The Headstone
By. SadieAnnabethMellark
Summary: At five years old, Fred doesn't understand why his name his carved into a headstone. Or why his Mummy was crying or why his Daddy wouldn't look at him. All he knew, was that as he traced the letters of his name very carefully, that something was wrong.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I am not J.K. Rowling. If I was I would own Harry Potter.
I was five when I had first seen my name carved into stone. The adults had sent us out to play, not that we really minded, so they could talk. We had decided on hide and seek, and being the youngest, Louis was automatically first to be the searcher. So, the rest of us James, Teddy, Molly, Victorie, Dominique, and I, hid while Louis counted in his high-pitched four year old voice.
I immediately knew where I was going to hide, so as soon as he started at 'one' I ran off with a flash towards the back of the burrow, a place where we were really only allowed at the time when Mummy or Daddy or one of the Aunts or Uncles was watching us. I knew that Louis (or anybody else for that matter) would never find me here, because up until now we had all followed the rule to never go to this side of the house by ourselves.
Fleeing from sight as I made my way to the back side of the burrow, I couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle of glee. Funny how things seemed much more appealing when you knew that you really shouldn't be doing them. Maybe that was why I had grown to be a prankster later in life. Living more on the edge was more thrilling than abiding by the rules after all.
I remember searching for the perfect place to hide, just in case Louis got up the nerve to come to this side of the house to find me. Scanning the area, I deemed that the perfect hiding spot would be behind an old peach tree, that I remember Uncle Bill told James not to play by once. In that moment though, the warning from Uncle Bill, Grandmum, Mummy, and Daddy, had flown out the window, because I knew I had found my hiding place.
So, I bolted for the tree, my mind not even acknowledging the fact that I knew I would get in trouble. Even once I ran behind the tree and smiled to myself, I was still care-free. I was running high on adrenaline and (I'll admit) most likely the influence of sugar from the dessert Grandmum had made. I heard a faint shout from Louis, declaring that he was starting to look for us. I chuckled once more before slowly sliding down the tree so I was sitting underneath its branches.
And that's when I noticed the bright orange stone sitting under the tree. Curious as to what it was, I crawled closer towards it and ran a finger over the stone looking at it, and then I noticed that there was writing on the other side, facing away from the tree. Mummy had just taught me how to write and I knew all the letters of the alphabet.
I remember recognizing the letters of my name, FRED WEASLEY, that were written in bright purple letters. Mummy had made me sit there and practice writing it out until my hand hurt. Carefully, I reached out my hand and with one finger, started to trace the 'F' in Fred, before moving on to the 'R'. It was eerily comforting to trace the letters of my name on this stone. I hated tracing them on paper when Mummy made my practice, but this felt different.
I can't say it was fun, but it was...peaceful and safe. It was comforting to me.
I was so caught up tracing my name over and over again, I didn't register the snapping branches that should've alerted me that somebody was about to discover my presence. It wasn't until the soft gasp from Mummy that I turned around to look at my Mummy and Daddy.
Daddy had his arms around Mummy as she cried, her hands covering her mouth. Daddy was looking off into the distance as if he couldn't see me.
"Run along, Fred." Daddy told me with a hollow voice, still not looking at me.
"What's wrong Mummy?" I asked as I came over to her, hugging onto her legs.
"Go on, baby. Go play with the cousins." Mummy told me softly as she pushed me gently away from her and away from the comforting feeling I was getting from looking at my name in bright purple on the smooth orange rock.
"Look, Mummy, there's my name." I told her as I tried to take her hand and pull her closer to the comfort I had found under the old peach tree.
"Go play, son." Daddy told me with a stern tone. I stepped away from Mummy. Daddy never really was stern, not with me at least.
"But, Daddy-" I started.
"Run along, Fred. Go play." Daddy's voice was hard and cold. Daddy was mad at me. He had never been mad at me before. I felt my eyes well up with tears and I ran back towards where the cousins were, no doubt, still playing.
Through the next couple of rounds that we played, all I could think was that Daddy was mad at me. Daddy hated me. I even voiced this to Teddy, James, and Louis at one point, but all three assured me that Daddy didn't hate me. Well, they tried to assure me, but in the back of my mind I knew it was true. Daddy did hate me and I didn't know why.
Now, looking back, I realized it was long before I was six that I truly realized that Dad had issues with me. It wasn't until later that night, when I woke up from a bad dream that I heard Daddy tell Mummy about everything.
I remember having dreamed about Daddy being crushed by a big wall when it exploded, and immediately running for my parents room in search of comfort. However, I never went inside Mummy and Daddy's room. I had stopped short in the hallway, listening to Daddy talk to Mummy through their cracked door.
"Angie, I just can't look at him. He just reminds me so much of-" Daddy trailed off.
"I know, George." Mummy told Daddy quietly, "It was hard for me too."
"He just looks so much like him. It's almost like he's alive again, but he doesn't remember anything from his life."
"George-"
"It was like watching a younger version of him learning that he was gonna die too soon. God, Angelina, how can I look at him and act like everything is okay, like it has always been okay."
"George," Mummy was stern now (I was use to this from her), "He's our son, not your brother no matter how much he looks like him."
"Angie, you don't understand." Daddy was telling Mummy. He sounded really upset now too, "There's days when I look at Fred and I see just a younger version of my twin. And some days, I won't lie Angie, I wish that it was my brother."
And that's when I quietly crept back down the hall and back towards my room. Mummy and Daddy were starting to argue now. And then they went quiet and Mummy poked her head out from the door.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Did we wake you?" she asked her voice sounding like it normally did. I bit my lip.
"No, I-" I started, thinking up an excuse, "I had to go potty."
Mummy smiled and nodded, "Alright, sweetheart. Good night."
And for the next few days it continued on like that. Daddy wouldn't look at me. Mummy seemed more gentle than normal. Baby Roxy was oblivious to the change. And I carried around the idea that Daddy hated me, silently praying it wasn't true, but knowing it was.
And it was all because I found my name in bright purple letters engraved into a orange headstone.
THE END
A/N: (So, if any of you are currently reading my story 'Wish Granted', you'll know that this was mentioned in the first chapter. I really thought it would make a good one-shot/companion piece to the story. I'm working really hard on the third chapter for you all, and I am planning on updating either today or tomorrow. If you haven't read, 'Wish Granted', give it a try if you want. Tell me what you all think. Thanks. S.A.M. :))
P.S.: (By the way, it is 'Autism Awareness Day'. So today, light it up blue and support all those people with Autism!)