Title: Would You Know My Name?

Author: Ravenclawgrrl

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, JK Rowling does and I stand to make no profit from the posting of this story.

Summary: How exactly does Arthur feel about the fight he had with Percy? Set Christmas Day of OotP - just my random and depressed musings. The title comes from the song "Tears in Heaven" by Eric Clapton and I don't own that either.

Would You Know My Name?

Christmas Day 1995

The nurse looked up from her magazine at the visitor padding softly down the hall towards her. He hesitated at the door to the Closed Ward. She looked up at the clock, then called quietly to him, "Can I help you, sir?"

He smiled charmingly at her and wrapped the hospital robe a little more tightly about himself. He seemed awfully pale and weak himself. The man was clearly another patient, away from his room. "Sir, should you be out of bed? Can I get someone to help you back to your ward?"

He gave her that disarming little smile again and said, "I'd like to visit an old friend if I may."

She pursed her lips and shook her head just a little. "I'm sorry, sir, but it's long past visiting hours."

"Oh, I won't stay but a moment. And if he's asleep then I promise I won't wake him. It's just that I haven't seen him, seen Frank , that is, for a long while now and-" his voice trailed off.

"Mr. Longbottom?" The nurse frowned. "He's already had quite a few visitors this afternoon. I wouldn't want to over-tire him."

"Please? It's Christmas. " Arthur asked and his face seemed so kind and earnest that she just couldn't say no.

"All right then, but don't tax him. Or yourself either. Can't have you collapsing yourself in my ward. Happy Christmas, then, sir," she said smiling as she held the door open for him. "Straight on back, his bed is on the left, beyond the curtain."

Arthur thanked her and then stood a moment waiting to hear the door close behind him. It had been such a long time. He really shouldn't have let so much time go past but - he had. It seemed hard to believe that it had been thirteen years. So much had happened in that time. So much had happened that Frank had missed out on. Arthur sighed and squared his shoulders, wincing just a little from his own injuries. He walked softly to the back of the ward and pulled the curtain aside.

Alice was asleep in the bed on the right. Her face seemed smooth and peaceful in slumber but her hair was nearly white. It was shocking to Arthur. She had been such a pretty girl. He grinned remembering the first time Frank had told him and Molly just who he was seeing.

August 1977

"She's your student!" Molly laughed at him and swatted him playfully on the shoulder. "Frank Longbottom, you are a dirty old man!"

Frank ducked and grinned then grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, kissing her on the top of the head, "Only because you're taken, Molly, my love." Molly whooped with delight as Arthur issued a mock-stern 'watch it' from across the kitchen. "Besides, she's more like a graduate student. She's an Auror-in-Training. And…" he added with a twinkle in his eye, "despite whatever lurid tales you may have heard from my alleged best friend over there, she's eighteen. I am not robbing the cradle at all."

"But…but... she was in school with Bill!" Molly continued.

"Molly, she was a seventh year, when he was a first year. It's not like they're classmates!" Frank feigned indignation.

"But eighteen, honestly Frank, don't you think that's a little young?"

Frank snorted. "Oh really? Well, if a certain couple of *seventeen* year olds I remember had realized they were a 'little young' for love then Bill wouldn't be running around here, now would he?"

Molly pinked prettily and the three of them laughed but their conversation was been cut short by the sound of Bill and Charlie roaring through the kitchen, broomsticks and Quidditch gear in tow as they headed out to the backyard. "Not so loud!" Molly hissed as the door slammed behind them. "You'll wake the baby," she added forlornly as they heard a wail from upstairs.

"Don't worry, love, I'll check on him," Frank said, rising from the chair he was sitting in at the kitchen table. "Besides," he said, winking over the top of her head at Arthur, "don't you think you're getting a bit big to be trudging up and down these stairs?"

Molly gave a mock shriek as she whirled on him, but he was already halfway up the stairs laughing and calling up to the crying child, "Hush, Percy, Uncle Frank is coming."

Arthur sighed. That had been a big day for them all, a happy day. It was the day Frank told them about Alice and the day Molly told him that this time it was going to be twins. There had been a lot of happy days back then, he thought to himself.

He turned to look at the bed on his left and winced. Frank Longbottom, his very best friend in the world, lay there looking impossibly thin and pale. It seemed as though Arthur was glued to the spot, afraid to move, afraid to speak, afraid to breathe. Perhaps if he stared at the scene long enough he could will it to go away. But he realized the futility of that wish and instead forced his feet, step by step over to the bedside, drawing up a chair to sit down beside him.

Frank's eyes were open, but staring blankly at the ceiling. "Hello there, Frank," Arthur said in a falsely cheery voice. "Happy Christmas."

He wondered what kind of a reaction he expected. He knew, had heard, of the severity of Frank's condition, how completely withdrawn and unreachable he was. Intellectually he understood the medical and magical necessity of this state – it was preferable to him living with the memory and aftereffects of the tortures he had endured. But still, to see it unimproved even after all these years was chilling. He had expected something – a blink, a slight turning of the head at the sound of his voice, just anything acknowledging his presence. There was nothing.

"I'm, ah, sorry it's been such a long time, Frank-" his voice trailed off. What in the world had he been thinking, coming here this evening. He cast his gaze around the room, struggling with the urge to bolt for the door. A glint of silver from a small picture from caught his eye. He reached over and picked it up.

Ginny grinned and waved, looking very pretty in her dress robes. Neville stood stiffly, almost at attention, with his arm awkwardly around Ginny's waist. Arthur smiled as he remembered how excited she had been about the Yule Ball last year. He blinked back tears. He knew that there must be a very similar picture back at the Burrow, but Molly must have thoughtfully hidden it away. The one he had displayed on his desk at work was simply of Ginny in her formal robes. He reached out to gently touch Neville's face in the picture. It was hard to believe how much the boy favored his father.

August 1, 1980

"Does it ever stop, Arthur?" Frank asked, holding the tiny boy in his arms.

"Does what ever stop?"

"This feeling…like you haven't lived before now…like you never knew what the world was like until this little one showed up and now you have to know all about it so that you can teach him about it, too. These last few days, it's like being on a roller coaster. It's fun, it's exciting, but sometimes I think I'm scared out of my mind. I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

Arthur looked at his friend drunk on new-fatherhood. He grinned at him and answered, "None of us ever do. And no, it doesn't stop. Not with the first one, or the second, or the third, or the fourth, fifth, sixth, or…."

Frank glanced away from his infant son and demanded, "or what?"

"Or with the seventh one," Arthur said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Seventh!"

Arthur snickered.

"Good God, man, you're a goat! How old is Ron now anyway? When's Molly due?"

Arthur knocked back his drink. "Ron is five months old now. Molly's due the end of March, early April."

"Well! Well! Congratulations! Are you two ever going to stop?"

"Thank you," Arthur replied. "I reckon we'll stop when we get a girl - or a full Quidditch team."

Arthur refilled his glass and then said quietly to his friend. "Enjoy this time, Frank. Don't let Crouch pressure you into returning to work too quickly. And when you do go back, watch yourself. Don't try and save the world singlehandedly." Arthur reached over and tickled the tiny baby under the chin. "Can't have him growing up without his Dad, can we?"

Frank didn't answer. Arthur hesitated then broached another subject with his friend. "So, what does your mother think of him?"

"Hmm? Oh, she looked him over once and pronounced him 'fit.' That's high praise coming from her, I'd say." Frank shook his head and laughed.

"He's growing up to be a fine lad, Frank, a fine lad indeed," Arthur mused, replacing the picture frame on the nightstand. "They all are, Frank. The boys that is, they're all growing up to be fine young men."

"Neville, there, he took Ginny to the Yule Ball last year. I reckon he told you all about it. She was floating on a cloud, she was. I'll have to keep an eye on him if he's anything like you were in school. That's my little girl, we're talking about," he tried to chuckle but the room was too quiet and sterile and the sound died in his throat.

"Bill, he got a job as a Cursebreaker at Gringott's. Did you know he was Head Boy? Do you remember how he used to polish that Prefect's badge of his? Well, you should have seen him when he got the Head Boy badge! He was insufferable – nearly drove poor Charlie insane. I can't imagine anyone being so inordinately pleased with themselves, can you?"

This time, a small laugh did manage to escape Arthur. He thought back fondly to the numerous incidents where Frank or Molly had enchanted *his* Head Boy badge to display scandalous phrases.

"And Charlie's in Romania now, working with dragons. He couldn't make it home for Christmas this year. It's a little hard on Molly – not having everyone together that is -" Arthur's voice trailed off.

"The twins, now, Molly's had her hands full with them. I should say so. They're high-spirited lads, that much is certain, but good boys. What's that phrase – 'march to the beat of a different drummer?' That they certainly do. They certainly do-"

"Ron's been made Gryffindor Prefect this year. Did Neville tell you that? Can you believe it - Neville and Ron classmates – in their fifth year at Hogwart's. It's hard to imagine, isn't it?" Arthur nodded his head as if acknowledging a comment from Frank.

"And you can tell by the picture, Ginny's growing up, too. She's just as pretty as her mother. It's a hard thing, I tell you, Frank, for a father to watch his little girl grow up. A hard thing indeed -"

Arthur stopped and looked down at his hands. He studied his fingernails for the longest time as if he found them vastly interesting. After a few moments he looked back over at Frank who was still staring blankly at the ceiling. Arthur cleared his throat and continued.

"And Percy, well, I'm right proud of him, too, Frank. I am. I expect he doesn't believe that right now, though. You see we've had a bit of a tiff," Arthur paused.

"You remember how it was, Frank, to be nineteen and cock-of-the-walk? I know you do. He's just got a bit of growing up to do, that's all. Percy will come around. You'll see. Just give him time. Just a bit more time is all he needs."

"He's worked hard, that he has. He deserves a good job. It's just that - it's just that I hate to see Fudge *use* him like that. I tried to explain it to him but he just wouldn't listen. But then again, when's a boy ever listened to their Dad, eh, Frank?" Once again he nodded at a non-existent comment from his friend.

"You see, we never had a speck of trouble of out Percy. Not a bit. And for him to stand there and look me in the eye like he did and say *No* - well, now, I just wasn't expecting it. I wasn't prepared for it, you see. If it had been Bill, or the twins – those boys are just born to go against authority. But not Percy, not my Percy. I'm afraid I - I yelled at him. Twenty-nine years, Frank, I've been a father and I have never shouted at my children, not once. Left all that to Molly." Arthur drew in a long breath then let it out slowly before continuing.

"And do you know what he did? He yelled back. He told me what he thought of me, my job, my house. And it made me angry – so very angry - at myself. He said such hateful things and all I could think of was how could I have been so blind? How could I have been so stupid? My boy had all this anger inside of him and I never knew it. There was a stranger in my house, yelling at me. My little boy was a complete stranger and I - I had taken him for granted all these years."

"So what did I do? I shouted at him again. I told him that it that's how he felt that he could just leave. And - he did. And now he's gone."

Arthur searched around the room and Accio'd a tissue, then made a great motion of wiping his glasses clean. If Frank had been looking at him, he would have seen Arthur wiping his eyes before replacing his glasses and adjusting them and whispering, "And you're gone too, you bloody great dolt. And I really wish you weren't because I'd like to talk it over with you."