Fred and George don't care about Percy. And they certainly do not miss him.
They hate him. Through and through.
They hated him even before he left. Before he left a gap in their hearts. Before he made their mother cry herself to sleep every night. Before the lines began to sink into their dad's skin, just above his eyebrows that meant he was frowning far too much.
They hated him because he yelled at them over the smallest things. They hated him because he went out with that Penelope girl who was obviously not right for him.
They hated him still, when he would come outside to play Quidditch with them every now and then, even though those times were getting fewer and fewer. They hated him even when he would catch them in the middle of a prank and he would simply walk by if no one was there, never mentioning it, but giving a small smile that he thought they didn't notice as he walked on.
They hated him. They didn't miss him.
That's why they sent out the exploding letters that would cover him in custard. That's why they don't forget that he's not in his room and they don't make sure that whenever they play exploding snap that they use the amplifying charm they worked out years ago. They don't.
They didn't miss him. Not at all.
They do cry sometimes when they fall asleep and it's not because they can't here Percy singing under his breath as he studies anymore. It's not. Sure, they don't laugh as hard anymore, but it's not because it isn't as funny when Percy is berating them on their perverted minds or how childish they were. It's not.
They certainly don't care about him.
Not even when they remember that one time when Percy gave Fred his ice-cream because Fred's was now laying in the dirt, and he was crying because their father had bought them for the three.
They don't care.
Not even when they hear an owl tapping at the window, and they know that it's Percy's, because it's always Percy's. They don't care that eventually the owl flies back to his master, managing to get the letter off of itself. They don't care that only they get these special letters, and they don't care that they've never read them and that they sit inside a locked drawer in their desk.
They don't care. Because neither does Percy, anyway.
They don't automatically not touch the last custard tart in the fridge because Percy loves them. They don't. Just as the don't not touch the broom that lay forgotten in the broom shed, left by Percy, that everyone else automatically tries to grab because it's the fastest.
They definitely don't do a lot of things. They definitely don't miss Percy, and wish he would drag his sorry arse back to the burrow and beg for forgiveness, which they wouldn't give, they wouldn't. They definitely don't care if he's said he's sorry 278 times exactly, and they don't count.
They definitely hate Percy.
And they defininitely don't love Percy.
