Upon hearing the knocking on her door, Ginny smiled to herself. Even though Harry had said he wouldn't be back until the following night (and then he had to go home, so she wouldn't see him until at least Friday), Ginny knew it had to be him.

Her smile fell immediately when she opened the door and was greeted by hair as red as her own. Unfortunately the red hair was atop the head of the single person she couldn't stand.

"What do you want, Percy?" said Ginny, resting one hand on her hip and using the other to hold the door in case she needed to slam it shut.

Her brother flinched at the icy tone. "I just wanted to talk; you've been ignoring all of my owls."

"They all got lost."

Percy sighed. "And you've avoided me like dad's muggle contraptions for the past two years."

Ginny told herself she didn't need to answer.

"They've all forgiven me: mum, dad, all of our brothers, Hermione." Percy lowered his voice. "Harry."

Don't reply, don't reply, don't reply, thought Ginny.

"George forgave me, Ginny." Percy's voice broke. "Why can't you?"

Don't reply, don't - "You don't deserve to call them your family!"

Percy's foot moved backwards, as if he was going to take off down the hallway, but instead he took a deep breath and stepped forward into Ginny's flat. Ginny whipped around to face him, stunned that Percy, of all people, was stood in her home. The hand grasping the door moved with the rest of her body, causing the door to slam shut.

Percy jumped at the noise, but his eyes remained levelly on Ginny's. "I know," he said. "But they forgave me, and I let them. Why is that so bad?"

Ginny's mum had been telling her recently that the reason she was holding a grudge against Percy was that she hadn't gotten over Fred's death. In response, Ginny had stormed out of The Burrow on numerous occasions. She'd made her peace with Fred; just not Percy.

Desperate to turn her back on her brother, Ginny faced the window. On the windowsill stood pictures of her with various friends and family. There was a frame of her and Harry – an unmoving muggle picture, took by her boyfriend – along with several wizarding pictures. Ginny scanned them all, taking in the faces of Hermione, Ron, her parents… all the people who'd taken one step she hadn't. Her eyes finally came to rest on the family photograph, taken before the summer of her second year in Egypt. Fred stood smiling next to an empty space since she'd managed to force the miniature Percy out of the picture. "It's your fault he's dead."

Ginny heard footfalls and the sound of the sofa cushions being compressed. She shot an irritated glance at her brother, ready to demand he remove himself from her furniture, when she caught a look of his face. In his work robes and glasses, Percy already looked out of place next to Ginny's crumpled quidditch robes. With his ears glowing and tears running down his face, the picture of Percy in her mind – prim, proper, smug – was a world away from what she was seeing now.

The sight was almost enough to tug on her heartstrings.

Her scoff coming out more like a watery cough, Ginny turned back to the picture and watched the image of Fred bounce around until tears spilled out of her eyes. "You came back, and Fred was so distracted that he died." Her words sounded childish, even in her own ears

"He was happy," said Percy slowly. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

Whirling around, Ginny glared at Percy. "It means something to everyone else – that's the only reason they forgave you." Her voice was only a whisper, but she knew Percy heard by the way he bowed his head. "But if you weren't there, if you didn't come back, Fred would be happy now; he'd be alive. That's what matters to me."

Head in his hands, Percy's shoulders were wracked with sobs. "It's my – fault…"

Ginny looked away from him, unable to stare at her brother when he was in such a fragile state. Some damn family loyalty had reared its head inside her. When she managed to look back at the still-sobbing Percy, Ginny's anger deflated as quickly as it had built. How could she let herself knowingly add to the pain the broken man across from her was going through?

Tentatively, she took a step towards the sofa, then another and another until she collapsed beside Percy, who looked up in shock.

"I haven't forgiven you," warned Ginny, even as she took his hand.

Percy coughed out a weak, mirthless laugh. "I haven't forgiven myself."

Ginny had thought any contact with this particular brother would be excruciating, and she was right – to a degree. It was like the pain he was feeling was flowing into her, and for the first time, she allowed herself to realise how much of a burden he was carrying. He'd lost a brother as well, she reminded herself, and he'd been there as Fred died. Maybe if Percy hadn't returned on that night, Fred wouldn't have died. But if Harry hadn't returned to Hogwarts on that night, none of the innocent people would've died how they did. Harry had had no choice, she'd always known that, but as she held her brother's hand, Ginny realised that Percy had never had a choice either. He'd always had to come back to his family.

They sat, hands entwined, crying quietly, well into the evening. Every so often, Ginny would glance over to the framed photo and see Fred's smiling face, which caused anger to rise up in her throat like bile. Every time that happened, she took a deep breath and squeezed her brother's hand. The brother that was alive, and hurting. Completely overwhelming any anger she felt was deep sorrow, both for the brother she'd lost, and for the brother who had been carrying the burden of blame for two years.

Even though they'd buried Fred two years ago, Ginny had never fully buried him in her mind. Her anger at Percy had never allowed her closure, and it was only now she was realising that she needed to forgive, not just for Percy, but for herself. Forgiveness wouldn't come easily for Ginny, she knew she was too stubborn for that, though she thought, in time, she'd be able to help release Percy of his burden.

She didn't tell him any of this; she hoped the pressure of her hand in his was expressing all the words that never crossed her lips. Despite being different in so many ways, the two of them were alike in their grief, and that was enough.