This one-shot was written for Quidditch League Competition Round 13
Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Chaser 2
Wordcount: 2145
Bonus prompts: high; silver; middle of the road
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series, all rights go to J.K. Rowling.
The loss, the sorrow, the waste
[A day which meant something different for everyone]
The loss
Without opening her eyes, she called out, but she didn't get any answer. She opened her eyes only to notice that she was alone in the room.
"George?" This time she was more uncertain and when once again no one replied she sighed and got up. She looked at clock only to see that it wasn't even seven o'clock. She got up and in ten minutes time she was ready to leave, she knew where she could find him.
The graveyard seemed completely empty and it was eerie. When she reached the grave she was looking for she felt a bit of disappointment. He wasn't there, but as there were fresh flowers on the grave he has been there recently. She looked down only to feel the traitor tears running down on her face.
Fred Weasley
1 April, 1978 - 2 May, 1998
A son, a brother and a prankster.
She wiped her tears away and looked up only to notice him on the middle of the road. He was standing there watching her silently. She wasn't sure how long he has been there.
Without saying a word he closed the space between them and put his arms around her. She put her head on his shoulder, while he was rubbing her back.
"You didn't wake me up," she stated softly. He didn't react for a moment, but then he pushed her gently a bit away.
"I wanted to be alone with Freddie for a little while," he told her gently and she nodded. He turned towards the grave and she noticed that he seemed to turn into a statue. For a moment she was ready to ask if he was alright, but then she cursed herself. He wasn't well.
"Freddie, why did you leave me?" he muttered under his breath, but he didn't move. She took a step closer, but she didn't dare to touch him. She wanted to give him the space he needed.
"Freddie!" he cried out loudly suddenly and she closed the space between them and held him tight just as he did before. While he was sobbing she was muttering sweet nonsense trying to calm him down.
"Why did he die?" he looked up and his eyes met her dark ones. They were pleading and he seemed to wait for her answer. He wanted to hear something from her, she didn't know either. She breathed in his calming scent trying to find energy in her to answer his heartbreaking question.
"For us, George," she muttered and his eyes once again met hers.
"That's not an answer, Angie!" he stated furiously and she backed a bit because of his tempestuous expression. She straightened and raised her eyebrows.
"What do you want to hear, George? I-I don't know... Do you think I wanted him to leave?" she asked, her voice somewhat begging. She wanted him to understand that he wasn't the only one to feel the loss. He ran his hand through his thick red hair and cursed under his breath.
"Why did he leave me alone?" he questioned her, once again he seemed vulnerable.
"You aren't alone, George. Fred didn't leave you alone," she replied, but he didn't seem to hear her.
"Freddie, why did you do this to me?" he questioned his deceased twin as if he was there. She let out a sigh and took a step closer to him, but he moved away, he backed.
"George, you aren't the only one who feels the loss. You aren't alone, do you hear me?" she asked him and for a moment she was sure that she has been talking to a wall, but then he turned towards her and he nodded.
"You are missing him too, aren't you?" he asked softly and she nodded, but she felt as the first of many tears ran down on her cheeks.
"I miss him too, I miss Fred," she breathed. With uncertain steps he neared her and once again he held her tight. Her tears mixed with his.
[On 2nd May he felt the loss, he felt alone, and he felt the hole in his heart that could never be filled. He felt the loss, he was lost.]
The sorrow
He didn't open his eyes, because that would mean getting up, being ready for the new day.
He wasn't ready.
Not yet.
Not ever.
"Draco," a soft voice called out, a voice he knew well, a voice he loved to hear. However, he didn't react, because that would mean that he was up.
"I know that you are up." This time she was so close to him that he felt her warm breath on his face. Her soft skin touched his cheek and he automatically opened his eyes and turned towards the source of the touch and voice. His grey eyes met a pair of light green ones which were filled with emotions.
Her soft hands were still on his cheeks, but he pushed them away and closed his eyes again.
"Draco," she pleaded softly, but he ignored her attempts. She sighed and he guessed that she sat up.
"You shouldn't do this, Draco. You are behaving like some little child. I know what this day means to you and certainly... this isn't the right way to deal with it." Her voice wasn't velvety this time; instead it was strong and somewhat hurtful and insulted at the same time.
He opened his eyes just to see her expression. He looked up only to see her with crossed arms and a frown on her beautiful face.
"What do you want me to do, Tori?" he asked somewhat cruelly, but she didn't even flinch at his cold tone.
"I want you to face the memory of this day. I want you to be a man and for once try to be red and gold instead of silver and green," she said in a demanding, but pleading tone. He was no Gryffindor and she couldn't seem to understand that.
"Face the memory of the day, Astoria?" he asked and emphasized her whole name. He rarely used it, she didn't like it and he knew that well. She didn't seem hurt though, only annoyed and angry.
"You can't just hide under your quilt, Draco. You and I know that too. Stop being a coward," she stated and he let out a joyless chuckle. He cupped her face and forced her to look in his lifeless grey eyes.
"I'm a coward, Tori. I can't stop being something I am," he stated dryly and let his hands fall down and he broke the eye contact.
"This won't become easier. Are you ready to suffer for the rest of your life? Or are you ready to be the man you could be and face the memory of your past? I know that you did many things you aren't proud of, but it's time to let the past go," she stated emotionlessly, but he saw a traitor tear on the edge of her eyes.
"What if I'm not ready, Tori? What if I will never be ready?" he asked, his voice getting louder and louder. She just looked into his eyes.
"The sorrow for yourself, the guilt will eat you alive, Draco. You still think that you are the centre of the whole World; you think that your own sorrow, your past and your guilt is the worst. You are wrong, Draco. You could have a wonderful life, but you choose one which will kill you sooner or later," she concluded and he looked at her with high eyebrows.
"You don't understand anything, Astoria." His voice was so cold, the room felt chilly, but she only shook her head with a sad smile on her face.
"You don't understand anything, Draco. You are hiding, that's what you do. Get up, put on some clothes and leave the house. See that your own sorrow is nothing next to others'. You are being pathetic, Malfoy. You are behaving just like you father would," she told him, this time her voice was simply cold, emotionless and she got up. His expression changed quickly and rage took control over him.
"I'M NOTHING LIKE MY FATHER," he shouted and she turned back. Her eyes were focused on him and she was silent for a moment.
"Prove it, Draco," she said softly as she left the room. He watched as she walked away and promised himself that one day he would be strong enough to prove her.
[On 2nd May he felt the sorrow, he felt like a coward, and he remembered his past which could never be erased. He felt the sorrow, he felt guilty.]
The waste
"Percy, jam?" she asked and looked up when he didn't reply. His eyes were fixed on the front page of the newspaper and she sighed. She didn't need prophetic abilities to know what was there. Every year on that day the newspaper had a special edition, it was mainly about the war and all those who have gave their life for the freedom.
She knew well what made him froze. With a wave of her wand she made the paper fly out of his hand and caught it without a problem. He didn't even protest and he didn't even look up. She scanned through the paper only to notice the guilty paragraph.
Fred Weasley: Born on 1 April, 1978 to Molly and Arthur Weasley. He was a member of the Order of Phoenix and the Dumbledore's Army, and he was the co-founder of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
"You couldn't have stopped it," she stated, but he didn't react. She let out a desperate sigh and tried again. "Yes, you were a jerk, you were behaving like a total ass, but it wasn't your fault that Fred died," she said and he looked up. He always hated when she swore (which she did frequently) and he corrected her automatically.
"Don't swe..." he started, but then he closed his mouth and turned away.
"You are wasting his life, you know, his sacrifice," she stated and that seemed to have its effect. He fixed his blue eyes on hers, which always reminded him of lilac, even if whenever he said it to her she just waved him off. "You should live, you should be happy; have a full life, because he sacrificed himself so we can have a nice life. He would hate to see you this way," she stated and his expression changed.
"Audrey, you never knew him, don't tell me what he would do, because he is dead and he can't do anything," he said furiously, his voice getting louder and louder, but she just leaned back and put down the toast she has been holding.
"Maybe I've never known him, but I do you and I know that you are blaming yourself for his death. It wasn't you who have killed him, Percy. It was never you, Merlin; you couldn't have stopped it even if you were with your family the whole time. You have made some mistakes, everyone does, just try to forgive yourself," she cried out. He just looked at her for a long moment, but he didn't comment on her outbreak.
She got up and left her breakfast there. He stayed in the kitchen for a few minutes until he felt the strength in himself to get up. He looked at the newspaper for the last time, before looking for her.
He found her in the living-room sitting on a sofa. He sat down next to her without a word. She leaned against him and he put his arms around her.
"He shouldn't have died. I-I should have," he muttered, but she turned towards him and grimaced.
"No, you shouldn't have. Neither of you should have died, but we can't change what has happened. We can just live our life and try to have a life as full as we can, so his sacrifice wasn't a waste," she stated, but he shook his head.
"Then I've wasted his life... Fred wasted his life on a jerk like me," he stated and she sighed.
"You are a prat sometimes I admit it, but don't ever say anything like that," she said angrily and he just smiled at her sadly, the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"He wasted his life on me. I should have died," he concluded but so quietly that she couldn't hear. He planted a kiss on her forehead and she snuggled closer. He closed his eyes and thought about his younger brother's waste.
[On 2nd May he felt the waste, he felt like he should have died, and he thought that it was his entire fault. He felt the waste; he felt the sacrifice was wasted on him.]