(no subject)
Who: Arthur Weasley
Where: Order HQ
When: 30th October, 2001
Status: Complete
Arthur had not slept.
He'd been subconsciously counting down the days again, he knew - and now it had come, he couldn't bring himself to be restful. For as much as Arthur knew that this day was one of celebration, and that it should continue to be so, he did not have all the willpower in the world - and that is what it would have taken for him to cope. Instead he did not sleep for all of the night, spending the small hours sitting before an ever-waning fire, twisting an old and broken watch around his wrist.
Arthur's time for grief was long gone, he knew this - it was not grief that drove him to distraction now, as he continued to stare the hours away into the embers. It was as if he were stuck in limbo - unable to leave her, unable to go to his children as he should do, unable to climb a staircase that seemed suddenly more like a mountain than it ever had done before. It was not that it felt like betrayal - Arthur knew Molly would want him to move on, and he struggled with every fibre of his being to do so.
He just didn't have it in him.
The day turned into a series of actions, nothing continuous, fragments of living. Toast, buttered, crusts thrown to the pidgeons. Out to the garden and picking flowers that would never be held. Whispering names that would never fall on the most welcome of ears again. Wandering aimlessly, on and on, along a path that had become invisible with death. A path that was at once there and not there - at once impossible and unattainable - at once with him, at once afar. She was his guide. She had seen the way, and though she had not taken him by the hand and led him down, she was the light that let him place his feet one after the other towards his life.
Now he had to find that within himself, and Arthur had frozen half in fear and half in lack of knowledge. He was simply treading his way through the fog, hoping that someone would come forward and bring him a torch to light his way. He clutched the flowers to his chest, breaking the stems. No one was coming. No one was coming.
They were all falling further away from him.
Where: Order HQ
When: 30th October, 2001
Status: Complete
Arthur had not slept.
He'd been subconsciously counting down the days again, he knew - and now it had come, he couldn't bring himself to be restful. For as much as Arthur knew that this day was one of celebration, and that it should continue to be so, he did not have all the willpower in the world - and that is what it would have taken for him to cope. Instead he did not sleep for all of the night, spending the small hours sitting before an ever-waning fire, twisting an old and broken watch around his wrist.
Arthur's time for grief was long gone, he knew this - it was not grief that drove him to distraction now, as he continued to stare the hours away into the embers. It was as if he were stuck in limbo - unable to leave her, unable to go to his children as he should do, unable to climb a staircase that seemed suddenly more like a mountain than it ever had done before. It was not that it felt like betrayal - Arthur knew Molly would want him to move on, and he struggled with every fibre of his being to do so.
He just didn't have it in him.
The day turned into a series of actions, nothing continuous, fragments of living. Toast, buttered, crusts thrown to the pidgeons. Out to the garden and picking flowers that would never be held. Whispering names that would never fall on the most welcome of ears again. Wandering aimlessly, on and on, along a path that had become invisible with death. A path that was at once there and not there - at once impossible and unattainable - at once with him, at once afar. She was his guide. She had seen the way, and though she had not taken him by the hand and led him down, she was the light that let him place his feet one after the other towards his life.
Now he had to find that within himself, and Arthur had frozen half in fear and half in lack of knowledge. He was simply treading his way through the fog, hoping that someone would come forward and bring him a torch to light his way. He clutched the flowers to his chest, breaking the stems. No one was coming. No one was coming.
They were all falling further away from him.