Title: Life after Death
Description: Vignettes of the Weasleys after Fred's death. Chapter One- Molly.
Rating: T for emotional intensity.
Disclaimer: I am not the owner of, nor am I in any way associated with, Harry Potter or anything related to it. I am merely borrowing JK Rowling's incredible creation to play with a little.
A/N: Hey, all! This is my first published fic (though by no means the first I've written), and because I'm mildly obsessed with HP, it's a HP fic. This will be multi-chapter, as I'm planning to do one chapter for each of the Weasleys. I'm working on George's right now. These are technically in 3rd person POV, but they are centric on the title character of each chapter. I can't promise that updates will be very regular, between school, work, and real life, but I'll update whenever I can. There is a kleenex warning on this chapter, and probably every chapter to come, as well.
I hope you enjoy reading this. Reviews are love, as is concrit, and flames will be used to light my fireplace and warm my house up a little.
Six months. Six months, and she still occasionally sets a place for him at the table. Six months, and she still occasionally calls for him with the rest of her children. Six months, and the pieces that her world was torn into haven't even begun to sew themselves back together.
That dreaded mix of despair, of loss, of anger slowly boiling into rage, and most of all of painful emptiness, like a piece of her has been thoughtlessly, harshly rent away from her body, and the hole left can never be filled... It all builds up inside her, and she forces it down because her children are around and she needs to be strong...
She makes herself be strong because it's all she knows to do. All the years of war against Voldemort, all the years of danger to her, to her husband, to her friends, to her children; through it all, she never let anyone see weakness. She protected them, comforted them, and to think that one day she wouldn't be able to keep them from harm...
She is, first and foremost, a mother. It hurt to see Bill and Charlie leave, knowing they would return. But Fred, so suddenly, no warning, never expecting something so terrible, unthinkable... She didn't get to say goodbye, and when was the last time she really told him how much she loved him? And she needs to hide, because the guilt has finally pushed her over the edge, and she can't hold it in any more, and she leaves the dishes washing themselves in the kitchen, hurries to her room, and doesn't try to hold back the tears. And she cries. She never let's anyone see her cry. Not even Arthur. Never, ever her precious children who she can still touch.
She wishes she had hugged him just a few more times. Wishes she hadn't scolded him so much. Wishes she had been as proud as she should have of her baby, and wishes she had told him so.
She thinks back over the past several years, memories springing up despite her insistence that, just like the last time, she wasn't ready, she couldn't think about it, the pain was still too much. She remembers his smile, his voice, the way, when she caught them hiding something, his eyes would flit, just once, to the side at which George was standing.
Twice, she's absentmindedly called George Fred. Twice, she's seen that heart-wrenching look of grief and pain flash across his eyes. Twice, she's been brutally reminded that Fred is not there and never will be again. And she wishes she hadn't chided her twins so much for playing that old game of theirs with her, because what she wouldn't give right now to hear him say, "Just kidding, Mum, I am Fred." And twice, against her will, she's broken down sobbing in front of one of her children, caught off guard.
She is a mother. And that is why she cannot let go. Even though she held his dead body in her arms, even though she saw them lower the casket into the ground, she cannot accept that she wasn't able to protect one of her dear, sweet babies. She can't accept that she'll never hear his voice again, never touch him again, and that there will always be an extra space next to George at the dinner table.
~Fin
Well, I hope you liked it! If you did, I would hugely appreciate it if you would leave a review! More to come soon.
~AmanielEstel