Freddie Weasley stepped outside, carefully shutting the door behind him. The cool breeze caressed his face as he sat down on the steps, looking pensive, to anyone who happened to be walking by. Of course, nobody was walking by, not at this time of night, even in April. It was pleasant enough out, which was good, as he planned to be out for a little while, and didn't want to be shivering the whole time. The peacefulness and quiet of the night and the neighborhood allowed him to think, something that wasn't easy to do when the Weasleys and Potters got together. There was always hustle and bustle, news of Dominique and Molly's jobs at the Ministry of Magic, or how Lily was doing as a Slytherin, or various discussions on the common family friends-the Longbottoms, the Scamanders, Scorpius Malfoy, the Finnegans...so many that sometimes, it was hard to keep track. There was never any time to just sit, be still, and think.
Most people who didn't really know Freddie would say that he wasn't much of a thinker. He was a seventh-year, Gryffindor Quidditch captain with an affinity for pranks and a boundless love for the female sex. He wasn't much of a studier, and usually scraped Acceptables in his classes, as he rarely bothered to try for more. Recently, though, he had found himself wanting time to himself, time to be quiet and reflect. The twenty-fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts was approaching. May 2nd. He had known of the date ever since he was little, as it commonly came up in the family's discussions and he had been attending the memorials ever since he was eight. They were held every year now, and were usually quite grandiose events, with almost all the student population of Hogwarts trickling out to the grounds, in addition to all the survivors who attended, often with their families.
In previous years, he hadn't really thought about it. It was something that happened a long time ago, a fierce battle that caused his namesake to die, along with Teddy's parents, and many other people that he knew only as names. Now, though...well, he couldn't help but think how Harry Potter, along with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, had been only his age when this all occurred, some people even younger. His uncle had defeated Voldemort when he was only seventeen, an accomplishment that shook the Wizarding World and changed it for the better. What had Freddie done? Nothing of real accomplishment. He certainly didn't count shagging three girls or being an excellent Chaser a real accomplishment. They were good, sure, but these were mundane things. The people back in the Second War, and, he supposed, the First Wizarding War, as well, had been heroes. They had done something great.
He sighed, resting his chin in his hand. He wanted to do something memorable, something great, something that would get him remembered. Perhaps it was just his Gryffindor sense of adventure speaking, he supposed. Everyone in his family had been a Gryffindor-his parents and all his aunts and uncles, anyway, and they had all been heroes, people who fought at the Final Battle and opposed Voldemort and the Death Eaters the whole time. Here he was, just an average eighteen-year-old who hadn't done anything with his life. It bothered him. What was he going to do, once he finished school? He had thought of being a Quidditch player, as he was talented, but now he wasn't so sure. He didn't think it would be fulfilling, that it would satisfy his need to do something great.
He heard the door creak open and jumped slightly, settling back down as he saw his younger sister slip out and sit next to him, staring into the still, peaceful darkness of the night. "Is something the matter?" she asked quietly, leaning against him the way she used to do when she was five and he was six. "Usually you don't sneak away. That's Lily's job."
He smiled a little at that, thinking of his younger cousin whose Slytherin cunning barely eclipsed her fiery temper. "Yeah, usually it is," he agreed. "I just wanted to think. It seems like I haven't done anything with my life, while everyone else has. They all fought at the Battle of Hogwarts...they're all heroes."
"All the adults, you mean," Roxanne corrected him, smoothing her dark hair away from her face. "It's not like any of us did, either."
"Still...it seems like what I'm doing is pointless. At my age, Uncles Harry and Ron, and Aunt Hermione were saving the world. What am I doing? Shagging girls and playing Quidditch."
"Yeah...a little too much information," his sister said, making a face. "But really, your life isn't pointless. You're a great brother to me, and a great cousin to everyone else. Isn't that what's important? We don't all need to be great heroes who fought Death Eaters, Freddie." She wrapped her arms around him. "You're fine just the way you are. We all love you. Doesn't that matter more?"
"Maybe," he admitted grudgingly.
"Us Weasleys stick together, no matter what. Look at Uncle Percy-he abandoned everyone for two and a half...no, three years, almost, and everyone still accepted him back into the family. You don't need to be some epic fighter in order to be loved. You're not perfect, but who is?"
Freddie nodded, reassured slightly by his sister's words. "How did you become so wise? I think you're hanging around Mols a bit too much, Roxie."
She lightly punched him on the arm. "You needed it. Come on, let's go back inside. A bunch of us are still up, and we're waiting for you."
"Okay, okay." He stood up and went back inside the house, his younger sister trailing behind him. Maybe he wasn't perfect. He wasn't a veteran or a hero. But he was part of a loving family, and maybe, for now, that was just enough.
A/N: Thanks for reading! This is part of the Anything You Wanna Write Competition, Round Two. My character was Fred II, my prompt 'still'.