Scattered: Brief Lives

Percy tiptoes into the room as quietly as he can. He's not sure which one he's more afraid of waking: the baby, whose cries of anger when not fed, changed, or too tired are much more forceful than he could have imagined, or Penny, whose pale, tired face still concerns him.

She is blissfully happy, he knows, thrilled at their daughter, content and happy and resting as much as she can. Pomfrey says she's doing fine, recovering quickly, and so he tries not to worry. It's just that he's used to Penny being strong, being capable. Taking care of things in her quiet, sure way. Giving him direction when he needs it most. Right now, Penny is too tired to be strong for him and so it is his job, he knows, to take care of his family. Even if he's not sure how.

"You don't have to be quiet, everyone's awake."

He turns, surprised, to find his mother sitting in a rocking chair near the fireplace, holding the baby in her arms. Janie is, he sees, blinking contentedly up at her.

"I thought -- I just saw you downstairs, with Dad," he says, crossing to sit on the sofa near them. "I didn't see you leave."

"Mmm." She tucks the blanket around Janie a little more securely, all the while rocking back and forth, just a little, tiny little movements, quick. He remembers watching her do that with Ron and then later, Ginny. He remembers trying to sit in the rocker with Ginny on his lap and move in the same way. Ginny had bawled and he'd had the twins laughing at him for days. "You were talking to Harry," she says finally. "And your father had things to do. I thought I'd come up here and be with Penelope and the baby. She's taking a bath," she replies to his unvoiced question. "Poor dear, she did well but it's hard on a girl, her first time."

"She'll be okay, won't she, Mum?"

His mother gives him a look that is all at once both stern and sympathetic. "Yes, Percy, she'll be fine."

"Penny says I worry too much --"

"Penny is right, but there's nothing you can do about it. You know, Ron is the same way. Both of you, you always seem so worried that your happiness is going to be snatched away from you... Did we do that to you? Your father and I? Is it because I was never able to stop the twins from picking on you? Or because --"

Percy shakes his head. "No. You were great parents. I didn't appreciate it as I should have, at the time, but you were."

"Oh, it's not that simple," she replies, but doesn't elaborate. "Shouldn't you be with your father, in the meeting room?" she asks, brow furrowing.

Percy reaches out and, gently, hesitantly, as slowly and careful as he can, snakes his finger down to where Janie's hands are scrunched up in her blanket. He finds her tiny fingers and slides his own so-much-larger one between them. She blinks, turning her head toward him, and tightens her hold, squeezing his finger. He watches her, rapt, the rest of the world falling away.

"Dear?" his mother prods, pulling him away from his daughter's hazily unfocused blue-eyed gaze.

He sighs. "Yes. I'm going there now, I just -- wanted to stop here first."

They sit together for moment, quietly; Percy can just barely hear the sounds of water gently splashing in the next room. Though he came here looking for his wife, he realizes that the woman sitting beside him, holding his daughter, is the person he really needs to talk to just now. To her, he can show his worry and his fear without feeling like less of a man than he should be. Penny, he knows, would tell him that he's being silly, that she'd never think less of him... but he will think less of himself, just now, if he shares this with her.

"When I was talking to Harry," he begins, "he told me what it is he's going to need me to do. Not the details yet, but the general... he doesn't want me to fight, Mum," he says in a rush. "He asked me to -- he doesn't want me with him at the Ministry, or to help find George. He just needs me to help with bringing everyone home."

"That's the most important... Percy, bringing everyone home is all that matters. If they don't come home, what difference does the rest make?"

He shakes his head. "If they're hurt or killed, if they don't defeat Voldemort, then that's what will matter. I want to help. I want to do everything I can. I don't want to feel..." He looks up, then, Janie still clutching his finger. "He's letting me get out of it, that's how I feel. He's letting me stay home. And I didn't ask him to."

His mother sighs and, shifting, hands him the baby. He fumbles a bit, not expecting the sudden change, and Janie whimpers a little.

"She's about to fall asleep," his mum says, sitting back in her chair and stretching her legs.

Percy nods, distracted.

"You have a family now," she continues. "And taking care of that family is your first priority."

"George is my family too," Percy whispers, his chest painfully tight. He grew up hating the twins, with their easy ways and devil-may-care attitude, their ability to make people laugh. Mostly, he envied them each other, one brother always the other's best friend. And he'd hated them for mocking him, at school and at home. But they are still his brothers, and the sight of Fred at New Year's was like a slap in the face; he wants George home now, too, and badly.

"They'll find George," his mother tells him, her voice calm and sure. "And when they do they'll need your help to bring him home. We're not all warriors, my dear," she adds with a small smile. "Some of us have other roles to fill. That doesn't make what we do any less important."

He looks at the baby again, then away. "I feel guilty. I want to help find George. I want to help Harry, and Ginny. But I also don't want to leave my daughter behind. Does that make me a coward, mum?"

"No, dear boy," she says, reaching out to clasp his arm. "No, it doesn't. It makes you a father, and a brother, and a friend, all at once. It's not easy to balance it all." She stands and takes the now-sleeping baby back out of his arms and places her gently in her crib. Returning, she sits and pulls him into a warm hug. "You're part of this family, Percy," she tells him firmly. "You have responsibilities to your daughter, and to your brothers, and to Harry. But being a Weasley means you're not alone. It means you work as a team. We all do. I'll do my part," she tells him, and he sees the struggle in her own eyes, then, and knows she is thinking of Ginny, "and so will your father, and Harry, and your brothers, and Hermione... and Ginny. And you'll do yours. That's all. No more, no less."

"And that's enough?" he asks, feeling hope and strength return at her words.

"It's enough," she tells him. "It's family."