But…but Penelope was a nice girl. And Percy was a nice boy.
Molly sat in her kitchen, hands clutched around a cup of tea that she had no intention of drinking, and stared at the wall.
Nice girls could be invited over. Nice girls came over to study, to play cards, to spend time with a friend. Friends that were nice boys. Like Percy. Yes, she had known they were dating, but they both seemed so…innocent.
If it had been Fred or George, she wouldn't have imagined letting them stay home with a girl while the family went to the beach. Who knew what kind of girls they were spending their time with? But Penelope and Percy had just needed more time to work on their homework; summer was too short to waste, Percy had said.
And he apparently hadn't been wasting it. The family had had to return after barely an hour when Arthur was bit by something and had started to go purple, and there they were. Right in the front room, up against the couch. Shirts missing. Pants unzipped. Penelope's hand going Merlin-knows-where.
Molly's nice boy. Getting a handjob from a tart.
The tea in her cup was quite cold now. She had poured it shortly after Penelope had fled the house, hastily muttering apologies and trying not to make eye contact with anyone as she mismatched her buttons. Percy had grabbed his clothes and run upstairs in a panic; the twins on his tail, catcalling and laughing every step of the way. They were still pounding on his door, over an hour later.
Arthur had gone to go treat the bite, Ginny had thrown up her hands and ignored it all, and no one had seen Ron since he turned tomato red and disappeared up to his own room.
…Ron. Now there was a nice boy. And Hermione was a nice girl. Even if they became more than friends one day, they were two nice young people who would know the right and wrong time and place for affection. Namely on the other side of a wedding band.
Or at least a locked door.
Honestly. The front room. Percy wasn't her nice boy anymore.
He also had apparently lost his status as the smart one.