Percy covered his mouth to stifle his yawn. It was getting late, actually, it was late, now that he looked at the clock. Honestly, he should have been done with this report hours ago but time had simply gotten away from him, as it did most days. Right after work, he had to go pick up the girls from his Mum and Dad's, promising that one of these Sunday's he'd come over for dinner, agreeing with his Mum that it had been far too long since the last time and disapparated back to his flat.

Then, when he should have settled down to work on it until it was time to prepare supper, his girls begged him to partake in their game of princesses and cowboys, with him being the cowboy. He couldn't just say no; this was part of their developmental years, very critical from what he'd read in a load of those parenting books he'd read before each of them were born. After that, he cooked, they ate quietly, or as quiet as one could be with small children; they played some more until the dreaded bathtime where he had to wrangle them both in the tub without magic because he had the tiniest bit of paranoia that he'd drop one of them.

Somehow, Molly and Lucy made it to bed, despite their insistence that neither were tired whilst pleading with Percy for another five minutes. He'd stood his ground, instead placating them with a thousand hugs and kisses that they absolutely needed. It was just a ploy to ensure they would get their desired extra time, he wasn't that thick, but he wasn't going to say no to affection from his girls.

Once he made sure that they were asleep, or, in Molly's case, audibly counting her ceiling tiles but properly tucked in, he closed the door to their bedrooms and went back downstairs to the kitchen where he could try to finish that bloody report like the upstanding Ministry employee that he was.

Bugger. He wanted a drink, nothing too strong but a drink nonetheless.

It had been an excruciatingly long day, a long week, in fact. His job wasn't easy to begin with, add in the fact that he was constantly dealing with absolute tossers and co-workers who didn't belong there whatsoever, who barely lifted a finger which meant that he had to be the one to pick up the slack so as they would meet the deadline on time-or risk facing an irate Kingsley.

The Minister was fairly even tempered, good-natured, but when he had been provoked it was best to stay out of his way.

When he'd gone to drop the girls off earlier that morning, his Mum had taken notice of how worn he was. He hadn't acquired much sleep, his mind was on overtime trying to make sure they had everything for this project that Kingsley insisted he be apart of. His parents offered to keep the girls for the night so he could get some much needed rest and while the offer was nearly tempting, he politely declined. Purely because he didn't want to ever start to prioritize work over his family-he'd made that mistake once already.

And he wasn't going to repeat it.

Percy rubbed at his eyes, his palms pressed into his head Godric, his bed sounded nice right now. It was nearly midnight, well past when he should have slid into bed. But the report wasn't going to write itself and he had already procrastinated on it in favor of trying to ensure that his partners for the project were doing their work.

Sometimes, he scowled, he felt like he was back at Hogwarts. Trying to be the leader of the group and make sure that everything was getting done equally, even though he and everyone else knew he would just end up taking control of everything.

Which was exactly what was going to happen soon enough.

He'd just picked up his quill again, just about to touch the parchment when his ears caught the sound of footsteps that was coming down the stairs.

He sat the quill back down.

It must have been Molly, he figured, coming down for a drink that she thought she needed. Shaking his head, he slid his chair back with a slight screech, rising to his feet and making his way around the corner. He opened his mouth, ready to reprimand Molly for being up so late when the words he'd been going to say died on his tongue.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Lucy's wailing reverberated off the walls, a startling noise at such an hour. But that wasn't what made concern pool in the pit of his stomach, it was the way she was looking at him-as if...as if he was going to disappear at any given moment.

Her eyes, tearstained, puffy, there was some emotion to her a sense of franticness that Percy had never seen them before. It was disturbing, to say the least. Something had given her quite a freight: her hair was disheveled, knotty. She was woken up abruptly-by what, that part puzzled him.

She was clenching that owl he'd bought for her the day she'd been born-brown fur, yellow bulging eyes; she hadn't trayed away from it yet and he dreaded to think such a day would come.

She was breathing in short, quick intervals. She'd been crying, too. He spotted a trail of tears and snot that was running down her face, her lips trembling that suggested she was going to burst into tears once again.

He hadn't ever seen her that way, so it was unsettling for Percy to witness.

"Daddy!" she cried out again and before Percy could open his mouth, to come up with a sensible response, his daughter lunged herself at his legs, wrapping her tiny arms around his knee, grasping it tightly, pressing her face into his knee.

He blinked in surprise. Wha-

Percy had to gently pry her hands away in order to bend down so he could be at her level. That proved to only make Lucy even more distressed; she didn't want to be pushed away, she wanted to be with right there with him now. And Percy, he couldn't think of anything that happened earlier that day for this to be happening. His Mum and Dad never mentioned anything when he went to get them-or had Molly said something to scare her sister? If that was the case, she was going to be very sorry come the morning.

"Lucy?" he said softly, taking a piece of her hair and putting it behind her ear. "Sweetie, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

She shook her head, her hair swaying as she did so. It did nothing to help the anxiety that was swirling around within him, imagining all sorts of horrible things that could be upsetting her. But, he exhaled slowly, reminding himself that getting worked up wasn't going to help Lucy any.

"Did something happen at the Burrow?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Okay," he said slowly, "did Molly try to scare you again?"

Another shake of her head. This left Percy feeling a bit stumped.

And, by the way she was looking at him, Lucy was growing further upset that he didn't know.

"Lucy, I don't-" He was cut off, barely suppressing an oof sound when she threw herself at him again, wrapping her arms around his neck-her stuffed owl still in hand-burying her face into his shoulder. He felt the vibrations, felt her tears dampening his skin.

She was still saying daddy, daddy, daddy over and over. Still being said through her panic. Still, he imagined, through her wide eyes, making the blue color more pronounced.

It took a moment, his brain was on overdrive, between his exhaustion and concern shining through for his daughter, but he, too, wrapped his arms around her; picking her up, he sat on the bottom step, where he adjusted her so as she was sitting directly in his lap-halfway, anyway. Lucy still held a firm grip on him, seemingly determined not to let him go.

"Shhh," he whispered, holding a hand to the back of her head. "Shhh. Everything's okay, Lucy-Lou. Daddy's here. I've got you."

He was doing what he'd done when Molly had woken him in the middle of the night, screaming. She'd been okay after a bit, after being held and reassured She would calm down, enough that Percy could take her back to her room and tuck her into bed again where she would remain until the morning.

But Lucy wasn't like Molly and she wasn't calming down. His words-words that would've been alright to use with Molly-did nothing to placate her. If anything, they seemed to worsen things.

"Lucy-"

"Don't leave, Daddy!" Lucy shrieked and the wave of astoundment he felt was keeping his mind from idly wondering if the noise had woken Molly up at all.

"What?" he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stared down at his daughter, unsurely.

"Don't leave," she repeated, pleading.

"Honey," he didn't know where any of this was coming from. His job didn't entail him to go on any trips, none at all and he hadn't planned on going anywhere. He reckoned it was either Molly's doing, for this idea being planted into her head; or an act by one of his nieces or nephews as some practical joke. "What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere."

"You won't?" He had to strain to hear her.

"No," he shook his head.

"Promise?" His daughter said anxiously.

"I promise," he reassured her, tenderly. "Now who told you I was going somewhere?"

Lucy ducked her head. "No one," she mumbled.

"No one?" Percy echoed suspiciously.

She didn't speak for nearly a minute and a half; when she did, her bottom lip was sticking out and she said, whispering, "I had a bad dream."

"You did?" he said sympathetically, finally understanding now.

She nodded.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

For a moment, hardly a second and if he'd blinked, he would have missed it-her eyes widened a smidgen, fear clear across her face. She hesitated, biting down on her lower lip. Finally, slowly, she nodded again. "You died, Daddy."

It was entirely unexpected, quite the opposite of what he'd been prepared for. A monster under the bed or in the closet, reacting to some story that she'd overheard Ron or George telling the older kids, or even something nonsensical that would later become something funny to tell a future boyfriend of hers.

But him dying?

That was far beyond anything he thought would come. He blinked down at his daughter, shocked but keeping a few, erm, more colorful words to himself.

"What?" was his less than eloquent response.

For the third time, she nodded, looking quite miserable. "It's true," she sniffled. "You died, Daddy. Uncle Goerge was there, too. He said you hurted yourself and fell."

"I...fell?" He said, confused.

"Off Grandmum and Grandad's house."

Then it became clear. Painfully clear. Percy looked down at his sweet little girl, unbeknownst to her how disturbed Percy was. She'd-she'd dreamt about him committing suicide, for Merlin's sake. How had something so awful come to her mind? He wasn't sure he wanted to know right now.

But it was hardly important at the moment, anyway. He would find out later (and hex someone into oblivion for making his baby girl cry); for now, he needed to make sure she was okay.

"It was really scary," Lucy told him.

"I bet it was," Percy subconsciously held her tighter, as if to shield her from it.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I don't want you to die, Daddy," Lucy said in the shakiest voice Percy had ever heard from her. His heart broke at hearing how distraught she was. She let out a sob, burying her face in the center of his chest. "Please don't die. Please."

"Shhh," he murmured, dropping a tender kiss on the top of her head. He rocked her a bit, ignoring the popping that was coming from his knees from being in a semi painful position. "Shh, don't worry, Luce. Daddy's here. Everything's alright."

She hadn't moved an inch and it was muffling the noise of her crying, but he could still make out what she was saying. "But what if something happens, Daddy? What if Uncle George was right?"

"Honey, you know Uncle George is never right," he tried to lighten the mood.

But Lucy was still crying, not finding his attempt at a joke humorous in the slightest. Percy sighed low under his breath, frowning. He'd dealt with the girls having nightmares before-Molly had woken him up a handful of times, wailing about a monster that she insisted was going to get her and it had been an easy fix. But this? What was he supposed to say or do to reassure her?

He wished his parents were there right about now, they would know. By the time they got to Ginny, his parents were an expert on that stuff-course, her nightmares were usually because of Fred or George-

His heart ached but he couldn't give into it right now.

Percy didn't quite know how long they sat there at the bottom of the stairs, report forgotten, his arms tightly wound around his daughter, murmuring soothing words to her. With his head resting on the top of her head, he closed his eyes, listening to the soft tick tick of the clock.

Lucy's crying eventually settled down and Percy suspected she was probably going to fall asleep soon enough. He was gently unclasping her hands from his shirt when she made a whining noise.

"Lucy," he said gently but was interrupted.

"No," she was shaking her head repeatedly, her resistance turning to panic. "No, no! Daddy, don't go!"

"Lucy," he tried to raise his voice enough so he would be heard over her cries, "it's okay, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere, I told you."

But it didn't console her like he'd hoped.

"Please, Daddy," she was peering up at him, her usually bright eyes were red again and he wanted nothing more than to never let her go ever again. "Don't leave."

"Never," he promised, squeezing her. "But Lucy, it's late. You need your rest."

"No," her lip was trembling again. "What if you fall, like Uncle George said?"

Percy took her by the chin, bringing her face up to meet his. He spoke firm but softly. "That will never happen. It was only a dream, sweetheart. It's not real. Everything is fine. I'm fine, see?" he took her hand and brought it up so she could feel his cheek. "Daddy's okay."

She was quiet, for a moment, mulling it over.

"How about I go sleep with you?" Percy suggested. "I'll be there the whole time and I'll even make waffles for breakfast. How's that sound, princess?"

"Okay," Lucy mumbled.

While keeping a grasp on his daughter, Percy stood to his feet, grimacing at the feeling that was shooting down his legs. He turned, taking Lucy upstairs, up to her bedroom. When they got there, he sat her down and took out his wand to transfigure his clothes into pajamas. He kicked off his shoes, crawling into the bed with his arm extended. Lucy immediately curled up next to him, his face momentarily splashed with her strawberry blonde hair.

"Is this better?" he asked her, running his fingers through her hair.

"Yes, Daddy," she said quietly.

He kissed her forehead.

"I love you, Lucy-Lou. Do you know how much I love you?"

"No."

He opened his arms-or as much as he could with her laying over his left forearm-wide for her to see. "Thiiiiis much."

She giggled.

"Love you, too, Daddy."

She was toying with the button to his pajama top when she let out a yawn.

He chuckled.

"Go to sleep, sweetie."

"Okay," she yawned again, snuggling closer. "Don't let go, Daddy."

"I won't," and he watched her, watched as her eyelids shut and her breathing evened out and her face relaxed. "I promise."