Title: Way Back When We

Rating: K+

Summary: So, we know how Percy, Harry, Hermione, Draco, Dudley and all the others grow up—but what do we know about them as small children? No spoilers, short drabbles on being kids. Nursery school, first spells, babysitting, diapers and embarrassing habits all here.

Genre: Different for each story. But basically fluffy angst.

Author's Note: Yes, yes, I need to finish some of my actual fics. But after reading DH, I needed to write something nice and innocent. Yes, it's compliant with DH but there won't be spoilers... though if you haven't read the book, I'd urge you to get off this site if you don't want it to be spoiled somehow.

Way Back When We

One: Percy

He hadn't meant to raise his temper like that, but the five-year old twins were beastly. Percival Weasley rubbed his sore nose, which had just been hit repeatedly by Fred's outstretched fist. However, before Percy could grab him, he'd taken off on the family's toy levitating broom.

"I wish you hadn't been born!" the red-haired six year old boy announced, much louder and more calm than he meant, and when the words escaped his lips, he saw Fred stop mid-swoop and tumble off the toy; George stopped grinning and looked wide-eyed.

"You don't really mean that," Charlie said sharply from the floor, where he was putting together a model of a Quidditch stadium.

Percy's freckled face reddened. He was sick of everyone telling him he didn't mean that. Anything unpopular he said, anything too proud, won that comment as a prize. Bill was athletic and good-looking, and Charlie was eccentric, the twins were funny, Ronald was too silly to make fun of and little Ginny was cute. Percy had the aspirations of a much older person; most people passed by him without a comment. His narrowed eyes behind his spectacles seemed to put them off. "This must be Percival," they'd say. Percy wondered what was wrong with being serious.

But today, he hadn't been serious, and everyone was in an uproar. Fred and George were actually crying, saying over and over again, "Per-see hates us!" (they were just as ridiculous when sad as they were happy), Charlie and Bill trying to be mature and reason, Mum feverishly attempting to comfort everyone. As soon as she'd calmed Fred and George down with their snapping-dragon plush toy, she took Percy by the hand and marched him into the hallway.

"Even when you're upset," she said warningly," you never, ever say anything like that! I know very well you love your brothers, and so if they are bothering you, tell them so! Do not say you wish—"

Percy's eyes welled with tears," I know, Mum! I know!" He pulled away from her and then took in a shuddering breath. "They're always having fun and I don't know why I'm not!"

"Because you're a different sort of person," she said, all of her previous, sharp tone melted as her voice became soft and kind," and none of us want you to be another way."

Despite himself, Percy trembled with tears and clung to her waist. "Even when I'm not loud? Or funny?"

"Especially then," she chuckled and kissed his forehead. "Never say hurtful things you don't truly mean—and want to take full responsibility for-- because you'll regret them."

Percy nodded, wiping his nose, and made peace that night by reading his twin brothers a bedtime story.