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𝐬𝐢𝐱
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No. 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England, 2015
The rest of the house fell into disarray after the Boggart incident. Lyra had worn herself out from crying, falling asleep in her father's arms as he rocked her against his chest.
Percy had slipped out of the room moments after Lyra fell asleep. His own mind swirling with the horrors of that Boggart, for he had lived through it as well.
He'd curled up on the couch in his mother's arms, crying silently. He hated feeling weak, but sometimes all he needed was Sally. She sat, quietly running her fingers through his hair, just as she'd done when he was a child, easing all his fears.
Sally stared at her son sadly, he'd been through so much at seventeen. He deserved to live a life of peace, not fear. It was unfair to all the children of the Gods, they deserved better.
✶✷✶
The next morning, Lyra and Percy had mostly recovered from the incident. But if one looked closely, Percy seemed to hover next to Lyra more often than usual. They were glued together, hands always interlinked.
Their friends were desperate for a distraction, so when Sirius suggested they tell stories from the past few years, they agreed.
"Where should we start?" Annabeth grinned from her spot next to Jason on the couch. Everyone in the house had joined them, so it was clear that all things demigod were not to be mentioned.
"Maybe you should tell the story about Percy's first fall on the climbing wall," Lyra suggested, an innocent smile on her face.
Her fiancé scowled in embarrassment, but was quick to fire back, "what about the time Clarisse found you crying over a ripped pair of jeans."
