#lionxboy

“Of course it is.”

Percy glanced down at his little brother with a smile, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from the new formal robes he’d saved up for so long to buy for himself. They were just about the smartest thing he’d ever owned, and they were his - not hand-me-downs from Bill and Charlie, but his. It was an intoxicating feeling, and one that Percy was determined to repeat when he was old enough to leave school. 

“Do you think you’re the only one? Trust me, none of us just want to survive.”

His voice was bitter and despite wanting to, Ron wasn’t sure whether he was actually capable of speaking in any way nicer at that very moment. Other than Gladion, most people didn’t have the chance to pretend to be on You-Know-Who’s side and be safe. Someone like Ron and his family and his friends and anyone who wasn’t a Slytherin was in so much danger for simply existing – which, if you asked him, was even less than surviving.

“Listen, mate, I’m sure it sucks a lot being a Slytherin who isn’t a Death Eater and doesn’t want to be one, but at least you can pretend and nobody’s gonna question it. Yeah, it’s horrible, but other than most people, you’re not on the list of potential victims.”

There were dark eye bags under his eyes, threatening to swallow him up whole from sleepless nights, the charm to hide them having long ago worn off. There was a flash of anger in his chest at the bitter tone. He already knew he was in a better position then most. From his blood all the way to his green tie he was privileged. As long as he kept up the act he would live, but that wasn't truly living in his eyes. Nor did it stop the need to lash out, having found that as the year progressed he grew easier to anger.

"Yes because knowing that i'm pretending makes me feel so much fucking better!" The curse sounded strange in Gladion posh accent, it would have been funny if Gladion didn't look so frazzled. 

Gladion felt as if his breath was punched right from out of his lungs when he saw Ron on the battlefield. It was as if the world around him had slowed down, he walked through what felt like yards of molasses, drawing closer and closer. He fell to his knees having forgotten what he was doing, his eyes searched his body for a wound but only finding blood everywhere.

Gladion poked his head around all the books he had within his arms the stack having blocked his sight. He could feel something within him threatening to blow up, making him clench his jaw. Even now... Even after he had treated the redhead so cooly he kept coming back.

"Why," he whispered green eyes searching him trying to figure him out. "Why do you still care-" his voice cracked on care, making his face flush in embarrassment. "What do you want from me? I can't figure it out and I- I can't stand not knowing why you're so nice to me after I've pushed you away!"