Author's note: It has been awhile since I wrote anything related to Audrey and Percy; however, inspiration comes at awkward times. I hope you all enjoy. Please feel free to leave suggestions since I plan on making this one of my longer fanfictions.
After the war, Percy came to The Burrow every Sunday for dinner. He loved listening to Bill and newly pregnant Fleur talk about the nursery and baby names. He couldn't wait to be an uncle and read to the little infant. George always came to dinner as well, but he was continually solemn. Every so often, he'd make a half-hearted jibe at the expense of his brothers. The once full smile seemed to be permanently erased, and Percy felt he had no way to ease George's pain. Ron and Harry, who had begun auror training, seemed more like brothers than Percy and any of his siblings; however, Percy had to admit he enjoyed watching Ron grow into the fine young man that he was.
However, Percy could not deny he felt some impenetrable separation from his family from the previous years. They were like a complete puzzle, and he was a like a random piece in the box. He loved them, but he was the one who left. Had he realized his mistakes, he wouldn't have missed holidays, Bill's wedding, his father injured and in Saint Mungo's. He certainly would not have been stuck in a horrid position at work while muggleborns, even if his friends were being rounded up like sheep and subjected to hearings and certain punishment. More importantly, he would have had more time with Fred before he died.
Percy never felt like he had the right to grieve over losing his brother. They never got along. Fred always seemed to undermine his brother in every way imaginable. Percy had always hoped that the twins would settle down and discover life isn't all fun and games. Unfortunately, George learned that in the worst way imaginable. Percy had no right to cry or mourn when George had lost his best friend and partner in crime. Percy vowed he would be strong for his family, and that's what he planned to do.
One night after their sons had parted from The Burrow, Molly and Arthur settled in their bed for the night. The couple slipped under the white cotton sheets and pulled a colorful quilt over their bodies. Molly's head rested on her husband's chest. She could hear his heart beat through his red flannel nightshirt. She sighed and asked, "What are we going to do with them? I can't bear to see them so miserable."
Arthur yawned and responded, "I don't know, Molly. The war and losing Fred has been hard on everyone especially George."
Molly looked up at her husband. Their house was no longer filled with laughter. No more inventions were strewn across the house. No magic could heal the wounded hearts of the household. Molly used to hope that things would return to normal when Percy came home; however, he hated himself. He wasn't the same headstrong man. It was like a dementor sucked out the remains of his soul.
Molly asked, "And what about Percy? He's miserable. What if he leaves again?"
Arthur looked down at his wife and took a deep breath. "Molly, he's not going to go anywhere. He's just hurting. We all are."
"But what if he's never happy?" Molly murmured. She remembered how excited and proud Percy was when he was anointed Prefect then Headboy. Now he was just struggling to fit in with his family.
"He will," Arthur promised as he held his wife a bit tighter. He swished his wand and the lights in the room died. As he turned onto his side, he prayed he could find a way to absolve some of Molly's worry and help his sons.