happy holidays. i gift you with a cliffhanger. but... i really love that you guys have such vocal ideas about your opinion of Percy leaving his kids back at Molly's. i did explain in this chapter why he did that, but just in case, i already replied to the comments!
for those wondering why this is called 'baby pinks and blues'... well... i was considering just disclosing the whole Percy / Audrey relationship soon in flashback series. probably as Percy telling the story to a member of his family because technically i have 9/10 fully written flashback chapters. it's a shame not to post them! so Baby Blues and Pinks might end up being a 12-14 part episode series. probably the longest subplot in this whole fanfiction! hopefully...
i have so many subplots that might have to be re-written to fit in with where i'm taking this story (can you guess that Molly was not supposed to know about Percy's children until way later? but i can't make up a good excuse to validate why Percy's keeping them from his mum...). this fanfiction might be a long one!
comment replies, for those that are wondering about the Percy / Molly interaction last chapter. you should probably read some of them (just a suggestion as i typically scroll past when i don't see my name in comment replies, etc):
Matthew W. Kirkland: it isn't a Percy fanfic of mine without me torturing the poor guy.
finkles89: i did happily write down an explanation. i think Percy's conflicted with himself and his parenting. i think he doubted himself after Daphne called him out on trying to keep his daughters 'sheltered' and he didn't just want to bring them back to his flat because he'd just be making it more obvious. i think he doesn't know how to strike a balance and is constantly afraid that his children would see him the way his family currently sees him.
IvyLovesWinchester: to be honest, i can't fault her. she had the door slammed into her face. he has ignored her concerns. she had to read about his marriage in the papers! it makes sense for why Percy's not been forthcoming with his father / rest of his family but he legitimately did not have an excuse for why he kept his mum secluded from his life for 4 years, especially when he had children and hasn't told her. i do think that she's supportive, especially to him compared to others, i.e. comparing the amount of Howlers / amount of times she's yelled at Ginny / Ron / Fred / George in comparison. i do think Percy wants validation from his father and ignores the validation that he gets from his mother, even though she probably validates him more than the rest of her children combined!
Phoenixx Rising: i totally get what you mean! i already mentioned it to finkles89, but i think that Percy's biggest thing is that he is so insecure about his own parenting because he's a single parent / young / knows that he has a lot of issues in his head. i think Daphne did a number in his head when she mentioned that he has secluded his children and he'd be proving her point if he just takes them back to his flat. but i can't really blame her. she had been shunned by Percy during the row (i.e. he'd slammed the door in her face, didn't reply to her, etc even though she was concerned), and then had to find out all this marriage stuff about him through the papers! and now, this on top of that? and in a span of a few weeks! but i totally get your point as well.
The Devil Wears Second-Hand Robes
Chapter Ten: Baby Blues… and Pinks: Part 1
"NO!" Daphne was standing in front of Percy's desk, whilst painting her nails into a colour that reminded him of that time that Ron was sick after he'd eaten too much candy floss. Did anyone find it funny that they called it candy floss? As if the dental healer would be happy to hear that Ron was flossing with pure sugar. "You're lying."
Percy shook his head, keeping his face still as ever. "Do you think I would bother transmitting unsound information?"
They were currently an intelligent conversation. This was the first one they'd had since he'd hired Daphne a year ago. That had been arguably the biggest mistake of his life, besides slamming the door in his mum's face and denying the existence of Mould and Port. Ever since, his life had been candied with farting unicorn and overpriced dolls that had glittery knickers—oh, and he supposed that his daughters' toys weren't dressed appropriately for work either!
Daphne looked to be in a state of disbelief. "That's criminal," she said, staring at her nails. Percy wondered if Lucy could look at that regurgitated pink vomit without wanting to reach for one of her almost-vegetarian Pixie Puff breakfast lollies.
Percy rolled his eyes. "Criminal?" he reiterated. "Do you know anything about the laws in this country?"
"You can't take a piss without knickers on in a bush outside of St Mungo's," Daphne replied triumphantly.
Percy just gawked at her because he had this strong urge to Confrgino the whole Ministry.
"You DO know that St Mungo's have these things that they had developed that people know as the lavatory?" Percy went off. "Why in Merlin's name were you doing urinating in a bush? Trying to attract werewolves and cure the lycanthropy curse by transmitting a deadly strain of Chlamydia?" he did not feel bad about this, considering that he knew for a fact that Daphne's Forbidden Forest had more unknown creatures than the actual Forbidden Forest.
At least she should put a TRESPASSERS BEWARE sign! You should see what she let inside that thing.
"Ha HA," Daphne rolled her shiny blue eyes, which twinkled to the colours of the sea. Percy's were those boring cold ones that looked like they were closer to a boring grey than blue. They weren't even the interesting blue-grey that looked like you had a mysterious soul. No, they were the grey of a bone stone that was covered in blue candy floss that congealed about ten centuries ago. "At least I can attract someone that isn't stoned, blind, dead… or a muggle."
"Blind people have feelings too," Percy replied, his eyes still on the report that he'd been trying to read for two hours.
"YOU have feelings?" Daphne replied, raising an eyebrow. "Did you know your glasses are thicker than my arse?"
Percy started laughing… genuinely laughing. It caught Daphne off guard to the point she'd pulled out her wand.
"Thicker than my arse!" Percy sounded like he'd spend his afternoon sucking up helium from Diagon Alleys' celebrating-the-fact-we're-not-dead balloons. "I've slept with TEDDY BEARS that had thicker arses than you!"
She went red, and she playfully punched his shoulder. Then she blushed because of her non-teddy-bear-like arse.
Daphne just sighed. "I just really can't believe that it's legal in this country for me to wear nylon beyond the age of thirty-five," she looked honestly disturbed by this notion. "Are you sure they don't get sent to Azkaban? Because I wouldn't wear nylon if a big fat Dementor tried to suck my soul in with a kiss."
Percy was sure that she'd be doing the soul-sucking if she'd ever been sentenced to be given The Kiss.
He wouldn't be surprised if she'd managed to shag a Dementor and then owl Astoria at one in the morning, just to tell her about how dark, mysterious and brooding her new beau was. Come to think of it, she'd probably also be sat there wondering why he didn't bother getting her any chocolates on the first date!
"Yes, I'm sure," Percy replied indifferently. "I believe your first clue should've been the fact that the Ministry of Magic robes are made from nylon… and most Ministry officials here are closer to coffins than promotions."
Daphne shuddered. "You think THIS is nylon?" she grabbed a fistful of her official Ministry robes. "You think I'd let that skinny little midget down in the clothing department make my robes from-from… NYLON?"
She moved to feel his forehead, which of course was normal, because he was not mental. She, however, definitely was.
"You need a new glasses' prescription," Daphne stated. "AND a copy of the 1984 Witch Weekly IV STAT."
Percy doubted he need a copy of a gaudy magazine as an IV. He'd rather be infusing himself with copies of the Quibbler because at least that magazine didn't tell him that it should be illegal for blokes to have pointy elbows.
He had a real-life crisis in his fifth year. Pomfrey told him that he could not inject fat only in his elbows. Percy didn't entirely believe that, considering he was 100% sure that Pansy Parkinson's mum's arse wasn't real. He'd never seen one like it. Percy stuck in a suggestion in the Ministry box to be able to call that thing a being of its own.
"Did you really leave your daughters alone with your mum after you've had a falling out?" Daphne asked.
"Well…" Percy just stared at Daphne. "I assumed that my mother would not murder my children?"
"I'm not saying that your mum's going to murder them but…" Daphne continued to prod at something that was not her concern. Percy assumed that he'd already established that yes, he'd left his daughters in his childhood home with his non-psychotic mum. What was her point? Yes. "I mean…why wouldn't you just take them and bring them home?"
"Because what am I supposed to say?" a distressed Percy asked. "Your grandmother is SO nice and forgiving! It's why I named her after you, Molly. But she's going to be cross with me now. I haven't told you, but we had a fight years ago! Oh, and since we had another one right now, let's just leave the Burrow forever even though I've kept you secluded in my flat for the past four years because of my own insecurities! It's fine and perfectly healthy parenting. I'll suppose I'll just have to try to explain this all to you in our flat that we never leave. But yes, your grandmother is nicest woman ever to exist, but I'm a fucking twat that left his family ages ago because of a promotion. I…when—…"
His head was pounding. He felt like he had to lie down in a dark room for the next few hours just to cope.
Daphne just shrugged. "You are unravelling," she told him. "I don't think you're capable of real thought anymore."
What gave that away? Was it that he spent twenty minutes ranting about how he needed a leek quiche NOW?
Apparently, he also wasn't capable of writing down sentences either. He'd been misspelling his own name on reports for days and had felt so physically ill recently that he'd been throwing up in the toilets in his spare time. Percy also suddenly felt aware of crippling responsibility that he had on him. But he also felt like a child. Even though he was definitely not allowed to be one for good now. How could he take care of his children? And why on earth was he sulking about the fact that he couldn't lock his room and sink deeply into his own self-loathing for days on end?
Percy took a deep breath. He felt a tightness in his chest that he tried to ignore. Perfect! THIS feeling!
He was a FATHER. He shouldn't be anxious anymore, because there was nothing to be anxious about…
Telling yourself not to be anxious is only making you MORE anxious, Percy bit to bit down his lower lip so that he wouldn't start panting like he'd been playing an hour on Quidditch. His cheeks were red. He felt embarrassed. He felt like he was a first-year walking around with legs that were too tall for him, trying to make himself as invisible as possible. It worked a treat when you were over six feet tall and your hair was the shade of the chilli-flavoured Bertie Bott's beans!
''…are you listening to me?" Daphne asked. Percy hadn't even noticed she was talking? Wonderful. "Percy?"
"Yes, I was listening to you," Percy tried to sound as firm as possible. "But can you please leave? I have work to do."
His brain was toast. Speaking of which, he felt bad for whoever's job it was to make sure bread slices was symmetrical.
"Are you feeling alright?" Daphne asked, looking worried. If he'd had a sickle for every time he'd heard that!
Percy just nodded his head. He did that unconsciously now! Internally, he debated whether or not to go to St Mungo's—but with how understaffed they were, he didn't particularly want to go and cause a debacle. He could just imagine the backlash in magazines and papers tomorrow. The Minister's assistant gets sick!1!1! HOW DARE HE!111! wrote one muggleborn reporter. How did exclamation parts become 1 to muggleborns anyway?
"You're going to give yourself a bloody heart attack one day," said Daphne when he didn't reply.
"Not today," Percy said. He did not have TIME to have a heart attack thank you very much. "I have work to do."
After he tried to write a single coherent sentence and failed, Percy walked over to his father's office.
His eyes were bloodshot, but he'd tried to rub it away with enough peppy-looking Primpernelle products that he'd swiped from Daphne's desk. He fluctuated from being hyper and efficient to almost falling asleep in the lavatory if he gave himself five minutes just to rest his eyes. He felt nauseated and was sick a few times. Wonderful.
Before he could even say a word to Arthur about taking a few weeks off, his father just slammed a file into his chest and said, "The Daily Prophet is here for questioning and updates on what we're doing here in the office. Just read what I wrote." And then disapparated.
What. The. Absolute. Fuck. Percy was enthralled. The department could set itself on fire, and his father wouldn't care as long as he got to home at EXACTLY five! No, he was NOT talking to THE DAILY BLOODY PROPHET! And he was sick of working past five-in-the-afternoon every bloody day and barely being paid for it!
Percy rubbed his sky-blue eyes. He tugged at his overalls, and then stared vacantly at the window.
HOME?! Arthur Weasley was going back to the Burrow... Percy realised. His daughters were there!
He did not want to imagine what his mum would try to say to him, especially with how cross she was with him!
As if Percy would let that scoundrel meet his daughters WITHOUT him supervising to make sure that the only things coming out of his mouth was how hard-working and perfect he was. He was fuming, thinking about his father just sat there trying to teach his daughters lessons of life! Fortunately for Percy, he had drilled these things that he called LOGICAL THINKING and SCEPTICISM into his daughters' brains. They didn't accept anything without an adequate enough explanation. He taught them how to use a wand to alert the Ministry they were in danger if it ever came to it. He had them reading from scholarly journals with adequate citations. Yesterday, they asked why blokes didn't wear pink underpants, but girls wore blue underpants all the time! And you know what? He had no bloody clue why genders had colours. BUT he wasn't about to start shopping for underpants the colour of a strawberry mousse!
He slammed the files down at his father's desk, and then grabbed a piece of parchment paper.
All he saw was RED. He was suddenly fuming, imagining all the things that his father would want to say if he saw his daughters. Spoiled brats, he'd think of them! Percy knew, because he remembered his father staring at children in Fortescue's that had a temper tantrum because they wanted three scoops instead of two, and they wanted marshmallows. As if he had a RIGHT to judge other people's children when his own child got involved with Warty Shorts! When he did not even reflected on the horrors that his second-year daughter had faced under Dumbledore's watch! Percy was not about to forgive what happened just because he was right. You could be right but go about something a wrong way! Percy was still fuming, because how dare he put HARRY POTTER above his own children?
He then decided he didn't want to dignify himself with why he couldn't do The Daily Prophet interview because he technically finished his work ten minutes ago. Instead, he apparated to the Burrow the second that he left the building. Even though apparating did not help his queasiness, it seemed to practically disappear when he caught sight of his father's silhouette.
Percy's heart hammered in his chest when he saw Arthur knocking on the door. MOLLY... LUCY!
"NO!" Percy shrieked out and practically ran over there as fast as he could. Wow. He was seriously out of shape!
Arthur turned around and the look of shock on his face was almost hilarious. Percy sprinted towards the door—and then ran into the door. He inched backwards, rubbing his head. Wonderful. Now, he had a thumping headache.
"OW!" Percy rubbed his nose. Was he bleeding also? Did he chip his tooth? "Fitting! This house always hated me!"
"Percival, are you hurt?" Arthur asked. Of course, he was concerned. Percy was waving his fist at the door, acting like the house itself betrayed him instead of his prattiness. And his gitness. And his Humongous Bighead…ness.
"Of course, I'm hurt!" Percy yelled at his father. "I just rammed MY BIG FAT HEAD into A THICK DOOR!"
Arthur looked affronted. How dare Percy raise his voice at the Minister? Sod the Minister and the Ministry and Percy hoped it all burned down overnight. In other news… the Burrow door was thicker than Daphne's thick arse! HA.
Molly opened the door. "What's going on out here?" she sounded calmer than she was when Percy first visited her a few hours ago. She was still wearing that black polka-dotted frock. "Percival…? You've come back already?"
"Already?" Arthur reiterated. He was not up to speed. The last time he'd been 'back home' was four years ago.
Why did Arthur look so confused anyway? It wasn't like he was the one that was running around the Ministry, fuelled on more potions than most apothecaries could offer! It wasn't like he just slammed his head into a heaving, lumbering door! To add insult to injury, Percy was also seeing stars from Dumbledore's purple robes form in front of his very eye. Cosmic… it wasn't enough that his wife's death haunted him every day…but now, his former Headmaster's too!
"Yes, well…" Percy cleared his throat. Why was everyone calling him Percival? "Hello, mum?" he offered.
Molly smiled softly at him. "Do you come inside and have a cup of tea?" Percy had never heard sweeter words.
"Yes, thank you," Percy answered a little enthusiastically. "I would absolutely love a cup of tea!" Molly laughed.
"Tea?" Arthur reiterated, as if it was the first time he'd heard of it!
Yes, tea… that thing that you'd been slugging down by the gallon the past few years. Percy rolled his eyes.
"Mother? Um… about our conversation earlier! I'm aware that I've done things that are beyond forgiveness. I am aware that I could be a real twat! Not that any of my siblings have allowed me to forget that! Sending me bloody 'Norwegian fertiliser' samples in my mail… But I really don't blame you at all for how you've lashed out, especially with how far we've drifted away in the last few years," Percy's cheeks went red at his awful apology. He should've at least practiced it. "I know that it couldn't have been pleasant having to learn such personal things about me from A PAPER! You should've been at my WEDDING. You should've known about—about them. You should've met them ages ago, especially with the war. Nobody could've known the outcome then and I have chosen to do the most imprudent things imaginable. I am proud, foolish and extremely lucky that we managed to come out of that war unscathed. Which I know is no thanks to me, hiding cowardly behind…"
Percy went from red to blue. He'd barely been breathing. "I want to make it clear that I didn't mean to hurt you in our previous altercations," he took a deep breath. "Well… um…I would like it very much if we could perhaps… just…"
"You're daft if you think you have to apologise to me!" Molly said, flushing herself. "I should apologise to you!"
He went even redder. "Mum, you're hardly in the position to be making apologies!" what was she going to apologise for exactly? What she should be doing was marvel at the fact that a bloke could have 12 O.W.L's and still be so stupid!
"I agree," Arthur said stiffly. Percy rolled his eyes. "We're hardly in the position to apologise."
WE?! Percy looked over at an unimpressed Arthur. Why do I care about what you think? Percy thought sourly. He had specifically emphasised on mother and not father. He was not about to apologise to him after the amount of sleep he'd had in the last few weeks! In fact, he was waiting for his own handcrafted apology. Preferably written and stamped officially as he was the Minister of sodding Magic. Honestly. Percy would rather accept Skitty Skeeter as his new Minister.
If he ended up in hospital because he barely slept, he bet his father wouldn't visit him just to be even with him.
"What's prompted you to apologise, Percival?" Arthur asked. "And when had you started seeing your mum again?"
He just had to know what was going on, right? It didn't concern him. He was questioning him like an Azkaban escapee. Yes, he was seeing his mother behind his back. Merlin forgive him for his crimes! Percy crossed his arms.
"This does not concern you," Percy sent a pointed gaze towards his father. "And I didn't apologise to YOU!"
He knew that he was being childish. He had done a host of awful things to Arthur, but Arthur didn't deserve an apology at the current moment. Especially when he thought that he had nothing to apologise for. Merlin forbid that he disagreed with this family. Even the MALFOY'S didn't subjugate Draco for not wanting to be a ruddy Death Eater... at least, that was what he thought anyway. What did he know about the Malfoy's? His father probably lost a year of his life every time Percy had a conversation with one of them!
"Good because I wasn't going to accept it," Arthur crossed his arms. Pitiful. This was a forty-six-year-old man.
"I want to talk to my mother," Percy said seriously. He was not going to just let Arthur walk in to see his children!
Arthur looked at Molly who just sighed deeply. "Arthur? Love?" she said it so softly and so sweetly. She might as well be crumbling custard creams on top of vanilla ice-cream. That was how sweet she sounded like. "Please?"
His father's stiff shoulders melted with her docile tones. "Alright, Mollywobbles."
Percy tried to bite the inside of his cheek, so he didn't show his father his smug grin. He knew he was wrong too, but he couldn't help but feel victimised now that he'd barely been functioning!
He was still fuming! Arthur demanded that Percy respect him like all the other Ministries by kissing his arse.
After Arthur disapparated, Percy was invited inside the Burrow. Chuffed, Percy walked inside.
He feigned surprise that it hadn't changed! Which of course, he already knew considering that he'd apparated into the house a few days ago… and recalled his past whilst sat in a couch that turned him into Orange Sesame Percy.
Yes, you were recalling how you met your wife, Percy's mind did not give it a rest. Who you killed. Wonderful.
Percy followed her down to the kitchen. He felt a warmth spread in his chest when he saw his daughters. They were sitting at the table that he sat in most meals of his life. He could still remember how it felt like on summer holiday when he woke up and smelled his mum's honey biscuits fresh out of the oven! His mum made them a plate of wholemeal toasties—a plate. There was enough on feed the whole Burrow—at a time, in the summer of 1989 when the whole family was in the house for lunch. They looked like they were trying to figure out what was inside of it without eating. Because Molly did not eat ham and cheese toasties and Lucy did not eat anything but ham and cheese toasties.
"Do you still like your tea the same way?" Molly asked. He nodded, whilst he pulled out his wand. Twelve O.W. L's, three intense language courses, and he was reduced to trying to guess which toastie wasn't riddled with ham!
And you know what? Percy wouldn't have it any other way. He'd gladly do this for the rest of his life.
Whilst his mum put in enough sugar in his tea to make a gingerbread biscuit look like a sensible choice for a diabetic, Percy picked up a cheese and tomato toastie. He used his wand to slice off the crusts, because he couldn't be bothered to get a knife from his mum's kitchen drawer. His daughter Molly ate her toastie, but she was looking at him. Giving him that look that practically said I hope you don't think I'm going to be alright with you doing this at home. She would've normally demanded that he'd get a clean knife, which she had to watch him wash and dry, before cutting her toastie.
Merlin, he had such spoiled children. Back in his day, he wouldn't dare try taking the crusts off his toasties when his mum wasn't looking. As if his mum would let him waste perfectly good food by chucking it down the bin.
Percy could feel his mum behind him. Judging him for playing into his daughter's hands by cutting off her crusts.
He sat down with his mum and their tea. He ate a cheese and tomato toastie, and sat there, thinking in silence.
His mother had every right to snap at him the way that she did. She had a lifetime of boasting his accomplishments to his siblings and he absolutely basked in the glory of being the perfect son! Percy had overhead Charlie and Bill use it as an excuse: if Percy wanted to go, you'd let him do it! Rule-orientated Percy was sure that he didn't want to off to Romania to tame dragons or to fly off to Egypt to decrypt tombs, but his mum just melted like margarine when she heard them say that. Like she'd just given up. Seriously. His brothers were grasping at the short end of a broomstick when they were trying to blackmail their mum by telling her that she'd let her thirteen-year-old son do what he wanted!
At the time, third year Percy had been too tentative to give his mum the Hogsmeade slip just in case she said no.
He remained the only Weasley that had managed to get by Hogwarts without being sent a Howler, even when he deserved it. Case in point: once, he punched Roger Davies in Hogsmeade for trying to cup a feel of his girlfriend's… toasties.
Molly had always wanted someone to go to the Ministry and it was a dream come true for her when her perfect child decided that he wanted to go off to the Ministry. Her favouritism to him was thinly veiled it seemed. She accommodated his relationship with Penelope almost incautiously, even though she'd hated every slag that Bill and Charlie came home with. She was the first person that would congratulate him on his accomplishments. She was the first person that tried to talk some sense into him—and he'd slammed the door in her face. She had to read in The Daily Prophet about how her perfect son that had told her everything had gotten married and was widowed and hadn't even told her any of it!
Could he blame her for lashing out on him when he suddenly turned up with his daughters to her house?
Percy organised the toasties into two piles: ham and cheese, and not ham and cheese. Lucy reached out for another toastie after she finished her first. Meanwhile, Molly tried to analyse what kind of tomatoes were in hers. Lovely.
"They haven't said a word to me thus far. I've just managed to get them settled down to eat something—they've been drawing on every wall they've come across!" Molly admitted to Percy, laughing. She had a certain light to her eyes. His mum was obsessed with children! Well, it wasn't a secret considering she had so many. "How old are they?"
"Four," Percy said. Molly looked surprised. "They're very mature for four, mum! You have to give me that."
"I know," Molly looked over at them. "What are your names, girls?" When they didn't reply, she tried to put them at ease. "I'm your grandmother! My name is Molly. I won't bite you at all no matter how sweet you both look... now, why don't you want to tell my your names?"
They didn't answer her and pretended to be too busy eating. As if they couldn't hear when they ate!
"Aren't you going to answer your grandmother?" Percy asked very seriously. "Molly," he ordered.
His daughter, Molly, put down the toastie that she was still trying to analyse. With all that analysing, he was going to have to buy her glasses. Especially if she kept squinting like that. Considering that both he and Audrey wore glasses, it was hardly a shocker that his children might need them too. "I'm Molly," she turned to her sister. "This is Lucy."
Before his mum could say anything, his father walked into the kitchen. "I'm not going to be kicked out of my own house, Molly," Arthur said. "I'm not—…" his eyes fell on Molly and Lucy. Then he turned as white as snow.