Daddies Who Cry [Harry Potter Fanfiction]

Daddies Who Cry

A/N: So, this is my entry into the Wattpad Oneshot Fanfiction contest. It's a Harry Potter one-shot, and it focuses on the after effects of the war and how it has affected the lives of those involved. It stars Molly Weasley (the daughter of Percy and Audrey Weasley) and Percy Weasley her father. Please enjoy!

May 2nd, 2010

Five-year-old Molly Weasley followed her mother Audrey out of her younger sister's room. Lucy had just gone down for her nap, and Molly was lacking her playmate. She needed something to do, or Audrey would "suggest" that she take a rest of her own.

Where was her father?

Molly walked down the stairs and in the direction of Percy's study. The door was closed. To an older person, that would mean she should knock before entering, but little Molly didn't think of that. She reached up and turned the knob.

A shocking sight greeted her.

Her father, the man Molly looked up to, was sitting in his chair—the large chair that Molly loved to spin in while he was at work—crying. Daddies didn't cry. What was happening?

"Daddy? Are you all right?"

Percy looked up, startled. He hadn't considered the fact that closed doors don't usually deter small children. Growing up with Fred and George had instilled that into him from a young age. But in the midst of his tears, he had forgotten.

"Why are you crying Daddy?" asked Molly. She pondered him with wide eyes.

"Daddy's just thinking," Percy answered, placing the moving scrapbook in his arms onto the desk carefully. "Do you know what today is?"

Molly nodded. "Uh-huh. It's Victoire's birthday. We're going to Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur's house for dinner Did you forget, Daddy? That's all right. I made her a macaroni necklace. You can say it's from you too, if you'd like. I won't tell anyone."

With a slight chuckle in spite of his tears, Percy held out his arms for his daughter. She happily clambered into his lap and picked up the book he had put down.

"What's this?"

"I'll show you." Percy opened the scrapbook. All Molly saw was red.

She grabbed a fistful of her own hair. "It matches," she said after a moment. Molly pointed to a picture of a family in front of some pyramids. "Who are those people?"

Percy sighed. He had been expecting this question. Willing himself not to cry again, he named the people in the picture. "Look, that's Uncle George, and Uncle Ron, and Uncle Charlie, and Nana Molly, and Grandpa Arthur, and Aunt Ginny, and Uncle Bill, and there's me, and..." his voice trailed off, cracking.

Molly was a smart girl. She realized her father had skipped someone on the end. "I know that, but who's next to you? He looks 'zactly like Uncle George."

"You know how your friend Lysander has a twin brother?"

"Uh-huh," said Molly. "But they don't like the same things. Lysander likes porridge and Lorcan likes pancakes. They tried to get me to say which one was better, but I like pancakes and porridge equally. What about you?"

Percy gave a soft smile as his daughter readjusted herself in his lap so she could see his face. "Well, sweetheart, like Lysander, Uncle George had a twin. They weren't like Lysander and Lorcan; they loved the same things and were inseparable."

Molly mulled this over for a moment. "He had a twin? Where did he go?"

Wrapping his arms firmly around Molly, Percy began a story. He told her about he-who-must-not-be-named, and how Uncle Harry defeated him when he was just a baby. Then he talked about Fred and George Weasley, two of the best people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing, and how Fred was stolen from them by the same man who took the lives of Uncle Harry's parents. It was a dark tale, and Molly listened eagerly in spite of her obvious fright. When Percy was done, Molly stared at him with wide eyes.