"Great. There are what? Three of us?" Harry might have been a bit bitter himself, and didn't ask before simply plopping down in a chair at Percy's kitchen table. "I'm sorry you're having trouble too."
Of course, it wasn't lost on Harry that Percy was speaking to him, despite the knowledge that it would probably only make his situation that much worse at work. A short decade ago, Percy had been the one to tell Ron not to associate with him on the grounds that it would be bad for his reputation, and now here he was, gambling even more away. He had to be just about as pressed for companionship as Harry was.
He didn't know what to say, where to start. Launching off into a 'nobody understands me' just didn't seem right, and anyway, Percy had to know how that felt. They were in the same boat, except that one of them had only helped plan, while the other had been forced to actually do it. Still. Harry was sure Percy understood as well as Ron did, and that it couldn't be easy for him either. So he was silent, sitting in Percy's kitchen and staring blankly at the paper cup holding the disgusting sludge the Ministry liked to call coffee, and took comfort in the fact that, for the moment at least, he wasn't alone.