Work Text:
Sunlight flooded the room with a golden ray of warmth, brushing his features with light touches as he opened his eyes. The mattress of his bed felt comfortable whilst he remained laying down on his back, his gaze wandering to the open window. Sounds of laughter and chaos echoed into his room from downstairs where the rest of his family was.
Despite the fact Percy often preferred solitary, in that moment he had rather longed to be with family, to be distracted from that one recurring thought. But now, in the silence of his room, he came face to face with regret.
His old sketchbook was still on his desk, a thin layer of dust concealing the front cover. It had been months since he flipped through the pages and sketched something. His hand twitched, remembering the feel of his pencil, a physical extension of his soul. He missed the days he would drift into a state of pure bliss, bringing the images from his imagination to life on paper.
Loud shrieks of laughter disturbed his train of thought and his curiosity persuaded him to sit up and look out the window into the backyard. Curious eyes tranced the distant figure soaring high into the sky on a broomstick, almost touching the clouds above. To their mother’s dismay, Ron and Fred were playing against George and Ginny in a match of quidditch, yelling and shouting with big grins on their faces. If he squinted he could see Charlie sitting on the ground, leaning against the great oak tree. Where was Bill? He didn’t give the question much thought and shrugged it off.
Percy never hated quidditch, he simply wasn’t as obsessed as others. He had other passions which died slowly as well as the life instead him, wilting and rotting into sorrow and then dispersing into melancholy. Flipping onto his side and bringing his knees in closer, he took a deep breathe to ground himself. His fingertips traced lines onto his thigh, feeling the healed scars through the fabric of his trousers.
Again, his eyes drifted to the sketchbook, longing to reconnect with the part of his soul he had lost when he had been forced to grow up. The laughter outside reminded him of when he was younger. Joy was something that became less of a emotion and more of a memory for him, replaced with sorrow and stress. Usually, his shoulders were heavy with expectations and responsibilities but alone in his room, he didn’t feel the pressure to be perfect for everyone else.
At some point in his dazed state, he got up and leaned over the edge to grab his sketchbook and a pen. He didn’t need an eraser to rub out his mistakes, he didn’t need it to be perfect, he just wanted to draw.
Crossing his legs, he carefully laid the book in his lap like it was a delicate artefact. His fingers were covered in dust and he wiped off the dust, opening the book to flip through the pages. For the first time in ages, he picked up his pen and sketched, a soft smile curling his lips.
-*
Bill leaned on the wall, crossing his arms as he grinned to himself. He continued to peer through the gap in the door to Percy's bedroom, seeing him sketch with a smile on his face. He headed downstairs and to the garden, feeling the cool breeze on his skin as he approached Charlie. Chuckling in amusement, he nudged a half-asleep Charlie with his foot.
"Get up sleepy-head."
"Oi, what the hell. can't a man sleep in peac-"
"Shut up and follow me. Got something to show you."
Charlie held a perplexed expression as Bill led him upstairs and gestured for him to be silent. They tiptoed up the wooden staircase, cringing at the occasional creaks to-
Percy's room?
He saw his little brother curled up on his bed, drawing with a peaceful expression. Surrounded by pages of sketches and his hands smudged with black ink. There was that crease between his eyebrows whenever he was concentrating on something and he had to stop himself from giggling in case Percy noticed them. They shared a look and both of them couldn't stop themselves grinning. Percy may be 16 but he was still their little brother. Bill nudged Charlie with a quiet chuckle.
"When have you seen him this happy before?"
Charlie struggled with the words and ended up laughing quietly behind his hand.
"Honestly? I don't know. Probably when he was much younger."
"Like when he was a kid?"
"Yeah when he was around Ginny's age, maybe younger."
The words they shared was laced with a sense of sorrow. Percy had been distant and always low in these recent years but more so in these past few months. What had happened to their joyful little brother? Arthur would joke that it was puberty but it was clear that it was much more then just that. Exhaustion formed dark eyebags, melancholy made him quieter than silence and more distant than the horizon. They watched in comfortable silence-
Two sets of hands grabbed Charlie, making him jump out of his skin but he stopped himself before he could yell, instead he resorted to whisper yelling at the twins who stood behind him with mischievous grins.
“Don’t you dare do that to me you two!“
“Sorry! Didn’t expect it to scare you that much.” George replied, biting back a grin. Fred who was carrying Ginny on his shoulders shook his head in amusement. Ron seemingly popped out of nowhere, tugging on Bill’s sleeve. He clearly didn’t read the room and said out aloud.
“Why are we standing outside Percy’s room?”
They all shushed him immediately.
“What, I’m just saying?”
George covered his mouth frantically. “Just- just shush!” He whispered to the boy who glared and looked as if he was going to bite him but George ignored him. “If you’re going to talk at least whisper!”
Ginny who currently felt like a queen perched upon Fred’s shoulder grinned to herself and decided that it was the perfect moment to snitch on her brothers. As the youngest, she was good at being loud. So she took a deep breathe and yelled.
“PERCE! THEY’RE SPYING ON YOU-“
This time, George went onto his tippy toes and clamped a hand over Ginny’s mouth whilst everyone else held startled expressions. Ron couldn’t help but laugh when Bill face-palmed himself.
“So much for whispering.” Fred spoke.
“Not like it matters. You guys are bad at whispering anyways.”
Ron practically jumped out his skin when the door opened behind him and Percy stepped out into the hallway. Percy couldn’t help but chuckle as he ruffled his hair, ignoring his annoyed expression.
There was awkward silence for an infinitesimal moment. Then they heard Arthur yell from the living room, calling them down for lunch. Fred almost dropped Ginny when he ran downstairs and George chased a screaming Ron, racing to their seats. Sighing, Charlie followed, making sure the little rascals didn’t hurt themselves, leaving Bill and Percy alone. The eldest Weasley spoke first.
“You never told me you liked art.”
He giggled at the embarrassed look on Percy’s face, who crossed his arms and blushed pink.
“Its just something I do in my free time.”
Bill couldn’t help but break the silence with loud laughter, resting an arm over Percy’s shoulder. He realized his mistake when he remembered Percy’s aversion to physical touch. He was ready to draw and apologize but paused when Percy smiled and chuckled, slightly melting into the touch.
“I’ll show you my sketches later. Let’s go downstairs before mum yells.”
Mum? Percy usually called Molly, Mother. Bill grinned and ruffled his hair as they went downstairs.
“’Mum?’ You going soft on us Perce?”
“As if. I absolutely hate you.” Percy replied with a playful tone.
“Sure you do.” Bill muttered to himself, glad to have his little brother back.