A oneshot about Percy and George after the war. Enjoy!
Percy was in despair.
When he chose to return to his family, he expected something better. He expected a bit of anger, maybe some happy tears, and some shock. He expected to experience the moment when he could finally charge at those wretched Death Eaters with every member of his family by his side.
Not this. Anything but this.
After Fred's death, he tried to write a letter to numb the grief. Percy had always had a thing for words. Writing came easy to him and the result was usually well-thought out and elegant, contrary to spoken word, where he would always get flustered or too excited. This happened to be why essays were a strength for him during his school career.
By the end, twelve scrolls of parchment were burning in the fireplace.
Next he tried listening to music. After all, many people found comfort through the lyrics and that was how they got through their grief. But most of the songs he found were either too sappy or they brought him to tears. And the last thing Percy needed was more tears.
So three weeks after the battle, Percy Weasley sat in the Burrow's kitchen, not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do.
It was midnight. Everyone had gone to sleep and surprisingly, it was oddly peaceful that night. For the last few weeks, you could often hear screaming and crying in the late hours. No one discussed it in the morning, though. They didn't need to. They knew why, and they were all too exhausted and broken to bother.
Ginny had taken to calling Harry in the middle of the night with the two way mirror his father and godfather had previously used. Mum always scolded Ginny for this, saying Harry needed his rest, but Percy suspected the Boy Who Lived was having a hard time getting sleep just like the rest of them.
Tonight, though, the only thing you could hear was the ghoul moving around in the attic. That is, until he heard a door suddenly open at around 12:45. Percy sucked in a breath. It sounded like it came from Fred and George's room-well, now just George's room, but George had locked himself in there for three weeks straight, only coming out to get water. It was highly unlikely that he would properly come out now.
And yet, there George was, hair a mess; clothes wrinkled; eyes red and puffy. Perhaps this was another one of his water trips.
"Hey, Perce," he croaked.
"Hey, George," said Percy. "I can get you a cup if you want."
"No," said George, walking over to the pantry to grab a mug, "I'll do it. Dammit, Perce, I need to do something!"
"Like what?"
"Anything," he replied simply. "Anything besides sulking in my room all day. Cooking...cleaning...I dunno."
"I think Mum's cleaned this place to death," Percy told him with a small, tight lipped smile. That was the most anyone in the Burrow could manage these days.
"Classic Mum," George mused. "Never thought I'd ever say this, but maybe I could read. Reading makes you happy, doesn't it?"
"It's relaxing. But you're the one who had to be dragged to the library. Who are you and what have you done with my-?"
As George sat down next to him, Percy finally got a good look at his hair and gasped.
"Your hair is blue!" he said shrilly.
"Oh yeah…" George looked uncomfortable. "About that...I kinda dyed it yesterday. News flash?"
"But why? There's never been a Weasley without red hair!"
Percy had never been one to show much family pride, but it was true. There had never been a Weasley without red hair. If you were a Weasley, you had red hair and everyone knew that. Seeing his brother with blue hair shocked Percy. He couldn't even begin to imagine how his mother would react when she saw it.
George was slightly amused by his brother's reaction. "So am I the next door neighbor now that I have blue hair?"
It was meant as a joke, but it only made George sadder when he remembered saying something similar back when Fred was still alive. They had always done their jokes together, but now there was no one there to add onto the fun. "Fred and I" had just become "I".
Percy seemed to notice his despondent look and hastily said, "Of course not. I mean, Harry's practically a Weasley now and he doesn't have red hair."
"True."
"But...erm...why did you do it?"
"Every time I look in the mirror, I see him," George said bitterly, blinking back unshed tears. "And I ca-can't-it's t-too pain-"
He sobbed.
Percy was unsure of how to comfort his brother. He had never really faced a crying person until after the war. So he tried the one method he thought George might like best: joking around.
"Er-so basically you thought of four ways to handle grief," he began lamely. "Cooking, cleaning, reading, and dyeing your hair blue."
This didn't have the desired effect. George just looked bemused.
"Sorry," Percy said quickly. "That was bad. You can do whatever you want with your hair for whatever reason, but do know that Mum's going to be ballistic when she sees it."
"Who tipped you off, genius?"