A/N: I stumbled along this one-shot I wrote and forgot about recently and with some editing, it's ready for uploading. It's been ages since I updated any other fics of mine, but don't worry (to readers who were following them), I don't plan to abandon them, no matter of how long ago the last chapter was written. I hope you enjoy this short reconciliation-angsty-fluffy one-shot, and do review!

The Burrow was repaired slowly after the Battle of Hogwarts, and once it was looking like one piece again, Percy Weasley disappeared in.

He slowly roamed around the remaining charred ashes, furniture and Muggle objects. His fingers touched everything gingerly, and his legs involuntarily brought him up to his old room. The room that he had never set foot in months. The room that he had left behind.

Just like how he left his family behind.

And how they left him too.

The thought weighed heavily in his mind, and he sunk down onto the wooden floor.

—

Arthur looked around for his third oldest son, low bubbling hysteria coming up inside of him. It was only a couple of months after Voldemort's defeat, and most of the Weasleys were still high on alert, nerves tingling whenever something was not of the normal.

Arthur decided to cast a patronus to Molly, a sun bear illuminated blue sprang from his wand tip, and he said the message to pass on.

"I can't find Percy, going to the Burrow. Call for reinforcements if no patronus in half hour."

The sun bear seemed to nod his head, and disappeared along the wind.

Arthur quickly Dissaparated into the Burrow's kitchen, heart grasping when the remains of his old, and warm house entered his view. He could not waste any second reminiscing what was gone, he had to grasp on what was present. Real, important.

Combing through the the rooms of the Burrow, catching no glimpse of Percy, he stood at the ajar door of Percy's room. Soft sobbing was heard from the inside, and Arthur had to restrain himself from rushing into the room.

He took out his wand, held it in front of him and entered cautiously but hurriedly.

The tall but lanky body of his third oldest son was on the floor, legs curled up to the chest, head buried in his arms, rocking himself in some kind of rhythm.

Arthur immediately went forward and his arms went around Percy.

"Percy?"

Percy seemed to not have heard him, still rocking himself in his father's hold, and Arthur tried again.

"Percy? Son, look at me."

Percy finally responded, and his red rimmed eyes stared up into those blue irises of his father's.

His horn-rimmed glasses were absent, and Arthur could not help but notice the gaunt look of his son.

"Father?" Percy's wavering voice was heard, and Arthur smiled thinly.

"Percy."

Percy looked down again, and silence fell.

Arthur stared at him. "Percy?" He prompted.

Still fixating his gaze on the floor, Percy mumbled, "Dad? Do you hate me? For Fred's death? For...for everything else?"

Arthur held his head up sharply, and took a short breath in before answering steadily.

"No, Percy. No. I don't hate you, I never hated you and no one hates you."

Percy looked up then, his eyes swirling of distrust, and Arthur continued.

"You did not cause Fred to die, son. You didn't. It was the Death Eaters' fault, Voldemort's fault-"

"But not mine?" Percy continued for him, and Arthur nodded.

By that point they were both standing, and evident grief and fury streaked in Percy's eyes.

"I made a joke!" Percy exploded. "I made a joke which he laughed at! He laughed at my joke!"

"And when I finally gained his laughter, his approval, he died!"

It was silent then, and he ran his trembling hand through this copper hair.

"He died because of me."

Percy's voice broke at the end, and he once again felt those warm arms around him.

Arthur held him tight. "You were always my favorite child, Percy."

"Not...not Fred, George, Ron, Charlie, Bill? Not Ginny?"

"I love you all the same, but you are my favorite."

"You were the most sensible, responsible, and the kindest child. Your mother and I could always count on you to keep the young ones in line, and you had a goal to work towards, ever since you were a kid."

Percy smiled at this, but responded dryly. "The goal didn't turn out helpful, did it?"

"Percy, no matter how much I had despised the thought of one of my child away from my side during the war, I was glad you chose what you did."

"Really, Father? I chose my job over family!"

"At least I did not have to worry about you getting killed off hunting horcruxes and running underground Order of the Phoenix radio systems. You were not with us, yes, but you were stable. And albeit a little safer than the rest."

Percy nodded in understanding (not that he deemed suspicious checks and constant surveillance on him from Umbridge and company safer, but he was not about to reveal that), and readjusted his robes, signaling that the, as Fred would say, mushy and touchy session was over.

Arthur could not help but chuckle at this, and he held his son's shoulder and guided them out of the room.

"Let's go home, shall we? Molly will be frantic by now, and we don't want Aurors appearing everywhere," Arthur said.

"Let's go home."

And for the first time in months, Percy felt that the hole in his heart was filled.

Fin.