The wind howls through the trees outside the dark and quiet bedroom. The bed looks even larger with the figure curled up into a small ball in the center, he body racking with silent sobs. Outside the door a stout redhaired woman listens, her face flickering through a series of different emotions before finally settling on anguish on hearing the figure on the bed whimper slighty.

I love him.
Loved him, rather.
I loved him until he died.
I love him even after death.

I miss him.
I miss him so much it hurts.
I hear his name and it feels as if ten wands are aiming the Crucio curse at my heart.
Crucio would be an easier pain to bear.

Nighttime is when I miss him the most.
I miss his warm body pressed so close to mine.
Legs and arms entwined, my pale and his slightly darker.
Red and black hair mix together on the pillow.

NIghts used to be my favorite time; I had him all to myself.
Now they are long, lonely and empty.
A time for thinking and remembering.
A time for tears

The family who once loved me now blames me.
It's my fault he died.
He died to save me.
And our unborn baby.

No, they don't blame me.
They pity me.
I DONT NEED YOUR PITY.
I want to scream and hurl large objects at their head.

I don't need their pity.
I need him.
I need you Percy.
I love you.

The figure on the bed lets a sob escape her throat and in an instant Molly Weasley is in the room rocking Penelope in her strong arms. She smooths her hair and lets her cry, eventually her tears mix in. It's good to cry.