A/N: This fic is written for Esrelda Snape's Learning to Cope challenge from the detailed plot challenges. This fic is also written for the Multi-Chapter boot camp challenge, and the Long Haul Competition II, week 3. And last minute frantics again because I'm not home on Sunday again. And sorry neither George and Angelina aren't in here; Percy decided to take up more space than he was originally allocated. Well, since he gets time with his wife he shouldn't complain. :)

Learning to Cope
Chapter 4 (prompt #036: Coffee)

Percy found himself frowning disapprovingly at the state of his brother's house. They had left the little apartment above the shop in Diagon Alley soon after Angelina's conception became known, but it looked nothing like the last time had stepped through the fireplace.

Both times, the living room had been cluttered. Then, it had been boxes of unpacked things, gifts and new furniture filling up the space as wrappings were vanished and objects levitated about. There hadn't been much room to walk, and even the cups of tea that their mother made for them had to be led via. wand over the various things in order to arrive at their recipients. But even with all the chaos – wrapped up quite nicely with Victorie attempting to scramble over whatever she could reach – there had been the feel of building home.

Now it was the other sort of mess: a mug still had the final dregs of coffee clinging to it, and a mouth imprint on its rim. Some of the brown liquid had, when it was still fresh, spilt onto a discarded magazine nearby and left to soak, leaving an almost black stain where Lavender Brown's latest fashion report had been.

Percy's brow furrowed that as he bent over the table to take a closer look. Neither his brother nor sister in law were interested in fashion, but it was indeed Witches Weekly opened and lying like the innocent victim upon the varnished surface. A quick glance at the rest of the room showed several more copies, mingling with more Quidditch-related medium and several old editions of the Prophet. He couldn't see a single order form or scribble covered parchment in sight – and if it hadn't been for the portraits of the Weasley and Johnson families on the wall, joint by a rather large one of Fred, he might have thought he was in the wrong house.

There was also the fact that George hadn't seemed surprised at the least upon witnessing the state of the living room – if he had seen it at all. He had simply wandered off to the bathroom, and then to bed, and Percy had to wonder if his wife had a hand in the compliance. Or it was the Dreamless Sleep potion kicking in, now modified for a slower onset that allowed some adjusting to situations first. Calming Droughts were addictive when used often after all; that was something no potioneer since the creation of that potion had been able to change.

But Percy was honestly surprised, because even if George tended to get up in his research and experimentation from time to time, Angelina ran the house with an iron fist. And yet it seemed to be her who had abandoned the coffee cup – unless his younger brother had taken to wearing strawberry scented lip gloss that was.

He was also surprised to the lack of clothes on the floor: something he normally expected when living rooms were in the state they current were. His own job, once he abandoned the upper echelons of the Ministry, involved floo-to-floo visits to rectify domestic situations. By extension that also involved helping families, whether whole or in separate parts, to get back on their feet after whatever bout of violence, magic or legality had come between them. So the scene he saw before him wasn't entirely uncommon, though it did have its oddities.

On a whim he decided to explore the kitchen, only to find it in a mixed state as well. Half the dishes had been done; soapy water was still in the sink, but the rest lay fuming under the cold water. Percy's eyes furrowed at that, and with a sweeping motion with his wand the dishes were cleaned and on the dish-rack. A few more household spells, and the living room too was restored to a more presentable state.

That didn't help his confusion though. It seemed as though George's presence in the house had become almost minimal, while Angelina's lacked the vigour it once had. And yet George hadn't shown up at Ron's place, or theirs. And he highly doubted that Bill would neglect to mention something to him. And Angelina had been at the house of old school friend Alicia Spinnet when the first pains of labour had struck; it was the broom designer that had floo called St. Mungos in a panic.

Surely Angelina would have cleaned up before leaving for the afternoon?

Then Percy sighed and shook his head; in the end, it wasn't really something he could discern from sloppy housework. Maybe she had just been tired; maybe they had both been tired. George certainly looked the part; he couldn't have drunk that much Firewhiskey when Audrey had summoned him.

And he had to admit, he was worried. Less so for Angelina: his sister in law was in good hands with the St Mungo's staff, and he trusted Audrey would get things done even if the pre-war carelessness slipped in again. The newborn child he was a little concerned about; he was sure George would have much more vocal if his or her life was in jeopardy, or – Merlin forbid – dead, but he couldn't imagine what else the issue could be. Magic was so advanced after all, and what they lacked was made up by use of the achievements of the Muggle World. Even if their machinery and medicine had advanced so far, magic was still able to prevent better than their concepts of vaccines. Most muggle-born diseases were unheard of in the Magical world still, including most of the issues he could come up with surrounding one's birth.

In fact, he could come up with absolutely nothing at all. Not even a Teddy Lupin, who would have been surrounded by Healers and reporters at the time of birth if it hadn't been for the circumstances and the Fidelus Charm that protected them, had not become afflicted with any anomality. Nor had Victorie; both of them had been fathered by men with werewolf bites, with Dark magic residue in their bodies.

The fireplace flared, and Audrey stepped through with a sombre expression on her face. 'I'm off for the night,' she said, a little tiredly, as she shrugged off her heavy uniform robe. Below it she wore a simple Muggle tank top and pants that clung to her knees and ankles and could hide whatever she happened to kneel in.

Percy followed his wife as she collapsed on the couch. 'Did you find anything out?' he asked, a little tacklessly, but the eagerness tore away at him.

She half-smiled at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. 'Yeah, I found out some stuff.' She paused, took a deep breath, and then continued: 'You remember what today is, right?'

'The day George lost his ear.' Percy himself hadn't been present at the time, but he had heard about that incident at a later stage. It was also the date of Mad-Eye Moody's death – something widely advertised throughout the Ministry at the time – but somehow that seemed small and inconsequential in the light of their family.

'Yeah, that's it.' She fiddled with a long lock of hair. 'A curse was used on it: Dark Magic. Like werewolf bites and some of the more horrid curses, this one too left a magical residue.'

'But what does that have to do with anything?' Percy frowned. 'It's already been determined that the Dark Magic residue won't pass into the foetus, despite all the complications it gives with the delivery.'

'Apparently not.' She gave a small shrug. 'Maybe not in the case of werewolves, or maybe it was Nymphadora's Metamorphmagus genetics that prevented the placental transfer.'

'And Bill –'

'– wasn't bitten at a full moon. As it didn't lead to him becoming a full-fledged werewolf, it's probable there simply wasn't enough Dark Magic residue to transfer across.'

'So you're saying –' Percy broke his sentence off himself, and Audrey said nothing. It was obvious now; something that had been concluded after only two cases, both too close to home, had wound up being incorrect. ' – that the Dark Magic residue from Professor Snape's curse – incidentally done to save them but backfired and cost George his ear – has now done something to his first child.'

Audrey nodded, her face controlled and blank. Percy buried his head in his hands, tips searching out the red locks that fell forward, and the brunette leaned upon the shoulder nearest to her.

'St. Mungos said they would further investigate it,' she said. 'They want to see if they can remove the magical influence. Newborns are more malleable than adults after all; it may be possible to repair the damage that couldn't be repaired with George.' She paused again. 'I think they want to look at his…ear further as well. To get a better feel of the magic.'

'Because Professor Snape invented that spell.' Percy's voice was muffled, and he lifted his head a little to continue speaking. 'And he's now dead.'

'Yes, and with him the intricate design of many of his spells.' Audrey sighed. 'Life is never as simple as we imagine, and things we think are over and done with years ago return to haunt us now.' Her voice broke a little, and she buried her face into her husband's collarbone. 'She has only half her left ear, Perce. Deformed and curled in. Completely blocked, and a damaged cochlear nerve. It looked horrible, on such a tiny little white baby, freshly washed and with a little pink blanket –' Her voice choked, the mask she created slipping a little. 'It's unheard of; they're already talking about bringing the Department of Mysteries in.'

Percy sought out his wife's hand, and Audrey took it, gripping tightly. 'She hasn't even got a name yet,' she continued. 'She'll be an exhibition of magical science before she even has a name.'

'They can't bring in the Ministry without permission from the family,' Percy pointed out. 'Minister Shackbolt won't allow it.'

It was a small relief though, because it didn't change the fact that his niece was already a spectacle for a deformed and unusable ear.