Chapter Four: The First Funeral
A/N: Woot! Bit longer this time too. Sorry for the delay in updating, folks, busy busy days. While it may be the Summer Holidays, I have a job from 9-5:30 most days, and I'm going out tonight, which means I may be able to update again tomorrow afternoon? Fingers crossed.
So, this is quite a sad chapter and not as light-hearted as previous ones, in response to the 'Harry seems a bit light-hearted' Well, yes, he did- he's become more of an optimist, trying to forget the bad things, but it really hits him hard these next couple of chapters. What can say? Rowling killed Fred! Meanie.
In response to LiOn3ss, I would never get sick of your reviews! And to the constant corrections of grammar and spelling, I'M SO SORRY. I often don't edit properly because I'm rushing to get it online. Hey, this is written so fast it's still warm!
.o0o.
The next morning, Harry fished out some black robes from Sirius room- one of the few places Kreacher had left and which Harry wanted to sort through himself. Dressing slowly, he had a light breakfast of toast and marmalade, and instructed Kreacher to continue with the cleaning and clearing, after reminding him that he was doing a very good job. The house-elf beamed. Harry found himself wondering what the Blacks had treated him like, hopefully not like Sirius.
"Kreacher is pleased to be Master Harry's house-elf, if he cannot serve the Blacks." Squeaked the house-elf, as if reading Harry's mind.
Harry nodded and, deciding it had been way too long since he had ridden a broom properly, Harry gathered up his new Firebolt and set off under the invisibility cloak.
He new roughly were the Burrow was, having flown to it one time before, and recognised local landmarks as he went, particularly the remains of the Lovegood's home, which looked as though it were being rebuilt in the shape of the chess piece of the Queen. Once he saw that, Harry knew he was close; it was only a few minutes later that the topsy-turvey silhouette of the Burrow appeared before him.
Harry landed next to the kitchen door and placed him broom outside the step. As usual, the Weasley table was full, not a chair to be found, but there was still something about the atmosphere that hinted something was missing.
Hermione was already there, sitting on Ron's lap, whether it was for lack of chairs or some other reason Harry didn't really know. Percy was with Mrs Weasley in the kitchen, and Mr Weasley, Charlie, Bill and Fleur sat round the table. Without George and Ginny there, it seemed smaller than ever.
It took Harry a while to realise he was still wearing his invisibility cloak.
"Oh! Sorry!" He announced, making everyone's head snap round to the sound of the voice, apparently coming from nowhere. Harry hung the cloak on the hook. "It's me."
"D-did anyone else know he could do that?" Stammered Ron, trying to look surprised, "Seriously, Harry, how'd you learn to turn invisible?"
Everyone turned to looked at Ron with exasperated expressions.
"I think everyone knows Harry has an invisibility cloak now, Ron."
"Oh," he mouthed dumbly, "but it least I realised they weren't suppose to! That was quick thinking, right?" He looked at Hermione, clearly searching for praise or at least an agreement.
Hermione sighed fondly and ruffled his hair. "Oh, Ronald." She said it with such perfection everyone knew she'd be saying it for many more years to come, but tt was a little comfort to the grieving family at that time.
"Harry, dear!" Mrs Weasley enveloped him in a tight, rib-braking hug. There was such warmth and affection in it that Harry couldn't quite fathom it at the time, and was even more confused when Arthur lifted himself off his chair and wrapped his arms around him like a long-lost son.
"Harry," he said grimly, "Are you alright, son? We didn't see you after the battle. Knew you were OK of course, but..."
"Fine thank you, Mr Weasley. I just needed to get out."
"Pleasant journey? How did you get here?"
"Broom."
"Ah, of course."
"Cup of tea, Harry dear?" Asked Mrs Weasley.
"Er, yes please."
The atmosphere was so tense that Harry was afraid to breathe in the wrong way.
Mr Weasley offered him his seat, but Harry declined it. He shook the hands of the remaining Weasley brothers who offered it, and accepted Hermione's hug when she shifted off Ron's lap to give him one.
"Where's Ginny?" he asked Ron.
"Still in her room, getting ready." He paused. "Same as George."
"Did you get my owl?"
Ron nodded, hiding a grin. "Both of them. Sooty or whatever his name is upstairs with Pig. In my room." He added.
Harry, pretending he wanted to see his owl, excused himself from the table and tip-toed upstairs. On his way, he passed Fred and George's room, and heard George inside, sobbing quietly. Harry twinged guiltily, somehow feeling this was all his fault. He had never heard either twin do anything but laugh. His heart poured out for friend, it was one thing to lose a friend or son, but a twin brother- it must have been like losing half of himself.
He reached Ginny's room quite quickly and knocked on the door. A small voice answered him.
"Yes?"
Harry didn't announce himself, he simply walked in. Ginny stood at the end of the room in black robes, looking out of the window.
"It should be raining." She commented. She wasn't crying, but there was deep sadness etched in her voice. The high summer sun beat down on her from the glass pane, highlighting her long red hair.
"Ginny-" he started.
She spun round. "H-harry!" She gasped, and suddenly Harry found himself with his arms wrapped around her. He wasn't sure if he had run to her, or she to him, but it didn't really matter. It was the first time he had held her properly since his birthday, nearly a full year ago.
"I'm glad you're here." She whispered.
And he answered truthfully, "So am I."
He wasn't sure exactly how long he stood there, holding her, but eventually they heard George's door click open and him hurrying downstairs.
"We should probably go down now." Harry said.
Ginny nodded. "I know."
But they stood there a little longer before braving the others.
The funeral was a million times worse than Dumbledore's, everyone was crying, not for an old man who'd lived a full life, but for a young man who'd had his life ripped untimely from him. Everybody here knew friend personally, as a friend, brother, son or relative. Harry spotted Lee Jordon to the side of him with some other boys from Hogwarts, tears rolling steadily down his cheeks. The family, including himself and Hermione, stood at the front under the harsh glare of the sun, watching Fred Weasley's body being lowered into the ground. Harry held back tears himself, gulping and squeezing Ginny's arm more tightly than was comfortable.
Mrs Weasley was sobbing uncontrollably. "My son, my son!" She wailed. "Eight months, two weeks and three days I carried him! And then when it was finally time for him to come out, he wouldn't come, he didn't want to…"
"No, Mum," said George by her side, tears still streaking down his face, "That was me. Fred came first, remember?"
"No, no he didn't! You think I don't know my own son? Fred… FRED!"
And George, bitterly sad and hurting, wrapped his arms around his mother and cried together, their sobs shaking out of rhythm.
Harry held his arm around Ginny the whole time, and Hermione seemed to be supporting Ron, her arm around his middle. He wanted to get out of here, to get away, but at the same time, he wanted Fred to shoot out of his coffin and start laughing that he was only pretending, he wanted his people –who he realised now he'd always thought of as family- to start laughing again. It just didn't seem right or fair that they couldn't, just like even the weather seemed to be mocking them, showing absolutely no respect for the lost brother. Harry couldn't even laugh at the message, chosen by George, written on his friend's tombstone.
"I did die laughing, right?"
Harry remained in a trance through the service, thinking of the first time he met Fred and George, of them helping him with training, playing their first game together, of his receiving of the Marauder's Map. He thought of Fred's crazy ideas, his dreams- now gone and dead, along with George's, buried in a coffin deep beneath the Earth. Suddenly, for a long, drawn-out moment, all the prices seemed too great.
Harry stayed for dinner with the Weasley's, depressing as it was, wanting to break the fragile atmosphere but at the same time not daring too. It was so easier at Grimmauld place, fighting to turn it into something nice and usable, to forget the grief and deaths. His friends' solemn faces were empty, nothing like their usual cheerful selves; not that he could blame them at all. Throughout the whole day, Harry felt his own face drooping with weariness and sorrow. He tried to remind himself things wouldn't be this way forever, but suddenly the promise of a brighter future looked a lot further away.
The meal ended with everyone slowly sliding off in different directions. Bill and Fleur were already on their way home, Hermione was expected back at her parents before nightfall. Harry stayed, emptying the table, while the other Weasley children slipped away to bed.
"Er, Mum, Dad, a minute please." Bill stepped into the kitchen with is arm around Fleur and a slight smile nested in his drooping cheeks. "Fleur and I-"
"We 'ave some-sing to tell you." Fleur smile was radiant.
"It may not be the time, but Fleur and I-"
"We are 'aving a baby!"
Mrs Weasley's face lift and fashioned into the first smile of the day as she embraced her daughter-in-law. "Oh, how lovely!" She cried. "Oh, what great news! When's it due?"
"Decembre- I am three months along, as they say."
Mrs Weasley turned to hug Bill. "I'll be a grandma!" She smiled tiredly, "And I'm hardly that old! Well, I'm not complaining… I better get knitting!"
Bill and Fleur took this as a cue to leave. Harry suspected, that had it been any other day, she would have sat them down and talked nineteen-to-the-dozen. But not today.
"That's excellent news, Mrs Weasley."
"Oh, Harry!" She spun around. "Didn't realise you were still here, dear. Are you stopping the night?"
"No thanks, Mrs Weasley, I should be off."
"Oh, alright then dear," she shouldn't disappointed. "And Molly."
"I'm sorry?"
"Arthur and I- we think it's silly you calling us Mrs and Mr all the time, when you practically live here during the holidays, when you're practically… well, you know..." She faltered slightly. "Family." And she wrapped her arms around Harry again. "Say goodbye to the others before you leave, please dear?"
Harry nodded, blushing slightly at Mrs Weasley's confession, and hurried up the stairs.
"I'm going now," He poked his head into Ron's room, where he sat on his bed with Hermione in his arms. Harry wanted to make a comment to do with a permanent sticky charm, but decided against it, giving the things he wanted to do to Ron's sister. "I'll see you guys- er, later."
Ron nodded as Harry left.
"Hey Harry!" He called suddenly.
Harry's face reappeared. "Yeah?"
"The exits thataway-" Ron grinned, pointing down the stairs.
"I know." Harry tried not to smirk back as he hurried in the other direction, towards Ginny's room.
This time, he didn't bother knocking, as though the sound of his knuckles on the door would break the silence into sharp, glassy pieces. "Ginny?" He called.
She was sitting on her bed, book in hands, still staring out of the window. In all the time Harry had known her, he had never seen her so upset, and never wanted to again. Each solution he had to her sorrow, however, he told himself she wouldn't appreciate in the long run.
She turned her head towards him. "You're leaving?" She asked.
He nodded. "I think I should."
Slowly, Ginny etched herself off her bed and slowly came towards him. There was a slight twitch in her eyes and mouth, as though she wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the right words or expression. She put her arms around his back and pulled herself into his arms, resting her head against her chest.
"I… I wish you wouldn't." She breathed. "I wish people wouldn't go away."
Harry squeezed her tightly. "Ginny, Ginny I promise you, it's not and never will be that kind of away. I'm coming back soon, VERY SOON. I swear."
Ginny didn't cry like other girls would, she simply questioned blankly, "Really?"
"Yeah, really. It's just… it's not the right time. There's so much I want to say to you, to show you, but if I did it now, it wouldn't mean anything. It just… it wouldn't be right, OK?"
Ginny nodded, but paid no attention. Easing herself back, she looked Harry briefly in the face before leaping up and kissing, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing him into the wall. Her kisses were fierce and strong, and although Harry responded at first, it was with wide and open eyes.
"Ginny… Ginny…!" Harry spat a few words between gulps of air.
"Hmm?"
"This isn't…"
"Shut up, Harry." Her fingers worked her way into his hair.
Suddenly, Harry stopped, clasping her arms firmly in his hands. "No," he swallowed, "It's not right, not now."
"Then when!" Ginny screamed fiercely in a low whisper, "When another dark lord is gone? When it's safer? WHEN EVERYONE IN THE WORLD HAS STOPPED DYING?" She was looking at Harry with a look he'd never seen before, angry, upset, and furious. Harry didn't know what to do. He remembered when Sirius had died, and Dumbledore, and how dark the world seem then and how little anything anyone said made any difference, and that there was no way to tell her that things, somehow, would get better eventually.
Ginny turned her back on him, suddenly finding something very interesting about her sleeves.
"Ginny…" Started Harry. "Look, you've lost a brother and there's nothing I know about that, and you're not as used to death as I am… and I hope to God you never have to be, not now. But I've lost people too, people I've loved, as has everyone else- and maybe it won't get better. Maybe that pain will never ease. But some how, some way, we're going to have to get through this… because we really don't have another option."
He heard Ginny sniff ever so lightly and witnessed a hand moving to her face. Swiftly, she turned around and ran back into his arms. A short smile spread across her face.
"You really have a word with words lately, Mr Potter." She grinned. "You ought to be a politician."
Harry shivered. "A thought scarier than Voldemort."
And she giggled. It was small, it was slight, but it was there, and they both knew that someday, perhaps sooner than they knew, they'd all be laughing properly again.
.o0o.
A/N: OK, I sniffed at this, phyiscally nearly cried. Definately less light-hearted yeah? I feel so sorry for Fred... (sniffs again) Anyways, 8 more reviews please, I'll try and update tomorrow! And questions, queries, comments, compliments, ideas, (no complaints, please) please post as a review. Lol, you can complain if you want... but then I'll be sad!
Btw, anyone know where Crookshanks has been hanging this passed year? I miss him. And what happened to Madam Maxime? I may be making Hagrid a very happy half-giant.