Chapters will be short, lengths similiar to my story, The Warmth of Summer. Don't ask for longer chapters, its not going to happen.

Percy stood awkwardly, his glasses askew, his usually perfect hair mussed and sloppy, his pyjama top was ripped to reveal one toned shoulder. Next to him, Fred looked no better. They had been fighting, wrestling, in the way that brothers do; enemies one minute, best friends the next.

They stood in the kitchen, heads hung; listening as their mother ranted and raved about fighting and more importantly, fighting inside the house.

"There is a baby in the house!" she shrieked. "He's impressionable. Two year olds soak up everything around them and what do you think he's going to learn when he sees his two uncles fighting like a bunch of teenagers!"

"Mum!" Fred protested. "Teddy fights anyway. You should see him and Harry wrestle."

"There's a difference and you know it!"

Percy coughed, unconvincingly covering the chuckle that was threatening to escape. He knew it wasn't funny but he had spent twenty-four years being the responsible one and every now and then it was nice to play at being a kid again.

Luckily, the opening door saved him from further chastising. Hermione stepped through, her hair blowing in all directions, and slammed the door shut behind her.

"I found them Molly," she said and threw a stack of mail down on kitchen table.

Molly picked them up, the fighting men momentarily forgotten. "Thank you, dear. Where were they?"

"Two were in the garden, up a tree; four were desperately attempting to avoid the pond."

His mother nodded and continued looking threw the mail.

Hermione pulled one last letter out of her pocket and handed it to Fred with a wink. She then noticed the state of the men. "What on earth have you two been doing?"

Percy blushed at the critical, assessing look she was giving him. He became self-conscious that half of his chest was exposed and lamely attempted to tug the material back in place. Just because his brothers insisted on parading their bodies about, didn't mean he desired to do the same.

Hermione stepped closer to him, her eyes raking over his body sending his blush from his face to every square inch of his pale skin.

"Nice tat," she whispered before turning and heading upstairs. "I'm having a hot shower!" she called over her shoulder. "That wind was freezing."

Percy looked down and sure enough, the tattoo that he had gone to great lengths to hide from his mother was clearly visible through the thin white fabric of his shirt.

It had been on a whim, him and the twins had gone together, not long after the war, and they had each gotten a Latin phrase tattooed across their ribs. His read, Nil Illegitimus Carborundum.

He nervously crossed his arms over his chest, hoping his mother hadn't noticed it yet but she was still distracted by the mail. He turned to Fred but his brother had disappeared. He was tossing up whether to flee or not when he mother stopped him.

"This one is for you, dear. From Penelope, I'd guess."

Percy blushed anew and accepted the proffered letter. It was pink and smelled of the perfume Penny insisted on spraying on every correspondence, be it to the ministry, to the newspaper or to him. But what could he say? He loved her…