Ron was folding his socks. Charlie has no idea why, or what prompted Ron into this sudden bout of orderliness, but isn't about to stop him as, caught up in the momentum of sock piling, Ron has matched up Charlie's socks too.

He has a peculiar way of folding socks: he sets the first sock down, lays the second on top, 90º to the first, before folding the first over the second, and then the second over the first. It is exactly the same way Percy does it.

Ron glances over at Charlie and pauses.

"You alright, Charlie?" he asks, concerned.

"Nah, I'm half left."

Ron continues to look worried as Charlie gives him a small smile.

"I'm alright, Ron," he says, "Just missing Percy, s'all."

Ron nods, then gives a start.

"Perce? Not-not Fred?"

Charlie winces.

"I'm always missing Fred," Charlie says quietly.

"But, you said - Percy…" Ron trails off in a questioning manner.

"You fold socks like him."

Ron looks surprised.

"Yeah, well he helped me pack the day before Hogwarts. I guess, I guess it must have stuck. So?"

"I, uh, go through cycles of missing you lot. Sometimes I'll really want to see Ginny, other times everything'll remind me of Bill. Now I just…miss Percy."

Ron is quiet a moment, which he does a lot while he thinks.

"You never told that before."

"It wasn't so bad when Bill was in Egypt, going through the same thing. Our letters revolved around who we were missing the most at the time. But he's in England now, with everyone else. It helped when you came, but you're leaving soon, so…" Charlie shrugs.

Ron's expression is tainted with guilt.

"How'd you know I was leaving soon?" he asks.

"Don't think I was under the illusion you were gonna come back after Fred's funeral."

"You don't mind, do you?" Ron asks anxiously.

"Ron, it's fine. It wasn't as if you were going to stay forever."

"It's still not fair," Ron says, ashamed, "You shouldn't have to be alone. We're, like, millions of miles away, and you're here all on your own."

Charlie grins, "Not quite millions. Seriously though, it's fine. You were never meant for this life of solitude and dragon-sitting. You're the big hero close to home. You keep the Boy-Who's-Alive in check and the Weasleys in their normal state of insanity. I can't keep you all to myself."

Ron looks away, fiddling with socks.

"You know, sometimes I don't wanna go back. I know I've got to. Eventually. But, it's like, when I go back, it'll all be horribly real. The War. Fred…Here, it's all detached. Dream-like.

"I don't know if I can handle reality anymore," Ron whispers.

Charlie wraps his arms around him, "Oh Ron," Charlie says, "Oh Ronnie – this is my reality. It's all real to me: the War, Fred…We can't keep living in different states of acceptance. You've got to go back to Harry, and Hermione, and Mum and Dad. You've got to be there for them too. They need you more than they let on. It'll hurt more than help if you were to stay here."

Ron tightens his grip in the embrace, unmatched socks forgotten for the moment.

"I don't want to leave," he mumbles into Charlie's clothes.

"Oh, but you do. And you will, and I'll miss you all over again."

"But not today," Ron tells him fiercely.

"I know."

"And not tomorrow, either."

"I know."

"And not the day after that."

Charlie smiles, "I know."

Ron nods, "Good. That's…good."

They break apart, and Ron wipes his nose on his sleeve. He clears his throat, and picks up a pile of paired socks.

"You want me to put your socks in you room?"

"Thanks."