Dislcaimer: Once again, I must admit that everything belongs to JK. I'm just borrowing her wonderful creations for my own ends :)
Author's Note: I once again must thank AphroditeAwry, who created the challenge and gave me the prompt for this fic - it was a lot of fun writing about some completely different characters (somewhere I probably never would have gone otherwise) and I just hope I did them justice. As always, reviews are like gold to me :)
Oh, and by the way, in the second little section? I took inspiration from something I did to my sister when I was five. Seriously, don't ask me how, just know that I said it :P
Brightness (1) - The luminance of a body
"Daddy, Daddy!"
Four-year-old Lucy came running into the living room of The Burrow, where the entire family had gathered for Christmas. Percy was sitting in an easy-chair, discussing the latest Minister for Magic with his father, Arthur ("I always did like Kingsley, Father!") but stopped when he heard his daughter's excited voice, and instead began to rebuke her gently for her interruption.
"Now, Lucy, Mummy and I have both told you," he said in a firm voice, turning to where she stood in the doorway. "When Daddy is talking to someone you must-"
And then he stopped, stunned.
"Don't I look pretty, Daddy?" Lucy stood, smiling proudly while Percy just looked at her, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
His little girl was wearing a luminous yellow dress, clearly not what he had seen Audrey dress her in just 3 hours before. It trailed across the floor, several sizes too big, and, Percy thought to himself, several shades too bright. Her hair was scraped up into two haphazard pigtails tied with strips of hot-pink ribbon, the kind that clashed horribly with her trademark ginger hair.
And that was just her outfit.
As Percy's eyes travelled over her face, they widened even further. He heard a muffled snort of laughter from his father's chair, but just couldn't tear his eyes away long enough to glare at him.
His youngest daughter, his beautiful baby girl...was a mess. Bright blue eye-shadow was smeared across her eyelids (and brows, for that matter). Her cheeks flamed with so much blusher that he would have sworn she'd been sunburnt, had it not been the middle of Winter. Lurid pink gloss covered her parted lips, and from the space between them her little white teeth shone out at her father, thankfully untouched.
"It's make-up, Daddy," she explained loudly, "Aunty 'Mioney said I could play with it." And then, as if he needed any confirmation, "I did it myself."
She looked so pleased with herself, so delighted with her handiwork, that Percy couldn't think what to say. His father was still chuckling away quietly to himself. Percy could hear him in the background, was half-longing to join in.
But, evidently, Lucy heard the laughter too. Her face fell as she gazed from her grandfather to her father, clearly hurt by the lack of reaction.
"Why is Grandad laughing? Do I look silly?" Her eyes filled with tears, and she sniffed. "I wanted to look like a grown-up lady, like Mummy does."
Percy swallowed the laugh that rose in his throat at the idea of her mother ever going out (or staying in) looking like that, and immediately reassured his daughter, "No, No, Lucy, Grandad's laughing at a joke I was just telling him. You look absolutely lovely. Very...bright."
Lucy's eyes shone once more, her smile firmly back in place at her father's compliment, and Percy smiled back at his little girl. He felt his heart warm like it did every time she was happy, and was glad he hadn't laughed.
"Thanks Daddy!" And then she was off, tearing up the stairs, holding the oversized dress as high as she could to stop herself tripping. Only once she was firmly out of sight did his father really let the laughter roar out of him.
"Oh! That girl..." he sighed, wiping away his tears. "Well, Perce, at least you know you named her right - Lucy does mean brightness, after all."
Then he was gone again, the image of his "grown-up" grandaughter imprinted in his mind, and Percy couldn't help but chuckle along with him.
* * *
Brightness (2) - Intelligence or cleverness
"Ughhh!" Audrey's cry was one of frustration as she looked wildly around, picking up everything from coffee mugs to cereal bowls. She left a wake of disruption behind her as she whirled around the kitchen, jacket half-on and eyes frantic.
"Maybe you left them in the bedroom?" Percy suggested from where he sat at the scrubbed wooden dining table, making sure the girls got breakfast before they went to his mother's. Both he and Audrey were extremely busy at the Ministry, what with another Triwizard Tournament coming up, and so Molly had jumped at the chance to babysit her 2 grandaughters for the day.
"I didn't, I already checked there!" Audrey snapped, continuing her manic search. She didn't even notice as Percy stood up from the table and slipped out of the room. He knew better that to argue with his wife when she was rushed. "And I absolutely have to find them, it's basically the whole Triwizard Itinerary - and I'm already so late!!"
She gave another groan of frustrated fury. A potted plant crashed to the floor, soil flying everywhere, as Audrey gazed at the spot on the counter it had occupied until just moments before, as though expecting her papers to materialize there. She stood only for a second before she was off again, her eyes flying franctically back and forth to the clock as the minutes ticked by.
"You know, you could at least help me, Percy!" Her tone was sharp as she hurriedly unscrewed a jar of pickles and peered inside. She was getting ready to really start cursing people when she heard two things simultaneously.
The first was her husband's triumphant cry of "Found them!" as he strode back towards the kitchen from the bedroom, her missing papers clutched in his hand.
And the second was the voice of Lucy, who had been observing the scene with interest from her place at the table.
"I don't think your papers would be in the pickle jar, Mummy - please don't be an imbecile."
Audrey turned flabbergasted towards her daughter. She sat at the table, her face completely serious, her eyes full of child-like innocence. Audrey knew it was highly likely to be a fluke that her six-year-old had used such a word in the right context, but still. Where on earth...?
Her eyes travelled slowly to meet her husbands', who stood in the doorway looking just as bemused as she was. And instead of snapping completely, Audrey simply felt all her anger and frustration disappear. She gave a bemused giggle as Lucy calmly (albeit slightly messily) started scooping cereal into her mouth once more, and then she walked over to her husband.
"Well, we definitely named her right," she murmered as she took the papers from his hand, planting a grateful kiss on his cheek as she did so. "Sometimes that girl is so bright it scares me."
Then she smiled at him, muttered "I'll see you at work," called goodbye to the girls and then headed for the door.
As Percy turned to watch her leave, he could have sworn that he saw her shake her head disbelievingly and mutter, "Imbecile. Honestly."
And then she shut the door, and Percy just heard the sound of her laughing freely before she disapparated on their front lawn.
* * *
Brightness (3) - Happiness or cheerfulness
Percy slumped in his favourite shabby armchair, completely drained. A single tear rolled down the end of his nose.
Ten years.
It had been almost ten years since the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Ten years since the final battle had taken place at Hogwarts itself, since all the fighting and fear had finally ended.
Ten years since his brother Fred had died right in front of him, fighting for freedom with the rest of his family. A chance that Percy had very nearly lost until that fateful night. Fred had been the first to forgive him, the first to welcome him back with open arms. And then he was gone, just like that.
Today would have been his 30th birthday. April 1st - the day of Fools.
Percy had tried to be strong: this was always a hard time for George too, although he seemed to be doing better since he had settled down with Angelina. In fact, he seemed almost happy again. They had spent the day as a family - celebrating his birthday, and commemorating Fred's life. But then they had come home, and Percy suddenly had time - time for reflection, time for regret.
The truth was, he had missed out on so much valuable time with Fred...with all his family... all because of his own stupid pig-headedness. And now? It was too late for him to get that back.
The tears were falling faster now, and Percy closed his eyes as a choked sob escaped him.
He was only aware of her presence when she clambered up into his lap.
"Daddy?" He opened his eyes and saw the blurry image of his youngest daughter, her eyes confused, her face concerned. "Daddy," she repeated softly, "What's wrong?"
Percy didn't want to sadden her, didn't want her to see him like this, so he tried to pull himself together.
"Nothing, Lucy. Daddy's just being silly, that's all." He sniffed.
"Are you crying because of Uncle Fred?" Percy almost, almost smiled at that child-like perception that comes with being young, and nodded his head sadly. Lucy hadn't know Fred - neither of his daughters had - but both he and everyone else in his family had made sure that they knew all about their brave lost Uncle, and how he had died to help give them a future.
"You know Daddy, I don't think Uncle Fred would want you to be sad."
Percy blinked away his tears to he could better focus on the girl in front of him. Her face was serious, and she spoke with the honesty that again only a child has.
"Uncle George says that Uncle Fred would want us remember the good times about his life," she went on solemnly. "He told me about lots of good times he and Uncle Fred had today, Daddy. Actually, most of them were about you."
Percy was surprised at that. He had never exactly been close with his younger brothers as a teenager, and would have expected most of their good times to be with Ron, or maybe Ginny. "Really?" he asked his little girl and she smiled back at him, nodding.
"Yup." Her head bobbed furiously, and then she let out a small giggle. "He said that when you were Prefect at Hogwarts, they stole your badge and hid it from you, and you chased them all over the house. He said that was fun." Percy gave a watery smile as he thought back to that summer. At the time, he hadn't found it remotely amusing - in fact, he had been furious. But now, as he remembered the chase, he couldn't think of a time when the Twins weren't laughing heartily, merrily leaping and dodging the jinxes he sent their way.
"And," she went on, her smile even wider now, "he said the next year you got another badge, and they stole that one too." Percy saw her eyes shine with delight at the tales of her Uncles' pranks, and this time his smile was more genuine.
"Did Uncle George tell you what they did when they stole it, though?" Lucy shook her head vigourously, her eyes full of curiousity, and Percy gave a small chuckle.
He remembered all right. He had walked around wearing a badge that said Bighead Boy for three weeks before someone had finally pointed it out. Again, not funny in the slighest at the time. But now...
Lucy gave another delighted laugh when he told her, and the sound was music to Percy's ears, comfort to his heart. George and his daughter were right - this is what his brother would have wanted: to live on in his family's memories, not someone wallowing in self-pity feeling sorry for his lost life. He should remember all the good times that he had been there for, instead of regretting all the times he had missed.
And so he leaned forward, pulling his daughter more securely onto his lap, and said:
"You know, I have lots more stories about your Uncle Fred...Once, he-"
Someone cleared their throat in the doorway, and both the armchairs' occupants looked up.
"Sorry Daddy," his wife said, smiling at him gently, "but maybe you could tell the stories another night? It's way past someone's bed-time." Her eyes fell to Lucy, who pouted up at her father with a look that clearly said "please-don't-make-me-leave."
Percy kissed the top of her head, and said, "Come on now, off to bed. I'll tell you the stories tomorrow, OK? I promise." She brightened immediately, nodding her agreement and hugging her father close. She then leapt down off his lap and hurried towards the door where her mother waited, but before she could disappear, Percy spoke.
"And thank you for cheering your Daddy up."
Lucy spun round at the door, her trademark smile firmly in place. "That's OK, Daddy. You know what? I think if we try our very hardest to be happy all the time, then that will make Uncle Fred happy too."
Percy nodded in agreement, saying, "I think you might be right." Lucy glowed with pleasure, and waved to her dad before skipping off in the direction of her room. His wife lingered in the doorway a few seconds longer, watching him with caring eyes. He nodded at her again, smiling, letting her know that he was fine now, and she followed her daughter down the hall.
He leaned back in his chair once more, but there were no tears this time. Instead, his mind whirled with every happy memory of his brother that somehow, his eight-year-old daughter had been able to unlock and give back to him. Her joy at tales of her Uncle was infectious, filling Percy with contentment and dispelling his sadness.
And as he took a moment with nothing but his thoughts, he couldn't help but think how he and Audrey really had named Lucy right - she was definitely brightness personified.
In every sense of the word.
Author's Note: Good? Bad? Total insanity?? PLEASE hit the button and let me know! :)