When I Could See
"That was when the world wasn't so big and I could see everywhere. It was when my father was a hero and not a human."
-Markus Zusak
Molly had never felt this way before. She had been angry, yes. Her little sister, Lucy, had a habit of getting into her belongings. She had been surprised before, yes. Two months ago, for her thirteenth birthday, her parents had arranged a huge party without her knowledge. She had even been shocked before, when her mum had decided it was necessary to have that horribly awkward, "growing up" conversation when she was ten. But Molly had never felt betrayed before—at least not in this way.
She hadn't prepared for this. All she had planned on doing this evening was going to dinner at the Burrow and then spending an evening at home with her family. The first part panned out just fine, for the most part. The second?
Not so much.
They had just finished an enormous meal at the Burrow's extended dining table when the adults retired to the sitting room for a glass of firewhiskey. Molly and Dominique had followed close behind, knowing that the easy-going banter that the adults held was always a good source of entertainment. They had found a quiet spot near the fireplace and settled in just as Charlie took his first sip.
"Damn," he had muttered. "After this past week, I can't remember the last time firewhiskey tasted this good."
George had topped off his own glass before settling into an adjacent chair. "Not even after Fred and I paid you that surprise visit our fifth year?" He had cleared his throat as he passed over his late twin's name. Even after all this time, Molly had noticed, George still had trouble speaking of Fred.
Charlie had chucked and shaken his head. "Not even then."
"Oh, I remember you putting down a few drinks the first week after the War," Hermione had smirked as she took her place beside Ron on the far love seat.
Charlie had raised an eyebrow. "Alright, you've got me there, Hermione. Those were definitely the best I've ever had."
"I second that notion." Percy, Molly's father, had raised his glass in agreement.
"Oh come off it, Percy," Ron had shot with a semi-real glare. "You were a prat during the War."
Percy had nodded his head in concession. "But that doesn't change the quality of the alcohol."
All of the adults in the room had laughed, obviously well past any drama from the second War. Conversation continued to Charlie's week in Romania and Bill and Fleur's most recent weekend getaway, but Molly's mind continued to spin.
Come off it, Percy. You were a prat during the War.
A prat.
Molly didn't understand. For as long as she could remember, her dad had always been the first to step up. When he and Molly's mum had been dating, Percy had punched a guy who had said something hateful to her in a pub. When Aunt Fleur was in France and Uncle Bill's scars were hurting more than usual, he had stayed with him all night long, so he wouldn't be alone. When Molly was in her first year of school and had written home, talking about how homesick she was, he hadn't thought twice before flooing to Hogwarts. As far as Molly was concerned, Percy Weasley had never been a prat.
But then why did Uncle Ron say that?
As soon as she had gotten home, Molly had gone up to her room and closed the door. It had been hours since the comment was made, but it had been stewing inside of her. No matter how many times she told herself she had misheard her uncle, she couldn't let it go.
So when she heard the knock on her door, Molly was lying on her bed stomach-down and staring at her floral sheets. She wasn't sure how long she had been stationary, but by the look on her dad's face as he entered the room, it had been a while.
"Hey Mol," he said as he took a seat on her bedside. His voice was gentle, as always; it didn't help the conflicted knot in Molly's stomach.
"Hey." She sat up before offering a weak smile and pushing the fringe out of her eyes.
"Is everything alright? You've been acting a bit off since dinner."
Molly nodded, unsure of what to say.
"Did something upset you?"
Molly hesitated but offered another nod. She looked down at her comforter and picked at a loose thread.
"Hey," Percy chided, reaching out a hand to guide Molly's chin upward. "What was it?"
Molly bit her lip but didn't let herself look down again. She was thirteen. She could get through this without acting like a child.
"W-when you guys were talking about the War," she started and waited for Percy's nod before continuing. "Uncle Ron said that you acted like a prat during it." Molly watched her dad close his eyes and sigh. When he stayed silent, she kept going. "What did he mean?"
"Mol," Percy began after a few moments of silence. "I haven't always been a good person...especially to my family."
Molly's brow crumpled as she tried to picture this. "What do you mean?"
"I abandoned them," Percy said quickly, as if forcing the words out. His face was paler than Molly had ever seen it, his nostrils flared. "During the War. I chose my job over my family, and I left them in a very dangerous situation. I couldn't be trusted, and I was too full of myself to realize that I was in the wrong."
"You left them?" Molly whispered. "But you promised. Last year when Abigail's dad left her and her mum and I was upset, you promised me you would never leave."
"And I won't." Percy lowered his head to meet her eyes once more.
"But you did!"
Molly wasn't sure where her whisper had gone, but she was sure that it wasn't anywhere near-by.
"And I was wrong," Percy answered, his usually-even voice strained. "I promise you, Molly. Leaving my family was the greatest mistake of my life. I will never do it again."
"How can I believe that?" Molly shrieked. Her mind was going into overdrive, showing her images of dinners with one less chair and holidays with less presents to give. "You've already done it once. What's to say you won't do it again?"
"Because I've learned." Percy reached out to pull his daughter into a hug, but was swiftly rejected. Molly was out of her bed and on the other side of the room before he registered her movement.
Molly could feel the tears on her cheeks, but was helpless to stop them.
"Please just go." Her voice hitched with sobs, and she could see her father flinch at her request.
"Molly—"
"Just leave!"
By now, Molly was completely hysterical. She could see herself graduating from Hogwarts without her father, getting married without anyone to walk her down the aisle. At this point, Molly had never felt so scared.
Percy stood to his feet and stepped away from the bed. Molly thought he was heading for the door, but when his legs carried him to her side and she watched him kneel to meet her eyes, she knew she had been wrong.
"No," he answered simply.
Molly took a step back.
"Just leave!"
"No," Percy repeated as he closed the distance between himself and his daughter. "I won't leave. Not now, not ever."
The softness, the hurt, the love in his voice broke Molly's heart.
She was in Percy's arms in seconds.
He held Molly and listened to her sobs gradually fade to cries, then to hiccups. He picked her up as he hadn't in years and whispered assurances in her ear. In that moment, Percy Weasley was the exact father that Molly was so terrified of losing.
"I'm not going anywhere, Molly. I promise you that."
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read my story! I hope you enjoyed it :) If you have a spare moment, please leave a review or send me a PM to let me know how I can improve my future writing.
A/N #2: On a more official note, this story was written for Round 8 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm captain of the Caerphilly Catapults and my assignment was to write about Molly Weasley II. For judging purposes, the final word count for this story is 1,308.