A long pause stretched between the brothers, the agonized grief almost palpable. It was George who first broke the silence, regret filling him for his thoughtless words that provoked his brother's outburst. He kneeled beside his collapsed brother, soothingly rubbing the sobbing shoulders.

"Oh g-d, Percy. Percy I am so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything I've done, for everything I didn't do. " George shifted positions so that he was directly in front of Percy and grabbed his chin, forcing his brother to look him in the eye. "Percy, I love you, even though I have never shown it, even though I hurt you so badly. But you have to believe me, I gain no joy from your grief. I would never rejoice in the death of a child, let alone my niece, but more than that, I do not gain satisfaction or amusement from your tears, from your pain." Percy released a breath and leaned his body against his former bully. However, it was through this speech that Fred drew some conclusions about his brother's illness and his former antics. George soon joined his twin in this epiphany.

"Those old scars, are they from—"

"our pranks?" Percy looked into their eyes, seeing the genuine fear and regret for their childish antics.

"Look, I won't deny that your pranks hurt and have caused a few of the scars. But I understand, you were young and high-spirited, and wanted to make the world a joke. And I was your uptight older brother, who struggled to find my way through everyday life, to find the balance of what would and would not hurt, what I could or could not feel. You couldn't have known what I was going through; I can't have expected you to." Twins weren't sure that that quite excused their behavior, but they took what they could from their brother's forgiveness.

Madame Pompfry stood up with authority, realizing the impact that these confessions were having on her patient. Demanding that Percy be allowed to rest as he was far from out of the woods, the nurse shooed the family and the order members out of her makeshift infirmary. The former occupants reassembled in one of the parlor rooms, trying to digest the information they had just bitterly swallowed. The room stayed silent for a full ten minutes, the unfamiliar hum echoed in the previously boisterous headquarters. Molly sat heavily upon one of the moth eaten armchairs, shaking in her grief. Her distraught husband carefully approached her, desperate to comfort his wife. The redheaded man reached a loving arm across her shaking shoulders and Molly swung around, a slap echoing in the silent room. Her husband wrapped his arms around her, desperate to calm her hysterics. Molly laid her forehead against his chest and whispered in a deceptively quiet voice, tinged with mounting tears,

"You and your damn, stubborn pride. You couldn't let him talk, I begged you not to kick him out, I begged you to go after him, to bridge the gap that had formed these years. But you didn't. And now I will never meet my first grandbaby and my little boy, my quiet, caring, respectful little boy, will be permanently scarred. His smile will never fully reach his eyes and no matter how much time and distance comes between today and his next, he will always be haunted by loss and pain." With those damning words she leaned her weary body against her husband's, too worn out to add to the tears that had already traced their path down her plump face.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Arthur whispered these words, a broken record stuck in his agonized self-condemnation. Molly looked upon her husband with bloodshot eyes,

"No I'm sorry. It's just as much my fault as yours. I'm his mother! I didn't know anything was wrong, I could have hunted him down after he left, forced him to come back home, to explain himself. Let him know that mummy never stopped loving him." Bill looked upon his parents with mixed emotions. Anger at their negligence, sympathy for their pain, and fear. Fear for his brother, fear for his family, just constant fear. So when he heard his parents focusing on themselves and their guilt and their pain, the tumultuous influx of emotions let him voice the worry that had been nagging at the back of his head without softening his concern.

"There is plenty of blame to go around, but we can't focus on that right now! Did you not here what Madame Pompfry said? Emotional pain causes physical pain for Percy. He managed to survive this long for reasons we don't really understand, but how much more can he stand? I've never seen someone hurting so deeply, I can't even imagine…."

Ron finally spoke up, being one of the few Weasleys, besides Ginny and Charlie, to not voice any opinions in a while. But when he finally spoke, his voice was so soft and broken, that Harry felt his heart break for his often rash, macho, but endlessly loyal best friend.

"Is Percy going to die?"

Molly glanced at her youngest son, realizing the scary impact this was having on her young children. She wanted to comfort them, yet found she couldn't lie to them, knowing that because of the war, they were far too mature to be fooled by pretty lies.

"Baby, we are going to do everything we can to make sure that Percy lives. What you – what we all – have to understand is that this pain runs deep. There is no quick cure; no wizard has yet managed to find a spell or potion to mend a broken heart. But one wizard did give us one thing – Percy gave us hope. He is so strong, that he managed to last this long is a testament to his will, his drive, and the essence of his soul. If he could make it this far by himself, just image what he can do with the love and support of one of the largest families in the Wizarding world behind him."

And one of Percy's jagged, red scars faded into a tiny white line.