33. more promises but none to ensure her survival

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For all that Percy had been teased to be the 'feelings type', she's quite useless at feeling the one bond that she really wanted to be aware of.

The empathy link was not present in her mind as it had been for Grover. He had described it to be very similar to the time they had shared dorm back in Yancy Academy. The school hadn't cared much for her gender and she had used their ignorance to sneak out and stand vigil for her friend and his crutches.

That thought now makes her realise how awful middle schoolers could really be. Then she takes hold of her wandering mind and forces it to stay on track.

Right, the empathy link that she could never feel but was always comforted by the thought of it. It all makes her wonder when Grover brings it up on their quiet evening by the strawberry fields. It makes her rethink about the fact that the link was now broken.

"I miss the empathy link," the not so much of a boy anymore chews on his aluminium scrap. The nervous tic is done with more care than he usually shows for its the special can that Percy had picked up before coming to camp the day before.

"You really really don't," Percy has her eyes closed, laying on her crossed arms upon the grass.

Grover abandons his snack with a sigh and lies beside her. The blue sky is darkening. The clock ticking closer and closer to her leave. "I never know what is happening and that makes me nervous—"

"There's no need—"

He's not done, "—because you show up like this!"

She tugs on her flannel sleeves, absentmindedly ensuring that the bandages are hidden from view. "I could never subject you to that,"

"When are you going to learn that I want to do that for you Percy?" His tone's nothing but miserable. "When you were down there—lost and we had no idea what to do—what to think—I was scared out of my mind—and without the link—" he cuts himself off, breathing heavy and sitting up before his best friend could offer an ill timed apology, he says, "I was scared."

"I'm—"

"I'm still scared with you there,"

Percy sighs, stretching out her legs in front of her. It hadn't quite stopped being sore in ages. "Things are getting worse,"

Grover finds that it's easier to breathe after all that's out and rather than talking about it, he chooses to change the subject. That's something he learned from her. "What you were talking with Chiron?"

She nods. The shift had been more of instinct than anything. Deal with something straight on but to face the consequences? Better to run. Life found something to throw something new at her everyday anyway.

"What're you going to do?"

"I'm not sure," her lips twist into a frown, "they're asking me to teach Grover and I can't do that," she spreads her hands, spitting out as if it's the most unimaginable thing anyone can ask of her, "not again!"

"You don't have to Percy," the satyr's chin trembles, reiterating the phrase she's been hearing for a while now. "You really don't have to."

"I can't do it again!" Her voice remains defensive. "I told myself that I won't—I can't train another army,"

Grover looks on with increasing worry. He rests his hand on her shoulder.

"I told them no," it's with shame she admits. Her eyes close and her head bows. Her best friend's there to catch her. He wraps his hands around her shoulder and pulls her in with great caution.

"We told ourselves we wouldn't let the Fates control us Percy,"

She holds onto him and breathes. The woods, fragrant flowers, soil and life itself. An irrational fear creeps up on her for being the death of it all. "I'm scared of what's going to happen,"

"You can be. You've been too brave for too long," he smiles, a wry thing that she can't see. "All of us," He says, an addition that he has been talked into add after too many discussions. In the very strawberry field beneath the pine tree that overlooked the beach.

"They're going to fight anyway,"

Grover tenses. The trees shake over them. "These monsters as well?" Even without the empathy link, he can guess what she's thinking.

"Monsters that probably wouldn't be there if it weren't for me,"

"You can't be so sure,"

"No I can't," she agrees but he's not reassured.

The trees shower them with their leaves and the air feels chill than it's supposed to be. The birds chirp in the long pause that settles over them.

"Percy," The satyr calls in a hesitant tone that makes goosebumps race across his skin. He sounds almost afraid to ask, "would you be there if the Fates hadn't talked you into it?"

"By the gods, no," it is immediate as she sits up to shake her head.

He nods and in a moment of confusion as to what to do, he offers her some of his scraps.

She smiles, politely refusing it as she had been for years.

He smiles back. It's prompted by her own. It's nice to see it back, though subdued and small, it's a sliver of the person she used to be. Whatever ploy the Three had planned, at least it brought that out. In the comfortable silence, he ruminates over uncomfortable thoughts.

The past years had been brutal. Percy lost and found, only to go missing again. But no she wasn't missing but had fallen. No, jumped into Tartarus of all places. The frail empathy link that he had held onto with all his might all those months remained the only evidence for her survival. When that broke, he did as well. It was disturbingly close to the time when they got the news that they had lost their greatest demigods to a yawning pit.

He was later briefed about it by the weak voice of the girl beside him. The bright, too loud voice of hers gone, lost to the pit. It wasn't only that though. No, a part of her had been lost in the pit.

The happenings that had caused were what that had led her to cut the link. A titan had shown her how to do that and she had never been sure that it had worked but glad it had.

He had looked at her then and thought of the same thing he was thinking now. The same thing he had thought all those years ago at Yancy Academy when she had grinned at him from two seats after rescuing him from bullies near the fountain. The fountain that had been at the risk of exploding.

'Percy Jackson, you're one of a kind.'

One of a kind that's loyal to a fault. Thinking about her best friend's mental health while stuck in hell. Powerful enough to be feared by monsters. And his best friend.

It is the last thought that makes him extend his hand towards her.

"I don't want tin G-Man, thanks,"

He shakes his head, disposing the scraps and holds out his hand, waiting.

"What?"

"You should do whatever you think is right," he clarifies with the certainty that she admires, having watched it settle within him, "Tell me you'll do what you want to do,"

From a fumbling young boy to the Lord of the Wild. Yet the same promise. She considers his hand and the scruff on his chin that has grown into a beard. It's her best friend and how can she ever say no to him.

"Alright okay," she places her hand on top of his.

"And you should be careful,"

She withdraws her hand. "I'll try my best,"

"You should be," any solemnity flees him, leaving him to insist with too many bleats. He doesn't care that's too much to ask for someone living a magic castle, especially when that is Percy Jackson.

"I'll try."

And she didn't.

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34. again with the choices

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There's an unexpected visitor waiting in the kitchen for the temporary residents of the Grimmauld Place.

"Hullo Percy," Sirius doesn't appear the least perplexed. He waves, yawning as he moves to make coffee.

Remus follows him, echoing the greeting and accepting the cup of tea the former offers to him. "Thanks Pads," his demeanour is much more relaxed than she remembers and the smile he gives the other man is positively radiant. She looks away.

"Percy!" Molly's not as indifferent to the new arrival. She covers her own mouth, her eyes darting back and forth for the telltale sign of the late Lady of the Black House drawing breath to deliver another long tirade. The house remains strangely quiet.

Arthur has no such reservations. His tired pace from the Order meeting hastens and he fires off questions without pause, "Is anything the matter? Why're you here? Is everyone alright—?"

"Your kids want to learn how to fight," Percy utters the first words, returning her gaze to the wood grain of the table she's been observing.

"How'd you even get here?" Kingsley halts Tonks in the hallway and points for her to take the other end.

They have surrounded her but that doesn't seem to concern her at all. Her frown has been present before the arrival of the Order.

"Hogwarts doesn't allow apparition," Hestia remarks, her wand at ready in her pocket.

Percy has her own tucked in hers and that's another reason for concern for them. She isn't someone one would be worried about attacking though. For she casually leaned against the counter to observe the table and seemed completely consumed in her own thoughts.

"Which you shouldn't know anyway," Moody adds gruffly, making no effort to show that he had his wand.

"Portkey," she offers vaguely, gesturing to the only calm people in the room.

Remus shrugs. "Figured it may come of use. She's authorised to have one to her camp,"

Sirius doesn't try to defend at all. He sips at his coffee and pretends that the world around him doesn't exist.

"To her camp," Kingsley emphasises, sighing when that only gets him another shrug.

"She's helping with my case," Sirius offers at last, "and what do you mean about the kids?" The coffee finally interprets the words and its meaning.

Remus peers closely at her purposely composed posture. He exhales, the closest that could come to a gasp. "What's happened to your face?"

Drawing attention to it and her own tensed figure shifting in its place rips away any other traces of the mist covering it up. They're subjected to deep scars running across her face.

Sirius is on his feet and scrutinising the lines in the blink of an eyebrow. "Percy, does it hurt?"

She leans away, finally feeling fully aware of herself and her surroundings. "Old ones," she mutters, "makeup got washed off."

The convict's hands itch for salve. He frowns and looks back at Remus. The person that he's reminded of at her scars gives a shake of his head.

Molly is horrified. "But how?" She clutches the chair that was the only thing holding her up.

"Doesn't matter," she waves it away. "For now, your kids want to fight,"

"The DADA club?" Kingsley inquires.

She nods. There are no questions except for the rise of her eyebrow.

"Fletcher overheard them in Hogsmeade,"

"You're keeping an eye on them?" There's the sudden pause for sheepish silence. "That's good, good,"

"Percy have a seat," Molly ushers her into one, taking hold of her hand. The gesture itself surprises hers and she moves to the woman's wishes. She had thought that would be lost with the letters after her sorting into the Slytherin house. "What're you talking about?"

She inhales deeply, shaking off the haze that has been around her for a while now. "They've this club that's learning Defense Against the Dark Arts and they'll be fighting in the war,"

"It's defense they're learning," Remus' emphasis on the word is on the contrary to all the other times he had used it. It wasn't himself that he was defending to all those that assumes all dark creatures practice dark arts.

"They're being prepared for when anything attacks them," Sirius takes over when he's unable to continue, "during the war, that's it,"

Percy looks on as he winces at his own questioning tone. "They'll be fighting, without doubt,"

"We can't have that," Arthur's disagreement is a mere mumble.

"Don't really have much of a choice there," she shakes her head, resting it on her steepled hands. She appears more desolate than any other, her entire body drooping except for her shoulders that remain tense and stiff of an invisible weight.

Hestia tries to reason, "They're kids, they don't know what's going on—"

"Oh they know very well. I wouldn't have thought of this much but then, they're counting in all sides of attack and learning to specifically learn defense against those."

Arthur draws in a choked breath as Molly cries out in alarm. "The monsters,"

"Where did they even come from?" Tonks collapses on a chair, rattling the table.

"They've been around since forever,"

"But not at these numbers," Kingsley adds to his partner's explanation. "Certainly not within Hogwarts,"

"They are now and your kids want to fight those too,"

"We can't let them—!"

"I don't think there's a choice Molly," Percy breathes, "They will fight,"

"We should not allow them then! I'm bringing them right back here—!"

"Take them out of Hogwarts," Sirius says in an uncharacteristically soft tone, "you take them away from safety,"

"They'll have to remain there," Arthur agrees, looking at anywhere else but his wife. "We can ask the Hea—"

"No." The absolute command comes from the least expected Kingsley. "That'll be of no use." He has dipped into politics and has been in the Order for long enough to know this.

"No choice then?" Percy's lips twist into something of a smile, made all the more uncertain by the scars. "Sounds familiar,"

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A/N: yes the first scene with the Order was longer but I draw the line at 2.3k words (hellooo attention span issues) so yeah that'll be posted soon, spoiler: Percy explodes.