A/N: Welcome to the second bonus chapter written for Twinned Quills! This one from Percy's perspective was just too much fun to write. I hope you enjoy it half as much as I did! If you can think of any other chapters from anyone else's perspective you really want to see, let me know!

The floo in Percy Weasley's flat roared to life. He jumped up in his bed, upsetting his covers. The world was a blur, as was the plague of his life, so his hand scrambled over his bedside table in search of his horn-rimmed glasses.

"What in the blazes is going on?" he demanded with all the dignity and command he could muster while cramming his glasses onto his face. Charlie Weasley came into focus standing in front of the fireplace.

"Charlie? Why aren't you at the Burrow?"

"Sorry, Perce. Need to crash here tonight."

Percy started at his brother, who was already rummaging through his linen closet for a blanket.

"But— Why?"

Charlie growled.

Percy narrowed his eyes.

"Well, clearly you're angry," he said, having observed his brother's scowl, looming stature, and split knuckles on his right hand. "An explanation would be appreciated, considering your intended use of my couch tonight rather than the room made available to you at our parents' home. And, if something related to our family has happened in the short time after my departure, it's only right I be informed as well. So, if you please, I'll make you some tea, and you can begin with your story."

Charlie grunted, stomped in a rather undignified fashion to Percy's well polished table, and sat down with more force than was necessary.

Percy sighed, but he began preparing the tea (in his pajamas, the nerve of some people) nonetheless.

"Which of our siblings—"

"It was Ron, of course," Charlie interrupted. "He's done some idiotic stuff, but this…." He slammed his fist on the table upsetting the tea Percy had just set down.

"If you please!" Percy yelped, then he began siphoning up the spilt drink before his table was permanently damaged.

Charlie rubbed his hands over his face and mumbled something.

Percy collected all of his patience, set down the pot of tea a second time, and took a seat across from Charlie. He appraised his watch, waiting for the right number of minutes to pass until the tea was appropriately steeped. He figured Charlie could also use this time to gather his own wits and recollect some calm. When precisely three minutes and forty-five seconds had passed, he poured the tea.

"He's done something awful to Hermione."

Percy's back went rigid. "Is she all right?"

"Yes, yes," Charlie waved his hands in a placating motion. "Sorry, I'm not doing this right." He took a deep breath. "We were all downstairs. You had just flooed off for the night. There was a great deal of bellowing, and next thing I know, Ron is stomping down the stairs screaming an' ranting about Hermione being sick."

"She's ill?"

"Well, that's what I thought, too. And Mum, you should've seen her. In a right state, trying to rush up to help. But instead, Ron starts yelling at us all about how horrible she is. The things he said, Perce..."

Charlie's fists clenched, and Percy preemptively levitated their tea. Charlie waved him down again.

"No, I can't repeat it; I won't. But I clocked him one good before Mum started screaming."

"I see," and Percy really did. He knew exactly the reactive nature of their mother.

"Dad's the one who shoved me through the floo."

"Ahh," he nodded. Now the picture was complete. Except for… "What had Hermione done? I can't imagine it was something inappropriate. As Head Student, she has the exact sense of responsibility needed in a promising and progressive young woman."

Charlie snorted. "As far as I can tell, she's just been writing to that Malfoy kid."

"Hmm…"

"I gather they're involved. And Ron doesn't like it."

"I didn't think that Ronald and Hermione were an item."

"They're not. And from what I heard, he was rummaging through her things, reading her letters. Then he was going off on her about it."

"Well, this is disturbing!" An image of Penelope Clearwater (and her many letters over his sixth year summer) popped into his mind. "Reading her private correspondences, causing such an upsetting scene, yelling at a young lady and close friend—"

"Family. She's family, Perce."

Something in the way he said that caused Percy to pause. He looked over Charlie again. The tension in his shoulders. The smoldering anger. Yes, what Ronald seemingly did was inappropriate and indecorous. He should not be treating anyone in such a manner, screaming and carrying on, let alone honorary family. But, was this really enough to bring Charlie to blows?

"Harry, too," Charlie added, and now Percy could hear the gruffness in his voice.

"Charlie," he began delicately, "is there something upsetting you besides Ron's actions?"

Charlie chuckled and drained his tea as he stood. He clapped Percy on the back.

"Night, Perce. Thanks for the couch."

"Of course. Goodnight."

But now was not a time for sleeping. Percy sat a minute longer at the table finishing his tea and mulling things over in his mind. If Charlie was reacting with physical violence, then it was highly likely that Fr—George was too. Bill was more of the mind to lecture. But, none of this was likely to get through to Ronald. He would have to appeal to his brother's calmer side, even if it rarely came out. Percy crossed the room to his writing desk with a very singular purpose in mind. He seated himself with quill and parchment and began to carefully craft his words.

Ronald,

I wish that I were sending this letter under better circumstances. Know that I do not condone the rash and physical actions of our brother, Charlie. However, you must understand that his heart is in the right place. You have taken a grievous action against an honorary member of our family, and for this you absolutely must make amends. You undoubtedly do not see things in this way, so I feel it incumbent upon myself to expound.

A woman's correspondence is a sacred and private thing. Many women write letters as if they were writing in their journal. These are private thoughts meant to organize their minds and feelings. They are not necessarily representative of how a woman truly thinks or feels. Therefore, these things must be kept in the most secret of confidence. Knowing Hermione's prowess and history, I would not at all be surprised if she adds hexes to her private writings, even as she did to that poor girl in my second year at the Ministry. You are lucky that your actions may not have permanent consequences.

But, Ronald, you have violated her sacred trust.

I have underlined these words so that they may really sink in, and you may understand the whole scope of what you have done. Not only did you discover said private thoughts, but you then used these things against Hermione in what I gather was an explosive and indiscreet way.

Hermione is forging an alliance with a powerful wizarding family, who are likewise trying to rebuild their public is something to be applauded. It is the exact sort of forward thinking that the Ministry encourages, and I implore you to reflect on this. You have but one path before must make amends with Hermione and with the family. You have done well to forge an ally like Harry Potter all those years ago. Continuing with an ally like Hermione Granger is extremely valuable, but more importantly, keeping peace with your family must be your first priority. I myself have first-hand knowledge of what happens when you make the mistake of straying from your family. Please follow in my footsteps in righting this wrong before it is too late. I look forward to receiving your return owl confirming this. If you take these steps with heartfelt sincerity, you will find yourself an ally in me.

Sincerely,
Percy Weasley

Percy read through his letter twice to make sure as much as possible was captured with accuracy and conviction. Then, he attached the letter to Hermes' leg and sent him off. He settled back into bed, and now that the right things were in motion, he was able to fall quickly to sleep.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, shortly after the first pink rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, Percy's head popped off his pillow.

"Hermione!" he whispered to himself. He again donned his glasses, settled himself at his desk, and began to write. Making his sentiments known to Ron was not enough. Hermione had been wronged, and while most of the responsibility lay on Ron's shoulders, it was also part of being a Weasley to make quick amends. He dipped his quill and began to write.

Dear Hermione,

I hope this letter finds you well…