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A rainbow, that's what the Weasleys were, are. One sibling for each color. Mum and Dad were like the rain and light that brought them about; always there, always guiding them, but not quite part of the showy display.
Red. Red was Ron, longing to be first in something (yet somehow outdoing them all), and full of fire and emotion.
Orange. Orange was Charlie; just as fiery as Ron, but easier to keep in check, and more understanding.
Yellow. Yellow was me, that traitorous color that's either perfect or horrid, with no inbetween.
Green. Green was Ginny, who could be happy and light-hearted or as dismal and depressed as the dungeons Snape haunted. She calmed, soothed, and comforted them all, but also added to the chaos.
Blue. Blue was Bill, calm and steady and the height of cool, always unwittingly setting the example.
Indigo. Indigo was George, full of fun but as clever as Dumbledore, not one to jump to conclusions or into a fight, but with a slow and burning rage that would eventually turn out worse for the recieving party.
Violet. Violet, so similar to indigo yet still different, was Fred. More hot-headed than his twin and just as smart, Fred completed the picture, no matter which picture it was.
Since my schooldays, I had resented them for being so much more lively and open than me; for, seemingly, being close to each other in a way that I was close to none of them. I was the perfect one, the one who all the jobs got shoved onto because I would do it and never complain, the dependable one. I so desperately longed to be recognized, that I was willing, no, eager, to do whatever was asked of me.
And as I grew up, I remained a follower, someone who would do what those they considered their superiors wished, no questions asked. But still, I did not get the loving recognition I longed for, so I tried even harder to please. I even pushed my family aside to fulfill my "duties".
But as time wore on, my intelligence won over and began to question what was going on around me. My guilt ate away at me, sending my performance at work spiraling down the drain, and my confidence and faith in the Ministry along with it.
So, when the chance came, I grabbed at it and held on, hoping for my family's forgiveness and love, and, most of all, that I wasn't too late.
Because, I realized, we were a rainbow, and always had been, and yellow, there in the middle, can't wander away on its own. It has its own place and responsibilities, and the other colors just aren't quite the same without it. And without my realizing it, they'd appreciated, loved, Percy all along.
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Named for the Wind
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