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Private message to Percy Weasley
Dec. 11th, 2012 08:05 pmI hope you are feeling less distraught now. I certainly don't blame you for being upset, son, as it sounded like a most unpleasant meeting. It seems to me quite an unkind and untrue jab on Malfoy's part to imply that your situation at home is affecting your work. I know perfectly well how conscientious you are.
Really, Percy, mightn't it be more likely that he's being just a tad unreasonable?
Penelope Clearwater is a good-hearted girl, and your mother and I have become quite fond of her. I must say, I find Lucius Malfoy's insinuations concerning her motivations, background and character to be most unfair. (And how is it his business, anyway?) But more than that, I'm troubled, I must admit, by some things you said during our conversation. I think they reveal some underlying assumptions of which you may not even be entirely aware. If what I have to say makes you angry, I'm sorry for it, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't point out a few things to you. Please listen to what I say while bearing in mind that your mother and I do really want the best for you.
My dear boy, I think I must come straight out and say something about what you seemed to be dancing around in our conversation: Penny's blood status can have no possible bearing upon whatever future happiness you may have with her. You never seemed to care much about her parents before going to work with Mr Malfoy, son. I can't help wondering whether perhaps these are more his opinions than yours? And if so, I'd advise you to remember that he's not the man who is choosing her, you are. I think you should worry a little less about whether she is 'worthy' of you and instead turn your attention to the real point, which is whether you are worthy of her. She may be short-tempered occasionally, and perhaps it would be helpful if she could learn some more about budgeting. Some of what you term the 'rough edges' of her character will no doubt smooth over with time and maturity. Frugality can certainly be taught. I'm sure your mother would be delighted to lend a hand, if you think that might be helpful.
What's important, despite any faults she may have, is that she loves you, Percy. Don't make the fatal mistake of sacrificing your heart on the altar of your ambition. It betrays (and this, I know, will sound stern) a kind of arrogance for you to assume that you have the right to demand a partner who is perfect. No one is perfect, including you.
After all our years of marriage and seven children, your mother and I know that to the core. She despairs over the mess I leave in my workshop and the way that I always forget to pick up half the list whenever she sends me out to the market. I know perfectly well, from years of painful experience, that she can be downright surly before she has had her first cup of coffee in the morning.
But your mother means the world to me, Percy. No job I have ever had will count as much to me as the emotion I feel when I come home at night and find the woman I love waiting for me (with a steak and kidney pie she has baked just for me, no less). No accolade from any boss has ever meant as much to me as the joy I felt when she placed each of my children in my arms for the first time. My fondest ambition is nothing more than to grow creaky and grey by her side, with our children around us. And maybe, someday, our grandchildren, if we're lucky. Yes, even if the Burrow falls down around our ears, I would still know I'm the most fortunate man in the world.
The people we love will give us strength to bear anything, whether it's just minor things like rainy Mondays or hellacious days at work, or the worst things that life can throw at
us.
Think about it, son.
Really, Percy, mightn't it be more likely that he's being just a tad unreasonable?
Penelope Clearwater is a good-hearted girl, and your mother and I have become quite fond of her. I must say, I find Lucius Malfoy's insinuations concerning her motivations, background and character to be most unfair. (And how is it his business, anyway?) But more than that, I'm troubled, I must admit, by some things you said during our conversation. I think they reveal some underlying assumptions of which you may not even be entirely aware. If what I have to say makes you angry, I'm sorry for it, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't point out a few things to you. Please listen to what I say while bearing in mind that your mother and I do really want the best for you.
My dear boy, I think I must come straight out and say something about what you seemed to be dancing around in our conversation: Penny's blood status can have no possible bearing upon whatever future happiness you may have with her. You never seemed to care much about her parents before going to work with Mr Malfoy, son. I can't help wondering whether perhaps these are more his opinions than yours? And if so, I'd advise you to remember that he's not the man who is choosing her, you are. I think you should worry a little less about whether she is 'worthy' of you and instead turn your attention to the real point, which is whether you are worthy of her. She may be short-tempered occasionally, and perhaps it would be helpful if she could learn some more about budgeting. Some of what you term the 'rough edges' of her character will no doubt smooth over with time and maturity. Frugality can certainly be taught. I'm sure your mother would be delighted to lend a hand, if you think that might be helpful.
What's important, despite any faults she may have, is that she loves you, Percy. Don't make the fatal mistake of sacrificing your heart on the altar of your ambition. It betrays (and this, I know, will sound stern) a kind of arrogance for you to assume that you have the right to demand a partner who is perfect. No one is perfect, including you.
After all our years of marriage and seven children, your mother and I know that to the core. She despairs over the mess I leave in my workshop and the way that I always forget to pick up half the list whenever she sends me out to the market. I know perfectly well, from years of painful experience, that she can be downright surly before she has had her first cup of coffee in the morning.
But your mother means the world to me, Percy. No job I have ever had will count as much to me as the emotion I feel when I come home at night and find the woman I love waiting for me (with a steak and kidney pie she has baked just for me, no less). No accolade from any boss has ever meant as much to me as the joy I felt when she placed each of my children in my arms for the first time. My fondest ambition is nothing more than to grow creaky and grey by her side, with our children around us. And maybe, someday, our grandchildren, if we're lucky. Yes, even if the Burrow falls down around our ears, I would still know I'm the most fortunate man in the world.
The people we love will give us strength to bear anything, whether it's just minor things like rainy Mondays or hellacious days at work, or the worst things that life can throw at
us.
Think about it, son.