Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
A/N: I really appreciate the reviews and alerts. Keep 'em coming. I know this a short one, but I needed another chapter before the eulogy, and I needed that to have its own chapter. It's coming up next.
It took over an hour for everyone to get to the Burrow, and Harry sat with Ginny while they waited and tried not to think about what they were waiting for. She held his hand tightly, and he let himself lapse into the comfortable role of caretaker. It was a lot easier to pretend she'd need help more than he would, but he knew enough about how hard this was going to be to dread it. He was forcibly reminded of how he'd felt at Dumbledore's funeral … and when he'd buried Dobby … and when he'd gone to see his parents … his pressure on her hand tightened. She smiled at him gratefully, and he smiled weakly back. He didn't want her to worry about him. She had enough to worry about now.
Once the rest of the family had arrived, they all walked slowly out to the garden behind the house. It had been decided, after much discussion, that they would hold the service behind their home and then move to the graveyard for the burial. All of the Weasleys agreed that Fred would have wanted the comfort of home, and none of them found it necessary to point out that they wanted the same.
Harry looked around at the chairs set up and was suddenly hit with a wave of grief as he recalled the last time he'd been with all of these people in this very place… at Bill and Fleur's wedding. His eyes stinging, he looked down very quickly at the ground as he realized that, in spite of the fact that his hair had been a Weasley red at that occasion, he'd never felt more like a member of the family than he did today.
He followed Ginny to the first row and sat beside her, comforted by having Hermione and Ron on his other side. As he glanced down the row, he saw that they were sitting in age order. Arthur and Molly sat in the first two seats, followed by Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, Hermione, himself and Ginny. He sighed, and Hermione turned slightly to look at him, concern in her deep brown eyes. He knew she was worried about him, and he knew why. She was the only one who'd been with him when he'd gone back to Godric's Hollow, and she alone knew how hard that had been. He slowly reached for her hand with his other one, hoping neither Ron nor Ginny would mind, but then he realized that almost everyone else was holding hands as well. Hermione squeezed his hand tightly, and he let out another deep breath. He was ready for this to start.
Or… he'd thought he was. As the same grey-haired wizard stood before them, he thought once again of Dumbledore's funeral, and he felt the lump in his throat swell. He bit down on his lip as his eyes filled with tears again. This time, he wasn't on the end, and there was no way to hide his tears… but then he remembered Godric's Hollow, and again, he thought… what was the use of pretending. As the wizard spoke of Fred's life and the noble way in which he died, the tears spilled down Harry's cheeks, and with each of his hands being held, there was no way to wipe them off. He let them fall, his breathing ragged, and he could feel Ginny heaving with silent sobs to his right as she leaned against him. Hermione clutched his hand tightly, her own eyes streaming. He was afraid to look down the line again, but he did catch sight of Ron out of the corner of his eye and was shocked to see his expression stony and his eyes dry. His own tears stopped as abruptly as though he'd turned off a faucet, and he felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Why wasn't Ron crying? Why could he… control himself? He swallowed hard. If Ron could do it… well, so could he.
He suddenly became aware of a quiet spreading over the garden, and he wrenched his attention back to the podium. His breath caught in his throat as he realized that George was now standing before them. His face was white, and Harry's mind flashed to the other celebrations in this garden: Fred and George entertaining Fleur's cousins at the wedding, his own birthday party when the twins had bewitched the 17 to hang above the family as they celebrated… the family. He shook his head again, determined to concentrate on George, determined to show the same strength as Ron.
