Authors Note: Arthur's letter to Percy after the big fight got some pretty nice reviews *was v. v. pleased* so I decided to do something similar. Hey, do what works.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
"You can kid the world. But not your sister." ~Charlotte Gray
~*~
She took out a yellowing piece of parchment, her ancient quill and inkwell, the one dripping with ink and looked at her supplies. She didn't pause; she merely picked up the quill and began writing. The scratchy sound filling her head.
'Percy,'
The name brought back memories but she brushed them aside for later.
'So, let's start with this. I can't sit here and tell you 'you're my brother and I love you and I am not angry with you' because guess what? I am angry with you. However, before I start I'd like to affirm the fact that I love you like I love part of myself.'
She penned the words and put the quill down on the willow desk. She took a sip of pumpkin juice and continued.
'You had a nasty fight with Mum and Dad, I hear. From what I've heard (which is quite a bit because Fred and George were using their expendable ears) there were disgusting words exchanged. I guess you're one of those people whom for some reason I've always been able to understand, almost innately. I love Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, Mum, and Dad but I *understand* you. And being the articulate freak that you are, you'll understand.
'To be honest with you, I don't mind the fact that you work for Fudge. I'm not going to go moral and righteous on you, that's your choice and you're a smart kid. You deserve the best that can be offered, and I think you were offered the best. Fudge isn't some great guy, by any standards, but he does business well.'
Ginny took a bite of the chocolate chip cookie on her desk (it had always been a comfort food for her) and then kept it down with a long sip of pumpkin juice.
'I remember when we were really young. Everyone in this house has always had this little habit of patronizing me and thinking of me as 'little Ginny' something (not someone) to be protected and guarded. Someone who really isn't someone. But you've always treated me with the utmost respect, even from a very young age. You let me go along on your 'adventures' and talk to you about silly things like the planets and melted Honeyduke's chocolate. And it wasn't anything special, but the feeling I got from it was.'
'You were this nagging logical feeling in the back of my head. Still are, mind you. I've always been overly emotional and I think the funny thing about you is that: you aren't. You didn't cry at Grandmother Cimmy's funeral (and our whole family was in tears, by the way) you just looked stoically around. I've always admired your toughness and the way you can just 'put on a tough face' and get it over with. Because I've never been able to do it.'
She became overwhelmed with emotion and small tears came out of her eyes and splattered upon the parchment leaving wet drops all over it. Quickly brushing them away she continued.
'And there you were in the kitchen that day and your eyes were brimming with tears and your cheeks were so red. And you were human for that second. You were human and vulnerable and in pain. And for some reason when you acted like that, it was so abnormal and unnatural.'
'But you weren't Percy then, not really.'
'You don't come around much; you're staying in Penelope's flat aren't you? That's nice, if you like that sort of thing. I think you'd like it better back here, where you belong. But who am I to say what's best for you? I'd like to say that I don't "know" you anymore that you've become some sort of "stranger." But really, Perce, you haven't. You're no more a stranger than you were before. Maybe it'd be easier if you were though. Ever since I was a little girl I remember being called 'nurturing' and 'maternal' and that's sort of how I feel right now, kind of like you're hurt and alone and with this little ebony haired girl and you're alone...together'
'But you're still alone, you know.'
She took another bite of cookie and looked over what she wrote humming quietly. She pulled her Weasley sweater over her head.
'Anyway, it's getting late and Pig won't be happy to take a letter at this time of night.'
Reason kicked in and she scrawled quicker.
'You may be able to run from Mum and Dad, or Bill and Charlie, maybe even Fred or George, probably Ron too.'
'But you can't run away from me, I know you too well.'
'Love always (and always doesn't disparate)
-Ginny'
Disclaimer: Not mine.
"You can kid the world. But not your sister." ~Charlotte Gray
~*~
She took out a yellowing piece of parchment, her ancient quill and inkwell, the one dripping with ink and looked at her supplies. She didn't pause; she merely picked up the quill and began writing. The scratchy sound filling her head.
'Percy,'
The name brought back memories but she brushed them aside for later.
'So, let's start with this. I can't sit here and tell you 'you're my brother and I love you and I am not angry with you' because guess what? I am angry with you. However, before I start I'd like to affirm the fact that I love you like I love part of myself.'
She penned the words and put the quill down on the willow desk. She took a sip of pumpkin juice and continued.
'You had a nasty fight with Mum and Dad, I hear. From what I've heard (which is quite a bit because Fred and George were using their expendable ears) there were disgusting words exchanged. I guess you're one of those people whom for some reason I've always been able to understand, almost innately. I love Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, Mum, and Dad but I *understand* you. And being the articulate freak that you are, you'll understand.
'To be honest with you, I don't mind the fact that you work for Fudge. I'm not going to go moral and righteous on you, that's your choice and you're a smart kid. You deserve the best that can be offered, and I think you were offered the best. Fudge isn't some great guy, by any standards, but he does business well.'
Ginny took a bite of the chocolate chip cookie on her desk (it had always been a comfort food for her) and then kept it down with a long sip of pumpkin juice.
'I remember when we were really young. Everyone in this house has always had this little habit of patronizing me and thinking of me as 'little Ginny' something (not someone) to be protected and guarded. Someone who really isn't someone. But you've always treated me with the utmost respect, even from a very young age. You let me go along on your 'adventures' and talk to you about silly things like the planets and melted Honeyduke's chocolate. And it wasn't anything special, but the feeling I got from it was.'
'You were this nagging logical feeling in the back of my head. Still are, mind you. I've always been overly emotional and I think the funny thing about you is that: you aren't. You didn't cry at Grandmother Cimmy's funeral (and our whole family was in tears, by the way) you just looked stoically around. I've always admired your toughness and the way you can just 'put on a tough face' and get it over with. Because I've never been able to do it.'
She became overwhelmed with emotion and small tears came out of her eyes and splattered upon the parchment leaving wet drops all over it. Quickly brushing them away she continued.
'And there you were in the kitchen that day and your eyes were brimming with tears and your cheeks were so red. And you were human for that second. You were human and vulnerable and in pain. And for some reason when you acted like that, it was so abnormal and unnatural.'
'But you weren't Percy then, not really.'
'You don't come around much; you're staying in Penelope's flat aren't you? That's nice, if you like that sort of thing. I think you'd like it better back here, where you belong. But who am I to say what's best for you? I'd like to say that I don't "know" you anymore that you've become some sort of "stranger." But really, Perce, you haven't. You're no more a stranger than you were before. Maybe it'd be easier if you were though. Ever since I was a little girl I remember being called 'nurturing' and 'maternal' and that's sort of how I feel right now, kind of like you're hurt and alone and with this little ebony haired girl and you're alone...together'
'But you're still alone, you know.'
She took another bite of cookie and looked over what she wrote humming quietly. She pulled her Weasley sweater over her head.
'Anyway, it's getting late and Pig won't be happy to take a letter at this time of night.'
Reason kicked in and she scrawled quicker.
'You may be able to run from Mum and Dad, or Bill and Charlie, maybe even Fred or George, probably Ron too.'
'But you can't run away from me, I know you too well.'
'Love always (and always doesn't disparate)
-Ginny'
