A/N: I own nothing of the Harry Potter series. All belongs to JK Rowling. I own the only the story line.
Two years later.
I stare at the big family clock, with all my beloved family's faces on it. I recently added Harry and Hermione in last year; love doesn't limit you to your own family. Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hermione. And then there's me, of course.
I added Harry in simply because I wouldn't want to worry about him all the time. Boy's gone wild since Sirius's death; from destroying Horcruxes to killing You-Know-Who. He's now an Auror, currently posted in Luxemburg.
I know i would'nt have to worry about Hermione much, simply because she's Hermione Granger. She just sits in her office at the Ministry, working a 12-hour shift to "take her mind off things", poor soul. She drowns herself in so much work, I'm surprised she even has time to visit us during the weekends.
Ginny's been locked up in her room since the war ended. I hear her crying her eyes out all the time, sometimes in the middle of the night even. The only time she ever leaves her room is to use the loo. I think she's stopped eating thirteen months ago and I've stopped cooking large meals for the family.
What good is there if no one eats? The only time I hear cutlery on porcelain is during happy occasions, like on Bill and Charlie's birthdays, but the atmosphere was so thick and fake, the family actually gave up on pretending.
That Fred isn't around anymore.
George took it the worse, of course. When he leaves the Burrow, he walks to the wheat field behind our house and I hear him yelling. Hear him let out his frustration and anger. And he comes home with tears in his eyes, pretending he didn't just come back from screaming his lungs out every other day. Pretending that he's fine with his brother's passing. Pretending, just pretending.
Then I cry, too. Because I miss Fred just as much as the others do. It's not fair that Arthur and I have to put on a facade for the family, to be the stronger bonds that hold this broken family together. I cry at night, too. When everyone's dead asleep, when there's no one around the Burrow to hear me.
I sigh and turn away from the clock to the kitchen. Fleur's coming over to help prepare dinner. I take a handful of cutlery, placing them precisely where each family member would sit. Place the plates on the table. Place the plates monogrammed with the letters 'F' and 'G' next to each other.
It's Fred's death anniversary. It's 2nd May.
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