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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
- 21
- 22
- 23
Author Note: I lifted several passages directly from Deathly Hallows in this chapter; I felt they were necessary.
***
In the centre of the Great Hall were Snape and Harry Potter, face to face.
Percy gasped. Harry Potter! The one person the Ministry couldn’t find, and he was standing mere feet in front of them. Percy felt a strange sense of duty, like he ought to arrest Potter, but he also wanted to see the scene play out. He remembered the terrible animosity between Harry and Snape; it had likely only got worse over the past several years.
Oliver squeezed through the crack in the door. There were enough students in the room that no-one noticed his presence, so he motioned for Percy to join him. When Percy came into the room, he saw, scattered throughout the Great Hall, all of his younger siblings. Fred and George were cocooned among the Gryffindors. Ron was standing with Hermione, behind Harry. Ginny was at the back of the room, with that strange blonde girl they had met earlier; Neville Longbottom; and Finnegan – Percy had forgot his first name. He caught his sister’s eye. She glared. McGonagall was right: she was a bit worse for wear, but on the whole, she was alright. He sighed. What would it take for her – and the rest of his family – to forgive him?
Sparks flew in front of them. Now was not the time to contemplate family relationships; clearly there was about to be a duel. Percy didn’t like Harry’s chances; Snape was a teacher and had been a Death Eater. Was he still? Percy wondered, looking from Harry to Snape and back again. Percy’s heart was pounding. He was terrified. He didn’t want to watch Harry die.
Neither, it seemed, did McGonagall, who stepped in front of Harry to duel Snape. Snape’s anger deepened and he shot spell after spell at McGonagall, who deflected and returned them deftly.
“Severus!” called a raspy voice. Percy looked for the source and saw a chubby, sallow woman whose face was marred by scars. “Severus, the Dark Lord awaits! We have no more time to waste on this pathetic child!”
Snape glared at the large woman but stepped away from Harry, towards the exit. He gestured to another pale, round man with pockmarked cheeks, seemingly indicating that he should follow, which he did, as did the sallow woman. Percy looked over at Oliver, who looked horrified.
“I never imagined it could have got this bad,” Oliver murmured. “This is way worse than I’d expected.” Percy nodded solemnly. He was frightened. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d had to rescue Oliver from his cell. This, however, had further-reaching implications. If You-Know-Who succeeded… Percy shuddered. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if that occurred.
“Students,” McGonagall began, surveying the large crowd. “Students, you are to follow the instructions of your Head of House.”
Just then, there was a loud clap, almost like thunder, and a booming, cold voice filled the Great Hall.
“I know that you are preparing to fight.” A chill ran down Oliver’s spine. It felt like the voice was coming from inside his head. “Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood.”
Bullshit, thought Oliver with terrified disdain.
“Give me Harry Potter,” the voice continued, “and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded.”
A pause.
“You have until midnight.”
A Slytherin girl Oliver didn’t recognise stood up and pointed at Harry. “But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!”
Before anyone could speak, there was a massive movement. The Gryffindors had risen and stood facing not Harry but the Slytherins. Then the Hufflepuffs stood, and almost at the same moment, the Ravenclaws, all of them with their backs to Harry, all of them looking toward the Slytherin girl instead.
“Thank you, Miss Parkinson,” said McGonagall in a clipped voice. “You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow.”
Oliver caught Percy’s eye and grinned. Finally, the Slytherins getting their comeuppance.
“Mr Wood!” McGonagall said sharply. “You take the Quidditch team. You will lead the aerial assault.” Oliver nodded and surreptitiously squeezed Percy’s hand.
“See you soon,” Percy whispered, returning the gesture as Oliver walked away purposefully.
Moments later Percy found himself surrounded by his siblings. Here it comes, he thought miserably.
“What are you doing here?” Ginny asked angrily. “Shouldn’t you be supporting the Ministry?” She glared at him.
“I was wrong,” Percy admitted readily. It wasn’t as hard the second time. “I made a big mistake siding with the Ministry over my own family.” He searched his siblings’ faces for any change in emotion. He thought he saw a flicker of forgiveness in Ron’s face, so he plowed ahead. “If you want to know, I’ve been defying the Ministry for nearly a year, forging family trees for Muggle-borns and half-bloods.” He paused, noticing a change in all of his siblings’ demeanours. Their gazes had softened, and George’s jaw had dropped. “Yes,” he affirmed, “I broke the rules.” He grinned. “Honestly, after the first hearings, I knew what they were doing was wrong and I had to stop it any way I could. I was too ashamed to come home.”

It was Fred who spoke first. “Glad to have you back, Head Boy,” he said with a grin. George echoed the sentiment, and Ron and Ginny nodded.
Percy felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He had expected to be crucified by his siblings. And perhaps it was what he deserved. But he was thankful for their forgiveness, and he wouldn’t take it for granted.
“Thank you,” Percy said gratefully. He felt awkward. What was he meant to do now? Fortunately, the twins seemed to have a purpose, as they always did. He followed his siblings to an entryway, where they were met by the rest of their family. When Molly Weasley saw Percy, she nearly fainted from a combination of joy and shock. “Percy!” she exclaimed gleefully, reaching out and pulling him into a hug so tight, Percy could swear he heard several ribs crack.
“Mum,” Percy protested weakly, “I can’t breathe!”
She ignored him, saying, “It’s so good to see you, dear,” finally releasing him as he gasped for air theatrically. Percy coughed violently and saw his brothers laugh. He shot them a nasty look and they only laughed harder.
“Mum,” Percy said again, “I’m sorry. I was an arse. I - “ At that moment, a cavalcade of spells came flying toward them. Percy glanced up and saw the Minister for Magic, Pius Thicknesse, flanked by his deputies Rookwood and Yaxley.
“Duck!” Arthur shouted, shooting a shield charm in front of the family.
“Molly, you take Ginny upstairs!” Arthur hissed, ignoring Ginny’s whispered protests. “I’ll stay down here with the boys.” Ron had already disappeared, as had Hermione. Molly and Ginny ran after Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had shot some type of curse at Yaxley and sent him flying backwards. Fire flashed in Thicknesse’s eyes and he charged forward, wand raised.
“Minister!” Percy called, finding strength he didn’t know he had. “So very good to see you!” Where this sudden burst of confidence was coming from, he didn’t know. He shot a spell at the minister, who volleyed it right back to him. “Did I mention I’m resigning?”
He heard Fred roar with laughter, and suddenly the sound was cut short. Percy whipped his head around and saw Fred fall to the ground like a rag doll. Furious, with a murderous rage, Percy sent a killing curse at Rookwood. He didn’t care that he could be penalised for it. It was his fault that Fred was dead. He had distracted Fred.
Then he turned his attention to the Minister. “Crucio!” Percy shouted. He took dark pleasure in the curse. It frightened him how much he enjoyed it. “Avada Kedavra!” The Minister collapsed in a pile next to Rookwood, and Percy’s spell was broken. He turned and saw George crumpled over his twin’s body, and he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t watch George’s grief unfold. He couldn’t share his own grief. He had to release it privately. He left the entry hall and ducked into a destroyed classroom. Here Percy saw several more bodies on the floor. They all looked much too young to be Death Eaters – he assumed they had been students.
Percy slid down the wall and rested his head in his hands. Fred was dead. Fred. His brother. George’s twin. And he was responsible. If he hadn’t made Fred laugh, Fred would still be alive. Percy closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn’t do anything right. He couldn’t maintain a relationship with his family, he couldn’t maintain a proper romantic relationship, and now he couldn’t even keep his family members alive. He hated himself. He hated his pride, his arrogance, his inflated ego. He hated everything about himself.
“It should have been me,” he muttered. “It should have been me.” He took in a ragged breath. “I don’t deserve to be alive.” Tears were rolling down his cheeks now, but he didn’t notice. He had abandoned his family – in favour of the Death-Eater-supporting Ministry – and look what it had got him. A dead brother. A broken family. He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t face his family. Especially not George. He couldn’t deal with their disappointment, anger, consternation… He didn’t think anyone would understand him. Not even Oliver. He sighed and, for the first time, noticed the tears on his face. He sniffled and wiped them away.
***
Oliver first noticed Percy was missing when he saw the Weasleys huddled together. He scanned the cluster of gingers and didn’t see the familiar curls.
Where could he have gone? Oliver wondered. He didn’t have much time to think about it, thought, as the high-pitched voice rang through the room once again.
“You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.”
Pause.
“Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.”
Oliver’s gaze returned to the Weasleys. Injured? He hoped so.
“I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”
Oliver shivered. He needed to find Percy. He needed to know Percy was okay.
***
Percy curled up in a ball, knees to his chest, and closed his eyes. If he squeezed them tightly enough, maybe he could forget it ever happened. Maybe he could reverse time and make it so Fred was still alive and he was dead instead. He heard a door creak behind him and he fought the instinct to turn around. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.
“Perce?”
Oliver. Percy didn’t answer. He felt his heart in his throat. He didn’t know if he was elated that Oliver had made the effort to find him in the ruins of the castle or annoyed that he had to talk to someone.
Oliver tried again, this time approaching his boyfriend. “Perce?” he asked tentatively. Something must really be wrong for Percy to be completely ignoring him. He placed his hand on Percy’s shoulder. Percy winced. Oliver frowned. This was very unlike Percy.
“What’s wrong, love?” Oliver asked gently, taking a seat on the floor beside Percy. He put his arm around Percy’s shoulders and pulled Percy close. He felt Percy rest his head on his chest, and soon Oliver’s jumper was wet with tears. Oliver didn’t know what to do. He never knew how to react when people cried. He had never been much of a crier. So he held Percy tightly, rubbed his back, and let him cry. If he wants to talk, Oliver reasoned, he’ll say something.
Presently Percy spoke. In a shaky, shuddering voice, he said, “It should have been me.”
Oliver furrowed his brow, confused. “What are you talking about?”
How could Oliver not know what Percy had done? Percy was flummoxed.
“Fred...” Percy began, and then broke down again.
So that’s why the Weasleys were in a huddle, Oliver thought grimly. In the back of his mind, he had known their side would suffer losses, but it hadn’t really registered. He had, of course, heard about the losses in the First Wizarding War, but… But what? he scolded himself. But nothing! No-one is invincible! Of course people were going to die! It just happened to be...well...Fred Weasley. Along with, I’m sure, hundreds of others. He frowned. How would they – the wizarding world – and he and Percy – recover from this?
“No,” said Oliver decisively.
“No what?” Percy asked weakly, looking up at Oliver, cheeks stained with tears.
“No, it shouldn’t have been you,” Oliver clarified. “If it hadn’t been Fred - “ Percy grimaced “ - it would have been somebody else.” Oliver saw a burst of rage in Percy’s eyes and he hurried to explain. “What I mean is,” he continued, “the Death Eaters are hell-bent on killing people. And they don’t care who they kill or how they do it.” He paused, hoping he was getting through to Percy. “I didn’t mean to minimise Fred’s death, not at all. I just wanted to try and explain that the Death Eaters would probably kill their own parents if You-Know-Who told them to.” He frowned. But it wasn’t fair. Despite his mischievous ways, Fred Weasley had been one of the kindest, most thoughtful people Oliver had ever known. Why couldn’t it have been someone else? Snape? Or any number of Slytherins?
Percy nodded mutely. This made sense, but emotion was overcoming logic.
“Tell me what happened,” Oliver coaxed gently, lightly rubbing Percy’s shoulder.
So Percy recounted the horrific story. He felt it made him look like an awful brother, son, human being. He couldn’t see his way through to reconciling with his family now. And why would they want to, anyway?, he thought miserably. It’s all my fault.
“I distracted Fred,” Percy finished, “and that’s how Rookwood got him. If I hadn’t said anything...” He looked into the distance, letting his sentence trail into nothingness.
“You can’t blame yourself, Perce,” Oliver said firmly. “Knowing – having known – Fred, I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to.” He pulled Percy closer. “You should – we should – be with your family right now. They need you, and you need them.” Desperately, Oliver thought, looking sadly at Percy’s shaking shoulders. “Come on.” He pulled a reluctant Percy to a standing position and, once again with his arm around Percy’s shoulders, led Percy back to the Great Hall, where they had been laying out the dead bodies.
Once they entered, they headed for the gaggle of gingers near the back. Percy shrunk against Oliver, terrified.
It was Molly who noticed them first. Understanding dawned on her face. That was why Percy couldn’t keep a girlfriend. That was why he spent so much time away from the family – he thought they would disapprove. Well, Molly thought, now was hardly the time to be judging her child’s lifestyle. One of her sons was dead, for Merlin’s sake – if Percy wanted to return to the fold, she would welcome him with open arms.
“Mum...” Percy started tentatively, almost expecting her to lash out at him, to blame him, to banish him to a far corner of the globe. Instead, she held her arms out. Aghast, Percy hesitated.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Percy!” Oliver said, exasperated. He pushed his boyfriend into Molly’s waiting arms. Percy stumbled but didn’t fall.
“Oh, Percy,” Molly said, her voice breaking. She held her middle son tightly. He had always closed himself off, pretended he didn’t need anyone. Molly had always thought differently. He was delicate and easily disappointed. He worked hard because he expected a lot of himself as well as others. He was her serious son, her quiet one. The one she could always count on. Until the falling-out.
Then things had been tense. Painful. She had missed her reliable boy. She wished that it hadn’t taken the death of his brother to bring him back, but Percy was hard-headed, like his father. He wouldn’t apologise if he thought he was right.
“Oh, Percy,” she said again, at a rare loss for words. She hugged her wisp of a son tightly. He’s too thin, she thought briefly. I need to fatten him up.
Percy collapsed into his mother’s arms. He had forgotten how comforting she could be. “I’m...” he sniffled.
“I know,” Molly said soothingly, rubbing his back gently. “It’s not your fault.” Deep in her heart of hearts, though, she thought she was lying to him.
But it is, Percy thought. You weren’t there. He didn’t verbally contradict her.
Oliver stood awkwardly by, on the outskirts of a raw, painful Weasley family moment, not sure where (or if) he belonged. He looked at Percy, enveloped in his mother’s arms. He turned his attention to the family huddle, his heart breaking again at the sight of five sets of shaking shoulders. He couldn’t imagine George’s pain. He didn’t want to. Instead, he looked at the ground. He kicked a piece of rubble with his toe and it bounced across the floor. He ground his left toe into the floor.
Oliver was impatient. He knew it was inconsiderate – the Weasleys had just lost a family member, after all – but what was he, an interloper, supposed to do?
He tapped a still-sobbing Percy on the shoulder.
“Love,” Oliver said quietly, so only Percy could hear, “I’m going to see if anyone else needs help.” Percy nodded. “If you need me...” Oliver pulled out the button that had saved his life. He hoped Percy had his too.
Percy nodded. Smiled. Pulled out his button. “Be safe.”
Oliver nodded. He hated to leave Percy when he was so vulnerable, but he would be safe with his family.
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The Weight of Living