Part one

Black children have black parents, Jewish children have Jewish parents, but gays are orphans.

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Nothing can prepare you for what would happen. No words of encouragement, no hope, no real happiness, just the doubt that they speak towards each other, as they say it’s wrong. Say it shouldn’t be right, because it’s not possible for their son to be gay, of all things gay, and in love with another man. A man for their son. Something completely twisting away from society’s happy straight world, but that was what had happened.

That’s why he had left. Many thought it was because he had wanted to advance, and perhaps that had something to do with it, but it wasn’t the complete truth. He hadn’t bothered to tell them the complete truth about what had happened at school, or for what reason he felt he had to leave. All his family had to know was that if they felt he was no part of their family he had to live with the reminder? He had to live with the thought that he would never be able to visit on Christmas days because they didn’t want him around, or the fact that the only Christmas or Birthday presents he ever got were from his mother hoping he would understand their decision.

The funny thing was he never would. He would take one look at the sweater and be reminded as he threw it out, of how they had thrown him out in a heartbeat because of his choice. They would never know how he felt towards that one special person in his life. They would never know what it was like to see him truly smile because they never gave him the time to explain and to get use to the idea. They just didn’t want anything to do with him.

So was that why he found himself sitting infront of a small fire warming his cooling hands. Waiting for them to care enough to see what he was up to at work. See what he had been doing with his life and where he was now?

No longer working for the Ministry.

No longer living alone.

No longer as happy as he use to be.

They had taken ever inch of his happiness away from him with harsh letters, pleads for him to come back and throw out this absurd idea of being a homosexual. But it wasn’t an idea; it was a way of life. He had chosen to live his life this way and he was not going to change no matter what they said, or did.

No one could explain why he was feeling like his life had collapsed on him, but Percy Weasley didn’t feel like life was worth living anymore if he couldn’t have back what he had before. A hidden happiness, an excitement that came with hiding and hoping that his family would find out on their own and be all the more happy for him.

Looking down at his hands, which hadn’t touched a quill in over two months, he sighed. This was as far from real life as he could get. He needed something to pick him up. He needed the small reminder that he was given every day, before he decided what was to become of the invitation that lay on the table.

“What’s the matter?”

A blanket had been draped over his shoulders as Oliver sat beside him.
Lifting his hands once again towards the fire, Percy shifted. “Six years.”

“Six years?” Oliver asked curiously.

“Six years since they decided to cut me off from the family, and now they want me to come back for some sort of judgment, some sort of freak show spectacle.” The words sounded more bitter then he had intended to make them but it was how he was feeling at the moment, and nothing could prevent them from sounding harsh.

He knew Oliver was frowning at the statement but it was true. That’s how they had made him feel and he wasn’t going to admit any less.

After a few moments, Oliver shifted and wrapped his arms around Percy. “You can always give them a second try. It wasn’t easy for my parents to accept but they kept my secret.”

“A secret,” Percy muttered against his shoulder, “Is that what this is to you now, now that we’ve told them don’t you think we owe it to ourselves to let go of all this hiding.”

“Now you’re just being unfair,” Oliver said, running a hand through Percy’s hair. “After all we’re in this together and I plan on being there this time around. I’m not going to leave you to defend yourself against the twins.”

Percy closed his eyes and let himself find comfort in Oliver’s arms. “They’ll know. You could loose your job. Then where would we be?”

Oliver’s grip tightened on him. Percy knew how much Oliver loved his job playing professional Quidditch, but to admit that he was gay could ruin everything for him.

“Maybe, I just won’t go.” Percy added, hoping Oliver would say something.

“Then what would they think, they would think you were hiding something from them.”

Percy pulled away from Oliver and looked back towards the fire. “I am though. I’m hiding you and it’s killing me inside. I don’t want to hide something I’m so proud of.”

There was a slight chuckle from where Oliver was situated and Percy turned to give him a sharp glare. When the Scot noticed he immediately looked down at the floor, still smiling.

“What?”

“I just didn’t expect someone like you to be proud of me.” Oliver replied in a quiet voice.

“Of course I’m proud of you Oliver. I’m proud of everything about you. I’m proud of the way you never give up without a fight, I’m proud of the way you play Quidditch like it could be your last game. I’m proud of the way you act under pressure and how you always look out for me,” Percy moved back towards him, cupping both sides of Oliver’s face, “I’m proud of you for offering to come with me and I’m proud to love someone so wonderful.” He kissed Oliver’s forehead, brushing through the hair with his hands till he was hugging Oliver around the neck.

Oliver once again, wrapped his arms around Percy’s waist but instead of holding him, he shuffled about till he could lift the smaller man up and carry him back into their room.

No protests came from Percy, as he was carried and once again laid down on their bed with the blanket pulled up over his shivering form.

“Promise me that you’ll stay in bed for the rest of the night,” Oliver said with a tired look, “I came in here with hot soup for you, and you had disappeared.”

Percy looked away from him; grimacing at how dull the room appeared. “I can’t promise.”

Oliver leaned down towards him and kissed him quickly, “You can try. I don’t want you sick forever.”

“I’m perfectly fine Oliver,” Percy protested as he attempted to sit up but was stopped.

“You’re far from fine Percy, just try to get some rest.” Oliver said, standing up and walking towards the bookcase, which he had set the soup on. Testing it with his finger he sighed, “It’s cold now.” Picking up the tray, he walked out the room and closed the door behind himself.

---

Looking up at the room Percy groaned, his head was hurting but he never wanted to move from this spot in the bed for the rest of his life. It would become his permanent home from now on. In the bed, with his head propped up to see that awful picture of Oliver and the twins laughing.

He had always been envious of that one but would never admit it to Oliver; he didn’t want to take away the ‘good-old-days’ from the other mans life. Instead Percy turned his head to look away from it as quickly as he could. Oliver would be back soon with soup and it was sure to feel good on Percy’s throat.

“They can’t tell me what to do. Whom to love.” He muttered to himself closing his eyes tightly to block out the though of his brothers. “They can’t tell me I’m wrong for loving Oliver, they just can’t. I’m Percy; I’m perfect Percy, always following the rules. I couldn’t have broken a rule, could I?”

Rolling around in the bed, Percy tried to find a comfortable spot to sleep in, but nothing seemed to calm his racing mind and he was starting to be annoyed with the feeling off wool against his skin; blasted blankets.

Kicking them off, he looked at the white roof above the bed. Something had to get his mind off of his family. Maybe if he thought about what he would do when he got better, things would just gradually turn away from the former topic.

“I brought you some warm chicken soup.” Oliver said re-entering the room. He had managed to prop open the door with his leg and pushed against it with his back leaving his hands free to hold the tray.

Percy’s chin touched his chest, as he looked towards Oliver for a moment, then he let his head fall back into its previous position.

“A little more enthusiasm would be nice. I’m trying here Perce. I’ve truthfully never cooked that much.”

Percy lifted a hand and twirled it around as if to signify a ‘whoopee’.

Sighing, Oliver walked further into the room and sat down on the bed beside Percy. He set the tray down over the night table, on top of numerous books Percy had decided he was once again in the mood to read.

Then resting his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.

He sat like this for several minutes, before running his hands through his hair and resting his chin atop of them.

“What’s happened to us Percy?”

Percy didn’t reply, instead he continued to stare up at the roof, eyeing a spot that was particularly interesting to him.

“We use to have the ability to not care what everyone else thought. We use to kiss everywhere and anywhere,” he took a few deep breaths, hoping that Percy would at least signal that he was listening. “Now it’s different. Everyone is looking at us when we hold hands like it’s some sort of sin and not an adolescent challenge we’re overcoming. Look at you, you get sick whenever you see your family and I’m with you. I see it when your face pales, and you hide behind my back, hoping that they don’t see.”

Percy still said nothing.

“Damn it, Perce. Are you even listening to me?” Oliver said, turning to look at him.

“Sometimes we have to loose things.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, as Percy’s face turned towards him and Percy lifted a hand to touch Oliver’s face lightly.

“What are you talking about Perce?”

“Loose them in order to find out how important they really were to us.”

“What are you trying to say?” Oliver questioned, hoping Percy would share his thoughts.

But the redhead merely snuggled back against the pillows and blankets he lay on. “I love you, you know that.” He muttered closing his eyes.

Oliver watched the man’s hand fall away from his face as he curled up and attempted to fall asleep. He was silent for nearly an hour watching Percy; there were no words to say that would explain how he was feeling, no words to explain what he felt he had to do. Reaching down he pulled the pale grey sheets and a large patched quilt over Percy.

“I suppose you don’t want your soup,” he mused, kissing Percy’s forehead. “That’s alright. Sleep would be better for you right now.”

A/N: I apoligize in advance for anyone uncomfortable with this fic. I myself haven't gone through such a thing and am only using information from certain sites to obtain the illness' which Percy has. If you are uncomfortable with reading this then I suggest you move on because it will get worse from here on in.