"Peace"
By: Jean Lyons
It's been a few weeks since the war ended. Mrs. Weasley is really having a hard time of it. They all are. I am, too. Fred was my friend. But I think she and George are taking it hardest. It's only natural. Look at George, for example. Imagine seeing a face exactly like your own dead on the ground. Fred had been his best friend. He and Lee Jordan stuck together during the funeral. One third of their trio was gone forever. I tried to imagine how it would be if it were Ron or Hermione and I definitely empathize. We've all lost loved ones. Andromeda Tonks was wailing more than anyone at the service for Lupin and Tonks. I finally had to take Teddy away from her because I was scared she'd drop him. What kind of godfather would I be if I let that happen? But Fred's was one of the more difficult deaths to deal with. The Weasleys are the closest thing to a family I have, so losing Fred was almost like losing a brother. But Mrs. Weasley hasn't managed to stop crying since it finally set in that her son was gone. George stays away because Mrs. Weasley can seem to be able to look at him. He can't stand the fact that he's such a reminder of his brother because most people can't look at him and if they can look at him, it's to give him sad looks that make it clear that they're thinking of Fred.
Mrs. Weasley looks up at me as I enter the kitchen at The Burrow, her eyes teary as always. She's trying to cook supper. I grab a knife from a drawer and step up beside her to help chop the carrots.
"Thank you, dear," she says, "I don't know how I'd have gotten through this meal without help. Carrots were Fred's favorite vegetable."
"They're George's, too. He's still around. Maybe it would be easier to think of the carrots that way."
"It wouldn't. I feel so guilty. I couldn't take care of Fred and now I'm treating poor George horribly. I just can't bear to see the face of one son when it looks so much like the one that's… that's…"
"It's all right. Just think, Mrs. Weasley. Fred died instantly. He wasn't in pain. It's how he'd have wanted it. Besides, he was happy. He and Percy were joking together for the first time in ages. And now, he's in a place that isn't completely destroyed by the war. Actually, sometimes I think he got it the easiest of us."
"He would have wanted it that way, wouldn't he?" she says, sniffling. I nod as Ginny comes in to help, too. She reaches for my hand and I give it a squeeze. She takes the chopped carrots to the pot so that they can be cooked. Her mother stokes her hair as she passes and Ginny gives her a reassuring smile in return.
"Mum, I invited George this time. I hope it's all right."
"Of course, dear."
"It's just I've missed him and I think it would cheer him up a bit if he thought he was more than just the surviving twin. He's still my brother, you know. And still your son."
I want to leave them alone to have a family moment, but as I turn to leave, Ginny pulls me into a hug, preventing me from leaving. I know this is so her mother won't see her start to cry and start crying again herself. I stand there and hold her, my chest tight from all this talk about Fred and George. I glance at Mrs. Weasley over Ginny's shoulder and try to smile, but I think she knows it's fake. Finally, Ginny pulls herself together and we are able to continue cooking. Just as we are about to set the table, George comes in. He just stands in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what to do. I continue setting the table and Ginny takes George by the hand and leads him into the kitchen.
"Mum…" he says.
"Georgie… I am so sorry. So, so sorry."
"No, mum, I'm sorry. I'm sorry he's gone and I'm sorry I'm like him and I'm sorry this is so hard and I'm sorry that I've been running away and I'm just so… so sorry." He's tearing up now. Ginny conjures a handkerchief and gives it to him. Mrs. Weasley slowly steps closer to him and George loses it and runs to her. He seems to turn into a 5 year old as he runs across the kitchen and falls into the embrace of his mother. They begin to sob together.
"I do love you, son. I'm sorry I've been pushing you away. I know it must have seemed like I couldn't love you anymore, but that's not true. I do and I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. Look at Percy. He's finally a Weasley again after all he did. All you did was lose your brother and that's not your fault."
"But mum, it wasn't yours either."
"I miss your jokes," she says as they pull apart.
"It's hard to joke without him. Maybe Ron can come help with the shop. Maybe going back to work will cheer us up."
"Speaking of which," says Ron, who I've just realized is here (he must have come in shortly after George), "I've got an idea for a joke he'd have loved. Perhaps you could sell it in his memory."
"Oh, come here dears," says Mrs. Weasley to Ginny, Ron, and I. We all come closer to her and she catches us up in a group hug. A family hug, I suppose. Those of us who weren't already crying before are tearing up now. I realize I've never seen Ron cry until now, not even at the funeral. I get the feeling he'll be demanding that I don't tell Hermione later.
But for right now, we find peace in two truths:
First, Fred is happy. Where he is, there is no pain and there are plenty of jokes to keep him laughing until (hopefully not for a long time) he finally has his other half to laugh with.
Second, we are still a family, like a piece of fabric. All our lives are threads woven together. There is a frayed spot where Fred is missing, but we are no less attached to one another. It will take more than death to tear apart this family.
Yet another ficlet from me that's based on a poem/song. If I write more of these little post-DH ficlets, I may just compile them into one "story" as a series, where each "chapter" is a new story. This one was based on "Shannon" by Henry Gross. Below are the lyrics.
"Shannon" by Henry Gross
Another day's at end
Mama says she's tired again
No one can even begin to tell her
I hardly know what to say
But maybe it's better that way
If Papa were here I'm sure he'd tell her
Shannon is gone, I heard
She's drifting out to sea
She always loved to swim and play
Maybe she'll find an island with a shaded tree
Just like the one in our backyard
Mama tries hard to pretend
That things will get better again
Somehow she's keepin' it all inside her
But finally the tears fill our eyes
And I know that somewhere tonight
She knows how much we really miss her
Shannon is gone, I heard
She's drifting out to sea
She always loved to swim and play
Maybe she'll find an island
With a shaded tree
Just like the one in our back yard
Ah, just like the one in our back yard
Ah...
Just like the one in our back yard