Chapt. 3- Get Drunk
FRIEGNED FORGIVNESS
Chpt. 3
“Percy, what the hell are you doing here!” The tone is full of a malice that I never thought could belong to a redhead.
I want to let the tears build up, eating my insides.
I want to let them know how much their words cut to the skin.
Hmm… no bar around here is there Percy?
Oh, SHUT IT!
I can feel their eyes on me. Boring into my soul trying to verify their beliefs and half- spoken truths about me.
Well, you are quite selfish… just like they told you.
I’ll kill myself. I swear if only to shut you up!
I know I should look into their identical faces and beg silently for forgiveness. However I Percival Ignatius Weasley will not. They are the ones who are the ones in the wrong. I am not.
You do realize that if you were drunk you would be begging most likely on the knees?
OK. That’s it I’m sick of you.
“Percy?” Either Fred or George (I could never really tell). I blink and look down into my brother’s face. Malice gone, perplexed look overthrowing the otherwise good- natured face.
I merely raise my eyebrow.
“You were talking to someone…” He continues slowly as though not to throw me into the insane asylum.
Dread fills my gut.
Percy Weasley gone insane… has a nice ring to it.
It’ll take only a moment to tie the noose.
I’ll be waiting.
It’s been a… I can’t even describe the word that would be appropriate.
The Terrible Twins as I dub them are unbelievable. I cannot say that I like the new attention I am receiving from them. I cannot say that I like the fact that they won’t tease me, instead they act as if I am some delicate porcelain doll that must be taking of.
Feigned forgiveness is the game.
Indeed. If this is really all only game.
Harry Potter won’t look at me. I know that he’s confused by last night. Perhaps even waking up to me beside him this morning… I wouldn’t know since he left for breakfast before I was willing to wake up to my hangover.
He jumps at every chance to get away from me. I guess that deep down I understand. I mean I probably brought him to his first orgasm by another person. Although I have to admit that I pleasantly enjoyed it.
“… get drunk, get drunk
for those truly drunk
are lucky
for paradise belongs to them..”
I love this poem and hum my own tune to it.
“Percy?” How strange that that is the first thing out of any person’s mouth to me. It could be symbolic.
Turning my head up I look up into a face I have learned to appreciate. The emerald green eyes glistening in the sun as though Time itself were gathering itself in there.
I smile. “Yes?”
I’m the type of person who doesn’t like to be interrupted in my reverie.
He shuffles and fidgets. I realize that everyone else is gone.
“Um… I…er…wanted to know what you… were thinking?” The blush forming itself on his high cheekbones gives it away that there is more to the question than he would voice.
I feel my smile warm itself up.
I say it while I’m looking at his lips. Knowing that it will unnerve him.
How right I am.
He goes red. Not the Weasley maroon red, but red enough for me to hear that stupid thing again.
He’s just a boy. One, who has now become your brother.
“Harry. I’ve been wondering… what do you think of being a Weasley?” I genuinely want to know.
“Uh… I like” I wait for him to clear his throat. “The fact that everyone wants to be around me. Wants to talk to me.” He says it rather quickly, as though talking fast will keep his concentration.
“Really? I’m glad.” I reach over and put my hand on his chin. Running my thumb over the perfect pale skin.
Strong chin. Strong bones.
He tenses at my touch the way that he did last night.
But doesn’t move away. Instead in his eyes I see the confusion and complicated feelings in the emeralds.
“Percy?” He pauses, his eyebrows coming together and his forehead producing lines that were invisible. “Why are you doing this? I mean its not like we’ve ever been much for friendship… and you told Ron not to be my friend,”
He sounds agitated at the last bit, not sad.
I lean down and closer. My breath is on his face, my brown eyes boring into his. Emerald Beauty. Heh, I like the sound of that.
“Hmm… I’m a very selfish person, Harry. I know that, you know that everyone in this wretched house knows that.” I swoop down, my lips on his. “Besides,” I murmur against his rose petal lips “I’m a drunk.”
As though that were all that needed to be said. As though that is what will explain my ignorance, my arrogance.
You’re a fool.
Ah, so I am.
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Order of the Phoenix! Why I must have been boggling at that piece of paper.
“Percy! Just because you were being a prat, doesn’t mean you can be one now.” I’m surprised to find that it is Bill who says this to me.
Pushing up my glasses, I say gaining my dignity, “Yes, well I’m glad you’ve told me-“
“I bet you are.”
I look over at Ron across the table. His freckled face darkened, his mutter meant for me to hear. Prompted by my look he continues.
“You’re probably wanting to join. You probably want to be right in the middle, gloating over us that you’re Perfect Percy, Future Minister for Magic-“
I cut him off, before Mother can turn red and scream until she’s hoarse.
“Ah, you forget my little brother.” I say this with particular scorn. “That I’m a Faggot as you so diligently called me, as well as a hopeless drunk. I hardly think I’ll be welcome to walk the corridors of the Ministry!” I can’t help the ice that hangs off over every one of my words.
He’s staring at me. Mouth open, but I no longer care.
Turning to Mother I declare loudly so there is no argument.
“I am. Leaving. Now.” I can’t help it my anger is coming back, and I need a drink. Its been 3 days and although Harry has been some help to get my mind off of it.
Chaste kisses and delicious emeralds will not sedate me any longer.
I’m out of the room, every shocked face emblazoned in my mind. Up the stairs I go. I tear up the room looking for my wand.
Then I remember.
It’s gone.
I destroyed it.
Why?
Sitting on the bed I survey the mess I’ve made. Harry’s stuff the only things not thrown around. Burrowing my face in my hands I answer that stupid thing.
I think I’ve gone mad.
Aye. So you have.
I know Harry is in the room. Yelling at Mother and everyone of those assholes to leave me the fuck alone, I know that it could only be him.
I know that he is watching me from the other side of the room. Leaning against my old desk, surveying me. Analyzing me.
Why shouldn’t he?
“Percy.” For not the first time in my life I wished that my name was something else. Something, that doesn't sound so filthy to my ears. Bringing my head up, I sigh.
“What.” I’m irritated. I won’t hide it.
Frowning, his eyes closed to me. “Don’t sound like that.”
“Sound like what?” Oh, so I sound grotesque do I?
I don’t like it when I cannot see his emotions.
“Like you used to.” Yeah…and I think I’m crazy.
He sighs, “Like I’m a bug that needs to be crushed.”
I can’t help the laugh that comes out of my mouth.
The stiffness of his back and venom of his eyes, allows my mouth to let out a couple of more chuckles.
“I still hate you.” His voice is serious. His eyes revealing the hate that he feels.
Hysterical laughter threatens to overtake me.
Hmm… still hates you?
He’s angry.
No. He’s just a boy, a boy who's seen more and has understood less.
Maybe it is the other way around.
He still hasn’t forgiven you.
So long, as those emerald eyes are for me.
…
Touching him is one of the only things that make my existence. He won’t let me touch his sensitive parts.
Only his neck and chest.
I want more than that.
“I thought you were leaving?” God, how could he not know what I want to do to him?
“I was.”
“Well…” His eyes are now open to me. Innocent curiosity. It makes me wonder why my parents let me sleep in here.
They probably don’t know that he sleeps in here. Ron won’t tell them.
“I won’t because ‘You still hate me’.”
“Hmm… you’re confusing.” Hands that are so rough, hair
so dry.
“So long as I make you mine.”
“Yours?” Chaste kisses with those softly bruised lips drive me made.
“You know what I mean.”
Yes, he does.
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