Ghosts

"Ama…Amaline? Could you help me?" Percy called nervously as he stood in the Larrabee's tiny kitchen. Audrey's younger sister soon came in from the living room, walking awkwardly in her black flats as she tugged on her dark dress.

"Am I doing this right?" he asked desperately, holding the box of detergent in his hand as he stared at the dishwasher determinedly. Despite the sad occasion Ama couldn't help but laugh.

"There's a latch in the door you pour it in to," she offered with a smile, taking the box and showing him how to use the Muggle contraption. A wave of relief crossed his face at her help, allowing his attention to scan over the small kitchen he had been cleaning by hand to ensure he hadn't missed anything. Ama watched him as he took in the kitchen, and she could literally see him crossing off what he had done and planning his next steps to conquer the mess that had been made.

Ama liked Percy. He was by no means her sister's coolest or most attractive boyfriend, and he didn't seem to know more than a damn thing about Qudditch. But he was always there for Audrey and their family. He tried hard and genuinely seemed to like them, instead of pretending to just to stay in Audrey's good graces. He was wicked smart, had a fantastic memory, and was funny. Not classically or intentionally funny, it was really in his own way, but to Ama a laugh was a laugh.

"Of course I don't anticipate much laughter today," she thought as she looked down at her black dress. Ama hated dresses. They were too girly and too impractical to wear on a broomstick. But when Audrey came over that morning and laid the garment on the bed, Ama knew better than to protest. There didn't seem like much of a point arguing over what to wear to their father's funeral. She doubted she would ever be expected to wear the thing again.

Ama cast her gaze to the side as she helped put up the spices Audrey had used to make the breakfast no one had eaten. It had already been a long trying day and it only promised to get worse. Their grandmother had hardly said a word in the past week and half way through their meal she had stood up and marched to her room. Audrey, hardly in a better state, followed her with the door closed behind. David seemed more irritated than sad. The two had been pulled out of school for the week due to the occasion, and though neither would miss being with their family at a time like this he seemed grouchy in a way that made her think he missed class.

Ama wasn't sure how she felt. She was sad, sure, but there was something else grabbing her asides from her father's demise. Something that snagged her attention but eluded her every time she sat to think about it. Whenever something like this happened she usually went to her sister for help. Audrey was always good to talk to and helped her form her thoughts. But Audrey had been distant and distraught from the moment she had picked them up. She just kept smiling weakly, always looking as though she were about to cry though she never did. For the past few days Audrey had mostly just sat next to her grandmother, the pair sitting quietly as they suffered.

The mantle of action star was therefore taken up by Percy. It was he who had gone to St. Mungos and handled all the paper work. It had been he who had found the funeral plans made for Chris in case an event like this occurred, and it was he who had executed them diligently. Transportation, floral arrangements, the wake; all of these had been handled by Percy without the Larrabee's needing to bat an eye. She had been watching him take care of her family as they all reacted their own private ways, and it occurred to her that no one had thanked him yet. She was about to speak up and do so when another though passed through her mind.

Percy was smart. He had dealt with death. And while not like her sister she had come to see him as both an older brother and now a new resource of direction to tap. Without another thought she turned to him, allowing her first inclination to fall out of her mouth in order to sort out her worried feelings.

"Percy, do you remember what you were like when you were eleven?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Hmmm?" he hummed in response, seemingly only half listening as he went about trying to clean off a tile stain that was over forty years old.

"Do you remember things from when you were eleven?" she repeated seriously. Percy stopped his pursuit of cleaning, recognizing the weight of her tone and transferring his full attention to her.

"Sure, it was the year I started school and began the basics for learning magic…"

"Do you remember stuff about yourself?" she interrupted earnestly, honing in on just what she wanted to talk about. "How you felt about things and people, what you liked or disliked, specifically when you were eleven? Not just vague childhood memories."

Percy frowned as he reflected on the question, digging deep into the recesses of his mind to give an answer.

"I remember being happy to get away from home, having some time to myself and getting away from the twins and the whiny younger ones." he answered, taking a seat at the table. "But that first night I couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop thinking of how lonely it was without all of them. I also remember my strong aversion to Care of Magical Creatures…"

"What about your parents?" she pressed, taking a seat next to him with wide brown eyes. "Do you remember what you and your parents were like specifically at eleven?"

"Erm…I mean I guess they were proud of me for going to school and we missed each other…" Percy offered, feeling a little lost in the direction of conversation.

"That's all I can remember too," Ama replied, looking down at her lap. "I was eleven when Mum died and Dad had his accident."

"Oh…" Percy remarked, looking about the empty kitchen as the gravity of the conversation hit him. With no one else in sight he realized it was up to him to bring about some emotional comfort to this distraught teenager. He gulped as she continued.

"I mean eleven is old enough to have good memories, right?" she asked in worry, looking to him for confirmation. "And I do have memories. My dad teaching me to fly and my mom brushing my hair in the morning…only they all just seem so generic. Like they're just flashes of anyone's childhood. I can't seem to remember specific details. Like I know my dad had this really unique laugh but I can't remember what it sounded like. And a lot of times when I think of Mum I see Audrey in her place. I have to look at pictures to remind myself of how they looked different, but even still I just see Audrey."

"Ama, I…"

"I'm sad that they're dead," Ama continued, her penchant for getting her point across as strong as her sister's, "I wish they were still here because I felt like I didn't really get a chance to get to know them. But also I can't really remember what life was like back then since I am so used to the way things are now. Back then…well it feels like a distant dream. Does that make me a bad daughter?"

"No!" Percy interjected quickly. "No of course not! All this happened to you during an age when you were just starting to really be aware the way you are now. It's perfectly understandable…"

"I know it's understandable, but I feel like I am taking this all so lightly. I don't think I am much sadder now than I was when he was alive but at the hospital," she pressed guiltily. "And if I am being completely honest I almost feel…relieved. I'm not supposed to feel that, am I?"

Percy fell silent for a moment, staring in to Ama's large brown eyes as she eagerly awaited an answer. He hardly knew what to say. He sympathized with her and wanted to make her feel better. Nothing that she had said seemed like it was wrong, however he couldn't imagine how she felt. He dreaded the day his parents died, now more than ever. But he knew them well, not just as parents but also as people, so the loss would be almost doubled. He was never very good at this sort of thing and he hated failing Ama as she requested some comfort. So he merely did what he could, which was grabbing her hand and saying the only thing he could think of.

"I think you're allowed to feel however you want to feel," he offered simply. "There is no right or wrong way to think when someone you love dies. You love them, you miss them, but you find a healthy way to cope and move on. It's what they would have wanted."

This apparently seemed to be a proper thing to say, as instantly a slow but steady smile filled Ama's face.

"I know exactly how you feel," a voice called out from the living room. Percy and Ama both turned to see David walking into the kitchen, his tie perfectly straight even after using it to wipe his glasses. Percy caught a brief glimpse of his frightening scar and his blank left eye before he returned the glasses to his face.

"I remember Mum and Dad much more but a lot has happened. It's hard to remember what it was like when they were around," David replied matter-of-factly. "And I too am glad Dad's finally gone."

"David," Percy exclaimed quietly, shocked to hear the young prefect state something so bluntly.

"My father died a long time ago," David defended. "That man who lay in the hospital for so long was an empty shell. My father would have hated living like that and would have preferred death. It's better this way."

And then as an addition a soft smile filled his face as he looked at his little sister.

"Besides, now he gets to be with Mum."

Percy couldn't help but smile at this romantic statement from such a perfunctory young man. It seemed so foreign yet so in character for the only male Larrabee to say. Ama too seemed happy with the words, especially as it seemed to trigger a forgotten memory.

"Dad was always hopeless without Mum around," she added happily.

"You remember what it was like when he tried to cook us dinner when she was out of town?" David asked, grinning as he joined them at the table.

"She would go mental! He would wreck the kitchen looking for something he could never find, put everything back in the wrong place and then would just feed us ice cream sundaes!" Ama responded, a gleeful look about her face brought on by the memory. Percy joined in the laughter as David retold the story of when his father was put in charge of ordering for the week at their record store and they ended up with a 450 copies of the Thomason Twin's last album.

"They marked them down under a pound and still couldn't sell any of them," David explained through laughs, "I think they eventually just put them in a box outside and let kids take them to throw at moving cars or something."

The three of them gave out another round of laughter, silenced only when they heard the clearing of a throat.

"I hate to break up a good time," Audrey stated flatly, her face drained as she threw on her coat. "But it's time to go to the funeral."

Audrey's siblings both winced at her tone of voice and quickly stood up from the table, matching looks of guilt flashing across their faces as they grabbed their own coats. Percy frowned at the incident, but shook it off quickly to put his arm around Audrey's waist.

"What about Nana?" he asked, looking back at the closed bedroom door behind them.

"She's not coming," Audrey stated roughly, pushing his arm away as she reached for the car keys.

"What? Why not?" Percy asked in shock, taking a step back.

"Apparently after burying her parents, a husband and a daughter-in-law she is all mourned out," Audrey spat cynically. "David, Ama! I'm not going to tell you again!"

And with that she marched out the door, straight to the family's Volkswagen beetle.

"I couldn't find my jacket," Ama explained sadly as she paused to put it on by the door.

"You're alright, dear," Percy smiled, kissing her head before holding the door open for her. She was quickly followed by her brother who held a stony look about his face, one which made it seem like it had been years since he had smiled instead of seconds.

Percy couldn't help but frown again over Audrey's reaction at her siblings, but shook it off as he waved his wand to lock the door behind him.

Years later when Audrey looked back on her father's funeral she could still feel her head spinning the way it had that day. The whole thing was a blur. Only flashes ever came to mind:

The silence of the car ride.

The damp grass of the Muggle cemetery where her grandfather and mother had been laid to rest.

The sea of black and red as she was embraced by Weasleys of all calibers and their significant others.

The whimpered cries of baby Cara Grumman, shushed gently by her mother Valencia as her old boss Spiro spoke to her gently.

The solemn voice of the priest as he gave his funeral oration.

Yet despite remembering her feelings of dizziness and nausea, not much else about the occasion stuck. She didn't remember the color of her father's casket, or if she waved good-bye before they laid him in the ground. She couldn't tell anyone what kind of flowers lay between her parents' graves. She couldn't even remember if she had cried.

No, it was not what was there that Audrey had focused on that day, but rather that which wasn't.

An involuntary sigh slipped past her lips as she threw her head back upon the worn pillow. The old twin bed creaked from disuse as she stretched upon it. Above her head a faded star chart twinkled and turned according to the earth's rotation. If it had been any other time she would have recalled the first time she had been to Percy's old room at the Burrow, and smiled happily at the memory that it was while sitting on this very bed that she realized that she loved him.

But she did not want to think about happy things. By the sounds of the laughter and clangs downstairs the house was already far too cheery for such a day.

"Audrey, darling," a quiet and familiar voice called out from the door. Audrey sighed again, shifting over so her back faced the inquisitor. Apparently reading this as a sign of invitation, Percy walked into the room and sat gently on the edge of the bed.

"We're missing you downstairs," Percy offered lightly, rubbing her covered leg in affection. "Why don't you come down and eat something?"

"I'm not hungry," she stated bluntly. Then with a trace of bitterness she added:

"Besides, I'd hate to spoil all the fun everyone seems to be having at the wake by being moody over my father being dead."

"What? That's absurd!" Percy replied with an uncomfortable laugh. "Everyone is here because of your dad…"

"No!" she interrupted quickly, spinning around and facing him angrily. "No they are not! They are here for me, because you asked them to. Not one bloody person is here because of my father!"

She leapt of the bed, pacing to the window with angry steps.

"Honey, we're all terribly sad for your loss…"

"Yes, yes, my loss. You really hit it on the nose, as usual," she scoffed bitterly. "Everyone is here because they feel bad for me."

"Audrey, you have every right to be upset, I just don't understand…"

"My father was a great man!" she shouted at him furiously. "He made friends with everyone he met, played in countless bands, did charity work for the poor neighborhoods we used to live in, he touched countless lives. And where the hell are all those people?"

Percy's brow furrowed, the only action allotted in the time before Audrey started up again.

"Gone, that's where they are! Moved on with their own lives! And why did they do that? Because my father dropped everything after Mum died to make sure me and David and Ama were all safe. And how do we repay him? They don't even remember him!" she screamed, suppressed tears rolling down her face.

Percy stood frozen in place as he stared at her, his mind reeling as he grasped for the right thing to say.

"He's dead," she whimpered in a voice so low compared to her last outburst Percy could hardly hear her. "He's dead because of me. I wiped away his memory, killed him, and then wiped away everyone's memory of him."

"Audrey, don't talk like that," he pleaded, slowly wrapping his arms around her from behind. He exhaled safely when she didn't pull away. "This wasn't your fault. You loved your father and he loved you. Don't torture yourself, he wouldn't have wanted that."

"And how would you know that?" she snapped at him, jerking out of his hold. "How would anyone know what he would have wanted?"

"What kind of father would wish that upon his daughter?" Percy asked matter-of-factly, not considering his tone when he spoke. "And who wouldn't prefer death over what he was going through?"

"So you're happy he's dead, too?" Audrey shrieked hysterically, her heart racing and breaking all at once as the blood rushed to her cheeks.

"No! Audrey, of course not!"

"What a huge inconvenience I must be," Audrey stated darkly. "What a relief it must be for you to have one fewer of my family to deal with."

"You're upset, I get it sweetheart, but you're not thinking clearly! Please," Percy pleaded, reaching out to grab her hand. Audrey yanked it away as though disgusted. The look caused Percy to feel like he had been struck by a bolt of lightning.

"I need to get out of here," she muttered, shaking her head as she pulled out her wand.

"Let me take us home," Percy suggested quickly, fearing she may splinch herself if she Apperated in her state.

"We don't have a home," Audrey stated icily. She watched the hurt splash across his face at her statement. Percy literally stumbled back as though she had struck him with her fist.

"You need to stay at your place," she commanded, turning on the spot before he could respond or see the tears in her eyes.

Shite.

That's what she was.

Shite.

She felt like it, looked like it, thought like it, hell she probably even smelled like it. She couldn't remember the last time she had showered. While she closed her eyes each night and woke up every morning he sleep didn't seem to be sticking. Meals were sparse and forgettable. Work only seemed like a habit rather than a passion. Her whole body ached and she was in danger of breaking down anytime she looked at the red paint in front of her.

It had been a week since the funeral. A whole week since she had seen him, talked to him. She went straight to her flat and exploded in fear, anger and despair. After there was nothing left to break in her living room she collapsed into a heap on the floor as she cried for everything she had lost. She sobbed for her mother and father, for the way her siblings were forced to grow up, and how terribly she had treated the once person in the world who could actually make her feel better.

He had knocked on her door sometime in the night, though she had no idea if it had been minutes after she had left or hours. He called out for her, apologized despite not having done anything wrong and told her that he loved her. He pleaded for her to speak to him even if it was through a closed door.

"Just tell me what I can do to help you," he pleaded, his voice cracking as he fought tears. "I'll do anything."

The problem was she believed him. She knew if she just opened the door he would rush in and embrace her. She would cry hysterically in his arms as he stroked her hair, kissed every inch of her face and showered her with soothing sentiments and endearments. He would dismiss her wailed apologies, tell her she had every right to be upset, but emphatically state that she was not alone, that he would never let her be alone. He would kiss her through the tears, and the sobs and the snot and not even hesitate when she went from shaking like a child to demanding he take her as a woman. For a few blissful moments there would only be Percy and pleasure. Afterwards she would collapse into a heap, spent in every way possible, and wake up in the morning knowing that someday soon it would all be alright.

But she didn't want it to be alright. She didn't want to go on like nothing ever happened. She didn't deserve to feel good and be treated with all the care and affection Percy so eagerly wanted to give her.

She deserved to be treated like shite, because that's what she was.

It had been a week since she had last seen Percy, but every night he still came to her door and spoke to her. She refrained from speaking, afraid to even tell him to leave for fear of caving in. She tried to block out his voice but she was magnetically drawn to the sound.

"He's not going to wait around forever," a small, sane voice warned from inside her. "He'll wait longer than he should, and he'd forgive you quicker than you deserve, but not if you continue to treat him this way."

Audrey's hand trembled at her thought, causing ink to blot all over her latest invoice as her quill shook.

She knew she had to talk to him. Needed to. She ached for him and her depression was only intensified by his absence. If she could have two wishes in the world the second would be for him to walk through the door at that very moment so she could beg for his forgiveness and understanding. But she knew it wouldn't happen. He wouldn't risk having a fight at her work, just to have to leave with them either both feeling all the more miserable or wanting nothing but to escape back to her flat and let the rest of the world vanish around them.

"Tonight," she said out loud, as though this made it official. Tonight she would not only answer him at the door but open it. She would try to explain to him why she had been acting the way she had. All she wanted was someone else who knew her father as she did, someone else who truly understood what a supreme loss it was that he was gone. Not just someone who was his acquaintance before, or those who only knew him after the accident, or internalized him as "Audrey Larrabee's father", but someone who knew him for him. If she could never hear him sing "Golden Slumbers" to her again as she went off to bed, she wanted someone who knew he always hummed the chorus a final time before tucking her in. If he was to never laugh she wanted someone who could remind her what his favorite jokes were. If he was never going to save another soul, she wanted at least one other person who was grateful that Christopher Larrabee had at least been a presence in their own life.

Audrey sighed wretchedly. A part of her felt she was owed this. She needed someone who understood her on this and refused to talk to anyone until she got them. She didn't want condolences or questions asking how she was doing. She was still alive. She knew that if something were to happen to her there were plenty of people who would mourn and remember her. That's all she wanted for her father.

But another part of her, one which was growing more dominate, knew she was being childish. Her father's life happened as it happened. He wouldn't want her pushing everyone away just because they had never gotten to know him. And that's just what would happen if she continued to act like she was.

Her dark brown eyes shot over to the clock. It was still early. If she left now she could catch him at his Apperation point at the Ministry. Or wait for him at his house. Or just throw respect to the grindylows and catch him at work. She would give him no course for tears, and it wouldn't be the first time they had used his desk for something other than exception reports.

The ting of the bell caused her heart to skip as the front door opened. Percy had beaten her to it, she smiled. She rushed to the front, craving to embrace him and beg for his forgiveness.

Her running feet stopped so quickly when she saw who was at the door she nearly tripped.

"Hiya, Audrey-cat," the blonde haired man said sheepishly, giving her a smile that still floored her in spite of everything.

"Warren!"

Audrey stood in shock as her ex-fiancé presented her with a bouquet of sunflowers and a cup of coffee.