Author's Notes: First off—this is my 100th fanfiction. I am both astounded and ashamed to have spent so much time on this hobby.

Next up, I want to say that this story can be read by itself and should be perfectly understandable. However, it serves as a sequel to my one-shot "Odd One Out" and is thematically related to "Five Times That the Weasleys Missed Percy." I got the idea when I realized that Ron's feelings toward Percy in the two stories seemed inconsistent and I wanted to explore them more.

Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys, and feel free to read those other fics if you want (but again, you don't have to). Please review!

Percy was sitting at the kitchen table in the Burrow, reading a book, when Ron approached him with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Ah, Ron," he said without looking up. "Nice to see you. I was actually just looking at your gift from Christmas."

Ron's eyes twitched down to the tome, then back up to his brother. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

"This book? Have you read it already?"

"I meant Christmas presents." Ron suddenly frowned. "Wait—was that a joke?"

Percy's eyes stayed on the book, but his lips curled into a small smile. "Yes. That charming son of yours seems to be rubbing off on me."

Ron's scowl deepened. Hugo had grown increasingly close to Percy since sometime the previous summer; Ron didn't mind that, exactly, but it rather baffled him. He shook his head, trying to focus on the topic at hand. "I'm here because I didn't get a Christmas gift from you last year."

"No, you didn't."

"Hermione got one. Hugo and Rose both got one. As far as I can tell, everybody in the family got one except for me."

"And it only took you two months to notice."

"I didn't bring it up because I figured the owl you sent fainted or something," Ron snapped. "Hermione said I shouldn't press the issue—that you must have bought me something and telling you I didn't get it would just make you feel guilty. Plus I don't usually like your gifts anyway," he added in an undertone. "Except I just talked to Audrey the other day and she said you didn't give me anything on purpose. Something about being mad at me."

"Did she." It didn't sound like a question. Percy turned a page, still not looking up. "Well, your birthday is next week. Maybe you'll have better luck then."

"You know, I don't like you being sarcastic. And not just because it feels really out of character—it's also just annoying in general." He stared at his brother for a moment. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you at least going to tell me why you've apparently disowned me?"

Ron didn't realize it, but disowned was not a very good word to use in this situation. Percy pursed his lips and pushed the book away, finally turning around to gaze up at his brother. His strange cheerfulness was gone, his expression now stony.

"Alright, fine. I decided not to get you anything last summer, when I found out that you have been spreading very personal information about me to your children."

Ron stared at him for a long moment as though trying to puzzle him out. "Is this about that time you wet yourself? Because if so, it's Bill who's lips get loose when he drinks—"

"I'm talking about what happened back during the Second War!" Percy snapped, taking Ron by surprise. "According to Hugo, you told him about my troubled relationship with the family—"

"Since when is that a sec—"

"—but only gave him half of the story so that I sounded like a complete jackass!" Percy shouted, jumping to his feet. Ron cursed himself as he took an automatic step back—Percy was the only one of his siblings who was actually tall enough to look down at him.

"Well, if the shoe fits, Perce," Ron grumbled, taking a degree of pleasure in the way his brother's nostrils flared. "And when, exactly, did this become a secret anyway?"

"It is my private business and I would have expected my own brother—"

"Oh, just your business, was it? Because you weren't the one who had to listen to Mum crying for whole nights on end—"

"—to respect my right to keep it personal rather than blathering about it—"

"Well, if you care so much what the family thinks, maybe you shouldn't have left in the first—"

"What is going on down here?!"

Percy and Ron instantly turned as their eldest brother, Bill, came into the room. He had his arms crossed and was staring at the two with an expression of disbelief, which was ruined somewhat by the fact that he was wearing a plastic pink tiara and a string of fake pearls.

"Bill. Didn't know you were here," Ron muttered, shooting Percy a look before turning back to him. He nodded. "Nice hat."

"Huh? Oh." Bill frowned, reaching up and touching the tiara. "George apparently promised Roxanne I would play Tea-Party before he dropped her off. That's not important. What are you two arguing about?"

"Percy's being a prat," Ron said, sounding like a five-year-old.

"Nuh-uh," Percy muttering, sounding roughly the same.

Bill sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Roxanne was acting more mature than you two. Let's try that again before I call Mum: what are you fighting about?"

"Percy's pitching a fit just because I told Hugo about—you know."

"The time he wet himself?"

"No, but you are I are going to have a talk about that," Percy grumbled. He sighed, looking away. "Ron has been blathering on to the children—"

"Not all of them—"

"—that I used to have...issues...with the family during the War. But he's making it sound like I just up and abandoned everybody!"

"Because you did!" Ron spat. "You walked out on us over a bloody job, Percy! You didn't even visit Dad in the hospital when he was attacked by that big ruddy snake—"

"That's because none of you even wrote to tell me Dad was in the hospital!" Percy suddenly snarled, his eyes going fierce. "Do you have any idea what it was like to open up the Daily Prophet and see something like that—"

"Well, if you had still been talking to us—"

"—made it perfectly clear that you didn't want me to visit!"

"HEY! Do I need to send you boys to a time-out?!" Bill glared at both of them, and they looked away in opposite directions. "Bloody hell! You know, Lucy's gardening wth Mum in the backyard, Perce. If you don't want her to know about this maybe you should keep your ruddy voice down!"

Percy turned red and mumbled something indistinct. Ron smirked triumphantly.

"And you," Bill said, suddenly rounding on him.

He blinked. "What?!"

"All I'm saying is, you wouldn't like it if one of us went around telling all your secrets." Ron rolled his eyes, and Bill's voice became more pointed. "Incidentally, I seem to remember you staying with me and Fleur around the same time Percy was out of touch with the family. Would you like me to go upstairs right now and tell Roxie and Freddy about that?"

Percy watched as Ron stiffened, his eyes momentarily going wide. "That's what I thought. Now why don't you two sit down and discuss your problems like the forty-year-old men that you are?"

Bill gave them a satisfied look before leaving the kitchen, adjusting his tiara and muttering something about "immature little blighters."

A long moment of silence passed between the remaining brothers. Ron was very careful not to meet Percy's gaze.

"What was that about?"

"It—nothing."

"It was something."

"It's none of your business, that's what it was."

"Please tell me you realize the irony of that argument."

Ron didn't respond. Percy stared at the side of his head, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table.

"I already know that you, Hermione and Harry were hiding with Bill and Fleur during the War," he said slowly. "But I was under the impression that you just needed a place to get away from the Death Eaters. What were you three doing that—"

He was interrupted by Ron's sigh. "It wasn't all of us he was talking about."

"Pardon?"

Ron kept his face turned away, but Percy could tell it was starting to turn red. "There were—two times when I stayed with Bill, during that last year. The second time, right before the Battle of Hogwarts, was with Hermione and Harry. The other time...around Christmas...it was just me staying with him."

It was obvious Ron didn't want to be discussing this. Which only made Percy more curious to know more. "Why?"

"Because I...left Harry and Hermione. We had a fight and I stormed off, then couldn't find them after they Disapparated away."

Ron finally turned to Percy, but now he had turned away, looking forward. His expression was unreadable.

"Well. Isn't that interesting."

"Perce—"

"I'm just saying, you all treated me like a bleeding traitor and go around criticizing me to your children—"

"Percy—"

"—and then it turns out that you did the very same thing to your friends, at an even more dangerous time—"

"You're right, Percy, okay?! Now shut up about it!"

Percy froze and stared at his brother. Ron's expression had gone from dull and sheepish back to angry.

"But it wasn't quite the same thing," he snapped. "We—the three of us—were carrying a piece of You-Know—Voldemort's soul with us all the time. It was doing things with our heads. And even then, I came back as soon as I figured out how to find them. You left us for years, even after you found out Harry was telling the truth."

"It was not years. I came back for Christmas!" he yelled, interrupting Ron before he could speak. "The Christmas after I realized I had been wrong, and you all made it very clear that you didn't want me around—"

"You just brought Scrimgeour to try to bully Harry into helping him!"

"I—Minister Scrimgeour wanted to reconcile the Ministry with Harry after the way Fudge treated him, the same way that I wanted to reconcile with you, but—"

"That's not the way Harry made it sound!"

"Well, it's the way—oh, what the bloody hell are we fighting about?!" Percy threw up his hands, looking away.

Ron was taken aback again; he had never heard Percy cuss before.

Well, except once. During the fight with Dad that left them all estranged in the first place.

Another long silence reigned as both brothers sat deep in thought. Percy's expression was moody, while Ron's was uncharacteristically pensive. He finally broke the silence in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Did you really think we didn't want you back, Perce?"

It was a moment before Percy answered. "I was never sure. I mean, I knew Mum did, but—well. It's not like the rest of you ever wanted me around before the fight."

Ron stared at him, then looked away.

"...I liked having you around. For the most part. I guess."

"Such glowing praise, thank you."

He tapped his fingers again. Ron tried to think of something else to say, but Percy spoke before he could come up with anything.

"That's how Hugo told me, you know."

Ron blinked. "Huh?"

"That's how I know you told Hugo about me leaving." Percy spoke very slowly, carefully; this had been a very personal conversation and he did not want to reveal any of Hugo's secrets along with his own. "He asked if it was because of, you know, the political issues, or if it was because...well, because I felt like none of you liked me anyway."

Ron wondered how Hugo could have come up with something like that. But then he wondered...

"What did you tell him?"

"That it was a little of both." His voice suddenly started to quiver. "I didn't just leave because I wanted a job, Ron. I left because you all treated me like a joke. You treated my dreams like a joke. And then, once I had this golden opportunity...I mean, perhaps you all were partly right about it, that Fudge wanted me to get to the Order and Dumbledore, but how do you think that sounded to me? How would you have felt if you spent three years training to be an Auror, and then Dad just told you that no, you don't deserve this honor, the Minister was just using you because there was no way you could have gotten it without..."

He trailed off, and then suddenly sniffled, and Ron jumped in surprise. For a moment he was sure that Percy was crying, but when he turned back to him he saw that his eyes were still hard and dry, even if his mouth was set in a little frown.

"I never realized you felt that way," Ron said finally. Then, "I'm sorry."

"Hmph. Thank you, I suppose." He looked away again.

Ron again felt both eager and reluctant to share something, and without thinking began to imitate Percy, tapping his fingers on the table. "You know, when I—left Harry and Hermione, it—well, like I said, Voldemort's Horcrux was doing things to my head. But I..."

Percy waited. "Yes?"

"Well, I—you and Bill and Charlie, and even Fred and George—you were all doing these amazing things before I was even old enough for Hogwarts, and Ginny—I mean, she was younger, and she was the only girl, so Mum always doted on her." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "And then I hung out with Hermione, and you know she's a genius, and Harry, well, he's Harry, obviously, so—"

"You're stammering, Ron."

"Yeah, I realize that." He sighed. "I guess what I'm saying is...when I was younger, I felt like I was the family joke too. And like I was...not good enough for anyone else." He stared down at his hands. "And when I was wearing Voldemort's bloody Horcrux, it kept making me think stuff like that—that Harry and Hermione and the family didn't really care about me. And that's basically why I walked out on them."

It was Percy's turn to fall silent now. "I never realized the two of us were so alike," he finally murmured.

Ron chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah."

Percy shifted in his chair. "I tried to write to you, once. When I heard you became a prefect. You never wrote back. Though in retrospect, I suppose I might have come off a bit, er—"

"Like a git. But it's the thought that counts," Ron added quickly, as Percy shot him an angry look.

The older brother turned back around. "All of this happened more than twenty years ago. Why have we never talked about it until now?"

Ron shrugged. "Better late than never, I suppose. But they're not exactly our proudest moments, are they?"

"True."

That hung in the air for a bit, and Ron looked uneasy again. "So, er—I'm sorry for telling Hugo about that. I didn't know you wanted—but I guess I should have known anyway. If it makes you feel better, I never told any of the other kids. I think."

"Well. Apology accepted, I suppose."

"...You know you still owe me a Christmas present now, right?"

Percy smirked.

"No, really. That or I want that stupid book back," he said, motioning to the tome Percy had on the table.

Percy took the book and slid it across to Ron without looking at him.

Ron scowled, snatching the book up, closed it—and froze. This was not the boring biography of former Minister for Magic Barnabas Cantril that Ron had gotten Percy for Christmas. This book had a bright orange cover with the title Captaining the Cannons: A Memoir above the waving photo of former Chudley Cannons Keeper Marcus Crenshaw. He stared.

"I said it was your gift from Christmas. I didn't say it was the gift you gave me."

"...Audrey told you I was going to confront you about this, didn't she?"

"Yes. Though I've had that for the last two months. I was really expecting you to bring it up at Christmas."

"We really do need to talk to each other about our problems more," Ron said, finally tearing his eyes away from the book. "And I need to stop letting Hugo spend time over at your house. You with a sense of humor is just plain sick."

Percy smirked wider as Ron took the gift and walked away.