A/N
I replaced this chapter because for some reason, the italics in the last one didn't work. So its the same chapter, just with proper punctuation and italics.
Fred waited for the next act. He picked his words very carefully. Everything in here felt like a circus act. There to entertain. There to fill up time. To sell out shows. It wasn't authentic. He sat through each and every act, staring ahead blankly, listening to the words but not taking them in. He only did it because of the silence. The silence was unbearable. There was nothing there to be entertained by. To have his mind on. So all he could think about was George's death. Of course, each part of the funeral was focussed on George's death. But, as I previously said, Fred didn't take it in. It wasn't real. But the silence made it seem real. Too real.
Hermione stepped up to the stage. She looked a bit nervous. Sad. Hermione, Fred and George had been thick as thieves at some points. It was an unspoken truth. Nobody really knew. But they did.
When it was Fred and George's turn to do the washing-up, Hermione sheepishly came to join them while everybody else was outdoors. They had ended up singing songs into wet forks and sliding around the kitchen, their smiling faces covered in soapy suds.
When Hermione went out to do some weekly food shopping, looking fed up after an argument with Ron, Fred and George had followed her to the shops and snuck up behind her, yelling "Boo!" and making her jump. They had joked all afternoon in the shop and went browsing big posh shops trying on hats and wigs and putting on silly voices impersonating snooty people.
When the Weasleys (plus Hermione and Harry) had gone for a day at the beach and Hermione had looked a bit out of place sitting stiffly on the sand while everyone else swam, the twins had gone over and built a magnificent sandcastle with her, moat and all, using a stick and seaweed for a flag. They eventually managed to get her into the water and discovered that she was a rather good swimmer.
But even though she was good friends with George, what right did she have to speak at his funeral? She barely knew him compared to Fred.
Fred shook these thoughts out of his mind. She had helped him a lot after the war ended and plans for George's funeral had to be made. Why was he being so mean about her?
During the plans for George's funeral, Fred was torn. He had to be the one to make the big decisions; he knew that. He also knew that he didn't trust anybody else to plan the funeral. They'd all make it too solemn. But Fred could hardly bear to look at seating plans. Most days, he could barely get out of bed. He didn't do much. He was completely and utterly destroyed. He still was, but less. So when the funeral was a week away and he had done practically nothing, Hermione had saved the day.
She had crept into Fred's room one evening, silently closing the door behind her. Fred didn't even sigh. Everyone had tried to get him up. Nothing had worked.
"Fred?" Hermione had whispered. No answer. "I.. I know that you don't want to speak to me. Or anyone. You probably just want to talk to George right now." She sighed. Fred didn't say anything, but he was surprised by her blantentness. Everyone else had tried to coax him out by bribing him with quidditch and Molly's cooking, talking about WWW, and trying to make him… well, happy again… when to be happy again felt like betraying George. Hermione's down-to-Earth attitude sort of shocked him into listening to her more.
"It… it must be so incredibly difficult. I can't believe that George is gone." Fred winced. Saying it aloud made it seem too real. "But Fred… I really don't think that George would want this. And I know, I know, I didn't know him well. How should I know what he'd want?" It was as if she was voicing his feelings. "But I knew him well enough to see that he was a kindhearted and amazing person, quite frankly. Like you. I just have a feeling that he would never want you to be sad because of him. I feel that he wouldn't want to be a burden to you," she continued shyly. "Fred… George wouldn't want this."
"George is DEAD, Hermione! He doesn't want anything! He's DEAD!"
Hermione was taken aback. So was Fred, truthfully. So many people had tried to bring him back with this stupid reasoning. Stupid.
Stupid
Stupid
Stupid
Stupid
Stupid
Stupid.
He kept telling himself that, over and over. It wasn't true, obviously. But he just wanted to believe it. It was easier to be sad than to be happy. Being angry at the world, blaming it on everyone else was so much easier than listening and acknowledging that they were correct. Being happy was tiring. Hard. He felt like he was betraying George by getting over his death. It was too difficult to get back into happy. Sadness was comforting. It was easy. Falling back into it after a brief moment of happiness felt like getting back into bed after a long and difficult day. Getting out of it felt like tiredly getting out of bed after a night with barely any sleep with a ball and chain attached to both your feet. Difficult. Extremely, horribly difficult - Fred couldn't ever see himself doing it. Hermione and his family were trying to pull him out of that. That's why he couldn't do it.
Hermione didn't know that.
So she continued.
"He loved you. You loved him. You still do, I mean… he's gone, but all the memories of him are still there. All the time he had with you."
"I never got to tell him that," Fred spoke. His voice was rusty from not using it, but he sounded serious. Solemn. There wasn't emotion in his voice. "That I loved him." Fred almost said it matter-of-factly. "That's what's hurting me the most, you know."
Hermione bit her lip for a moment before replying.
"He knew it, Fred. You do know that, don't you? He knew that you loved him. He loved you right back."
Those words gave Fred so much comfort. So much help that Hermione would never know about. Like saying 'George is dead' aloud, saying 'he knew how much you cared for him' also made it seem real. That's what Fred needed.
"But Fred?"
"Yeah?"
"I think he wants fireworks at his funeral."
Hermione said it so softly, as if she was talking to an idiot, that Fred chuckled. It felt good to laugh. A bit like he was betraying his brother. But mostly good.
"I think so too." He smiled up at Hermione, looking into her eyes. She smiled back.
But now he was at the funeral. He had asked Hermione to do something, and, weirdly, she had explicitly said, "I can't. There's nothing I'm good at." This was so obviously untrue that Fred had laughed again. Laughing felt good. Nobody could help smiling when Fred laughed - not only because it was so lovely and happy, but because he rarely laughed recently and it was so good to see him happy. The entire Weasley family was astonished to see Fred and Hermione walking down the stairs together 10 minutes after Hermione had gone up to try and speak to Fred. No-one was expecting it to work - Hermione of all people. But, Lo and behold - it did. "What? Hermione, you're good at everything. Except for maybe Quidditch." Hermione had blushed tomato red. She hadn't tried to hide it, though. Fred liked that.
"Just write a nice speech. One that George," - Fred winced - "would enjoy." To his surprise, Hermione had shaken her head.
"It wouldn't have enough humour. I'm not funny. And anyway, everyone's going to be speaking. Get someone else to do something entertaining."
Fred was just about to object to this statement when Harry had interrupted.
"Sing, Hermione!"
"What?"
"Sing!"
Fred was confused. Hermione? A singer? Even though just 2 minutes ago he had insisted that she was good at everything, he couldn't imagine Hermione prancing about a stage, dancing and warbling along. Fred took a sip of water, trying to work it out in his head.
"I-Harry, I don't sing!"
"Oh yes, you do!" Harry insisted. "I've heard you! So has Ron! You have the voice of an angel!"
Harry had said this so enthusiastically that Fred had nearly spat out his water. He looked up, laughing.
"That's going pretty far, Harry!"
"Yes, it is," said Hermione crossly "I'm not singing."
But Hermione often found it hard to say no to Harry, for all her stubbornness.
So, here she was, Hermione Granger, dressed in a rich, dark purple dress, with violet robes, up on a stage with her voice amplified with a simple spell, nervously looking out at the sea of people. If Fred was his normal self, he'd have noticed how wildly attractive she looked. How much effort she'd put in. But he wasn't his normal self.
"Um, so…" she began nervously. "I am going to be singing a song from an old muggle movie that I once watched with Fred and George…"
Fred didn't look up, or start, or smile at the mention of his name. He'd heard it a lot this evening.
"George especially seemed quite taken with the film. At first, he thought it old and boring. Further into it, he began to like it. It made him smile. He marvelled at the colours. He laughed at the bad jokes. He gasped dramatically at the plot twists. The movie was called 'The Wizard of Oz'. there were a few songs in it. I'm going to sing one now. It was probably by no means his very favourite… but I think he liked the lyrics."
Hermione, with a swish of her wand, began the tinkling music. She began to sing.
"Somewhere
Over the rainbow
Way up high"
Fred looked up properly for once. He listened. He took in. He was astounded - really surprised at what he was hearing. Her voice. It was completely and utterly beautiful. It seemed to ring out like the most mesmerizing bells.
"There's a land I have heard of
Once in a lullaby"
Fred was utterly transfixed by Hermione's beautiful voice. George would have loved this. For all his joking and messing around, George was a big softie. When the twins and Hermione watched this together (for they had, many times, sprawled out on the sofa comfortably together while everyone else was out of the house) this scene would almost always make George cry like a baby. He'd silently sniff. He really thought that this song was beautiful. It was a side of George that Hermione had certainly never seen before. It was a bit new to Fred, as well, if he was honest.
"Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true"
If Fred hadn't been so riveted, he might have looked around and seen everybody's else's reaction. Harry was staring straight at Hermione, biting his lip and not moving his eyes for fear of crying. Ron was going very red in the face and looking like a sad little boy again, and try as he might, he couldn't stop two fat tears from falling down. Molly was sobbing openly for what seemed the hundredth time during the funeral, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief and clutching Arthur like she could never bear to let go. Arthur was very red in the face and trembly - the couple was a perfect picture of sorrow. Ginny was sobbing quietly into her hands, her knees tucked up to her stomach, looking small. Bill was gripping Fleur's hand tightly. Charlie was looking up at Hermione with a sad and reminiscent expression.
It was a shame.
George would never have wanted all this sorrow.
"Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake where the clouds are far
Behind me
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops…
That's where you'll find me"
Fred knew that this was George's favourite part of the song. Seeing Hermione put in the extra effort for this line made Fred bite his lip.
"Somewhere
Over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
If birds fly over the rainbow
Why, oh, why can't I?"
There was a loud round of sad applause. Hermione bit her lip and thanked everybody.
"Um, also… for the end of this funeral, Fred and I had something special that we wanted to show you. We think… we believe that George would like it."
Fred got out his wand. So did Hermione. And, with reminiscent tears in their eyes, they ended the funeral. With something very special.
Fireworks.
Everywhere.
Rich colours exploding in the night sky: vivid greens, sky blues, sandy yellow, sparkling emerald, bright orange, beautiful indigo; Fred and Hermione had gone all out. The thing about this was that everyone forgot about their sorrow; they looked up in wonder and 'oohed' and 'aahed' and smiled.
That's what George would have wanted.
It was thanks to Hermione.