Author's Note: I wrote this last summer, forgot about it, and found it again a few days ago while organizing computer files. Here you go.
Disclaimer: I'm only temporarily borrowing JK Rowling's world and will hand it back over in one piece shortly.
Fred's funeral was intended to be a small, private affair.
"Just the immediate family, friends, and members of the Order," Mrs. Weasley had said stiffly.
'So much for that,' Ginny thought as she surveyed the steady flow of people gathering in their backyard from her bedroom window. Extended members of the Weasley clan, a multitude of Hogwarts students both past and present, and many Hogwarts staff members had shown up at Fred's funeral uninvited, but they had not been turned away. Even a few regular customers of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had come to pay their respects. But for such a diverse and large crowd, there was an odd, oppressive quiet. People spoke in hushed murmurs, their heads bowed together, and anyone who dared speak above a whisper was quickly quieted by disapproving glares. She knew this was what a funeral was supposed to be like, but somehow the lack of smiles, let alone laughter, made it seem as though they had all come to pay their respects to some stranger, certainly not her brother and prankster extraordinaire, Fred Weasley.
She spotted Harry down below with Ron and Hermione. Not wanting him to look up and spot her, she ducked away from the window. Ginny couldn't go down there and be smothered by all the well-intentioned sympathy glances and sentiments just yet.
She crossed her room, stepping over and around all the piles of junk on the floor, and sat down at her desk, which was just as messy as the rest of the room. She momentarily had a staring match with her reflection in the desk mirror (her reflection lost), before opening drawers and digging through the layers of old papers and odds and ends under the pretense of organizing her desk.
As Ginny worked her way through each layer of sediment, she kept unearthing ancient and forgotten fossils from her childhood and early Hogwarts years. There was a broken toy wand, her OWL results (mostly O's and E's), a dud stink pellet, an early draft of her Valentine's card to Harry from way back when she was a first year... After a well-placed 'incendio', the incriminating evidence of what Ginny often considered as temporary insanity was incinerated. She continued on with her excavation of her top desk drawer, finding old quills, empty ink bottles, and even a few ton tongue taffies.
A timid knock came from behind her door. Only two Weasleys ever knocked on her bedroom door. She had just seen her father downstairs, head bent in a quiet conversation with Bill, so that left only one other possibility. "It's open, Percy," Ginny called, not getting up from her messy desk. She didn't blame Percy for wanting to resurface from the funeral, as she was trying to avoid it all together.
The third oldest Weasley boy opened the door, but remained in the doorway. Percy had temporarily moved back to the Burrow, partly to be with the family while they grieved and partly to make up for his previous estrangement from the Weasleys. The Weasley family had regained a member, but lost another at the battle at Hogwarts. Percy's return to the family fold was tinged with the grief of losing Fred and he had responded by staying out of everyone's way, attempting to be as invisible as possible.
"Mum sent me up to get you and George," Percy said, focusing more on his shoes than Ginny. For her part, Ginny didn't look his way either. She had never been close with Percy and although she had forgiven him for estranging himself from the family, their relationship was still a distant one.
"She's been trying to get George out of his room for the past week. I don't think you'll have any better luck," Ginny said, smoothing out the wrinkles in her black dress. She stopped and looked up at Percy, his normally squared shoulders resignedly slumped. "I can talk to him for you."
Percy looked up, his eyes meeting Ginny's. "If you're sure that would be-"
"I'm sure," Ginny said, cutting him off. A heavy silence strained the air between them for a few, drawn out moments. It was Percy who finally made it evaporate.
"It's all right. I shouldn't have expected to be welcomed back with open arms, especially after all that I... Well, at any rate, thank you for volunteering to talk to George. Maybe you'll be able to make him see some sense." Percy left, shutting the door gently behind him. Ginny waited until she could no longer hear his brisk footsteps moving down the stairs at his usual march tempo.
She plucked at a bent quill that was missing a nib. Percy was trying to smoothly re-enter the Weasley family, quietly and without fuss, but Ginny was having difficulty letting him. It was obvious he regretted the way he had behaved, but Ginny was not quick to forgive. She tossed the quill back into her desk drawer and rose from her chair.
She left her room and walked down the hall to George's. Ginny tapped the door, but heard no signs of life from inside the room. During the past few days, George had taken to being as quiet as possible whenever anyone knocked, hoping they would leave under the pretense that he wasn't there. Of course, Ginny knew better than to fall for that. Whenever George came to the Burrow he would spend as little time with other people as possible, preferring the solitude of his now mostly empty room.
Ginny opened the door and instinctually tensed for the rotten egg smell that would try to knock her off her feet. None came, however, as Fred and George had moved out of the Burrow the year previous and they no longer used the bedroom to attempt to create long-lasting dung bombs.
George sat on the saggy bed that had once been his, his back facing the door. Fred's bed was gone, making the room seem a lot more capacious and empty. There were a few cardboard boxes all labeled 'Private Property. Do not touch!' littered around the room like landmines, but otherwise, all that was in the room was the bed.
He didn't turn around or make any motion at all that he was aware Ginny had entered the room. "...George?" she called, surprised that her tone was so timid. In the past couple weeks, Ginny had kept her distance from George. His once brilliant and energetic eyes had become dull stones and this transformation scared her. Ginny called George's name again, but still he did not turn around.
She waited a few moments and then went on. "George, Mum wanted me to fetch you and bring you downstairs. The funeral's going to start soon."
Still no response.
"...I'll tell Mum you're not feeling well," Ginny said. She turned to leave the depressing room, when she heard George murmur something incoherent. "What was that?"
He cleared his throat and, still not turning to face her, said, "It's not him down there."
Ginny had no idea what to say to that statement. "Oh," she responded stupidly.
"It's not Fred," George repeated to the scuffed, hard wood floor.
She slowly made her way over to George and sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. He said nothing and resolutely did not lift his head to look at her. Ginny wrapped her arms around her brother's frame. He tensed at first, but then leaned into her embrace.
"Teddy puked all over Ron's good shirt this morning," Ginny volunteered. She felt rather than heard George snicker into her clavicle. Encouraged, Ginny went on, "He was absolutely covered. You should have seen his face. He took a shower, but I'm pretty sure he still smells like regurgitated baby bile." More laughter.
George lifted his head up. "Fred would have loved that."
She smiled. "Yeah, he would have." They detached from one another and Ginny playfully gave George a shove. "Come on. Just make a quick appearance to make Mum happy."
George looked as though he were waiting for something, but after a few seconds he said, "All right." Ginny had begun to notice that it often took George a couple moments to respond or answer other people. It had usually been his more outgoing twin, Fred, who would answer for the both of them.
Ginny stood up and walked towards the door, but she was only half way there when she stumbled over one of the many cardboard boxes on the floor. George caught her by the elbow before she hit the floor. "Thanks." She glanced down at the box that was now on its side, its contents partially spilled.
George bent down and shoved the firecrackers back into their box. "We still have a surplus left over from before we had to close the shop. They just flew off the shelves. We couldn't make them fast enough."
"Well, after Umbridge, Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs became pretty infamous," Ginny said, noticing that George was still using the pronoun 'we'. He'd always been lumped together with Fred and he now was lost without his other half.
"Yeah..." George replied, delayed as usual. He stared off into space with a slight smile, no doubt reliving how he and Fred made Umbridge's time at Hogwarts a living hell.
Ginny and George went downstairs and out into the fray that was Fred's funeral. No one seemed to want to let their eyes linger on George for too long. Ginny supposed that it was like seeing a ghost for many; Fred reanimated.
Ginny made her way through the large groups of mourners, leading George around the somber scene. She came across Charlie, who took George off her hands. "Come on, mate. Fleur made some dessert complete with a complicated French name. Bill wants everyone to try it and tell her how great it is." Ginny watched Charlie lead George away.
Ginny wandered around, looking for Harry, but she didn't get very far when she bumped into Percy again. "Thanks for convincing George to come out in the daylight," Percy said.
Ginny shrugged. "No problem. Have you seen Harry?"
"Last time I saw him he was with Ron and Hermione."
This wasn't helpful in the least. "Yes, but where we they?"
"In the front yard."
Ginny turned to leave, but stopped in her tracks when she heard Percy comment, "Fred wouldn't have wanted to go out this way, with everyone miserable. It's the very opposite of what he lived for."
Two gears in Ginny's head suddenly meshed perfectly. It was suicidal, but... "Let's fix it, then."
"Ginny, what-?"
But Ginny was already walking back to the house. She didn't walk too fast, hoping that Percy would catch up with her. The old Percy would have run to their mother to report that she was up to something, but he had supposedly changed. Ginny smiled when she heard Percy's brisk footsteps falling in step with her own. He asked no questions until they reached Fred and George's old room.
"Ginny, I really don't see how..."
Ginny grinned and help up a firecracker from the box she had previously tripped over.
"Are you insane?" Percy admonished, but a smile was slowly growing on his face.
"Come on, Percy. Live a little. It's what Fred would have wanted," she added with a smirk.
Percy only argued half-heartedly against the idea, merely out of habit than anything. He had been convinced the moment his eyes had alighted on the firecracker. "All right. Let's send him off proper."
Once their plan for their suicide mission (for Mrs. Weasley would surely kill them before the day was out) was completed, Percy scooped up the box of firecrackers. He had given himself the task of strategically placing the firecrackers without being caught.
"Things are about to get far more interesting," Percy joked and headed down the stairs. Ginny stood silent in the mostly empty bedroom and then suddenly jumped into action. She took the descending flight of stairs two at a time and caught Percy in the kitchen before he headed outside where the funeral was going on.
"Percy, wait!" He turned, surprised. Ginny hesitated then said quickly, "I know I've been kind of giving you a hard-time lately and I'm sorry. You're not half-bad."
Percy gave her a half-smile. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."
Ginny settled herself in between George and Harry, whom she had finally found. He said nothing to her about Fred. Words were not necessary as they both suffered the same aching of loss and knew the other felt the same.
Harry slipped his hand into hers and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. She squeezed his hand back.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, the newly appointed minister of magic, came to the front and stood in front of Fred's polished mahogany coffin. From this position he launched into a speech about Fred and his bravery and dedication to fighting Voldemort.
In her peripheral vision she could see Percy trying to catch her eye, but for the moment, she ignored him. Was it the right thing to disrupt her brother's wedding? Would it be considered disrespectful to his memory?
She glanced at George, who looked just as wretched as ever, and then at the other people who had come to Fred's funeral. All wore somber and miserable expressions. Their unhappiness convinced Ginny she was doing the right thing. Fred lived to brighten up other people's lives. The reason he breathed was to bring joy to others. It wasn't right that his funeral, which was supposed to be a tribute to his memory, was complete misery.
Ginny looked over at Percy and gave him a slight nod. It was now or never.
She watched him discretely pull out his wand while she did the same. Only Harry noticed what she was doing. "Ginny," he whispered, Kingsley's deep voice in the background. "What are you-?"
"Incendio!"
The initial explosion was tremendous. Kingsley ducked for cover from the screaming fireworks that shot themselves up into the sky forming colourful spectacles and dirty words among other things.
There was a stunned silence filled only with the crackling and screeching of the firecrackers going off. It started with George, whose silent shakes transformed into peels of laughter. It was infectious and soon everyone was laughing and complimenting on how marvelous the fireworks were. Even Mrs. Weasley was shaking her head in amusement. Once it was clear the fireworks would not be stopping anytime soon, everyone rushed into the Burrow so as to not be the victim of a stray firecracker. People gathered around the windows to watch the dazzling fireworks.
Ginny could hear some re-telling the now Hogwarts legend of Fred and George bombarding Umbridge with their fireworks on their way out of Hogwarts. And this only lead to more stories of Fred and George's antics. Even George had lit up and was spiritedly re-telling a few himself.
Ginny and Percy shared a smile. Yes, this was the sort of funeral that would have made Fred proud.
Author's Note: Dislike it? Hate it? Think it should be dragged behind the tool shed and put out of its misery? Tell me in a review!