One week after the war

George Weasley sat at the kitchen table, glaring at Percy with all his might. George hadn't yet allowed himself to cry, and tensions were building in the Burrow. Percy had the nerve to move back into his old bedroom, after he had abandoned them all. He hadn't truly killed Fred, George knew, but he desperately needed someone to place the blame on. Since Percy had been standing next to Fred when the explosion hit, Percy was the target of all George's anger.

When they had all come home, George didn't talk to anyone. He didn't cry, didn't show any sign of emotion. It was as if George wasn't there. He floated from room to room, refusing to sleep in his own room without Fred.

Three days after the death of his twin, George's lack of emotion turned into an excess of rage. He stormed about the house, slamming doors and punching all the mirrors until they had cracks or his knuckles began to bleed. He would then yelp, rub his knuckles, and clomp out the door to throw some gnomes.

Percy really had tried to stay out of the way, and he had been successful so far, up until his mother insisted that he and George needed to talk it out. Molly directed the boys into the kitchen and shuffled them into the chairs, taking the one at the head of the table for herself. "Now," she began in the hoarse voice, one that she had had since the day of Fred's death. "Who wants to talk first?"

Percy opened his mouth, then shut it again, then opened it. He looked up at George, whose face was full of fury that looked out of place on the usually humorous boy. "Georgie," he began.

George sprang out of his seat. "DON'T YOU DARE. DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT. YOU'VE NO RIGHT. YOU CAN'T JUST COME BACK AND ACT LIKE YOU DIDN'T LEAVE US. LIKE YOU DIDN'T LEAVE WHEN WE NEEDED YOU MOST. I HATE YOU," George bellowed, tears finally making their way down his pale cheeks.

"I know you do," Percy replied calmly, as if George hadn't yelled.

"NO YOU DON'T. YOU'RE A TERRIBLE BROTHER. I WISH IT HAD BEEN YOU."

Molly grabbed George's arms, spun him so he was looking at her. "You don't mean that. You don't mean that."

Percy, however, was nodding his head. "I know, George. I wish it had been me, too." He lowered his head as tears flowed freely down his face. A broken sob escaped his body.

George didn't say anything for a moment. He pulled his mother's arms off of him, staring at Percy, who he had never seen cry other than over a grade. George maneuvered his way around the table, pulled his brother into a hug, and sobbed into his robes. "You came back, Percy. You came back, and that's all that matters."