My Stories are once again going a very long time without being updated and for that I am sorry.
I'm trying to get back into the swing of things at the moment so a lot of my multi-chapters fanfictions are going to take a little while.
I don't own these characters or the song If Everyone cared.
From underneath the tree's, we watched the sky. It had only been a day since we'd escaped from Malfoy Manor, me, Ron and Harry, Luna, Olivander and Griphook, all of us safe, all under one roof. I don't know who told Fred where I was, whether it was Bill or Fleur, but as we lay on our backs in the grass, I really didn't care. In this tiny moment I could almost forget the war blazing around us and just lay blissfully in our solitude.
"Look at that one!" Fred said, pointing excitedly to the sky as a flashing light moved through the dark expanse, sweeping past all the other stars at such a gentle speed. "It's a shooting star, make a wish!" he said and shut his eye's tightly and I watched him, the way his light lashes swept over his freckled cheekbones, his red hair falling in his face.
"I hate to break it to you," I began, trying to conceal a laugh, "But you're confusing stars with satellites." I said and though his face fell slightly he still smiled at the sky.
"You really are a know-it-all, aren't you?" he said cheekily, grinning over at me boyishly, showing off the perfect teeth my parents would drool over. I didn't answer, just smiled at him, revelling in the moment, trying to push all thoughts of my parents from my mind. If I survived this I'd go and get them, but until then they were better off. "You know, I never dreamed you'd be mine." Fred said, his smile still etched onto his face, but softer, less mocking, filled with an admiration that made me wriggling under his gaze. "I always thought you'd marry Ron and have hundred of kids, or Harry was another option, I never thought you'd pick me." He said, lying on his back, crossing his arms casually behind his head.
"But here we are," I replied, propping myself up on my elbow so I could look down at him. The way his white t-shirt stretched over his toned body beneath his checked shirt, his freckled arms only visible from the elbows where he'd rolled the sleeves up. His jeans were ripped and tattered, but that was to be expected, he was a warrior, and as much as I hated to think about the brutal war that was raging beyond our borders, so was I. it was very likely that one or both of us wasn't going to be making it home. "We're here tonight." I said before moving closer to him, lying with my head in the crook of his neck, his arm coming instinctively around my shoulders.
"Amen," Fred said with a laugh, "How are you doing?" he said, holding me a little tighter, making me feel a little safer.
"I-" I began to say, but how could I explain this, I'm traumatised. I'm scarred. I'm scared of her. I lost to Bellatrix. I feel like I'm nothing. "I'm alive," is what I settled for, knowing that it wasn't a lie. I felt alive, lying with him like this; it reminded me that there was hope for something beyond this war. This was the one pure thing I had left. My friends were drifting, Ginny was at Hogwarts fighting her own war, Harry was martyring himself and Ron, Ron was becoming more alienated from that Horcrux and his guilt of leaving. And yet, despite all that, despite the cancer slowly eating away at our hope and our friendship, we'd never been closer together. Maybe there was hope for us yet.
"If everyone cared, and nobody cried," Fred began, slowly stroking soothing patterns on my upper arm as I lazily blinked in the starlight, feeling the weight of exhaustion from the escape and the torture all in one go. "And everyone loved and nobody lied," he continued, "and if everyone shared and swallowed their pride,"
"What are you getting at, Fred?" I asked curiously, too tired to life my head to look at him, but knowing he was already looking at me.
"Well, if everyone managed that then we'd see the day when nobody died." He finished, letting out a large sigh. Clearly this thought had been plaguing his mind for a while. "Not Cedric, not Dobby, nobody." He finished.
"But we don't live in that world, Fred." I said finally, breaking through the silence, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest against my cheek as he moved his hand to stroke my crazed hair. We lay in silence after that, neither of us saying a word as we stared into the sky. As it got darker the air around us got brighter, filling with flittering fireflies, the only light for us in our paradise of Shell Cottage's orchard.
"Well then, we'll show the world they were wrong." Fred said, and I could hear the smile in his voice and knew, even without looking, that his blue eyes would be filled with hope. "And we'll teach them all to sing along to this song." He said defiantly and I could feel the weight building in my chest, the instinct that something awful was going to happen, the foreboding feeling that one of us wouldn't get the chance to teach anyone our song.
And as we lay beneath the stars we began to realize how small we both are. All those stars, hundreds of them all living in perfect harmony, and yet we can't have peace. I've kept asking my self that if I'd known what I was getting myself into all those years ago when I received my first owl, would I have done anything different, would I have still gone to school and met Ron and Harry, would I have still met the Weasley's and would I still have fallen in love if I knew about everything I had to lose. And finally, after what must be now three years of questioning I've finally found my answer, that if I could have gone back and done anything differently, I would never have changed a thing.
"We're so small compared to the stars," I said, thinking out loud, knowing Fred would be silently agreeing with me. "If they could love like you and me, imagine what the world could be." I said, smiling wistfully at the sky, listening to the buzz of the fireflies, feeling the cool, sea breeze as it wafted up the hill from the beach, wondering if anybody could just lie under the stars and imagine a different, perfect life.
Maybe we would make it out, me and Fred, and we could be married and have children. He could work at the shop with George, taking our son or daughter along with him to play with all the toys while I worked at the ministry, showing the Wizarding world that House Elves are just as important to this world as we are. I could tell them Dobby's entire story, show the world that they were wrong about him, that they were wrong about us. We may be just children, but that doesn't mean we can't be anything more.
"Is that you're way of saying you love me, Hermione?" he asked with a laugh, his grip around my body tightening. I didn't respond I didn't need to; he knew exactly what I was saying. "I love you too." He said, planting a kiss on my forehead as I shut my eyes, imagining what the world could be.
When I first got my Hogwarts letter that day when I turned eleven, I'd assumed there had been a mistake, that they'd sent it to the wrong Hermione, that there was a little witch girl with magical parents who wasn't getting he letter because of me. But the second I climbed from that boat and entered the castle, I knew that my dreams were all coming true, that I was special, that I could really make something of myself and be more than the daughter of the dentists.
My dream of becoming the world's greatest Muggle-born witch was shattered the day the war broke out. I stopped trying to be smart and impressive, and I focused instead on being a warrior, on being brave and saving the people I love while still staying alive myself. And even after that heart wrenching realisation that my future years were dwindling into single digits, never have I ever had a dream shattered so precisely as I did that day in May.
There wasn't anything poetic about it, my heart didn't fall like tiny fragments of ice, freezing my soul, I wasn't made a better person because of my loss, my heart just shattered, every dream and ounce of hope I had left inside of me was gone the second I saw his body.
We were supposed to live happily ever after, Fred and I, we were supposed to run into the sunset and live out our lives until we reached a great old age. We were supposed to have children and share our experiences with them and the rest of the world. He wasn't supposed to leave me, he wasn't supposed to die.
None of this was supposed to happen.
I lay with him in the great hall, the same way we did that night a few months ago - it felt like years then - but it was still so vivid in my mind, the fireflies, the stars, the hope for a future where we could teach our song to the world. I pointed at the ceiling, tears falling fast down my cheeks and I spoke to him, holding onto his cold body like it was the only thing holding me to the earth, my anchor to the land of the living as I spoke about stars and satellites and fireflies, hoping he'd respond to me, to my touch, to anything.
"And I know he meant so much more to other people, he was a brother and a friend and a son, and even though I know I'll find love again, I wont forget him, and I don't think anyone possibly could." The girl said as she stood atop a podium beneath a large white marquee. Before her were rows and rows of seats, each occupied with men, women and children, all clad in smart black attire. Across the front was a row of redheaded men and women, each was crying, some silently like Charlie Weasley, others cried as they held onto loved one like Bill Weasley who clung to his pregnant wife and Arthur Weasley who held onto his sobbing wife, crying almost as loudly. Then there was Ginny Weasley, sobbing uncontrollably in the arms of a raven haired boy who shed as many tears as the others. Ron sat next to Luna, the strange blonde girl who held his hand between both of hers, the large orange sunflower in her hair a bizarre contrast to her grey dress.
"But I'm not speaking for Fred alone; I'm also speaking for Remus and Tonks, Cedric and Dumbledore, Dobby and Sirius, James and Lily, and to anyone who has lost their life to this war, but also to those who have survived it, those who are going to continue living their lives with the burden of these tragic loses in their hearts." She said, her voice breaking as the tears fell heavily down her pale cheeks. She like the others were dressed all in black, her crazy hair pulled back away form her face, the way he always said suited her.
"But that's a good thing, for as long as we feel the pain, we will remember them, and they will live on through our lives and the stories we tell our children, stories they will pass onto their children so that their names will drift on the wind forever. They will outlive those who survived and I don't doubt they'll be watching over us, mocking us when we trip," she said with a sad laugh, a few of the audience joining her "supporting us when we feel like we might give up, joking with us when we need to laugh the most and just being there for us."
Hermione could feel the sobs rising in her throat, but she fought the urge to kick and scream and shout that there should be no funeral, that they couldn't be dead, but she knew better than that. Hermione was a smart girl.
"But as a good friend of mine once said, they didn't die in vain. Yes, they died too young, but in doing so they made a world where we can live in peace and harmony. So join me in praising their memories as I say that I-" she began but a sob caught in her throat, but she pushed past it. "I'm alive." She said and the others repeated it.
"A brave man once told me his dream. That if everyone cared and nobody cried, if everyone loved and nobody lied, if everyone shared and swallowed their pride then we'd see the day when nobody died." She said looking out over the faces, from the sobbing red-heads at the front, to the unaware turquoise haired infant and finally to the silently crying blonde boy at the back. "And I'm going to carry those words with me until the day I die; I'm going to share them with the world in the hope that nobody else has to die to make a better world for us. I'm going to share Fred's song and I'm going to teach them all to sing along, the way he always wanted."
She said and there was a chorus of applause mingled with the sobs and cries of the mourners as Hermione lifted her head to the skies once again. "I love you, Fred" she whispered before moving back to join the rest of the Weasley's, to join her family.
Sooooo...opinions?
I have an annoying habit of writing sad, funeral stories, I know, but this one just came to mind and I couldn't think of anything else, so please review!