There When You Need Them
Title: There When You Need Them
Author: norsk_heksen
Requestor: amj84
Claim: #7: The Weasleys, Harry, and anyone who cares about Fred coping with his death after the final battle. Friendship, comfort, and grieving.
Rating: G
Pairings: Slight references to R/Hr, Bill/Fleur
Summary: Harry deals with the aftermath of the final battle, and George has a much worse time of it than him. Through the Weasleys, Harry learns the importance of family when it comes to grief.
Warnings: none
Author’s Notes: Sorry, I’m horrible with titles!
Harry walked around the grounds at Hogwarts. A collective memorial service had just ended, and for once a crowd was not gathering about him with praise, congratulations, thanks, or demands. Now, for better or for worse, he had time to reflect on his thoughts, and he was starting to doubt that it was for the better.
“Harry,” he heard a tentative voice say. He turned around to face his cleverest friend, Hermione.
“Hullo,” he responded.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah… sort of. It’s just surreal, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it feels like a horrible nightmare. And poor George….”
“Why aren’t you with the Weasleys, then?”
“I came to fetch you. Mrs Weasley’s worried about you, bless her heart.”
“I shouldn’t be there, with them. It’s-it’s a private-”
“Harry, we’re family too. After all we’ve been through, with Ron, and what we’ve done… this is something we should be there for, don’t you think? Even if we haven’t known F-” Hermione paused, hesitant to speak the name of one so newly dead - “Fred… all our lives.”
“Right… I s’pose.”
“And Harry, I know you, and this isn’t your fault. If anything, it’s your fault that it ended as soon as it did, and not with the annihilation of the entire English population. So, please Harry, don’t feel guilty. Just be here, with us, alright?”
Harry wasn’t sure he agreed, but he nodded as they walked over to join the Weasley clan.
Nothing seemed to be as it should. It was like the eye of a hurricane, eerily still and foreboding. Reality seemed to be trying to force itself upon everybody present, but to no avail. It was too big to grasp: the war was over, and Fred was dead. Harry wondered which was more unbelievable, and it occurred to him briefly that he may not be the only one. Grief and joy seemed to be struggling in every heart.
Ginny enveloped him in a hug, and Harry could not help but think of all that he could not do for her. He tried to be content with a simple embrace instead of healing her pain, a feat no more possible with magic than without.
Percy was sobbing, sniffing constantly on the sleeve of his robes. “I’m sorry, Fred,” Harry heard him whisper.
Charlie awkwardly patted Percy on the back and looked at his father, as if for guidance, but there was no relief to be had.
Ron clasped Hermione’s hand tightly, occasionally wiping away a tear of his own. Bill was holding Fleur-or perhaps it was Fleur who was holding Bill, it was difficult to tell-and both were silently weeping.
George stood, transfixed, as if hypnotized. His eyes were vacant. George without laughter or wit, that was to be expected, but George without anger, without emotion, that was terrifying. It somehow seemed more horrible than any Unforgivable, more frightening even than those cold red slits of malice that Harry had faced so recently. He had to look away.
Mrs Weasley grasped her son’s shoulder. “Oh Georgie, oh my poor Georgie!”
“We’re not children, mum,” he snapped, and added underneath his breath, “Yeah, why don’t you go check on ickle Ronniekins instead?” He continued in his normal voice, “Too right.”
The whole family looked at George in horror. Harry felt his heart drop to his feet.
Mrs Weasley, in her attempt to keep things normal, fought back her tears as best she could. “Let’s all go home,” she suggested. “I think we ought to go home.”
They all Apparated outside the Burrow, Mrs Weasley bringing along George by Side-Along. She rushed in first to make a fresh pot of tea. Harry was reminded of the time Ron suggested making a cup of tea because that’s what his mum did when someone was upset, and he bit back the inappropriate urge to laugh.
Everyone sat down with their tea silently, awkwardly. Once again, Mrs Weasley took charge to diffuse the tension in the air.
“Harry, dear, have you seen little Teddy yet? I’m sure Andromeda wouldn’t mind you stopping by. He is your godson, after all.”
Harry felt a fresh pang of sadness as he thought about Teddy’s parents. “No, I haven’t. I would like to, though. Maybe… maybe tomorrow.”
“Sounds lovely, dear.”
Suddenly, George set his cup down and stood up. “I’ve got to be going, Mum. The shop needs looking after.”
“The-?” Mrs Weasley looked at her son in shock. “Whatever do you mean, dear?”
“We’ve got a shop to run, haven’t we? Can’t just let it fall by the wayside cos of a… military victory…”
“Hold on, son,” Mr Weasley started. “You know you can let it go for a bit, in these circumstances. You need your family now more than you need your business, and I daresay your family needs you as well.”
“Dunno what you’re talking about, I’m fine. Really.”
“George, sit down,” Mr Weasley ordered.
George sat unconsciously.
“This is hard for all of us, son. I understand how it might be the hardest for you especially.”
“What’s so hard?” George responded as he rose from his chair again. “Voldy’s gone, now we get on with it all!”
“Sit,” Mr Weasley ordered again. “We do need to move on, but when you’ve lost someone you love so much, you need help doing that.”
“Lost?” George repeated.
“George, dear,” Mrs Weasley coaxed, but she couldn’t finish.
“George, Fred is gone,” Bill supplied. “You’ve got to accept it.”
“Gone, right,” he said. “He’s… in Spain… getting supplies….”
“He’s dead, son,” Mr Weasley said, his throat catching. “Please, George, you know this. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”
“He’s not-he’s not dead. How could Fred be dead while I’m alive?” He gave a high-pitched laugh, mirthless, with fear creeping in. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s ridiculous, but it’s true,” said Ginny softly. “Please, George.”
“No… no… NO!”
“George,” Hermione tried, “I know it’s painful, but just try. Try to remember what happened.”
George was silent for a second, seeming to focus on a fixed point in space. Slowly, he started shake, and his chin began to tremble.
“NO!” he screamed, and the sound was vaguely familiar to Harry, like the sound of his friends’ screams when they had thought he was dead.
George kept screaming as his mother hugged him tightly, and Harry felt like his heart was breaking for the hundredth time that week.
“Mummy,” George sobbed, “Mummy, I can’t do it. I can’t live without him.”
“I know it’s hard, love, but you can. You will. You’ll see. I’ll help you, love, we’ll all help you.”
“I’m half a person,” George whispered.
“No you’re not,” Mr Weasley responded. “You’re half a pair, but you’re a whole person, and you’ll carry a part of Fred with you, wherever you go.”
George continued sobbing but nodded.
“Let’s get you up to bed, love,” Mrs Weasley suggested, and she took her most bereaved son upstairs to get some rest.
Harry looked at Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys surrounding him in the kitchen of the Burrow, and he suddenly felt out of place.
“Don’t worry, mate,” Ron said while stroking Hermione’s thumb. “He’ll be alright.”
“Wouldn’t have expected any different,” Charlie said.
“We’ll all get through this,” said Mr Weasley. “Just as long as we’re there for each other.” He looked at Harry and Hermione. “You two as well, you’re as good as family. Please, stay as long as you like.”
Hermione looked at Ron. “Well, I am going to have to go to Australia to get my parents soon, but thank you, Mr Weasley. I really appreciate it.”
“I’ll stay as long as you’d like,” Harry said. “I couldn’t imagine any other place I’d stay.”
“Good. Now, I’m not as good a cook as my wife, but I do believe there are leftovers around here somewhere… Nothing like a home-cooked meal to make you feel better at a time like this.”
Harry sipped his tea. “Thank you, Mr Weasley. And I’m sorry, by the way…”
“Thank you, Harry. Please,” he said, magicking the food on the table, “tuck in.”
Harry obliged. It would take some time, yes… but they had each other. Now Harry could enjoy the Burrow without having to worry about putting the Weasleys in danger, and looking around at those he loved most-those that had survived-he trusted that, eventually, they would all find the happiness they sought in their lives.
Author: norsk_heksen
Requestor: amj84
Claim: #7: The Weasleys, Harry, and anyone who cares about Fred coping with his death after the final battle. Friendship, comfort, and grieving.
Rating: G
Pairings: Slight references to R/Hr, Bill/Fleur
Summary: Harry deals with the aftermath of the final battle, and George has a much worse time of it than him. Through the Weasleys, Harry learns the importance of family when it comes to grief.
Warnings: none
Author’s Notes: Sorry, I’m horrible with titles!
Harry walked around the grounds at Hogwarts. A collective memorial service had just ended, and for once a crowd was not gathering about him with praise, congratulations, thanks, or demands. Now, for better or for worse, he had time to reflect on his thoughts, and he was starting to doubt that it was for the better.
“Harry,” he heard a tentative voice say. He turned around to face his cleverest friend, Hermione.
“Hullo,” he responded.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah… sort of. It’s just surreal, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it feels like a horrible nightmare. And poor George….”
“Why aren’t you with the Weasleys, then?”
“I came to fetch you. Mrs Weasley’s worried about you, bless her heart.”
“I shouldn’t be there, with them. It’s-it’s a private-”
“Harry, we’re family too. After all we’ve been through, with Ron, and what we’ve done… this is something we should be there for, don’t you think? Even if we haven’t known F-” Hermione paused, hesitant to speak the name of one so newly dead - “Fred… all our lives.”
“Right… I s’pose.”
“And Harry, I know you, and this isn’t your fault. If anything, it’s your fault that it ended as soon as it did, and not with the annihilation of the entire English population. So, please Harry, don’t feel guilty. Just be here, with us, alright?”
Harry wasn’t sure he agreed, but he nodded as they walked over to join the Weasley clan.
Nothing seemed to be as it should. It was like the eye of a hurricane, eerily still and foreboding. Reality seemed to be trying to force itself upon everybody present, but to no avail. It was too big to grasp: the war was over, and Fred was dead. Harry wondered which was more unbelievable, and it occurred to him briefly that he may not be the only one. Grief and joy seemed to be struggling in every heart.
Ginny enveloped him in a hug, and Harry could not help but think of all that he could not do for her. He tried to be content with a simple embrace instead of healing her pain, a feat no more possible with magic than without.
Percy was sobbing, sniffing constantly on the sleeve of his robes. “I’m sorry, Fred,” Harry heard him whisper.
Charlie awkwardly patted Percy on the back and looked at his father, as if for guidance, but there was no relief to be had.
Ron clasped Hermione’s hand tightly, occasionally wiping away a tear of his own. Bill was holding Fleur-or perhaps it was Fleur who was holding Bill, it was difficult to tell-and both were silently weeping.
George stood, transfixed, as if hypnotized. His eyes were vacant. George without laughter or wit, that was to be expected, but George without anger, without emotion, that was terrifying. It somehow seemed more horrible than any Unforgivable, more frightening even than those cold red slits of malice that Harry had faced so recently. He had to look away.
Mrs Weasley grasped her son’s shoulder. “Oh Georgie, oh my poor Georgie!”
“We’re not children, mum,” he snapped, and added underneath his breath, “Yeah, why don’t you go check on ickle Ronniekins instead?” He continued in his normal voice, “Too right.”
The whole family looked at George in horror. Harry felt his heart drop to his feet.
Mrs Weasley, in her attempt to keep things normal, fought back her tears as best she could. “Let’s all go home,” she suggested. “I think we ought to go home.”
They all Apparated outside the Burrow, Mrs Weasley bringing along George by Side-Along. She rushed in first to make a fresh pot of tea. Harry was reminded of the time Ron suggested making a cup of tea because that’s what his mum did when someone was upset, and he bit back the inappropriate urge to laugh.
Everyone sat down with their tea silently, awkwardly. Once again, Mrs Weasley took charge to diffuse the tension in the air.
“Harry, dear, have you seen little Teddy yet? I’m sure Andromeda wouldn’t mind you stopping by. He is your godson, after all.”
Harry felt a fresh pang of sadness as he thought about Teddy’s parents. “No, I haven’t. I would like to, though. Maybe… maybe tomorrow.”
“Sounds lovely, dear.”
Suddenly, George set his cup down and stood up. “I’ve got to be going, Mum. The shop needs looking after.”
“The-?” Mrs Weasley looked at her son in shock. “Whatever do you mean, dear?”
“We’ve got a shop to run, haven’t we? Can’t just let it fall by the wayside cos of a… military victory…”
“Hold on, son,” Mr Weasley started. “You know you can let it go for a bit, in these circumstances. You need your family now more than you need your business, and I daresay your family needs you as well.”
“Dunno what you’re talking about, I’m fine. Really.”
“George, sit down,” Mr Weasley ordered.
George sat unconsciously.
“This is hard for all of us, son. I understand how it might be the hardest for you especially.”
“What’s so hard?” George responded as he rose from his chair again. “Voldy’s gone, now we get on with it all!”
“Sit,” Mr Weasley ordered again. “We do need to move on, but when you’ve lost someone you love so much, you need help doing that.”
“Lost?” George repeated.
“George, dear,” Mrs Weasley coaxed, but she couldn’t finish.
“George, Fred is gone,” Bill supplied. “You’ve got to accept it.”
“Gone, right,” he said. “He’s… in Spain… getting supplies….”
“He’s dead, son,” Mr Weasley said, his throat catching. “Please, George, you know this. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”
“He’s not-he’s not dead. How could Fred be dead while I’m alive?” He gave a high-pitched laugh, mirthless, with fear creeping in. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s ridiculous, but it’s true,” said Ginny softly. “Please, George.”
“No… no… NO!”
“George,” Hermione tried, “I know it’s painful, but just try. Try to remember what happened.”
George was silent for a second, seeming to focus on a fixed point in space. Slowly, he started shake, and his chin began to tremble.
“NO!” he screamed, and the sound was vaguely familiar to Harry, like the sound of his friends’ screams when they had thought he was dead.
George kept screaming as his mother hugged him tightly, and Harry felt like his heart was breaking for the hundredth time that week.
“Mummy,” George sobbed, “Mummy, I can’t do it. I can’t live without him.”
“I know it’s hard, love, but you can. You will. You’ll see. I’ll help you, love, we’ll all help you.”
“I’m half a person,” George whispered.
“No you’re not,” Mr Weasley responded. “You’re half a pair, but you’re a whole person, and you’ll carry a part of Fred with you, wherever you go.”
George continued sobbing but nodded.
“Let’s get you up to bed, love,” Mrs Weasley suggested, and she took her most bereaved son upstairs to get some rest.
Harry looked at Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys surrounding him in the kitchen of the Burrow, and he suddenly felt out of place.
“Don’t worry, mate,” Ron said while stroking Hermione’s thumb. “He’ll be alright.”
“Wouldn’t have expected any different,” Charlie said.
“We’ll all get through this,” said Mr Weasley. “Just as long as we’re there for each other.” He looked at Harry and Hermione. “You two as well, you’re as good as family. Please, stay as long as you like.”
Hermione looked at Ron. “Well, I am going to have to go to Australia to get my parents soon, but thank you, Mr Weasley. I really appreciate it.”
“I’ll stay as long as you’d like,” Harry said. “I couldn’t imagine any other place I’d stay.”
“Good. Now, I’m not as good a cook as my wife, but I do believe there are leftovers around here somewhere… Nothing like a home-cooked meal to make you feel better at a time like this.”
Harry sipped his tea. “Thank you, Mr Weasley. And I’m sorry, by the way…”
“Thank you, Harry. Please,” he said, magicking the food on the table, “tuck in.”
Harry obliged. It would take some time, yes… but they had each other. Now Harry could enjoy the Burrow without having to worry about putting the Weasleys in danger, and looking around at those he loved most-those that had survived-he trusted that, eventually, they would all find the happiness they sought in their lives.