A/N: Thank you to all of those who FINALLY decided to review.
I REPEAT – It is GOOD MANNERS to review, we don't like drive-bys in RL, just like I (And others) don't like "read-bys" in FF. PLEASE REVIEW!!!
Ok, this is a little sad, so prepare your tissues!
ADDED DISCLAIMER: W. H. Auden, I'm only borrowing your poem, you can have it back now, IT"S NOT MINE
(for General disclaimer, please see my profile!)
Ttfn, DIZI
Ps: thoughts / internal monologues = PLAIN BOLD in inverted commas " ".
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
~ Living the life he would want us to lead ~
"When I hear somebody sigh "Life is hard"
I am always tempted to ask "Compared to what?"
- Sydney J. Harris – (American journalist)
-----------------------.------------------------.--------------------
Chapter 3 – Stop all the clocks....
The morning of The Hogwarts Battle's anniversary dawned bright and clear, not that Hermione Granger was awake to see it. Not long after the sun finally rose the only thing she was wondering in her half-asleep stupor was "Where in Merlin has that hard but deliciously warm pillow gone?"
"Hang on", Hermione's brain finally switched on, even though her eyes weren't open. "My pillow isn't hard, nor warm!"
Another moment of cognition. "and I DON'T remember going back to my room!"
With that her eyes opened to find a wall covered with little pieces of written-on paper, annotated and sketched diagrams, and splotches of something's unrecognisable.
"Where am I? I THINK I'm at the Weasley's but........... OH!"
Her eyes fell on a picture of two male mirror images. "of course! I'm still in Georges room..... I'm STILL IN GEORGES ROOM?!?!"
She quickly rolled over to find a male figure of stocky build, and a shock of ginger hair (reaching just past the persons ears), sitting on the edge of the soft mattress. Not wanting to disturb the silently sitting form, Helen's daughter moved softly onto her knees, and positioned herself behind the right-hand side of the younger twin.
This movement did not supply a response. After agonising minuets of strained silence the female on the bed finally spoke.
"H...hey."
"Hey."
"Well, it's a start", she thought. "H.....How are you feeling? I'm so sorry fo...."
"No. I'd like to thank you – it's the first night in a long time that I haven't had to suffer the nightmares."
The girls jaw dropped. "Nightmares?"
The male's head flopped even lower. "You really have no idea, do you Hermione?"
She wrapped her hand lightly over his shoulder, squeezing soft enough to give him reassurance – but not hard enough to hurt.
"He was my twin, no one else's – just mine. He always knew exactly what I was thinking before I did, and vice versa. He loved potions – while I did well, but it held no interest to me. Same with arithmancy. Fred would break down every single syllable to each new spell or charm, all ingredients or tasks in every potion, every magical endeavour we used in our inventions he analysed, till he knew it was safe. Then we made them. He always said he was too worried about either of us getting hurt to not use the time to check all the aspects thoroughly. He...he..." The red-head began to break down again. Hermione wrapped herself around him once more, letting his head drop on her shoulder.
Something about the moment, or maybe the heartfelt outburst from the Weasley that she usually wasn't very close to, stirred a long forgotten memory of well-published verse in her head. For some unknown reason she thought it was appropriate for him to hear it, and she hugged him closer to her.
"He was your north, your south, your east, your west. Your working week, and your Sunday rest....."
His head lifted from her, and for a moment all she could do was fall deeper and deeper into the crystal blue depths hidden so plainly on his face, before slowly pulling herself away.
"I'm sorry George, I shouldn't have said...."
He put his right-hand fingers over her mouth, stopping the flow of her apology.
"How ... how do you do that? How do you take the words right out of my heart and make them sound so... elegant?"
The muggleborn blushed. "Don't thank me, thank W. H. Auden. I'm just a muggle-raised witch who can quote him."
George sat up straighter, maybe an act (Hermione wasn't sure) but stated to show some life in his long- dead cerulean eyes.
"I wish I could hear the rest of it – it sounds ...interesting"
Hermione Grangers curiosity was raised. The one way (she thought) that she may just get through to the last hellion of the Weasley clan, and return him to the land of the living, was through Muggle Poetry?
"I...I have the complete works of Auden in my trunk, plus some other poets, if your interested?"
The softest of smiles graced his sun-deprived face.
"I'd like that Hermione, I'd like that a lot".
That he said that surprised her even further, but she would not show it outwardly. She knew, if he was his old self, he would be teasing her about the "entire British Museum Library" her school trunk had seemed to become.
Instead, and by some grace that God (or even Merlin himself) had given her, she was out of his door like a shot and up to her truck – barely missing (and not even registering) Molly sitting on the bottom stair outside her sons room. Her only thought being "I have to get him to smile again like that. I'm not going to let him fall back now!"
-----------------------.------------------------.--------------------
Molly was aghast! He was talking! He was...responding! For months the only communication she had had with her middle son was in a monosyllabic tone and didn't seem to stretch further then a few words, sometimes managing a half decent sentence. But to hear that conversation! However short it was!
"Thank Merlin! Maybe he will truly be ok!"
With that final thought, and a quick turn, she raced down the stairs to the family awaiting her presence so they could leave for the memorial. Her original intention going upstairs had been to come and ready the two bed-hogs for the day long festivities, but now that George was finally seeming to get somewhere, she could not stop his healing now. The graves would be there tomorrow, and the next day. They could wait.
Tearing her gaze away from lingering on her inventor-of-a-sons doorway, she joined the quorum of red-heads flooing towards the historic school, leaving the brightest witch of her age and the most inventive wizard in living memory, to heal together.
-----------------------.------------------------.--------------------
"There it is"
Hermione, after finally securing the sonnets and some other tomes, finally found the copy of Auden that had been avoiding her in the very bottom her book bag. "Just what was it doing in there for?", and began to pace back down to the solitary Weasley's room.
Just as she entered the room she heard the sounds of the final flooing of the Weasley's, and remembered exactly why today was so important. "The memorial!"
"George?", she asked uneasily, as she sat back beside him, "The rest of your family has left for Hogwarts.... Do.....do you want to join them?"
The light that had so shortly appeared in his eyes seemed to dim just a tad. "Not today Hermione, I'm....I'm not ready yet".
"But I know we are both ready to hear some more Auden!", she said as she held up her collection of books, trying to bring back the smile to his pale freckled visage.
A flicker of a smile shone through his sadness, so she crossed her legs, sat facing the young man, and began to read.
"Funeral Blues.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round........"
And so the day continued, long into night-time, remembering those loved and lost, through the immortal words of poetic artists.
-----------------------.------------------------.-------------------------------------.------------------------.--------------------
A/N: Hey guys..............
What do you think? Its getting longer, and I'm liking where it is going!
Can you believe I printed out my draft notes of the chapter and TOOK THEM TO CHICAGO (the stage show, not the city). We had to arrive two hours early (my mum insisted, for parking reasons) so I sat in the bar and HAND-WROTE notes about this (2 sides A4, and 3 small notebook pgs back2back).
Yes, we KNOW I am mad, this is just proof!!!
Also, for some strange reason, I'm "Hp"-ing "Funeral Blues". It will be up soon, so keep looking for it!
Anyways.................... I know I broke my rule about 6 reviews. But I will NOT put up chapter 4 UNLESS THE REVIEWS INCREASE! There are people who have alerted this story and DO NOT REVIEW! I know who you are! Do not mess with the angry writer when she discovers you are doing a read-by!
Ok, vent over. ttfn DIZI
