here have an extract from my pjo hogwarts au that nobody asked for and nobody wanted
Percy had never been in need of his mother's blue cookies more.
He missed her more than anything now, more than the soft creak of his bed, more than the soothing choir of rain singing against his window. He missed her more than he missed his own sanity.
Of course, his bed still made a soft creak, and the rain still made the same noises. But his bed wasn't actually his bed, and it was in the Slytherin dormitory, and the rain wasn't against the same window. Nothing was the same. And all these facts dancing around his head hurt so terribly that if anyone were to roll into bed next to him, tap him on on the shoulder, and ask him what he wanted most in that moment, Percy would without hesitation or embarrassment answer that all he really wanted was to go home. To go home, and to never come back, and to not be a Slytherin anymore.
Balancing his homesick heavy heart, he tore the covers back - because, honestly, did anyone genuinely expect him to be asleep while in phase three of Disaster Mode?
The stone floor was kind of cold against his feet, but not unbearably so, and it didn't make annoying squeaking noises when he walked across it. Unlike home.
He slinked past the doorway into the Common Room, the way he'd been taught to when Gabe was drunk and he was super hungry. And, to be quite honest, he didn't need to be so quiet, because every Slytherin student was out like a lightbulb.
The Common Room, Percy would admit despite his resentment, was pretty diggity dang cool.
The lounges were leather, the furniture blocky and square, but some slightly airy, the decorations spiky and silver (which was probably not a good idea, placing spiky decorations in a room full of curious adolescents). It was nice to look at, comfortable to relax in; and, he supposed, many children considered this spiky spooky room home. Could he?
Then it happened again - the constant reminder that Slytherin kids were bad. They were evil, malicious, manipulative, and the collective embodiment of every supervillain ever. He couldn't make this his home, not while he was a Slytherin.
Percy plonked himself down on the nearest couch, and he sat there for a long time, staring into the fireplace, hugging his knees. The fireplace was mesmerising, rising coils of gold and auburn in various shades that were so bright in such a dark room, and they swirled in patterns that nobody could memorise but only appreciate. The warmth the flames spread across him felt out-of-place in a room as gloomy as the Slytherin Common Room. At home, they'd never had a fireplace, but mum had always longed for one. He never really understood why - after all, it was mostly rich people or big families that had fireplaces in his town, and it wasn't like Percy had any rich friends. Or any friends, for that matter. Did Slytherins even have friends? Did their friends even like them? Or did they all think the same thing - they're not your friend. They're not nice. They don't care, and you know it, so don't care about them either.
"It's bigger than Gryffindor's."
Percy nearly died, right there on the couch in the Common Room. Heart thundering, his head whipped around.
Leaning against the doorway was a tall, raven-haired girl, eyeing him bemusedly. At a quick glance, Percy might've guessed she was fifteen or so. Her smile was too warm to be a Slytherin's. She had a calm but solid presence in the room, and her prettiness was not loud or overbearing. There was an airy, casual aura to her. And ... she looked ... familiar? That freckle beneath her left eye, Percy was sure he'd seen it before.
He had - this was the same girl who had led the first-years to the Slytherin Common Room, she had to be!
"What?" Percy said, his voice such a rasp he winced.
