Merry… Erm… Early Christmas!
This was a Christmas one-shot for TheJesusFreak777. She asked for the first Christmas after the Final Battle for the Weasleys. And…
Yep, I cried. But anyway – MERRY CHRISTMAS TO THEJESUSFREAK777! I hope you like this… o.o XD
Oh, this was also for The Greek Myth Challenge in HPFC. 2. Gaea – the Earth Goddess. She mated with Uranus to produce the remaining Titans. Write about a huge family. Alt; write about the Weasleys.
Now We Are Six
We used to be seven.
Bill
"Ma Cher, are you okay?" Fleur asked, looking at her husband intently, as they watched the sun rise from behind the curtains.
Bill looked up quickly, and nodded, Fleur noting the abruptness that he did so, with a slight drag of her teeth along her bottom lip. "Fine." He said, after a little more silence. "I'm just thinking."
Fleur nodded, and patted his arm, smiling when he responded. "It's okay to think." She responded, knowing what he was thinking of. "It always is."
If she was being honest, Bill didn't look convinced, but he kissed her and smiled back. "Merry Christmas pretty girl." He said, in a louder, more jubilant tone. Then he looked to his left, and picked up the box he had wrapped the night before, in the stripy red and gold wrapping paper that his father had given to him.
"Zank you, my love." Fleur kissed him again, and then took the box, slipping her fingers under the Spellotape, and nodding appreciatively at the surprising neatness of everything – from the paper to the tight corners. Then she pulled the paper off expertly, with a ripping sound.
"It's for our baby girl." Bill said, as Fleur lifted the lid. "When we have her. It won't be long, pretty girl. We've been trying for long enough."
Fleur stared at the pink pair of little mittens, barely able to comprehend their existence, and couldn't even bring herself to touch them.
"Zank you." She said, in a throaty, choked-up voice. "William, zank you."
She didn't tell him that their dream of a family was going to be harder than they had initially realised, and when they hugged again, a tear slipped down from one of her eyes, and landed on a pillow.
The Weasley family… Fleur knew that she was lucky to be one of them. But, in her heart, she knew that she was no replacement for Fred. In fact, Molly had (and might still) hate her.
But Bill deserved to not worry. His eyes were full of pain, and Fleur had spent enough sleepless nights lying next to him as he stared at the ceiling to know that, when you have lost someone close to you, the best thing to do is not worry them.
Charlie
"OI! LAZYBONES! GET UP!"
Charlie groaned, and turned over, away from the bright stream of sunlight that was piercing his closed eyes. He pulled the covers up to him as well – knowing that his roommate's next course of action would be to pull those off as well.
He was right, as seconds later someone pulled on the side of the covers. Charlie engaged in a half-hearted battle for them, before his sleep-ached muscles gave up and the covers were pulled off too.
"Piss off." He said in general, his eyes too blurry to see the face of Vladmir, the guy he had roomed with for the last… Well, lots of years.
A pair of trousers landed over his eyes, and a t-shirt on his stomach. "Get some clothes on idiot." Vladmir said, from the other side of the room. "What happened to going to your family tonight?"
Charlie groaned, and flopped forward onto his face, wishing that his pillow tasted like marshmallow and not washing powder. "Shut up." He groaned, closing his eyes and trying to ignore both that fact that he was freezing and that he didn't have his jeans on his face. "Leave me 'lone."
There was silence. Charlie almost got his hopes up that Vladmir had left, but then there was a shuffle of feet, and then the jeans were lifted off his face, and Charlie could see him. "Come on mate." He said, after a few more wasted seconds. "Let's get you up."
Charlie looked a state; he knew that even to himself. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was sticking up all over the place, and he still had on the beer-splattered trousers of the day – or rather night – before. Vladmir rolled his eyes.
"The girl you came home with didn't even bother staying." He explained, as Charlie picked up his razor and contemplated what his brother might do with it. "She just helped me get you into bed, and then gave me five dollars for the help, before walking out of the door."
"That's a shame." Charlie didn't really care. He dated for fun, and never for more than two weeks at a time. "She had a cute arse."
Then he was left alone. Charlie exhaled as the door shut, and then he looked up into his own bloodshot eyes in the bathroom mirror. He could see ever line of the last six months echoed in his face.
The new burns were still bandaged up, and he hissed as he unravelled the white cloth and spread some of the burn serum that his mother had sent over them. Then he pulled the t-shirt over his head, changed his trousers, and left the bathroom.
Vladmir was waiting in the tiny kitchen, with an old Muggle bracelet. "Go on mate." He said, looking at Charlie with thinly veiled concern. "See you tomorrow, okay?"
The Portkey glowed red, and Charlie took it, with just enough term to swear at his roommate before he spiralled out and away to the Burrow.
He didn't think of it as home anymore.
Percy
"Hey." Percy greeted, as Charlie walked through the front door, looking as rough as Percy felt. "Um… Merry… Christmas."
The greeting was, at best, half-hearted, and Percy pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose as they hugged. Charlie mumbled it back in response as they pulled away, and then looked around. "Can I have some water?" He asked quickly.
Percy blinked, and then nodded. Charlie stomped through to the kitchen, and was immediately bombarded by greetings on all sides, and a hug from his mother. Percy hung back, watching the family crowd around Charlie, and felt the absence of Fred, right down in his heart.
He would be laughing, clapping Charlie on the back, making a quip about how fast he got through girls nowadays, and George…
"Are you okay Perce?"
Percy nodded, and managed a smile for Bill, who was looking at him with concern. "Fine thanks, I was just thinking about work." He passed off, with a shrug. "Kingsley needs so much doing, I almost didn't want to get the day off."
Bill, thankfully, just nodded, and looked off into the distance, beyond Percy and out to the window behind. "Hmm." He murmured to himself. "Thinking is… Good."
He had been away for too long, Percy knew. Six months with his family again barely weighed with the momentous awkwardness that two years estrangement. He had missed Bill's wedding, and then he came back just in time to-
"RON! HARRY! CHARLIE'S HERE!" His mother called, and Percy jumped, wiping at his glasses furiously. He could feel Bill's gaze on him, and so he smiled as he walked through to the kitchen, and forced himself to pretend that – yes, everything was beautifully normal.
Except, when he glanced up at the family clock, all of them were pointing to home, except one, which was broken in two, hovering between 'lost' and 'home'.
George
"'Nother one please Tom." The man at the bar said, his eyes fixed on the wood of the table. "Cheers."
Tom, the wizened old barkeep of the Leaky Cauldron (or, as it was known to regulars, the 'Leaky', and the man was certainly a regular) passed the man another Firewhiskey, without so much of a passing comment. And then he looked around the otherwise empty bar, and walked into the back room.
The man was left alone. He took a long, large swig of his Firewhiskey, and then checked his battered old gold watch, exhaling when he read 'noon' rather than '9am'. Time seemed to pass slowly for him.
Of course, he had other places to be. His family would be sitting down for lunch right now. Maybe they would care that he wasn't there. But he doubted it. Because, he wasn't… He wasn't him. For all of his life, he was a him until the person that seemed to make him him went off and fucking died…
He grunted, and took another swig. If he was honest to himself, he didn't know why he was here, sitting at the bar in the Leaky. He wanted to be dead in a ditch by now, but every time he got the knife and contemplated it, he would look up into the eyes of his dead twin, and then he'd leave and drink fifteen Firewhiskeys.
Was he ever sober? One thing was for certain – he hadn't been for six months.
"Bloody Voldemort." He swore, using the name of the bloody wizard that had made his life turn so inside out in five fucking minutes. "Piss off, all of you."
He could see the letter, in the corner of his vision, and could feel the weight that it carried. And then George shook his head, took another gulp and picked it up, shoving it into his pocket.
He had an apology to make. And if he was going to carry this whole shambles through, then he'd better make it fast.
Ron
"I don't know where George is." Ron said, for the umpteenth time. "I locked up the shop for him on Tuesday, and made sure that he wasn't going to do anything stupid."
Hermione bit her lip, forcing herself to look over to the corner of the room, where Mrs Weasley was sobbing quietly into her kitchen towel. "It's okay." She said to Ron, who shrugged. "Everyone believes you."
"No one thought George was going to come." Harry lied, sharing a look with Hermione.
Then Ron snapped, his head cracking up, and his eyes dark. "It's fucking Christmas, Harry." He said, his expression unreadable. "He could have tried."
Harry and Hermione shared another uneasy glance, and Hermione slipped an arm around Ron, watching the rest of the Weasley's quietly look away. Ron didn't pull away, but his eyes flashed.
"It's… Been hard for all of us." Hermione didn't think about her parents, in Australia, with no idea who she was. She didn't think of little Teddy, or Remus and Tonks, or Sirius, or even Harry's parents, like she often did when she was in this situation. "Especially George."
"Especially George." Ron said hollowly. "What? Does no one ever think what it must be like to walk around a shop that you know Fred loved? I do that ever day Hermione."
Hermione bit her lip again, and shook her head quickly. "I didn't mean…" She trailed off. "Ron, I didn't…"
But Ron was already walking away, shoving open the back door and letting it crash ominously behind him. Hermione stood, almost as if she wanted to go after him, but then she walked in the other direction, up the stairs, and presumably to the room she shared with Ginny.
Ginny
Harry nearly went after Hermione, and then half-started towards the back door, before he walked away from both, and looked around the room for Ginny.
He saw her, with her jumper on, looking out of the window. She turned around when he walked up, flashed him a bright smile, and turned away again.
"You okay?" Harry said, stupidly. She was obviously not okay. But… He felt indebted to her, and anything he could ask her, to make her okay again, he would do without hesitation.
Which, again, was stupid.
The only person that could make this better was dead and buried.
But Ginny was strong, and she nodded, her smile flashing up for a fraction longer. "Fine." She said. "You? Not missing your Aunt and Uncle too much?"
The subtle tease made Harry beam, and he laughed and shook his head. "Definitely not." He replied fervently. "Green's really your colour though, you should wear it more often."
Ginny smiled, again for longer, but then it was gone, equally as fast. It was like she was on a cord; Harry would pull one end and make her happy, and then the other end would be yanked by the memories, and then the good mood would be evaporated.
"It looks better on you." She said mutely. "Fred always hated the colour green, it reminded him of Slytherin."
It was good, Harry reminded himself, for her to talk about Fred, even in casual passing. But it still unnerved him, although Ginny had been told to talk about him at least once every day by her therapist.
Mrs Weasley had booked Ginny in for therapy soon after the Final Battle. Ginny and Ron. Harry knew that George needed it too, but he seemed to deal with it in… Other ways.
Ways that were the cause for why Mrs Weasley was sobbing in the corner.
Harry nodded, and pulled Ginny to him with one arm, relaxing when she rested her head on his shoulder, and returned the embrace.
Things weren't okay now.
But…
They could be.
But now we are six.