The Burrow
When they get to just the edge of the property, the door to the Burrow swings opens, revealing his mother. She’s aged well- just bits of grey at her temples and crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes. She’s wearing the same apron she’s worn since Percy was boy- something with flowers embroidered into the edges. She whoops cheerful and ducks her head into the house, presumably to yell for her husband, before rushing down the steps and the garden path to greet them.
“Grandma!” Molly exclaims, dropping her bag and jumping into her namesake’s arms. His mother chuckles, nearly getting bowled over as the girl leaps into her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She and Molly had always been close- it may have been the name or just their personalities. They were both bright and gregarious- Lucy seemed to enjoy his more thoughtful and quieter father.
“Hello loves! It’s so good to see you.” She plants a kiss on Molly’s head. Molly pulls away and lets Lucy hug Molly- it’s brighter, but just as tight. The door behind his mother opens, revealing his father. He smiles when he sees them.
“How was the trip?”
Percy feels his shoulder twinge- the ride was shorter than the train to Hogwarts from London for sure, but he had had been much younger then. Wizarding folk were well known for their relatively good health and slow aging- but Percy (like many) had suffered during the war. While one’s broken bones could be repaired, if there was too much time between the injury and the healing spell, or the injury was done via a curse like Percy’s shoulder, the pain could linger. He always felt it when it rained or when he was sitting down or cramped together for too long. Like being in a small train compartment with two children who were constantly squabbling to sit on his lap to look out the window.
His face must say it all because his father chuckles.
“That bad, huh?”
“Bit cramped.” Percy admits sheepishly, dropping his hand from his shoulder. He’s not very confident that this family know of the old injury, but he’d rather not draw attention.
“Have you eaten?”
Percy shakes his head. “Not since this morning.”
He hadn’t eaten anything at all, not that he was going to tell her that. She tuts and frets over her grandchildren, and before he knows it they’re being ushered inside.
It’s odd, coming back to the Burrow. For years when he was small it felt like home. But when he started going to boarding school, he found that he spent more at Hogwarts then at the Burrow. Then there was his three- year estrangement and nearly two years after that of basically doing his best to avoid spending any more time than he had to. Mum never stopped bugging him about it until he’d moved in with Audrey; and she’d gotten it in her head that he’d been so reluctant because he had been seeing her longer than he’d let on and just less than a year. He hadn’t bothered to correct her.
The Burrow was the same as it always was; old, sagging couches, cramped with bits of magical bits of clutter here and there. The large den window overlooking the garden-, Percy’s favorite part of the house. It felt a little bit like he was dreaming. The Burrow was no longer his home- it was his parent’s house. He’d left his home with the girls.
Mum picks up on his melancholy almost at once. Too cheerful, she places her hands on her hips and looks down at the twins.
“Well girls, would you like to help me prepare lunch in the kitchen? That way your father can unpack and get you set up.”
Lucy looks from Percy to his mother, clearing looking for permission. She was sensitive in that odd sort of way- sometimes it felt like she was never able to tell how someone was feeling and other times she picked up on it so quickly Percy got whiplash.
“Go on, Lucy.” Percy says with a wave of his hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wand. “I’ll take your belongings upstairs.”
“I’ll help.” His father says quickly, taking out his own wand. They levitate the bags as the girls join his mother in the kitchen.
“You’ll be in your old room, and the girls will be in Ron’s. They’re fine to share still, aren’t they?”
Percy shrugs. “They should be. If they both get into Hogwarts they’ll share with five others anyway.”
The girls had been expressing interest in a little more independence. But Percy thought it was better to room them together until they saw if they got the Hogwarts letters. He was certain Molly had magic; she’d done what all magical children did growing up. Making things float, things change color, etc. Lucy, he wasn’t so sure. If she had did any accidental magic, he hadn’t seen it and if Audrey did she never said anything. There was a chance her magic was just weaker then her sister’s. Percy had run into that himself. He never showed any signs of magic and still his Hogwarts letter came in. Perhaps that was why he always felt the need to work so hard; he wasn’t naturally talented like his siblings.
He blinks himself out of his train of thought, realizing his father was looking at him curiously.
“If they don’t get in, I’ll arrange for separate rooms. If they do, why bother?” His father nods and Percy opens the door to his childhood bedroom.
It’s not exactly the same as it has looked when he was a child; most of his personal effects had been moved out. It’s on the second floor, overlooking the garden. Since the Burrow was so cobbled together by magic, the layout of his room was quite odd- rather than the larger boxy shape of the twin’s room which is on the same floor as his, it had a bit of a wonky ‘L’ shape, with an old desk tucked into the corner spot. It had created an almost cubicle of Percy to study and write. A wooden night table is pushed up again the far wall, next to his bed. It’s not made yet, but there are clean sheets folded on the foot of it. On the other call next to the desk and rickety chair is a nearly empty bookshelf.
When Percy had first packed his things and stormed out, he didn’t pack many books. Over the years after he repaired his relationship with them, he’d gone back a few times for them. Now the shelves were all but empty, coated with a thin layer of dust.
He feels… well he’s not sure how he feels. He’d never imagine in a million years he’d ever been coming back home to the Burrow. Especially under these circumstances. He wasn’t sure.
There were a lot of unknowns. Like; what would happen when Audrey came home and read the note and saw everything packed away? Would she cry? Would she get angry? Would she start throwing things around? Would she try to look for them?
What would he do about the house? It was in both their names. He had been able to re-route his paycheck to his own account, but there was still a joint savings account they both had access to. What would Percy say when people asked after his wife? That they were what- separated?
He’s been standing staring at the empty bookshelf so long he forgets his father is there. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears his father clear his throat.
“Sorry.” Percy mutters.
“It’s quite fine, Percy.” Dad says gently. “I’ll take the girl thing’s to the attic. Take your time.”
There’s shuffling movement and suddenly Percy is alone in his dusty childhood bedroom with most of his worldly possessions and a wedding ring on his finger that feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. He stares down at his left hand. He and Audrey had been so broke when they had first gotten married, they had bought each other rings from a table at a flea market. When they were more stable, Audrey had surprised Percy matching ones- solid gold bands, on their anniversary.
He flips his left hand over a few times, studying the ring. It wasn’t as shiny and perfect as it had once been. The shape of it had warped with age and use. It had scratches on it from constant wear. He’s not sure he’s taken it off since that night.
With a shaking right hand, he reaches for the ring, letting the pads of his fingers rest on the cool metal just for a moment. Then he pulls it off. His left hand feels odd. Not painful or anything like he’d be half expecting. But different. Strange.
Lighter.
He holds his wedding band up to the light of the afternoon from the garden. The gnome are back, given the noise outside. But it’s like he’s been dunked underwater. This was his wedding ring. This was his commitment of forever.
Percy slips the wedding band into his pocket. He wishes he could open the window and huck it into the garden. He wishes he could melt it with his wand. He wishes he could just throw it away. He wishes he could even just leave it on the dusty bookshelf. But he’s entirely too selfish for that, so he slips it into his pocket, trying to ignore the shame of being unwilling to part with it.
The first few days at the Burrow are fine. It was the weekend the first day, and Percy had gotten permission to pull the girls from the school a week early, giving them some vague excuse of a family holiday. However, when he goes into the office to sign some forms, the receptionist is the same one who had helped him get the girls when Audrey hadn’t picked them up and she gives him a pitying look that makes him was to throw a chair through the window of the school and vomit all at the same time.
For their parts, the girls seem unbothered. They knew their mother was away for business, and Percy had told them he decided to let them out of school early for the summer holiday, so they were happy as clams. They end up doing what Percy and all his siblings did when they were growing up- waking up for a family breakfast, some chores, and then spending all day outside in the blazing summer sun. The woods around the Burrow were quite large, and there was even a stream and small pound toward the end of the property. To a child, there were a million things to do and explore. On the first full day, the twins had come up covered in mud and gunk from playing, gleefully shouting over each other at the dinner table how they had discovered a log full of tadpoles and had tasked themselves for taking care of them.
Percy was too preoccupied with trying to finish all the final details to spend very much time in his own head. He first had to contact a solicitor- divorce wasn’t uncommon anymore but the cost of the services for a half-born solicitor who knew both the wizarding and muggle legal systems had Percy wondering if he needed to sell a kidney or something.
When he met with her, an older woman with blunt eyes and salt-pepper hair and explain to her in the vaguest of terms why he was separating from his wife, she’d just sighed and waved off any attempts to pay up front. She said she’d take her cut from the alimony settlement, whatever that was, and told him to not worry about it. If they had a good case, she’s told him, and he was willing to negotiate on some things, he may get Audrey to end up covering his legal bills.
When she asked about custody, Percy hesitated. Audrey had never been violent with the girls, but she’d been reckless with their care. When he bit his lip, she took off her large glasses, set them aside, and patted his hand.
“Look Mr. Weasley, I’ve seen cases like this before. Think about their best interest rather than your feelings. Would you feel safe leaving your children in her care for an extended time?”
He said he did, but she very clearly didn’t believe him. She wrote it down anyway, muttering something under her breath about 50/50 and going from there.
The banks were another problem. Percy had been able to change the muggle accounts easy enough, from Gringotts was another story. The damn bankers kept saying things about bloodlines and legality, until Percy finally got a straight answer- until they were magically divorced, it was impossible to close their joint account or remove one’s key. They did let Percy clear out about half of it into a new trust account for the girl’s care, only giving himself and his parents permission to access it. He made himself very clear that no one else was to be permitted, including his wife.
Then came the deed to the house. They had bought it as a fixer-upper outright as a former council home. They shared it. When he asked a real estate agent, he advised on contacting a solicitor for mediation.
The entire thing was draining- mentally and physically. He walked all across London and Diagon Alley- he’d packed a lot of the girl thing’s, but there were other things to consider. Clothes, mostly, as they were growing like weed and would likely outgrow the ones he’d packed. He’d gotten toys as well, since they had left several behind, and toiletries, and anything else he’d thought he’d need.
Then it was financial planning- he was skint without a dual income. The girl’s school fees would drain his coffers, and while his parents had invited them to stay indefinitely, he’d still felt awful. His father was close to retirement- the last thing his parents needed were more people living at home.
At the end of the sixth day of living at his parents, he wearily trudges through the door of the Burrow just as the sun is setting with a stack of paperwork under his arms when he sees his mother standing next to the telephone, a tight look on her face.
After that disastrous attempt to call Harry when he was at the Dursleys, his father had gotten the kid to take him aside and teach them how to use a proper telephone. Percy had almost forgotten they’d had it- he never called them the muggle way. Something in her pinches, tight expressions left him weak in the arms. He sets down the papers onto the kitchen table.
“I don’t know where they are, Audrey.” His mother hisses into the phone, and Percy feels all of the blood drain from his face. It was the sixth day- Audrey was back from her trip and must have found the empty house.
And the letter.
His mother pauses, listening as Audrey says something else. She draws in a sharp, deep breath, apparently ready to start telling her off, when Percy lunges for her, gripping the hand that’s not holding the phone tight. He pleads with her wordlessly to not saying anything- they had discussed this before. According to his newly acquired legal help, it was best looking for his side if everyone, including his family, stayed calm.
His mother swallows roughly.
“I. don’t. know. If I find out, you shall be the first to know. Good evening.”
She slams the phone down onto the receiver so hard Percy swears the plastic crack. He can only stare at the phone. He’d expected this, of course. That was what this whole week had been about, preparing for this. But he still feels like he’s just fell a hundred feet off his broom.
“Percy, love?” his Mum asks gently. He pulls his gaze from the phone to her. She opens her mouth to say something, but the phone starts to ring again. Mum answers it, listening for a moment before immediately hanging it up again. It’s not even five second later is begins to ring again and she huffs out a frustrated breath. She picks up once more, listens to the other end, then slams the phone back into the receiver. It rings again, and Percy can only stare as his mother whips out of wand, points it at the phone, and says:
“Confrigo!”
The spell flies around the room, explodes the mirror on the wall and ricochets back, bouncing from floor to ceiling until it hits its target. The phone is blasted off the wall in an explosion of heat. It basically cracks into two pieces, hitting the ground into slightly melty plastic chunks.
Percy’s so startled by his mother’s use of such a violent, unpredictable spell, more suited for dueling rather than being used in the home, he doesn’t even hear the back door open.
“Molly!” his dad says, his tone a bit disapproving. His mother simply pockets her wand and brushes the hair away from her red face. “You could have just turned it off.”
“Don’t be daft, Arthur.” She says in reply before turning to face her son.
“Alright, love?”
Percy swallows, feeling a bit weak at the knees. His mother coos at him and windlessly summons a chair for him to sit in. The solid wood is steadying, as is his mother’s comforting hand on his shoulder. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tight.
“This is a disaster.”
His mother squeezes his shoulder in a way that should be comforting but feels like the grip of a vice.
“It’ll be okay, Percy. Even if now, it doesn’t seem like it.”
Percy pushes the palms of his heels into his eyes hard enough he starts to see sparks and specks of grey light.
“I don’t even know how to explain this to the girls. They’ll ask questions I don’t know I can answer.”
It’s quite a moment, then Mum sighs and pulls up a chair to sit next to them. Percy looks up at her, his vision blurry. She glances at her husband.
“Are the girls in the garden?”
“Yes.”
“Can you keep them outside a bit longer, dear?”
“Of course.” His dad says before leaving. Percy hears the door to the backyard swing shut and his father call out to the girls, who squeal something intelligible, and it gets quiet. His mum waves her wand, and the kettle floats toward them and starts pour hot water into two cups. Percy watches as his mother adds tea bags to the cups. She waves her wand and kettle floats back to the stovetop.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, like it’s not the obvious thing in the world that he’s feeling way out of his depth. He leans back into his chair, his stomach aching in a way hey hasn’t felt since the war.
“I don’t know. Stressed.”
His mum sets the teapot down gently, her movements deliberate, calm—like she’s trying to give him a piece of the peace he doesn’t know how to find right now. The scent of the tea fills the air, a familiar warmth that doesn’t quite reach the cold, heavy pit in Percy’s stomach.
"That's understandable, love," she says softly. "But sometimes, when we’re in the middle of a storm, it’s hard to see that the rain will eventually stop."
Percy rubs his temples, trying to push away the headache building behind his eyes. "I just feel like I failed them, Mum. I... I promised the girls that everything would be okay. And now… I don’t even know how to explain to them that it’s not okay. I don’t even know how I ended up here." His voice cracks slightly, and he curses under his breath, suddenly unfairly furious with himself for showing weakness.
"You didn’t fail them, Percy." His mum says firmly, her words deliberate. "You didn’t make this decision lightly. This isn’t a failure. It’s just… the difficult part of growing, of knowing when to step away from something that isn’t right for you, no matter how much you wish it was."
"But how do I even start to explain that to them? The girls aren’t stupid, Mum. They’ll know. They’ll feel the change, and they'll have questions I can’t answer." He lets out a breath.
"I feel like I’m about to lose everything.”
His mother reaches over, placing her hand over his, warm and grounding. "You’re not losing everything. What’s important is that they see you trying. They need to see that you care enough to make it better. And that’s exactly what you’re doing, Percy. You’re making sure they have what they need, even if it’s not in the way you imagined."
He looks down at their hands, his own much larger than hers, and wonders when the hell that happened.
"I don’t even know if I’m doing the right thing. Like I should have fixed it, done more… but maybe that’s just because I don’t want to face the truth."
"You don’t have to have all the answers, love." His mum gives him a small smile, her eyes kind, though there’s a trace of worry there, too at his words. She clearly wants to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, but somehow had the better sense to not do so.
"Not everything is about fixing. Sometimes it’s about accepting that things aren’t perfect, and doing the best you can. And you have always done that. Always.”
Percy squeezes her hand, grateful for the comfort. "I don’t even know where to start. How do I make it right with them? How do I…" he trails off, rolling his shoulder as it sends a ache through him.
"Start small. One thing at a time. With the girls, it’s important to keep things as normal as possible. They’re still so young, Percy. You’ll need to reassure them that they’re loved, that they’re safe. The rest of it… it’ll come. But don’t rush it."
He nods slowly, though a knot remains in his chest. "I just don’t know if I can do this. What if I mess it all up?"
"You won’t," she says, her voice gentle but sure. "You’re stronger than you think. And you have people who love you, people who’ll help when you need it. You’re not alone in this, Percy."
He looks up at her, swallowing hard, feeling the ache of it all. "I don’t know how to do this, Mum. I don’t know how to be this… this kind of parent. This kind of person."
"You don’t have to know it all at once," she repeats. "One step at a time. Just do what you can, and trust that you’re doing the right thing, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. The fact that you care so deeply about getting it right… that’s what matters. And that’s what they’ll see.”
He takes a long breath, the weight in his chest easing just a little. Maybe his mum’s right. Maybe it wasn’t about having all the answers, just about making sure the girls knew they were loved and safe. That was the one thing he would give them, no matter what.
Percy looks over at his mother, feeling a little more grounded than he had moments ago, though still lost in the sea of uncertainty. Bills, lawyers, documents, Audrey. All of it buried itself a little deeper into his brain.
"Thanks, Mum."
She gives him a smile. "You’re welcome. Now, go fetch your father and the girls. Merlin knows he’s taken them to the shed and is probably talking to them about rubber ducks or the like.”
With a slow nod, Percy pushes himself to his feet, feeling the heaviness alleviate some. He had thought about it for a long while. Audrey had basically made it impossible to seek anyone out but her. Maybe it had all started with Penelope, when she kept encouraging him to push people that he cared about away. It had just been so long since he’s felt anything like this. Supported. Loved unconditionally. With Audrey there were always conditions.
As he walks toward the door, he hears his mother’s voice, soft behind him.
"And Percy…"
He pauses.
"Don’t forget to give yourself some grace, too."
He nods again, though his throat tightens, and then heads outside. The Burrow’s garden, bathed in the late afternoon sun, is so peaceful compared to what’s been happening. But it’s a start.
It has to be.