Author's Note: I am the Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons. This is written for Round 12 of the QLFC. My prompt is: Write a DRAMATIC story about THE WEASLEY FAMILY
Home
Percy Weasley approached at the fireplace, dipped his hand into the container of Floo powder, and hesitated. His hand dropped to his side, spilling powder onto the living room floor. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He could do it. All he had to do was toss it in and say "The Burrow." It was something he had done a thousand times in his life, but today felt like the first.
It had been nearly a year since he'd been to the Burrow. The War was won, You-Know-Who was dead, and the Wizarding World was picking itself back up and getting on with life again. Percy could accept when he was wrong, and he was often wrong. He had been wrong about Harry Potter just as he had been wrong about the return of You-Know-Who. It had created a rift in his family, putting him on one side of a deep resentment-filled chasm and his family clear across on the other side.
"Come on, Perce," he said to himself. He grabbed more Floo powder, his first handful now on the floor. "You're being ridiculous. You can do this."
With a determined nod, he tossed it in. The fireplace erupted into green flames, and Percy stepped in. "The Burrow," he said.
His parents' house had always been the same growing up: his mother in the kitchen, Ron shouting about one Quidditch thing or another, and the twins blowing things up and pestering Percy. Some people would have considered the Burrow a warm place. Percy had always felt stifled and out of place. He could hear his mother puttering around in the kitchen and footsteps overhead. Other than that, it was strangely quiet.
"Bill, is that you?" his mother called.
Percy froze.
"I've just started dinner." His mother appeared in the doorway. "Charlie will be over soon and—oh." She stared at Percy.
Wanting to look down at the ground, Percy forced himself to keep his head up. "I just wanted—"
"I didn't know you were coming over," she said, glancing back into the kitchen where she most likely had a pot of stew simmering. "You didn't reply to my owl."
Percy frowned. "I didn't get an owl."
"Of course I sent you an owl, Percy!" She shook her head. "I've sent you a dozen owls since the war ended."
He was certain he'd received no owls, not even one. Percy breathed in deep and remembered the speech he had practiced. It was easy since there was nothing to it.
"Mum, I wanted to talk to everyone and apologize for my behavior," he said.
"Apologize?" she asked, turning and walking back into the kitchen. Percy followed. "What do you have to apologize for?" Her tone was probably meant to be light, but his mother wasn't always good at hiding how she really felt. Standing at the stove, she glanced at him.
"I was wrong," he said, standing next to the table. He glanced at the benches, wondering if he should sit down. "I was wrong about Harry and—"
His mother waved her hand, dismissing his apology. "Not needed," she said.
Percy ground his teeth together. "I need to say this. And not just to you, but to everyone," he said. "And there's something else. If we're going to have this conversation, I want to be treated with respect."
Her shoulders tensed, and she set the spoon she had been using down on the counter. "Respect," she said coldly and turned around. "Since when have we ever treated you with anything less than respect, Percy?" She pointed a finger at him. "How dare you come in here and claim we don't treat you with respect?"
The bottom of his stomach dropped, and his mouth hung open slightly. A memory surfaced in his mind—an old one, but one that had always stood out. He had been six, the twins four. They had recently discovered that he had a strong aversion to Flobberworms and had taken to hiding them in his bed. His shriek and subsequent tantrum upon finding them had his mother running to him, fearing the worst. When she had discovered the worms, instead of punishing Fred and George, she had yelled at Percy for giving her a fright. It was the first time he could remember unfairness at the hands of his family.
The years following that incident were filled with name-calling, pushes and shoves, all the ridicule, and never feeling like he belonged. It had caused the distance between him and his family. Now, two decades later, standing in the kitchen while his mother yelled about earning respect, Percy still felt like a little boy.
"Fine, Mother!" he said loudly so she could hear him over the sound of her own voice. "You can quit with the yelling." With a huff, he turned and headed back into the living room. "I'm sorry I even made myself come over here."
"You get back here, Percy Weasley!" She followed him, face turning red with anger. "I'm not done with you."
He spun around. "Well, I'm done with you." He caught sight of someone standing at the foot of the stairs.
His mother's eyes shifted away from Percy. "Oh, George, dear," she said, going to George and wrapping her arms around him. "I thought you were sleeping."
Percy hadn't seen George since shortly after the war, and the changes in his brother were startling. Despite all the years of torment, seeing the deadness in George's eyes made his heart hurt with the grief of Fred's death. His brother didn't return his mother's hug. Instead, he shrugged out of it.
"He's right, Mum," he said, running his hand through red hair that needed a washing.
His mother tugged on the hem of George's shirt, flattening out the wrinkles. "Dinner is almost ready," she said. "Why don't you go—"
"MUM!" George pulled out of her reach. "Did you not hear what I said?"
She pulled back as if he had struck her across the face.
George looked to Percy. "You have a point, Perce. We have never treated you with enough respect," he said. "For all those years, I'm so sorry."
Percy couldn't find it in himself to do anything but stare at his brother. He opened his mouth, intent upon replying, but couldn't find even one word to say. His mother, tears shining in her eyes, backed away.
George reached out and took Percy by the arm, pulling him into a hug. "I'm glad you're home."