What I Missed.

A/N: Just a quick note about the time frame of this story; Bill would have been out of Hogwarts a year (in Egypt), Charlie is about to go into seventh year, Percy is about to go into fourth, Fred and George are about to go into second, Ron would be about 10 years old, and Ginny 9. I hope I've got the ages right in proportion. I hope you like it, please leave a review to let me know what you think; I've never really written anything like this before. Sorry, I know nothing about chickens, but it just sort of went that way.

Warning: Slashy themes (no Weasleycest).

Bill first finds out when he discovers the magazines in Charlie's room, which they are currently sharing, on his first visit home from Egypt in the summer. He agonises over it all day. He stares at the magazines for a few minutes, at the moving front covers showing wizards in various states of dress, before shoving them back into a box at the back of the wardrobe. Not a particularly imaginative place to hide them by Charlie's standards, but he'd obviously thought that no one would go rooting through his wardrobe. Bill wished he hadn't; he'd only needed to borrow a pair of socks.

Anyway, Bill thinks to himself about an hour later, his mind still doing in circles on the subject, the magazines could be for a friend. Bill snorts at himself derisively, causing his mother and the others who have made it down for breakfast so far to give him an odd look, but they don't ask him what he's thinking about. Bill's glad, he's sure if they did he wouldn't be able to think of a plausible story fast enough, thrown as he is by this turn of events. That's the twin's skill really, they've only been at Hogwarts a year but the stories he's heard them spin McGonagall at a moments notice are unbelievable.

Charlie glances at him for only a second before returning to his bacon, which he finishes in a final bite. He then quickly washes up his plate and heads outside; it looks to Bill like he might be casually sneaking out to have a ride on his broomstick. Through the window it looks to be a beautifully warm, sunny day, and Bill wants to join him but doesn't think he can keep that look off of his face. He wants to run up to his brother and demand to know about the magazines, but that would look too accusing, and Bill doesn't want to be accusing, he wants to be supportive. He wants to be the one Charlie confides in.

More than anything he's hurt by the fact that his closest brother hadn't told him already. Sure, he'd been in Egypt for the last year, but Charlie could easily have written to him. Even if he wanted to talk face to face, the international floo took nearly no time at all, and Bill would always be there for his family; he thought Charlie knew that.

Did Charlie think that Bill would hate him for it? Or shun him? The idea that his brother could think that of him makes Bill feel a little ill. All those times they'd sat talking about girls...had Charlie been lying? Had he been going out with friends to help keep up the pretence and fortify the lie? Or worse, had he been lying to himself and going out with girls regardless, because of what he thought people would think of him? That didn't sound like Charlie, but...

Bill's more inclined to believe the latter, he hates the thought that his brother would confide in his friends before him about a matter like this. Although they had drifted apart slightly over the last year compared to when they were at Hogwarts together they were still very close, and kept in touch regularly via owl, even though Bill hadn't visited.

"Charlie," Their mother admonishes, and he stops in the doorway with a half-groan, "You've got chores to do. You and Bill need to clean out the chickens today."

Bill almost groans out loud too, at two things. One, he'll have to spend the next two hours or so pretending to Charlie that nothing's wrong while having an endless internal debate with himself about whether he should bring up the matter or give Charlie the chance to address it himself. Two, the Hen House is huge, magically expanded on the inside by their father (he's not sure if their mother knows), so they can keep more chickens; it takes ages to clean, even with magic.

Charlie sends him a look, missed by their mother who has begun summoning washing down the stairs from each of their rooms, and Bill tries his best to send the same expression back but it doesn't quite feel right.

"I swear Mum waits until I'm about to do something before she springs the chores on us," Charlie says with a laugh as the two walk across the yard, but his tone is fond, "You don't even live here anymore, you shouldn't have to do it." Charlie pauses as realisation dawns on his face, "We can both use magic at home now, it won't take as long."

Bill just grins back, not trusting himself to speak in case something stupid comes out, along the lines of, 'I saw what was in your wardrobe' or, 'Were those your magazines?' because really he still can't believe it. Only an hour ago he found them and his brain won't rest with his rationalisation that it's none of his business. That Charlie would have told him if he'd wanted it to be.

His mind is still reeling. The thought had never, even for a fraction of a second, crossed his mind before now. He didn't see Charlie as the type; he was into dragons, and as stereotypical as that was...

Bill was still thinking that Charlie would have told him, although this thought is shrinking and being replaced by another, rather nasty one, 'Do you know him at all anymore?'

They reach and duck into the large-on-the-outside-even-larger-on-the-inside Hen House and give a synchronised groan. Around ten chickens are still inside, pecking at old seed on the ground.

It takes them about twenty minutes to chase them all out, up and down ramps onto different levels, squawking away from hands trying to grab them. Finally they're left with just one, which decides it would much rather stay in the corners than go out of the door. Cornering it together, Bill makes a final grab for it and then drops it straight out of the door. With an affronted squawk it struts away from the Hen House, Charlie gives a triumphant grin.

In that twenty minutes there had barely been a chance to talk, other than brief attempts at strategising against the chickens, who surely had a secret plan of their own. Now, Bill's stomach churns at the thought of having to make casual conversation when this is eating away at him inside.

A voice in his head tells him he's being stupid, he can talk to his brother. If this was going to bother him he either needed to spit it out or forget about it, if he couldn't do either of those then what kind of big brother was he?

"I'll take the top levels," Bill offers as he is the taller of the two, Charlie nods his agreement and they quickly set to work.

Even using their wands, clearing the debris that has built up over the week takes a while. Everything breaks apart when levitated, and using a sticking charm to clump the straw together sometimes works and sometimes doesn't, so getting it into the wheelbarrow is time consuming, if not as backbreaking as using a shovel.

It's silent for a few moments before Charlie began to speak, looking unaccountably nervous, "I was thinking...after next year...I thought I should tell you first..."

Bill's insides clench uncomfortably, was he going to tell him? Strange that it would be on the same day he found out for himself...Although what he'd just said didn't tally up...

Charlie takes a deep breath before he spoke, "There's a dragon reserve in Romania, they take on students straight from school and train them while they work. If you pass you get a permanent job at the end of it."

He looks up at Bill expectantly, meeting his eye. Bill's earlier thoughts are temporarily abandoned, "Romania?"

"You went to Egypt," Charlie replies defensively, but continues quickly, "The training takes three years, but you've got to prove you're competent to progress...I haven't applied yet, but..."

Bill stares for a few moments, Charlie's face is defiant, his expression saying, 'I'm-going-to-do-this-no-matter-what-you-say-but-if-you-could-approve-that-would-make-life-so-much-easier'.

"Definitely dragons? Not Quidditch?" Bill questions finally.

"Yeah, I think so."

There's a small pause, and then Bill says, "That sounds great," with his first genuine smile that morning, moving forward to give his brother a quick hug. Then he moves back and begins to laugh, "Good luck telling Mum."

"Don't!" Charlie protests weakly, but it's clear on his face that he's relieved by Bill's reaction.

So why, Bill thinks, earlier worries returning to the forefront of his mind, hasn't he spoken to him about that.

They fall easily into normal conversation, mostly talking about Charlie's year at school and Bill reminiscing on how much he misses the castle that had been his second home for seven years of his life. They've already talked about Bill's job as a Cursebreaker in the first few days he's been staying and Bill really just wants to forget it for now and relax for his fortnight holiday. Bill thinks he's doing quite a good job of acting normal, until when they've almost finished and are just laying down some straw and feed, Charlie turns to him with a frown.

"You're very quiet, you know?" He says matter-of-factly.

"Am I?" Bill feigns surprise, but his younger brother isn't convinced.

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing," Bill realises this won't cut it and improvises, may be he's better at it than he thinks because afterwards Charlie drops the subject, "It's just strange to be home but not think of it as home anymore."

The next day is just as sunny, but Bill can't go out and enjoy it. He has been charged with babysitting.

Charlie has left early in the morning for Quidditch practice and won't be back for at least another two hours. He plays for a local league during the summer and their final match is next week. Molly and Arthur say they need to go to Diagon Alley to pick up some things, most likely food and cleaning potions.

'Just a few hours,' they'd insisted on their way out of the door ten minutes ago, leaving him stuck at the house with his younger siblings, two of which are currently fighting to get the seat next to him on the sofa.

"Ron!" Ginny moans, pulling at his leg, "Let me sit down!"

Ron just sticks his tongue out at her and Bill rolls his eyes.

"Well," Bill starts, knowing that he'll have do something to keep them entertained, preferably inside because Fred and George have a tendency to end up injured when they play outside, although that's probably unavoidable anyway.

"Let's play Quidditch!" Fred interrupts before he can think of something to say, "Come on Bill, me and George need to practice."

"We want to sign up for the Gryffindor team next year," George tells him rather seriously, and Bill chuckles; he'll have to let them while their parents are out.

"Ok, ok!" Bill agrees with a grin, "Let's go."

Fred, George, Ron and Ginny jump up as Bill fetches the keys for the broom shed from on top of the cupboard, a place none of the younger siblings can reach yet, and hands them to George, only briefly pausing to consider if this is wise. They run straight out of the door and Bill goes to follow them before he catches sight of Percy, curled up on an arm chair with his head in a book, 'A History of Magic'.

"Don't you want to play?" Bill asks Percy. Truth be told he's never really understood Percy, he seems so different to the rest of the family, it's almost worrying.

"I don't play Quidditch," Percy says stiffly, resting the book on his lap for a moment and peering through his glasses.

"It's just a bit of fun Perce," Bill tries encouragingly; "I know you can fly."

Percy just sighs and returns to his book.

Bill goes to head for the door, well aware that leaving his younger siblings unsupervised with brooms is not a good idea, but he pauses, turning to stare at Percy for a moment and wondering. He's been at Hogwarts with Charlie for the last year, may be he's noticed something; a change?

After a moment Percy notices he's staring and sighs, "I might come out and watch a bit later," He offers, sounding unconvinced.

Bill nods and then finds himself opening his mouth to speak, "Have you noticed anything...different about Charlie recently?"

Percy frowns up at him, "No? Why is something wrong?" He looks so concerned, Bill has a half mind to confide in him. No, he should talk to Charlie, if he hasn't told anyone then he shouldn't be the one to reveal the secret. He'll talk to him when he gets home.

"No...it's nothing." Bill expects Percy to push it, but he just turns back to his book once more.

When Charlie gets home he finds his siblings in the clearing in the orchard playing a small, much less violent than the practice game he's just had, game of Quidditch. To his surprise, even Percy is on a broom, so it's three a side, although he seems to just be hovering off to the side uncertainly. Bill, Ginny and Percy against Fred, George and Ron; just playing with the quaffle, trying to get it through hoops levitated by Bill.

Because he's still holding his broom from practice, he quickly mounts and soars up, stealing the quaffle from Bill and scoring for Fred, George and Ron, who swoop in on either side to give him high fives. He may be a seeker but he can still play the other positions; some practice their team Captain had made them do once to improve other skills in flying, plus he took Bill by surprise.

"Cheating," Ginny calls, but she laughs and they all fly back down to the ground, Percy a little slower than the rest.

"I'm going inside," Percy announces, looking relieved that he has an excuse to stop, stowing the Cleansweep in the Broom Shed before heading into the house.

Ginny grins, "Charlie you can be on our team."

"That's not fair, you've got Bill too," Ron argues, "He's bigger than us."

Bill interrupts before this can go any further, wanting nothing more than to sit down, he'd forgotten how tiring Quidditch with his siblings could be, "You guys play, I'm going inside."

He can hear arguing behind for which team Charlie should join as he walks back to the house.

"There's only me now," Ginny tells Fred and George.

"Ah, but Ginny you're such a fantastic player, it would take all four of us to even get near beating you," George attempts to charm, and Bill doubts his little sister will buy that.

"Anyway, you can have Ron," Fred puts in helpfully.

Bill chuckles as he reaches the kitchen and sets about making himself some tea, his mind wanders back to Charlie and what he found. Think of the devil, Charlie comes in the door.

"They're gonna play on their own, I'm exhausted from practice."

"Is it wise to leave them out there on their own?" Bill questions, peering out through the window.

Charlie just shrugs, "They'll be fine," And heads off to get a shower. Bill can't help but be relieved, he wants to practice the conversation he's going to have with Charlie at least five times in his head before he starts saying it out loud. Make that ten times...or one hundred.

As it turns out, it wasn't fine. Fred and George decided to abandon the brooms in favour of attempting to climb the trees. George had managed to fall and Ron had followed and gotten stuck, so Charlie, his hair still wet, had to fly up and get him while Bill sorted the cuts on George's knees and elbows.

The minute he's finished George thanks Bill and runs off with his twin while Ron has gone up to his room in a sulk. Percy still sits with his head in a book as Ginny begins trying to distract him.

Bill and Charlie take up seats on the porch, and Charlie chats normally before he stops abruptly in the middle of describing a fantastic save made by the new keeper in the Gryffindor team as of last year; Oliver Wood.

It takes Bill a second to realise his brother has stopped talking, it's not that he was bored by what his brother was saying, usually he loves talking about Quidditch, but he's distracted. When he does notice he looks over to see Charlie giving him an odd look.

"You're not listening to me are you?" Bill's lucky that Charlie seems more amused than annoyed.

"I...I am, of course I am," Bill hurries to defend himself, but Charlie's expression doesn't change.

"What's wrong?" Charlie asks earnestly.

"Nothing," Bill insists.

"There's obviously something wrong, you've been acting weird since yesterday."

Observant git, Bill thinks, he was sure he was doing a great job of appearing normal on the outside; may be forgetting to put washing powder in the washing machine had given away the fact that he was distracted.

"Bill?" Bill realises he hasn't spoken for a length of time that would only lead Charlie to, correctly, believe that he is thinking about his answer, "Just speak to me, you can tell me anything."

This hits Bill hard and he can't help but snap back, "You don't tell me anything any more."

Charlie's jaw drops but he recovers and quickly stops gawping, immediately on the defensive, "What haven't I told you?"

About to reveal what he knows, Bill goes to speak but stops himself, instead replying with a tight, lame sounding, "I don't know, you haven't told me."

"There's obviously something more to it than that." Charlie scans his brother's face and Bill wonders if his brother knows what he's alluding too and is just very good at hiding it, or if it just hasn't crossed his mind.

Finally, he decides, without any practice conversations in his head; because if there had been this would not have been how it started, to just come out with it. Well, he tries...

"I...er...I found some, er...stuff...magazines, in your room."

Charlie freezes and the temperature in the warm day seems to dramatically drop, "What were you doing going through my stuff?" His voice is suddenly icy, and Bill wishes he could start this conversation again.

"I was just looking for some socks, and I saw the box...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." Bill trails off at the cold look on his brother's face, and the instinctive need to change the subject takes hold, "Anyway, you should have told me."

"Told you what?" Bill blinks. Really? He was still going to pretend. Oh...no. Now Charlie's face holds a challenge, "What exactly should I have told you?"

He wants Bill to say it out loud. Bill thinks he can do that, but his voice automatically reduces in volume, "That you're, well...gay."

There's a long silence in which Charlie doesn't break eye contact, and then he looks away, mumbling, "Well, now you know."

"Hey," Bill gets up quickly, perching beside Charlie on the coffee table between their chairs, "It's not a bad thing."

"I know," Charlie groans, still not looking at him, "I just...I dunno, I just wanted to tell everyone in my own time."

"Well, I'm sorry about that," Bill tells him with a chuckle, but Charlie still won't look at him and his face is still downcast. Bill tries to sling a comforting arm around his shoulder, but is shoved off with force.

"You've been acting strangely around me since you found out," Charlie mumbles, more to himself than to Bill.

Shaking his head, Bill answers, "I'm sorry about that too. It's not what you think though. It just took me a little time to get my head around, that's all," There was no response to that, "To be honest I was more annoyed that you didn't tell me."

Charlie finally looks up in surprise, "You've been away," He says by way of explanation.

"An owl," Bill suggests, cutting off his brother's next protest, "Saying that you wanted to talk about something. I have had days off and it doesn't take that long to get here by Floo."

"I didn't want to bother you."

"You're my little brother, you're supposed to bother me," Bill chuckles and Charlie joins in, allowing Bill to give him a quick hug but cringing at the word 'little'.

"Sorry, I guess."

"So," Bill begins casually, extremely curious, "When did you realise?"

Charlie looks down again, "During fifth year I think."

"So it wasn't while I was away," Bill raises his eyebrows.

Charlie finally found the courage to look up into Bill's eyes, he wasn't in Gryffindor for nothing, "I didn't know how to tell you...how to bring it up. Nobody really knew anyway, other than my mate Nick...I thought you might judge me, or act differently around me..."

Bill scowls, "Really? Judge you? It's nice to know what you think of me."

"No, it's not like that...I didn't think you would on purpose, but subconsciously. Plus we wouldn't talk about girls anymore..."

"Those talks must have been mostly lies anyway," Bill exclaims.

"I did go out with those girls, I always said none of them were really serious..."

"Charlie," Bill smiles fondly at him before pulling him into another hug, "You idiot."

"Thanks," Mutters Charlie sarcastically as they break apart, but his tone is grateful.

Suddenly Bill's expression turns mischievous, "So, what guys have you dated?"

Charlie groans, "I am not having this conversation with you. We are not going to talk about boys."

"I can talk about boys," Bill sounds slightly insulted, "You've had to sit through talking about girls, it's only fair."

Charlie groans again shaking his head, "There hasn't been anything long term or serious really. It's difficult when not many people are open about it." Charlie pauses before he takes the plunge, "There was Ted Blagg."

"He's gay?" Bill asks in surprise.

"I think so," Charlie replies with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "And Neil Millwood."

Bill blanches, "Wait, the Ravenclaw? He was in my year!"

Charlie shrugs, his ears flushing red.

"Anyone else?" Bill asks with a grin.

"Jamie Hougen, at a Christmas party, but that was just firewhiskey, I think he regretted it afterwards," Charlie replies truthfully, "That's it really, as I say nobody's particularly open about it."

"Ah," Bill's mischievous look is back and Charlie looks genuinely worried, "How about someone you fancy. Doesn't matter if they're gay, straight or planning to join a Muggle convent."

Charlie smirks at this, but Bill notices his ears burning red.

"It's none of your business," Charlie tells him with a laugh.

Fine, thinks Bill, letting it drop for now, he will get the truth out of him before he has to go back to Egypt.