Percy let out a harsh laugh, "Piss off George. Say you're brill and let Fred go down in flames? Oh I don't doubt you'd like that. But say, what's this? Your shop help is off limits, is she? Or are we speaking of rabid shagging of every person wittle Fred meets?"
Percy watched the whiskey pour out and gave a small sigh and a bit of shrug as his shoulders dropped more, "Dad brassed is hard to take. I'd rather take ten times the shit from you two then the look of disappointment I've had to stomach all of these years, and the stern tone I expect I'm gonna get from him. I don't know...," he said, and he stopped, and turned his head sharper at Fred's words.
"Like hell I'm moving home! I've got a nice place of my own," and he paused, ready to accept a glass himself, "Which I expect you two will be visiting soon. And Ginny, I hope," and he stopped as his face grew grave again, "Ron. Do we know if Ron's well? I mean, the clock? Does it still say he's in mortal peril?"