A/N: This is just a little story that came to me a while ago that I thought I'd upload. Percy is probably about seven here. Comments are greatly appreciated, especially constructive criticism. In fact, you'll be my new best friend.

Disclaimer: As always on this site, nothing belongs to me. Boo.

Horn Rimmed Glasses

It was a fine autumn day at the Burrow, one of the last before winter was set to come in. Molly Weasley was in the kitchen cleaning when she heard a thump and a shout from the next room.

"Mum, mum! Percy's run into the corner of the couch again!" Bill Weasley called, as he and his brother Charlie laughed at their younger brother. Percy just sat there, dazed and blinking.

"Again? Oh, Percy, what are we going to do with you?" A very pregnant Molly said, as she hurried into the room. She picked up her son and set him on the nearest chair. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, mum," Percy replied. His nose was beginning to turn purple and his forehead was scraped. But he was taking it like a big boy, just like his father had told him to do. After all, he had to set on example for Ron, who always started bawling at the slightest thing, even though he wasn't the baby anymore.

Molly frowned and looked over his injuries. She waved her wand and muttered a few words and Percy's face was back to normal. Bill and Charlie had managed to stop snickering, but they were still grinning like Cheshire cats.

"Now, Percy, try not to run into anything," Molly looked forlornly at her son. He was always running into things, even more so than Bill and Charlie had when they were his age. Percy nodded and Molly went back to the kitchen.

"Percy, you're such a spaz," Charlie taunted. Bill's grin widened and they moved to either side of the chair.

"I am not!" Percy was indignant. How dare they call him a spaz! He just couldn't see where he was going very well.

"Yes you are. If you aren't, then why do you run into things all the time?" Bill asked.

"They're blurry and I don't see them," Percy explained. Even though he was younger, he secretly thought that Bill was rather daft. He always needed everything explained to him and sometimes he even needed more than one explanation. Percy always understood right away. Both of his parents said he was their brightest boy yet.

"They're not blurry. You're just a crazy spaz," Charlie said. He was still angry from earlier that day, when Percy had tattled on him for turning Fred and George's toy trolls into dragons. Dragons were much cooler than trolls and it wasn't his fault if the twins didn't see it.

"I am not!" Percy shouted. Bill and Charlie laughed at their little brother and went to play in another room. He was so funny when he got angry.

Percy stayed sitting in the chair, watching them walk off. He was not a crazy spaz. At least, he didn't think he was. Maybe he should ask his dad about it when he came home from work. Yes, that's exactly what he would do.

Having made up his mind, Percy turned to the fireplace and waited until his father arrived. Most other boys his age would squirm and fidget if they had had to wait so long. But not Percy. Percy was extremely patient and his mum always went on about it to her friends. It made him feel very good when she did that, he was glad that she was so proud of him. Someday, he would be Minister of Magic and then everyone would be proud of him.

A burst of green flames startled Percy out of his thoughts. Arthur Weasley stepped out of the fireplace and brushed ash off his robes. He looked tired and Percy hated to bother him when he was tired. This had to be asked however, and his father always seemed to be tired lately. It was better to do it now, rather than later.

Arthur turned to his young son and smiled. "Hello Percy. Were you waiting for me?"

"Yes, I was," he replied matter-of-factly. "Father, am I crazy if things are blurry?"

Arthur frowned and looked his son over. "What do you mean, blurry?"

"I can't see them very well, that's why I always run into things. Charlie says I'm just a crazy spaz."

"Percy, you are not a crazy spaz. I'm going to have to talk to Charlie about that." Arthur looked around for his older son. Percy was afraid that his father would go off and then he would never get an answer.

"Dad, if I'm not crazy, then why can't I see things properly?"

"Well, you may need glasses. We can probably take you to the family healer in a week or so." Arthur said absentmindedly, as he continued to search for Charlie.

Percy stared up at his father in surprise. Glasses? Bill and Charlie didn't have glasses and neither did his mum, so he had always assumed his father was the only one that wore them. Well, maybe having glasses had something to do with working at the Ministry. Yes, that was it. If you were going to work at the Ministry, then you needed to wear glasses. And since he was planning on being Minister one day, his father must have just decided to get him glasses now.

With this new idea floating in and out of his conscience every day, Percy could hardly wait to see the family healer, even with his famed patience. Famed to himself and possibly Molly's friends, that is.

"Mum! We're home!" Percy called as he let go of his father's hand and ran into the living room of the Burrow. Arthur followed slowly, a faintly amused smile on his face. He really had never seen a boy so excited about glasses of all things.

Molly came into the room, wiping her hands off on her apron. She smiled at her son and squatted down so that they were eye to eye. "How handsome you look!" Really, she thought they were a bit too overwhelming for his face. Why in the world had Arthur gotten him horn-rimmed glasses?

"No, mum, not handsome. I look stu-… stu-… what was that word again, dad?"

"Studious. You look very studious, Perce."

"Right. I look studious, don't I mum?"

Molly's smile grew and she nodded her head. "You look very studious indeed." Percy looked satisfied and ran off to show his brothers his new glasses. Molly directed her attention to Arthur.

"He wanted those ones, dear. Wouldn't take any other after the healer told him he looked studious in them. He's going to be a handful someday."

"Oh no, Arthur. He won't give us any trouble. Just a healthy bit of ambition, that's all. It's rather cute."