Everlasting
Ink lines his arms. People in the street stare at him not with wonder, but with disgust, their voice creeping into his head, their nasty comments wounding him more than any war ever could. He supposes that he is a wondrous sight, what with his numerous tattoos and the never-healing scars lining his face. He has to say, despite it all, despite the comments and looks, he loves his tattoos. They cover his entire body, and he looks quite like a freak; but he loves it all the same. It represents rebellion. Freedom. Not being chained anymore. His tattoos represent all the wasted years, everything that was lost.
Everyone that was lost.
And he knows, even though the whispered comments hurt him more than anyone would ever know, he can look at his family, and find love there.
Victorie tenderly traces what he considers his most meaningful tattoo softly, her hair pulled tight into an elastic, her legs pumping as she squirms in his lap. He grasps her hand, making her giggle, a smile lining her pale lips. "Yes, darling. That one was for you," he says. His eyes start to water at the lie, and he blinks away the tears, forcing a smile onto his face. He would never forget the second of May.
That day, he lost something more dearly than the tattoos on his body or the Galleons in his account.
That day, he lost his brother.
Fred will always be the one thing the pulls him out of the pain. His face is the one he sees when the needle is thrumming against his skin, and pain is so bad he just wants to scream.
oh please just let me scream
He leaves the parlour happy, a smile on his face.
"Fredrick Gideon Weasley," Victoire reads out, her blue eyes squinted up in confusion, her small hands tightly around his neck. He glances down, a smile on his lips. There, across his heart, is an everlasting reminder of what was lost in the war, and what price they all paid.
Fred will live forever through the black ink eternally etched onto his skin.
It doesn't matter how much it hurts, how painful it is. He would go through anything for any one of his siblings. He just wishes he could have been there, wishes he could have taken the pain from Fred, wishes he could have been the one to have died, not Fred.
Fleur winds her hand around his as they cross the street, heading into London.
-your on my heart, just like a tattoo
Eee! Love tattooed Bill! Okay, now, back to the land of sane. Reviews are love, as always! :)