Title: Span

Disclaimer: I do not claim the Harry Potter universe as mine, and I make no money off this.

Pairings: Percy/Penelope, Percy/Audrey

Rating: T

Warnings: My own characterisation of Audrey, since she has no canonical characterisation. I've never read any Audrey fics, so it's almost guaranteed that this fic won't match fanon.

Summary: In which Percy misdiagnoses the warm feeling in his chest several times throughout the course of his life before finally realising what it is.

Word Count: 2,914

Team Prompt: Molly cooking. (So this has to at least make a cameo.)

Author's Note: This was written for Round 2 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 2.

I have taken a leaf out of asebi's book and used the ".x.x." to create spacing in between sections, since I have the terrible tendency to forget to add in line breaks, which causes confusion. I hope this is aesthetically pleasing enough.

Some changes have happened in my life recently, and this story was inspired by said changes. I hope you'll enjoy the result.

.x.x.

I dedicate this piece to G.A.

.x.x.

Span

The very first time Percy encountered the warm feeling in his chest, he had been four years old.

"Percy! Don't you dare run outside without your jumper," scolded his mother just as he reached the door.

He huffed and turned around to face her. "But Mum! Bill's waiting!"

His mother didn't bother to respond to this protest, marching up to him with jumper in hand. "Lift your arms."

Percy pouted, but he lifted his arms automatically. He was still at the age where her voice alone had the power to move him.

As she leaned in, he could smell flour and vanilla, as well as the sweet scent that was just Mum. His stomach rumbled slightly, already dreaming of the holiday treats she would feed them all later.

(He quietly hoped she couldn't hear the rumble, though—he really, really wanted to build that snowman with Bill.)

She guided the jumper onto his arms and torso, and he stood still, wincing as the wool grazed over his face. Gently, she pulled the fabric down and made sure to straighten out his hem as she did so.

"There. Now you're warm, and handsome to boot," she said as she let go of his hem.

Then she kissed his forehead.

He blinked and stared, even as she opened the door for him. Had she ever kissed his forehead before? He couldn't remember. Usually she was so occupied with the toddler twin terrors that it seemed a miracle she noticed him at all.

As he stepped out the door, with her watching him warily, warmth blossomed in his chest.

She had been right—the jumper did make a difference. He didn't feel cold at all.

.x.x.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

As he gently pulled off the Hat, he looked over at the Gryffindor table, where Bill and Charlie cheered for him, waving their hands ecstatically.

The entire train ride leading up to this moment had been fraught with worry—what if he didn't make it into Gryffindor? He didn't know anyone here, and Bill had been deliberately vague about how Hogwarts worked, just to mess with him. The thought of figuring out all the rules and procedures by himself had been both exciting and abhorrent, and he had made contingency plan after contingency plan in case he ended up in any of the other Houses.

Now, though, he could discard all those plans and walk proudly to where he belonged.

When he reached the table, Charlie pulled him in for a brief hug before forcing him to sit between him and Bill.

Sitting there, with Charlie's arm draped lightly around his shoulders, Percy stared curiously at the plain wooden table in front of him. Although the table was not decorated with the Gryffindor colours, he still felt the warmth of red and gold surrounding him.

It must have been a spell of some sort, he concluded.

.x.x.

He never knew how his mother did it—even though she had served them all eggs and toast for breakfast, she managed to keep track of each one of their individual preferences.

Sighing contentedly, he poked a hole in his eggs over easy, letting the yolk ooze out onto the toast beneath it. This was his favourite part of the day, the reason why Hogwarts's food, no matter how splendidly prepared, would never compare to the food at home.

Just then, there was a tremendous tapping at the window.

His father turned and smiled at the sight of several owls demanding entrance. "Ah! That must be Hogwarts!"

When he opened the window, they all flew in, depositing letters onto their laps. Eggs and toast were temporarily abandoned, and the room was filled with the sound of tearing parchment.

Percy quickly scanned the contents of his own letter, heart hammering. He was going to enter his fifth year, so there was a chance that—

He jumped out of his seat. "Yes! Mother! Father! I've made prefect! I've made prefect!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fred and George mouthing, "Mother! Father!" mockingly, but he didn't care. He would rather them mock him about his accomplishments than his mannerisms—the pride was enough to make their jabs seem petty.

His mother moved over and hugged him, and his father thumped him on the back.

"Oh Percy," she exclaimed. "I knew you'd make it! My son is brilliant!"

"We should get you a present for the occasion. A proper prefect deserves an owl of his own, don't you think, Molly?"

Percy looked up at his father and smiled.

Despite the fact that the twins were now grumbling about the owl, Percy felt very warm as he basked in the summer sunlight streaming in from the window.

.x.x.

When he got the official Ministry owl, he rushed downstairs, not even caring if his hair got dishevelled in the process.

The only person home at the time was his mother, but he was perfectly happy with that. He just needed one voice of earnest of approval for this brilliant moment, and her voice was the most unconditionally supportive one he had ever known, even more than Penelope's voice.

"Mother! Guess what?"

He found her in the kitchen, chopping carrots by hand. She had once explained to him that although she could easily use magic for this mechanical process, it sometimes made her feel better to use her own hands and control the shape of the food. This made perfect sense to him—he liked hand-writing notes for the same reason, instead of using magical quills.

She looked up at him and smiled without pausing in her chopping. "What is it, Percy?"

"I got the job!" He waved the letter. "You are now looking at the newest employee of the Department of International Magical Cooperation!"

She laid the knife down and wiped her hands on her apron before pulling him in for a warm hug.

He was happy enough to hug her back, absentmindedly noticing that she was softer than he remembered. Her warmth enveloped him like the smell of the stew being heated on the stove.

"I'm going to make you proud, Mother," he whispered. "I will earn a good salary and take care of you."

He had no idea why he was saying such a cheesy line, but he couldn't find it in himself to regret it—he really felt this way.

She chuckled. "Well, one day you'll have your own family to take care of, too, so I don't expect you to buy me the world. And as for making me proud…you already do."

He was trying to come up with an eloquent response when she turned towards the clock.

"Oh! What's your father doing on his way home already?" She pulled away. "I need to finish this. Would you like anything special to celebrate, though? I think I can manage something extra."

He patted her shoulder. "Whatever you're making already looks good, Mum."

Her eyes brightened, and he knew it was because he hadn't called her "Mum" in years.

Well, today he just felt like it.

The warmth of her hug lingered.

.x.x.

He sighed quietly to himself as he walked through the streets of Muggle London with Penelope.

There had been a point in their relationship when he would hold her hand without thought, without hesitation, happy to show off to the world that he had a girlfriend, a pretty blonde one at that.

Now, though, the thought of holding her hand exhausted him. She walked much too briskly, always eager to reach the next destination without fuss.

There had been a point in his life when this brisk pace of hers had excited him, for he wanted to move quickly, too. He had wanted to soar to the top of the Ministry and provide for everyone, protect them with his powerful status. The Weasley name would grow esteemed through his hard work and effort, he had thought. And together, with his beautiful wife, he was going to conquer the wizarding world.

Now he felt differently. After almost losing his family to nothing more than his own pride, he just wanted to stop and take in the sights around him, to humble himself.

She was moving too damn fast.

As he turned the street corner, trying to catch up to her, he heard the beginning notes of a violin song.

Intrigued, he paused and turned around.

A lone violinist stood in front of a theatre entrance, his eyes closed as he felt his way through a melancholic melody. In front of him, his case lay open in the hopes of garnering generous donations from people passing by.

Percy stood with the forming crowd, wishing he had Muggle money on hand. He and Penelope had not planned to buy anything today; they were just here for a scenic walk before heading to her parents' house.

He didn't feel like walking anymore, though—he just wanted the scenic part now.

As the song washed over him, he didn't care that he couldn't recognise the tune. The tune wrapped itself around him, and he felt warmth blossoming in his chest that he couldn't explain away with an excuse now. After all, it was a windy and dark evening, and he should have been shivering, but instead he just stood there, clutching the sweetness in his chest.

Suddenly he felt a rough grip on his left sleeve.

"Percy! What are you doing? You know my parents are waiting!"

Jarred out of the listening experience, he turned to look at her.

Her cheeks were red from the cold, and her eyes were blinking rapidly as she tugged on his sleeve.

This high-strung woman had once been a bold, spontaneous girl, waltzing up to him as he patrolled the corridors, hoping he'd say yes to a trip to Hogsmeade.

He stared into her blue eyes, trying to recall if he'd ever felt the chest warmth around her. To be honest, he had been so excited that someone liked him that he'd never paused to consider what he felt about her. The excitement of having someone that wrote him love letters and snogged him in empty classrooms had been enough for him back then.

It was not enough now.

He wanted someone that made him feel as warm as that violin.

As the music continued to play in the background, he yanked his arm out of her grip.

"I'm sorry, Penny," he said simply.

Even as he walked away from her stunned face, he still felt the warmth in his chest from the music, bitter but also just sweet enough to keep him going.

.x.x.

Working for the Department of Magical Transportation had never been one of his dreams, but that was only because it had never occurred to him. He quite liked the position; one of the many perks was that he got free tickets to Quidditch matches on occasion to inspect brooms in action.

Sure, he doubted he'd become Minister for Magic anytime soon, but he was happy to work under Shacklebolt—the Minister was a very capable man, and he knew this first-hand.

As he settled into the conference room for the next meeting, a witch with dark purple robes walked in and waved her wand, setting up an image for her presentation.

He glanced at her badge. From the angle he was sitting, he couldn't quite make out her last name, but he saw her first name.

Audrey.

He nodded and pulled out a scroll of parchment, writing, "Presentation by Audrey." Later on, he'd fill in the last name once he figured it out.

She finished the wand-waving and turned to look at him, her lips curving into a smile. He knew he was ridiculously early, since he was the only other person in the room, but he had never been ashamed of his punctuality, and he was not going to start now.

"Well, hello there. I think your name was Percy, right?"

"Says so right on the badge," he replied, puffing out his chest a bit.

"Heh. So it does. You're new to the department, right? How do you like your new job so far?"

"It's quite orderly here," he said approvingly. "You have no idea what a mess the other departments can be. Did you know that the Department of International Magical Cooperation doesn't even have a proper HR group?"

She grinned. "Really, now? The absolute horror!"

He noted that she had a really nice smile. How had he not noticed her in the Ministry before?

They continued their conversation to pass the time before the others arrived, and he could not help but notice—with some dismay—that his chest felt a little warm.

.x.x.

He lay in bed, clutching his chest.

He knew that he should be getting ready for dinner at the Burrow with the rest of the family, but he wanted to give himself a few moments to explore this warmth.

This was terrible. Wonderful. Terrible.

He had not planned to pursue a romance after the disaster that was Penny. A couple of women had asked him out before, but he had felt nothing for them, and he did not want to go with the flow anymore. He just wanted to take some time to propel himself in the direction he wanted to go.

This feeling, however, was not something he could ignore. He had been ignoring it for years, not wanting to get horribly sentimental about anything. After all, expressing happiness only opened him up to mockery.

Now, however, the warmth in his chest was spanning his body, both lifting him up and making him feel like he was plummeting.

It was a frightening feeling, but he also wanted to embrace it.

He got out of bed and penned a letter.

Though he could not meet her today due to the family dinner, he was hoping to see her tomorrow.

The warmth intensified at the thought of seeing her smile.

.x.x.

He had been afraid to promise her forever. After all, he had promised Penelope forever, and he had ended up growing distant from her.

Yet when Audrey smiled, she turned any setting into a warm summer afternoon.

He often found himself cupping her cheeks and whispering, "Are you real?" Because she couldn't be. There was no way someone that wonderful could exist; he had to be hallucinating under the effect of some potion.

Each time he asked, though, she simply laughed and said, "Yeah."

Just that one simple word would then set off a frenzy of kisses and hugs as he tried to share his warmth with her.

Dates with her were incredible. Unlike with Penny, he never had to plan anything elaborate or even concrete. They would just set a place and time to meet and then take things from there.

He never thought that he could have so much fun on a park bench with someone, doing nothing but talking for hours as the sun moved through the sky, but they had done this several times without getting bored.

Once, they had even snuck into a Muggle library and read out loud from the trashiest book they could find, giggling at the ridiculous diction and the bluntly written emotions. When they couldn't take it anymore, they collapsed in the corner, laughing and kissing until an old man cleared his throat at them for blocking his way.

Normally, he would have felt embarrassed at being caught in such a silly position, but he never felt embarrassed with Audrey.

Several months into the relationship, he was walking with her down the street, holding her hand, when they encountered a saxophonist.

He faltered. Would it be okay if he stopped to listen to the song? They did have to get back to the Ministry for a meeting soon.

She answered his unspoken question by pulling him to a stop, digging through her purse for some coins.

"Bugger, I wish I had more Muggle money; haven't been to the bank yet," she muttered as she tossed the coins into the hat. "You're incredible, sir," she added to the saxophonist.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind stopping to listen to this a bit," she murmured. "I think we can afford five more minutes, right?"

He smiled and kissed her temple, finally realising the name for the warmth in his chest.

"I love you, Audrey."

"I love you, too, Percy."

The words felt right, and that was all that mattered.

.x.x.

"Why are you nervous, honey? I'm the one who should be nervous."

Percy shook his head at her, even as he buttoned up his coat. "They'll be nice to you, since you're a guest, but they'll definitely give me a wind up when your back is turned. They've been dying to meet my girlfriend for yonks."

She laughed. "Do you think they'll approve of me dating their precious stuffed shirt?"

He stuck out his tongue, something he'd only ever do in her presence. "They already think you're mental for spending time with me."

She leaned forward and wrapped a scarf around him. He could smell the scent of basil from the soup she made for lunch today.

"Even if I'm mental, please don't take me to the looney bin. I rather like this condition."

He kissed her cheek. "Well, have it your way, then. Ready?"

"Ready. I've been looking forward to tasting your mum's famous cooking, anyway."

As they Disapparated, the sound of his laughter lingered.