Crying, Loving and Sharing
A/N: Also known as "He Didn't Mind Sharing". Ginny is in her seventh year at Hogwarts at this point. I was inspired by Never Laugh Again by InkWeaverabc, but that is more of a Harry/Ginny romance and personally I felt that it should be more of a family moment. Please enjoy:
Crying, Loving and Sharing
An icy gray sky, abnormal for early spring. Neither the chirp of a bird nor the whistling of the wind cut through the still, silent air; as if they realized the seriousness of the occasion.
It's been a year.
The castle, newly restored, stands tall against the steely heavens, full of life and yet empty. Inhabited, but deserted for the time being. A sanctuary of silence.
If only I could have said goodbye.
And a girl sits in the depths of the cold stone, thin robes doing little to shield her body from the freezing air of northern Scotland. The numbing feelings from chilled air and floor, running through her body in the dimness, are welcomed, accepted. She doesn't want to think or feel; she only wants to forget.
Twenty-one years old a month ago.
And she remembers happier days, filled with naivety, filled with laughter and untarnished by tragedy or pain. Days when the worst of her fears was forgetting to do her chores or ripping her favorite dress.
I won't ever see his smile again. I won't ever hear one of his stupid jokes again.
And she remembers the angst-filled days of the previous year, days of suspicion and anguish, of fear and crushed hopes. Days of hiding and days of rebellion, of dreaming and of nightmares. Living nightmares.
He isn't here to chase away the tears this time. He can't bring me into his arms like he used to. He can't make me laugh or hold me close when I'm having a bad day.
Tears fall thick and fast onto her shaking hands, quivering just as much as the rest of her body, and whether it's from cold or from painful memories, not even she knows the answer.
Why did he have to die? WHY WORLD, WHY?
She silently screams her agony to the heavens, crumpling in quaking sobs that are unheard throughout the corridors. She's tired of being strong, tired of being in the spotlight and tired of watching her family suffer just as she did. As she does.
He hadn't even lived yet!
For a brief moment her grief turns to anger. Anger against the world, against the death eaters and against all the looks of pity she's received from complete strangers – as though they'd ever know how she felt. As if they could possibly imagine how it felt to have your closest family member torn away from you against your will. They had no idea. Their empty words of comfort meant nothing.
Why?
But the fury turned back to sorrow, the angry sparks in her brown eyes reverted to lost tears that flowed in a never-ending stream.
He's dead, he's never coming back.
So lost as she was in her misery that she noticed not the soft footfalls that preceded a person's appearance. Indeed, she didn't even realize someone was approaching until they cleared their throat, making known their presence.
She looked up through tear-stained eyelashes at the approaching figure and her heart nearly stopped beating, her jaw dropping for a split-second before she took in the weary and worn expression, the dull blue eyes and the features that were similar (and at the same time entirely different) from their twins'.
But it wasn't the man's twin. It wasn't her favorite brother.
And she dropped her head back down, the sobs doubling in strength and ferocity. She made no effort to keep them in and didn't even try to hide her bloodshot eyes or her renewed tears. And it was still and silent as the grave.
"Gin."
His voice was soft, but strong. And yet it was choked, as though it was hard for him to speak in the first place.
The girl shook her head violently, red hair still messy from sleep whipping back and forth across her face.
The man's face fell and it was apparent he was trying valiantly to hold back tears of his own. His muscles tensed and then he sank onto the floor next to his weeping sister. He didn't attempt to form more words, but placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.
She leaned into his touch, sitting back up and hesitating for a moment before throwing herself into her elder brother's chest, clinging onto him as if her life depended on it.
He patted her back gently and allowed a single tear to slip from his eye.
They sat, seeking comfort from each other, seeking love and escape from their present, from memories of the past and from worries about the future and what would come.
It was silent until the girl's sobs had slowed and stopped.
"He died a year ago today," She said, her voice hoarse from lack of use.
Silence.
"I know."
Both sat silently, quiet reigned until she spoke again.
"I just feel so selfish."
She stared into the distance, seeing an imaginary scene and curling tighter into his embrace, craving his comforting arms.
"You aren't selfish."
She scoffed. " 'Course I am."
"How?" He challenged, but not angrily; he was glad she was finally talking.
"Here I am, crying my eyes out about him and he was your twin, your partner and your best friend. I just feel so stupid-"
"There are many things you are, Ginny-Bear," He said, using her childhood nickname as he cut into her rant, "but stupid is most definitely not one of them."
He nearly grinned, but it faded almost as soon as it came into being. She had spoken exactly what he had been thinking as he walked through the school, the place he had spent so many hours with his brother, planning and executing pranks.
"It's alright," He finally says, pulling her close yet again, "he wasn't just my brother, he was everyone's brother. I can't keep him all to myself. That would be being selfish. But I don't mind sharing."
She let out a watery chuckle at his attempt at a joke, sniffling and brushing the tears out of her eyes.
He's right.
Finally, after the sun had risen a bit more and the movement of people could be heard in the corridors above them, Ginny and George Weasley walked out of the cold dungeons and into the bright, crisp air of morning.
Ginny gave a sad-looking smile back at the castle as they headed into Hogsmeade, feeling much lighter than she had for nearly a year.
It was May 2nd, 1999. And Fred Weasley looked down on his family, shedding a tear for his brothers and his sister that he had left behind – for his twin, the one who had understood and who still understood the fact that he was a brother to the whole of the Weasley family. And he didn't mind sharing in the least.
A/N: So yeah, a bit of mushy family nonsense that came to me somewhat randomly. I don't think it's my best writing, but I hope you at least somewhat enjoyed it! R and R please!