More Fic. DH SPOILERS "Getting Ready" (gen, ouchy)
Title: Getting Ready
Rating: G/gen
Characters: All Weasleys
Words: 8x100--8 drabbles that go in a row
Summary: Each Weasley brings something a little different to Fred's funeral
A/N: Yes, seriously, I think I have broken some sort of personal ouchiness record for the week.
Getting Ready
1.
The plot has stood ready for months. The paths are clear, weed-free, straighter than anything else they own. It was initially prepared for Alastor (because he was one of their own), but he hasn't told Molly he's been keeping it ready. Needing it was only a matter of time.
He's hoped it would be him. Or even--and he closes his eyes as he thinks it, because it feels like betrayal, even Molly. He knows it would have hurt all their children, blood or spirit, but burying a parent is the way of the world. Burying a child is not.
2.
Bill is old enough to remember. He was eight, when they were born, identical and always refusing to part. He remembers taking one up from the cradle when Mum took the other so they could eat together. Bathe together. Burble at each other on the changing table.
He knows there are twins in both lines of his family. Loads of twins. Irrationally, he hopes he and Fleur never have any, because he can't imagine ever having to watch one cope without the other again.
If his mother couldn't prevent this, no one could. He grips Fleur's hand and Apparates home.
3.
Charlie can't stop moving. The kitchen couldn’t possibly be cleaner, and yet, he's running an old rag over the surfaces again, wiping away imaginary dirt by hand over and over, staring.
He lifts the salt and pepper to wipe under them, then sets the salt back down. He holds the pepper a moment longer, looking at the salt, alone and forlorn. That, he can fix.
The table shines.
The counter sparkles.
The floor is immaculate.
None of it means a fucking thing, but sitting still has never been especially tolerable to Charlie.
It'd be even better if it actually helped.
4.
A day. A week. A month. A year. Two years.
Percy could have come home any time. Any time. His mother would have held him close, and he'd have been uncomfortable as hell, and there would have been good wine and something special and too rich for afters, and he wouldn’t have known what to say, but he could have done it.
And the twins would have given him nine kinds of shit for every stupid thing he'd ever done.
Percy has an excellent vocabulary, and there is no word for how badly he wishes he could have heard it.
5.
George looks in the mirror.
It asks the obvious question, and he snarls and Silences it with his wand, Summoned from the bed, and it shatters.
Reparo puts it back together, but he's not in the best frame of mind for concentration, and the cracks still show.
"Bad day, dearie?" it asks. It doesn't remember the previous conversation, apparently.
He scowls, but can't explain, so he transfigures a handkerchief and covers it. "The worst," he whispers. He straightens his tie by feel, then sits on the bed, staring at the wand in his hand.
It's Fred's.
He doesn't trade back.
6.
Ron wakes up with Hermione beside him, which probably Mum would have something to say about, but she's distracted and it isn't as though there's much chance Hermione would let him do anything disrespectful anyway.
Not that what he has in mind regarding Hermione is disrespectful, honestly, but that's neither here nor there.
He stares at all the robes in his wardrobe, then fingers the dreadful one from the Yule Ball.
It doesn't fit, but it would have given Fred a laugh, so he asks Hermione to help him transfigure it.
It's still dreadful, but he's proud to wear it.
7.
Ginny's up early.
The bruise on her shoulder is painful, but she gets dressed and goes to tap on Harry's door.
"Hmm?" he says, blinking at her through the glasses he's just put on before he kicks off the sheet and sits up.
"Do me a favor?"
He's up in a minute, running a hand through his hair before he Apparates her Side-Along to Diagon Alley. He's not entirely sure Molly will like the notion of Weasley fireworks at the funeral, but he's damn sure Fred would.
He decides he'll warn her, just to be sure, when Ginny isn't looking.
8.
Molly hears the crash of the mirror upstairs and the crack of Apparition away, but she knows there's no trouble. She knows because she has the clock in her lap, the face open wide as it hasn't been in nearly seventeen years.
First, she removes Ginny's hand, then Ron's, then George's. She sets them all aside. Fred's is harder to remove; it's frozen dark in place. Finally it's done and she replaces the rest.
She closes the glass, rehangs the clock, and takes the hand into the sitting room.
She can't keep it, silent, so it will go with him.
Rating: G/gen
Characters: All Weasleys
Words: 8x100--8 drabbles that go in a row
Summary: Each Weasley brings something a little different to Fred's funeral
A/N: Yes, seriously, I think I have broken some sort of personal ouchiness record for the week.
Getting Ready
1.
The plot has stood ready for months. The paths are clear, weed-free, straighter than anything else they own. It was initially prepared for Alastor (because he was one of their own), but he hasn't told Molly he's been keeping it ready. Needing it was only a matter of time.
He's hoped it would be him. Or even--and he closes his eyes as he thinks it, because it feels like betrayal, even Molly. He knows it would have hurt all their children, blood or spirit, but burying a parent is the way of the world. Burying a child is not.
2.
Bill is old enough to remember. He was eight, when they were born, identical and always refusing to part. He remembers taking one up from the cradle when Mum took the other so they could eat together. Bathe together. Burble at each other on the changing table.
He knows there are twins in both lines of his family. Loads of twins. Irrationally, he hopes he and Fleur never have any, because he can't imagine ever having to watch one cope without the other again.
If his mother couldn't prevent this, no one could. He grips Fleur's hand and Apparates home.
3.
Charlie can't stop moving. The kitchen couldn’t possibly be cleaner, and yet, he's running an old rag over the surfaces again, wiping away imaginary dirt by hand over and over, staring.
He lifts the salt and pepper to wipe under them, then sets the salt back down. He holds the pepper a moment longer, looking at the salt, alone and forlorn. That, he can fix.
The table shines.
The counter sparkles.
The floor is immaculate.
None of it means a fucking thing, but sitting still has never been especially tolerable to Charlie.
It'd be even better if it actually helped.
4.
A day. A week. A month. A year. Two years.
Percy could have come home any time. Any time. His mother would have held him close, and he'd have been uncomfortable as hell, and there would have been good wine and something special and too rich for afters, and he wouldn’t have known what to say, but he could have done it.
And the twins would have given him nine kinds of shit for every stupid thing he'd ever done.
Percy has an excellent vocabulary, and there is no word for how badly he wishes he could have heard it.
5.
George looks in the mirror.
It asks the obvious question, and he snarls and Silences it with his wand, Summoned from the bed, and it shatters.
Reparo puts it back together, but he's not in the best frame of mind for concentration, and the cracks still show.
"Bad day, dearie?" it asks. It doesn't remember the previous conversation, apparently.
He scowls, but can't explain, so he transfigures a handkerchief and covers it. "The worst," he whispers. He straightens his tie by feel, then sits on the bed, staring at the wand in his hand.
It's Fred's.
He doesn't trade back.
6.
Ron wakes up with Hermione beside him, which probably Mum would have something to say about, but she's distracted and it isn't as though there's much chance Hermione would let him do anything disrespectful anyway.
Not that what he has in mind regarding Hermione is disrespectful, honestly, but that's neither here nor there.
He stares at all the robes in his wardrobe, then fingers the dreadful one from the Yule Ball.
It doesn't fit, but it would have given Fred a laugh, so he asks Hermione to help him transfigure it.
It's still dreadful, but he's proud to wear it.
7.
Ginny's up early.
The bruise on her shoulder is painful, but she gets dressed and goes to tap on Harry's door.
"Hmm?" he says, blinking at her through the glasses he's just put on before he kicks off the sheet and sits up.
"Do me a favor?"
He's up in a minute, running a hand through his hair before he Apparates her Side-Along to Diagon Alley. He's not entirely sure Molly will like the notion of Weasley fireworks at the funeral, but he's damn sure Fred would.
He decides he'll warn her, just to be sure, when Ginny isn't looking.
8.
Molly hears the crash of the mirror upstairs and the crack of Apparition away, but she knows there's no trouble. She knows because she has the clock in her lap, the face open wide as it hasn't been in nearly seventeen years.
First, she removes Ginny's hand, then Ron's, then George's. She sets them all aside. Fred's is harder to remove; it's frozen dark in place. Finally it's done and she replaces the rest.
She closes the glass, rehangs the clock, and takes the hand into the sitting room.
She can't keep it, silent, so it will go with him.