Turned to Dust

Chapter one

Seven years later

December 24-Christmas eve-Home

I've learnt two things today:

1. Life isn't fair. It's something they tell you a lot when you're little. When you don't get the new broom you wanted for Christmas, or when your little sister gets to watch what she wants on TV instead of you. But not many people ever actually understand what it means. Lucky for them.

2. My cancer, which for a whole fucking year I've been fighting and trying to hide from my cousins, has progressed. It's terminal. So many stupid fucking hours of throwing up because of those muggle treatments, crying by myself gone to waste. What's even the point anymore? I have five months. What can you do in five months? Someone trying to inspire me might say a lot, but it's not true. You can't do anything. I'll have barely enough time to breathe before that's it. The end.

I don't want to die! Who does? I'm scared, terrified even. What happened to Gryffindor bravery? Why can't I stand up and say I'll fight? Why am I cowering away in a bathroom hiding from the world, trying to pretend I can't hear Dad crying in his bedroom? I'm Freddie Weasley, I'm supposed to be the one that helps Dad through everything, the one who comforts him whenever he accidentally catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and cracks jokes and pretends to be somebody that I'm not just to make him feel okay. But if I'm not going to be here anymore…

I can't see Dad coping. I can't see Dad ever managing to get out of bed in the morning again. He won't even be able to open his eyes without feeling the constant moaning ache of knowing that you're never going to turn around and see their face again. I know the feeling so well.

I'll have to tell everyone else as well. I can't just lie any more, now that it's inevitable. How can I do that to them? What are they going to say, what are they going to do? Lucy's so young, I can't ruin her life like that. And James, everyone knows how protective he is over his family. He's going to go mad, he'll be so angry, heaven knows what he'll do. I can see everyone else's faces as well: Lily, Hugo, Dom, Molly, Albus, and all the rest. I'm so selfish, how can I fucking do this to them?!

And what about Mum? She's home from her day out now. She missed my appointment today. She had gone out before we got the owl requesting us. I owled her to tell her we went, and now I can hear her searching through the house for us, calling out Dad's name, and then mine. I can feel her panic building when she walks into her and Dad's room to find Dad clutching the pamphlets, tears streaking down his cheeks. She's trying to deny it, and pretend it's not real, looking for another explanation even though she knows there isn't one.

"Freddie!" She yells, and I can hear her banging on doors, tears in her voice. "Freddie!"

I don't say anything. What can I say?

"F-Freddie!" She pounds on the bathroom door hard, realising where I am and hammering it with her fists, in near hysterics.

I lower my head, leaning my cheek against the cold, hard edge of the bath and trying to cling on to the certainty, the reality of it. I shake my head. This isn't real. It's just a dream. In a minute I'll wake up and it'll be a year ago and none of this will have ever happened and I'll be able to talk to Dad without having to see the constant fear in his eyes.

"A-Alohamora." My eyes are shut but I can hear the door swing open slowly, feel Mum drop to the floor beside me and take me up in her arms. "F-" She gasps, as if she can't even say my name any more, "It's… Isn't it?"

I can't do anything but shake my head, leaning into her chest and feeling her arms around me so tightly it hurts.

"No." My voice is all wrong, the words coming in deep, shuddering gasps as I stare off into emptiness, unblinking and trying to bite down the incessant terror. "G-Go to Dad. He needs you more."

She shakes her head, clutching me tighter. "No, Freddie, I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm- we're going to do." She's struggling, trying so hard to stay calm and not panic or do anything to upset me. "I-I'm going to- We're going to-" She shakes her head and clutches me in desperation, her nails digging into my arms.

"Please listen," I beg, and my voice is croaky and weak. "Please. I don't want you to have to see me like this. I want you to remember me ha-"

"No!" She half yells, "No. No. No. We're going to find a way. I don't care how. Muggle treatments, foreign treatments, something. You can't just give up."

I shake my head slowly, "No, Mum. I'm tired. I don't want any more stupid treatments, I don't want you to have to cry for me, I want…" I shake my head, "No, Mum."

Her face has fallen into a flat line, not showing any emotions whatsoever any more. It scares me, she almost looks inhumane.

"Please," I beg, "Go to Dad."

"SO HERE IT IS, MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYBODY'S HAVING FUN! LOOK TO THE-"

Roxy bursts through the door, clutching several shopping bags, a large grin on her face which immediately disappears as she sees me. She rushes forwards, dropping her bags and sitting down by my side, putting an arm around me and hugging me tightly.

"Freddie?" She asks.

I don't reply, simply staring downwards and trying to hold back my tears.

"Merlin, Freddie what's-?" She pauses and breathes out, looking downwards. "You've been fighting again haven't you? You need to stop this. He's your Dad, and he's worried about you, we all are. But it's Christmas, can't you just try and get along for once? If not for your sake then for his, please-"

I shake my head sadly, "No, it's not that," I swallowed, "It's worse, it's-"

I can't tell her. How can I? She's my baby sister, she'll be so hurt. I have to protect her, lie, tell her I'm fine… But no. Stupid clever Ravenclaw sister. And I'm a bad liar anyways. It won't work, I can't-

"This morning we were called into St. Mungo's, they said it was urgent, and Dad took me, and we got there, and- and-"

I brush the tears from my eyes, muttering the words quickly, getting it over with as fast as I can, trying hard to stop my voice from shaking.

"F-Five months, Roxy."

Her face falls, her eyes going wide. "P-please," She stammers, her whole body shaking as she clings to my arm, a few tears spilling over, "Please God tell me you don't mean-"

I shake my head, putting my arms around her and trying to stop her from shaking so much.

"I'm so sorry, Rox."

December 25th-Christmas day-The Burrow

No-one says anything when me and Roxy turn up at the Burrow alone. We just tell them that Dad is having one of his 'bad days', and they smile and nod sympathetically, with Ginny promising that she'll pop over later to see him and give him whatever Christmas Pudding is left after James has had his annual five servings.

Only Harry looks suspicious, noticing how pale and drawn me and Roxy both look, our eyes red from crying and our skin pale from lack of sleep. The others are too busy laughing and swapping presents. He glances sideways at me, trying to be discreet about spying. It's his job, I suppose, as an Auror, to notice things. He's good at it too. We eat dinner and I can see him watching my plate, and quietly calculating as I discreetly pass all of my food down to his dog, Snuffles. Roxy isn't eating either, but at least she's attempting to make near normal conversation with Rose and Lily.

"Oi Freddo! Pass the gravy." I'm jolted out of my thoughts by James, who reaches out his long, gangly arms to reach for the Gravy, which is sat in front of me.

I don't move for a second, staring at the gravy and trying to make sense of the words.

"Dude? Freddie? You ok?" Hugo pipes up from my right, everyone staring at me, and I can feel Roxy holding her breath.

I shake my head, coming back to my senses, "What? Yeah, I'm fine, I just-" I reach out to pass James the gravy, still half in my own world. "I need- I mean-" I stand up, looking around, "I'm just going for some air."

I head over for the door, opening it and walking out, hearing someone behind me (probably James) say, "He'll be alright, probably just PMS." And then a loud wince as someone else kicks him under the table.

I walk a little way, and then flop down on the snow, ready to throw up the half slice of turkey that was the only thing I managed to force myself to eat.

It doesn't make sense. How can this be happening? I can't… die. Everything'll be fine, Dad or Mum or Harry will find some miracle cure that I haven't tried yet, and someday we'll be able to look back at this and laugh. Or maybe the doctors were wrong, maybe they misread something. Maybe I'm not terminal after all. Something has to be wrong because this can't happen to me. I can't be-

No. I remember at St. Mungo's yesterday, he kept going on about stages or something, like five stages, Denial, anger, something, something, acceptance. I remember denial at least, and stop my thoughts in their tracks. I'm not going to fall into some category; I can't just let my emotions take over.

I close my eyes and shake my head. Alright, Freddie… terminal. It's just a word, nothing to be afraid of. This isn't a dream, this is reality, and it's horrible… But it's real, and you're going to die, and it's just something you're going to have to learn to accept.

I breathe out slowly, and then jump as someone clamps a hand down on my shoulder.

"H-Harry, wha- Hi."

I swallow and smile at him, trying to look convincingly happy.

He sits beside me and looks out over the garden.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" He asks, peering at me seriously over the top of his glasses.

My eyes tear up slightly and I shake my head, biting back the tears because I am not going to cry. Not ever. I haven't cried since I was eleven years old. I'm Freddie the Gryffindor and I do not cry.

"Freddie?" He asks again, concern in the edge of his voice.

He knows about the cancer. All of the Adults do. I've told them not to let anyone else know because I can't bear the idea of more people than necessary having to suffer because of me. Ignorance is bliss.

Harry sighs. He must have realised that I'm not going to speak to him. He looks at me sideways and then up at the sky. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?" He asks quietly.

I shrug, tearing up because it is beautiful. It's so, so beautiful and I don't want it to end.

"Freddie, you need to tell me what's wrong, because I can help you. I don't know what it is, but if you're scared to talk about it then you know I'm not going to tell anybody, I just want to help you."

"No. You can't help me. It doesn't work like that…" I screw my eyes tightly shut, trying to numb my mind against what I know's going to happen happen once he knows. "I'm terminal, Harry."

Out of the corner of my eye I see Harry deflate, placing his head in his hands and staying still for a few seconds.

"Okay." He mutters, nodding slowly and looking up at me, "Okay. George is…?"

"Not doing so well." I finish for him, "He's… I haven't seen him since yesterday. He hasn't left his room. I think Mum's trying to help him, but…" I shrug, Harry must get the picture.

He nods slowly, looking down and then back up at me. He's calculating, trying to figure out what he can say or ask.

"What about you?" He looks into my eyes, "Are you… okay?"

I sigh and laugh weakly, "Harry, I don't think terminal illness is synonymous with being 'okay'."

"Freddie…"

I can feel him getting ready to give me some kind of speech, to try and motivate me like he has done so many times over the past year.

"Listen, some people live more in eighteen years than others do in eighty. It's not about how long-"

"Oh shut it, Harry!" I burst suddenly, jumping to my feet and for the first time letting my rage and terror overflow, "I don't need another of your bullshit motivation speeches! I'm not on some bloody Horcrux quest, I'm out to kill some dark wizard, you don't 'understand', not this time. You can't always help everybody, whether you're the bloody boy who lived or not! I just want you to leave me alone!" The last word comes out as a strangled sob, and I wipe my eyes viciously, trying hard to keep on glaring at him.

He opens his mouth to scold me, and then shuts it again, dropping his head

I stand still, shaking with rage. I like to think it's rage. Really, I know its fear. Plain, bleak, empty terror that I know will never go away no matter what I do.

"I'm going back inside." I mutter, lowering my voice glancing over towards the house. "Merry Christmas, Harry."

I leave him sat by himself and wrench the door open, to be met by James, Lily, Molly, and Albus, who fall through the door, almost landing on top of me, clearly having been eavesdropping. From their expressions I know they've heard what I shouted at Harry. James looks practically in awe.

"You need to tell me what you did to him," James laughs, grinning, wide eyed, "No-one talks like that to my Dad."

I shake my head and push past them. "Piss off, James.

It's a miserable Christmas.

Roxy, me, Lily, James, Lucy, Molly, Hugo, Rose and Albus are gathered in the front room, squashed onto the old sofa watching Muggle singers on TV. Vic, Dom and Louis are in France with their parents, and Harry has gathered everyone else, the adults, into the kitchen for a 'talk'.

Lucy, next to me, takes my hand, giving it a quick squeeze. At least someone is trying to be sensitive.

To his credit James is my best friend, and he's trying to deal with everything the best way he can; by cracking jokes and stuffing his face with chocolate.

Actually it's kind of disgusting. The way he's just stuffing his face with more and more chocolate before he barely even has time to swallow. It would be gross even without me already being nauseous. I can't help but stare, engrossed, until-

"I'm going to throw up."

I leap to my feet and dash towards the bathroom, where I vomit noisily down the toilet. Looking up, I see everyone gathered in the doorway, staring, concerned at my pale, shaking figure.

I raise a shaking hand and, with more effort than I can bear to find, push myself to my feet.

"Sorry. I think I must have caught the flu." I lie easily, leaning against the sink to steady myself. "C'mon, let's just go and enjoy Christmas. I'm alright."

We head back through into the living room, with Lucy clutching at my hand the whole time.

She might be the youngest, but she's easily the most perceptive of everyone. She knows that there's something wrong.

We sit back down on the sofa, and I try to smile and laugh with the rest of them, ignoring the worried glances they being shot at me every few seconds.

The door to the kitchen opens and Harry sticks his head out. "Freddie?" He asks, "Would you mind?" He gestures behind him into the kitchen, and I stand, smiling reassuringly at Lucy as I go.

I sit on a stool in the corner of the kitchen, avoiding everyone's eyes as I walk in. After a few seconds I try a glance upwards, but my eyes meet Gran's, and this horrible empty pit opens up in my stomach.

Tears stream down her face, and she's clutching a tissue over her mouth to quell her sobs. She's shaking, her mouth keeps mouthing silently, but I can't tell what it is that she's trying to say. Granddad holds onto her shoulders, nodding once at me and then looking away towards the floor.

"Alright," Harry says, after far, far too many seconds of silence. "Some decisions are going to have to be made, and we don't believe that George and Angelina are in a position to be able to rationally make those decisions yet."

I nod, not looking at any of them properly. I feel sick again, but it's a different kind of sick this time. Not vomit sick; 'curl up into a ball and die because it's not ok and nothing will ever be ok' sick.

Unable to help it, I shiver slightly, despite it being so warm inside the burrow.

Audrey crosses the room slowly, draping an arm around my shoulders. I've never been exactly fond of Percy's wife before, and now I simply shove her away, not bothering to keep the loathing out of my eyes.

She looks a little embarrassed as she walks back over to Percy, who puts an arm around her, watching me expressionlessly.

What's Harry waiting for? Why doesn't he just speak already? I can't stand the silence; it's like knives cutting into my skin.

I look over at Harry, trying to hide the fact that my lip keeps trembling. I'm shivering all over now, and I don't understand why he's not speaking. He's stood still, lips pressed together, a little way away from Ginny, who's watching me with the same expression Percy wore before, of complete expressionlessness.

"Y-You'll look after him won't you?" I ask shakily, if only for need of a way to break the silence, "Dad, I mean."

I glance at each of their faces, for the first time noticing Hermione, who's clinging around Ron's neck, her eyes already red and swollen.

"'Course," Ron mutters grimly, "We'll make sure he's fine, I swear."

"Look, Freddie," Ginny begins, "We just need to talk over some stuff. It's not… pleasant, but what we want is to ensure that mentally and physically you're alright."

"Physically alright?" I repeat, trying to keep the hint of a laugh in my voice, "Ginny, you know what terminal means, right?" I force a broken and trembling half smile onto my face before giving up and dropping my head into my hands, sobbing mercilessly, right in front of everyone. Normally I'd be ashamed, but I'm just too numb to care at the moment.

Someone rests their hand on my back, and at first I flinch away, then, giving up, lean into them, feeling arms wrap around me and hug me tenderly. I have a small internal fight, trying to force myself to pull away and wipe off my tears so that no-one has to see this.

It doesn't work.

I'm left clinging helplessly to- I'm pretty sure that it's Ginny, by the pale, perfumed scent, but my eyes are screwed shut so tightly I'd never know for sure.

I can feel her looking up, and I know she's exchanging a look with Harry; I've seen them do it before. She gently strokes the back of my head, and I wince slightly, gulping and detaching my arms from around her, wiping my face, staying still for a few seconds with my eyes closed, attempting to regain some kind of control.

Ginny leaves her arm around me. She looks worried, but at least she's not crying like Hermione or Audrey.

"Fred," Harry sighs, walking forwards and crouching down in front of me so that he can look me in the eye. "We-"

I'm saved by the loud ringing sound that announces there's someone at the door. Harry looks up.

"Neville," He mutters, looking over in the direction of the others. "Why don't all of you go off and see them. Me and Ginny'll take Freddie upstairs and talk to him. I think-" He glances at me and nods, "I don't think he's ready for everyone to know just yet so can we try…" He mimes wiping his eyes. "Hermione? You alright?"

She nods, and Ron uses his sleeve to gently dab at her eyes, looking slightly dumbstruck and trying his hardest not to stare at me.

I hear Hermione exhale slowly, and she uses the back of her hand to brush the remaining tears from her cheeks, forcing a rather convincing smile.

Percy heads over towards the door as Ginny guides me towards the stairs. Before we can begin to ascend, I turn around.

"Wait." I say, "Te-Tell everyone I had another fight with Dad," I gesture towards the room where my cousins are sit, still unknowingly watching Muggle TV, "They'll believe that, they know what things are like."

Ron nods, but Harry's eyes go hard, "Another fight? What things are like?" He shakes his head, "Freddie, why do we not know about any of this?"

I shrug and look down, walking up the stairs and onto the landing, where Harry guides me into Dad and Uncle Fred's old bedroom.

I sit down on one of the beds, with Ginny beside me and Harry on the bed opposite, both of them watching as I sit, head in my hands.

"Freddie," Harry asks quietly, "Can you look at me?"

I glance up quickly and then straight back down. I've begun to tremble again, and Ginny puts her hand on my shoulder.

"No, look at me properly. Please."

I look up and this time hold his gaze, my teeth beginning to chatter.

"Freddie," He reaches over and takes one of my hands, searching my eyes, "I know you're scared, and I know you don't want to talk to any of us right now, but we're here. Any time you need us, we're here."

A few tears spill over, dribbling down my cheeks and dropping down onto the bedsheets where my namesake once slept.

Harry leans forwards, pausing for a few seconds before asking the question I know has been burning in his mind for the last hour. "How long?"

I've been expecting this, and I manage not to break down. I rummage through my brain, trying to find the number, but something's changed. It's not like yesterday. It's like I've tried to bury it from myself. I think back to St. Mungo's, with Dad, and I can see the healer, see his lips moving, but I can't hear anything, all I can hear is Dad's moan of anguish-

"F-five." I choke, "F-five months."

I'm practically hyperventilating now, my breath coming in deep, gasping shudders.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't mean to- I mean… I'm sorry." I whisper.

I curl up into Ginny's arms once more, listening to their quiet discussion, well aware that I'm in no state to be able to listen in.

A few minutes pass, and Ginny sits me up, indicating that it's time to talk.

"Alright Freddie," Harry says, a new sense of purpose in his voice, "You need to be brave now. I know it's difficult, but you need to be brave. You can do it."

Ginny nods, "Yeah, it's alright." She glances at Harry and they share a look. A few seconds pass as she wipes a tear from my face. "Do you want to go back to school?" She finally asks, "Of course you aren't expected-"

"Yes." I cut her off before she can even finish her sentence, "I'm going back. You can't stop me from going back."

Harry smiles gently, "We're not going to force you to do anything. You're old enough to make your own decisions."

"But what we do need is for you to make sure you spend enough time with George and Angelina." Ginny adds, glancing from me to Harry. "This is harder on them than anyone, especially for George, and we need to make sure that they're ok too."

Harry frowns, and leans forwards once again, "Now you need to tell us about these fights, Freddie. What's going on? You need to tell us so that we can sort it out, because you two fighting isn't right, especially now."

I frown, and shake my head. "You're wrong, it doesn't matter anymore." I whisper, my chest tightening. "Dad's happy now anyway. It's all he's ever wanted isn't it; for me to be more like Uncle Fred."

Okay, Hello. Second story. Don't think I've forgotten about Beloved, It'll always be my Baby! :D

Anyway, this is something that's happening in an RP I'm part of, where I'm Freddie. And I thought it just needed writing out and sharing with the world. I've changed a lot of things, so not much apart from my original Cancer plot is left. So I can take credit for the ideas in here and stuff (Yeah, yeah, JK rules all and the characters and stuff belong to her and her legendaryness. I would think that was obvious)
Anyway, I'm completely unhappy with what I've written, I think it all seems too rushed, and I'm not sure about the tense or person. So depending on whatever feedback I get, I can either carry it on as it is, or go back and rewrite this whole chapter accordingly.
One Million hugs and kisses to reviewers or story favouriters, and to anyone who actually even reads this. I love you all 3
Hannah :)
(P.S. For anyone who's read my other story and is wondering; I do love George. I'm not just hurting him for fun. No-one cried more than me when Fred the first died. Idk why all my stories end up being horrible to George. They just do *le shrug*)