Fic: Pensieve
Title: Pensieve
Author: pinkhairedauror
Format & Word Count: Ficlet, 784 words
Rating: PG
Prompt: 14: Spain
Warning: Sadness.
Summary: Teddy actually realises, truly, what the words he's heard all his life about his parents being gone mean.
Author's Note: Ah... This may be brushing at the edge of R/T (although I think it very much applies). If you think it's not right for this challenge, let me know and I'll pull it out.
Also, many thanks to the writer for theirteddy for giving it a quick read/beta. <3
The stars are dead
Teddy had always known his parents were gone, that they were dead, but it had been just a part of the world which was strange and full of things to explore anyway. It was just a fact, and he never comprehended what that meant.
He was always surrounded by pictures of them, and once he had been shown a 'pensieve' of them, which had been very strange, but he had kind of liked it, being someplace else. Seeing them in their normal height, hearing their voices. They had sounded oddly... both familiar and not.
And then there was an afternoon when little James fell and scraped his knee, and ran on his chubby legs towards Auntie Ginny, crying 'mummy', and both her and his Gran Molly hugged him and kissed him better. And uncle Harry made a quick spell, and the scrape was mostly healed.
Now, truth was that uncle Harry had made that quick thing many times. And that his own Gran had kissed him better many times too.
But for some reason, this day it actually dawned to Teddy what he didn't have.
He was very quiet for the rest of his visit, and when he returned home, for the first time in his (admittedly, not very long) life, he walked to the bottom of the garden just for the purpose to see the two mounds there.
The two graves.
We are left alone with our day
Teddy sat on the ground between the two mounds, his knees drawn up and tucked under his chin, his eyes moving from the one to the other memorial.
There wasn't very much space between the two, actually. He thought how, while it had once been plenty of space for him to sit when his gran had taken him there through the years, now he was actually sitting partly on the edges of the graves.
He could... he saw them, in his mind's eye. On the photographs that were always moving - his father more slowly, with more dignity (most of the time, there was that one picture where it almost seemed to him that she'd made his father start after her to catch her for some reason; it was among Teddy's favourites), his mother bouncing the way he always did himself when excited, though there was also a caution to her movement. Well, not when she was tripping. Even the photographs of her were tripping all over the place. There were two like that in his room, and several more on the walls in the living room. On one she actually fell down and his father helped her up; and on another she almost did, her belly distended, and he caught her.
She always laughed.
Teddy himself sometimes almost wanted to cry when he tripped and fell. Like James had cried, earlier.
He recalled the time he was looking into the silvery water of the pensieve.
He'd heard his mother calling his name, even though he'd also been seeing the baby at the time, and knew she was calling to the him in the crib, and not to him who was bigger. She'd picked the baby up and held him.
Teddy couldn't recall the feeling of that hug. He'd been too little. Such a tiny baby. Littler than Al was now even.
And his dad had come in, looking tired, but he had smiled and walked to his mum and him, and hugged them both. She had smiled up at his face, and he had leaned and kissed her hair, than run his thumb, so gently, along the baby's forehead.
Teddy lifted his hand to his forehead.
He didn't recall that touch.
His mum's hair had changed colour, growing a bit brighter then. They'd stayed like that for a moment, then the baby had started fussing, even crying a little, and his mum had laughed and looked at his gran, sitting in her armchair close to the crib; he knew that armchair.
That was all there was to that pensieve.
It had been Uncle Harry's idea to show it to him, and while Teddy'd thought it awesome, he hadn't gotten the Big Point (most of the things that Uncle Harry did had good reasons behind them, and Teddy loved it when he could get them!)
And now he did understand.
His parents were gone. Their touches... their presence...
This day, or any other day, he'd not know them.
But maybe there were more memories to be seen in that way. He'd go and ask Gran.
He'd go... in a bit. When he stopped wondering if they liked the place they were resting now. When he stopped wanting to ask them questions, because they were not ... here.
When his eyes stopped stinging.
History ... may say Alas but cannot help...
Author: pinkhairedauror
Format & Word Count: Ficlet, 784 words
Rating: PG
Prompt: 14: Spain
Warning: Sadness.
Summary: Teddy actually realises, truly, what the words he's heard all his life about his parents being gone mean.
Author's Note: Ah... This may be brushing at the edge of R/T (although I think it very much applies). If you think it's not right for this challenge, let me know and I'll pull it out.
Also, many thanks to the writer for theirteddy for giving it a quick read/beta. <3
The stars are dead
Teddy had always known his parents were gone, that they were dead, but it had been just a part of the world which was strange and full of things to explore anyway. It was just a fact, and he never comprehended what that meant.
He was always surrounded by pictures of them, and once he had been shown a 'pensieve' of them, which had been very strange, but he had kind of liked it, being someplace else. Seeing them in their normal height, hearing their voices. They had sounded oddly... both familiar and not.
And then there was an afternoon when little James fell and scraped his knee, and ran on his chubby legs towards Auntie Ginny, crying 'mummy', and both her and his Gran Molly hugged him and kissed him better. And uncle Harry made a quick spell, and the scrape was mostly healed.
Now, truth was that uncle Harry had made that quick thing many times. And that his own Gran had kissed him better many times too.
But for some reason, this day it actually dawned to Teddy what he didn't have.
He was very quiet for the rest of his visit, and when he returned home, for the first time in his (admittedly, not very long) life, he walked to the bottom of the garden just for the purpose to see the two mounds there.
The two graves.
We are left alone with our day
Teddy sat on the ground between the two mounds, his knees drawn up and tucked under his chin, his eyes moving from the one to the other memorial.
There wasn't very much space between the two, actually. He thought how, while it had once been plenty of space for him to sit when his gran had taken him there through the years, now he was actually sitting partly on the edges of the graves.
He could... he saw them, in his mind's eye. On the photographs that were always moving - his father more slowly, with more dignity (most of the time, there was that one picture where it almost seemed to him that she'd made his father start after her to catch her for some reason; it was among Teddy's favourites), his mother bouncing the way he always did himself when excited, though there was also a caution to her movement. Well, not when she was tripping. Even the photographs of her were tripping all over the place. There were two like that in his room, and several more on the walls in the living room. On one she actually fell down and his father helped her up; and on another she almost did, her belly distended, and he caught her.
She always laughed.
Teddy himself sometimes almost wanted to cry when he tripped and fell. Like James had cried, earlier.
He recalled the time he was looking into the silvery water of the pensieve.
He'd heard his mother calling his name, even though he'd also been seeing the baby at the time, and knew she was calling to the him in the crib, and not to him who was bigger. She'd picked the baby up and held him.
Teddy couldn't recall the feeling of that hug. He'd been too little. Such a tiny baby. Littler than Al was now even.
And his dad had come in, looking tired, but he had smiled and walked to his mum and him, and hugged them both. She had smiled up at his face, and he had leaned and kissed her hair, than run his thumb, so gently, along the baby's forehead.
Teddy lifted his hand to his forehead.
He didn't recall that touch.
His mum's hair had changed colour, growing a bit brighter then. They'd stayed like that for a moment, then the baby had started fussing, even crying a little, and his mum had laughed and looked at his gran, sitting in her armchair close to the crib; he knew that armchair.
That was all there was to that pensieve.
It had been Uncle Harry's idea to show it to him, and while Teddy'd thought it awesome, he hadn't gotten the Big Point (most of the things that Uncle Harry did had good reasons behind them, and Teddy loved it when he could get them!)
And now he did understand.
His parents were gone. Their touches... their presence...
This day, or any other day, he'd not know them.
But maybe there were more memories to be seen in that way. He'd go and ask Gran.
He'd go... in a bit. When he stopped wondering if they liked the place they were resting now. When he stopped wanting to ask them questions, because they were not ... here.
When his eyes stopped stinging.
History ... may say Alas but cannot help...