Chapter 6: Postmortem

This is a real challenge for me, writing the reactions of the Weasleys to the deaths of two family members. You see, Rowling only devotes one line to Percy's method of grief, in CoS when talking about Penelope Clearwater. There's about a page of Ron, and a paragraph of Ron, Fred and George. I found it rather interesting that we only see Percy grieving after Penelope is petrified, and not after Ginny is taken; rather an insensitive lout, isn't he? Basically, what I'm getting at here is not to be too hard on me, as there is very little source material. Everyone grieves in a slightly different way, and it is almost impossible to predict which person will be in shock and which will brood and which will try to kill things. Oh, and I'm sorry for any confusion, but in the last chapter when Ron said, "It was Fred," he meant that the one he had witnessed dying was Fred. I've changed it now, so that it's clearer.

They sat crowded around the small table at George's house in Hogsmeade, sipping their tea silently. Only Percy was absent, beside the two that had – well, that simply could not be there, under the circumstances. At other times there would have been much muttering on all of their parts concerning his absence, but now they took it in with the same shocked expressions of vacancy with which they attempted to cope with what had happened. They did not blame him as much as they would have, as Hermione, the least distraught of the group and thus the one given the task of informing what was left of the family, had not been able to reach him. Apparently he had been summoned off somewhere on business.

Mrs. Weasley was sobbing uncontrollably, her ragged breaths breaking what would otherwise be silence but for the ticking of the clock. Arthur and she had been together for nearly fifty years now, and the lack even of a body to bury (when they had tried to pick it up, it had crumbled away into dust) had broken her emotional self-control. Surprisingly, it was Hermione who was comforting the matriarch, not Ginny.

Bill was huddled up in a corner of his chair, or at least giving the impression of being in such a position. In such a small house, it was almost impossible to withdraw from the main body of people. He had his long legs drawn up, and his arms wrapped around them. Although the presence of eight bodies in the room made it very warm, he was shivering, and kept on looking around him like a hunted animal.

Charlie was at the table, resting most of the weight of his upper body on his elbows, with his head in his hands. No one could see his face, but the occasional drip of water showed that he was crying softly.

George was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. Like many twins, he and Fred had shared a special bond [A/N: Remember, I never ever ever advocate slash in my stories, unless it's characters teasing others, and then they're only joking] that extended beyond friendship and beyond the normal ties of family; they were almost like one person, or at least Rowling never made any distinction between them. To lose his brother was to lose a part of himself.

Ron was still in shock from witnessing what Harry could only assume was the bloody death of his older brother; his face was ashen grey and his hands shook. When the family had partially recovered, they had attempted to obtain the bodies of the dead. Arthur's fate was, as has been said, to crumble to dust, but they never found Fred, and Ron would say no more about it. He had an idea, though, of what had happened; the fire was particularly foul-smelling in the general direction that Ron had come from.

Ginny sat nearly erect, proud and stiff, her eyes boring into the fidgeting hands in her lap. She was recounting the oath she had so recently sworn, on her own flesh and blood no less. There was no turning back now; all that remained was to find out which death eaters had been personally responsible. Then she would track them, hunt them down, and kill them, leaving a drop of her own blood on each body as the oath required. No Weasley had sworn the flesh-and-blood oath in over 300 years, but when they did the fulfillment was terrible to behold. She smiled grimly.

Harry was dealing with the deaths quite well. He had been preparing for this moment since fourth year, after Cedric had died – death did not bother him any more. He sat quietly, apart from the group, waiting for them to finish. Hermione stood beside him, fidgiting nervously while the tears streamed down her face. Harry contemplated calming her, soothing her; then he dismissed these thoughts with a disgusted shake of his head. At a time like this, all he could think of was stealing Hermione back from Ron. How Slytherin.

They sat this way for hours, not speaking and hardly moving. It got later and later, and the grey day turned into a grey night. Finally Mrs. Weasley spoke. "Well, we're still alive." The unspoken part of this sentence manifested itself in a single tear that followed the well-worn trail down her cheek. George shuddered. "We still need to eat, to drink, to sleep. Come on, help me make dinner."

They did help, and it helped them too. The movement, the activity, the need for interaction – soon everyone except George was, although not cheerful, much less morbid than they had been. The meal was eaten, seats were taken, and the Weasleys were ready to discuss what was to be done.

There was no hope of reconstructing the Burrow: even the foundations had been removed and replaced with a gaping pit. Of the remaining Weasleys, two were abroad, one lived in Hogsmeade, and another lived in parts unknown. That left Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione. They could not possibly all stay in Hogsmeade; although Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was full of promise, at the current time there simply were not enough funds to keep everyone, nor was there enough room.

"All right, we know that George can only house two of us. So, Harry, Hermione and I will just -"

"Mum, why are you just assuming that we will stay here? Hadn't we better discuss it first?" Ginny was showing immense courage in interrupting her mother; normally it would have been a bad idea.

"Ginny, dear, you are the two youngest. You should have family, it will help..."

Ron coughed, but did not speak.

Hermione spoke up. "Mrs. Weasley," she said in her usual clear voice, "Perhaps we should decide this by who needs this most. Obviously Ginny," - here Ginny shot daggers at Hermione - "as the youngest, will need the most help in coping." Again, Ginny looked murderously at the older girl. It seemed that she had lost all of her childhood with the oath she had sworn, and that it was now the only thing she possessed. "But as for the question of whether Ron or you should be the other to stay... don't you see that if you are with us, it will be as though you are alone? You will have no one, really, to talk to. You will have no family. We cannot let you do this to yourself."

"But you can let Ron." Mrs. Weasley was beginning to bristle, her protective side on full red alert.

Harry was beginning to catch on. "No, Mrs. Weasley. At school, we are like family. We can help Ron, though we cannot help you. The net benefit is greater if the three of us are together; we can begin to heal."

Mrs. Weasley looked uncertain, but Bill cut in. "They're right, you know – like brothers and sister, I've seen them. We all have. Mum, Ginny needs you. You know she does, and more than Ron does. And the three of them need each other."

She sighed. "All right. But where are you going to stay?"

"Well, we could try an inn or someone else's house," suggested Hermione.

"Yeah, right. 'Oh, hello, could we stay at your place for the rest of the summer? Great! By the way, we happen to be on the run from Voldemort, can we still stay?'" Ginny's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"There must be someone willing to take us in," said Hermione in a state of mild panic.

Harry slowly smiled. "I think I might know just the place. They'd take in three underage wizards, I'm sure."

Charlie saw the look on Harry's face and stopped dead. "You're joking."

"No, I'm not."