Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of the explosion was deafening, a roar that swallowed everything else in its path. Dust filled the air, choking, blinding, but not before Percy saw it. The wall was crumbling. It was collapsing, right behind Fred.

Everything slowed.

His brother was laughing, barely having caught his breath from the joke he'd made. “You're joking, Perce.” Fred grinned, the first smile they’d shared in so long, and for a split second, the world felt normal again.

But then Percy's heart lurched in his chest. “Protego!” he shouted with everything he had, the shield charm erupting from his wand as the wall blew apart behind Fred.

But it wasn’t fast enough. It wasn’t enough.

Time fractured, splintering into moments of sheer terror. Percy didn’t think. He couldn’t think. The fear was too sharp, the realization too brutal, Fred would die if he didn’t move. In one frantic, desperate motion, Percy hurled himself at Fred, tackling him to the ground, casting his own body as a shield. The impact came in a brutal, unforgiving wave.

Percy felt it. The crushing force, the explosion of agony as the debris slammed into his back. His body was screaming, every nerve lit with pain, but he couldn’t feel it fully. All he could focus on was Fred beneath him. Fred alive. Fred safe.

Fred’s voice tore through the ringing in Percy’s ears, but it was distant. He sounded scared. Fred never sounded scared. “Percy! No, no, no—Percy!”

But Percy couldn’t answer. His body, broken and bleeding, wouldn’t let him. His vision blurred, darkness pressing in on all sides. The world was falling away, and the only thought that flickered in his mind was Fred is safe.

Fred’s heart was hammering so hard it felt like it might burst through his chest. The dust hadn’t even settled, but he could feel the weight of Percy on top of him, limp, unmoving.

“Percy!” Fred shook him, his voice cracking as panic clawed at his throat. “Percy, come on, wake up, wake up, please.”

But Percy didn’t move. He didn’t even make a sound.

Fred’s hands fumbled, slipping as he tried to turn Percy over. There was blood, so much of it, staining Fred’s hands, Percy’s clothes, the floor beneath them. The sheer wrongness of it all was suffocating. Fred couldn’t breathe.

His heart was racing, his mind a chaotic mess of fear and disbelief. This can’t be happening. Not Percy. Not now. He had just come back. He had just come back, and Fred hadn’t even had time to talk to him. To really talk to him. And now...

Ron came skidding around the corner, face pale as he took in the scene. His wand was still drawn, eyes wide and frantic. “Fred...we have to go! We don’t have time!”

But Fred didn’t move. He couldn’t. His chest felt too tight, his whole body shaking as he looked down at Percy, lying there too still, too quiet. “No,” Fred choked out. His voice trembled. “No, he’s alive...he’s still alive, Ron. I’m not leaving him!”

Fred’s hands gripped Percy’s shirt, his knuckles white. He couldn’t let go. His mind refused to accept what his eyes were seeing. Percy couldn’t die. Not like this. Not for him.

Ron’s face crumpled, the helplessness etched deep into his features. “Fred—Fred, we—”

“I’m not leaving him!” Fred shouted, his voice raw, filled with a desperation that cut through the chaos around them. “He’s alive. I...he saved me, Ron. He saved me!”

Fred’s breathing hitched, a sob breaking free from his chest. His hands shook as he aimed his wand at Percy, trying every healing charm he could remember, each spell getting more frantic. “Come on, please, just work, damn it!” But nothing happened.

Percy’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, each one barely there, and Fred felt like he was going to break apart right there on the spot. Why wasn’t it working? Why couldn’t he fix this? He was Fred Weasley, the one who always found a way. But this...this was too big. Too broken.

Ron stood frozen, helpless, his eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears as he watched Fred unravel. “Fred—” he started again, but his voice broke. What could he even say? What could anyone say when everything was falling apart like this?

Fred crouched lower, his hands pressing against Percy’s chest as if he could keep his brother tethered to the world through sheer will. “You can’t die, Perce,” he whispered, his voice shaking so hard it barely came out. “You can’t, not after everything. Come on. I need you, Percy.”

His vision blurred as tears spilled down his cheeks, splashing onto Percy’s bloodstained shirt. This was his fault. Percy wouldn’t have gotten hurt if it wasn’t for him. And now...now his brother, who had just come back to them, who had fought so hard to be here, was slipping away because of him.

“I’m sorry,” Fred whispered, his voice a broken rasp. “I’m so sorry.”

The battle was over, but the war still waged inside the Great Hall. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some still, some moving weakly, but the Weasleys barely saw any of it.

Fred moved in a daze, Percy’s body draped across his back, his brother’s weight a constant reminder of how fragile life was—how easily it could slip away. Each step toward the family was agony, and by the time he reached them, Fred’s legs buckled.

The Weasleys turned as one, their faces blank with shock as they took in the sight before them. Percy, pale and unconscious, covered in dust and blood. And Fred, broken in a way none of them had ever seen.

Molly let out a guttural cry that seemed to rip from the depths of her soul. “Percy!” She surged forward, but Fred didn’t react. He couldn’t. His whole body was trembling, his eyes fixed on Percy’s too-pale face, unable to look anywhere else.

Arthur followed Molly, his face ashen, but his steps slow, tentative, as though approaching Percy meant acknowledging the unbearable. “Merlin,” he breathed, his voice low, hoarse with fear. “No...no, please—”

Fred lowered Percy onto the cold stone floor with shaking hands. He dropped to his knees beside him, his fingers still clutching his brother’s arm, afraid that letting go would mean losing him for good. “He...he saved me,” Fred whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of guilt. “He cast a shield charm, but it wasn’t enough, and he...he threw himself at me. Took the whole thing. I tried...I tried to heal him, but it didn’t work. Nothing worked.” His voice broke completely, his sobs loud, violent. “He didn’t even think. He just...he just did it.”

Molly was sobbing openly, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch Percy’s face, as though trying to convince herself he was still real, still there. “My baby,” she cried, her heart shattering with every breath. “My baby boy...”

Arthur knelt beside them, but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, there was only this hollow, crushing weight in his chest, a guilt so profound it stole the air from his lungs. He had been so angry with Percy, so hurt by the choices his son had made. And now...now Percy had nearly died protecting Fred, and Arthur hadn’t even told him he loved him. He hadn’t even hugged him when he came back. The regret felt like a physical wound, one that bled just as much as Percy’s.

Fred looked up, his eyes red, swollen. “It should’ve been me,” he whispered, voice shaking. “It should’ve been me.”

The words sent a fresh wave of grief through them all, sharp and suffocating. It shouldn't have been Fred. But it shouldn’t have been Percy lying there, either. Broken, barely breathing. Percy, who had spent years feeling like he wasn’t part of them, who had come back with courage and remorse in his heart.

Charlie who hadn’t even sent his brother a letter in years stood there...frozen. His eyes were wide, filled with horror as he stared at Percy’s motionless form. He should’ve made things right...but now it might be too late.

Poppy Pomfrey’s voice cut through the agonizing stillness. “Bring him to the others. His injuries need more than spells.”

They lifted Percy, and as his body was carried away, the Weasleys were left standing in the wreckage of their family, their hearts shattered. The battle was over, but the war inside them had only just begun.

Chapter Text

Arthur sat beside Percy’s bed, his eyes red-rimmed and exhausted, his shoulders hunched under the weight of days that felt more like years. The curtains around the small cot offered little privacy, but he didn’t care. The Healers had said Percy was stable, but still unconscious, his body fighting off the remnants of the curse that had hit the wall.

Two days had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, but time felt warped, like it had slowed to a crawl. The world outside was celebrating victory, but Arthur’s world was frozen in this room, filled with the steady, too-shallow rise and fall of Percy’s chest. Every breath his son took was a reminder of how close they had come to losing him, and of how fragile life truly was.

He’s still here, Arthur thought, his heart tightening in his chest. But the relief was tangled with guilt so deep it gnawed at him. He’s still here, but for how long?

His eyes traced the lines of Percy’s face. The same face he had watched grow from a bright-eyed boy into a young man. But now, lying there, Percy looked so much younger. So vulnerable. Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, his thoughts drifting back, unbidden, to the last real conversation they’d had...if you could even call it that.

A fight. It had been a stupid, bitter fight. Arthur could still see the defiant, hurt look in Percy’s eyes as he stormed out of their home, slamming the door behind him.

“I was so angry,” Arthur whispered to the silence around him, his voice shaking. He had been angry, but more than that, he had been hurt. Percy had walked away, choosing a path that Arthur couldn’t understand. He had aligned himself with the Ministry, sided with Fudge, at a time when everything felt like it was falling apart. And then, after the fight, Percy didn’t come back.

For years, Arthur had believed that Percy had simply turned his back on them. He had let himself believe that Percy’s pride had outweighed his love for the family. But now, sitting beside his son, the truth hit him like a physical blow.

What had I done? He had pushed Percy away. Pushed him into a corner with his anger, his disappointment. He had let the fight consume them both, and now...now it seemed so stupid, so meaningless.

Arthur’s fingers brushed Percy’s limp hand, and the ache in his chest deepened. None of it matters anymore, Perce. Not the fight. None of it. I just want you to wake up.

The Healers had explained that the curse that hit the wall had been laced with dark magic, a powerful, destructive force meant to obliterate anything in its path. Percy had shielded Fred, but the curse had partially broken through, lacing its way into Percy’s body. Arthur had heard them whispering in the hallways, how it was a miracle Percy had even survived the blast.

“He shouldn’t have lived,” one of the Healers had said, and the words echoed in Arthur’s mind like a drumbeat. “He shouldn’t have survived.”

But Percy had survived, just barely. Because of his magic, because of sheer will, they said. Because of something deep inside him that refused to let go. And yet, Arthur couldn’t shake the thought that the same will that had saved Percy had also been what tore them apart. Stubbornness and pride. Arthur had seen it in his son since he was a boy. But now, he realized, that same fire was what had saved Fred’s life.

Arthur clenched his hands into fists, the guilt gnawing at him relentlessly. Why hadn’t I reached out to him? He was at the wedding Arthur is sure. He was transfigured but he was sure Percy had shown up at Bill and Fleur’s wedding for a brief, fleeting moment. He had been so angry, he didn't talk to him, didn't even acknowledge him, Arthur had let him go without a fight. He should have fought for his son.

But how could Percy have contacted them, they were hiding. Arthur’s mind turned over the question again and again. Percy had been cut off from the family where could he have gone? When Percy arrived at Hogwarts during the battle, Aberforth Dumbledore greeted him as if he’d been expecting him. “About time you got here,” the barkeep had said, as though Percy had been in contact with someone.

Had Percy tried to reach out? Arthur’s heart clenched at the thought. Had Percy been waiting for a sign from them, any sign at all, that they still wanted him? That they hadn’t given up on him?

Arthur thought back to the wedding. Percy had arrived under cover, awkward and alone, but he had been there. Why hadn’t he pulled him aside? Why hadn’t he fought for him then, before everything spiraled out of control?

The thought twisted painfully in Arthur’s chest. He hadn’t even sent an owl after that. He hadn’t tried. And now, with Percy lying there, he might never get the chance to tell him how wrong he had been.

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a groan escaping his throat. All those years of bitterness and resentment seemed so ridiculous now. When Percy had left, Arthur had been too hurt to see the truth—Percy wasn’t siding with the Death Eaters, he wasn’t some cold-hearted politician, he was also hurt...like him. He was his son, just trying to navigate a world that was falling apart. He was trying to hold onto his principles.

A shuddering breath escaped him, and Arthur closed his eyes, memories of Percy as a child flooding his mind.

Percy had been the proudest little boy when he got his first pair of glasses. Arthur could still remember how Percy had practically glowed, his eyes shining behind the thick lenses as he looked up at him.

“I’m just like you now, Dad!” Percy had beamed, clutching the frames with both hands. He didn’t care that Bill and Charlie had teased him about how big they were or that Fred and George had tried to swap them for joke glasses. Percy was so happy to look like his father. Arthur had laughed then, ruffling Percy’s hair, and he had felt a rush of warmth in his chest. My boy.

He had always been proud of Percy. Always. Even when they had argued, Arthur had admired his son’s drive, his determination. But he had been too angry to say it. Too stubborn to bridge the gap between them.

And now, after all this time, Percy had come back. He had come back not as the Ministry’s puppet, not as someone chasing power—but as Percy. Their son. And he had saved Fred’s life without hesitation, thrown himself into the fray without thinking of the consequences.

Arthur’s heart ached as he stared down at Percy, lying so still, his face so pale. What if he never wakes up? The thought was unbearable, a sharp, gnawing pain that threatened to swallow him whole.

He couldn’t let Percy leave this world without telling him the things he should have said years ago.

“I’m so proud of you, Percy,” Arthur whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I always have been. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

The weight of his regret was almost too much to bear. He wanted to tell Percy that he admired his strength, his intelligence, his courage. That he was proud of the man Percy had become. But all Arthur could do now was sit here, in this too-quiet room, and wait.

Wait, and hope that he would have the chance to make things right.

The news that Harry had shared just the day before still echoed in Arthur’s mind, adding to the guilt that gnawed at him. Dumbledore had raised Harry to die. That simple, horrifying truth had shifted everything. The entire war had been built on manipulation and sacrifice, on people being used as pawns in a game far bigger than any of them.

How could Arthur have been so blind? How could they have judged Percy so harshly when all Percy had done was follow what he believed to be right? How could they have let the fight overshadow everything that mattered?

Percy had made mistakes, but hadn’t they all? And now, he had saved Fred’s life. An act so selfless that Arthur’s heart twisted painfully in his chest.

What if I never get to tell him? The thought haunted him. What if Percy never woke up? What if he never got the chance to tell his son how much he loved him, how proud he was? He had waited too long already.

Arthur reached out, gently squeezing Percy’s limp hand. “I love you, Percy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His throat felt tight, his chest heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. “Please, just wake up.”

But the only answer was the steady, fragile rhythm of Percy’s breathing. And the silence of the room felt like the coldest punishment of all.

Chapter Text

Arthur felt the familiar warmth of the Burrow settle around him as he stepped through the door. Bill had insisted on staying with Percy at St. Mungo’s for the night, promising that he wouldn’t leave his brother’s side. But Arthur couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that clung to him, even as he tried to reassure himself that Percy was stable.

"Everything is going to be fine," he repeated silently, the words a mantra in his mind as if saying them enough times would make them true. He knew better than to lie to Molly, but what else could he do when the sight of her tear-streaked face tore him apart?

As soon as he walked inside, Molly rushed toward him, her hands trembling as she gripped his arms. Her eyes, red and puffy from crying, searched his face for any sign of reassurance.

“Arthur?” she asked, her voice shaky. “Is there any news? Is Percy...?”

He pulled her into a tight hug before she could finish, feeling the weight of her grief pressed against his chest. He tried to steady his voice, to sound sure, even if the knot in his stomach refused to unravel. “He’s stable, Molly. The Healers said he’s holding on, and Bill’s with him. He’s going to be fine.”

She let out a sob, burying her face in his chest as he stroked her hair. “Oh, Arthur, I just... I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop thinking about everything I didn’t say. He pushed me away, I know because he was hurt, I should have tried more. I...What if—”

“No, no, don’t think like that, love,” Arthur whispered, though his own voice trembled with uncertainty. “Percy is strong. You know how stubborn he is. He’s going to pull through this.”

He wasn’t sure if he was comforting her or trying to convince himself, but the hollow ache in his chest refused to ease. They held each other for a long moment, and Arthur could feel her shaking with silent sobs. The Burrow felt emptier than it ever had before. Even with all the noise and life that usually filled their home, Percy’s absence cast a long shadow over everything.

Finally, he pulled away, brushing a strand of hair behind Molly’s ear. “Go rest, Molly. I’ll be down in a bit.”

Molly nodded, wiping at her eyes, though the tears hadn’t quite stopped. Arthur kissed her forehead and headed upstairs to change into something more comfortable, his steps heavy with exhaustion. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, but he needed a moment to breathe.

As he made his way down the narrow staircase, his feet slowed when he heard the faint sound of muffled sobs. He paused, listening. The noise was coming from Percy’s old room. The door was slightly ajar, and the sound tugged at something deep inside him. His heart clenched as he moved closer, peering inside.

Fred was curled up on Percy’s bed, his face buried in the pillow, his body shaking with quiet sobs. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. Fred, who was always so full of life, so loud and unapologetically reckless, looked small and broken.

Fred wasn’t supposed to be here. He and George had moved out months ago, settling above their joke shop in Diagon Alley. But here he was, alone in Percy’s room, crumbling beneath the weight of a guilt so heavy it seemed to crush him.

Arthur stood there for a moment, watching his son’s shoulders shake, unsure of what to say or do. He had never seen Fred like this, not even in the darkest moments of the war. It was Fred, after all, who could make anyone laugh, even when the world felt like it was ending.

Quietly, Arthur stepped inside and sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to startle Fred. He placed a hand gently on his son’s back, and Fred flinched slightly, then turned his tear-streaked face toward his father. His eyes were red and swollen, his usually mischievous smile replaced by something raw and broken.

“I’m sorry,” Fred choked out, his voice thick with tears. “It should have been me, Dad. It should’ve been me.”

Arthur’s heart ached at the words, and he gently rubbed Fred’s back. “Don’t say that, Fred. Don’t ever say that.”

Fred shook his head, his hands clutching at the blankets beneath him as if he could hold onto something solid. “But it’s true. Percy shouldn’t have been the one to get hurt. It should’ve been me. He saved me, Dad. After everything I did to him, after everything I said...he still saved me.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed as he looked at Fred, sadness pulling at him. “Fred, listen to me. You both should be here, healthy and happy. Neither of you should’ve been hurt. That’s the only thing that should have happened.”

Fred shook his head again, tears streaming down his face. “I’ve been a shitty brother, Dad. Not just after the fight... but for years. I was horrible to Percy. We all were. But me especially.” His voice broke as he continued, his words spilling out in a torrent of guilt and self-loathing. “I mocked him for everything. For being serious, for caring about his grades, for wanting something different from us. I...I locked him in that stupid cursed pyramid with George, remember? He could’ve died, Dad. We sent him junk mail at the Ministry, we... we threw parsnip puree at him when he came with the Minister over Christmas.”

Fred let out a harsh sob, burying his face in his hands. “I called him a coward. I was thinking that he could b a future Death Eater, if that gave him opportunities. A Ministry lackey, this is what I thought of him. I said horrible things. And after all that, he...he still threw himself on top of me. He didn’t even think twice about it. He saved me, and now...now he might...” Fred’s voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish the thought.

Arthur’s chest tightened as he listened to his son’s confession. The weight of everything unsaid between his children felt unbearable. He reached out, pulling Fred into a tight embrace, holding him as if that could somehow take away the pain.

“Fred,” Arthur whispered, his voice low and hoarse, “I know you’re hurting. But Percy didn’t save you because he felt obligated, or because he forgot everything you said, or because he forgave you. He saved you because you’re his brother. And that’s what family does. He loves you, Fred. You were young, and you didn’t always understand him, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love you or you didn't love him.”

Fred sobbed into his father’s shoulder, his whole body trembling. “I never told him I was sorry. I never told him I loved him. And now I might never get the chance. What if he never wakes up, Dad? What if I never get to tell him how much I regret everything?”

Arthur swallowed hard, trying to hold back his own tears. He had failed as a father in many ways. He had watched the tension between his children grow, watched the mocking and the teasing, and he hadn’t stepped in. He hadn’t done enough to mend the fractures before they became chasms.

“I should’ve done more,” Arthur said quietly, his voice laced with regret. “I should’ve stepped in when things got out of hand. I should’ve talked to all of you, made sure you understood each other. I let things fester, Fred. That’s on me.”

Fred shook his head, pulling back to look at his father, his eyes wide with disbelief. “No, Dad. It’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”

But Arthur just shook his head, his heart heavy with the weight of his own guilt. “I could’ve done more. But what matters now, Fred, is that Percy is still here. He’s still fighting. And you have to fight too. For him. You can’t give up on him, and you can’t give up on yourself. He saved you because he wants you to live. And the best thing you can do now is honor that. Be the best version of yourself for him.”

Fred let out a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes. “But how? How can I make it right?”

Arthur squeezed his shoulder gently. “You start by taking care of yourself. Percy wouldn’t want you to fall apart. You know how he is, he’d be like a nagging mother if he found out you weren’t eating or taking care of yourself. Go downstairs, have something to eat, take a shower. Percy’s not gone. And you can’t give up on him.”

Fred nodded slowly, his face still streaked with tears. He looked exhausted, emotionally drained, but Arthur could see a flicker of determination in his eyes. “You’re right. Percy would probably hex me if he knew I was skipping meals.”

Arthur smiled sadly, brushing a tear off Fred’s cheek. “Exactly. Now go. I’ll be here if you need me.”

Fred stood up, casting one last glance at Percy’s bed before he turned and made his way toward the door. As he left, Arthur sat there in the quiet, the weight of everything still pressing down on him.

But for the first time in days, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe, they would get the chance to make things right.

Chapter Text

Charlie walked slowly through the hallways of St. Mungo’s, his footsteps echoing off the sterile walls. The Healers had insisted Percy’s condition was stable, but the term felt meaningless when he lay motionless, unresponsive, in a hospital bed. Stable wasn’t the same as safe. Stable wasn’t the same as awake.

When Charlie reached the door to Percy’s room, he paused, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Bill was inside, keeping vigil as always. They took turns now, refusing to leave Percy alone. It was the least they could do, after all the time they had ignored him.

Charlie knocked softly before stepping inside, his eyes immediately falling on his younger brother’s pale face. Percy looked so small, swallowed by the bed and the layers of blankets. His glasses had been removed, leaving his face bare, almost fragile. It wasn’t right, Percy was supposed to be put together, proper. He was supposed to be lecturing them and doing things the “correct way,” not lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

Bill sat by the bedside, his hands folded together in his lap, staring at Percy with an expression somewhere between hope and devastation.

“Hey,” Charlie murmured, closing the door quietly behind him. “I’m here to take over.”

Bill looked up, his face drawn but grateful. He hadn’t slept much, none of them had. They hadn’t been able to. “Thanks,” Bill said softly, standing and stretching his tired limbs. “I just... I don’t want him to wake up alone, you know?”

Charlie nodded, stepping closer to Percy’s bedside. He felt the same way. If, no, when, Percy woke up, he needed to see that his family was here, that they cared, even after all the years of silence and distance. Charlie's throat tightened at the thought.

“How’s he doing?” Charlie asked, though he already knew the answer.

Bill shook his head, rubbing his temples. “Same. No changes. They don’t know how long it’ll take for him to wake up, if he even will.”

Charlie flinched at the words. He hated the uncertainty, the idea that they might lose Percy without ever making things right. "He’s going to wake up," Charlie said firmly, trying to convince himself as much as Bill. "He’s tough. He's stronger than we gave him credit for."

A heavy silence settled between them as they stared at their brother. Charlie didn’t know what to say, what could he say? How could words begin to express the storm of guilt that was brewing inside him?

“Bill,” Charlie began, his voice thick, “how the hell did we ever think Percy was a coward? How did we ever let ourselves believe he’d side with the Death Eaters? Merlin, we didn’t even try to understand him. We just...” His voice cracked, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “We just pretended he didn’t exist.”

Bill let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "I’ve been thinking about that too," he admitted. "It doesn’t make sense now, does it? Percy, aligning with the Death Eaters? He was always about rules, the right thing. Not hatred. I just... I don’t know how we missed it."

"Aberforth knew," Charlie said bitterly, the memory gnawing at him. "When Percy came to Hogwarts during the battle, Aberforth greeted him like he’d been expecting him. He was in contact with Percy. But why? Why did Aberforth know more about our own brother than we did?"

Bill looked down, his face tight with guilt. “Because we didn’t ask. We didn’t try. We let him walk away, and instead of fighting to get him back, we just let him go.”

Charlie’s jaw clenched, anger and sorrow mingling in his chest. “We were too bloody proud. Too hurt to admit that maybe, just maybe, we were wrong about him.”

“And now,” Bill added quietly, “Percy’s in this bed because unlike us, he put Fred above himself, even after everything. He chose his family. After all the things we said, after how we treated him, he still chose family.”

Charlie turned away from Percy’s unconscious form, pacing the small room as the guilt clawed at his insides. “I feel like such a bastard,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Percy used to write to me, you know? When he was still in school. He’d send me letters about his grades, his plans, school drama. I...I didn’t always respond. Sometimes I was too busy, or I just didn’t want to deal with it. I thought it was boring. And now... I haven’t spoken to him in years, Bill. Not a single letter. Not even when everything went to hell.”

Bill was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle but filled with regret. “I know. None of us reached out, apart from mum. We all just... cut him off. We convinced ourselves he didn’t want us, that he’d chosen the Ministry over his own family. But we never stopped to think that maybe he didn’t know how to come back.”

Charlie leaned heavily against the wall, his heart pounding with the weight of years of neglect. “I’m not sure he even knew how to find us after the wedding. After we went into hiding. We all just assumed he’d chosen a side, but what if he couldn’t? What if he didn’t know how to reach us?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. They were all complicit in this. Every one of them had allowed the rift between them and Percy to grow wider, and now... now it might be too late to fix it.

“I just want to tell him how sorry I am,” Charlie whispered, his voice hoarse. “I want to tell him I love him. But what if... what if I never get the chance?”

Bill, though trying to maintain some sense of hope, couldn’t deny the fear gnawing at him as well. “You will, Charlie. You have to believe that. We all have to believe that.”

Charlie’s heart ached with the weight of lost time, of unspoken words. He wanted to believe Bill’s words, but the longer Percy lay there, the harder it became.

As they sat in silence, a soft knock interrupted their thoughts. Both men turned as the door creaked open, revealing two figures standing hesitantly in the doorway.

One of them was instantly recognizable, Oliver Wood, Percy’s old schoolmate and Quidditch captain. Charlie hadn’t seen him in ages, though he remembered the pride Oliver had always taken in Percy’s meticulous note-taking, despite their different interests. The second figure, however, was a woman neither Charlie nor Bill recognized. She stood nervously beside Oliver, her hands twisting the hem of her coat.

"Hi," the woman said softly, her voice hesitant. "I’m Audrey. I...I know this is unexpected, but we...we wanted to see him."

Charlie nodded slowly, stepping back to let them in. He wasn’t sure what kind of relationship this Audrey had with Percy, but her presence here felt genuine enough. She glanced at the bed, her eyes welling with sympathy, but it was Oliver who moved first.

Without a word, Oliver crossed the room to Percy’s bedside, his face drawn with an emotion that seemed to take Charlie by surprise. Oliver reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently brushed Percy’s hair back from his forehead. His fingers lingered there, tracing the familiar lines of his friend’s face with a tenderness that made Charlie and Bill exchange a confused glance.

Oliver said nothing, but the way his shoulders hunched, the way his eyes filled with a grief too deep to put into words, spoke volumes. This wasn’t just a casual visit from an old school friend, this was something more. Something Charlie and Bill hadn’t even known existed.

Audrey stood quietly near the door, her expression unreadable, as Oliver continued to stand at Percy’s bedside, his hand still resting gently on Percy’s head.

Neither Charlie nor Bill said anything, too caught off guard by Oliver’s obvious distress. They hadn’t known Percy and Oliver had remained this close after Hogwarts. Hell, they hadn’t known Percy was close to anyone outside of, maybe, his Ministry colleagues. And yet here was Oliver, heartbroken, as if watching his world unravel before him.

Charlie felt a lump rise in his throat as he realized just how little he knew about Percy’s life. How much had they missed? How many people cared about Percy while his own family had failed to? It was a bitter pill to swallow.

As the room filled with the quiet hum of hospital machinery, the silence became almost unbearable. Charlie wanted to say something, to ask Oliver about the friendship they clearly hadn’t known existed, but the words stuck in his throat. Now wasn’t the time.

So instead, he and Bill watched in silence as Oliver stood beside their brother, stroking Percy’s hair with a tenderness that spoke more than any words ever could.

Chapter Text

The room was wrapped in stillness, the kind of quiet that settled heavy in the chest, pressing down with the weight of everything unsaid. Bill and Charlie stood near the door, their gazes fixed on the scene unfolding in front of them.

Oliver hadn’t moved from Percy’s bedside since he arrived, his hand wrapped around Percy’s pale, limp one. His thumb traced small, repetitive circles against Percy’s skin, the motion both gentle and heartbreaking. Charlie had seen Oliver this focused before, when quidditch was involved, but this was different. There was no fire, no determination to win a match...only raw, unspoken pain.

Bill, leaning against the wall, caught something in the corner of his eye. It was subtle, a movement so slight he almost doubted it happened. But he saw it, Oliver, his lips brushing the back of Percy’s hand, a whisper of a kiss that felt far too intimate for Bill to process in the moment. He shifted uncomfortably but said nothing, unsure of how to respond. Moments later, he thought he saw Oliver press his lips to Percy’s temple, but by then, Bill had already turned his gaze elsewhere, letting the mystery gnaw at him in silence.

The air in the room grew even heavier, thick with emotion that none of them had the courage to confront. Audrey, standing a little awkwardly beside the door, seemed to sense it too. She cleared her throat gently, her voice soft when she finally spoke.

"We’re sorry for coming unannounced," Audrey began, her eyes darting between Bill and Charlie. "But... well, Oliver really wanted to see Percy, and I didn’t want him to come alone. I thought it’d be better this way."

Bill and Charlie exchanged a quick glance, unsure of how to respond. They both nodded slightly, the words stuck in their throats. Neither of them had expected this, Oliver, heartbroken, and Audrey, a face they hadn’t really known.

Audrey continued, her voice gentle but sincere. "I wasn’t very close with Percy, to be honest. I knew him, of course, we were in the same year at Hogwarts. But I was in Hufflepuff, and we had different friends, different lives." She smiled sadly, her eyes drifting to Percy’s still form. "But I wanted to come anyway. I...I wanted to say thank you, if he was awake."

She shifted, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the hem of her coat. Bill and Charlie stayed silent, letting her speak.

"A common friend, Penelope Clearwater," Audrey said, her tone softening, "she told me that Percy helped her with Ministry paperwork. It was after... everything. You know, when things got really dark. He made sure her papers were in order, so she wouldn’t have any issues, even though she is a muggle-born. She was scared, but Percy just... handled it. When I heard, I asked Penelope if he could do the same for my mum. She...she was in a similar situation, and I didn’t know what else to do."

Bill blinked, a wave of disbelief washing over him. He hadn't known about any of this. Percy, quietly helping people while the world around them was falling apart. It shouldn’t have surprised him, not after everything Percy had always stood for, but it still stung, realizing just how much they had misjudged him.

"And he did it," Audrey continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "He helped my mum, no questions asked. I just wanted to come and thank him for that, for being so kind when he didn’t have to be. It was dangerous, helping me, Penny, and anyone else. Most people wouldn’t do it. He... he’s always been so helpful, even back in school, hasn’t he?" Audrey’s voice cracked, and she quickly glanced away, wiping at her eyes before the tears could fall.

Bill swallowed hard, his heart aching with the weight of everything Percy had done in the shadows. He and Charlie stood frozen, guilt gnawing at their insides. Percy had been fighting for what was right all along, quietly, without recognition. And where had they been? Where had they been when he needed them?

Penelope will come to visit too, I think," Audrey added softly. "She’s working right now, so it’s a bit difficult for her, but she’ll be here at some point. She and Percy have been close since school, practically attached at the hip. Maybe others will come as well, I know quite a few people who were really upset when they heard he was injured during the battle.

Charlie’s throat tightened painfully as he struggled to keep his composure. All those years... all the time they had spent thinking Percy was a traitor, a coward. And now, standing here, it was clearer than ever: Percy had never stopped being the good one. He had kept doing what was right, even when it could have cost him his life. He had never aligned himself with the Death Eaters, never abandoned the principles he had always stood for.

Audrey’s voice softened again as she turned to look at Oliver, who hadn’t said a word since they arrived. "He tried to come yesterday, but the Healers said it was family only. He didn’t take it well." She smiled sadly, her eyes full of quiet understanding. "He’s... really distressed with the whole situation. I’m not sure how to help, but I wanted to be here with him."

As she spoke, Oliver leaned over Percy’s bed once more, his hand still clasped around Percy’s. His movements were slow, deliberate. Bill and Charlie watched in stunned silence as Oliver pressed a kiss to Percy’s cheek, his lips lingering for a long, agonizing moment.

"Bye, Perce," Oliver whispered, his voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "Please wake up soon. You’ve got people waiting for you, alright? I am waiting for you."

Charlie felt his chest tighten painfully as he watched Oliver pull back, his expression hollow, like he had just left part of himself behind.

Oliver didn’t say another word to Bill or Charlie. He stood, gave Percy one last lingering look, and then turned to leave, his face drawn with a grief so raw it left both brothers momentarily speechless. Audrey stayed behind for a moment longer, offering them both a small, polite nod.

"Thank you for letting us visit," she said quietly. "I hope he wakes up soon."

Bill nodded stiffly, still too shocked to find words, and Charlie managed a weak smile in return. Audrey turned to follow Oliver, and then they were gone, leaving the room heavy with the silence they left behind.

When the door clicked shut, Bill let out a shaky breath, finally breaking the suffocating tension that had settled in his chest. He glanced at Charlie, who looked just as stunned, just as lost in his own whirlwind of thoughts.

"Did you know?" Charlie asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Did you know they were close? This...close."

Bill shook his head slowly, still trying to process what they had just witnessed. "No," he murmured. "I didn’t."

They stood in the quiet room, the reality of everything sinking in. Percy, who they had all dismissed as distant, cold, and pretentious, had been so much more. He had been brave, kind, and selfless, everything they had failed to see.

Charlie’s voice broke through the silence again, but this time, it was filled with anguish. "He could’ve been killed, Bill. Percy could’ve been killed a hundred different ways, and he still chose to do the right thing. He... he always chose what was right. I don't know why we..."

Bill swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart aching with guilt. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice hollow. "And we weren’t there for him. We weren’t there when it mattered."

They both stared at their brother, still lying motionless in the hospital bed, the weight of their mistakes pressing down on them like an unbearable weight.

And for the first time, they wondered if they even deserved the chance to make things right.

Chapter Text

Bill apparated just outside the Burrow as the sky dimmed to a deep navy. He had slept fitfully on the sofa at Shell Cottage, waking with a heaviness in his chest that wouldn’t let him rest for long. Fleur had urged him to go, to talk to his father, Arthur had been taking things harder than anyone seemed to realize, and Bill knew he couldn’t put off this conversation any longer.

Stepping into the kitchen, Bill immediately noticed the stark quiet. The Burrow felt hollow, stripped of its usual warmth and bustling energy. Molly was at St. Mungo’s with Percy and Charlie and the twins at their shop. The others were at Neville’s, trying to find some sense of normalcy after the chaos of the battle. It left Arthur here, alone with his thoughts.

Arthur was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a mug of untouched tea. He didn’t look up when Bill entered, lost in a trance-like state. The lines on his face were deeper, his eyes vacant, worn by sleepless nights and the endless weight of regret.

“Bill,” Arthur greeted, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. “Come in, son.”

Bill gave a small nod, pulling out the chair opposite his father. He glanced at the stairs leading up to where Percy should be, but of course, Percy wasn’t there. Bill wished, desperately, that he was.

“How’s Percy?” Arthur asked, his voice raw, brittle.

Bill sighed. “He’s stable... but still unconscious. The Healers are doing everything they can. It’s still... touch and go.” He hesitated, watching the way Arthur’s shoulders slumped further at the words.

They sat in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken grief.

“Dad...” Bill began cautiously. “At the hospital... Oliver Wood and this woman, Audrey, came to visit Percy.”

Arthur looked up, confused. “Audrey? I don’t know any Audrey. Oliver? From Quidditch? I didn’t know he and Percy were close.”

Bill nodded slowly. “Neither did we. Audrey was at school with him... She said Percy helped with her mother’s papers. She’s muggle-born. Apparently, Penelope—Percy’s friend, do you remember her?—told Audrey how Percy had helped her, and that he could help with her mother too. He...”

Bill paused, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think Percy was just keeping his head down at the Ministry. He was helping people, quietly. He helped Penelope, Audrey’s mother... Merlin knows how many others. He was still doing the right thing, even while we all thought he was...”

Bill’s voice cracked for a moment, and Arthur’s face twisted, guilt washing over him like a tidal wave. His hands clenched into fists, and he shook his head, the enormity of it all crashing down on him.

“I don’t understand how we missed it, Dad,” Bill continued, frustration seeping into his voice. “How did we misjudge him so badly? He's family and we thought he was a coward, a traitor, that he’d aligned himself with the Ministry... with everything we were fighting against. But he was still Percy. Of course, he was still helping, still fighting for what was right, and we...”

Bill’s voice broke, and he swallowed hard, trying to regain control of his emotions. Arthur’s eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them away, his mouth tightening into a thin line.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said finally, his voice rough with regret. “I’ve been asking myself the same question over and over. How did we let it get this far?”

Arthur’s hands trembled as he reached for his tea, but he didn’t drink. “I...I think he might have been at your wedding, Bill,” he said suddenly, catching Bill off guard. “I didn’t want to believe it at the time, but I’m sure now. I’m sure I saw him, under some sort of Transfiguration spell. I didn’t confront him, didn’t even try to talk to him. I was so... so wrapped up in my own anger, in all of our anger. Even when I thought it might have been him, I did nothing.”

Bill blinked in shock. Percy had been at his wedding? Watching from a distance, perhaps, transformed into someone else just so he could witness his brother's happiest moment without being seen? The thought sent a cold shiver down Bill’s spine.

“You’re sure it was him?” Bill asked quietly.

Arthur nodded slowly, guilt and sadness written across every line of his face. “Yes. I’m sure now. But I didn’t go to him. Not even to fight, Bill. I didn’t go to my own son.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, both men drowning in the tidal wave of what-ifs. What if they had reached out sooner? What if they had seen Percy for who he really was? What if Percy had never thrown himself in front of Fred and was lying in that bed, fighting for his life?

Bill took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts before speaking again. There was something else he needed to bring up, something that had been nagging at him since he saw Oliver’s reaction at Percy’s bedside. But he wasn’t sure how to say it. He wasn’t even sure if it was true.

"Oliver... he was really upset. Like, more than I ever expected. He’s been sitting by Percy’s bed, holding his hand. And... I think...well, I think Percy might’ve been more than just a friend to him.”

Arthur stared at Bill for a long moment, the realization slowly sinking in. His brows furrowed, but his voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “What?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Bill admitted, his heart racing, “but the way Oliver was acting... it seemed like they were closer than just old schoolmates. He was kissing Percy’s hand, his temple. There was something there...I never knew that Percy...I think Percy might’ve been... in love with him. Or at least, Oliver feels that way about Percy.”

Arthur’s reaction was not what Bill expected. His father’s face twisted, not in anger, but in deep, pained confusion. Arthur sat there, his gaze distant, as if trying to piece together the fragments of Percy he thought he had known.

After a long, heavy silence, Arthur spoke, his voice low and hoarse. “I never cared about that. About who my children loved. As long as you are happy I...If... if that’s true...if Percy and Oliver were... are close like that, it doesn’t matter to me. It never would’ve mattered.”

Bill’s throat tightened, and he felt a wave of emotion well up in his chest. Arthur’s voice grew more determined as he continued, “All I want, all I care about, is that Percy wakes up. That he’s happy. That he knows we... we’re proud of him. I don’t care who he loves, as long as he’s here.”

The rawness in his father’s voice made Bill’s heart ache. He could see the weight of regret in Arthur’s eyes, the pain of all the years they hadn’t been there for Percy, hadn’t understood him. And now, all that remained was the fear that they might never get the chance to make things right.

Bill reached out, placing a firm hand on Arthur’s arm. “He’ll wake up, Dad. He’s strong. And when he does, we’ll tell him. We’ll make sure he knows.”

Arthur nodded slowly, though his eyes still glistened with unshed tears.

The silence between them was filled with unspoken emotion, but there was a sense of understanding now, a shared grief that ran deeper than the words they exchanged. 

But, all they could do was wait.

Chapter Text

Ron sat with Harry and Hermione in one of the Ministry’s smaller, less official-looking rooms, a large oak desk in front of them piled high with parchment. The recounting of their journey, without, of course, mentioning the Horcruxes, had taken hours. They had explained what they could: who had helped them, how Snape had always been on their side, how events had unfolded at Hogwarts, and how they’d managed to bring Voldemort down. By the time they were finished, they were all emotionally drained, their voices hoarse from hours of talking.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, tall and imposing as ever, had listened intently. He wasn’t Minister of Magic yet, but his presence commanded the room. He stood now at the head of the table, his deep voice calm as he thanked them for their time. "I know how much you’ve been through," he said, his dark eyes scanning each of them in turn. "We’ll take care of the rest. You’ve done more than enough already."

Ron gave a curt nod, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. All he wanted was to go back to Grimmauld Place, crawl into bed, and maybe, just maybe, try not to think about anything for a few hours. But as they began gathering their things, Kingsley caught Ron’s arm, pulling him gently aside.

"Ron, a moment?" Kingsley’s voice was low, his tone not quite formal but serious enough to make Ron pause.

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances but gave Ron some space, walking toward the door while Kingsley motioned for Ron to follow him into a quieter corner.

Ron felt the familiar prickling anxiety he always got when someone pulled him aside for a talk. He wasn’t sure what Kingsley wanted, but the man’s eyes were kind, though lined with concern.

"I wanted to talk to you about Percy," Kingsley began, his voice softer now.

Ron stiffened at the mention of his brother. His relationship with Percy had always been... complicated, and after everything that had happened at the battle, the guilt sat heavily on his shoulders.

"I know things between your family and Percy weren’t great before... before the battle," Kingsley said carefully, "but I hope you're getting a chance to mend things now. And I hope Percy gets better soon. After everything he did, he deserves that."

Ron blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Kingsley let out a long breath, his expression a mix of understanding and sympathy. "Percy’s been one of the few people we could rely on at the Ministry during the darkest times. Not many know just how much he did or how much he risked." He paused, giving Ron a moment to absorb the words. "He was keeping things... organized. Crucial, really. He tracked a lot of paperwork, sometimes right under the noses of Death Eater sympathizers. He kept records on who was loyal to Voldemort and who wasn’t, often at great personal risk."

Ron’s mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. "Percy? But... I thought... we all thought he was a co..." He couldn’t finish the word.

"Percy may have followed the rules, but he wasn’t following their rules," Kingsley said, his voice steady. "He was sending me information, keeping things hidden. I think he was even involved in handling Muggle-born certificates, but I wasn't directly in on that. Still, I’m sure he helped keep people safe, making sure Ministry records didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Even before the fall, after you had... your fight, he’d come to me whenever something didn’t seem right. He put his neck on the line more times than anyone realizes."

Ron’s heart dropped. Percy? His Percy, the boring, prat, rule-following Percy, was doing that? Why hadn’t he known? How had they all misjudged him so horribly?

Kingsley must’ve seen the shock on Ron’s face because he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Percy is a good man, Ron. He may have made mistakes, but he’s always done what he thought was right. I just wanted you to know that I care about him, a great deal. And I hope, truly, that he wakes up soon."

Ron couldn’t speak. His throat had closed up, and all he could do was nod as Kingsley gave him a small smile and turned to leave.

The weight of what he'd just learned felt suffocating. Percy had been risking his life... all while Ron had been angry at him, calling him a traitor. He hadn’t even fully forgiven him after Fred...

"Ron?" Hermione’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to see her and Harry standing by the door, concern etched across their faces.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked quietly. "What did Kingsley say?"

Ron stood there for a moment, his mind swirling with confusion, guilt, and shame. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, hoarse with emotion. "Percy... Percy wasn’t a coward. He was helping people. The whole time. He was sending information to Kingsley, keeping track of Death Eater, and helping Muggle-borns. He was... he was fighting all along, and none of us...none of us even knew."

Hermione’s face softened, her eyes wide with sympathy. "Oh, Ron..."

"He saved Fred," Ron choked out, his throat tightening painfully. "He saved Fred, and we’ve all been so angry at him. Even after... after the battle, I never really forgave him. Not completely."

"You didn’t know, mate," Harry said gently, stepping forward. "None of us did."

"But we didn’t ask," Ron snapped, his voice rising with the intensity of his guilt. "We didn’t ask! We didn’t try to understand what was going on. I was so bloody angry at him for leaving...but he was helping all along. And I...I didn’t care. I didn’t care enough to ask."

He turned away from them, his fists clenched at his sides. The anger he had once directed at Percy was now aimed squarely at himself. How could he have been so blind? Percy had always been the annoying, self-righteous older brother, but Ron had never imagined that he was quietly risking everything to do what was right.

"Ron," Hermione said softly, stepping closer, "you couldn’t have known. None of us could."

"But I should’ve!" Ron snapped again, the guilt spilling over. " He is my brother, I know him. Percy was always doing what was right...always he...always. He was the only one, the only one, who congratulated me when I became a prefect. The rest of my siblings didn’t care. But Percy did."

Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, letting Ron vent the storm of emotion he’d been holding in.

"And now," Ron continued, his voice cracking, "he’s lying there, unconscious, because he saved Fred. And I never told him... I never told him I was sorry. I never told him that I didn’t mean half the things I said. I was just angry."

Tears pricked at his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away, refusing to break down completely. He couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Hermione reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "It’s not too late, Ron. Percy’s strong. He’s going to wake up. And when he does, you’ll have a chance to talk to him. To fix things."

Ron swallowed hard, nodding, though he wasn’t sure he believed it. "I just... I feel like the worst person in the world right now."

"You’re not," Harry said firmly. "You’re not, Ron. We all misjudged him. But now we know. And when he wakes up, we’ll make things right. All of us."

Ron looked at his two best friends, the two people who had stood by him through everything. And despite the guilt and the confusion, he felt a flicker of hope, hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to fix things with Percy.

The Burrow’s kitchen felt unusually heavy that evening. There was a tension in the air, a stillness that hadn’t left since Fred had gone to St. Mungo’s to stay with Percy. The clinking of cutlery and soft sounds of chewing filled the silence, but there were no conversations. It was like everyone was waiting for something, anythinγ, to break the quiet.

Ron, sitting at the far end of the table, couldn’t focus on the meal in front of him. His mind kept circling back to the conversation he’d had with Kingsley earlier that day. He could barely breathe under the weight of it, the gnawing truth pressing down on his chest. He knew he had to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Ron cleared his throat, the sound loud and jarring in the quiet room.

“Did...did any of you have contact with Percy during the war?” Ron asked, his voice cracking slightly. “Did you know what he was doing?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and bewildering. Every head turned toward him at once. Molly, who had been pushing food around her plate, froze. Arthur, who had been distractedly eating, looked up sharply.

“What do you mean?” Molly asked, her voice full of concern and confusion. “None of us had contact with him after...”

Arthur furrowed his brow, leaning forward slightly. “Ron?” he said gently, though there was a tension in his voice.

Ron swallowed hard, his throat tight. His heart was racing, and he struggled to find the right words. He looked around the table, seeing the worry etched into his family’s faces. Finally, he took a deep breath and forced himself to speak.

“K-Kingsley,” Ron stammered. “After we finished at the Ministry… He pulled me aside. He told me something about Percy.”

Every eye was fixed on him now, and the kitchen seemed to grow colder. Ron felt the pressure mounting as he continued. “Percy wasn’t just… doing his job at the Ministry. He was helping people. Muggle-borns. He was passing information to Kingsley. He kept records...kept people safe. Kingsley said Percy’s the reason a lot of people managed to stay out of Voldemort’s reach.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Arthur’s hand trembled as he set his fork down. His face, already pale, seemed to drain of the little color it had left. He looked like someone had just struck him—stunned and uncomprehending. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Molly gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes, one slipping down her cheek before she could stop it. “Percy… our Percy did that?” she whispered, her voice fragile and full of disbelief.

Ron nodded slowly, feeling a tightness in his chest that made it hard to speak. “Kingsley said Percy risked his life… every day. Percy was in contact with him even before the Death Eaters took over.”

Arthur made a small sound, something between a gasp and a sob, but he quickly pressed his hand to his mouth. He looked utterly blindsided. The shock on his face was almost too much to bear—how had none of them known? How had he not known?

“Why...” Ginny murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. She looked at Ron, her eyes wide, full of shock. “Why didn’t Percy tell us? Why didn’t he say anything?”

"I don't know, to protect us maybe," Ron admitted, his voice thick with guilt. "Maybe... maybe he thought we wouldn’t believe him. Or maybe he thought we didn’t care."

Bill and Charlie exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them. Bill cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Actually... a friend of Percy’s, Audrey, came to visit him and said something. About her mum and how Percy helped her. We didn’t know the full story. I told Dad, but..." He trailed off, his voice laden with regret. "We didn’t know how deep it went. Not like this."

Charlie nodded, his face pale. "We thought it was just one or two people he helped, people he somewhat knew, but we had no idea he was working with Kingsley the whole time."

Arthur sat back in his chair, staring down at the table in shock. His hands were trembling, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Percy…” he whispered again, as though saying his son’s name would help him understand it all.

Ginny glanced nervously at her father, her face pale with worry. “Dad… you don’t look so good.”

Arthur didn’t seem to hear her. His face was ashen, his eyes unfocused as he tried to process everything. His hands gripped the table, shaking so much they knocked against his plate. Bill, sitting closest to him, immediately reached out to steady him.

“Dad,” Bill said quietly, urgently. “Maybe we should get you some rest.”

Arthur shook his head, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though his voice wavered. “I just… I need a minute.”

“Arthur, please, you look like a ghost,” Molly said, her voice breaking as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. “Please, sit down.”

But Arthur was already standing, his movements shaky and unsteady. “I’ll be in the shed,” he muttered, his voice distant. “Just… need some air.”

Charlie stood up at once, his face tight with concern. “I’ll go with him,” he said, already making his way to the door. He shot a glance at Bill and Ron before following their father outside.

The kitchen felt emptier without them.

A heavy silence filled the room until George, who had been quiet the entire time, let out a low, broken laugh. “So Percy was a hero,” he muttered, his voice thick with guilt. “And we treated him like rubbish. Threw it all back in his face.”

“My baby,” Molly cried, her face crumpling as the tears came harder. “All my children are brave. Of course Percy would help people, of course he would.” Her voice broke into a sob, and she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. “He’s always been good… always doing what was right.”

At that moment, George’s face crumpled too. He stood up and quickly moved to his mother’s side, kneeling beside her and wrapping her in a tight hug. Molly sobbed into George’s shoulder, her hands clutching at his shirt as though she were trying to hold onto something solid in the midst of all the pain. “My Percy… my poor boy,” she wept, her voice muffled.

Bill rose to his feet, trying to bring some calm back into the room. “Alright,” he said quietly, though his own voice wavered. “We’re all exhausted. Let’s try to get some rest. We can talk more in the morning.”

“But Dad—” Ginny began, her gaze fixed on the door where Arthur had disappeared.

“Charlie’s with him,” Bill said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be alright. Let’s just… take a breath.”

George pulled back from Molly, his face wet with tears, and stood up abruptly. “I’m going to St. Mungo’s,” he muttered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Fred shouldn’t be there alone. And… Percy needs someone too.”

Molly nodded quickly through her tears. “Yes… yes, please. Make sure Fred’s alright. Here take some food for him. And Percy… oh, my Percy.”

Without another word, George gathered his things and left, leaving behind a suffocating silence.

Ron stood slowly, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him like a heavy cloak. He thought about all the times he’d dismissed Percy, all the times he’d called him boring, rigid, or cowardly. Now, it felt like someone was twisting a knife in his gut.

Ginny sniffled beside him, her face pale and drawn. “How could we not know?” she whispered, her voice full of anguish. “How could we not see?”

Bill gently urged everyone toward the stairs. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get some rest. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

Ron followed silently, feeling the guilt and grief settle deep inside him. As he climbed the stairs to his room, his mind kept circling back to Percy, everything he hadn’t understood, everything he’d misjudged. Now, he just prayed it wasn’t too late to make things right.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since that fateful dinner when they learned about Percy. Arthur Weasley stepped quietly into Percy’s hospital room, his heart heavy with a familiar ache. Percy lay still, the only sounds being the gentle rhythm of his breathing and the occasional soft sound from the monitoring spells.

Arthur wasn’t surprised to see Oliver Wood sitting at Percy’s side, his hand resting gently on Percy’s arm. What did catch him off guard was the look on Oliver’s face, tired, tense, and guarded. As Arthur approached, Oliver glanced up, his expression cool, distant, though not exactly unkind. It was clear, though, that Oliver wasn’t sure how to feel about him being there.

"Oliver," Arthur greeted softly, trying to sound warm, though his own nerves betrayed him. "How is he?"

Oliver nodded slightly, his voice low. "No change." He looked down at Percy, his thumb brushing over Percy’s hand absentmindedly. "He’s a fighter, though. Always has been."

Arthur felt a pang of guilt shoot through him. “That he is.” There was a silence that felt heavy between them, unspoken words hovering just beneath the surface.

Arthur hesitated, then said, “You’ve been here a lot, I see. I’m... I’m grateful. He’s lucky to have someone like you by his side.”

Oliver didn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightened, and Arthur could sense the weight Oliver was carrying, the pain barely hidden beneath his calm facade.

“I know things with Percy haven’t always been... easy,” Arthur continued, his voice faltering slightly. “But I hope you know that we love him. He’s family. We’ve always loved him. Even if we didn’t show it enough.”

Oliver’s eyes snapped up at that, sharp and filled with an emotion Arthur couldn’t quite place. It was more than anger. Hurt, perhaps. And something deeper, disappointment.

“Loved him?” Oliver repeated, his voice suddenly trembling. “Did you? Because if you ask him, if he could tell you right now, he wouldn’t say he felt very loved.”

Arthur’s heart clenched. “I know... we made mistakes. I made mistakes.”

Oliver’s eyes were wet now, and his voice cracked as he spoke, words tumbling out faster than he could hold them back. “Percy tried. He tried so damn hard to be what you wanted him to be. All he ever wanted was for you to be proud of him. But no matter what he did, it was never enough, was it?”

Arthur’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected the rawness of Oliver’s words to hit him so hard.

“When the fight happened, when he walked out, it wasn’t because he didn’t believe in Harry or any of that,” Oliver continued, his voice rising with emotion. “It was because you thought he would spy on you for Fudge. Like he wasn’t capable of making his own choices, or that he didn’t have the skill to stand on his own. Even though he ran a whole office on his own at the Ministry, you... you still treated him like his wrong, not enough. Like he didn't belong.”

Arthur’s throat tightened painfully. He felt each word like a blow, his guilt swelling inside him. “I... I never meant to make him feel that way. I was angry, and I didn’t think—”

“But you did!” Oliver interrupted, his voice breaking. “You, and others, blamed him for Crouch, for not knowing about the man he barely knew. You threw that in his face when he was doing everything he could to make you proud of him! And what did he get in return? Mockery, being shut out, belittled. And yet...” Oliver’s voice trembled. “He never stopped trying. Even when you all ignored him, he still kept going. He wanted to be part of your family so badly.”

Arthur couldn’t speak. His chest ached, the weight of his failure pressing down on him. He reached for words, anything to take away the hurt, but nothing felt like enough.

Oliver was crying now, silent tears spilling down his cheeks as he looked at Percy. “He’s the most polite, hardworking, and kind person I’ve ever known. What does it matter if he’s more straight-laced, if he follows rules, or if his interests are different from yours? He’s stubborn, sure, but... he’s good. And I love him for it. I don’t want him to change. I love him.”

Arthur’s own eyes filled with tears, and he stepped closer, gently placing a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “You’re right,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I've...I’ve... I’ve been stubborn too. Too proud. Too angry. And I failed him.”

Oliver looked at Arthur through his tears, his defenses lowering as the older man’s remorse became clear.

“I’ve always been proud of him,” Arthur said quietly, his voice trembling. “I didn’t say it enough, and that’s my fault. But I have been. He’s smart, and brave, and he’s done more than I ever realized. I love him so much, and I’m sorry, so, so sorry, for the pain I caused him.”

Arthur pulled Oliver into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around him as Oliver broke down, the weight of his emotions spilling over. Arthur held him as he cried, tears running down his own face as well. “He’s going to be okay,” Arthur whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it for Oliver’s sake or his own. “He’s going to make it through this, and when he wakes up, we’ll make sure he knows just how much he’s loved. By all of us.”

Oliver sobbed quietly into Arthur’s shoulder, crumbling as he clung to the older man. “I can’t lose him,” he whispered.

“You won’t lose him,” Arthur said firmly, pulling back just enough to look Oliver in the eyes. “And I’m glad, so glad, that he has you. You care for him in ways I should have all along, and for that, I’m grateful.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of their shared grief and guilt settling between them. Arthur glanced at Percy, lying so still, and his heart ached with the knowledge of how much he had missed, how much of Percy’s pain had gone unnoticed.

Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. “I’ve seen how much you love him, Oliver. And if the two of you are together, if Percy’s found someone who cares for him like you do, that’s all I could ever hope for.” His voice was soft, but steady. “All I want is for him to be happy. And if you’re the one who makes him happy, then that’s more than enough for me.”

Oliver blinked at Arthur, his expression softening as he wiped at his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I just want him to know... that he’s enough. Just as he is.”

“He will,” Arthur said gently, squeezing Oliver’s shoulder. “And when he wakes up, we’ll all tell him. Together.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, side by side, the room filled only with the steady sound of Percy’s breathing, the quiet hope that things would be different when he finally opened his eyes.

Chapter Text

It was late, the kind of quiet that made the ticking of the clock on the wall sound too loud, too insistent. Fred sat beside Percy’s hospital bed, his sketches sprawled haphazardly across his lap. He wasn’t really drawing anymore, he hadn’t been for hours, but he kept his quill moving, trying to give his hands something to do, anything to distract him from the constant ache in his chest.

Percy lay still, his face pale and almost serene under the dim light. The steady hum of the spells monitoring him was the only thing keeping Fred grounded. He sighed, glancing down at the half-finished ideas he had for the shop. A smile tugged weakly at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I wish you were awake, Perce,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence. “You’d have some genius idea to fix all this. You were always the smart one.”

Fred leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment. “You know, you’d be great at this. All this transfiguration stuff for the joke shop... you always had a way of making magic look effortless. You’d probably come up with some clever way to make it explode in people’s faces... but, like, in a good way.” He chuckled weakly, the sound thin, almost hollow.

His gaze dropped back to Percy, and the weight of everything hit him again, harder than before. “I wish I had seen it earlier, mate. How much you were doing. You were out there trying to save people, doing your best while we thought... I thought you were just following orders like some coward.” He swallowed thickly, his throat tight. “But you weren’t, were you? You were out there fighting in your own way, keeping people safe.”

“And before that. You cared for us. You were nagging, yes, but you cared, and we thought you were annoying. We believed you thought you were better than us, but...” Fred rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling cold despite the warmth of the room. “You saved me, Perce. I...” He let out a shaky breath. “I just... I just wish I’d been there for you, too.”

The steady rhythm of the monitoring spells suddenly shifted, the soft beeps growing quicker, sharper. Fred’s heart lurched in his chest. “Percy?” he said, his voice rising with panic. He shot up from his chair, eyes darting to the machines, but he didn’t know what to make of the sounds. “What’s happening? Are you okay? Please be okay.” He fumbled for the call button to summon a healer, his hands shaking.

But the moment he pressed it, he heard something, a soft, weak noise that made him freeze.

Percy’s eyelids fluttered.

“Percy?” Fred’s breath caught. He stepped closer, almost afraid to believe what he was seeing. And then, slowly, Percy’s eyes opened, just a crack, but enough for Fred to feel his entire world shift.

“Oh, Merlin,” Fred breathed, a wide grin breaking across his face, though it was quickly followed by a flood of tears. “Percy! You’re awake!” Without thinking, he practically threw himself over his brother, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. “Thank Merlin, thank everything, I thought...Godrick, I thought I lost you.”

He clung to Percy like he might disappear again if he let go, his emotions overwhelming him. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you, Perce,” Fred said, his voice thick with tears. “I’ve been so bloody scared, mate. You can’t do that to me. You’re not allowed to leave us again, you hear?”

Fred pulled back just enough to look at Percy’s dazed, confused face. “I’m so happy you’re alive,” Fred whispered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I don’t even care if you think I’m being a sap right now. I love you, Perce. You saved me and...and now it’s my turn to look after you, alright?”

He laughed through his tears, the weight of the past few weeks lifting just a little. “You’re stuck with me now, you git.”

Percy's eyes were unfocused as he hoarsely said, “Can I have my glasses?”

“Yes, yes, of course, here. They… they broke during the battle, but I fixed them. See?”

“Thank you, Fred,” Percy smiled weakly. “And some water would... would be nice.” His voice was small, and he looked tired, but he was awake, and that was all Fred cared about.

Fred helped him drink some water, and Percy closed his eyes again for a moment.

“What happened?” Before Fred could answer, the door swung open, and a healer stepped in, wand in hand, immediately moving to Percy’s side. “How long has he been conscious?” she asked, her voice calm and professional.

“Just a minute,” Fred replied, his voice shaky but full of barely contained excitement. “He opened his eyes, asked for his glasses and water. I...he’s really awake.”

The healer nodded, already performing a series of diagnostic spells over Percy, her face unreadable as she worked. “I’ll need to run a few checks to make sure everything is stable. Do you want us to contact your family, or would you prefer to do it?”

Fred swallowed hard, emotions swirling inside him, but there was only one answer. “I’ll do it,” he said, a shaky smile tugging at his lips.

He stepped back, giving the healer space to work, but his legs felt wobbly, his mind still whirling with everything that had just happened. Was Percy really okay? Could it all still go wrong? He forced himself to focus.

He raised his wand and a silvery magpie burst from the tip, wings glistening in the dim light of the hospital room. Fred took a deep breath, speaking softly but urgently. “Percy woke up. He’s okay...I think. He asked for his glasses and water, so he must be okay. Come!”

The magpie disappeared in a flash, heading toward The Burrow. Fred watched it go, feeling the tension in his chest loosen slightly, but there was still a knot of worry buried deep. He glanced over at Percy, still lying still as the healer worked, and rubbed his hands over his face. Everything had to be fine now. It had to be.

The familiar warmth of the Burrow’s kitchen enveloped Arthur as he sat at the table, watching Molly stir the pot on the stove. Ginny and Ron were speaking quietly with Hermione and Harry, their voices a soft murmur in the background. Charlie was tinkering with something on the sofa. It felt almost normal. Too normal.

That’s when the Patronus arrived.

Fred’s voice rang out, his usually mischievous tone tinged with an urgency that made Arthur’s heart skip a beat. The silver shape of his Patronus stood in the middle of the room, shimmering faintly as Fred’s words echoed in the air. “Percy woke up. He’s okay...I think. He asked for his glasses and water, so he must be okay. Come!”

The message hung in the room for a second too long. Arthur stood abruptly, knocking his chair back. His heart raced, the relief almost overwhelming, but beneath it was something heavier. Guilt. Regret. Uncertainty. His hands shook slightly as he reached for his wand.

Ginny was already on her feet, her face a mixture of shock and hope. "Percy’s awake?" she shouted, almost as if she couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, he’s awake,” Molly said, her voice trembling as she clasped her hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. “Thank Merlin.”

The urgency hit all of them at once. Ron immediately pulled out his wand and sent a Patronus of his own to George and Bill, his face tight with determination. "I’ll get them. They’ll meet us at the hospital."

Molly was already halfway out the door, her apron still tied around her waist, but she didn’t care. "We have to go," she said breathlessly. "We need to be there."

Arthur felt rooted to the spot for a moment, the shock of it all paralyzing him. Percy’s awake. His mind raced. He had been waiting for this moment, praying for it. But now that it was here, an uncomfortable knot of fear and guilt twisted in his stomach. He hadn’t spoken to Percy properly in so long. What would he even say?

"Arthur," Molly’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see her standing by the door, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope. "We need to go."

He nodded quickly, his mind snapping back to the present. I have to send a message to Oliver, Percy would want to see him.

He barely noticed Ron rushing to grab his cloak or Ginny pulling hers around her shoulders, Charlie and Molly were already out. His hand shook slightly as he conjured his Patronus, the familiar figure of a weasel shimmering in front of him. “Oliver... Percy is awake. He would be happy to see you.”

Before the Patronus had even disappeared, the rest of the family was already out the door. The Burrow felt strangely empty, quiet without the usual bustle. Arthur lingered for just a second longer, staring at the space where his Patronus had vanished. His heart ached. Percy’s awake, he repeated to himself, as if saying it over and over would make it easier to bear. But as he closed the door behind him, he couldn’t shake the heaviness in his chest.

The walk to St. Mungo’s was fast, each step filled with an urgency that made Arthur’s head spin. When they finally arrived, it felt like the world had slowed. Bill, George, and Fleur were already there, their faces tight with worry but softened by relief. Fred was pacing near the door, running his hands through his hair anxiously, but when he saw the rest of the family, he stopped, giving a brief nod.

Arthur felt his heart hammering as they approached Percy’s room. His son was awake. After all this time. But the closer they got, the heavier Arthur’s steps became. What would he say to Percy after everything that had happened between them? Could he even face him?

When they reached the room, Arthur hovered at the doorway, his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes fell on Percy. He looked so small in the bed, pale and fragile. Molly had already rushed to his side, sitting beside him, her hand smoothing his hair gently. "Percy," her voice breaking as she stroked his head. "Oh, my boy..."

Percy’s eyes fluttered open slowly, his face drawn and exhausted. He blinked, as though trying to focus, his gaze shifting around the room. He looked so tired. "Mum..." His voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to make Molly sob in relief.

Arthur stayed near the door, unable to move closer. He watched as one by one, the others gathered around Percy, crowding the bedside, their relief palpable.

Ginny, her eyes wide with worry, slipped onto the edge of Percy’s bed, her small hand resting on his leg. "Are you really okay?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

Percy gave her a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "I’m... fine. Just tired."

Ron, standing at the foot of the bed, looked as though he didn’t know what to say. His face was tight with emotion, but he nodded slowly. "We were so worried."

Percy blinked again, his face still pale as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "What... what happened with Voldemort? Is Oliver okay? Penny? Audrey?" he asked, his voice so soft it was almost hard to hear.

"Everything is fine," Ron answered quickly, trying to force a smile. "They’re safe. It’s over. Voldemort’s gone."

“What... what happened?” Percy asked again, his voice tired. The soft conversation about the events Percy had missed continued, and the weight of those words sank into the room. Percy’s eyes flickered with something, relief, maybe, or disbelief, but then his brow furrowed slightly. “Professor Lupin and Nymphadora... they passed?”

Hermione, who had been standing quietly in the background, nodded. Her voice was thick with emotion when she spoke. “They... they didn’t make it, yeah.”

Percy’s eyes dimmed further, though his exhaustion kept him from reacting more. “They were good people. Tonks... Kingsley said they had a baby,” he murmured.

Bill, standing beside Molly, cleared his throat softly, his voice touched with sadness. “We lost a lot of good people,” he said quietly, lowering his gaze.

Percy’s eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened again, they were filled with pain.

"Are you sre you’re alright?" Ginny asked, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound light.

Percy nodded weakly, but his eyes seemed to drift in and out of focus, barely holding onto the conversation.

"You need rest, you’ve earned it," George muttered, his voice low but tinged with relief. "You gave us all a scare, Perce."

"You saved me. You... you threw yourself on me. You saved my life."

Percy blinked, his eyes flickering between Fred and the others, but there was something in his gaze, something soft and vulnerable. "I... I’m just glad you’re alright," he whispered.

Fred’s usual mischief was gone, replaced by something more serious, more grateful. He reached out awkwardly and ruffled Percy’s hair, a gesture that felt clumsy but filled with affection. "Yeah, well, don’t do it again," Fred muttered, though his voice wavered slightly.

Ginny was quiet, still sitting at the end of the bed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I’m glad you’re here," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "We all are."

Arthur watched it all unfold from the corner, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. This was his son. His Percy. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to step forward. He felt like an outsider in his own family, watching as they all leaned in, surrounding Percy with warmth and love, while he stood frozen, unable to move.

He could feel the guilt tightening around him like a noose. He hadn’t spoken to Percy in so long, hadn’t known how to mend the rift between them. And now that Percy was awake, he didn’t know how to begin. What could he possibly say after everything?

Just then, the door to the room flew open, and Oliver rushed in, his face pale and streaked with tears. His eyes landed on Percy, and without hesitation, he crossed the room in a few quick strides, dropping to his knees beside the bed.

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as Oliver leaned over Percy, his hands trembling as they cupped Percy’s face. "Percy," Oliver whispered, his voice breaking. "Thank Merlin, you’re alright."

Before anyone could react, Oliver kissed Percy, right there, in front of everyone. A deep, desperate kiss, filled with relief and love. The room fell into stunned silence.

Percy blinked slowly, his body relaxing as Oliver pulled back slightly, though his hand remained resting on Percy’s cheek. "I was so scared," Oliver whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I thought I’d lost you."

Percy’s lips curved into a small, tired smile. "I’m alright," he murmured. "I’m alright, love."

The silence in the room stretched on, thick and heavy, no one said a word. Bill and Charlie exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable. Arthur felt something shift inside him, something unexpected. He had known Percy and Oliver were together, but seeing it like this... it made him realize how little he truly knew his son.

Molly, ever the mother, didn’t hesitate. She reached out, her hand still tangled in Percy’s hair, her voice soft and soothing. "Percy needs rest," she said gently, though her voice trembled with emotion. "He’s tired. We should let him sleep."

"I’m staying here tonight," Charlie said firmly, his gaze still fixed on Percy as if he feared his brother might disappear. "To make sure Perce’s alright."

Arthur watched as the family began to move away from the bed, one by one. Fred leaned down first, brushing his hand over Percy’s forehead in an uncharacteristic gesture of affection. "Don’t scare me like that again," he muttered, but there was no bite to his words, only concern.

Ginny kissed Percy’s cheek, her face tight with emotion as she whispered a soft goodbye. Bill placed a strong hand on Percy’s shoulder, his grip firm, a silent promise that he would always be there.

Oliver lingered a moment longer, his hand still holding Percy’s. "I... I can’t stay," he whispered, his voice wavering. "Training starts early. I have to leave by five. I... I’m so sorry." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Percy’s lips, his voice cracking. "Goodnight, Perce. I’ll be back soon. I love you so much. Please, just rest."

Percy’s eyes fluttered shut, the exhaustion finally overtaking him as he gave Oliver a faint nod. "It’s alright," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I love you. Goodnight."

Arthur stood frozen at the door, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched each of his children say their goodbyes. His feet felt like lead, his throat tight with unsaid words. He should step forward. He should say something to Percy. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know how.

"Goodnight," Arthur whispered, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. He wasn’t even sure Percy had heard him, his son’s eyes were already closed, his breathing deep and steady.

The others began filing out of the room, Fred casting one last glance at Percy before disappearing down the hallway. Arthur was the last to leave, his hand on the door handle, his heart heavy with everything he couldn’t say.

Just as he turned to go, he heard it, Percy’s voice, soft and broken, laced with exhaustion and sadness. "So... Dad’s still mad at me?"

The words stopped Arthur in his tracks. His heart clenched painfully in his chest. Percy’s voice was so tired, so sad, yet filled with a quiet resignation, as though he had already accepted that the gap between them would never close. Like he believed Arthur had given up on him.

Arthur’s ears began to buzz, his vision blurring as the guilt swelled inside him. No, he thought desperately. I’m not mad at you, Percy. I haven’t been for a long time. But the words wouldn’t come. He felt frozen, his feet rooted to the floor as his heart broke in his chest.

Charlie’s voice followed, too soft for Arthur to make out the words, but it didn’t matter. Percy believed he was still angry. That was all Arthur could hear.

He closed the door quietly behind him, the weight of his failure pressing down on him like a crushing force. Percy thought he was still angry. Percy believed, after everything, that Arthur hadn’t forgiven him.

The guilt was unbearable. Arthur walked slowly down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. He couldn’t face Percy. Not yet. Not when his son believed the worst of him, and he didn’t have the strength to fix it.

He felt like he was suffocating under the weight of everything he hadn’t said, everything he had let slip through his fingers. His son, his Percy, thought he was still angry.

And Arthur felt like he could not breath.

Chapter Text

It was late morning when Charlie finally returned to the Burrow, the familiar smell of breakfast and the comforting hum of home greeting him as he stepped through the door. The warmth of the kitchen washed over him, easing the tension that had settled in his chest since the night before. He could hear the soft murmur of voices and it made him pause for a moment at the threshold, appreciating the small slice of normalcy amidst the chaos of the past weeks.

"Morning, Charlie," Ginny called out, her voice a little too cheerful as if trying to lift the heaviness in the air. She stood up to give him a quick hug before stepping back to her seat at the table.

"Good morning," Charlie replied, his voice gruffer than he intended. He hadn’t realized just how tired he was until that moment, the weight of everything still pressing heavily on him. His mum hurried over, wrapping him in a hug that lingered a bit longer than usual, her soft sigh of relief filling his ears.

"You’re back," Molly whispered, her hand brushing through his hair like she had done when he was a boy. "Have you eaten?"

Charlie shook his head, but before he could say anything more, Molly was already bustling about, fixing him a plate of eggs and toast. "You need to eat something," she said firmly. "You must be exhausted, dear."

"I’m alright, Mum," he reassured her, though the tiredness in his bones begged to differ. Still, he sat down at the table, grateful for the food in front of him. Ron and Hermione smiled at him, though there was an unspoken tension in the room. Everyone had been on edge since Percy woke up. There was relief, of course, but also the constant worry hanging over them like a storm cloud.

"How’s Percy?" Harry asked softly from his seat, his plate barely touched.

Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He’s alright, I think. Oliver came right after his morning training. He’s with Percy now. He’ll stay with him for a few hours before he has to leave again this afternoon."

Ron spoke up, his voice a little awkward. "I didn’t know Percy was, you know... with Oliver. Not that it matters, of course." He quickly added the last part, his ears turning a faint shade of red as he glanced at his mum.

Molly gave a look, her tone firm but gentle. "Of course it doesn’t."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, her tone thoughtful. "Yeah, I never thought Percy was... you know, gay. I mean, he was with Penelope at school." She smiled slightly at that, her eyes softening and added " But that’s good. I’m glad Percy’s not alone."

"Yeah, me too," Charlie murmured, though his mind was already elsewhere. He had noticed Arthur’s absence from the kitchen. Normally, his dad would be at the table by now, reading the Daily Prophet or tinkering with something. But today, there was no sign of him.

"Where’s Dad?" Charlie asked, glancing around the room.

Molly’s hands stilled for a moment as she set a cup of tea on the table in front of him. "He’s out in the shed," she said quietly, her brow furrowing in concern. "He’s been out there since early this morning."

Charlie nodded, his heart tightening. He knew his dad had been struggling—more than any of them, perhaps—but the conversation they all needed to have hadn’t happened yet. Not really. Percy’s near-death had shaken the entire family, but it had hit Arthur the hardest. It was as if all the words left unsaid, all the years of hurt, had built up into something too big to tackle.

Charlie pushed back from the table, grabbing his tea. "I’ll go talk to him," he said, giving his mum a reassuring smile.

"Take your tea with you," Molly insisted, and Charlie chuckled softly, holding up the mug as he made his way out of the kitchen.

The walk to the shed felt longer than usual, the cool morning air biting at his skin. Charlie could see the outline of the familiar structure in the distance, the place where Arthur always found some peace, some comfort in the midst of chaos. As he neared the shed, he paused at the door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open quietly.

What greeted him inside wasn’t the usual sight of his dad tinkering away with some odd Muggle contraption. Instead, Arthur was sitting hunched over his workbench, his shoulders shaking as soft, broken sobs escaped him. Charlie froze, his heart dropping at the sight. He had seen his dad cry before, small moments, tears shed in private, but this… this was different.

Arthur was openly sobbing, his hands fumbling with some small piece of metal, but it was clear that his mind wasn’t on whatever project he had been working on. His glasses were askew, his face buried in his hands, and the sound of his tears was raw and unfiltered, like something that had been building up for too long.

Charlie felt a surge of panic. He wasn’t used to seeing his dad like this, so vulnerable, so broken. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do, standing frozen in the doorway. But then the protective instinct kicked in, and Charlie quickly crossed the room, setting his mug down before kneeling beside his father.

"Dad," he whispered, reaching out to place a hand on Arthur’s back. "Dad, it’s okay. I’m here."

Arthur flinched slightly at the touch, as if he hadn’t realized Charlie was there. He tried to wipe at his eyes hastily, but the sobs didn’t stop. "I…I’m fine," Arthur choked out, his voice trembling.

But Charlie wasn’t having it. "No, you’re not," he said gently, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on his dad’s back. "It’s alright, Dad. You don’t have to pretend."

Arthur shook his head, his hands still trembling as he tried to regain control. "I just... I don’t know what to do anymore, Charlie," he admitted, his voice cracking. "I don’t know how to fix this."

Charlie’s chest tightened, and without thinking, he wrapped his arms around his father, pulling him into a hug. Arthur stiffened for a moment, but then he relaxed into the embrace, his sobs quieting slightly as he rested his head against Charlie’s shoulder.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The shed was filled with the quiet sounds of Arthur’s broken breaths, the weight of everything unsaid between them pressing down heavily. Charlie didn’t know what to say, so he simply held his dad, letting the silence stretch on, hoping his presence alone was enough to offer some comfort.

Eventually, Arthur pulled back, wiping at his eyes with shaking hands. He looked exhausted, his face pale and drawn, his eyes red from crying. "I’m sorry," Arthur murmured, his voice hoarse. "I didn’t mean for you to see me like this."

"Don’t apologize," Charlie said firmly, his heart aching at the sight of his father looking so broken. "You’ve been holding all of this in for too long. It’s alright to let it out."

Arthur shook his head, his hand trembling as he ran it through his thinning hair. "I don’t know what to say to him, Charlie," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I heard Percy say that… that he thought I was still angry... I just... I froze. I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to say."

Charlie’s eyes widened slightly. “You heard him?”

Arthur nodded miserably, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. “Yes, as we were leaving. I didn’t say anything… I just… I froze. I couldn’t speak. And now he thinks… he thinks I don’t care. After everything. After he almost died, Charlie. He almost died, and he thinks I’m still angry.”

Charlie swallowed the lump in his throat, his own emotions rising to the surface. "Dad," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Please go talk with him. It’s torturing both of you."

Arthur’s breath hitched, and he buried his face in his hands again. "He nearly died," Arthur whispered, his voice broken. "He nearly died, and he still thinks I would... that I could still be angry with him. How did I let it get this far? How did I let him believe that I didn’t care about him?"

Charlie’s heart ached as he listened to his father’s words, the guilt weighing heavily in the air between them. "It’s not too late," he said gently. "Percy’s awake. He’s still here. You can fix this, Dad."

Arthur didn’t respond at first, his chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. "I don’t know if I can," he murmured. "I’ve failed him for so long, Charlie. What if I make it worse?"

Charlie shook his head firmly. "You won’t," he said, his voice steady. "Percy just needs to hear it from you."

Arthur looked up, his eyes filled with uncertainty, and Charlie felt a surge of protectiveness. He had always been closer to Bill, but Percy... Percy had always been the one who felt things deeply, even if he didn’t show it. He made him an older brother for the first time. And now, the weight of all those years of distance and hurt were pressing down on him, but especially on Percy and Arthur in a way that neither of them could escape without talking.

Charlie squeezed his father’s shoulder firmly, his voice soft but insistent. “He’s with Oliver now, but Oliver will be leaving around half two. You’ve got time. Please, go and talk to him.”

Arthur’s eyes filled with fresh tears, but this time, there was something else in them too, determination . “Okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Okay, I’ll go.”

Charlie smiled softly, his heart aching for his father. “That’s all you need to do. Just talk to him. He needs to hear it from you.”

Arthur nodded, wiping at his face again. He looked down at the broken clock on the workbench, as though it were the only thing keeping him grounded. “I’ll talk to him,” he repeated, more to himself than to Charlie. “I’ll talk to him.”

There was a beat of silence, the weight of the conversation still heavy in the air. But then Charlie smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “And maybe after that, we can finally fix that oven. It’s been sitting there for years, Dad.”

Arthur let out a soft, watery laugh, the sound a welcome break from the heavy emotion of the moment. “Maybe,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Charlie stood, giving his father’s shoulder a gentle pat before stepping back toward the door. “I’m going to catch a few hours of sleep. Mum will probably send someone to check on you, so don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easily.”

Arthur chuckled, his voice still thick with emotion but lighter now. “I won’t.”

As Charlie stepped out of the shed, the cool morning air hit his face, and for the first time in days, he felt like there was a small glimmer of hope on the horizon. Charlie exhaled, walking back toward the house. He needed sleep, but more than that, he needed the family to come back together.

Percy lay back against the pillows, feeling the warmth of Oliver’s body pressed gently beside him. Oliver had somehow managed to climb into the narrow hospital bed, careful not to disturb any of the healing charms or the soreness in Percy’s side. His arms were wrapped protectively around Percy, holding him close as they lay together in the quiet room. The warmth of Oliver’s breath, the soft rhythm of his chest rising and falling, made Percy feel safe in a way he hadn’t felt in weeks.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Percy whispered, resting his head on Oliver’s chest, closing his eyes for just a moment. The steady heartbeat beneath his ear was comforting, grounding him amidst the swirl of emotions that had overwhelmed him since he woke up. He had never been so happy to see anyone in his life.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Oliver said, his voice soft but sure. He shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to Percy’s temple, and Percy felt a wave of warmth spread through him. "And you’ve got more visitors lined up. Penelope, Audrey, even Nathan, you remember him, right? The bloke from Quidditch. You always liked him."

Percy laughed softly, the sound barely more than a breath. “Nathan? Really?”

"Yeah, he heard what happened and asked if he could visit. I said you’d be up for it, but only if the Healers give you the all-clear. They might even bring some sweets, if you’re allowed."

Percy smiled, feeling both touched and a little overwhelmed. His friends were coming to see him. They cared . And Oliver was here, making everything feel just a little bit easier to bear. But still, there was that nagging feeling, that dark shadow in the back of his mind that wouldn’t let him be fully at peace. His thoughts drifted back to last night, to the silence from his father and the others crowding him like nothing had happened.

“I’d like to see them,” Percy murmured. “It’ll be nice.” He paused, his smile fading slightly. “I don’t know if my family will be here, though. Maybe Fred and George will come. Or my par... Mum.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed, his arms tightening slightly around Percy as he turned his head to look down at him. “What’s wrong, Clementine?” he asked softly, using the nickname that always made Percy smile.

And indeed Percy gave a weak laugh, but it quickly faded as he stared at the ceiling. His throat tightened, and he tried to force the words out without choking on them. “It’s my father. I think... I think he’s still angry with me.”

Oliver pulled back a little, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at Percy properly. His face was filled with concern, his dark eyes soft as they searched Percy’s. “Why do you think that?”

Percy swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in his chest. “Last night... he didn’t say anything. Just ‘goodnight.’ That’s all. I…" His voice cracked slightly, and he cursed himself for feeling so fragile. "I did everything for them, Oliver. For years. I tried my best to make them proud. And it still wasn’t enough.”

Tears stung the corners of Percy’s eyes, and he blinked them back quickly. He hated how vulnerable he felt, how years of trying to prove himself seemed to have collapsed around him in a matter of minutes. “I just... I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for the fight, for leaving. No matter what I do.”

Oliver’s face softened even more, and before Percy could say anything else, Oliver was cupping his cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free. “No, no, don’t say that, love,” Oliver whispered, his voice warm and soothing. “Your dad’s not angry with you. He’s just... well, I think he’s hurting. But he’s going to talk to you, I know he will. He was here almost the entire time you were unconscious, Percy. He was so scared. I promise you, he cares.”

Percy looked up at Oliver, his heart aching with uncertainty. “Do you really think so?”

Oliver nodded firmly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Percy’s forehead. “I know so. You didn’t see him, Perce. And even if things don’t go perfectly with your family, you’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m by your side, always.”

The reassurance settled some of the weight in Percy’s chest, but there was still that nagging voice in the back of his mind, whispering that maybe Arthur was still angry. Maybe that’s why he had been so distant last night, why he hadn’t said anything more than a simple “goodnight.” Percy bit his lip, unable to fully shake the thought.

Oliver must have seen the doubt still lingering in Percy’s eyes, because he leaned down again, his lips hovering just above Percy’s. “Everything’s going to be okay,” Oliver whispered, his voice low and full of quiet determination. “I’ll snog you silly until you believe me.”

Percy couldn’t help but laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “We’re in a hospital, Oliver,” he teased softly, feeling the warmth of Oliver’s breath against his lips. “I just woke up... is this really what you want me for?”

Oliver grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Percy’s lips. “You know it’s more than that,” he murmured, his voice low as he kissed Percy again, slower this time, careful not to hurt him. “But a bit of snogging never hurt anyone.”

Percy smiled into the kiss, his worries momentarily forgotten as Oliver’s hand trailed gently over his back, careful not to put too much pressure on his sore spots. But when Oliver’s hand slid down a little too far, giving his bum a playful squeeze, Percy pulled back, laughing. “Oliver!” he scolded, his cheeks flushed. “We’re in a hospital !”

Oliver grinned, unrepentant, as he leaned in for another kiss. “Doesn’t mean I can’t show my boyfriend some love,” he teased, his voice playful but full of warmth. “I’m just here to make you feel better, Clementine.”

Percy rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. "Well, you're doing a pretty good job so far," he admitted, his heart feeling lighter with Oliver beside him.

Before they could say anything else, the door to the room creaked open, and Percy’s breath caught in his throat as Arthur stepped into the room.

Chapter Text

Percy’s heart leaped in his chest the moment the door opened and Arthur stepped into the room. His father. Alone. The giddiness that bubbled up inside him was quickly tempered by shock, nerves settling like stones in his stomach. It had been so long since they’d been alone together, so long since they had shared anything more than a few words in passing, and now here Arthur was, sitting down next to his bed like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Percy’s throat tightened. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what he was supposed to feel. Relief? Panic? Maybe a bit of both.

Before he could process it, Oliver stirred beside him, sitting up and checking the time. “Ah, bollocks, I’ve got to go,” Oliver muttered, glancing down at Percy with a crooked smile. “Training waits for no man, not even you, Clementine.” He pressed a kiss to Percy’s forehead, lingering just a moment longer than usual, as though reluctant to leave. “I’ll see you later, yeah? I love you.”

Percy managed a small, somewhat stiff nod, still too focused on Arthur’s presence to fully react to Oliver’s goodbye. “Yeah... okay. I love you, too.”

Oliver flashed him a warm smile before standing, giving Arthur a brief nod. “Take care of him, Mr. Weasley,” he said with a smile, then disappeared through the door, leaving Percy and Arthur alone.

The silence in the room felt suffocating.

Arthur shifted awkwardly in his chair, clearing his throat before speaking, his voice quiet but earnest. “Oliver really cares about you. He’s... he seems like a good man.”

Percy blinked, feeling his heart twist painfully in his chest. He wasn’t sure what to make of that comment, wasn’t sure how to respond. His dad was here. Alone. Talking to him about Oliver like it was completely normal. Was that good? Was it just small talk? Percy couldn’t tell.

“He is,” Percy said quietly, his voice hoarse as he stared down at the blanket covering his legs. “He’s... he’s been really great.”

Arthur nodded, the conversation already feeling stilted and awkward. Percy could feel his father searching for something to say, something to fill the silence. “Your mum... she sent food,” Arthur said finally, holding up a small basket. “The Healers said it’s fine for you to eat.”

Percy nodded, still feeling like he was floating somewhere between disbelief and anxiety. His fingers twisted nervously in the blanket, his gaze flicking toward the wall in front of him, avoiding his father’s eyes. “Thank you,” he mumbled, not sure what else to say.

Arthur shifted again in his chair, his movements stiff and uncomfortable. “They’re just keeping you here to be sure, you know. The curse... it’s almost completely gone. The Healers said tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, you’ll be clear to leave.”

Percy’s heart thudded loudly in his chest. He felt both relieved and crushed at the same time. He should be happy to leave, to finally be well enough to go home, but the thought of facing whatever this was with his father, made his throat tighten painfully. He didn’t know if he could handle it.

“Right,” Percy whispered, his voice barely audible as he continued to stare at the wall, his mind racing. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to say, but the words seemed lodged in his throat, stuck under years of guilt and unresolved hurt. His father was here, but it didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel right. And yet, it was what Percy had wanted for so long.

Arthur sat quietly beside him, fiddling with the edge of the basket, as if waiting for something, anything, that might break the tension. The weight of unsaid words pressed heavily between them, thickening the silence to the point of suffocation.

Percy bit his lip, a knot tightening in his stomach. He wanted to ask, Why didn’t you say anything last night? Why didn’t you come to me? But the fear of what Arthur might say held him back. The fear that his father was still angry, still disappointed.

He kept his eyes fixed on the wall, unable to look at his dad, and the silence stretched on, thick with everything Percy couldn’t say.

The silence was unbearable. Percy’s heart thudded painfully in his chest, his eyes still locked on the wall in front of him, desperate for some kind of escape. He could feel Arthur fidgeting beside him, his hands shifting the basket on his lap, the soft rustling filling the room.

Then Arthur spoke, his voice low and trembling. “Percy... I was so scared.”

Percy’s breath caught in his throat, the unexpected vulnerability in his father’s voice cutting through him like a blade. Arthur took a shaky breath, as though gathering the strength to continue.

“When Fred brought you into the Great Hall, after the battle... you were so still, so pale. I thought we lost you.” His voice cracked, and Percy felt the knot in his stomach tighten. “I thought... I thought I lost you for good.”

Percy blinked, his vision blurring as his father’s words sank in. Arthur had been scared. Really scared. But it wasn’t enough to soothe the ache inside him. The memory of last night still gnawed at him, the silence, the absence of the words Percy had so desperately needed to hear.

He felt his throat tighten, his breath coming quicker as emotions rose to the surface, clawing their way up despite his efforts to push them down. His fingers twisted in the blanket again, harder this time, as if he could anchor himself to something, anything.

“Then why...” Percy’s voice wavered, trembling on the edge of tears. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure, but it was slipping away from him, fast. “Why didn’t you say anything last night?”

Arthur turned toward him, his eyes wide with concern, but Percy couldn’t stop now. He felt like he was going to break apart if he didn’t say it.

“You didn’t even say you were happy I was awake... you didn’t say you loved me, something .” His voice cracked, and Percy’s eyes stung as the tears he’d been holding back began to well up. “Are... are you still angry? Is this it? I said I was sorry before the battle, I know we didn’t have enough time to…to do it properly, but I apologized. I…”

His words hung in the air, heavy and fragile, as though they could shatter with the slightest movement. Percy’s heart pounded in his chest, the tears spilling over now, running hot and fast down his cheeks. He could barely see, the blur of the room around him twisting with the weight of everything he had just said.

For a split second, Arthur froze. But then, as though the words had finally broken through, Arthur set the basket down on the floor and moved toward Percy. He reached out, grabbing Percy’s hand tightly, his grip warm and steady despite the tremble in his voice.

“No,” Arthur said urgently, his voice raw and thick with emotion. “No, Percy, please... look at me.”

Percy hesitated, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as he slowly turned his head, his blurry gaze meeting his father’s. Arthur’s eyes were wide, glassy with unshed tears, and the vulnerability Percy saw there, so open, so raw, sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over him.

Arthur’s hand tightened around his, and then he was moving closer, wrapping his arms around Percy and pulling him into a tight embrace. Percy didn’t resist, couldn’t resist, as the tears flowed freely now, his body trembling against his father’s chest.

Arthur’s voice cracked as he whispered, “I’m not angry... I’m not angry at all. I’m so, so sorry.”

Arthur pulled him closer, adjusting so that they were both sitting on the bed, side by side. Percy was pressed against his father’s side, Arthur’s arm wrapped protectively around him, just like he used to hold him when Percy was small, when nightmares had sent him running into his parents’ room.

And just like when he was a child, Percy felt the familiar warmth of his father’s embrace, the safety it had once promised, but now it was different. Now, it was more fragile, more desperate, as though Arthur was clinging to him just as much as Percy was clinging to his father.

Arthur’s tears fell quietly, landing in Percy’s hair as they sat there together. “I love you, Percy. I never stopped loving you.”

Percy’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the comfort of his father’s arms. It had been so long since they’d been like this, so long since Percy had felt this kind of closeness with his dad. He had missed it. He had missed him .

For the first time in what felt like forever, Percy let himself cry.

Percy felt the steady rise and fall of his father’s chest beneath him, the warmth of Arthur’s arm wrapped around his shoulders like a protective shield. The sobs that had racked Percy’s body were slowly subsiding, but his heart was still fragile, as if one wrong word might shatter the delicate moment between them.

Arthur’s voice was thick with emotion, his words trembling but filled with a fierce tenderness that Percy hadn’t heard in years. “I love you, Percy,” Arthur whispered, his grip tightening just slightly. “Even when I was angry, even when things were falling apart between us... I never stopped loving you. You’re my son, and nothing can change that. Nothing.”

Percy blinked, more tears slipping down his cheeks. It was everything he had wanted to hear, everything he had feared wasn’t true. He had spent so long trying to be worthy, trying to make up for the mistakes he thought had pushed his family away. But now, hearing those words from his father... it was like the ground beneath him was slowly, cautiously being rebuilt.

“We both said things we shouldn’t have during that fight,” Arthur continued, his voice breaking as he spoke. “But it wasn’t your fault, Percy. You don’t need to be forgiven.”

Percy’s breath hitched, his mind flashing back to that terrible day, the day he had walked out of the Burrow, his heart heavy with hurt, frustration, anger, and the need to prove himself. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the wound was still fresh. He had always thought the divide was his doing, that he had crossed a line that could never be undone.

Arthur’s hand, still holding his tightly, squeezed again. “But if you think I need to say it, if that’s what you need to hear, then yes. I’ve forgiven you. I forgave you a long time ago. I’m not angry anymore. I haven’t been for a while.”

Percy’s chest tightened, a fresh wave of emotion crashing over him. His father’s words were like ba lm on a wound he hadn’t realized was still festering. He had always feared that the anger, the disappointment, would be something that could never fully go away. But now…

Arthur sat in stunned silence, feeling the weight of Percy’s head resting against his shoulder. The moment felt fragile, like a thread that could snap at any moment. He thought they were finally making progress, finally breaking through the wall that had kept them apart for so long. But then Percy’s voice, quiet at first, broke through the silence, trembling with an emotion that Arthur hadn’t expected.

“I am,” Percy whispered, his breath hitching slightly. “I am angry.”

Arthur froze, his heart tightening in his chest. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond to the rawness in Percy’s voice. The softness of the moment was gone, replaced by a tension that made Arthur feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, not knowing if he would fall or be pulled back.

Percy shifted slightly, lifting his head from Arthur’s shoulder, his voice growing firmer, more insistent. “I’m angry that you thought I would spy on you. I’m angry that I never felt included in the house. That everyone was always mocking me or belittling me, calling me boring... all the jokes were at my expense.”

Arthur’s heart sank, and he felt a cold, sinking sensation deep in his stomach. He had always thought Percy was strong enough to brush off the jokes, that he was indifferent to them. Oliver had told him that Percy was deeply hurt, but hearing Percy say it now, with so much pain laced in every word, Arthur realized how wrong he had been.

Percy’s voice cracked slightly, but he kept going, his words gaining momentum as though they had been bottled up for too long. “Even you and Mum were laughing. You laughed at me too.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but no words came. His throat tightened painfully as Percy continued, his tone turning more bitter, more wounded with each passing moment.

“I’m angry that yesterday everyone was here, acting like nothing happened. Like they weren’t the ones sending letters to my job. Like they weren’t sending rubbish to my office even before the fight. Calling me a prat, a git, a show-off. Ignoring me.”

Percy’s voice wavered, the bitterness deepening. “Everyone else could show off, about Quidditch, about chess, about their jobs, their pranks, but not me. Never me. I wasn’t allowed to have a moment at home, to feel proud of anything.”

Arthur’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind reeling. He had never seen how Percy had been pushed aside, left to feel invisible in his own home.

“I’m angry that Bill and Charlie never answered my letters. That Ron never appreciated my help, or wanted it.” Percy’s breath came faster now, as though he was running out of air, his words tumbling out in a rush. “Like I was a mistake, or a burden in the house.”

Arthur’s mind raced, trying to grasp onto something, some way to respond. But he was frozen, pinned under the weight of everything Percy was saying. It was like hearing everything for the first time, things he hadn’t even realized were happening. He had been so focused on keeping the family together, that he hadn’t seen how deeply they had all hurt him.

Percy’s voice cracked again, the pain in it so palpable that it felt like a physical blow. “I left because I couldn’t take it anymore. I hate that you mocked me for being a try-hard. Because I am a try-hard. I didn’t understand... I couldn’t understand what else you wanted from me.”

Arthur’s stomach twisted painfully, guilt surging through him as he remembered all the times they had teased Percy, thinking it was harmless, thinking Percy knew how much they loved him. But maybe he hadn’t. Maybe none of them had shown him the love he deserved.

Percy’s breathing grew heavier, as if the weight of his own words was suffocating him. “I had to almost die for you to care.”

Those words, those final, heartbreaking words, hung in the air like a dark cloud, heavy and oppressive. Arthur felt as though the world had stopped, the floor beneath him shifting. Percy wasn’t shouting, but the hurt, the devastation in his voice was louder than any shout could have been.

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as he sat there, staring at Percy, utterly shocked, utterly heartbroken. He had never known. He had never realized how deeply Percy had been wounded, how invisible they had made him feel.

Percy had always seemed so serious, so rigid, always following the rules, always doing what was asked of him. Arthur had thought that was who Percy was , that he liked structure, that he was proud of his achievements. But now, hearing him speak, Arthur realized just how much they had all misunderstood him. Percy had been the one keeping things in order, cleaning, studying, making sure his younger siblings stayed out of trouble. He had been the responsible one, the one holding himself to impossible standards, and instead of recognizing that, they had teased him, mocked him, made him feel like he wasn’t enough.

Arthur’s heart felt heavy in his chest, like a weight pressing down on him, suffocating him. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to fix the damage. He wanted to tell Percy that he was wrong, that they had always cared, always loved him, but now, hearing everything laid bare, Arthur wasn’t sure that was enough. He wasn’t sure any words could make up for it.

He looked at Percy, who sat there, his face flushed with emotion, his eyes full of sadness, anger, and years of hurt that Arthur hadn’t even known existed.

And in that moment, Arthur realized just how much he had failed him.

Each word from Percy cut deeper than the last, piercing through him with a weight he hadn’t been prepared for. His son was sitting next to him, unraveling in front of him, and all Arthur could feel was helplessness. It was like watching something break that he didn’t know how to fix.

Percy was shaking now, his voice cracking as he spoke, the pain evident in every syllable. “I know you saw me at Bill’s wedding,” Percy whispered, his breath hitching. His eyes were red, his face flushed, and Arthur could see him struggling to hold back the flood of emotions. “You looked at me... and then you turned around.”

Arthur’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. The memory flashed in his mind, the moment he’d spotted Percy at the edge of the crowd during the wedding. The same Percy who had walked out of their lives. He had seen him, had felt the surge of conflict in his chest, the anger…but he didn’t do anything. He’d turned away, burying the turmoil inside, convincing himself there wasn’t time for confrontation at a wedding. But now, hearing Percy say it... hearing the pain in his voice...

“You knew, didn’t you?” Percy’s voice wavered, the raw edge of betrayal cutting through. “You saw me. You knew I was there. Why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you try to talk to me, even once?”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. His throat felt tight, constricted by guilt. He had no good answer. He had let his anger, his stubbornness, his pride, get in the way of reaching out to his son, and now, sitting here, he could see the consequences of it so clearly.

“When Bill had that fight with you and Mum, before he left for Egypt...” Percy’s voice trembled again, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “You spent the whole night searching for him. You went after him…but you didn’t come after me. You never came.”

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded as he remembered that frantic night, scouring the streets for Bill after that blowout fight. Bill had stormed off, angry and defiant, and Arthur hadn’t been able to sleep until he knew his son was safe. But Percy... Percy had left, and Arthur hadn’t chased after him. He had been so angry, so hurt by what Percy had said, that he had convinced himself it was Percy who needed to make the first move. 

Percy’s voice cracked, the dam finally breaking as tears spilled down his cheeks. “Yes, I said things I shouldn’t have. But so did you! So did Mum, so did everyone, and no one cared. I wanted to hurt you that day... and then I left.” He was openly crying now, his chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. “But you didn’t come. Only Mum came. Only Mum.”

Arthur’s heart twisted painfully as he listened. He could barely breathe through the guilt that was suffocating him. Molly had tried to talk with Percy after he left, but Arthur hadn’t. He had stood back, waiting for Percy to come back on his own, too angry and too stubborn to go after him.

Percy wiped at his face, his voice thick with emotion. “Mum... she was the only one who ever stood up for me, even if it wasn’t much. And I know—” Percy paused, choking back a sob. “I know she told you to buy me Hermes. Didn’t she? It wasn’t your idea.”

Arthur felt his chest tighten even more, shame filling him as he remembered. Molly had told him to buy Hermes. But Arthur… he hadn’t thought Percy would even care, about whose idea was it, really. And now, hearing how Percy saw it...

“And even in the letter she sent me that Christmas with the jumper,” Percy’s voice grew hoarse, as though he was fighting through every word. “She said, ‘Don’t be stubborn. If you apologize, everything will be okay.’” Percy’s breath hitched, his voice breaking again. “Why did I always have to be the one to apologize? Why was it always on me? No one ever apologized to me, not once, even when I was hurting.”

Arthur’s heart shattered. He felt as though he had failed on every front. Percy had been holding all of this inside for so long, and they had never even seen it. They had never seen him . Percy had always been so serious, so diligent, so focused on doing everything right, that Arthur had assumed he didn’t need more. They had left him feeling alone. Unseen.

Percy’s shoulders were shaking as he sobbed, his words barely audible through the tears. “You didn’t care. You didn’t come after me.”

Arthur’s chest constricted painfully, tears blurring his own vision as he reached for Percy, pulling him into a tight embrace. “I did care, Percy. I care so much.” His voice broke as he held Percy, feeling his son’s body tremble against his own. “I’m so sorry.”

Arthur’s heart felt like it was breaking in two. He pressed his cheek against the top of Percy’s head, the guilt and regret overwhelming him. “I’m sorry I didn’t come after you. I’m sorry I didn’t see what you needed.”

Percy sobbed harder, his fingers clutching Arthur’s shirt as though he was holding on for dear life. Arthur held him tighter, his own tears spilling freely now, his chest heaving as he tried to speak through the pain.

“I know... I know that no matter how many times I say I’m sorry, it won’t take it back. I can’t undo what happened. I hurt you, Perce. I…”

Arthur’s voice cracked again, the weight of his failure pressing down on him like a physical force. “But please, please don’t think for a second that I don’t love you. I love you, Percy. I’ve always loved you.”

Percy didn’t respond, just sobbed quietly into Arthur’s chest. Arthur held him tighter, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke through his own tears. “You don’t have to forgive me….us. I understand if you can’t. You have every right to be angry. I was angry too. But please, just know... I love you. I love you so much, Percy. And your mum, your siblings... even if they didn’t show it right, they love you too.”

Arthur was ravaged, torn apart by his own guilt, by the realization of how deeply they had failed Percy. He had been so wrapped up in his anger, and fear, in his pride, in the war that he hadn’t seen how Percy had been pushed aside, left to feel like he didn’t belong in his own family. It was as though the past few years were unraveling before him, all the moments they had missed, all the times they had let Percy feel invisible.

“I’m sorry I was angry,” Arthur whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry I didn’t see how much you were hurting. You can stay angry. But please... don’t think I don’t care. Don’t think I don’t love you.”

Arthur’s own tears mixed with Percy’s as they sat there, the enormity of their pain shared between them, raw and unspoken for too long. He had failed his son in more ways than he could count, and no matter how many times he said he was sorry, he knew it would never be enough to undo the years of hurt.

For now, all he could do was hold Percy and hope, hope that somehow, despite everything, Percy could feel the love he had for him.

Arthur sat there, unmoving, as Percy’s breathing began to calm, the earlier tremors of emotion fading. His son’s head rested against his shoulder, and Arthur held him tightly, afraid that if he let go, the weight of everything Percy had said would crush them both. The room was quiet, but Arthur’s thoughts were racing, filled with guilt, shame, and an overwhelming sense of failure. Percy had revealed years of hurt, of feeling invisible, and Arthur could barely breathe under the weight of it.

How had I failed so badly?

Arthur’s arms tightened around Percy, as though holding him a little closer could somehow undo the damage that had been done. He had always prided himself on being a good father, on being someone his children could rely on. But now, holding Percy like this, Arthur felt the sharp sting of failure. He hadn’t seen it, hadn’t seen how alone Percy had felt. He had been too angry, too blinded by his own pain to see his son’s.

Arthur took a deep breath, steadying himself before he spoke. His voice was quiet, but there was a rawness to it that Percy needed to hear. “I’m so sorry, Percy,” he whispered, his hand still gently stroking Percy’s hair. “I was angry. I was hurt. And I let that anger blind me. I should have been there for you. But instead, I let you think you weren’t enough. I let you think we didn’t care.”

Percy didn’t say anything, but his grip on Arthur’s shirt tightened slightly, his body still trembling with the weight of their conversation.

“I didn’t see how much we hurt you,” Arthur continued, his voice cracking. “I didn’t realize how unappreciated you felt. And I’m ashamed to say... that for a moment, I let myself believe the worst about you.”

Arthur’s chest tightened with guilt, but he forced himself to go on. Percy needed to hear this, needed to know the truth. “I... I thought you might side with the Ministry if it benefited you. I let myself think that, even for just a moment. And I’ve never been more ashamed. You’ve never been a coward. You’ve never been disloyal. And I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.”

Percy shifted slightly, but he still didn’t speak, his head pressed against Arthur’s chest as if he were holding on to every word. Arthur felt the tremble in his son’s body, and his heart ached.

“I was so angry when you left,” Arthur admitted, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t understand why you wouldn’t stand with us, why you didn’t see things the way we did. I was so sure we were right that I didn’t stop to ask why you couldn’t follow us. I didn’t ask what you needed.”

Arthur swallowed hard, feeling the sting of unshed tears behind his eyes. “You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve to feel like you weren’t part of the family, like we didn’t see you. You were always doing the right thing, always trying to help, and we pushed you aside.”

The room was silent except for the soft sound of their breathing, but Arthur could feel the tension in Percy’s body, the rawness of everything they had just talked about still lingering in the air. 

“Kingsley and Audrey told us everything, you know,” Arthur whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “About what you did during the war. And when I found out, Percy, I felt like the worst father in the world.”

Percy shifted again, his grip on Arthur loosening slightly as he seemed to take in his father’s words. Arthur held him tighter, not wanting to let go of the moment.

“But I was also so proud of you,” Arthur continued, his voice breaking. “So, so proud. I should have been proud of you all along. You didn’t need to prove anything to us. You never did.”

Arthur could feel Percy’s breath hitch slightly against his chest, but still, his son didn’t speak. Arthur pressed on, the words spilling out now in a rush. “You didn’t need to save Fred to prove you loved us. I am so glad both you and Fread are here with us, but you didn’t need to put your life on the line for us to see you. We should have been proud of you for the person you were, for everything you’ve done. I am proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you. I just... I didn’t say it enough.”

Percy’s head lifted slightly, his face still pressed into Arthur’s shoulder, and Arthur could feel the slight tremble in his son’s body ease just a little.

“I don’t need you to prove anything to me,” Arthur whispered, his voice soft but resolute. “I know who you are, Percy. I know what you’re capable of. And I’m sorry it took me so long to see it.”

There was a long silence, the weight of the words settling between them, and Arthur felt Percy’s grip tighten again around him. His son’s breathing had slowed, but Arthur could feel the emotion still radiating off of him.

Arthur pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Percy’s head, his chest tight with emotion. “I’m not going to fail you again,” he whispered. “I’m going to fix this. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Percy didn’t respond, but Arthur could feel the way his son’s body relaxed just slightly against him, the tension that had been there for so long finally starting to ease.

“I love you, Perce,” Arthur said again, his voice filled with determination. “I’m going to make this better. I promise.”

Percy’s hand tightened around Arthur’s, “I love you too.”

For the first time in what felt like years, Arthur allowed himself to hope. They still had so far to go, but for the first time, it felt like there was a path forward.

Arthur sat there, holding his son close, he didn’t know exactly how to fix everything, didn’t know all the answers, but he was sure of one thing: he wasn’t going to fail Percy again. He wasn’t going to let him feel alone.

Not anymore.

Chapter Text

After a long, emotional silence, Arthur finally stirred, his arms loosening around Percy as he shifted on the bed. "Well," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that hadn’t been there before, "I suppose we ought to eat, or Mum will have both our heads for letting her food go cold."

Percy gave a small, tired smile, his eyes still glassy from everything they had shared, but the tension between them had lessened, replaced with something softer, something they hadn’t felt in years. Arthur rose from the bed, making his way over to the basket of food Molly had packed. He opened it, the familiar smell of home-cooked meals filling the air.

As he began setting out the plates, Arthur glanced at Percy, a question that had been lingering in the back of his mind coming to the surface. “You know, Percy,” he started, his tone gentle but curious, “I didn’t know you liked boys. I remember your siblings mentioning you were dating Penelope at one point.”

Percy stiffened slightly at the mention of Penelope and looked down at his hands, his face flushing a light pink. “Penny is my best friends, since out first day on the train you know,” Arthur could see the nervousness in his son’s posture, and it tugged at his heart. “I didn’t say anything about Oliver,” Percy admitted, his voice hesitant, “because... well, I didn’t know how you’d react. Liking men... I didn’t know if you’d…” He trailed off, biting his lip before continuing. “And the others would have a field day with it, so I just... I didn’t say anything.”

Arthur’s heart sank again. Merlin, how many times had he let Percy feel alone in his own family? He sighed deeply, setting the plate down on the bedside table and turning back to face Percy. “Oh, Percy,” Arthur said, shaking his head, his voice full of regret. “I’m so sorry. I’ve let things get so strained between all of you, between us. I never wanted you to feel like you couldn’t talk to me about anything.”

He sat back down beside Percy, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my son, Percy. It doesn’t matter if you like men or women. What matters is that you’re happy, and that you’re loved. That’s all your mum and I ever wanted for you.”

Percy swallowed, his face still flushed, but there was a flicker of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you’d... approve,” he admitted, his voice small.

Arthur’s expression softened, and he couldn’t help but smile a little, though there was still sadness behind his eyes. “Your mum might have a problem with it,” he said, trying to ease the tension with a bit of humor, “but not because you’re gay. Only because she thinks no one is good enough for her children.”

Percy glanced up, and Arthur chuckled softly, seeing the curiosity in his son’s eyes. “Poor Fleur went through hell before Bill’s incident,” Arthur continued, shaking his head. “Your mum gave her such a hard time, and it wasn’t until that attack that she finally warmed up to her. I had to spend months trying to make her see how much Bill loved her and how much Fleur cared for him.”

Percy smiled at that, a soft laugh escaping him, and the sound warmed Arthur’s heart. “That does sound like Mum,” Percy murmured, his eyes softening with amusement.

Arthur grinned, glad to see Percy’s tension easing. He turned back to the food, setting a plate in front of Percy. “So,” Arthur began, his tone a little lighter now, “when did you and Oliver start going out? I didn’t know you two were friendly, I didn’t realize...”

Percy’s face flushed again, and Arthur saw the bashful smile tug at the corners of his lips. “We started dating in our last year at Hogwarts,” Percy said quietly, as he picked at his food. “We were friends before, but not as close as I was with Penelope. Oliver and I were dormmates, and we ate together sometimes, but we weren’t... you know... that close.”

Arthur nodded, listening intently as he sat down beside Percy, letting his son take his time.

“In our seventh year, Oliver was struggling with a few of his classes,” Percy continued, his voice soft but more assured now. “He was at risk of being removed as Quidditch captain, and... well, I helped him. We spent a lot of time together, and somewhere along the way... it just happened.” Percy’s cheeks flushed deeper as he spoke, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m glad he’s in your life, Percy,” Arthur said warmly, placing a comforting hand on his son’s arm. “I could see how much he cares about you. While you were unconscious, he was beside himself with worry.”

Percy’s eyes widened slightly, his face growing even redder. “He was?”

Arthur nodded, a fond smile spreading across his face. “Oh yes. He didn’t leave your side for hours. He loves you, Percy. That much is clear.”

Percy ducked his head, clearly flustered but with a small, pleased smile playing on his lips. “I love him too,” he admitted, his voice soft and a little shy. “A lot.”

Arthur’s heart swelled at seeing his son’s happiness, a warmth spreading through him that he hadn’t felt in years. Percy deserved this, he deserved to be loved and to love freely, without any fear of judgment. And for the first time in a long time, Arthur felt like he was doing something right by his son.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the tension between them easing, the earlier heaviness replaced by a quiet comfort. Arthur watched as Percy relaxed more, his eyes soft and bright as he talked about Oliver, about their time at school, about how much they meant to each other.

“I’m so proud of you, Percy,” Arthur said again, his voice soft but full of sincerity. “Not just for everything you’ve done, but for the person you are.”

Percy’s eyes glistened slightly at that, and he gave a small, shy smile. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Arthur smiled warmly at his son, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over him. For the first time in what felt like years, they were sitting together, talking openly, without the weight of old hurts hanging over them. There was still more to say, more to work through, but for now, this was enough.

As the last of their meal disappeared, Arthur glanced at the clock on the wall, letting out a quiet sigh. “I should probably get going,” he said gently, though he made no move to stand just yet. His gaze lingered on Percy, a warmth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Your mum wants to come by tomorrow. She's getting anxious, you know how she is. But the Healers said to take it easy today, one visitor at a time, so you don't get overwhelmed.”

Percy gave a small, tired smile, though there was a flicker of something else, something uncertain behind his eyes. Arthur placed a hand on Percy’s shoulder, his touch gentle. “I think Fred will come after they close the shop. He’s... he’s been here a lot, more than anyone, while you were unconscious.”

Percy nodded slightly, not as surprised as Arthur had expected, but still processing the weight of it. Fred had been the first face he had seen when he woke up, and he had felt Fred’s presence more than once in those long, disorienting days. But still, there was a nervousness now, a knot of uncertainty forming in Percy’s chest.

Arthur leaned forward, his expression soft. “I’ve never seen him like this, Percy. I know you two weren’t always the closest, and you had your issues... but maybe, if you talk to him... it’ll do you both some good.”

Percy didn’t respond immediately, his fingers twisting in his lap as he absorbed what Arthur had said. Talking to Fred... It wasn’t that he was dreading it, Fred had been by his side since he woke up, but Percy couldn’t shake the feeling that things were different now. They had changed. The tension from the past still lingered, even if Fred had been there, even if Fred had felt different yesterday.

“Okay,” Percy said softly, though there was a slight edge of hesitation in his voice. Arthur smiled gently, nodding in understanding.

Standing up, Arthur gave Percy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before pulling him into a tight, enveloping hug. Percy stiffened for just a moment, then relaxed, resting his head against his father’s chest.

“I love you so much, Percy,” Arthur whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. He kissed the top of Percy’s head, his lips brushing against his son’s hair, before pulling back slightly to cup Percy’s face in his hands.

He patted Percy’s cheeks gently, his eyes filled with an unspoken mix of pride, love, and regret. Then, as if one kiss hadn’t been enough, Arthur leaned down and kissed Percy’s head again, his hands holding him close. “I love you so much,” he repeated, his voice filled with fierce sincerity. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Percy’s eyes shimmered, the emotion from earlier still lingering, but this time it wasn’t heavy or suffocating, it was warmth. A quiet, comforting warmth that wrapped around him like Arthur’s embrace.

Arthur gave him one last lingering look, his hand resting on Percy’s shoulder for just a moment longer before he finally let go. He stood straight, offering Percy a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said softly, before turning toward the door.

Percy watched as his father left, the warmth of Arthur’s embrace still clinging to him, filling the room even after he was gone.

Percy had fallen into a light sleep after Arthur left, his mind spinning but his body giving into exhaustion. When he woke again, the light outside was dimming, casting soft shadows across the room. He blinked sleepily, his body still tired but his heart lighter after the conversation with his father. He felt... better. Not whole, not yet, but better.

He heard a light knock on the door and sat up, blinking as Fred stepped inside. Percy immediately noticed the way Fred hesitated at the threshold, a rare awkwardness about him. Fred didn’t do awkward. Fred was usually all confidence, all ease, but now, he stood there for a moment, his expression unsure before breaking into a grin that seemed too wide, too fast.

“Percy!” Fred’s voice burst through the room as he strode in, his arms swinging in an exaggerated way that made Percy blink in surprise. “Merlin’s pants, it’s good to see you awake! You’ve missed loads at the shop. George has been trying to brew new concoctions without blowing up the place, unsuccessfully, might I add. There was this one time we accidentally turned a customer purple, well, not accidentally, but you get the point.”

Fred was talking a mile a minute, his words coming so fast Percy could barely keep up. He was laughing, smiling, his eyes sparkling, and Percy’s confusion deepened with every word Fred uttered.

Fred had always been like this, always happy-go-lucky, always careening through life with that easy, carefree energy. But Percy knew Fred and George talked fast when they weren’t okay. They laughed loudly when they were scared. The twins were always chatty, always jokesters, but when it became like this , too much, too quick, it meant something was wrong.

Percy’s chest tightened. Fred continued rambling about the shop, the war, the people Percy hadn’t seen, but his voice had a nervous edge to it, a tension Percy could feel even though Fred tried to hide it.

Percy blinked, still groggy from his nap, but something in him snapped into focus as he watched Fred pace around the room. His brother wasn’t okay. Not at all. “Fred,” Percy said, his voice soft but steady, cutting through Fred’s rapid-fire speech. Fred kept talking, as if he hadn’t heard him.

“Fred,” Percy said again, more firmly this time.

Fred froze mid-sentence, turning to face him, his wide grin faltering slightly.

“Are you okay?” Percy asked quietly, his brows furrowing with concern. The question hung in the air, and for a second, Percy thought Fred was going to brush it off, make a joke, turn the conversation back to something lighthearted. But then Fred’s face crumpled. The grin vanished. His shoulders sagged, and in a heartbeat, he crossed the room and collapsed onto the chair beside Percy’s bed.

Fred’s head fell into Percy’s lap, his arms wrapping around Percy’s waist in a way that was both familiar and awkward, just like when they were kids. Percy’s heart stuttered in shock. Fred hadn’t hugged him like this in years.

Then he heard it. A soft, broken sob that shook Fred’s entire body. Percy felt Fred’s grip tighten, his face pressed into his lap, and before Percy could even process it, Fred was crying, really crying.

“No,” Fred choked out, his voice muffled against Percy’s legs. “No, I’m not okay.” His voice broke on the last word, and Percy froze, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. Fred wasn’t just crying, he was falling apart.

“I’m so, so sorry, Percy,” Fred sobbed, the words tumbling out like they had been held in for far too long. “For everything. I’ve been a horrible brother. And…and you still saved me. You…you saved me when I didn’t deserve it.”

Percy’s heart clenched at Fred’s words, because of course, he would save him, of course, he deserved it. He could feel his brother’s tears soaking through his hospital blanket, his body trembling with the force of his grief. Percy’s hands hovered awkwardly above Fred’s back, unsure of what to do, what to say. This…this was different. Fred had never been like this with him. It was always jokes, always teasing. Never this raw, never this broken.

“I was awful to you,” Fred continued, his voice ragged. “I mocked you, pranked you all the time, even when I knew it really annoyed you. I didn’t stop. I thought you were a traitor... and you weren’t. You never were. I don’t even know why I thought that. You’ve always helped us, always, and you’d read to us when no one else would. I…” Fred’s voice cracked again, his hands gripping Percy’s legs tightly. “And we called you a git. We said awful things... horrible things. And still... you saved me. You risked your life to save me.”

Percy’s throat tightened, and a lump formed in his chest that made it hard to breathe. Fred was a mess, and Percy wasn’t sure how to handle it. Fred never said things like this. Not Fred.

Fred’s sobs grew softer, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. “I was so scared you would die,” Fred whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “That the last thing I would’ve said to you was that you were a ministry-loving prat. But you’re not. You never were. You were a good brother, Percy. A good brother who tried. And I…I was awful to you.”

Percy’s heart twisted painfully, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do. His father had been shocked when Percy told him how he felt, but this... this was Fred pouring out his soul without Percy even asking. Without Percy even needing to explain. Fred was apologizing, and it touched Percy deeply in a way that almost hurt.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Fred whispered again, his voice breaking. “Please don’t leave me. Please don’t ever leave me again. I can’t…I was so scared, Percy. Please.”

Percy blinked rapidly, trying to process the flood of emotions crashing into him. Fred’s words echoed in his mind, Why would you think that I was a traitor, was I really that bad? He felt the weight of Fred’s guilt, his sorrow, but it mixed with Percy’s own confusion, his own sadness, his hurt. Why had they ever thought so little of him? Had he been that awful? That unworthy of their love?

“Fred,” Percy said softly, his voice trembling slightly. “Why would you ever think I’d side with Death Eaters? Why would you, why would any of you, think I was a traitor?”

Fred’s face twisted with guilt, his eyes wide and full of shame. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly struggling to find the words. Percy could see the conflict in his brother’s face, the way his breath hitched as he tried to respond.

“I don’t understand,” Percy continued, his voice growing more steady, though there was a deep sadness behind it. “What did I do? Why did you all have such a low opinion of me? Did you really think I’d betray you?”

Fred’s face crumpled again, and for a moment, Percy thought he might start crying all over again. He shook his head quickly, as if trying to deny it, but Percy could see the truth in his eyes, Fred had believed it. They had all believed it, even for a moment.

“I…” Fred stammered, his voice cracking. “I don’t know, Percy. I... I didn’t think, not really. I was angry. We were all angry. You said those things to Dad, and you stayed with the Ministry, and we thought...”

Percy’s heart clenched as Fred struggled to continue. There was a bitter edge to Fred’s words, but Percy could sense the deep regret beneath it.

“I…” Fred’s voice faltered again, and he looked down, his hands still gripping Percy’s legs tightly. “I think I was jealous. Mum was always fussing over your grades, how clean you were, how you studied so much and didn’t cause trouble like we did. She’d go on about how good you were, how responsible. It just... got to me…to us, I think.”

Percy blinked, the weight of Fred’s words settling over him like a cold wave. Jealous? It didn’t make sense to him, he had always felt like the odd one out, like no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough to earn his siblings’ respect. Yet here was Fred, admitting that they had been envious of him.

“We were gits,” Fred said quietly, his voice thick with shame. “We were stupid and angry and jealous. You were always helping us, even when we didn’t deserve it. You always cared, Percy. You were there for us when we were younger. Hell, you were sneaking Mum’s potions to us behind her back when we got hurt. And I... we didn’t appreciate it.”

Fred’s voice cracked again, and he let out a shaky breath. “We thought you were a prat, with all the nagging, but it wasn’t until later that I realized... you did that because you cared, didn’t you?”

Percy didn’t know what to say. His throat felt tight, his chest aching with a mix of confusion and hurt. He had always believed that his family had just seen him as the boring one, the responsible one, but to hear that they had actually been jealous? That their anger had twisted into thinking he could ever betray them? It didn’t make sense.

Fred’s grip tightened on Percy’s legs as if he was afraid of what Percy might say next. His eyes were wide, filled with shame and fear. “I don’t know why we thought it, Percy,” Fred said, his voice trembling. “You weren’t a traitor. You would never have betrayed us, and I... I should have known that.”

Percy’s breath hitched, a lump forming in his throat. He blinked rapidly, trying to process everything Fred was saying. His mind was swirling, the old wounds from their childhood mixing with the shock of what Fred had just admitted. They had thought so little of him…and yet, here Fred was, apologizing, trying to make amends without Percy having to ask.

“I’m so sorry,” Fred whispered again, his voice barely audible now. “Please... I was wrong. We were wrong. You weren’t a traitor, Percy. You were a good brother. A better one than we ever deserved.”

Percy swallowed hard, his chest tightening painfully as Fred’s words sank in. He felt raw, exposed, but there was something else too…something that touched him deeply. Fred’s apology, his desperate need to make things right, made Percy feel seen in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Fred had hurt him, yes, they all had, but he was also acknowledging that hurt in a way that no one else had.

Fred lifted his head slightly, his eyes red and swollen, but there was a plea in his gaze, a desperate need for forgiveness that Percy could feel in the space between them.

Fred’s sobs softened, but his grip on Percy’s waist didn’t loosen. He clung to Percy like he was afraid he might slip away. “I’m so sorry,” Fred whispered once more. “Don’t do something so dangerous again. Even if it’s to save me.”

Percy closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Fred’s head against his legs, the way his younger brother was shaking with emotion. His own heart ached, but there was no question in his mind. “I can’t promise that,” Percy said quietly, his voice steady but filled with love. “I love you, Fred. I love all of you. I... I couldn’t stand to see you dead. I’d rather the wall crush me again than watch you die.”

Fred let out a fresh sob, his arms tightening around Percy as if trying to hold him together. Percy, feeling the flood of emotions rising again, reached down, his hand gently resting on Fred’s head. He stroked his brother’s hair, soft and comforting, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come on now, Fred,” Percy murmured, his voice gentle. “Don’t cry. That’s not like you.”

Fred’s sobs eased, though his shoulders still shook, and Percy continued to stroke his hair softly. “It’s okay,” Percy whispered, trying to soothe him. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

Fred calmed a little, though his grip on Percy remained tight. After what felt like an eternity, Fred slowly lifted his head, his eyes red and swollen, but he sat up just enough to pull Percy into a proper hug. It was firm, desperate, and completely unlike anything Fred had ever done before.

“Please don’t leave again,” Fred whispered fiercely, his arms crushing Percy in the embrace. “Please.”

Percy hugged him back, his heart aching with the intensity of Fred’s desperation. “I won’t,” he whispered. “I won’t.”

They stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other, holding on as if the world outside didn’t matter anymore. And in that moment, Percy realized just how much they all still had to heal. But for now, at least, they had each other.

Fred sat there beside Percy, his chest still aching from the emotional storm that had just passed. His eyes were swollen, his throat raw, but he felt... lighter. Not whole, but lighter. The weight of guilt wasn’t entirely gone, how could it be? But at least Percy had hugged him back, and Fred had finally told him the things he needed to say for so long. He’d made a promise to himself right then and there: Percy would never doubt how good of a brother he was ever again. Fred was going to make sure of it.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, Percy’s hand still resting gently on his arm. Fred leaned back in his chair, feeling a weird sense of peace settle over him. But something had been nagging at his mind since last night, something he couldn’t quite shake.

Fred shifted, glancing at Percy from the corner of his eye, his chest tightening with awkwardness. Merlin, this is going to be weird, he thought, but he had to ask. The question had been burning in his mind, and he knew it was now or never.

Clearing his throat, Fred awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Hey, Perce?”

Percy turned to look at him, his expression soft, though he was clearly still surprised by Fred’s sudden vulnerability. “Yeah?”

Fred hesitated for a moment, but the words spilled out anyway. “How did you... you know, how did you figure out you liked boys?”

Percy blinked, clearly taken aback. Fred could practically feel his brother’s surprise, and the way Percy stared at him made Fred’s stomach flip. Great. Brilliant. This is going to be so awkward.

“I mean...” Fred began, his voice speeding up in that nervous, rambling way it always did when he was trying to cover his discomfort. “Not that I’ve got a problem with it, you know. I’m totally cool with it, obviously. I mean, Oliver and you... I saw him kiss you last night, and that’s fine. Really, it is. But how do you know? Like, if you’ve liked girls before and then... suddenly you like a boy? How does that work?”

Fred’s words tumbled out so fast, he could barely keep track of them himself. He was rambling, his hands waving in the air as he tried to explain himself. His heart raced, his stomach twisted with nerves, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Percy, for his part, was just sitting there, staring at him with wide eyes, clearly trying to process the barrage of words Fred had just hurled at him. Then Percy blinked again, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Fred,” Percy said slowly, his voice gentle. “Do you... like someone?”

Fred froze, his stomach flipping again, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. Percy’s hand reached out, covering his own, grounding him slightly, but Fred’s thoughts were all over the place. Did he? Was that what this was?

“I...” Fred stammered, suddenly feeling more exposed than he had in years. He could feel his face heating up, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked away, staring at the floor, and then, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, he admitted, “I think I might.”

Percy’s eyes softened, and Fred could feel the curiosity radiating from him, but it wasn’t judgmental. It was just... Percy being Percy.

“I mean, I’ve liked girls before,” Fred blurted out, his words coming faster now, tumbling out of him like they were desperate to escape. “I liked Alicia from the team for a while, you know? We even hooked up. But now, I don’t know...things are weird. I think... I think I like Lee.”

Percy blinked again, and Fred felt his stomach twist with nerves. He had never said it out loud before. The words felt foreign, strange, but also... right.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m gay,” Fred rushed to explain, feeling a surge of panic. “At least, I don’t think I am. I’ve liked girls, you know? But every time Lee says something stupid or smiles at me, I get this weird feeling, like I’m warm all over. And I haven’t been able to shower in common showers with him since fourth year because...” Fred trailed off, his face burning with embarrassment. He could feel Percy’s gaze on him, and he suddenly wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

But then...Percy giggled.

Fred blinked, shocked by the sound, and his face burned even hotter. “Oi!” he said, crossing his arms defensively. “I’m pouring my heart out here, and you’re laughing?”

Percy shook his head quickly, the small giggle fading into a warm, affectionate smile. “No, no,” Percy said, raising a hand in reassurance. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just... I think it’s sweet.”

Fred stared at him, dumbfounded. “Sweet?”

Percy nodded, his smile softening. “Yeah,” he said, his voice gentle but amused. “It sounds like you might like Lee a little more than you think.”

Fred’s heart pounded, his nerves twisting even more tightly in his chest. “But...what does that mean?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m not... I mean, I’ve liked girls before. What does it mean if I like Lee now?”

Percy reached out again, his hand covering Fred’s in a comforting gesture. “It means,” Percy said softly, “that you like who you like. It doesn’t have to fit into a neat little box. Sometimes you like girls, sometimes you like boys. That’s okay.”

Fred blinked, trying to process Percy’s words. It was... confusing. Comforting, but confusing.

“Do you know if Lee likes men?” Percy asked gently, his curiosity piqued but his voice still kind.

Fred hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I think he’s gay,” he said quietly. “He’s never explicitly told me or George, but we all kind of... know, I guess? He just hasn’t said anything outright.”

Percy hummed softly, his hand giving Fred’s a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe you should talk to him about it,” Percy suggested. “You never know, Fred. Lee might like you too.”

Fred’s stomach flipped again, the thought of confronting Lee sending a wave of nervousness through him. “But what if he doesn't?” he asked, his voice small. “What if I ruin our friendship? He’s been my best mate for years. What if I mess it up?”

Percy’s expression softened even more, and Fred could see the compassion in his brother’s eyes. “I can’t tell you how Lee feels,” Percy said gently. “But if he’s been your best mate for years, he’ll understand. And if he does like you... well, that’s something you’ll never know unless you talk to him.”

Fred swallowed hard, his mind racing. Could he? Should he? The thought of telling Lee how he felt made him feel exposed in a way he hadn’t expected. But Percy’s words were steadying him, calming the storm inside him just enough to make him feel a little less lost.

“Yeah,” Fred murmured, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. “I guess... I’ll see.”

Percy smiled warmly at him, his hand squeezing Fred’s one last time before letting go. “No matter what happens, Fred,” Percy said softly, “just remember, you’re not alone in this.”

Fred nodded, still feeling the nerves swirling in his chest, but there was a strange comfort in Percy’s words. He was scared, no, terrified, of what would happen next. But at least, for the first time in a long time, he felt like someone understood him.

“Thanks, Perce,” Fred mumbled, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Percy smiled back, and for a moment, Fred felt the tension ease just a little. There was still so much to think about, so much to sort through. But for now, sitting here with Percy, things didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

Chapter Text

The room felt brighter today, but the light streaming through the window did little to untangle the knots of unease twisting in Percy’s chest. Even after some rest, the weight of everything still pressed heavily on him. He was grateful for the visit, but seeing more people than usual today was making him feel... off. He wasn’t sure how to navigate this, not after everything.

Mum had arrived first, bustling in with her usual energy, though Percy could see the tension behind her actions. She had barely said a word before she was at his side, fussing over him with trembling hands. Her fingers gently patted his head, her touch lingering on his hand, like she needed the physical reassurance that he was there—alive and breathing.

“Percy,” she murmured, her voice filled with both relief and something else, something more fragile. “You’re looking better, dear. Are they feeding you properly? You still look so thin.”

She said it with a smile, but Percy could hear the tremor beneath her words, the emotion she was struggling to keep in check. He could feel it in the way she held his hand a little too tightly, as though afraid he might slip away if she loosened her grip.

“I’m fine, Mum,” Percy reassured her softly, though his voice was rougher than usual, the weight of the day already pressing down on him. “The healers are looking after me.”

She hummed, but her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and Percy’s stomach twisted. She was the only one who had come after him when he left all those years ago—the only one who had tried to bring him back. It had infuriated him at the time. He had been angry that she thought everything could be forgiven only on their terms, that she could convince him to come back as though nothing had happened. But at least... at least she had come.

He shifted under her gentle touch, feeling both comforted and uncomfortable by it. There was something about the way she kept looking at him, like he might vanish before her eyes, that unsettled him. It was as though she was holding herself together by sheer will, pretending that small talk could ease the heavy silence hanging between them. She kept asking about his health, his recovery, all the while stroking his hair and squeezing his hand. Percy didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop. He loved her so much and he could see, she loved him too. She had her issues, sure, but she always cared for him. 

And then there was Bill.

Percy’s gaze flicked toward his eldest brother, who sat across the room beside Fleur. Bill had always been a figure Percy looked up to, a role model in the family. Yet, now that he was here, Percy couldn’t shake the bitterness that gnawed at him. He had anticipated feeling relief seeing Bill after everything that had happened, but instead, it was resentment that burned in his chest.

Bill, the golden child. Bill, the one who had never really had time for Percy, who had laughed at the same jokes, made the same jabs—jokes that had always landed a little too close to home for Percy. Lighthearted as they were, they stung. Percy had written to Bill, had sought some kind of connection with him growing up, but Bill never responded in the way Percy needed him to. He’d always been closer to Charlie, and Percy had... well, Percy had been left feeling like an afterthought.

The wedding was still a wound that hadn’t fully healed. Percy’s jaw tightened at the memory of learning about Bill and Fleur’s marriage from Kingsley. Not from his own family. They hadn’t wanted him there. He hadn’t received a single invitation, a single word. And now, here Bill was, sitting there like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t cut Percy out of one of the most important moments of his life.

The knot in Percy’s chest tightened further. Bill was trying, Percy could see that. He was making an effort, but it wasn’t enough to erase the bitterness. Not yet.

“Percy!” Fleur’s bright, melodic voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, and he blinked as she smiled at him warmly, her enthusiasm a welcome distraction. “I had no idea you spoke French!” Her eyes sparkled, clearly delighted.

Percy felt a slight flush of embarrassment, but he smiled weakly. “I wouldn’t say I’m fluent,” he admitted. “I haven’t practiced much in recent years.”

“Nonsense!” Fleur exclaimed, her grin widening. “You are already so good. I will make sure you become fluent in no time. You have a natural ear for it.”

Her excitement was contagious, and for a brief moment, Percy felt a small weight lift off his shoulders. Fleur was so kind to him and she was not around when the family tensions had run high. She had never looked at him with the same judgment or frustration as the others had. He even believes that Fleur understood what it meant to not fully belong, to struggle within the family dynamic.

But Percy’s eyes flicked to Bill again, and the warmth in his chest faded slightly. Bill was watching their exchange, a faint smile on his face. Percy forced himself to look away, feeling the bitterness churn inside him. He appreciated Fleur’s kindness, her enthusiasm, but Bill’s presence weighed heavily on him. It was impossible to ignore the hurt when Bill was sitting just feet away, pretending everything was fine.

Mum’s hand moved to his hair again, her touch soft but trembling, and Percy’s chest ached. She was still there, still hovering close, and it was clear how much she was holding back. Her eyes darted to him again, her lips twitching as though she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. She kept talking about Ron and Ginny and how they were planning to visit later, but her voice was fragile, as if she were afraid one wrong word might shatter the tenuous peace between them.

Percy could hardly focus. The weight of his mother’s worry, the lingering sting of Bill’s absence, the guilt, the anger—it all swirled inside him. He forced himself to smile when Fleur spoke again, but his heart wasn’t in it. Every word felt like an effort, and all the while, Bill’s silence seemed louder than anything else.

Bill shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “You look kinda drowsy,” he said, his voice careful, as though testing the waters. “Are you feeling alright?”

Percy’s heart skipped, the bitterness surging up again. He met Bill’s eyes briefly before forcing himself to look away, his voice tight. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

There was an awkward pause. Percy could feel Bill watching him, feel the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them. Bill was trying. He could see that. But the effort felt... hollow. Too little, too late. Percy didn’t want to lash out, didn’t want to give in to the bitterness gnawing at him, so instead, he simply fell silent, focusing on the conversation with Fleur.

But inside, the turmoil raged. Percy felt like he was balancing on the edge of something sharp, teetering between his desire to move forward and the unresolved hurt that lingered between him and his family—especially Bill. They had all laughed at him, sure, but Bill’s absence, Bill’s distance, had cut deep. The wedding, the sense that he wasn’t wanted... Percy wasn’t sure how to push past it.

Mum’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft and trembling. “I’m so glad you are here with us, Percy,” she whispered, her hand tightening around his. “I was so afraid.”

The knot in Percy’s chest loosened, just slightly. He nodded, offering her a small, weary smile. But the bitterness still lingered, a quiet storm he wasn’t ready to face just yet.

Ginny followed Ron, Charlie, and the twins through the hospital corridors, the steady clatter of their footsteps muffled by the sterile quiet of the ward. The healer at the entrance had already given them a look of concern as soon as she saw the lot of them—seven visitors all in one go—and Ginny had expected a polite refusal.

“You lot are pushing it,” the healer had said with a raised brow, crossing her arms. “His friends are already inside with him. It’s supposed to be just a few visitors at a time, you know.”

Ron, standing next to her, had flashed his most winning grin, the one Ginny recognized from years of trying to charm his way out of trouble. “We won’t stay too long. Promise.”

The healer narrowed her eyes but sighed. “Alright, in you go. But don’t crowd the poor lad too much. And I don’t want all seven of you there until nightfall, you hear? He will be out soon enough.”

Ginny nodded quickly, grateful they hadn’t been turned away. As they made their way to Percy’s room, she could hear voices, light and cheerful, filtering through the open door. The atmosphere was so different from the tense, tear-filled visit just days before, when she had been terrified Percy wouldn’t wake up at all. That day, he had looked so pale, so weak, it had taken everything in her not to break down at the sight of him.

But now, as she stepped into the room behind Ron and George, the first thing Ginny noticed was how different everything felt. The room was warm, filled with the soft murmur of laughter and conversation. Percy was sitting up in bed, his face lit with a smile that she hadn’t seen in what felt like years.

He was talking with Penelope and Oliver, chuckling at something Penelope had just said, his glasses catching the light as he laughed. He looked... lighter. There was something in his expression that Ginny barely recognized—an ease, a warmth, that had been missing from him for so long.

“So there we were, stuck with this painting of a bard,” Penelope was saying, her hands gesturing animatedly, “and every time someone walked past, the painting would change! The poor man’s robes would disappear bit by bit. You should have seen the looks on their faces.”

Oliver snorted, his arm draped casually across the back of Percy’s chair, his grin wide. “During dinner?”

“Completely starkers!” Penelope added, grinning as she laughed. “The grandkids had charmed the thing for a laugh, and no one could figure out how to reverse it. It was... creative, I’ll give them that.”

Even Percy was laughing, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses, the sound soft but genuine. “That’s brilliant,” he said, his voice lighter than Ginny remembered hearing in years. “Mortifying, but brilliant.”

Ginny blinked, taken aback by the sight. Percy was... laughing. He was laughing so hard that little lines formed beside his eyes, his whole face lit up in a way that made him look boyish, younger. He seemed so relaxed, so happy, surrounded by Penelope and Oliver, his whole posture at ease.

“When the family found out what their dinner guests had seen,” Penelope continued, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, “they were absolutely beside themselves. We were trying to act professional, of course, but I almost lost it when the client’s daughter said she couldn’t look her colleagues in the eye again!”

Everyone in the room laughed, and Ginny couldn’t help but join in. The story was ridiculous, and it was so easy to get caught up in the mood. But even as she laughed, a strange, unsettled feeling curled in her stomach. Percy—this Percy, who was light and smiling and completely at ease—was someone she hadn’t seen in years. Not with them. Not with her or Ron or the twins.

She watched as Percy leaned back slightly, smiling at Oliver as the conversation continued. There was something so effortless about the way Percy interacted with them—something so natural and open. He wasn’t the stiff, proper Percy she had grown up with, the one they had all teased for being too uptight, too serious. This Percy was different. He was warm, comfortable in a way she hadn’t seen in so long.

“It’s a good thing they didn’t call you in to remove the charms during dinner,” Oliver added with a grin, squeezing Percy’s shoulder lightly. “Could’ve ended up worse if you couldn’t stop laughing.”

Penelope rolled her eyes playfully. “Honestly, the sticking charm was almost worse than the one on the painting to remove!” She shook her head, still laughing. “Some of the best magic I’ve seen in ages, but Merlin, it wasn’t the right crowd for that.”

Percy chuckled again, and Ginny saw something soft and almost shy in his expression when he looked at Penelope and Oliver. There was a sense of belonging there, a connection that made Ginny feel like an outsider.

“Anyway,” Oliver said, smirking, “I’m pretty sure Nathan and Audrey are up to something. They didn’t come today because I think they’re planning some surprise for you tomorrow.” He glanced at Percy, teasing him gently. “I know you don’t like surprises, but I thought I’d give you a heads-up.”

Penelope snorted. “At least try to act surprised, Percy. They’ve been plotting for days to cheer you up. They’d be crushed if you weren’t pleasantly surprised.”

Percy’s face softened, his eyes wide with something Ginny couldn’t quite place—gratitude, maybe. It was so rare to see him this way, so open. He was touched by something so simple.

“Alright,” Percy said, his smile more tender now. “I’ll do my best. I don’t want to let them down.”

Ginny’s chest tightened. She felt a pang of guilt, sharp and bitter, twisting in her stomach. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Percy so... happy. So light. And it hit her then—this Percy, the one laughing with Oliver and Penelope, wasn’t boring. He wasn’t the stiff, distant brother she had once thought him to be.

No, this Percy was fun. Charming, even. He made jokes, he smiled with his eyes, he belonged with them in a way that felt so natural. And that realization made Ginny feel like absolute shit. Because they had never seen this side of him. They had never taken the time to. They had written him off as boring, as uptight, and now here he was, laughing and joking in a way she had never imagined.

She tried to join in the conversation, tried to talk about Quidditch with Oliver or the shop with the twins, but the distance was still there, heavy and palpable. It was like they didn’t quite fit into Percy’s world anymore. He looked so close to Penelope and Oliver, like they understood him in ways that she and the others couldn’t.

And that... that hurt.

Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to smile as the laughter around her continued. But inside, she felt the sting of all the time they had lost, all the years they had dismissed Percy without really seeing him for who he was. And now, sitting here, it felt like she was just on the outside, looking in.

Charlie stood near the doorway, watching the conversation unfold. The room was still filled with the warmth and laughter Percy had been sharing with Oliver and Penelope, but now the conversation had shifted into something more practical, something that hit too close to home. And it wasn’t sitting right with him.

Penelope was speaking, her voice light but serious as she explained, “My sister’s been asking about you non-stop, Percy. She’s just over the moon that you’re okay. She was so worried.”

Percy smiled at that, and Charlie could see the softness in his eyes. Percy had always had a way with kids, and Penelope’s little sister adored him—everyone in her family did, apparently.

“She’s been asking when she can visit, but... well, you know how it is. Muggles aren’t allowed to visit unless they’re direct family,” Penelope added with a small frown. “I told her it might be a while before she can see you.”

Percy’s smile faltered slightly, and Charlie felt a strange pang in his chest. Penelope continued. “Oh, by the way, my parents want you to stay with us for a while, or at least during the mornings. They think it’d be better for you to be at their house until you’re fully recovered. They’ve got everything set up, and Mum’s been fussing about it nonstop.”

Charlie’s chest tightened. They were talking like... like Percy didn’t have another option. Like the only place for him to recover was with Penelope’s family.

“The healer said the headaches might last for a while,” Penelope went on, her tone a little more serious. “It’s best if you’re not alone too much, just in case. It’s better to have someone around.”

Oliver nodded, glancing at Percy before leaning over to kiss the top of his head. “I’d offer to ask my parents,” he said with a grin, “but with my granddad around, I doubt it’s the best place for someone with headaches.”

Percy laughed softly, but Charlie’s heart twisted. Why are we talking like this? Like Percy doesn’t have a family to stay with? The conversation was starting to feel wrong, out of place. Charlie exchanged a glance with Ron, who was standing a little awkwardly by the foot of the bed, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Ron cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Uh... well... you could stay at the Burrow, you know,” he said, his voice wavering slightly.

“Mum’s always there, and... well, there’s always someone around. You wouldn’t be alone. You could... you could come home.” Ginny added. 

Charlie saw it then—the way their faces twisted with awkwardness, but also with hurt. They feel it too, Charlie realized, the same uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach. The words sounded so forced, so wrong, like they were grasping at some sense of connection that had already slipped away. They, trying to offer Percy something, anything, but the distance between them was palpable.

Charlie stepped in to back Ron and Ginny up, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “Yeah, Perce,” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’ve got time off, and Mum’s always in the kitchen or around the house. The Burrow’s never empty, you know. It’d be easy for Oliver to come visit you every day too.”

He said it all so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world for Percy to come back home, to the place where they had all grown up. But something about the way Percy, Oliver, and Penelope exchanged glances told Charlie that the offer wasn’t sitting quite right.

Penelope looked... annoyed. Just a flicker of it, but it was there. And Percy...Percy looked overwhelmed, his eyes flicking from Ron to Charlie, then back to Oliver. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Fred and George jumped in.

“Or!” Fred piped up, grinning from ear to ear. “You could stay above the shop! You’d have a whole flat to yourself—peace and quiet, no explosions, promise.”

George nodded eagerly. “We can soundproof the place, Perce. Not a single boom from the shop downstairs. You wouldn’t even know we were there.”

Fred’s grin widened, his enthusiasm bubbling over. “And we’d always be nearby if you need anything. We’re downstairs all day, so you’d have your space in the mornings and us if you need anything. Easy as that.”

Percy looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes wide and his mouth half-open as he tried to process all the offers being thrown at him. He was clearly overwhelmed, and Charlie could see it in the way Percy’s fingers gripped the edge of the blanket, how his eyes darted around the room.

Charlie’s heart sank further. We’re smothering him, he realized. We’re all desperate for him to come back, and it’s too much.

After a long, awkward pause, Percy finally cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. “I... I think I’ll stay at my flat, actually.” He glanced at Penelope, then back at Oliver. “It’s easier. All my things are there, and... well, you can come visit me if needed. Or I will. I’ll be fine. Really.”

Charlie felt his heart drop. Percy wasn’t coming back to the Burrow. He wasn’t even considering it.

Fred and George, though, didn’t seem to notice Percy’s discomfort. Or if they did, they hid it well. They were practically bouncing. “That’s fine!” Fred said brightly. “You know you can pop over to the shop whenever you want. We’ll keep the place tidy for you.”

“Yeah, no pressure,” George added with a grin. “You’ve got your space, and you can always count on us. Anytime.”

But Charlie couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his gut. He didn’t like this. Percy wasn’t rejecting the Burrow outright, but he wasn’t choosing it, either. He wasn’t choosing them. And why would he? Why would Percy want to stay with them when he had spent years feeling pushed aside, overlooked?

Charlie swallowed, forcing himself to smile as the conversation continued, but the bitterness and guilt gnawed at him. We drove him away, he thought miserably. We made him feel like he didn’t belong with us. And now... now he’s closer to them—Oliver, Penelope—than he is to his own family.

He hated that. He hated the thought that Percy might not trust them, that he might feel more comfortable with Oliver’s family, with Penelope’s parents. We did this. They had pushed Percy away for years, making him feel like he didn’t belong. And now, they were paying for it.

Ron and Ginny were still standing awkwardly by the bed, talking quietly, and Charlie could feel their discomfort as clearly as his own. They felt it too. The same guilt, the same helplessness. They had failed Percy. And now they were scrambling, desperately trying to pull him back into the family, but it felt too late.

Charlie crossed his arms, leaning back slightly against the wall. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like how distant Percy felt, how disconnected he seemed from them. Why didn’t he want to stay with them?

Why would he? Charlie’s mind raced, the guilt and worry swirling inside him. Why would he want to stay with us?

And, worse, why did we make him feel this way?

George and Fred kept talking with Oliver, Percy and Penny, but Charlie could barely focus. He felt the weight of everything pressing down on him, the realization that they had lost something vital, something that wouldn’t be easily mended. And it stung. It stung to realize that Percy might not trust them enough to come home.

Charlie felt a heaviness in his chest, a gnawing ache of guilt and fear. Percy had a place with them, but he wasn’t choosing it. He wasn’t choosing them.

As the conversation flowed around him, Charlie stood in the background, feeling the guilt and hurt twisting deeper inside. Percy wasn’t theirs to lose again.

Chapter Text

Percy stared down at the clothes Oliver and Penelope had brought him from his apartment, his hands gripping the familiar fabric a little too tightly. He was grateful, so grateful , that they were here and had thought to bring him something comfortable. But the reality of the situation pressed down on him like a weight he couldn’t quite shrug off. He wasn’t okay. Not really. And the chaotic whirlwind his family had created in the hospital wasn’t helping.

His head pounded, a dull throb that hadn’t quite gone away since he’d woken up a few days ago. The healer had assured him that the headaches were normal, that they might linger for a while, but right now, with his family buzzing around him like anxious bees, it was getting harder to focus, harder to breathe.

Arthur, Bill, Ron, and Fred were all clustered around the healer, bombarding her with a thousand questions, questions Percy had already asked, answers he already knew. But it seemed like none of them trusted him to handle this, like they needed to double-check everything, just in case.

“When should he take the potions again?” Arthur asked for what felt like the third time.

“And what about the headaches?” Bill added, his brow furrowed with concern. “Is there anything else we can do to help with those?”

Fred leaned in, nodding eagerly. “Yeah, can we, like, give him something to eat with it? Or does he need to lie down after?”

Percy rubbed at his temple, feeling the headache begin to tighten like a vice around his skull. He had already asked the healer all these questions, had already been given instructions on how to manage his recovery. But his family was acting like he hadn’t heard a word of it.

The healer, to her credit, remained calm and patient, answering each question with the same quiet efficiency she had shown Percy earlier. But every answer felt like another layer of pressure building up inside him, another reminder that they didn’t trust him to handle his own recovery.

He glanced to the side, where Oliver and Penelope stood by his bed, their presence the only thing keeping him grounded. Penelope was watching the scene unfold with a look of quiet annoyance, her lips pressed into a thin line, while Oliver’s hand rested gently on Percy’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

“You okay?” Oliver murmured softly, his voice full of concern.

Percy swallowed, forcing himself to nod. “Yeah,” he whispered, though the pounding in his head told a different story.

“Alright, then,” the healer said finally, turning to Percy with a smile. “You’re good to go, Mr. Weasley. Just make sure to take it easy for a few days, and don’t push yourself too hard.”

Percy gave a small, tight smile in return. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

His family was still talking, still asking questions as if they hadn’t heard a single thing the healer had just said to Percy himself. And with every passing second, Percy felt more and more like he was drowning. The constant fussing, the hovering concern, it was too much. It made his skin crawl, made his headache worsen with every second they stayed.

Oliver handed him his coat, and Percy sighed in relief as he slipped it on, eager to get out of the hospital, to get away from the constant noise. “Let’s go,” he muttered, mostly to himself, but Penelope and Oliver heard him and nodded in quiet understanding.

As they left the hospital, the others fell into step behind them, a buzzing presence that Percy could feel even without turning around. They were heading to the Burrow for lunch, and Percy’s stomach twisted at the thought. He knew they meant well, but the idea of spending more time in a house full of people right now made his headache throb even harder.

By the time they arrived at the Burrow, Percy’s nerves were frayed. His family hadn’t stopped talking since they left the hospital, fussing over every little thing, and by the time they sat down for lunch, Percy could barely keep his head straight.

The lunch was a quiet sort of chaos, with the table full of voices and clinking cutlery. Percy sat there, feeling more and more like a spectator as his family fussed around him. The conversation was starting to blur, and the ache behind his eyes was growing sharper.

Mum, standing at the head of the table, was talking animatedly. “I’ve made up your bed, Percy, dear,” she said brightly, her smile full of the usual warmth. “We can go to your flat after lunch and pick up your things. It’ll be easier for you to stay here, don’t you think? You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Percy stiffened. The pressure, the expectations, the constant assumption that he needed to be at the Burrow, it all felt suffocating. He could feel his heart beating faster, his hands gripping the edge of the table.

“I’m not going to stay here, Mum,” Percy said, his voice soft but firm. The words hung in the air, and the entire room seemed to freeze.

Everyone stopped. The chatter died down instantly, replaced by a heavy silence. Ginny, Ron, Charlie, and the twins exchanged awkward glances, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Fred’s grin faltered, and George looked down at his plate.

Arthur, Bill, and Molly all stared at Percy, taken aback. His father’s brow furrowed, and Molly’s smile faltered as confusion and concern flickered across her face.

“Of, course you will dear,” Molly said, her voice faltering slightly. “You’d be better off here. You shouldn’t be by yourself, not with everything you’ve been through.”

Percy swallowed, his headache worsening. “I’ll be fine at my apartment,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Oliver and Penny can check on me. It’s just... easier.”

Molly blinked, clearly not expecting this. Arthur looked at him, unsure of what to say, while Bill’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. The silence was suffocating.

Next to him, Oliver’s hand found Percy’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze under the table. He could feel Oliver’s calm presence beside him, a lifeline in the overwhelming atmosphere. Oliver’s thumb rubbed soothing circles into Percy’s hand, grounding him.

Penelope, sitting across from him, looked visibly annoyed, her eyes flicking toward Molly as if barely holding back her frustration.

“I’m going to stay at my flat,” Percy repeated, his voice stronger this time, though the weight of their gazes made his chest tighten.

The discomfort was palpable. Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat, exchanging a glance with Ron, whose face had gone tight with awkwardness. Charlie sat there, his jaw clenched, his eyes flicking between Percy and their parents, looking as though he didn’t know what to say.

Arthur, Bill, and Molly remained silent, still processing what Percy had just said, their expressions a mix of confusion and shock.

Arthur sat quietly at the head of the table, his hands folded in his lap, his heart sinking with every passing minute. Percy’s words, soft but resolute, hung in the air, thickening the tension that already filled the room.

“I’m going to stay at my flat.”

The atmosphere was heavy, and Arthur could see the discomfort on his other children’s faces, how they shifted in their seats, exchanging awkward glances. Ginny looked down at her plate, her cheeks flushed, while Ron stared at his hands. The twins, for once, were quiet, their usual grins replaced with uneasy frowns. Even Charlie, who rarely seemed unsettled, sat stiffly, his jaw clenched.

But what hurt the most was the look on Percy’s face, overwhelmed, his brow furrowed with pain and frustration. Arthur’s heart twisted painfully as he watched his son, the familiar ache of knowing that, despite their best intentions, they were making him feel worse.

Molly’s voice cut through the silence, strained but gentle. “But, Percy, dear, it would be better for you to stay at the Burrow,” she said, her eyes pleading with him. “Please, think about it. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Arthur could see the desperation in her gaze, she was trying to make sure he was safe and cared for. But it wasn’t what Percy needed, not now . Percy’s shoulders were tense, his jaw set, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if bracing himself for another wave of concern he didn’t ask for.

This isn’t helping, Arthur thought miserably, his heart sinking further. We’re only making it worse for him.

Before Percy could respond, Bill spoke up, his voice steady but firm, his own concern clear. “Of course, you’re not staying alone,” Bill said, his eyes fixed on Percy. “You can stay here, or if you don’t want that, you could come stay with me and Fleur. We’d be happy to have you.”

Arthur noticed Fleur beside Bill, her expression shifting as she tried to stop him from continuing. She could sense it too, the rising tension in Percy’s eyes, the way his brother’s words only seemed to aggravate the situation.

Penelope, sitting beside Oliver, sighed loudly, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Percy won’t be alone,” she said, her voice sharp with frustration. “He’s staying with Oliver, and if needed, I’ll be there too. My family can help as well. Nathan and Audrey would also be around. Percy will have plenty of support.”

The irritation in Penelope’s voice was unmistakable, and Arthur could see that her words stung. Bill’s face faltered for a moment, but he pressed on, clearly determined to make his point.

“It’s not about that,” Bill began, but before he could finish, Percy snapped.

“Why the hell do you care, William?” Percy’s voice cracked through the room like a whip, sharp and angry. “I don’t remember you giving a shit about me before, so where I’m going to stay is none of your fucking business.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The room froze, every single person staring at Percy in shock. Percy had never spoken to Bill like that before. No one ever had.

Bill’s expression shifted from shock to something else, something Arthur hadn’t seen in his oldest son in years. Hurt. Real, raw hurt. Bill sat back, his mouth half-open, but no words came out. The air felt thick, suffocating.

Arthur’s heart clenched, the pain in his chest now unbearable. He couldn’t stand to see Percy like this, overwhelmed, in pain, lashing out. And he couldn’t bear the hurt in Bill’s eyes either. He had to stop this before it got worse.

“Enough,” Arthur said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. “That’s enough, all of you.”

Everyone turned to look at him, but Arthur’s focus was on Percy. His son looked on the verge of breaking, his head in his hands, his eyes filled with a mix of anger, frustration, and something deeper. Exhaustion.

“If Percy wants to stay at his apartment, then that’s where he’s going to stay,” Arthur said, his voice steady but kind. “We’re all worried about him, but shouting and fussing isn’t going to help. He’s already in pain.”

Molly, who had been sitting quietly, her hands nervously clasped together, opened her mouth to speak, but Arthur reached out, gently placing a hand on hers. “Molly,” he said softly.

She looked at him, her eyes full of tears, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she nodded silently, her hand gripping his tightly, her knuckles white.

The rest of the meal continued in awkward, strained silence. No one spoke. The tension between Percy and Bill was thick, and Arthur could see the guilt weighing heavily on Bill’s face. He had never seen Bill like this, so unsure, so raw with emotion. Bill, always the confident one, always in control, now looked hurt, worried, and guilty.

Arthur wanted to say something to Bill, to reassure him, that this was more complicated than any one conversation. But the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t know how to fix this… not yet .

Percy’s discomfort only grew as the meal went on, and by the time they finished, it was clear he needed to leave. Oliver and Penelope stood up, gathering Percy’s things, while the others hovered, uncertain of what to do or say. One by one, Ginny, Ron, Fred, George, and even Charlie took turns hugging Percy, fussing over him as they always did, even though it was clear Percy wanted nothing more than to leave.

Arthur noticed Bill watching from the corner, but he didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He didn’t go to Percy. Arthur’s heart ached at the sight of Bill standing there, guilt and frustration etched across his face, but Arthur knew there was nothing he could do at the moment. That would have to wait.

As Oliver and Penelope finished gathering everything, Arthur saw his moment. He quietly approached Percy, pulling him into a tight embrace. Percy stiffened at first, but then relaxed into his father’s arms, his head resting against Arthur’s shoulder like he had when he was a child.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispered, his voice low and gentle. “They’re just worried, that’s all. But I see how it made you feel. I’m sorry, Percy.”

Percy didn’t say anything, but Arthur could feel him trembling slightly in his arms.

Arthur kissed the top of Percy’s head softly, brushing his hand over his son’s hair. “Go home. Rest. Take care of yourself. If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know. I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

He pulled back slightly, looking at Percy with a tender smile. “You’re always welcome at the Burrow, please know that. But if you’re more comfortable at your flat, then that’s where you should be.”

Percy nodded slowly, his eyes glassy with emotion. Arthur kissed his head again, his heart full of both sadness and love.

“Be careful,” Arthur whispered, giving his son one last squeeze before letting him go.

With a final nod, Percy, Oliver, and Penelope left the Burrow, the door closing softly behind them.

The house felt emptier in their absence, but the weight of everything lingered. Arthur sat back down at the table, looking around at his family, all of them feeling the same sadness and confusion that he did. But his eyes lingered on Bill, who still hadn’t moved from his spot. The weight of Percy’s words had clearly hit him hard.

Arthur sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. He would have to talk to Bill later, to make sure his son understood, but for now, all he wanted was for Percy to feel better.

Chapter Text

Bill’s knuckles tightened around the edge of the kitchen counter as the door to the Burrow closed behind him and Fleur. The moment they stepped out into the cool evening air, the tension he’d been holding onto all afternoon threatened to snap. His chest felt tight, his heart pounding with a mix of guilt and anger, anger at himself, mostly, for letting things with Percy get this far.

Percy’s words were still ringing in his ears. Why the hell do you care, William? I don’t remember you giving a shit about me.

Bill squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sting of those words, but they wouldn’t go away. The anger Percy had shown wasn’t just a reaction to the moment. It was years of hurt, years of distance that Bill couldn’t deny anymore.

They reached their house, and Bill felt the weight of it all pressing down on him harder with every step. Fleur was quiet beside him, but he knew she was watching him closely, sensing the storm brewing inside him. By the time they got inside and shut the door, Bill’s hands were trembling with frustration, guilt, and the desperate need to fix something he wasn’t sure he even knew how to fix.

He dropped into a chair at the kitchen table, his elbows resting heavily on the surface as he buried his face in his hands. The frustration in his chest burned hot, but so did the guilt. How can Percy think I don’t care? Bill thought miserably. How can he believe that he’s not important to me?

Fleur sat down next to him, her voice soft as she asked, “Bill... are you alright?” Her accent was thicker in moments like these, when she was truly worried.

He let out a breath, dragging his hands down his face, feeling the prickle of tears at the edges of his eyes. “No,” he muttered, his voice raw. “No, Fleur. I’m not alright. I don’t... I don’t know what to do.”

Fleur’s hand rested gently on his arm, her fingers warm and soothing against his skin, but Bill’s heart was still racing, a knot of guilt and frustration tightening in his chest. He didn’t know where to start, didn’t know how to begin to unravel the mess he and Percy were in.

“I... I never thought Percy would think I don’t care,” Bill said, his voice trembling with both anger and sadness. “He’s my younger brother. Of course I care. Of course I love him. But... he doesn’t believe me. He thinks I don’t give a damn.”

His voice cracked at the end, and Bill squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from falling. He was on the verge of breaking, teetering between anger and despair, and he didn’t know which way to fall.

“We made him feel forgotten,” Bill whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “ I made him feel forgotten.”

Fleur’s thumb traced gentle circles on his arm, her touch calming, but Bill couldn’t shake the tightness in his chest, the overwhelming sense of failure. “He’s right, Fleur,” Bill continued, his voice shaking. “I wasn’t there for him. There were times I didn’t answer his letters. I thought his interests were boring. I didn’t sit with him, didn’t talk to him like I did with Charlie or the twins.”

The words spilled out of him, each one feeling heavier than the last. Bill’s mind raced, replaying all the moments he had missed—moments where Percy had tried, where Percy had reached out, and Bill had been too distracted, too wrapped up in his own life to notice.

“Of course he’s angry with me,” Bill muttered bitterly. “I never gave him a reason not to be.”

Bill’s voice caught, the shame welling up in his chest as he admitted what had been gnawing at him all day. “Dad told me...”

Bill’s throat tightened, the words sticking in his chest like knives. He forced himself to continue. “Dad told me that Percy came to the wedding.”

Fleur’s eyes widened in shock. “Our wedding? He was there?”

Bill nodded, his chest tightening with guilt. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “And I didn’t even invite him. I didn’t send him an invitation. I didn’t even ask him what the hell happened with Dad after their fight. I just let it go. But he came anyway. He came to the wedding, and I didn’t even know. I never reached out to him, never talked to him, and now...”

Bill’s voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands again, the weight of it all too much to bear. “I don’t know what to do, Fleur. I don’t know how to fix this. He thinks I don’t care. He thinks I never cared. And I can’t stand it.”

Fleur shifted closer, wrapping her arms around him, her soft presence grounding him as he tried to hold back the tears. “Bill,” she whispered, her voice gentle but firm, “it’s not too late.”

Bill let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping the edge of the table as he tried to steady himself. “It feels too late,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was a shitty brother to him. I ignored him. I didn’t even try to understand him. And now he hates me.”

Fleur pulled back slightly, cupping his face in her hands, her blue eyes filled with love and determination. “Percy doesn’t hate you,” she said softly. “He’s angry, yes. But he doesn’t hate you. He’s hurt, because he loves you. But that doesn’t mean it’s too late to fix things.”

Bill’s throat tightened, the tears he had been holding back finally spilling over. “I don’t know how to fix it,” he choked out. “I don’t know where to start.”

Fleur smiled gently, brushing away the tears on his cheeks. “You start by talking to him,” she said softly. “You show him that you care. You tell him what you just told me. That you made mistakes, that you weren’t there for him, but that you want to be there now. It’s not too late, Bill. He’s your brother. He loves you, and you love him. You’ll figure it out.”

Bill let out a shaky breath, his heart aching with a mix of guilt and relief. Fleur’s words were like a balm to his soul, soothing the jagged edges of his frustration. He leaned into her embrace, pressing his forehead against hers, and closed his eyes as she kissed the tip of his nose, like she always did when she wanted to make him smile.

A small, tired smile tugged at Bill’s lips, but the tears still fell, the weight of everything too much to hold inside. “I love him, Fleur,” Bill whispered, his voice cracking. “I do. I just... I just didn’t show it enough. I didn’t show him that I cared. But of course I love him.”

Fleur pressed another gentle kiss to his nose, her arms wrapped tightly around him. “You’ll show him now,” she whispered.

Bill nodded, though his heart still ached with the weight of everything. But Fleur’s arms around him, her soft kisses on his cheeks, gave him the strength to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could fix this. That he could make Percy see how much he cared.

He had to. He couldn’t let Percy keep believing that he didn’t matter, that Bill didn’t care.

He wasn’t the best brother to Percy, but he was going to try to make up for it. He had to.

Charlie stood in front of Percy’s apartment door, his hand hovering over the handle, heart pounding in his chest. He had come early, hoping, praying , that Percy would be alone. He needed to talk to him, to apologize, to try to make things right. The weight of their broken relationship had been sitting heavy on Charlie’s chest since the day before, and he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling of guilt that came with it.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked gently. The wait felt like an eternity, and for a moment, Charlie was sure Percy wouldn’t answer. But then the door creaked open, and there was Percy, standing tall in the doorway, his expression neutral but a little surprised to see Charlie.

"Charlie?" Percy asked, blinking at him. His voice was soft, but there was an edge of uncertainty in it.

"Yeah," Charlie muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I... I was hoping you’d be alone."

Percy hesitated, but then nodded and stepped aside, letting Charlie in. The apartment was small but cozy, exactly how Charlie imagined it would be. It was neat, clean, with comfortable places to sit and read or write. Books lined the shelves, and there was even a Muggle television in the corner, a surprise to Charlie.

How does that thing even work here? Charlie thought, raising an eyebrow. Muggle devices and magic didn’t usually get along, and having grown up with Arthur Weasley as a father, Charlie knew that better than most.

Percy gestured toward the kitchen. “Tea?”

“Sure,” Charlie said, sitting down at the small dining table. He watched as Percy moved about the kitchen, taller now, about as tall as Bill, maybe even taller. It was strange. Percy had grown up, and Charlie had missed it. He and Ron were the tallest of the brothers, and Charlie realized, with a pang, that he hadn’t been there to see it happen.

When Percy returned with two mugs, they sat across from each other in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Charlie could barely touch his tea, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say but didn’t know how to.

The silence became unbearable. Charlie couldn’t stand it anymore. He put down his mug and, without thinking, leaned forward, pulling Percy into a hug. It was soft, tentative, the kind of hug you offer when you’re not sure if it will be accepted. For a moment, Percy stiffened, and Charlie’s heart sank. But then, slowly, Percy relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry, Perce.”

He could feel Percy’s breath catch, feel the storm of emotions beneath the surface. They stayed like that for a few moments, the hug tight and desperate, both of them holding on like they were afraid to let go. Percy didn’t say anything, but Charlie could feel the weight of his brother’s hurt and confusion in the way he clung to him.

After what felt like an eternity, Charlie pulled back, though he kept a hand on Percy’s shoulder, searching his face for any sign of forgiveness. But Percy’s eyes were guarded, a mix of sadness, anger, and something deeper—something Charlie had never seen in him before.

“I came to say sorry,” Charlie continued, his voice thick. “I haven’t been a good brother. I know that. But I care about you. I love you, Percy. I’ve always loved you. I just...”

Percy looked at him, his expression tight with something Charlie couldn’t quite place, anger, sadness, maybe both. His eyes were hard, but there was something vulnerable beneath it all.

“Why did you think I was a traitor?” Percy asked suddenly, his voice sharp. “You know I left because Dad insinuated that I’d spy for Fudge, right? That’s why I left. If I wasn’t with you all, I couldn’t spy on you. I thought that was pretty clear.”

Charlie’s stomach churned with guilt. He hadn’t expected Percy to cut to the heart of it so quickly, hadn’t expected to be confronted with the rawness of his pain so openly. How did we let him feel this way for so long?

“I didn’t think of it like that,” Charlie admitted, his voice small, full of regret. “I didn’t know what was happening. I... I wasn’t home much. And when I was, you were always working. We barely saw each other.”

Percy’s face hardened, his voice dripping with anger. “So you didn’t think I was a traitor because you didn’t think of me at all?” His words were laced with bitterness, each one landing like a punch to Charlie’s gut. “Great. That’s good to know.”

Charlie flinched. He couldn’t argue with Percy’s words. He hadn’t thought about him enough, hadn’t reached out when he should have. And now, the consequences of that neglect were staring him in the face.

“You’re right,” Charlie whispered, his voice cracking. “I hurt you. I didn’t reach out when I should have. I didn’t care enough to find out what was really going on. I was a shitty brother. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Percy.”

Percy’s expression softened just slightly, but the hurt was still there, deep and unyielding. He looked down, his hands trembling slightly as he clenched them in his lap.

“I don’t understand,” Percy said quietly, his voice trembling with emotion. “You and Bill... you were always close. I get that. But you were my favorite when I was younger. I looked up to you. I...” Percy’s voice broke, and Charlie felt his heart shatter. “I thought you cared.”

Without thinking, Charlie pulled Percy into another hug, this one tighter, more desperate. He could feel Percy’s shoulders shaking, feel the hot sting of tears in his own eyes as he held his brother close.

“You were my favorite too,” Charlie whispered, his voice breaking. “I know you’re not supposed to have favorites, but you were. You were the first baby I ever held. The first who made me an older brother. I promised I’d always look after you, and I... I failed. I failed you.”

Percy’s breath hitched, and Charlie could feel him trembling in his arms, the weight of years of hurt finally surfacing. The tension between them was thick, but there was something else too, an understanding maybe.

“When you were little,” Charlie murmured, his voice hoarse, “you used to come to me when you were scared at night. Not Bill, you came to me. And that made me feel like a better older brother. But we... we both failed you. We let you down.”

Percy let out a shaky breath, his voice muffled against Charlie’s chest. “Was I really your favorite?” His voice was soft, fragile, as if he didn’t quite believe it.

Charlie smiled sadly, pulling back just enough to look Percy in the eye. “You were,” he said firmly.

Percy let out a small, watery laugh, but Charlie could see the sadness still lingering behind his eyes. He had spent years feeling like he didn’t belong, like he wasn’t wanted, and Charlie realized just how deep those scars went.

“I didn’t think I was anyone’s favorite,” Percy admitted, his voice quiet, trembling. “I was sure I was... everyone’s least favorite. I thought I was just...”

Charlie’s heart ached at the words. How did we make him feel like this? He hugged Percy even tighter, not willing to let him go, as if holding him now could make up for all the years they had lost.

“I don’t care if you forgive me,” Charlie whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “But please, Percy, if you ever need anything, anything, know you come to me. Please.”

For a long moment, Percy didn’t respond. But Charlie could feel him relax, just a little, the tension easing from his body as they sat there together in the quiet of the apartment. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was a start.

Percy sat in the silence that followed Charlie’s apology, still feeling the weight of his brother’s words settle heavily in the room. He hadn’t forgiven Charlie, not yet, he hadn’t really forgiven any of them. The hurt ran too deep, the wounds too fresh. But there was a part of him, a small, tired part, that wanted to stop being angry all the time. He was so, so tired of it all.

Dad, Fred, and now Charlie, they had all said sorry. And more than that, they had said they loved him, that they cared. And Percy believed them, at least on some level. He could see it in their faces, in the way they spoke, in the way Charlie had hugged him so tightly just now. They were trying. But what he couldn’t understand, what still gnawed at him like an unsolved riddle, was why they had thought the worst of him in the first place.

I never thought Fred and George would betray me, even when they sent me those horrid things at work, Percy thought, bitterness rising up again. But they assumed I would. Why? Why did they assume I could just... turn my back on them?

The silence hung heavy between him and Charlie, but Percy was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He didn’t have the energy for another fight, not right now. So, instead of letting the bitterness take over again, he made a decision to try, even if it wasn’t forgiveness, not yet.

“Do you... do you want to stay for lunch?” Percy asked quietly, glancing up at Charlie.

Charlie blinked, looking slightly surprised by the offer. “Yeah,” he said softly, giving Percy a small, tentative smile. “I’d like that.”

Percy nodded, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. He didn’t need to make anything fancy; just something simple would do. As he moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and setting the kettle to boil, he felt Charlie’s presence behind him, the quiet of the apartment soothing the tension from earlier.

They made small talk, safe topics, mostly. Charlie told him a bit about the dragon reserves in Romania, and Percy asked questions about some of the magical creatures he had seen in Scotland at some point. It was easy, comfortable, almost like it used to be. But then Charlie spoke again, his voice hesitant.

“Penelope... she doesn’t really like us, does she?”

Percy froze for a moment, his hands stilling over the bread he was slicing. He took a breath, then resumed his task, choosing his words carefully. “She’s not a bad person,” Percy said slowly, not turning around. “She just... she cares about me. A lot. I care about her too, she's been my closest friend since our first day on the train, you know. And... well, she knows what happened between me and my family. I was living with her and her family for two weeks before I found this place, you know.”

Percy saw Charlie’s expression change, shame flickering across his face. He knew what that meant. Charlie felt guilty, knowing that Percy had been living with Penelope’s family instead of his own during those hard weeks after the fight.

Before the conversation could spiral into more guilt and apologies, there was a knock on the door. Percy glanced at Charlie. “Can you get that?”

Charlie nodded and stood, crossing the small room to open the door. When he did, a familiar deep voice filled the air.

“Charlie!” Kingsley Shacklebolt greeted him with a wide smile. “Good to see you.”

Kingsley stepped into the apartment, his broad frame filling the doorway. He looked around, taking in the cozy space before his eyes landed on Percy. The smile on his face softened, and he moved forward, pulling Percy into a warm, firm hug. Kingsley’s hand patted Percy’s back gently, and Percy felt a surprising wave of emotion rise in his chest. He had always looked up to Kingsley, admired him not just for his leadership but for his calm, steady presence through the chaos of the war.

“I wanted to come earlier,” Kingsley said, his voice low and warm, “but I thought it best to let you rest first. I’m so glad you’re alright, Perce.”

Percy smiled, feeling genuinely touched. “Thanks,” he said, his voice a little rough. “It’s good to see you, Kingsley.”

Kingsley’s hands rested briefly on Percy’s shoulders, his eyes kind as he spoke again. “You got me worried there kid,” he said, his voice full of sincerity. “You’ve become like a younger brother to me.”

Percy’s heart swelled at the words, a warmth spreading through his chest. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charlie’s expression sour slightly, his brow furrowing in what looked like... frustration? Percy wasn’t sure, but he pushed the thought aside.

“Stay for lunch, Minister,” Percy said quickly gesturing to the table while smiling. “We were just about to eat.”

Kingsley laughed, accepting the invitation, and they all sat down at the table. As they started to eat, the conversation turned light, but it wasn’t long before Kingsley began talking about the Ministry.

“It’s been a whirlwind, becoming Minister,” Kingsley said with a small laugh. “Never thought I’d be the one in charge. But it’s been... rewarding, I suppose. Busy, but good.”

“Congratulations, real,” Percy said earnestly. “You’re a great person. You deserve it. I know you’ll do your best for the Ministry. We’re lucky to have you.”

Kingsley smiled warmly at that. “Thanks, Percy. That means a lot.”

But then, Kingsley turned his gaze toward him with a curious expression. “What about you, though? Do you plan to keep your position as my assistant?”

Percy hesitated for a moment before answering. “I was actually thinking of applying to the Transportation Department,” he said quietly. “I want to work with portkeys. Creating and deactivating them. I really enjoyed that.”

Charlie’s head shot up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Portkeys?” he asked, blinking at Percy. “Since when did you work with portkeys?”

Kingsley chuckled, glancing between the brothers. “During the war,” he explained while eating. “Let me tell you, portkeys that have to bypass protective spells, like the ones around the Ministry or Hogwarts, are a pain in the arse. But Percy’s good with a wand. I don’t think I could’ve managed without him.”

Charlie stared at Kingsley, his shock evident. “I... I didn’t know.”

Percy shrugged, feeling slightly awkward. He had never really talked about what he’d done during the war, there hadn’t been much opportunity. “It was... something I picked up,” he said quietly. “I liked it.”

Kingsley nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s a difficult job,” he said, “but if that’s what you want, I’ll talk to the department heads. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to have you.”

Percy shook his head quickly, waving his hand. “No, it’s alright,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll apply myself. Thank you, though.”

Kingsley smiled at that, his eyes soft with approval. “You’ll do well,,” he said warmly. “I was so worried, you know.”

Percy smiled, though he felt grateful hearing all this from someone like Kingsley, who he admired so much.

Chapter Text

Bill hadn’t expected to see his father at Gringotts that day. He’d been working through his usual tasks at the bank, a mountain of paperwork, trying to keep his mind focused, unsuccessfully. The events from the dinner at the Burrow kept circling back, Percy’s voice still echoing in his head, heavy with hurt and anger. The knock on his office door was almost a welcome distraction.

When Bill opened the door, his heart skipped. There was his dad, standing there with that familiar, gentle smile.

“Dad?” Bill asked, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d see if my eldest son had time to join me for lunch,” Arthur said, his voice light but his eyes holding that same tired weight. “If you’re not too busy, of course.” Bill glanced back at his desk, the paperwork forgotten. “No, no, I’m free,” he said quickly, grabbing his coat.

They walked down Diagon Alley, passing by familiar shops until Arthur led them to a small, quiet café nestled in the corner, far from the bustling crowd. Bill hadn’t been there in years, but it was perfect, peaceful, intimate.

Once they sat down and ordered, Bill waited. He could tell there was something weighing on Arthur’s mind, something that had been eating at him, just as the guilt had been eating at Bill since the dinner with Percy.

“I had a talk with Percy,” Arthur said finally, his voice low but steady. “At the hospital.”

Bill tensed. His mind immediately went back to Percy’s sharp words at the Burrow, the anger in his brother’s eyes, the way Percy had seemed so distant, so full of pain. He’d been thinking about it non-stop, replaying the moment over and over in his head, wondering how they had let things get this bad.

Arthur sighed, looking down at his hands. “I want to believe we’re making progress, Percy and I. It’s slow, but... I think we’re even better than we were before the fight, as sad as this sounds.”

There was a quiet sadness in Arthur’s voice, a heaviness that Bill could feel deep in his chest. His father looked older in that moment, not just in years, but in the weight of all the emotions he had carried.

“I’ve not been a good father, Bill,” Arthur continued, his voice catching slightly. “Not just to Percy, but to all of you. I never really understood him. And worse, I didn’t make sure you all understood each other. I didn’t make sure you had good relationships with one another.”

Bill’s heart tightened. He knew his father had been struggling with this, he could see it in the way Arthur looked at Percy, the guilt that had flickered across his face. But hearing him say it, hearing the regret in his voice, made Bill’s chest ache even more.

“Dad, you weren’t a bad father,” Bill said quietly, trying to offer some reassurance. “You did your best. We all know that. None of us blame you.”

Arthur gave a small, sad smile, shaking his head. “I didn’t do enough,” he said softly. “Percy slipped through the cracks because he was quiet, because he always did what was expected of him. He didn’t cause problems, so we didn’t notice when he was struggling. And I didn’t see him, not the way I should have.”

Bill felt a pang of guilt twist in his stomach. He had watched as Percy was dismissed, as he tried to fit in, only to be brushed aside as the “boring one,” the one who didn’t cause chaos.

“I know you’re hurting, Bill,” Arthur said gently, his eyes full of understanding. “I saw it at dinner. I know how angry and hurt you are. But I think you need to talk to him. It’s not too late.”

Bill hesitated, his throat tightening. He didn’t know if Percy wanted to talk to him. After everything that had happened, after all the years he had spent ignoring him, after the fight, Bill almost was pretending that he didn’t even exist, how could Percy even trust him? The truth was, Bill hadn’t been there for his brother, not in the way Percy had needed.

“I should’ve been better,” Bill admitted, his voice thick with regret. “I could’ve answered his letters. I could’ve at least sent him an invitation to the wedding. But I didn’t. I didn’t even try.”

Arthur reached out, placing a gentle hand over Bill’s. “It’s not just on you,” he said softly. “We all made mistakes, Bill. But we can still try to fix them.”

Bill’s chest felt tight, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “I was the eldest, Dad,” he said, his voice trembling. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve been there for him. I always answered Charlie’s letters, or the twins’, or Ron’s and Ginny’s. But Percy... his letters seemed... I don’t know. Boring, I guess. I didn’t realize how much that must’ve hurt him.”

Arthur’s face softened with a deep sadness. “You’re human, Bill. None of us were perfect. But Percy isn’t asking for that. He’s just asking to be seen, to be acknowledged.”

Bill swallowed hard, blinking back the stinging in his eyes. And nowBill was feeling even worse. He had been so focused on his own guilt that he hadn’t thought about what Percy might need from him now. He hadn’t considered that Percy might still be waiting for something, an acknowledgment, an apology, anything that could start to mend the damage between them.

“I didn’t send him an invitation,” Bill muttered, the words thick with shame. “But he still came, he came to…to see my happiest moment.”

Arthur’s expression grew heavier, a sorrowful nod confirming the truth that had been gnawing at Bill for days. “Yes,” Arthur said quietly. “He came because he loves you…us, this is why he’s so hurt. That’s why I’m telling you, Bill, you need to talk to him. It won’t be easy, but if you try, if you show him you care, that you’re there for him, it will make a difference, for both of you.”

He didn’t know how to fix things with Percy, didn’t know where to even start, but his father was right. He had to try.

“I just...” Bill paused, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want Percy to think I don’t care. I do. I care so much, and I didn’t realize how much until it was too late. He was my brother. He is my brother. And I don’t know how to make him believe that.”

Arthur squeezed Bill’s hand gently, his eyes full of warmth and understanding. “You’ll show him, Bill. if you try, he’ll see it.”

Bill nodded slowly, his heart heavy but filled with a faint flicker of hope. Percy hadn’t forgiven them yet, and Bill didn’t expect him to, not after everything they had let happen. But maybe, there was a way forward.

Arthur smiled softly, his hand still resting on Bill’s. “You’re a good man, Bill. And Percy will see that, too.”

Bill took a deep breath, nodding again. He didn’t have all the answers. He didn’t know if Percy would ever forgive him. But for now, he had to try.

And he wouldn’t give up on his brother. Not this time.

George hadn’t expected Percy to stop by the shop. When the door chimed and Percy stepped inside, George looked up, blinking in surprise. His older brother stood in the entrance, stiff as ever, like he wasn’t sure whether he’d made the right choice coming in.

“Perce,” George greeted, wiping his hands on his apron as he moved toward him. “Didn’t think I’d see you here today. Fred’s not in, he’s out running an errand. Should be back soon, though.”

Percy shifted on his feet, looking a bit uncomfortable. “That’s alright,” he said, his voice clipped, controlled. “I can wait.”

George nodded, gesturing toward a stool by the counter. “Well, come on then. Sit down. You look like you could use a break.”

Percy sat down slowly, his back ramrod straight as always, his hands clasped neatly in his lap. George grabbed a stool on the other side of the counter and sat across from him, trying to ease the tension. They made small talk, George filling the silence with updates on the shop, the new products, a few jokes about customers who hadn’t quite understood how their Skiving Snackboxes worked.

But it didn’t take long for the light conversation to fade into awkwardness. The tension sat thick in the air, hanging between them, unspoken but heavy. George wasn’t used to this. He and Fred always knew how to fill silences, how to keep things moving, but this? This was different. It felt like they were standing on the edge of something, neither of them sure how to take the first step.

After a moment, George cleared his throat, feeling the weight of what he’d wanted to say for a long time pressing on him. “Perce,” he started, his voice quieter now, more serious. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. About... everything.”

Percy looked at him, his expression cautious but curious. He didn’t say anything, just waited.

George shifted on his stool, suddenly feeling awkward, unsure of how to explain himself. “We, me and Fred, we were pretty... well, we were pretty shitty to you, weren’t we? Even before the fight.”

Percy blinked, his face betraying nothing, but George could feel the shift in the air.

“The pranks, the jokes... were cruel many times, even if we thought they were in good fun many times” George continued, his voice faltering. “But we didn’t see how much it hurt you. And I’m sorry for that.”

Percy remained silent, his eyes locked on George, listening but not reacting. George swallowed, his nerves getting the better of him. Fred had broken down when he’d apologized to Percy, full of raw emotion, but George wasn’t like that. He wasn’t the type to break down. But he did feel guilty. Deeply, deeply guilty.

“I know Fred’s already said it,” George added, his voice softer, more strained. “But... we didn’t mean half the things we said. We were jealous, many times, about how the teachers, mum, even aunt Muriel, were always talking about you. We were just messing around. We thought you didn’t care.”

Percy’s brow furrowed slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was something bitter beneath it.

“You thought I didn’t care?” Percy asked, his tone controlled but pointed. “Really?”

George shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he admitted, looking down at the counter. “You were always so... calm about everything. Almost detached. It felt like nothing we did got to you.”

Percy let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You thought I didn’t care because I didn’t react the way you wanted me to. But that’s not the same thing, George.”

George looked up, meeting Percy’s eyes. There was a quiet anger there, something he hadn’t fully noticed before. He felt a stab of guilt twist in his gut.

Percy sighed, his voice soft but filled with years of frustration. “Bill had Charlie, Ron had Ginny and you had Fred... you always had each other. I was... an easy target. It mattered how I felt. You’d laugh it off anyway.”

George winced. He hadn’t expected Percy to be so direct, but then again, Percy had always been blunt when it mattered. George swallowed the knot in his throat, searching for the right words.

“We never thought...” George trailed off, struggling to find the right way to explain. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you didn’t matter.”

Percy gave a short nod, his expression unreadable. For a moment, George thought maybe the conversation was over, that they’d leave it there, but then Percy spoke again, his voice quiet, almost too soft.

“It’s not that,” Percy said, looking away, his eyes fixed on the shop’s shelves as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet George’s gaze. “It’s about what you thought of me. You, Fred, Dad, the whole family. If something had happened to me... if I’d died in the war...”

Percy paused, his voice faltering. “It wouldn’t have mattered as much. Not like if it had been Fred or anyone else.”

The room went silent. George felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

Percy was looking away, like he didn’t want to see George’s reaction, but George couldn’t stand it. Without thinking, he stood up and crossed the small distance between them, grabbing Percy in a tight, desperate hug. He didn’t care if Percy stiffened in his arms or if this wasn’t how Percy expected him to respond. He needed to make Percy understand.

“Don’t ever say that,” George muttered, his voice shaking as he held his brother close. “Don’t ever say that again.”

Percy didn’t respond at first, but George could feel the tension in his body, the way Percy hadn’t expected the embrace, the way he was caught off guard by the sudden burst of emotion.

“We would have cared, Perce,” George continued, his voice hoarse with emotion. “We do care. Don’t you ever think it wouldn’t have mattered if something happened to you.”

Percy’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I’m not saying you wouldn’t have cared, George. I just... I don’t think it would’ve hit you all as hard if it hadn’t been me.”

George felt something snap inside him. His grip on Percy tightened, and his heart pounded in his chest. “No. Don’t say that,” George whispered fiercely. “Don’t ever say that. We may have been awful many times, and we may not have been the closest, but don’t you ever think that you don’t matter.”

Percy stood there, still and quiet, but George refused to let go. He held on tighter, his voice trembling as he added, “You’re part of this family. You’ve always been part of this family. I don’t care what you think, losing you would have broken us.”

George could feel the tension slowly easing from Percy’s shoulders, just a little. They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence thick but not uncomfortable anymore. George didn’t care how long they stayed like that. He just needed Percy to understand, to feel how much he mattered.

“You know,” George said after a long pause, his voice softer now, “I don’t think we’ve hugged like this since we were kids. Not since that time I had that stupid fight with Fred, and you were the one comforted me.”

Percy let out a soft, shaky laugh. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. “You were a mess. I didn’t think you’d ever stop crying.”

George chuckled, though the sadness still lingered in his chest. “You’ve always been the one who held things together, Perce. Even when we didn’t realize it.”

Percy didn’t say anything, but George could feel the weight of those words settling between them.

George pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at Percy. He wasn’t used to seeing Percy like this, vulnerable, a little broken, but there was something comforting in it too, like they were finally seeing each other for the first time in years.

“I know I didn’t say it enough,” George whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “But I love you, Perce. Always have. You were the only one who was always there, you know? At home, at school. Always there .”

Percy blinked, his eyes flickering with something George hadn’t seen before, maybe understanding, maybe forgiveness, or maybe just relief. “I love you too,” Percy whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity.

They stood there for a long moment, letting the words hang between them, letting the years of distance and hurt slowly start to heal.

Chapter Text

The glow of the television flickered across the dimly lit room, and Percy leaned back against the couch, feeling the familiar comfort of Oliver pressed against his side. They were watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer , something Oliver had insisted on watching after they got home. It wasn’t exactly Percy’s usual kind of show, but with Oliver’s arm draped casually over his shoulder and the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing beside him, Percy didn’t mind one bit.

As the episode rolled on, Percy felt Oliver’s hand start to wander, fingers trailing lightly down his arm, teasing. It was subtle at first, almost absent-minded, but Percy knew better. There was a certain playfulness in the way Oliver’s fingers lingered on his skin, the way his touch grew a little more deliberate.

“Enjoying the show?” Oliver asked, his voice low, a hint of amusement in it as his hand moved to rest on Percy’s thigh.

Percy’s heart quickened, though he kept his voice even. “I’m starting to see the appeal,” he replied, eyes still on the screen, though his mind was definitely elsewhere.

Oliver chuckled, the sound warm and familiar, sending a pleasant shiver down Percy’s spine. His hand shifted slightly, fingers brushing higher up Percy’s leg, and Percy’s breath caught. He glanced at Oliver out of the corner of his eye, but Oliver was pretending to be engrossed in the show, though the grin on his face was unmistakable.

"You know," Oliver said after a moment, his voice casual, but with that mischievous lilt Percy knew all too well, "I would like to put something in my mouth right now." His hand moved just a little higher, and Percy could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

Percy arched a brow, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips. "Is that so? Do you want to order something to eat?"

Oliver laughed softly, his eyes gleaming with that playful spark. “No, not really, I am not hungry.” His hand slid higher still, his fingers now teasing the edge of Percy’s waistband. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of Percy’s ear. "I’ve been thinking... I really, really want to have you in my mouth."

Percy’s breath hitched, his heart pounding a little harder. His usual sharp response caught in his throat as Oliver’s hand moved with more intention now, fingers tracing over the growing bulge beneath Percy’s trousers. Percy swallowed, trying to keep his composure, but the way Oliver was looking at him, hungry, yet tender, was making that difficult.

Oliver smirked, pressing a kiss to Percy’s jaw. "What do you say?" he whispered, his lips trailing down Percy’s neck. "Think you can tear yourself away from the vampires for a bit?"

Percy rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose,” he muttered, trying to sound indifferent, but his voice came out rough, and Oliver grinned at the effect he was having.

In one smooth movement, Oliver shifted so that he was straddling Percy’s lap, their bodies pressed together. Percy could feel the heat of Oliver’s hands as they slipped beneath his shirt, fingers tracing patterns across his skin. The warmth of Oliver’s touch, the weight of him so close, it was overwhelming in the best way. Percy’s hands found Oliver’s waist, pulling him closer, and Oliver let out a soft, pleased sound, his lips capturing Percy’s in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It was all heat and want, the kiss deepening, their breaths mingling as Percy’s hands gripped Oliver’s hips, steadying him. Oliver’s fingers tangled in Percy’s hair, tugging slightly, and Percy felt a shiver run down his spine.

“I missed you,” Oliver murmured against Percy’s lips, his voice soft but full of meaning. “I missed all of you. Every bit.”

Percy’s heart clenched at the raw honesty in Oliver’s voice. The last few months had been so hard, too many close calls, too much distance between them during the war. And now, here they were, finally together, and Oliver wasn’t holding back. Percy could feel the depth of Oliver’s longing in every kiss, every touch, like he was making up for all the lost time.

“I missed you too,” Percy whispered back, his voice barely audible, but full of truth. He leaned into Oliver, kissing him again, slower this time, savoring the closeness. His hands slid under Oliver’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

Oliver pulled back just enough to look into Percy’s eyes, his gaze softening, though there was still that playful glint. “You‘re ok, right? No headache or anything else?” he asked, his voice more serious now, his fingers brushing Percy’s cheek. “I don’t want to push you.”

Percy smiled, feeling a wave of affection wash over him. Even in moments like this, Oliver always made sure he was okay, always checked in. It was one of the many reasons Percy loved him so much. “I’m fine,” Percy assured him, his voice steady.

Oliver’s eyes darkened slightly at the words, and he grinned, leaning in to kiss Percy again, his hands starting to work at the buttons of Percy’s trousers. “Good,” he whispered against Percy’s lips. “Because I’ve been wanting to feel that pretty dick of yours inside me for way too long.”

Percy’s breath hitched as Oliver’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of his trousers, the heat of his touch sending sparks through his body. Percy’s mind was spinning, his usual composure completely shattered by the way Oliver’s hand moved, the way his lips never left his skin. It was almost too much, but in the best way. He could feel himself melting under Oliver’s touch, all the tension, all the stress from the last few months fading away as Oliver's fingers wrapped around him, stroking with slow, deliberate care.

The teasing words, the innuendos, everything fell away as Percy’s head tipped back, his breath coming in short gasps. Oliver’s lips pressed soft kisses to his neck, murmuring tender, half-playful things Percy could barely register as Oliver’s mouth moved lower, his hands steady, always gentle.

Percy reached out, gripping the back of Oliver’s head, pulling him back up into a kiss that was both desperate and tender. They moved together in perfect rhythm, their touches full of hunger, but always with that underlying care, the warmth of years of love between them.

“I love your hair like that, they are longer and it’s cute. You're very pretty” Oliver whispered

Percy smiled, his fingers brushing lightly over Oliver’s arm. “Am I now?” he whispered back, his voice steady but full of affection.

With a grin, Oliver leaned in again, kissing Percy deeply as his hand worked Percy’s trousers down further. Oliver’s lips trailed down Percy’s neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses to his skin, murmuring playful comments between each kiss. “You taste better than I remembered,” Oliver whispered against Percy’s skin, his voice filled with teasing affection.

Percy let out a shaky laugh, his hand threading through Oliver’s hair, pulling him closer. “Always with the charm.”

“You love it,” Oliver shot back, his grin evident even as his lips trailed lower.

And Percy couldn’t deny it. He did love it. He loved everything about Oliver, the way he could turn even the most intimate moments into something filled with laughter and warmth. He loved the way Oliver could make him feel like the most important person in the world, even in the simplest of touches.

Oliver smiled, his hands working quickly to free Percy from his trousers. The cool air hit Percy’s skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of Oliver’s touch, and before Percy could fully process it, Oliver’s mouth was on him.

It was like fire, like all the tension and longing came rushing to the surface at once. Percy let out a sharp breath, his hands threading through Oliver’s hair as his mind swam. Oliver was good at this, too good, and Percy could feel himself losing control with every passing second.

The room felt too hot, too small, but Percy didn’t care. All he could focus on was Oliver, the feel of his mouth, the heat of his hands, the steady rhythm that was driving Percy mad. His breath came in short, shaky bursts, his whole body trembling with the intensity of it all.

When Oliver pulled back, Percy let out a soft, desperate noise, his body still thrumming with need. But Oliver wasn’t done. He moved back up, straddling Percy’s lap again, his hands finding Percy’s face, pulling him into a deep kiss. It was full of heat and urgency, but there was something else there too, something softer, something that made Percy’s heart ache in the best way.

“I love you,” Oliver murmured against Percy’s lips, his voice full of emotion. “I missed you so much.”

Percy’s chest tightened at the words, a wave of affection washing over him. He pulled Oliver closer, his hands gripping his waist as he kissed him back, his breath shaky. “I love you too,” Percy whispered, his voice raw with feeling. “So much.”

They moved together, the heat between them building again, until Oliver finally positioned himself above Percy, the air thick with anticipation. Percy’s hands gripped Oliver’s hips, his heart pounding as Oliver sank down onto him, their bodies coming together in one fluid motion. Percy let out a sharp breath, his eyes closing as the sensation washed over him, intense and overwhelming.

Oliver’s movements were slow at first, deliberate, as though he was savoring every moment, every inch of Percy. They rocked together, their breaths heavy and uneven, the world around them fading away. Percy could feel the tension coiling in his stomach, building with every movement, every kiss, every soft sound Oliver made.

“God, Percy,” Oliver gasped, his hands braced on Percy’s chest, his breath coming in short, desperate bursts. “I missed your cock so much.”

Percy’s hands tightened on Oliver’s hips, his own breath catching in his throat as he pulled Oliver down harder, deeper. “I’m glad,” Percy whispered, and both laughed and moaned softly.

Their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, every touch, every kiss, bringing them closer, the heat between them rising to a fever pitch. Oliver’s head tipped back, his eyes fluttering closed as he let out a soft moan, and Percy felt his own body trembling, the tension building, almost unbearable.

It wasn’t long before they both tipped over the edge, the intensity of it leaving them breathless, trembling in each other’s arms. Oliver collapsed against Percy’s chest, his breath hot against Percy’s skin, and they lay there, tangled together, their hearts pounding in sync.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything, their breaths the only sound in the quiet room. Percy’s hand moved gently over Oliver’s back, tracing soft patterns against his skin, and Oliver let out a soft, contented sigh.

“I love you,” Oliver whispered again, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so, so, so much.”

Percy smiled, his hand brushing through Oliver’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “I love you too, more than anything,” he murmured.

Oliver kissed him softly, his lips brushing against Percy’s in a slow, lingering way. “Are you up for a second round?” he whispered, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Percy laughed breathlessly, shaking his head with a smirk. “Give me twenty minutes,” he teased, “and I’ll eat you out so well, you’ll be feeling it until next Monday.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, his smile growing wider. “Promises, promises, Weasley.”

Percy winked, pulling Oliver closer. “Oh, you’ll see.”

Chapter Text

Arthur hadn’t expected the day to turn out this way. It had started off simple enough, a family lunch, Molly’s insistence that Percy come along with Kingsley after his meeting, an effort to bring everyone together. Arthur had hoped for peace, for a warm afternoon where they could all sit around the table like they used to. But it never stayed simple for long, not with all that had happened.

Percy had arrived with Kingsley, and the atmosphere, at first, was light. Charlie and Bill, still at home for a while longer, joined in the conversation, looking with slight jealousy as Kingsley teased Percy, making it clear just how well the two of them got along. Arthur could see it too, Kingsley had a soft spot for Percy, and Percy seemed more at ease with him than with anyone else in the room.

“Oliver still jealous of me, Percy?” Kingsley had grinned, nudging him. The whole table had laughed, including Percy, though there was a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

“Well, I’m sure he still thinks I spend too much time with you,” Percy quipped, his voice lighter than Arthur had heard in weeks. It felt good to see him like that, joking, engaged. The others, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George, had shared updates on Hogwarts, the shop, the Auror program, light conversation that filled the room with laughter and ease. For a moment, Arthur allowed himself to relax.

But then Kingsley, in his usual frank manner, turned to Percy with a grin. “Oh, I heard you got accepted to the Portkey job! Knew you would, no doubt there.”

Arthur blinked, surprised. Portkey job? He hadn’t expected that.

Percy’s face brightened a bit, though there was something quieter behind his smile, something more restrained. “Yes, I did,” Percy said. “I’ll be handling it alone for a while, seems like no one else applied.”

Arthur couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows slightly, intrigued. Not negatively, just surprised. "You’re going to be working on Portkeys?"

Percy nodded, looking a little more serious now. “During the war, I meddled a bit with them, Apparition too. I ended up really enjoying it, so I applied.”

Arthur was about to ask more, about how long Percy had been interested, about how involved the job might be, when he saw Molly stiffen across the table. The shift in her expression was immediate. He knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth.

“You could’ve stayed at the Minister’s office,” Molly said, her voice sharper than it needed to be. “Why would you go there, Percy? Since when have you decided this?” She looked at him with that familiar mixture of worry and frustration that Arthur had seen so many times before. “You’ll have to test them, won’t you? Make sure they work properly? That’s dangerous, Percy. You can’t just go off and—”

Percy’s expression darkened, his posture stiffening. Arthur saw the sadness there, the quiet frustration, though Percy was keeping himself calm. “Mum,” Percy said softly but firmly, “I like it. And I’m not fifteen anymore. I can decide on my own.”

Molly, never one to be easily dissuaded, pressed on. “But it’s risky! You could be doing something safer, something more respectable! The Ministry, Percy, why go to something like this when you could work with the Minister himself?”

Arthur saw Ginny roll her eyes, and across the table, Ron’s jaw clenched as he glanced at Percy in sympathy. Bill and Charlie exchanged glances, both too familiar with the argument to bother interrupting. Arthur’s heart sank, knowing where this conversation was headed.

And Percy, for all his calm, finally let the frustration seep through. His voice was quiet, but the words cut through the room like a knife.

“Why does everything have to have a price in this house?” Percy asked, his tone heavy with something Arthur recognized as hurt. The room fell silent, everyone’s eyes snapping to Percy, taken aback by the sharpness of the question.

Arthur felt the tension in his chest tighten. There it was , the question Percy had likely been holding in for years, the one that no one else had dared to voice quite so directly.

Percy’s eyes flicked between his mother, his siblings, and Arthur, his voice growing firmer. “Why can’t we just do something we like for a job? Why does everything we do have to meet some unspoken standard? We know you love us,” Percy added, and his voice softened just a little. “We do. But I’m tired, Mum. I can’t take it anymore. Every decision we make is compared and measured against your expectations. Every single thing.”

Arthur’s heart ached as Percy’s voice wavered slightly, and he saw the raw truth of his words hanging in the room. Molly sat frozen, her hands clasped together, her face a mixture of shock and hurt.

Percy pressed on, though now his voice was steadier, more resolute. “George and Fred have a successful shop, Charlie and Bill have jobs they love, Ginny’s brilliant at Quidditch, and Ron’s more than capable of becoming an Auror. Why can’t that be enough for you? Why can’t it ever just... be enough?”

Arthur’s chest tightened painfully. This was it. This was the thing that had been brewing beneath the surface for so long, the weight they had all been carrying, though it was Percy who had said it aloud. Percy, once again, the one who dared to speak the truth everyone else had been avoiding.

A heavy silence fell over the room. Arthur could feel the tension like a physical thing pressing down on them all. Bill and Charlie sat quietly, exchanging uneasy glances. Ginny and Ron looked down, their jaws clenched, clearly feeling the weight of their own frustrations with their mother. Even Fred and George, usually quick to break the tension, were quiet, their faces carefully neutral.

Arthur tried to say something, anything, to ease the weight in the room, but the words caught in his throat. How had it come to this? How had he, as their father, allowed things to get so strained that Percy, who had always tried so hard, who had always strived to be perfect, felt the need to break like this?

Kingsley, sensing the tension, cleared his throat and tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. “All your kids have done well for themselves. It’s hard to raise that many and not be proud of each one of them.”

Arthur gave Kingsley a grateful glance, but it was clear the strain hadn’t lifted. Molly looked shocked, almost wounded, but Arthur could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to process what Percy had said. The silence in the room felt suffocating, heavy with all the unsaid things that had been held back for too long.

Arthur sighed inwardly, his heart aching. He knew Percy was right. He knew that each of their children had felt the pressure of Molly’s expectations, her desire for them to be safe, successful, perfect in her eyes. It had always come from a place of love, but it had also weighed them down. And now, it was Percy who had finally said what everyone else had thought for years.

Arthur reached across the table, placing a hand gently over Molly’s, squeezing it in silent support. She looked at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears, and he gave her a soft nod, silently urging her to let it go.

“I think we’ve had enough talk about work for today,” Arthur said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. “Let’s finish lunch, shall we?”

Molly’s eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, hurt, guilt, love, but she nodded, though it was clear the sting of Percy’s words would linger long after the meal was over.

As they all resumed eating, the mood in the room was unmistakably strained, and Arthur couldn’t shake the feeling that they had crossed into new, difficult territory. Once again, Percy had been the one to speak up.

And Arthur, as he sat there watching his children, knew he had to find a way to make it right. For all of them.

Molly sat at the kitchen table, her hands folded tightly in her lap, staring at the uneaten dessert in front of her. She could hear the murmur of voices from the living room, laughter even. The mood out there had lightened since lunch, but Molly couldn’t shake the heavy feeling pressing down on her chest.

Percy’s words echoed in her mind, replaying over and over. She hadn’t expected it. Not from Percy. And yet, perhaps, deep down, she should have known. Percy had always been the one who held everything in until it couldn’t stay bottled up any longer.

She sighed deeply, blinking back the sting of tears. She didn’t want to cry, not here, not with everyone still in the house. But she couldn’t help feeling like she had somehow failed. The frustration in Percy’s voice, the exhaustion, how had she missed it for so long?

The sound of footsteps approaching drew her from her thoughts. Molly looked up just as Percy walked into the kitchen, his expression soft but serious. He paused, glancing around as if making sure no one else was there before sitting down across from her. There was a gentle tension in his movements, a hesitancy she wasn’t used to seeing in her son.

“Mum,” Percy said quietly, his voice low but steady. “I wanted to check on you. I didn’t mean to... make you sad.”

Molly pressed her lips together, feeling her throat tighten. She hadn’t expected him to come after her, especially after what had been said during dinner. “You didn’t make me sad, Percy,” she replied, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m just... I’m just sorry if I’ve made things so hard for you.”

Percy looked at her, his eyes softening in that way they always had when he was trying to explain something difficult. “Mum, I know you love us,” Percy began, his voice quieter now, full of emotion. “And I know you care. You’ve always cared. But sometimes... it’s exhausting.”

Molly swallowed hard, looking at her son. He sounded so much older, so much wearier than she remembered. There was something deeply pained in his voice, something that made her heart ache.

“I just…” Percy paused, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted you to know... you were the only person who ever came after me when I left. You tried to talk to me, even when I was angry. And even though it hurt when you said I should apologize, like I was the only one in the wrong... at least you came. At least you cared enough to try.”

Molly’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She had tried. She had thought she was doing the right thing, urging Percy to make amends, to find his way back to the family. But now, sitting here, she could see how much it had hurt him too.

“I know how hard it must have been for you to raise so many us,” Percy continued, his voice steady but sad. “How much pressure there was. You always had expectations for us, and I get that. You want the best for us. But... sometimes, it feels like we’re competing. Competing for your approval. Competing to be the best in your eyes.”

Molly felt her breath catch. Competing? She hadn’t wanted that. She hadn’t meant for that. “Oh, ” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I never wanted you to feel like that.”

Percy gave her a small, sad smile. “I know, Mum. But it’s true. I spent years trying to live up to Bill, to be just as good as him. Fred told me they were jealous of me, of how you’d fuss over my grades or how I’d always be the one who followed the rules. But I was jealous of them too. Of how easy things seemed for them. They were the fun ones, the ones everyone wanted to be around, unlike me.”

Molly’s heart broke a little more with every word. She had never wanted her children to feel this way, never wanted them to think they had to compete with each other. She loved them all, equally, in her own way. But she could see now how her worries, her constant nagging, had made them feel otherwise.

“I just...” Percy’s voice wavered, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “I know you love us. But sometimes it feels like everything we do has to fit into this mold, this idea of what’s best in your eyes. And it’s exhausting, Mum. It makes it hard to just... be ourselves.”

Molly’s tears spilled over then, silent and warm, her chest tightening with every word. She had pushed them too hard. She had wanted so much for them, for all of them, but she hadn’t seen what it was costing them.

Percy hesitated for a moment before he reached across the table, taking her hand in his. His touch was gentle, and his voice softened again. “We don’t need much, Mum. We just need you to have a little more faith in us. To trust us. To support the choices we make, even if they’re not what you wanted.”

Molly let out a shaky breath, squeezing Percy’s hand tightly as her tears fell freely now. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking with the weight of it all. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better mother.”

Percy’s face softened, his eyes full of the quiet love that Molly had always known was there, even through the years of distance and hurt. “Don’t say that,” Percy said gently, getting up and walking around the table to kneel beside her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. “You were a good mother. You are a good mother. Just... maybe a little demanding,” he added with a small, teasing smile.

Molly let out a soft, watery laugh, resting her head on Percy’s shoulder as she hugged him back tightly. “I only ever wanted what was best for you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much, Percy. I just wanted to protect you.”

“I know,” Percy whispered, his voice soft, comforting. “And I love you too. But you have to trust us to make our own choices.”

Molly nodded against his shoulder, her tears still falling. She hadn’t realized how much pressure she had placed on them, how much her constant worrying had weighed on them all.

Before she could say anything more, the sound of footsteps approached, and suddenly Fred and George appeared in the doorway. They both took in the sight of Molly crying in Percy’s arms, their faces softening.

“Oi, what’s this, then?” Fred asked, his voice light but gentle. He moved toward her and sat on one side of her, while George plopped down on the other side. “You’ve been making Mum cry, Perce?” he added, though his tone was far from accusatory.

George leaned in, wrapping an arm around Molly’s shoulders, his voice softer than usual. “Come on, Mum. We love you.”

Fred grinned, leaning in to kiss her loudly on the cheek, his arm wrapping around her other side. “Very, very much.”

Molly let out a soft laugh, wiping at her eyes as her sons all crowded around her, their affection overwhelming in the best way. She could feel the warmth of their love, the way they were there with her, for her, despite all the arguments and misunderstandings.

“You boys,” she muttered, shaking her head even as she leaned into their embraces. “I love you all so much.”

Fred pressed another exaggerated kiss to her cheek, making her laugh again. “Just have a little more faith in us, Mum,” Fred said, echoing Percy’s earlier words but with that familiar twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “We’re a bunch of Weasleys. We’ll figure things out.”

George grinned, nodding in agreement. “We know you want the best for us, and if we need advice on anything, we know exactly where to come.”

Molly smiled through her tears, her heart full of love for her children. They were right. She had to trust them, to believe that they would make their way in the world, just as they always had. But no matter what, they would always be hers, her wonderful, brilliant children.

Chapter Text

Percy sat in the garden, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the Burrow’s uneven lawn. His fingers absentmindedly twirled the cigarette between them, the smoke curling lazily into the air as he took a slow drag. He knew he should stop. Oliver had been on him about it for months now—it’s bad for you, you don’t need it—and Percy agreed, in theory. But some habits were harder to shake.

He exhaled, watching the smoke dissipate into the soft glow of the evening. The garden was peaceful, a sharp contrast to the emotional storm raging inside him since dinner. He needed this moment to clear his head. The weight of the conversation with Molly still hung heavy on him. He had said what he needed to, but the air still felt thick with unspoken things.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel, breaking his momentary solitude. Percy glanced sideways and saw Bill approaching, his tall frame moving with that easy grace Percy had always admired, even when he didn’t want to.

“Hey,” Bill greeted, his voice casual, too casual. “Didn’t know you were into Portkeys and all that. Sounds... cool.”

Percy inhaled deeply from his cigarette, trying to keep his expression neutral. He knew Bill was trying, but the words rubbed him the wrong way. After everything, this was how Bill wanted to talk to him? As if nothing had happened?

“And I didn’t know you smoked,” Bill added, raising an eyebrow as he sat down on the bench next to him. “Mum’s gonna lose it if she finds out.”

Percy let out a small, humorless laugh, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette. “Yeah, well... I’ve been smoking since school,” he replied, keeping his tone light, but there was an edge beneath it. He took another drag, eyes focused on the garden in front of him, refusing to look at Bill. “I’m trying to stop, actually. Oliver’s not too happy about it, and he’s right. But... I started smoking more during the war. You know, stress and all that.”

He couldn’t help the passive-aggressiveness that seeped into his words, despite his attempt to keep things civil. The fact that Bill had approached him like nothing had happened, like they hadn’t just spent years estranged, gnawed at him. Percy could feel his patience wearing thin.

Bill glanced at him, a flicker of something like hurt passing over his features, but Percy didn’t let himself feel bad for it. Not this time. Not after everything.

“I just...” Bill hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. “I didn’t think you’d be someone who smokes.”

Percy’s grip tightened around the cigarette, and he felt a surge of anger flare up inside him. Didn’t think I’d be someone who smokes. Of course. They all had these ideas about him, these preconceived notions of who Percy Weasley was supposed to be.

He exhaled sharply, turning his head to finally look at Bill, the irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior. “Mmm, weird,” Percy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You all seemed to have the worst opinion of me, so why didn’t you believe I’d smoke and drink? Or, you know, go out and suck up to Death Eaters while I was at it?”

The words came out sharper than he intended, but Percy didn’t regret them. Not this time. He watched as Bill’s face fell, taken aback by the venom in his voice, but Percy wasn’t done. He had held this in for too long.

Bill blinked, looking hurt and unsure for a moment, but then he swallowed and tried again. “Percy, I’m... I’m sorry for everything,” Bill started, his voice softer now, more hesitant. “For not being there for you when you were younger, for what happened after the fight. I didn’t... I didn’t handle things well.”

Percy felt his chest tighten, the anger bubbling up again, more potent than ever. He stubbed out his cigarette on the bench, standing abruptly and crossing his arms. He’s sorry. Of course, he’s sorry. Percy had heard it from everyone at this point—his dad, Charlie, Fred, George. They were all sorry. But sorry wasn’t enough anymore.

“You were hurt, Bill,” Percy said, his voice shaking slightly with the force of his emotions. “You could have died. You got married, and you were happy, and you were okay with me not being there.”

Bill flinched at the words, but Percy pressed on, the floodgates opening now.

“You were so sure I was a traitor,” Percy spat, the bitterness pouring out of him in waves. “What do you expect me to say? I’ve asked the same thing to Dad, to Charlie, to Fred, to George. Why did you all have the worst opinion of me? None of you answered me. And you, Bill... you weren’t even close to me. My whole life, I looked up to you. Every day, Mum would go on and on about how amazing William was—‘William this, William that.’”

Percy’s breath hitched, and he felt his throat tighten as the words kept pouring out, years of pent-up frustration and hurt finally finding their voice. “You sent letters and advice to everyone but me,” Percy continued, his voice shaking with anger. “Do you know how many times you sent letters to Ron, to Ginny, to the twins... and the only thing I got was a quick ‘best wishes to Percy’ at the end?”

Bill opened his mouth, but Percy cut him off, his voice trembling now with a mixture of fury and pain. “You never reached out. You never asked about me. So don’t sit here and act like you care now, Bill. Don’t sit here and act like your sorry fixes anything. Fuck you and your sorry.”

Bill hadn’t expected Percy to react like this. Not with so much anger, so much hurt lacing every word. It felt like a punch to the gut, every bitter comment sinking deeper into his chest. Percy’s eyes were blazing, his body tense with years of frustration and pain that Bill hadn’t seen. And now it was all crashing down around him, and Bill didn’t know how to fix it.

“You’re right,” Bill said softly, his throat tight, his heart pounding. “You’re right, Percy. I don’t know what else to say. I was a shitty brother. We were wrong—I was wrong for ever thinking like that about you.”

Percy’s eyes narrowed, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, but Bill could see the tremble in his hands. The hurt ran deep, deeper than Bill had ever realized.

“We were never close,” Bill admitted, his voice breaking a little, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I do. I care about you, Percy. I love you. You’re my brother, and I’m sorry I never showed it.”

Percy’s lips curled in a bitter smile, and the look he shot Bill felt like another blow. “Yeah, well, I had to be blasted off a wall to convince you I wasn’t spying on you all. Good to know where I stood.”

Bill flinched at that. The memory of Percy lying in the Great Hall, unconscious and battered, had haunted him since the war ended. The thought of losing Percy—his brother, his family—had hit him like a hammer to the chest that day, and yet here Percy was, this angry, this hurt, all because they hadn’t seen him, hadn’t trusted him. Bill felt his throat close up, guilt burning at the back of his eyes.

Without thinking, Bill moved closer, wrapping his arms around Percy in a hug. Percy went stiff in his arms, not hugging back, but Bill held on anyway. He couldn’t let Percy go, not now. Not when he knew how much he had failed him. He felt his own tears threatening to spill over, but he swallowed them back, his voice trembling as he spoke.

“I’m so sorry, Percy,” Bill whispered. “I just want a chance. A chance to fix things. I know I can’t ask you to forgive me right now, but please... please know that I care. We all care. And I’m so, so sorry it took almost losing you to realize how wrong we were.”

Percy didn’t say anything. He was still stiff in Bill’s arms, but Bill could feel the shuddering breath Percy took, like he was trying to keep control. After a long moment, Percy broke away from the hug, wiping furiously at his eyes beneath his glasses, trying to hide the tears that were already falling. Bill’s heart broke a little more at the sight.

“I don’t...” Percy’s voice cracked, and he quickly pressed his hand to his mouth, trying to regain composure. His voice was quieter now, but there was still so much pain in it, so much raw hurt. “You didn’t even invite me to your wedding, Bill. You didn’t tell me you almost died. I don’t understand what I did... what did I do to make you not like me this much?”

Bill’s heart sank, and he felt like the worst brother on earth in that moment. How had he let it come to this? How had he let Percy feel so... unwanted? Percy, who had always been the responsible one, the one who tried so hard, who had just wanted to be seen, to be valued by them.

“I didn’t... I didn’t mean for you to feel like that,” Bill said, his voice shaking. He reached out, but Percy was already wiping his eyes again, trying to pretend like he wasn’t crying, but it didn’t work. Percy was falling apart in front of him, and Bill felt powerless. “It wasn’t because we didn’t like you. It wasn’t that. It was...”

Bill struggled for words. How could he explain the distance? How could he admit that he hadn’t made the same effort with Percy that he had with the others? That he had let that distance grow, year after year, without even noticing it?

“I don’t know why I didn’t make the same effort,” Bill said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I swear to you, it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t because we didn’t care.”

Percy sniffed, his glasses fogged up slightly as he wiped at his eyes again, but he didn’t respond. Bill felt his heart breaking all over again. How could Percy ever believe they didn’t care? But looking at him now, it was clear that’s exactly what he thought.

“I’m so sorry, Perce,” Bill whispered, stepping closer again, his arms opening up to pull Percy back into a hug. This time, Percy didn’t pull away. He let Bill hug him, his shoulders shaking as he cried quietly against Bill’s chest.

Bill held him tightly, his own tears finally spilling over. “It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “It wasn’t. I should’ve been there. I’m so, so sorry.”

Percy’s fingers gripped the fabric of Bill’s shirt, his body trembling with the weight of everything he’d been holding in. And Bill held on, because that was all he could do now—hold on and hope that somehow, he could make things right.

“I love you, Percy,” Bill murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Percy’s head, his voice cracking. “I was so afraid we were going to lose you again. I don’t want to lose you.”

Percy pulled away just enough to look at Bill, his eyes red and watery, but there was something else there now too—something softer, like the anger was finally ebbing away, even if just a little.

“You didn’t,” Percy whispered, though his voice was still shaky.

Bill smiled through his tears, his heart aching but also filled with a sense of hope. “I know,” he said quietly.

Chapter Text

Percy leaned back in his chair, the soft ticking of the clock blending into the quiet hum of his small office. His desk was a controlled chaos—stacks of papers detailing unregistered Portkeys, official forms half-filled out, and books open to complex enchantments. A heavy map of Britain was spread out in front of him, with little markers indicating the hidden locations of Portkeys that still needed deactivation and he loved it.

He knew everyone—Oliver, Penny, his family—meant well. They all told him he needed to rest, to sleep more, to take it easy. He could practically hear Molly’s voice in his head even now, urging him to take better care of himself. But the truth was, Percy liked to work. He always had.

He liked having things to do, tasks to complete, problems to solve. It gave him purpose, a sense of control, especially after the chaos of the last few months. What he couldn’t understand was why no one ever seemed to get that. Well, almost no one. Oliver did, in his own way. He was obsessed with Quidditch, after all—more than once, Percy had watched him train long after everyone else had gone home. But Oliver’s concern for him came from a place of love, not frustration. He just wanted Percy to take care of himself. So did Penny. But his family... that was different.

They could never quite fathom why Percy wanted to spend his time working. To them, his jobs had always been “boring.” Not like Bill’s curse-breaking, or Charlie’s dragons, or the twins’ thriving joke shop. Everyone else’s work was considered “cool,” while Percy’s was dismissed as dull or pointless. But this was what Percy loved. The intricacies of deactivating Portkeys, and the complications with cauldron bottoms—it wasn’t flashy, but it was meaningful. It was satisfying.

Percy’s eyes flickered to Hermes, his owl, who was currently perched on the back of his chair, peering at him with that mischievous gleam in his eyes. Before Percy could stop him, Hermes flapped down to the desk, scattering a small stack of papers as he landed.

“For Merlin’s sake, Hermes!” Percy said, though he was already chuckling. The owl hooted indignantly, flapping his wings again and hopping closer to Percy’s arm, as if demanding more attention.

Percy mock-glared at him. “You’re an absolute menace, you know that?”

Hermes responded with another insistent hoot, knocking over a quill with his wing.

Percy shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You do realize this is important work, right?”

Hermes hooted loudly in response, looking anything but impressed.

Percy sighed dramatically. “Fine. But you’re not getting any extra treats for this.” He reached out and stroked Hermes’ feathers gently, his mind briefly wandering.

His thoughts drifted back to the conversations he’d had with his family recently. His mum had meant well, as she always did, but it felt like no one ever took his work seriously. It was exhausting sometimes, he was tired of constantly feeling like he needed to justify his choices.

Still chuckling quietly to himself, Percy looked up, only to see movement by the doorway. His heart gave a little jolt of surprise when he realized his father was standing there, watching him with a soft, unreadable expression. Percy hadn’t heard him come in—he’d been too caught up with Hermes’ antics and his own spiraling thoughts.

Percy blinked, quickly straightening in his chair, feeling a strange mix of emotions rise up. “Hey, Dad,” he said, his voice slightly breathless from the surprise. “I didn’t see you there.”

Arthur stood outside Percy’s office for a moment before knocking gently and letting himself in. He wasn’t sure what to expect—Percy had been back at work for a while now, and though Arthur had tried not to push, he still found himself worrying. Percy had always been determined, maybe even a bit stubborn, especially when it came to his responsibilities. It was something Arthur had always respected in him, but it also made him anxious after everything Percy had been through.

When he stepped inside, Arthur paused, quietly taking in the sight in front of him. Percy was at his desk, papers spread around him, and in his hands, a small pocket watch he seemed to be fiddling with. But what struck Arthur wasn’t the work itself—it was the way Percy was laughing.

Hermes, perched stubbornly on the edge of the desk, hooted insistently, and Percy was softly scolding him, though there was no real reprimand behind it. Percy was smiling. Genuinely. The kind of smile that reached his eyes, lighting them up in a way Arthur hadn’t seen in... well, years.

Arthur felt a pang in his chest, watching his son like this. When was the last time he’d seen Percy so... light? So at ease? His mind drifted back to Percy as a boy, laughing with the same easy brightness, maybe when he was seven or so. Arthur quickly pushed the thought away—surely it hadn’t been that long, had it? He hated to think it, but the realization sank in all the same.

The truth was that Percy had carried a weight for years that none of them had seen, least of all Arthur. And looking at him now—so immersed in his work, joking around with his owl—Arthur felt the full weight of that knowledge hit him. How had I missed this? He asked himself for what felt like the hundredth time. Percy seemed so much lighter now, almost as if he’d finally been able to breathe after years of suffocating under unspoken expectations. Arthur couldn’t help but feel like a failure. As a father. As someone who should have seen what his son needed long before this.

He had always thought he and Percy were different, that Percy was more serious, more distant, and harder to reach than the rest of his children. But watching him now, Arthur realized with a sudden, almost painful clarity that Percy was more like him than any of the others. How did I not see it?

Percy was methodical, thorough, and deeply passionate about things that others might not understand. Arthur had been the same—the odd, lanky redhead who loved Muggle inventions, tinkering with things that made other people scratch their heads. We could’ve been close, Arthur thought, his chest tightening. We’re alike in so many ways, and I was too blind to notice it until now.

“Hey, Dad, I didn’t see you there,” Percy’s voice cut through Arthur’s thoughts, snapping him back to the present.

Arthur smiled warmly, holding up the basket he’d brought. “Hey, Perce. I brought you lunch—thought you might forget to take a break.”

Percy smiled softly at that and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Sit down. Thanks for the lunch.”

Arthur took the seat, setting the basket on the edge of Percy’s cluttered desk. He glanced at the papers—lists of Portkeys, diagrams, and notes on deactivation spells. It was meticulous work, and Arthur felt a swell of pride in his son. “You seem... busy,” he said, trying to sound casual, though the words carried a weight of admiration.

“Yeah,” Percy replied, pushing his glasses up his nose slightly. “There’s a lot to do. We’re still deactivating Portkeys from the war. I didn’t expect there to be so many. And most of them were never even registered.”

Arthur nodded, watching as Percy’s eyes lit up a little, his voice growing more animated, despite his attempts to keep it calm and professional. “That sounds fascinating,” Arthur said sincerely, leaning forward. “What have you been working on lately?”

Percy’s face brightened, though he tried to temper it, clearly excited about his work. He picked up the pocket watch he’d been fiddling with earlier and held it out for Arthur to see. “This one’s from a stash of Portkeys we found near an old Death Eater hideout. Some of the Portkeys they created have curses woven into them. This one... well, I think it was designed to disable anyone who tried to use it without the right incantation.”

Arthur’s heart clenched as Percy explained the intricacies of the curses in the Portkeys. His hands moved with purpose as he described how the magic worked, the layers of protection, and the dangers they still posed. And all Arthur could think about was how much Percy reminded him of himself—how Percy’s passion for this work mirrored his own fascination with Muggle devices.

“I’ve been running tests to see how to safely deactivate them without triggering the curse,” Percy continued, his voice brimming with energy, though he kept his tone measured. “It’s... tricky, figuring out how to remove the enchantments without damaging the object itself.”

Arthur watched him, his chest tight with pride and regret. He’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. And it hurt, more than Arthur could put into words, that he hadn’t seen it before. That they hadn’t shared moments like this when Percy was younger, when they could have bonded over their shared love of understanding how things worked.

“You know, you remind me a bit of myself when I was your age,” Arthur said quietly, his voice catching slightly. Percy looked at him, surprised, and Arthur gave him a small, sad smile. “I was always the odd one out, too. The one with strange hobbies that no one quite understood. And I loved it. Loved tinkering, figuring things out.” He paused, his eyes softening as he looked at Percy. “I don’t think I ever told you how much I admired that about you, Perce. How much I still do.”

Percy blinked, clearly taken aback by the words. He opened his mouth to respond, but for a moment, nothing came out. He simply stared at Arthur, his expression unreadable.

Arthur’s heart clenched again. It was too late, wasn’t it? Too late to fix all the years of distance. But he had to try. He couldn’t lose Percy again.

As Percy continued explaining the intricacies of the Portkeys, Arthur listened intently, asking questions here and there. But all the while, his mind kept drifting back to the thought that had been plaguing him since their reconciliation: We could’ve been close. But I didn’t see him. Not when it mattered most.

Chapter Text

Ron spotted Percy ahead as he stepped out of the Ministry, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. For a moment, he thought about turning the other way. It wasn’t like they hated each other, not anymore, but there was still something... unfinished between them. Something Ron wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

But before he could walk off, Percy turned, catching sight of him. His expression flickered with surprise, quickly replaced by the careful neutrality Percy seemed to wear so often these days.

Ron cleared his throat, offering a tentative wave. “Hey, Percy.”

Percy nodded, his lips twitching into a small, uncertain smile. “Ron.”

They stood there for a moment, the awkward silence stretching between them. Ron rubbed the back of his neck, debating whether to make an excuse and leave or lean into the discomfort. Before he could decide, Percy spoke.

“Heading home?”

Ron shrugged. “Yeah. You?”

Percy hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

There was another pause, and then Ron, surprising even himself, blurted, “You want to grab something to eat? There’s a decent Indian place around the corner.”

Percy blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Oh... well, alright. That sounds fine.”

The restaurant was quiet, the spicy scent of curry and freshly baked naan filling the air. They slid into a booth near the back, ordering quickly to avoid lingering on the awkwardness of deciding what to eat. Once the waiter left, silence settled over them again, heavy and uncomfortable.

Ron fiddled with the edge of his napkin, glancing at Percy, who was staring at his water glass like it held the answers to all of life’s problems.

Finally, Percy cleared his throat. “Ron... I’ve been meaning to say something. About the letter I sent to Harry.” His voice was steady but soft, and Ron could see the tension in the way his hands clasped together on the table.

Ron looked up, caught off guard. That letter had been a sore spot for years, a mark of everything that had gone wrong between Percy and the family. Hearing Percy bring it up now... well, Ron didn’t know how to feel about it.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Percy continued, his gaze fixed downward. “It wasn’t fair. I was so scared, scared of what was happening, scared of what was going to happen to all of you, and I let that fear twist into anger. I took it out on Harry, and that was wrong. He didn’t deserve it.”

Ron stared at him, the words catching in his throat. He’d spent so long being angry at Percy, letting that anger fill the space between them, that hearing him admit this, hearing the regret in his voice, made it all feel... different.

“I... yeah,” Ron started, his voice rougher than he’d meant it to be. “That letter... it hurt, Percy. It felt like... like you’d turned your back on us. On me. But now...” He let out a slow breath, the words thick in his throat. “I think I get why you wrote it.”

Percy looked up then, his eyes searching Ron’s face. “You do?”

Ron nodded, his fingers tightening around his napkin. “Yeah. I mean... I was so angry back then, but looking back... I can see it. You were scared. And I... I think I understand that now.”

Percy’s expression softened, a flicker of something like relief passing over his face. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “That means more than you know.”

They fell into silence again, but this time, it was different. Lighter, somehow. Ron leaned back in his seat, his mind spinning with memories, with things he hadn’t thought about in years.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter, “I was so angry at you, but... you were the only one who was really happy for me when I made prefect. Everyone else... well, they were surprised, I think. But you... you were proud. You made me feel like I’d done something worth noticing.”

Percy’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked almost startled. Then he smiled, a small, soft smile that made him look younger, less burdened. “Of course I was proud. I always knew you had it in you, Ron. I’m sorry I didn’t say it more often.”

Ron shrugged, though the words warmed something inside him.

Percy hesitated, then added, “And for what it’s worth... I was scared for you. For all of you. The things Dumbledore was doing, the risks he was taking with Harry. And I didn’t think, I still don't think, it was fair to drag you into it.”

Ron frowned, his mind flashing back to those chaotic years. He’d never thought about it like that before, but hearing Percy say it now... he could see it. Dumbledore had known what was coming, had known Harry’s role in it all, and had still let them face danger after danger.

“I get that now,” Ron said slowly. “Back then, though... I couldn’t see it. I thought you were just... abandoning us.” He trailed off, the words catching in his throat.

Percy leaned forward slightly, his voice soft. “Ron, I never wanted to abandon you. I wanted to protect you. All of you. I thought if I stayed away, if I kept my distance, maybe... maybe you’d be better.”

Ron stared at him, his chest tightening with a mix of guilt and understanding. “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly. “Because... I also left.”

Percy tilted his head, watching as Ron fiddled with the edge of his napkin, his words faltering. There was a weight in the silence between them, something heavy and unspoken.

“I left,” Ron said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I walked out on Harry and Hermione.”

Percy blinked, the words sinking in slowly. “You... left?” he echoed, his voice caught between surprise and confusion.

Ron nodded, his jaw tight, the tips of his ears burning red. “Yeah. I left. Not my proudest moment. But... it happened.”

Percy studied him, trying to reconcile this image of Ron. “Why?” he asked softly.

Ron let out a bitter laugh, his fingers twisting the napkin between his hands. “Because I’m a bloody idiot, that’s why. That’s what it felt like, anyway.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It wasn’t just one thing, Perce. It was... everything. I was hungry, tired, angry, angry at them, at myself, at everything. But mostly, I was angry because I felt like I didn’t matter.”

Percy frowned, his chest tightening. That sounded far too familiar.

“They always seemed... fine without me, you know?” Ron continued, his voice quieter now. “Harry’s Harry—he’s the Chosen One, the hero, the one everyone looks up to. And Hermione’s the smartest witch I know. They didn’t need me. Half the time, I felt like I was just... there, tagging along, like an extra wheel they didn’t really need but couldn’t get rid of.” He let out a shaky breath, his gaze fixed on the table. “I was jealous. Of them. Of how close they are, how... how they always seemed to understand each other in a way I never quite did. It felt like I was always on the outside looking in.”

Percy’s breath hitched. He thought of the countless times he’d felt the same way, standing on the edges of his family, watching his siblings laugh and play and never quite knowing how to fit in.

“And on top of that,” Ron added, his voice raw now, “I had all of you. If something happened, I’d lose everything. And they... they cared, they care, about us, sure, but they didn’t really get that. Not in the same way.”

Percy’s chest felt impossibly tight, a lump forming in his throat as Ron’s words settled over him. He thought of his own decision to leave, the nights spent in his Ministry flat...alone. He hadn’t realized, until now, how much Ron had carried the same weight.

“I... I am sorry you ever felt like that,” Percy said finally, his voice trembling slightly, his hands clenching into fists on the table.

Ron glanced at him, his eyes clouded with emotion. “You felt that way too, didn’t you? Like... like you didn’t belong... with us.”

Percy nodded, swallowing hard. “I did. And I thought leaving would fix it. I thought... if I wasn’t there, maybe I’d stop making things worse. Maybe you’d all be better without me.”

Ron’s face softened, “I missed you very much. That's why I was so mad.”

Percy smiled faintly, though the weight of the conversation lingered. He didn’t know how to articulate it, but something between them felt... lighter now. “I missed you too.”

Ron grinned back, a little sheepish this time, and they finished their meal in companionable silence.

Unlike with the rest of his family, where everything still felt tangled and heavy, the truth was that with Ron, the air really did feel clearer. Maybe it was because Ron understood him in a way the others didn’t, or maybe it was because Percy had always had a soft spot for his youngest brother. He could still remember little Ron as a baby, with those impossibly big blue eyes and a gaze that seemed to see the world differently. Whatever it was, Percy realized that if there was anyone he could truly breathe around, anyone he could start to find some peace with, it was Ron.

Chapter Text

Percy leaned back in the chair, holding the delicate teacup George had bought on a whim during a particularly slow week at the shop. It was oddly out of place amidst the general chaos of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, but Percy found himself appreciating it. The warm tea was a comfort, even if the conversation was not.

Fred sat across from him, a bundle of restless energy as he stirred his tea so violently Percy feared he might break the cup. The silence stretched, but Percy had learned not to fill these gaps too quickly. Fred was stewing, and Percy wasn’t about to interrupt that process.

Finally, Fred spoke, though he didn’t look up. “Do you think... Do you think it’s weird that we’re hanging out alone tonight?”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “We?”

Fred blinked, then flushed as he realized what he’d said. “I mean, Lee and me,” he corrected quickly, his voice speeding up. “We’ve hung out loads before, you know? But this time, it’s... just us. George is out with Angelina, it’s just... us. You know?”

Percy sipped his tea, watching his brother flail without an ounce of sympathy. “Sounds positively scandalous,” he deadpanned.

Fred groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Come on, Perce, I’m being serious here.”

Percy’s lips twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face. Barely. “Fred, it’s Lee. Your best friend. The person you’ve been joined at the hip with since first year. You’ve probably spent more time with him than you have with your own reflection.”

“That’s different,” Fred muttered, his ears turning red. “This is different.”

Percy put down his cup and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he gave Fred his full attention. “Fredrick Gideon Weasley,” he said, his tone mock-serious, “are you telling me you’re nervous about spending time with Lee Jordan? The same Lee Jordan who once transfigured all your quills into wriggling ferrets as a joke?”

“Yes,” Fred admitted, his voice small.

Percy blinked, surprised by the raw honesty in Fred’s tone. He wasn’t used to seeing his brother like this—unsure, vulnerable. It was almost... endearing.

“Well,” Percy said after a moment, his voice softening, “it’s not like you’ve got other friends to turn to if you mess this up.”

Fred’s head shot up, his eyes wide with panic. “What? You think I’m going to mess this up?”

Percy rolled his eyes, though his tone remained light. “No, Fred, I don’t think you’re going to mess this up. But you are catastrophizing, and I’m trying to bring you back down to earth.”

Fred stared at him, his brow furrowed. “Catastro-what?”

“Catastrophizing,” Percy repeated, smirking. “It means imagining the worst-case scenario before anything has even happened.”

Fred huffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Right. Well. You’re not helping.”

“Fred,” Percy said, his smile fading into something softer, “Lee’s your best friend. You’ve already got a solid foundation there. You’re not going to mess this up just by being yourself.”

Fred gave him a wary look. “You sure about that? Because sometimes ‘myself’ is... a lot.”

Percy chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m sure, so is Lee. He knows you and already likes your personality. And if I’m wrong—which I won’t be—you’ll still have me. And George. Though I wouldn’t recommend leaning on him for emotional support.”

Fred snorted, finally cracking a small smile. “Right. Because you’re such a pillar of emotional stability.”

“I try,” Percy said with a mock-solemn nod.

The tension between them eased, and Percy took another sip of his tea, letting the moment settle. He could see how much this meant to Fred, how tightly wound he was about the whole thing. And though Percy didn’t always understand his brother’s way of seeing the world, he knew what it was like to care deeply for someone.

After a few moments, Fred perked up slightly. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to pick your brain about something.”

“Oh?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Fred grinned, the anxiety in his eyes easing just a little. “I’ve got this idea for a new product, but I need someone who knows about transfiguration theory. You know, all that boring stuff you’re good at.”

Percy snorted but gestured for Fred to continue. “Go on, then.”

Fred launched into a passionate explanation about enchanted candies that would briefly turn the eater into an animal of their choice. Percy listened, occasionally chiming in with questions or suggestions, and the two fell into an easy rhythm of brainstorming and banter.

By the time Percy finished his tea, Fred seemed more like himself—bright, animated, and brimming with ideas.

“Well,” Percy said, standing and smoothing out his robes, “I’d say you’re in good shape for both your business and your... evening plans.”

Fred groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Don’t call it ‘evening plans.’ That makes it sound like a date.”

Percy smiled, patting Fred’s shoulder as he walked toward the door. “Just don’t mess up my TV.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred said dryly, though there was a hint of gratitude in his voice.

As Percy stepped outside, he glanced back at his brother, who was now staring into his tea with a mix of determination and nerves. Percy smiled to himself. Fred might be an unstoppable force of chaos most of the time, but when it came to Lee, he was absolutely whipped—and Percy couldn’t help but find it endearing.

Fred sat on the couch, fiddling with the remote Percy had painstakingly explained how to use before leaving. The TV was set up, and Aladdin was ready to play, but his focus wasn’t on the screen. It was on Lee, who was currently in the kitchen pouring popcorn into a massive bowl.

Fred’s heart raced, and his palms felt clammy against the fabric of his jeans. Lee didn’t look like he suspected anything, but Fred couldn’t shake the feeling that his best friend knew something was up.

“Alright,” Lee said, plopping the bowl on the coffee table and settling onto the couch. “Press play.”

Fred forced a grin, trying to relax, but he couldn’t. He was hyper-aware of the space between them on the couch, the way Lee’s knee bumped the cushion just a little too close to his.

He shifted slightly, leaning toward the armrest to create some distance. “Thanks for bringing the popcorn,” Fred said, his voice coming out higher-pitched than he intended.

Lee snorted, reaching for the remote. “You alright there, Fred? You’re acting twitchier than a Niffler in a jewelry shop.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred said quickly, grabbing a handful of popcorn he didn’t want just to avoid looking at Lee. “Fine. Totally fine.”

Lee didn’t look convinced, but he pressed play anyway, and the familiar music of the movie began to fill the room.

Fred tried to focus. He really did. But every time Lee shifted closer, whether to grab popcorn or adjust his position, Fred’s heart leapt into his throat. He wanted to lean into him, to maybe even... cuddle? But what if Lee didn’t want that? What if he laughed?

Fred swallowed hard, trying to push the thoughts away, but when Lee shifted again, moving closer this time, Fred flinched. It wasn’t intentional, but his body jerked back, and he ended up almost pressed against the armrest.

Lee paused the movie, and Fred felt his stomach drop.

“Alright,” Lee said, his tone sharp, though Fred could hear the hurt behind it. “I have to ask you something.”

Fred glanced at him, dread pooling in his stomach. “What?”

Lee leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you have a problem with me being gay?”

Fred’s jaw dropped. “What? No! Why would you think that?”

Lee raised an eyebrow, his expression a mixture of frustration and sadness. “Because, Fred, I know both you and George know and you’ve been... different ever since then. George is fine. George hasn’t changed at all. But you...” Lee hesitated, his voice breaking slightly. “You’ve changed. You don’t hang out with me alone as much anymore, and every time I touch you or even move closer, you act like I’ve got dragon pox or something.”

Fred’s heart pounded as panic set in. “No, Lee, it’s not like that. I don’t think that—”

“How exactly isn’t it like that?” Lee interrupted, his tone sharper now. “You don’t see it, Fred, but I do. And honestly, I’m used to people having a problem with it. My parents aren’t exactly thrilled, but... but I didn’t think you’d be like this. And if you are, fine. I’ll get over it. But don’t expect me to stop hanging out with George.”

“Lee,” Fred said quickly, his voice cracking as he reached out a hand. “Please. It’s not that. It’s not what you think.”

Lee stood, his movements stiff and jerky. “Then what is it, Fred?” he asked, his voice tight with emotion. “Because it sure as hell feels like you’ve got a problem with me.”

Fred scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. He couldn’t let Lee leave—not like this. “Wait!” he blurted, his hand grabbing Lee’s shoulder as gently as he could.

Lee turned, his expression guarded, and Fred’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to fix this. But before he could overthink it, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Lee’s cheek, just shy of his lips.

Lee froze, his eyes wide as Fred pulled back just enough to whisper, “Please stay. It’s not what you think... I just... I think I like you.”

Fred’s chest was heaving, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Lee could hear it. For a moment, Lee just stared at him, and Fred braced himself for whatever would come next.

Fred felt the world tilt slightly when Lee stepped back, staring at him like he’d grown a second head. His heart sank like a stone in his chest. “What the hell, mate?” Lee said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Fred’s mouth went dry, panic coursing through him as his thoughts scattered like marbles on a polished floor. “I—I’m sorry,” Fred stammered, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “I didn’t mean to... I mean, I did, but not if it made you uncomfortable. I just—I didn’t want you to leave, and I panicked, and—”

“Fred,” Lee interrupted softly, but Fred barely registered it.

“I swear I didn’t mean to make this weird!” Fred continued, pacing now, his hands running through his hair in agitation. “If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine! Completely fine! I just... I don’t want to lose you, alright? You’re my best mate, and I care about you a lot, and I’ll forget I ever said anything if that’s what it takes, I’ll—”

“Fred.”

Lee’s voice was firmer this time, and Fred felt a hand on his waist, grounding him. He stopped pacing, his breath hitching as he looked at Lee’s steady gaze.

“Calm down,” Lee said, his tone gentle but insistent. “Let’s sit down, yeah?”

Fred swallowed hard, nodding as Lee guided him back to the couch. He perched on the edge, his leg bouncing nervously as he struggled to meet Lee’s eyes.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Lee said, his voice steady, though his expression was still a mix of shock and curiosity. “But... where did this come from?”

Fred exhaled shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I... I like girls,” he started, his voice quieter now. “I always have. But you... I think I’ve been crushing on you since fourth year. I didn’t even realize it at first. It was just this weird feeling every time you smiled at me, or said something stupid, or... I don’t know. And then, seeing Percy and Oliver together... it hit me. I didn’t just like you as a friend. I liked you like that. Even if you’re a guy.”

Lee stared at him, his expression unreadable, and Fred felt the panic creep back in. “But it’s fine!” Fred blurted out, his voice speeding up again. “I know just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you’d... I mean, I don’t expect you to feel the same way or anything, and I’m sorry for kissing you, I really didn’t mean to—”

“Fred,” Lee interrupted again, his tone softer now, though there was something in his eyes that made Fred’s breath catch. “Stop apologizing. You’re fine. Just... let me talk, yeah?”

Fred nodded mutely, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of his chest.

Lee took a deep breath, leaning back slightly as he ran a hand through his braids. “You know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “you were... my gay awakening, actually.”

Fred blinked, stunned. “I—what?”

Lee let out a soft laugh, though it was tinged with nervousness. “Yeah. When we were around thirteen or fourteen, I realized I was into guys... because I was into you. But I always thought you were straight. Completely out of reach. You were my straight crush, you know? The one most of us have at some point.”

Fred’s mind reeled, his heart stumbling over itself as he processed Lee’s words. “So... you don’t have any sort of feelings for me anymore?” he asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lee tilted his head, his lips quirking into a small, wry smile. “I still find you hot,” he admitted, his voice low but honest. “That hasn’t changed. But after all these years, I convinced myself it wasn’t going anywhere.”

Fred felt his chest tighten, his voice trembling as he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Lee blinked, and Fred immediately panicked again. “I mean, if it’s weird, we can just forget about it!” Fred rushed to say, his words tumbling over each other. “I’m sorry, that was a weird request, I shouldn’t have—”

Lee cut him off by leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Fred’s lips.

Fred froze, his eyes wide as he processed the sensation. Lee’s lips were warm, plush, and perfect, and for a moment, all Fred could do was sit there in stunned silence.

When Lee pulled back, his gaze searching Fred’s face, he asked quietly, “Did you find that weird?”

Fred’s breath hitched, and he shook his head quickly. “Not really, no.”

A slow, mischievous smile spread across Lee’s face—the kind of grin Fred knew all too well, the one that meant trouble. Before Fred could overthink it, Lee moved, straddling Fred’s lap and leaning down to kiss him again, deeper this time. Fred’s mind went blank, his hands instinctively settling on Lee’s waist as their lips moved together.

Lee kissed him like he’d been waiting for this moment for years, and Fred couldn’t help but melt into it, his heart pounding as his world narrowed down to the heat and softness of Lee’s touch.

Fred was sure his brain had short-circuited. Lee’s mouth was warm and insistent against his, his hands moving under Fred’s shirt, fingers splaying across his bare skin. The sensation sent sparks shooting up Fred’s spine, and he was almost embarrassed by the way his body reacted instantly. Almost.

Lee shifted in his lap, and Fred sucked in a sharp breath. Yeah. He was hard. And judging by the slight smirk against his lips, Lee definitely knew it.

“God,” Lee murmured, pulling back just enough to catch Fred’s dazed expression. His fingers skimmed over Fred’s chest, hot and teasing. “I always had good taste. You’re hot as hell.”

Fred blinked, his face blazing red. “Wha—shut up.”

Lee grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he tugged Fred’s shirt up and over his head in one smooth motion. “Why? Am I wrong?”

Fred’s heart pounded as he tried to come up with a witty retort, but his brain was too busy focusing on the way Lee’s hands felt against his skin. “It’s just... a bit unfair, isn’t it?” Fred managed to say, his voice raspier than he intended. “I’m the only one undressed here.”

Lee arched an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned back slightly, his hands trailing down Fred’s sides before resting on his hips. “You make a good point.”

Fred watched, mesmerized, as Lee reached for the hem of his own shirt, tugging it off and tossing it to the floor. His chest was smooth and lean, and it took everything in him not to stare outright.

“Better?” Lee asked, a teasing lilt in his voice as he leaned back in, his lips brushing against Fred’s neck.

“Getting there,” Fred muttered, his hands moving on instinct to grip Lee’s waist. His fingers brushed against the curve of Lee’s backside, and before he could stop himself, he gave it a light squeeze.

Lee froze for a split second before pulling back with an incredulous laugh. “Merlin, Fred. Did you just grab my arse?”

Fred, blushing furiously, shrugged. “Well, yeah. I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

Lee stared at him, his jaw dropping slightly before he broke into a wide grin. “You’ve been watching your mate’s arse? That’s gay, Fred.”

Fred laughed despite himself, his cheeks burning hotter than ever. “Shut up.”

Lee chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back in, his lips brushing against Fred’s ear.

Fred’s laugh was disturbed by the kiss, his heart pounding as he let himself get lost in the moment.

Chapter Text

Bill hadn’t expected much from the day. A casual stop at Florean Fortescue’s with Charlie had seemed like a simple way to cool down and take a break from the midday heat. He hadn’t anticipated running into Penelope and Audrey, seated in a quiet corner of the shop.

“Hey, isn’t that Percy’s lot?” Charlie asked, nudging him with an elbow and grinning.

Bill hesitated. He wasn’t sure if approaching them was the best idea, but Charlie was already making his way over, his confidence unshaken. With a resigned sigh, Bill followed, offering a tentative smile.

Audrey noticed them first, her face lighting up in recognition. “Bill! Charlie! What a surprise!”

Penelope turned as well, her expression polite but guarded. “Hi,” she said curtly.

“Mind if we join you?” Charlie asked, pulling out a chair as if the question were rhetorical.

Audrey smiled, gesturing for them to sit. “Of course not. Percy might come over in a little bit, and Oliver, if he finishes training early.”

Penelope didn’t object outright, but her silence was pointed. Bill slid into the chair across from her, his posture a little stiff.

“How’s Percy doing? I haven’t talked with him in a few days,” Charlie asked, leaning back with his usual ease.

Audrey grinned. “He’s good. Back to work, naturally. You know how he is. We also saw a movie yesterday evening. It was fun.”

Bill nodded, guilt pooling in his chest. Work had always been Percy’s escape, his way of coping. Bill could see that now, even if he hadn’t before.

“Oh, you meet up every day?” Charlie pressed. “You’re very close with him, yeah?”

Audrey nodded eagerly. “Absolutely. Percy’s brilliant. So glad he feels better with his headaches because we’ve planned to go to a concert next week, and he was so excited. It would suck to miss it.”

He still had headaches? Percy hadn’t mentioned anything. Bill frowned, a knot forming in his stomach. Penelope’s smile was tight, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, he’s great,” she said, her tone clipped.

An awkward silence settled over the table, thick and uncomfortable. Charlie, ever the one to defuse tension, decided to fill it with his usual charm.

“You don’t like us very much, do you?” he teased, grinning at Penelope.

Audrey let out a light laugh, but Penelope didn’t join in. Instead, her expression hardened, and her eyes locked onto Charlie’s.

“That obvious?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Charlie’s grin faltered slightly. “Well,” he said, trying to keep the mood light, “the hospital and the lunch after Percy got released were also hints, not gonna lie. To be fair, you’d think Percy was your actual brother, the way you look out for him.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Bill knew they were a mistake. It wasn’t as if he didn’t share Charlie’s unease—he too was bothered by how close Percy seemed to Penelope compared to his own family. But Penelope’s reaction was instant and icy. Her posture stiffened, and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“He may as well be,” she said firmly, her voice starting to tremble ever so slightly.

Bill shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Look, Penelope, we’re trying,” he said, his voice calm but earnest. “We know we’ve made mistakes with Percy, and we’re working on making things right.”

Penelope’s eyes flashed, and the tremor in her voice grew as she spoke. “Maybe Percy f-forgave you,” she said, her words stilted. “I-it’s not m-my place to accept your apology or n-not. But, yeah, I d-don’t like you. M-maybe he’s willing to... to p-put things behind him, b-but I can’t forget the way you t-treated him.”

Bill felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Penelope leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady despite the obvious effort it was taking her to speak.

“You d-don’t understand what you d-did to him,” she said, her voice rising slightly as her stutter became more pronounced. “P-Percy is my best friend. H-he can be infuriating, but he’s also the kindest, most l-loyal person I know. H-he was always there for me.”

Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop. “When my Margaret was in t-the h-hospital, Percy was there. He g-gave blood for her, stayed with her so I could sleep. H-he didn’t even hesitate.”

Bill blinked, both shocked and confused. The weight of her words pressed heavily on him. He had no idea Percy had done that.

“And when he was l-living with us after your fight,” Penelope continued, her stutter worsening with every word, “he was... d-devastated. He never s-said it, but you could s-see it. He loved you. All of you. And you—” Her voice broke, and she took a shaky breath before continuing.

“You t-treated him like he didn’t m-matter,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “He d-deserves better than that.”

Bill wanted to respond, but the words caught in his throat. Penelope’s hands shook as she gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white.

“I’m not s-saying Percy is perfect,” she said, her voice quieter but no less intense. “H-he’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met and a p-pain in the ass. But he’s the b-best brother you could ask for. And if you can’t see that, then you don’t d-deserve him.”

Her voice broke on the last word as she stood abruptly, grabbing her bag. Audrey looked torn, glancing between her and the brothers.

“Penny...” Audrey started, but Penelope shook her head.

Her voice cracked again as she muttered, “I n-need some air,” barely audible as she turned and walked out of the shop.

Bill, Audrey, and Charlie sat in stunned silence, the tension thick enough to choke on. Penelope’s words echoed in Bill’s mind, each one landing like a blow to the chest. He couldn’t respond. All he could think about was how right Penelope had been—and how much work he had ahead of him to fix things.

Charlie felt like an absolute idiot. Sitting in the wake of Penelope’s outburst, he could still feel the weight of her words pressing down on him. He hadn’t intended to upset her, let alone provoke such raw emotions, but he had. The realization left a sour taste in his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Audrey said softly, her tone apologetic but firm. “Percy is very close with her. Honestly, I’ve only ever seen Penny this upset when it’s about her family or Percy.”

“I didn’t mean to—” Charlie started, only to cut himself off. It didn’t matter what he meant to do; the damage was done.

“I’m going to apologize,” he said instead, standing abruptly.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Bill asked, frowning.

Audrey seemed to agree, shaking her head slightly. “She might need some space, Charlie. Penny’s not the type to stay upset for long, but if you push her now...”

Charlie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just feel like crap. I need to say something. I don’t want her to think I don’t care about Percy or that I don’t appreciate how much she’s been there for him.”

With that, he left the table, his boots crunching against the cobblestones as he stepped out into the afternoon sun. It took a few minutes of searching, but he finally spotted Penelope standing on a secluded path next to the shop. She was pacing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her expression tense.

“Hey,” Charlie said awkwardly, stepping closer.

She froze mid-step, her eyes narrowing slightly as she turned to look at him. “W-what do you w-want?” Her stutter was still heavy, her voice sharp but clearly trying to maintain composure.

Charlie shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling suddenly like he was back in school, trying to apologize to someone after a particularly bad prank. “I didn’t want to upset you,” he said honestly. “I’m... glad Percy has someone like you in his life. He’s lucky to have you.”

Penelope’s expression softened just a fraction, but she didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she looked away, her arms tightening around herself.

“For what it’s worth,” Charlie continued, “I’m sorry. For all of it. For what we did to Percy and... for upsetting you now. You’re right to be angry.”

Her lips quivered, and she exhaled sharply. “It’s n-not about me,” she muttered, her stutter more pronounced now.

Charlie nodded, unsure what else to say. The silence between them stretched, but then Penelope spoke again, her voice trembling but gaining strength.

“D-during the battle,” she began, her words halting, “I w-was terrified. When I heard Percy was hurt, I t-thought...” She broke off, swallowing hard before continuing. “I thought he w-was going to die. And I couldn’t even see him b-because of that stupid family-only rule. It w-was torture, Oliver and I w-waited for news like idiots.”

Charlie’s chest tightened at the raw emotion in her voice.

“I was so angry at him,” Penelope admitted, her voice cracking. “For being so reckless, for putting himself in danger like that. But at the same time... I was just g-glad he was alive. Because without him...” She paused, blinking rapidly as her breath hitched. “Without him, Audrey, my f-family and I w-wouldn’t even be here.”

“D-during the war, Percy did so many reckless things. And every time, I was so scared for him. I w-wanted to yell at him to stop, to be safe, but I couldn’t. Because every time he put himself at risk, he saved lives. He saved people like my family.”

She took a deep breath, her stuttering easing further as she found her rhythm. “I couldn’t stay mad at him. Not when he was doing everything he could. But it doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”

There was a moment of silence before Charlie spoke again. “You’ve been friends since your first year, haven’t you?”

Penelope’s lips twitched into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Since the train to Hogwarts. He was my first friend, my best friend. I had a terrible stutter back then—worse than it is now—and no one wanted to be friends with the girl who couldn’t get through a sentence without tripping over her words. But Percy... he didn’t care. He asked me a thousand questions that first day, and he didn’t mind waiting for me to answer.”

Charlie felt a pang in his chest at her words. He could picture it—young Percy, awkward but kind, determined to make a connection.

“He even helped me with my stutter,” Penelope said, her voice softening as she recalled the memory. “He’d sit with me and practice spells that made me slow down and breathe. He was patient, even when I wasn’t.”

Charlie smiled faintly. “Sounds like Percy,” he said.

Penelope nodded, her smile fading slightly. “He’s the best person I know,” she said quietly. “That’s why it was so hard seeing him in the hospital. He didn’t deserve to be there, hurt like that. And not being able to see him, to make sure he was okay...”

Charlie hesitated before asking, “Margaret... who is she?”

Penelope blinked, her expression shifting. “My sister. She’s 9 now,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “The summer before seventh year, my parents and Margaret were in a car accident. A drunk driver hit them, and she... she got the worst of it. The doctors didn’t think she’d make it at first.”

Charlie’s heart sank. “Merlin,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

Penelope nodded, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know what to do. My grandparents live in Ireland and couldn’t get there right away, and I was terrified. I sent Percy a message, and he showed up within an hour. Took the Knight Bus, brought food, stayed with me at the hospital.”

Her voice grew steadier as she continued. “When the doctors said they needed blood, Percy didn’t even hesitate. He went to see if he was compatible and gave blood right away. Even though I am pretty sure he was not exactly sure how muggle blood donation works. He stayed with me until my grandparents arrived, and even then, he checked in constantly.”

Charlie felt a lump form in his throat. “I didn’t know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I’m so glad she’s okay now.”

“She is,” Penelope said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “It took months of recovery, but she’s doing great now.”

Charlie was curious, though. “I’m shocked Mum and Dad didn’t know about this. Percy wasn’t at home for quite some time, from what I can tell—they should have noticed he wasn’t there.”

Penelope let out a soft laugh, her stutter now barely noticeable. “Percy mastered the art of sneaking out when we were thirteen,” she said, shaking her head.

“What?” Charlie laughed, the image of his meticulous brother sneaking around like a rebellious teenager utterly absurd. “I can’t believe it,” he said, grinning. “You’re telling me Percy Weasley—rule-abiding, by-the-book Percy—was sneaking out?”

Penelope laughed again, the tension between them easing. “Oh, he was sneaky, all right. You’d be surprised.”

Charlie shook his head, still smiling. “I’m glad he had you,” he said sincerely. “And I’m glad you had him.”

Penelope nodded, her smile softening. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

As they stood there, the weight of the conversation lingered, but the air between them felt lighter, more understanding. Charlie couldn’t fix the past, but he was determined to do better—for Percy and for the people who cared about him.