A/N: Thank you all so much for the interest you've shown in this short little story! I want to thank you all for favoriting or following it, and I especially appreciate the reviewers, The Marvel Tiger, Mighty Penguin and the guest reviewers-one of whom came over from my other story Billy-Boy (not HP related), and whose reviews I always look forward too. Thank you!

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Percy's brow wrinkled as he heard the sounds of someone clunking around a kitchen. That wasn't right. There shouldn't be anyone else in his flat.

Forcing himself to move, even though he had a vague notion that this might not be the best idea, Percy pushed himself upright, his eyes still closed, and immediately groaned and bent forward, arms wrapping around his middle as his stomach let him know it was not particularly liking the liquid sloshing around in it, especially after it had been empty for so many days. After a long minute where he determined he was not going to vomit after all, he pushed himself slowly upright again, his right hand leaving his middle and going to push against his temple as his head began to twinge too.

Still, if there was an intruder of some type-even if it was an intruder who was apparently making soup judging from the smell wafting out of the kitchen-he needed to determine his next course of action. He should…floo the aurors-or someone anyway. His landlord was rather intimidating, at least Percy thought so…perhaps he should call him for assistance?

As he finally pried his eyes open, his mouth dropped open-this was not his flat. This was not a flat he had ever seen before. He sat there for a minute, not sure if he should be worried, or of this just meant he had gone home with someone. It had been a very long time since Penelope and he had been together, and loneliness made people do strange things.

Then again, if he'd gone home with someone he would rather have expected to wake up in a bed, not on a couch…

As he looked around the room, trying to find any clues that would shed light on this new predicament he'd gotten himself into, Percy's eyes fell on a row of pictures on the mantelpiece. Weasley family pictures.

Suddenly with a sinking feeling, bits of earlier that day began to flood back to him and Percy sunk back against the couch cushions and buried his face in his hands, groaning. Bill had found him. Bill had found him and brought him here, and Percy had been completely pissed, and if he recalled correctly Bill had not been very pleased.

He also had a vague recollection that there had been some sort of fire, but that couldn't be right…

He groaned into his hands again, not understanding quite how this had happened, or what he was to do about it.

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Bill thanked Merlin for his mother's mother henning tendencies, as he eyed the pantry filled with preserved homemade meals, his eyes drifting over eggs and bacon, and broccoli casserole. He only needed for the most part to put them in the right sort of pot or pan, and merely follow the directions she'd put on them-which mostly meant just remembering to stir it if it was something that needed stirring, and to take it off after the right amount of time.

If it were anything else he would probably have gotten annoyed when she kept sending him the meals-he'd refused to send her his laundry to wash from the very first day he'd moved out-but Bill could not cook. He'd tried to learn, but anything more complicated than the meals you just had to tap with your wand eluded him. And most of those tasted odd. He'd never been quite sure if it was the meals themselves or if he was somehow heating them wrong. Whenever he'd attempted to cook on his own the results had been…disturbing. And decidedly not edible. And so now, nearly eight years after he'd left home, his mother still provided the majority of his food.

He may actually have to learn to cook in earnest at some point, since after Fleur had eaten "his" grilled chicken and white cheddar pasta, she'd begun raving about how well rounded he was, and how thoughtful…

Bill smiled as his eyes lit upon the proper container-soup. Not chicken noodle, Percy's favorite, he'd eaten the last of that a while ago, but no one could resist Mum's ham and potato soup. He pulled it off the shelf and turned to leave the pantry, snagging a bag of bread rolls off a small tower of cereal boxes-he could feed himself if necessary-as he went.

He crossed through the kitchen to the stove, taking a quick peek into the living room where Percy was stretched out on the couch, still asleep. He shook his head as he pulled a pot out of the cupboard to the side of him and placed it on the stove, tapping the burner with his wand a few times to get it set to the right temperature. Then he held the soup container with one hand over the pot, and tapped the lid, releasing the charms and enchantments his mother had layered on to it. Bill let go of the container, knowing it would do the rest, and took a step back to lean against the kitchen island, watching the show.

First the flaps on the bottom sprang apart, flying up to tuck neatly against the sides of the box, then it began to spin, the soup spiraling out like an upside down tornado, so that by the time it landed neatly in the soup pot it had already been thoroughly stirred. The next bit was the best though, the package, done spinning for the moment, began to rapidly fold in on itself, until it resembled a small business card. The business card then began to speak-his mother's voice happy and business like, in a way that made him picture her bustling around the Burrow's kitchen, as it rattled off the few instructions left, "Ham and Potato soup. Stir every ten minutes until thoroughly heated, on medium heat. May add one half cup of milk or cream if too thick. Leftovers need to be repacked or refrigerated within three hours." Then she broke character for a minute, chiming, "Mummy loves you Billy, enjoy your supper." in the teasing voice she knew would make him cringe in embarrassment.

After the aforementioned automatic cringe, Bill shook his head and smiled, holding out his hand for the business card that flew neatly into it-the recipe for the soup on one side, and the instruction for re-heating it on the other, no sign that soup had ever touched any part of the neat, shiny, card left.

His mum had too much time on her hands now that everyone was out of the house most of the year-or rather she had before all this order business started. It was too bad really-he'd been trying to talk her into marketing them to businesses, or setting up some sort of home-owl order business, and she had seemed to be actually taking it into consideration the last few times he'd brought it up. The extra gallons he'd made selling them to his friends, and then slipped to her had slowly begun to make her realize there was a market for it-after all as Bill had asked her, how many other hungry young bachelor and bachelorettes didn't have a mother kind enough to cook for them? That had seemed to motivate her as much as the idea of extra gallons. But, he supposed that one was going out the window now.

Bill moved and set the card inside a small recipe box off the side of his stove-another gift from his mother-and moved to open the bag of bread rolls. Even he was capable of heating them up in the oven-and he thought, as he pulled out a knife and began slicing them, he had long had a love for them toasted with a little butter and cheese on top and happened to remember Percy had enjoyed them as well-he had trouble sleeping sometimes at Hogwarts that first year, and since Bill was headboy, he'd managed to convince his tiny, teacher's pet of a brother that it was not against the rules for him to come find Bill in the common room, where he had often sat up late studying, and toasting rolls…

A low groan from the living room brought Bill out of his memories, and he sat down the knife he'd been using, scooping up a potions bottle that had been resting on the counter that ran along the doorway's wall as he crossed through it, "You're awake sooner than I thought Perce." And he was-it had only been a little over an hour when he'd begun to crash, and he had quickly fallen asleep. His little brother looked up at him, straightening in his seat-Percy ever had his pride-even as he gulped a bit, presumably at having to face his brother. He took a few steps closer and thrust the potion bottle at Percy, smiling gamely when he gave him an uncertain look, "Just a hangover potion-and I've another in the morning if you need it again."

Percy reached out and took the bottle, giving him a smile that was more grimace than anything else and a quiet "Thank you.", before knocking back the potion like it was a shot, and then leaning back into the couch cushions, almost against his will as it began to work. Percy sighed in relief-his head still hurt a bit, although that was fading as he spoke, and he was fairly certain that he was still a little drunk, but the nausea and dizziness, the achy sore feeling in his limbs was gone. The instant relief was almost worth the hangover in the first place.

Almost.

"Feeling better?" Bill seemed much calmer than Percy remembered as he peered at him, studying him for a moment before answering.

"Yes Bill. Thank you for the potion." as Percy began to think of the best way to bring up the topic of his leaving-and right now, not in the morning-Bill took charge of the situation and nodding, hoisted Percy off the couch, and began to push his now spluttering little brother in the direction of the kitchen.

"Well then, you should be able to get some soup into your scrawny arse now, shouldn't you?" Percy, thoroughly discombobulated, and not sure whether the cheerful tone to his brother's voice was genuine, or if he was as unhappy as a certain interpretation of his words would imply, let himself be dragged along into the kitchen. He would regroup in a moment, share enough of the details of his plan to keep Bill from worrying-Percy had had no intentions of anyone thinking he was dead, had not really considered it as a possibility, but felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered Bill's words from earlier that night-and then be on his way. They were both after all, grown and reasonable adults, and he was sure Bill would see things his way after a brief explanation.

Percy found himself settled into a seat and a bowl of soup settled in front of him, "Get that into you, they'll be rolls in a minute." And forgoing the oven, Bill used his wand to toast the insides of a roll for each of them(the only cooking spell he was reasonably good at-he still burned whatever he was toasting every four or five times, but comparatively, he was a pro), buttering them and handing one off to Percy at the table, wrapped in a napkin. "I'm out of cheese, sorry."

Percy stared at the roll cupped in his hand, warming his fingers, his mind drifting off to the last time Bill had pressed a buttered roll into his hand…

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