Work Text:
Molly heaped the packages into a basket. Most were wrapped in bright paper, all except the last one, which she still held in her hand. That one was loosely wrapped in brown paper with an address on it, though she hadn’t sealed it yet. She weighed it in her hand for a moment, then put it down beside the basket. She couldn’t decide. She’d knitted all the jumpers and wrapped them up, and she still couldn’t decide. With a slight shake of her head, she went to fill the kettle, though she couldn’t help her eyes drifting back to the parcel as she waited for the water to boil. The jumper inside was a dignified dark green with a scarlet quill on it. She thought it might be the best jumper she’d made this year.
Percy had slammed the door in her face when she went to his flat.
She poured the water into the teapot and thought about shouting up the stairs to see if Sirius wanted a cup. The one good thing about being here at Grimmauld Place (and it really was grim) was that there was always company, even if it was only Sirius or Kreacher. Since Ginny had left for Hogwarts, Molly had found herself lonely too often. Not now, though. Now she needed to think. She left the lid off the teapot and watched her tea brew. Of course, it was only the steam that made her face hot and wet, and only the steam that she swiped at with her sleeve. She poured the tea out while it was still weaker than she liked it, and added plenty of milk.
That was how Percy used to drink it.
She carried the cup over to the table and set it down a little too hard. Hot liquid splashed onto her hands, and she thought that perhaps she deserved it. If only she’d been a better mother. Talked to him a little more. Loved him a little harder. Helped him more, hugged him tighter, guided him more carefully, scolded him more discerningly. Something. Despite everything that had happened, he didn’t seem to have understood just what was at stake, what might happen to their world. She should have explained it better, stopped Arthur when he got angry at Percy.
He’d slammed the door. It still hurt in her stomach when she thought about it.
Where had they gone wrong? Arthur thought they couldn’t have stopped him. Remus assured her that he’d come round in the end. Albus looked grave and pitying. Even Tonks had suggested that it was probably just a phase, and Molly smiled slightly, remembering the awkward punch Tonks had given her arm when she said it. But she knew that somehow she had failed her boy. Why else would he have cut them so thoroughly out of his life? He must have been unhappy for a long time and she had never realised.
Molly drank Percy’s tea.
She didn’t know what to do. She’d knitted him a jumper every year of his life, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him not having one now. What if nobody sent him anything? He’d never seemed to have many friends at the Ministry, and she didn’t think he’d kept up with most of his Hogwarts friends either. On the other hand, it was painfully clear, now, that she’d never known everything about him. Perhaps he had more friends than she knew. Perhaps he’d sit in front of another fire, singing and eating and laughing. Perhaps a jumper with a quill on the front would just remind him of his anger and pain, and cast an unhappy shadow over his Christmas.
He had slammed the door in her face.
But Percy still deserved to know that his family loved him. Molly swallowed the last of the tea. They did still love him, even the twins, and he should know it. She put the cup down with decision. She’d send him the jumper, just the jumper, so that he didn’t feel as though a reply was expected. But he’d know. It would be an unspoken message. Relieved, she picked the parcel up again, neatened the brown paper, knotted string around it, and placed it on the top of the pile in the basket.