Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: I was just so excited about writing this series that I decided to add another chapter this week. Thanks everyone for the reviews! Anyways, even though I've put a new one up early, you can still expect another one to be added on Sunday. Enjoy!

Sense and Sensibility

Chapter 2

Penelope Weasley had no problem making herself at home. Mrs. Weasley and her daughters were naught but guests, now that her husband owned the Burrow. As such, however, the woman treated them with quiet civility; and by her husband with as much kindness as he could feel towards anybody but himself, his wife, and their child. He emphasized, with some earnestness, that the Burrow should still be thought of as their home; and, as Mrs. Weasley had not yet looked for another house in which to reside, she accepted this request.

The steadiness of a home she had lived in for most of her life was a great comfort to her. At some times, she could even be considered cheerful. But she was also reminded everywhere of her deceased husband, which brought about bouts of sorrow so great that the pleasure of being home could not console her.

Young Mrs. Weasley did not at all care for the plans her husband had for his mother and three sisters. The sum he intended to give them was too much for her comfort. What would they do with so much money? It was not as if they would need that extra left for Honeydukes, or books, or other frivolous things. To Penelope, it was impoverishing her three-year-old son, and surely he could not live comfortably without it. Thus, she pleaded with her husband to rethink what he should give them. Surely he would not rob his own son of such an amount? Why was he to ruin himself, and their poor little Ruthbert, by giving away all his money to those women?

"Father requested it of me," He replied in answer, though with a little hesitation. Penelope turned from him to hide the smirk growing on her face. The battle was almost already won before it was properly fought.

"The man was on his death bed. I'm sure he didn't know half of what he was saying. Had he been in his right mind, he would not have even thought about putting your dear son to a disadvantage, giving away half your fortune from your own son." She tried to look as earnest as possible when she turned back to him, and it seemed to have convinced him a little.

"He did not mention any particular sum of money, my dear Penelope; he only told me, in the most general terms, to help them, and make their situation better than could be done without a proper will. Perhaps it would have been better if he had written one. He could hardly suspect me of neglect towards them. But he asked for a promise, and I gave it, and nothing less would do; at least I thought so at the time. I promised, and as a man of my word, I will go through with the promise," Percy's face showed more resolve, his hesitation fading. "Something must be done for them whenever they leave the Burrow for their new home."

"Then let something be done for them; but that something need not be the generous but imprudent sum of money you intend to give them. Once that money is given, it can never be reclaimed. Your sisters will marry, and it will be gone forever. If, indeed, it could ever be restored to our poor little boy…"

"Why, of course," Percy interjected, with all seriousness, "that would make a big difference. The time may come when Ruthbert might regret the sum of money parted from him. If he one day had a big family, for instance, that money would be a great help."

"Of course it would."

"Perhaps," Percy hesitated, and Penelope anticipated his next words with great excitement, "it would be better if I split the amount. It would still be an impressive increase to their fortunes."

"Oh, without a doubt! What brother would ever do half as much for his sisters, even if really his sisters, in Hermione and Eleanor's case! And as it is, not even related by blood for two of them! You are so generous!"

Percy hem-hawed with a flustered but flattered manner. "I do not wish to be cruel. One had rather do too much than too less in such a situation. No one, at least, can think I have not done enough for them: even themselves, they can hardly expect more."

"There is no knowing what they might expect," Penelope entreated, "But we are not to consider their expectations. Rather, we should consider what we can afford to give them."

"Of course, and I think I can afford to give them half the amount I had originally decided to give them. As it is, without my contribution, they would each get above the original amount on mother's death: A very comfortable amount of money for any young woman." Penelope frowned at this, but in a very subtle way, that her husband did not notice before she rejoined him.

"Definitely: but it strikes me that they have no need of any addition at all," Penelope went for the kill, laying out all her scheming on the proverbial table. There was not much after this that she could do to influence her husband in this matter. "They will have enough to divide between them, and that's even before considering possible marriages in the future. And, if they are not so lucky, they can still lead a comfortable life-style."

"True. In that case, I don't know whether it would be better to do something for mother while she lives rather than for my sisters; maybe some little allowance. My sisters would benefit from it as well as herself. One fifth of what I intended a year would make them all perfectly comfortable."

Penelope hesitated herself, in agreeing to this. If she could just wheedle him a bit more…

"Yes," she replied, "it is better than parting with a lot of money at once. But what if your mother manages to live longer than the amount we have estimated? We shall be completely at a disadvantage."

"My dear Penelope, her life cannot be worth half that purchase."

"Of course; but it seems that people seem to live forever when there is any allowance to be paid to them; and she is very stout and healthy, and hardly forty. An allowance is a very serious business; there is no going back on it. You don't quite understand the implications of what you are doing. I have heard a lot of grievances over such situations with other wizarding families, and it doesn't go over well. Even just the family reputation, in the aftermath…" Percy noticeably stiffened at this, and Penelope smiled. "My own mother was left three house-elves to pay, from my father's will, and she absolutely hated it. Twice every year, their greedy hands would be found in her pockets. And then there was the fact that they didn't want to take it, being house-elves, of course, but she had to fulfill the will to get her part in it. And, of course, there was once confusion where one was thought to have died, but it was not the case. My mother was quite frazzled about it. One is not supposed to worry so much about house-elves, and paying them!" Penelope huffed in annoyance and exasperation. "She told me her income was not her own, after that stupidly thought out will. What my father must have been thinking at the time, I could never guess. Without this stipulation, the entire amount of money would have been at my mother's disposal, and not to ungrateful house-elves who have no use for it anyway. That situation has made me hate such a transaction as allowances are, and I would never pin myself down to the payment of one for anything." She spoke with genuine vehemence. Penelope had never liked house-elves, another reason for her breach in affection to Hermione.

"It certainly is unpleasant," Percy replied, amazed at the passion with which his wife had spoken those words. He loved the woman so, "to have such drains on one's own income. One's fortune, as your mother spoke so knowledgeably, is not one's own. To be tied down to a debt like that is definitely not sought after: it takes one's independence."

"Undoubtedly; and, what's more, you'll get no thanks for it. They'll think they're entitled to the amount, and not be grateful at all. If I were you, whatever I did would be dictated by my own judgment entirely. I would not bind myself to them and lose my independence through an allowance. It may be very inconvenient to spare anything from our own expenses some years." Penelope mentally patted herself on her back. He was slowly and unknowingly crumbling to her will.

"You are right, my love; it will be better that there should be no set allowance. Whatever I can occasionally give them would be better than that, because they would only enlarge their style of living if sure of a larger income, and be just as poor as they were if not given anything. This will certainly be for the best. A present, of some small amount, every once and a while, will prevent them from ever worrying about money, and will more fully fulfill father's will. He would not want his wife stressed over such cares."

"Of course it will. To tell you the truth, I am convinced that your father had no intentions of your giving them any money at all. The help he suggested was probably only as much as should be reasonably expected of you; For instance, finding a good home for them, helping with packing, and sending them gifts and so forth. I'd swear by my wand that he meant nothing else; indeed, that would be asking so much of you if he did. Consider, my dear husband, how excessively comfortably your mother and sisters will be with what they have, besides the inheritance the girls will get. Altogether they will have quite a lot and what would they want for more than that? They will live so cheap! Housekeeping will be nothing at all, as Mrs. Weasley has never, nor never will have a need for house-elves, especially considering that Hermione will be living with them. They'll have no flying cars, brooms, and will hardly need much floo powder. For how many people will they visit? Especially while mourning. They will be so comfortable, just being able to not worry about those expenses. I cannot imagine how they would be able to spend half the money you intended to give them. They will be much more able to give you something."

"My word, Penelope," Percy said, with gravity, "You are perfectly right. My father couldn't mean more by his request than what you say. I understand it now, and will strictly fulfill my promise by such acts of assistance and kindness to them as you have described. When mother moves to another house, I will help her as much as I can. Maybe I'll let them take some of the furniture from the Burrow, as well."

Penelope had no problem with this, as she did not particularly like the hodge-podge of furniture the Burrow housed anyway, and had started planning improvements from the moment she had word that they would inherit the house. "Of course, but remember that the house they move into will likely already be furnished. We do not want to hassle them with an overflow of furniture. Besides, with the beautiful china and linen she has for the place, she will not need for anything."

"That is very forward thinking! And yet, that china would have looked very nice in our home."

"Yes, the breakfast china is twice as beautiful as what we have here. A bit too handsome, in my opinion, for any place they can afford. There is nothing we can do about it though. Your father thought only of them. And, to be honest with you, you owe him no particular thanks, nor attention to his wishes, for we all know that, if he could have done it, he would have given almost everything to them."

Percy had no counter-argument for that. It was true that Arthur Weasley favored his girls. It left him resolved that he was doing right by his mother and sisters with such neighborly acts as could be expected of him. He smiled endearingly to his wife, oblivious to her selfish satisfaction. "My dear Penelope, I love you so."

Penelope smiled, with more than a little tooth. She accepted her husband's embrace most willingly. Things were looking up.

A/N: I hope you got through all that dialogue intact! Poor Percy. He definitely doesn't know who he's dealing with. I suppose he deserves it. Anyways, I'll be posting another chapter on Sunday, so stay tuned, and please review! I love reading feedback!