The Prompt: An anniversary of Sirius' death. Further Conditions: Any anniversary, any character except Harry. Word Count: Between 100-500 words. Rating: G-R, please no NC-17 drabbles
I won second place! (This was for the interim competition for genhp_ldws livejournal community)
Title: Wanted for Murder By Suffocation
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
A/N: As misleading as the title is, this drabble is not about Peter Pettigrew.
Hissing Silencio, Mrs. Weasley shut herself in her room and let her tears fall. She didn't want to disturb Harry in his mourning, or worry Arthur, the dear. Oh, if only I wasn't so hard on him, she moaned internally. He's so sweet, why do I always have to be the bossy uptight one, the one that's right, but not heeded until it's far too late…
Ginny, Ron, Harry- all there, all with only five (four, for Ginny!) years of muddled Defensive magic against skilled, conscienceless Dark Wizards?
It took Sirius to die for them to realize how abysmally-!
Hadn't she told them to stay in school, to stay safe, to respect their lives? During perceived danger, the last thing they'd remember is their mother, brave, rash souls they all were. She was a Gryffindor, too; she knew how it was. Yet, first and foremost, she'd always be a mother…
Maybe she ought to stop mothering altogether! Warning Sirius, insisting he stay in Grimmauld Place, curb himself, even grow up, had done nothing but make him sour in his Azkaban-free days. He still encouraged the children to fan their flaming spirits, tried to resurrect the glory days, refused to listen- and then, then look what happened…
It's all no use, she thought, blowing her nose quietly. If I just stopped at cooking their food and making their beds, they'd all like me better for it.
"Mrs. Weasley?" called an unfamiliar, unfocused voice. Molly rapidly unsheathed her handkerchief and attempted to mop up the evidence. "You oughtn't mourn alone. Father tried that for awhile- it wasn't good for him at all."
"Mourn? I know I'm a horrible, selfish person, but honestly… I'm not really mourning Sirius," she confessed to this strange person, angel-like with her otherworldly apparel and haloed in dirty blonde hair. "I'm just mourning… something else lost with him."
"Well, if people truly mourned the person, no one would fuss like this. People in death are happier than we in mourning," said the girl simply, squatting beside Molly and offering her own handkerchief. "Here, this one's imbrued with Nargle-disinfectant. Nargles muddle the mind, see," the girl added at Molly's confused hesitation, "which is simply no good when you're already upset."
"Thank you," the Weasley matriarch replied automatically, indeed feeling marginally better as she accepted the proffered gift.
"Harry Potter lost a connection to his parents, his parents all over again really, and three years after it he can properly mourn without the worries of war. What do you ail from?"
"I just- I realized now, should've years ago- that- nobody wants mothers anymore. Everyone's all grown, and self-willed, and I don't have any place in the world."
"My name is Luna Lovegood, and I want a mum," Luna stated, without any tone variation. "I've wanted one ever since I was twelve."
"You do?" Molly sniffled, suddenly ashamed at falling to pieces before Ginny's more pitiable peer.
"Everyone does," Luna replied, suddenly firm. "Now go downstairs. Harry needs his, too."