Challenge #39
Title: Cranberry Sauce
Rating: G
Pairings: None - starring Percy and Molly
Notes: This is possibly the sappiest thing I have ever written. Ever. I actually think I started to tear up; how nutty is that? :)



Tweed jackets never felt the same as sweaters.

He tried to push back the sleeves but they wouldn't stay, and stiff brown fabric brushed the inside of the pot he was using to heat cranberry sauce. He swore under his breath and picked at the sticky redness with his fingers, not noticing that the sauce was beginning to bubble menacingly and burn into the bottom of the pot. "Wingardium leviosa!" he yelled, and it lifted off of the stove, flames shooting out of the burner and licking at the bottom of the floating instrument. Another flick of his wand sprayed it with water, and the fire fizzled into a whisp of steam, water splashing onto tweed.

He stood there for a moment, jacket wet, glasses fogged with steam. Forgetting his task, he dropped his wand to his side in defeat and the sauce-filled pot crashed to the floor, spilling onto his shoes.

*****

Molly levitated a perfectly roasted turkey from its spot in the oven and onto a large serving plate, pretending that she couldn't hear the things her children were saying in the next room.

"I don't know why Mum is setting an extra spot at the table again," Bill muttered. "As if things aren't bad enough as it is without reminding everyone."

"Maybe he'll show up this year," Ginny suggested, but her tone contained not a single glimmer of hope.

"Ginny, the git sent back the sweater she made him last year," George interrupted angrily. "I hope he doesn't come. It would certainly ruin my Christmas."

"Don't say that! Think how happy it would make Mum!"

Fred interrupted this time, nodding agreeably at his twin. "Actually, I hope he shows up so I can punch him in the teeth."

In the kitchen, Molly blinked back tears.

*****

Percy looked into the mirror, straightening a slightly red-stained sleeve and pushing his glasses up onto his nose. "It's very nice to meet you," he told his reflection. "I'm Percy Weasley, Minister of Magic."

The mirror-image frowned at him.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "That's Minister Weasley."

Still not right.

Slumping his shoulders, he looked back up and said meekly, "I'm Percy Weatherby, Minister of Magic."

Shrugging off the jacket, he gave the mirror a defeatist smile and sighed. "I'm Percy. Just... Percy. Weasley."

And then he realized that he was late for something important.

*****

Molly tried. She always tried to push the sadness over one missing child inside the joy of having the rest of them with her.

"I feel so blessed," she murmured as they crowded the dinner table, and Arthur slipped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing softly.

"Happy Christmas," he whispered.

"It is a happy thing indeed, to have my family around me." Her voice was loud with only a slight quiver to its joy.

Her children raised their glasses and all gave different toasts.

"To family!"

"To Christmas!"

"To happiness!"

"To being together!"

Suddenly, another voice joined the chorus from the other side of the room. "To Mum."

Eyes snapped in his direction, and it took a great deal of willpower for Percy to stop himself from fleeing.

"I'm..." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Before he could gauge the reactions of the others he found himself enveloped in a hug. The familiar smell of cinnamon and dish soap fed him like fuel, and he buried his head in his mother's hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered again.

She ignored his apology and pulled away, grasping his hand. "Come have some cranberry sauce, Percy," she said, tears brimming her eyes. "I know it's your favorite."