Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK Rowling owns all of it. I just took the characters for a joy ride.
Prompt: Molly asks her father why he makes that face when someone talks about the War.
Molly Weasley II was nine years old when she made the connection. She knew that certain members of her family were hailed as war heroes. She knew that her Uncle Harry was the one to finally kill the evil wizard who'd threatened their way of life. She knew her Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron were the ones to help him. She knew about the Golden Trio, but she never knew how caught up in the Second Wizarding War her father was.
When she asked him, he hesitated. Percy Weasley was unwilling to answer his daughter's questions, for fear she would think differently of him. After all, he hadn't been the bravest man for most of the war. He'd cowered behind his desk in the Ministry, and abandoned his family when they needed him most. Worst of all he'd made his mother, Molly's namesake, cry.
"We all reacted to the War differently, Molly. Your mother is Muggleborn. For most of the War, she was in hiding. Many people went into hiding either out of fear or necessity. There were very few who stood firmly on the side of the Light to actively fight You Know Who."
"Were you one of them, Dad?"
"At the very end, I suppose I was. I fought at the Battle of Hogwarts, but I was never a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You see, for a very long time, I was one of those who hid out of fear. I turned my back on my family when they needed me the most, and I will always regret that action."
"But you came to your senses, right?"
"I fought at the Battle of Hogwarts," he repeated. "Your Uncle Fred died just as I joined the Battle. My joining distracted him and it allowed Lestrange to shoot a curse at him that killed him. He died with a smile on his face, but it was my fault."
"No, it wasn't."
"Molly…"
"No, Dad, it wasn't. Uncle Fred was meant to die. If it wasn't supposed to happen, it wouldn't have. It did though. Uncle Fred is dead and it's not your fault. Does Uncle George blame you? No. Has he ever? I don't think so. No one blames you, Dad. No one but yourself."
She smiled gently at him. "You're a war hero, Daddy. Maybe not as much of one as Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, but you are one. It took you a while, but it happened. You fought on the side of the Light, and you helped make the world a better place. You should be proud, not ashamed."
Percy hugged his daughter. "I love you, Molls."
"I know."
Molly pulled away from the hug and ran outside to play with some of her cousins. George wandered in, a pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other. He looked out the window. George's kids were also outside. In fact, most of the Weasley/Potter family was there that day. It was a Sunday, and Sunday's were meant for family bonding.
"She's right you know."
Percy looked at him, startled.
"How much did you hear?"
"Enough. She's right. You should be proud of your final actions. There isn't enough time in our lives for shame or regrets. Stop that. Value what you have now, and live in the present. Next time someone mentions the War, be proud of what you did for our side. Next time someone mentions the War, don't flinch. You're a hero, Perce."
Percy smiled. "You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you."
George tilted his head.
"No, I don't. But you needed to hear it."
"Yeah, yeah, I did. Thank you, George."
"You're welcome, Perce."
