Another two-parter.

Please don't hate Charlie too much - he's having a very bad time at the moment.

And more Bill ;-)

30th October 1998 Molly Weasley is 48

Charlie sighed and paced restlessly around his room in the dragon keepers' hostel. He was looking at two letters that had arrived by owl that morning. The first, from his father, made him feel guilty, but he could live with that. He was getting used to feeling guilty anyway. It read: "Dear Charlie, I'm sorry you can't make it home for Mum's birthday. She was really hoping to have everyone together for it. Hope to see you sometime soon anyway. Love, Dad."

The second letter, from Bill, was different. Charlie had read it through several times, feeling alternately guilty and furiously angry. If his father couldn't see through his motives for not wanting to go to his mother's birthday dinner, his older brother certainly could. "Dear Charlie," the letter read. "Stop making excuses and swap your bloody shifts. Mum wants everyone here for her birthday, and after the last few months, she damn well deserves it. You've been home precisely once since Fred's funeral, and it isn't going to get any easier the longer you put it off. If you can't face staying at The Burrow, then come to us instead, but come. And I know seeing George is hard – I saw the way you avoided looking at him at Ginny's coming of age – but you can't keep away from him forever. The rest of us cope with it – Ron has to live and work with him for Godric's sake – so you can for a day or two. Hiding away with your dragons won't make Fred any less dead. You have to face it sooner or later. Don't be a coward, Charlie, it's not like you. Bill."

Charlie screwed up the letter and flung it against the wall, swearing vehemently under his breath. How the hell did Bill always know how he was feeling? He'd have to go, of course. With Bill in this mood, he'd be quite likely to come over to Romania and fetch him himself if he refused, and Charlie thought it would be better to at least keep up the appearance of coming willingly. Sighing, he sat down at his desk, pulled over some parchment and a quill and wrote: "Hi Dad, Managed to change my shifts after all. See you some time on the afternoon of the 30th. Probably just for a couple of days. Love, Charlie." To Bill he wrote: Okay, okay, I'm coming, if only to shut you up. See you on the 30th. Charlie." He rolled up the parchments and went downstairs to find an owl.

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Percy was not looking forward to his mother's birthday either. Since his return to the family fold, he had learnt to cope well enough with his family individually or a few at a time. He was actually enjoying living back at The Burrow again and being fussed over by his mother. But the whole family at once was a bit overwhelming. With all of them there, the feeling that some of them at least must wish that it was him that had died became more intrusive. So did the guilt that he had been with Fred when he died and not been able to save him. And seeing George still hurt, though Percy had become almost immune to that now, especially since sharing his room with him for several weeks following George's breakdown.

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By mid-afternoon on Molly's birthday, everyone except Charlie was assembled at The Burrow. Arthur had prevailed upon Professor McGonagall to let Ginny out of school for the occasion, so she was there, together with Harry and Hermione. Molly had been banished from the kitchen, and it was slightly chaotic as the rest of them prepared the meal. It was too cold to eat outside, so George, Ron and Harry were trying to squeeze enough tables and chairs into the dining room for all of them. Both Arthur and Bill were on edge watching out for Charlie's arrival, neither of them wanting to admit to anyone else that they were worried about his non-appearance.

Finally, there was a loud crack as Charlie Apparated in the yard. Ginny dropped the knife she was holding and ran over to hug him as he came through the back door. Charlie's eyes met Bill's over the top of their sister's head with a look that was almost challenging, but Bill decided to let it go. The last thing he wanted was to argue with Charlie when he had finally conquered his fears of being with his family enough to come home.

Charlie found it every bit as difficult as he had anticipated being back at The Burrow. How he had handled it at Ginny's coming of age was beyond him now. When they were all gathered round the table eating – the meal was good, though perhaps not quite up to Mrs. Weasley's standards – the fact of Fred's absence was so painful to him that he honestly did not understand how everyone else could carry on eating and talking and laughing. George, on the other side of the table from him, was flanked by Bill on one side and Percy on the other, and that was just so wrong. When did you ever see George without Fred next to him? And how could George bear to sit next to Percy, even to joke with him as he was doing, when Percy had been with Fred when he died and he hadn't? As for George himself … Bill had been right, Charlie could hardly stand to look at him. He didn't know how the others managed when they saw him every day and had the constant reminder of Fred's face in front of them.

Charlie was so absorbed in his thoughts that he was completely unaware of several of the others shooting worried looks at him. His mother, sitting next to him, had been delighted to have her second son home for her birthday after all. But now she could not help worrying that his face was pale beneath its scattering of freckles, that he had barely touched his dinner, and that he only spoke when he must to answer a remark that one of the others directed at him. Bill too was concerned. He had been the only person to realise why Charlie had been so reluctant to come home since Fred's death, and now it seemed that his fears about Charlie's feelings were correct.

As for Percy, he was aware of Charlie's silent hostility towards him, and understood it only too well. He knew that Charlie must blame him for being with Fred when he died and not being able to save him; for coming back in time for the battle despite his years of estrangement from the family when he, Charlie, had not made it back in time; for being alive when Fred was dead.

The pièce de résistance of the meal was a flower-covered birthday cake that Ginny had made, refusing all offers of help from the others. Her father laughed and hugged her when he saw it, and told her that cake-making must be an inherited skill. After the cake was eaten, Molly and Arthur were hustled into the living room with their coffee, while the rest of the family cleared up.

Bill was keeping a wary eye on Charlie and Percy, conscious of a tension between the two of them that no one else seemed to have noticed. He knew how difficult Charlie was finding this return home, and he was afraid that he might take his feelings out on Percy if given half a chance.

The trigger, when it came, was relatively minor. The kitchen was crowded, and Percy backed into Charlie by accident, causing him to drop the tray of glasses he was carrying.

"Watch it, idiot!" snarled Charlie rudely, as the tray and its contents crashed to the floor.

Percy raised his eyebrows at this, but hastened to apologise: "Sorry Charlie, I wasn't looking where I was going."

Charlie glared at him. "Yeah, that figures. You always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, don't you?" he growled.

Percy's eyes widened in astonishment. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his own voice rising.

"Oh, I think you know well enough," shouted Charlie, shaking off the restraining hand that Bill had laid on his arm. "How come Fred ended up under that wall and not you? How come you were with him when he died and didn't do a fucking thing to save him?"

There was a stunned silence in the kitchen, none of the others quite believing – or wanting to believe – what Charlie had just said.

"Charlie, stop now!" cried Bill, putting a hand on his brother's arm again.

"Keep out of this, Bill! It's none of your fucking business!" yelled Charlie, beside himself with fury, pulling away from Bill's grasp. "Well, Perce? How come?"

Percy was white-faced, nearly as angry as Charlie now. "Look," he shouted. "It's not my fault it was Fred, not me. Blaming me won't alter the fact that he's dead. At least I was there, which is more than you managed!"

Charlie gasped, and launched himself on Percy, knocking him to the ground and hitting and punching him with a fury even he had not realised he felt. Percy fought back fiercely. There was a split second of stunned silence and stillness before anyone else moved, and then Bill and Ron hauled Charlie back, while George and Harry grabbed Percy and held onto him. Percy's glasses were broken, and his nose was bleeding badly. He relaxed almost immediately as George and Harry pulled him away from Charlie, his anger spent already.

Charlie, by contrast, continued to struggle in Bill and Ron's grasp. He seemed oblivious to the blood running into his eyes from a gash on his forehead and to the cuts on his knuckles where Percy's glasses had broken.

"Charlie, calm down!" yelled Bill, fighting to keep his hold on his brother.

"Let – me – go!" choked Charlie, furiously.

"Not until you calm down," said Bill, reaching for his wand. "I'll put a body-bind curse on you if you don't."

"You wouldn't dare," gasped Charlie, but slowed his struggles slightly when he saw the wand in his brother's hand and the look in his eyes.

"Wouldn't I?" asked Bill grimly. "Don't try me."

Charlie swallowed, and stopped struggling altogether, pulling away from Bill and Ron as their grip on his arms slackened. "Okay, okay," he muttered. "Just let me go." Then he was across the kitchen and out of the back door, even as Molly and Arthur emerged from the living room to see what all the noise was about.