itself into knots. He deserved whatever the Death Eaters portioned out, just for what he had done to Percy, he thought, tears beginning to spill from his exhausted eyes.
***
Percy arrived in Yaxley’s office in only his pants. He was mortified. He saw Yaxley sneering at him and he glared back, putting on a show of much more confidence than he felt. “Haven’t you got an extra set of robes anywhere?” Percy said, staring Yaxley down. “Or must I retrieve some from my office?” He knew Yaxley wouldn’t back down, but perhaps if he acted confident – or at least unafraid – it would be better for him.
“Only if you talk,” Yaxley said sharply.
“Then I suppose I’ll be sitting here in my pants until the Minister arrives,” Percy shot back. “If he really thinks as highly of me as you’ve said, he’ll be very upset that I wasn’t given robes.” Perhaps that will work, he thought, threatening him with ministerial retribution.
Yaxley looked chastened but made no move to retrieve extra clothing. “So be it,” he replied. “A traitor doesn’t deserve special treatment.” He sat down at his desk and began writing. Percy craned his neck in order to try to read what he was writing, but was unsuccessful.
Percy sat on the only other chair in the cavernous office: an overstuffed armchair near a laughably large fireplace. Looking around the office, he saw the portraits whispering to one another, and he flushed a deep crimson. This was not the way he had expected to spend his night. Granted, he hadn’t expected to have to rescue Oliver, either, but …
Thinking about Oliver made Percy ill. How could he have been so cruel? How could he have misled Percy so effortlessly? Why would he have done something so heartless? There was a sickening, twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had just – only a few hours prior – been reunited with Oliver, and then this had been sprung on him. Percy’s mind was reeling and his chest was tight. The pain wasn’t sharp; it wasn’t dull; it just was. It was a constant ache. There was an Oliver-shaped hole in his heart...but how could there be, if Oliver had never loved him? He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.
His heart. It was broken beyond repair. Oliver had taken care of that, Percy thought bitterly. He had been so reckless, so careless with Percy’s emotions. Percy had trusted him, and Oliver had betrayed that trust.
I just don’t understand, he thought. He mentally replayed what he had imagined to be the most intimate, the most romantic connections between them: when Oliver had called Percy his boyfriend to his teammates; when Oliver had first said he loved him; when they had made up before Oliver had left. Once again he found himself wishing he had never run into Oliver in that filthy Muggle pub. It had only led to pain and heartache, and now to his probable death. Death would be preferable, Percy thought, to the pain he felt right now. He had been so happy once he had been reunited with Oliver, and for Oliver to take that away from him; to say it had all been a lie...he would rather not go on living.
The door opened and the Minister strode in, looking at Percy as he did so. “Weasley!” he barked. “Why in Merlin’s name are you only in your pants?”
“Ask your deputy,” Percy answered crossly.
“Yaxley?” Thicknesse said.
“Traitors aren’t allowed special privileges,” Yaxley answered, repeating the statement he had given Percy moments before. “We found him in his pants, and we brought him in in his pants.” He looked inordinately pleased with himself, as if he was expecting a pat on the back.
“You prat!” thundered Thicknesse. “This is my assistant! Get him some clothing!”
Deflated, Yaxley left his office in search of extra robes. Percy felt a small sense of pride at the tiny victory, but it soon vanished once the Minister took Yaxley’s chair and stared him down.
“Is there any truth to these rumours, Weasley?”
Percy pursed his lips. There was no point in lying. He would be found out one way or another; either Yaxley would inform on him or he would be given Veritaserum. “Yes, sir,” he admitted, looking at his feet. “Yaxley has mostly told you the truth. However, I haven’t seen – or associated with – Undesirable Number 1 in years.” He didn’t have to explain; it was well-known throughout the Ministry that he no longer spoke to his family.
“That is truly disappointing, Weasley,” replied Thicknesse, sounding almost genuinely sorry. “I had expected better of you. You could have gone on to great things.” He paused. “But I am willing to lessen your sentence if you can give me information.” Another pause, this one longer. “Not only on the criminal Wood, but on several other key members of the Order of the Phoenix, who are all connected to your family in some way or another.” Percy started to protest, and the Minister cut him off. “I am fully aware, Weasley, that you do not speak to your family. That can be used to your – to our – advantage. Assuming you want it to be.”
Percy thought for a moment. Should he betray Oliver, the way he himself had been betrayed? His family? Whoever was involved in this Order of the Phoenix that Oliver seemed to know so much about? Anger surged through his veins, temporarily blinding him to reason. He heard himself saying “Yes” to the Minister, agreeing to pass information on unknown witches and wizards; agreeing to incriminate Oliver; agreeing to who knew what else. By the time Yaxley had returned with spare robes, Percy wasn’t exactly sure what he had agreed to, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. It paired unpleasantly with the tightness in his chest.
“Weasley,” Thicknesse said, “you will not be allowed to return home.” He didn’t look apologetic. “Instead, we’ll be keeping you under lock and key in your office. You’re unable to Apparate; the Floo network has been disconnected; you will only be allowed to send approved owls, the details of which will be discussed in the morning.” He looked at Yaxley, whose pleased expression had turned to one of disgust. “Yaxley, return Weasley to his office. Inform him of the consequences of breaking our agreement. Weasley, I will speak with you first thing in the morning, and you will be prepared.”
Percy nodded unhappily. He kept his gaze trained at the floor, preferring not to look at either the Minister or Yaxley as he exited the office. He already hated himself for agreeing to do this. It was only going to get worse.
- 16
- 17
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The Weight of Living