Leavin's Not the Only Way to Go
a Harry Potter story
by midnight_angel_girl
Did the morning come to early? Was the night not long enough? Does a tear of hesitation fall on everything you touch? Well, it might be just a lesson for the hasty heart to learn: maybe leavin's n't the only way to go.
Percy Weasley unlocked the door of his small flat and pushed it open. He went in and set his carrier bags on the kitchen counter. Deciding against removing his warm wool jacket until it had warmed up, he went and turned the heat on. It had been a long day, following a rough night. Upon waking, he had discovered why he had slept so restlessly: he had a cold, his first since breaking ties with his family, and it was getting worse as the day went on. Rubbing his hands together briskly to warm them, he put the kettle on for tea.
"Huhshoo, uh-hushoo, uhshoo." He sneezed freely, digging through one of the bags for a box of tissues. Opening a fresh box, he blew his nose strongly. As the kettle boiled, he took out his container of chicken soup. Placing a tea bag in a mug, he poured the boiling water over it and poured a glass of orange juice, then sat at the kitchen counter. Take out soup was never as good as homemade, he mused. He really missed his mother right now. He remembered how Molly would tuck him in to bed, making sure he was warm enough, how she'd bring him homemade chicken dumpling soup and orange juice, tea and tissues, sometimes cocoa, and if his throat was bothering him, strawberry ice cream. He remembered how she'd bring him special potions to ease his congestion and headache, to control his coughs and sneezes, to reduce his fever since he reacted badly to pepper-up. He remembered how her cool hands felt on his fevered cheeks, how she's flip and fluff his pillows for him when they got too hot. And she always seemed to know when he needed her. The words to a lullaby she used to sing came back to him, one he hadn't heard in years.
Goodnight, my mouse
Time to sleep, safe in my arms
Near to my heart
Dear to my heart
Close your eyes and curl up tight
The sun's in bed, and the moon is bright
Sleep, my child, safe in my arms
Near to my heart
Dear to my heart
I love you, my mouse"Huckshoo, Hugshoo. " The sneezing startled him out of his recollections and was followed by several chesty coughs. He took a sip of tea and looked for the bag from the chemist. He'd gone to one near Diagon Alley, one that was staffed primarily by witches and wizards, as well as a few squibs. He already went to that one when he needed to refill his inhalator since the wizarding world didn't have much of a treatment for asthma. The salesgirl had been most helpful, giving him the refill for his inhalator and helping him find muggle cold remedies that would help him since he no longer had access to his mother's special potions.
"Ehshoo, huh-eddshoo. " Realizing that if he didn't blow his nose, he was going to keep sneezing, he took the tissues and temporarily cleared out his nose. After reading the back of the box of cold pills, he took two of the gel filled capsules and swallowed them with the last of his tea.
Shivering, he went into his bedroom and chose his warmest pajamas. Taking the two new pillows he had purchased out of the carrier bag, he slipped pillowcases over them and laid an extra quilt on his bed.
"Huhshoo, hayuhshoo. " Sniffling, he went back to the kitchen for the tissues. Placing them and a glass of water on the bedside table, he went and brushed his teeth before crawling into bed.
Maybe lay and let your feelings grow accustomed to the dark, and by morning's light you might just solve the problems of the heart. And it might be just a lesson for the hasty heart to know. Maybe leavin's not the only way to go.
Wrapping the covers around him, he thought back on other colds. He remembered sharing a room with Oliver for seven years, how Oliver would see him sniffling and chuck a box of tissues at him - "Stop that sniffling. You're driving me batty." Oliver would take his books away and make him rest. "Homework will still be there in the morning; get some rest," he always said. Percy had been so embarrassed the first time he'd had to sneeze in front of Oliver, despite the fact that upon waking, Oliver always sneezed three times like clockwork. And the first time he'd had an asthma attack at Hogwarts, Oliver had been scared, but stayed calm, and then stuck to his side like a mother hen for the next three days, listening for the slightest wheeze in Percy's breathing until Percy convinced him he was fine. Oliver took care of Percy at Hogwarts and for a time after. He loved Oliver, he really did, but he couldn't be as open about his homosexuality as Oliver wanted, and he had lost him, too.
People reach new understandings all the time. They take a second look, maybe change their minds. People reach new understandings every day; tell me not to reach, I'll just go away. Did the morning come to early? Was the night not long enough? Does a tear of hesitation fall on everything you touch? Well, it might be just a lesson for the hasty heart to know. Maybe leavin's not the only way to go.
"Hetchoo, heyetchoo ." The sneezes were getting harsher, and he felt weightiness on his chest. Glad he bought the two extra pillows, he slipped them under his head. He'd be sleeping in a semi-upright position, but by now, he was used to it. It did help relieve the pressure on his chest, help him breath better and cough less.
"Huchoo, huhkutchoo, kuhschoo." He took a drink of water, hoping the pills would kick in soon. He snuggled into the covers and pillows, closing his eyes.
He remembered before Hogwarts. He had shared a room with Bill, since Charlie was allergic to pepper-up as well, and with Percy's asthma, Molly and Arthur wanted someone who could handle an attack. Actually, Molly had wanted him to sleep in her and Arthur's room, but Arthur's convincing as well as his constant meddling with Percy's inhalator changed her mind.
Bill always took care of him, even during his first two years at Hogwarts. Even though Bill was prefect and then Head Boy, if Percy was sick, he could always go to Bill. Growing up, Bill always helped him when he was sick, especially at night when Molly was sleeping. Bill would make sure he had water and tissues and tell him bedtime stories about famous wizards, like Merlin and Uric the Oddball. Bill would rub his back when he was coughing, and only Bill could somehow manage to convince both the twins and the ghoul to be quiet so Percy could get some sleep. He remembered waking up at night with attacks, and Bill was always right there, inhalator ready, prepared to get Arthur or Molly if need be. Bill was always ready with tissues, even covering Percy's nose when he sneezed or blowing it for him, holding them over his mouth when he'd get bronchitis so Percy could spit the gunk out of his lungs. Bill wouldn't even be upset if Percy sneezed on him or repulsed by his phlegm and snot. He remembered how he was able to wake Bill easily if he needed him, and Bill never minded and was always instantly awake and at Percy's side. Or how he'd wake up, nice and warm, and look over to Bill's bed to see him covered by a thin sheet because he wanted to make sure Percy was warm enough. And how when the colds would settle in his chest and lungs and interfere with the asthma, he'd find Bill's pillows slipped underneath his head and back so he could breath easier, and Bill would be using clothes or robes and his arms as a pillow.
"Hetchushooo." His nose was getting less tickly now so, hopefully, he'd be able to sleep soon. Maybe he could stop remembering; he'd never felt lonelier than he did right now. Part of him wanted to call Bill, but he knew Bill was furious over what he'd done. Before, Bill was always there when he was sick, even though it meant he'd have to be dosed with pepper-up, Bill would always care for him, read to him, play games with him so he wouldn't be bored. And he'd taken it all for granted.
And a heart without a home is such a lonely row to hoe. Maybe leavin's not the only way to go.
He missed his family, more than anything right now. Maybe they were right, and maybe they weren't, but he'd made his choice. And he couldn't admit he was wrong, at least wrong in the way he'd treated them. He was just too stubborn.
"Huhshoo, uh-ishoo." Sneezing again, he began to drift off into sleep. Maybe it was because he missed his family and friends or maybe because he was sick and tired and lonely, and Percy would deny it if anybody knew, but he fell asleep that night with tears in his eyes.
No own, no sue
Weekly Hatching #36