ON THE WEST OF THE WORLD
Word Count: 917
Author: Potty and Weasel
Disclaimer – Sadly, not mine. Ever.
Enjoy. I do apologise if it doesn't make sense to you.
Sometimes you live in a world where everything is clouded, the greys become rainbows and blacks are suddenly a blinding white. It doesn't seem to matter that you're late or that your city is a heartless, soulless machine, which is slowly draining the life out of you, because everything is fine, just fine.
"When Rosie fell ill it was summer. Blue skies, puffy white clouds, blooming flowers. She was diagnosed with some rare disease they think she picked up from one her potions experiments. She always loved experimenting."
And then there are those days. The ones where everything is off the rails, your heart bleeds across the concrete and not even a homemade chocolate brownie cheers you.
"I remember standing over her with a basket and a rug and dragging her outside to enjoy the sun. She kept telling me she'd burn and I kept miming shock that she'd never solved that problem. Rosie was allergic to the current potions and hated the muggle sunscreens, it had been a long-standing joke that one day she'd crack and make some form of spell or potion which didn't aggravate her rather temperamental immune system into leaving her with a rash."
You know that, in the end, things may seem some kind of alright. But now, in this moment, your world spins apart and your heart explodes in fragments and it's everything you can do not to just lie down forever with you, my love. Because you know this might be the very last goodbye – it doesn't get easier from here, every day makes it worse – so you say goodnight and goodbye and I will see you tomorrow (even though you know that you might be lying).
"She was at school before me, trailblazing her way through. I always looked up to her, redheads have to stick together, you know? And she never once disappointed. Gods, I remember being stuck on this problem for Arithmancy one day and she just sat me down and worked me through it until I finished it. It didn't even matter to her that Scorpius was constantly leaning over her shoulder, at this point he had decided that he wasn't gay, so he felt he had to win her over, the only girl not interested in him, to prove it – typical boy. I think she knew he loved Albus before he did."
You never realise how small hospital beds make people seem.
"It was a standing joke at family dinners, Rosie's inability to eat these funny things – and the resulting rash, which always seemed to match her hair. Vine leaves, raw bananas, cucumber skins, blackberries. We always thought uncle Ron found it a little perturbing, his darling daughter unable to partake in all of the glory of one of his favourite pastimes."
Just, like a boat floating on the Endless Sea. Drifting in and out but never docking (never again, the voice says. Shut up, you tell it), always drifting. A train of red and a shape of girl but a heart of gold.
"People, and by that I mean me originally, thought she'd be some shy, bookish girl who was unwilling to ever have fun but they underestimated the Weasley gene. I've never seen anyone party quite like Rosie; she played like she worked – ferociously. There was one time, after she'd confined herself to her potions lab almost a whole fortnight, when she came out with us and damn, I've never seen anyone drink that many people under the table at once. For all she couldn't even finish a whole banana she could sure best some of the best party animals in her live hard attitude."
It's time to come to terms with this, this last goodbye, this last of last hurrahs.
"It took gumption to live with her, even when she was younger. No one ever bested her in a war of wits once she hit seven – Mum was always as proud as she was exasperated. I am rather ashamed to say I used to bribe her – she had the worst sweet tooth – so she would fight for my cause, which was normally an extended bedtime. I was so lucky she didn't begrudge me anything, else wise I'm sure she would had made my life absolute hell."
Don't make me say it (you know you have to, eventually).
"Rosie was the best of us. The smartest, the most intuitive, the most patient. The brightest. But, I guess, the brightest stars burn out the fastest. Everyone says that it's that that makes them all the more beautiful. I dunno, Rosie was always beautiful."
It should have been sad, this motley collection of family and friends ringed around a headstone, clutching flowers and cards and gifts. But it wasn't.
They are a clan, a bright and shining collection, who again and again put their hearts on the line. Every so often they lose Merlin's beard! Rosie, what have you done? Hugo, HUGO! We need to move her! but they'll keep throwing passion and life at anyone who stands still enough to take it.
They are more than the sum of their parts, which only serves to make them greater still.
"It's been ten years and not a day goes by when I don't think of you, my dearest friend. I sometimes wake up and listen for you, wait for you to materialise with some new potion to test on me.
"I miss you, Rosie."
Daughter. Sister. Cousin. Aunt. Friend. Lover.
A fire which burnt out.