CHAPTER 9 : CHRISTMAS DRINKS
Draco Malfoy
Lucius Malfoy
Pansy Parkinson - dead
Vincent Crabbe
Gregory Goyle - dead
Millicent Bulstrode - dead
Alecto Carrow (Azkaban)
Amycus Carrow (Azkaban)
Augustus Rookwood – for Fred (Azkaban)
Antonin Dolohov – for Remus
Fenrir Greyback – For Bill
Thorfinn Rowle (Azkaban)
Peter Pettigrew - dead
Bellatrix Lestrange - dead
Looking at the names on the wall, waved his hand neglectly. The letters rearranged themselves, dragging the crossed names back to the bottom of the wall. He looked again and thought " Well, this does looks like the lair of a true maniac...". That wasn't smart, he knew that. If anyone stumbled across this, for whatever reason, it would give away everything that he had done, and everything that was left to do. Another wave of his wand, and those names disappeared, so nobody would see the connection between him and the murders. He felt the bitter sting of regret, and then the way too familiar, but also forgotten, bite of fear.
He didn't want to admit it, but he could not hide from his own thoughts. The knife across Pansy's mouth, her pain, the blood, there was no need for all that, and he knew it. No matter how hard he wanted to deny it, he knew that the hate and anger he felt were demanding these actions, like a king demands his subjects. And he knew that he gave up to them without a fight, without even a second thought. And that scared the hell of him. He was used to anger, he could barely remember a moment without anger in his heart for this whole past year he spent running from, then to, Voldemort. But he was not used to losing the control, to surrender the keys and, no matter how hard he swore that would never happen, he was scared to death at the idea of becoming like him. Of becoming HIM.
But it would never happen, wouldn't it? Gryffindor's sword would never allow a dark wizard to wield it. Albus Dumbledore would have never make the same mistake twice, he trusted him. He must have known, he knew everything in the end! He kept his secret, chose what to reveal or not, but he always knew. So he would have approved this quest, Harry was so sure. The method, maybe not, but that was just a detail. He knew that his path was righteous, no matter how dark.
Then why hide it from his friends ? Why keep it secret ? For their own protection, he kept saying to himself.
Because they would never understand, he knew.
Standing on the Burrows doorstep, Harry hesitated a second. The place had been decorated with so many lights, blinking and spreading the Christmas spirit all the way to the bloody Arctic pole. Harry knew that Molly Weasley was probably trying to compensate the heavy and still mourning mood she was expecting for the holidays. He breathed in once, twice. Three times. On the fourth, he armed himself with bravery and knocked.
"George, my dear, go and see who's knocking", he heard Molly's voice scream yell inside. The sounds of the steps in the stairs. Slow. Hesitant. Finally, George Weasley opened the door.
"Harry...?" He looked surprised. " Why didn't you Floo in?"
" Hello George. I prefer to fly, these days. The broom feels right."
"Georgie ? Who's th..."
The face of Molly appeared at the door, and brightened when she saw the visitor.
" Harry ! What are you.. Come in! George ! Don't let him freeze outside! Let him in, by Merlin's beard!"
"It's okay, Molly, it's not that cold, and I have a good cloak." But nonetheless, he stepped in, and hugged his adoptive mother, before turning to his brother in arms. George looked tired, exhausted even, and distant. As Harry opened his arms to hug in as well, he barely responded, his eyes drawned to the floor, like gravity prevented him from looking up ever again.
With a sad smile, Harry did not insist, and led him back into the living room with his hand on his shoulder. Arthur was there, talking with Bill over a glass of Firewhisky. They both got up simultaneoulsy, with the same smile on their faces, when Harry entered the room. The hugs were honest, real, full of this friendly love that Harry liked so much about them. He did saw, however, the way they pretend not to notice George's apathy at his side. Arthur took his cloak while Bill started with the classic smalltalk. What has he been up to ? Did he have a job already ? No? A career idea at least ? Why not pro Quidditch? Did he not miss Ron and Hermione too much ?
While Harry answered all his question with either an honest answer or an elusive lie, he focused on George, sat on the sofa, looking at the floor like it was a gateway to the next world. Until he heard footsteps in the stairs, and looked up. Fleur Delacour, in an elegant blue and silver dress, smiled at him.
"Bonjour Harry!" she said with her brightest smile, but he was not looking at her and she knew it. Just two steps behind, Ginny appeared and he forgot everything else. He even stopped listening, no, hearing what Bill was saying. She was wearing a green and silver dress, which was weird enough for a Gryffindor. It covered her body from under her knees up to her neck and her shoulders, but it was tight enough to let guess her curves. It also looked like the fabric had different kind of layers, playing with the shades of green to better mesmerize anyone who would look upon it.
" It looks like you like Fleur's early Christmas present" she said as a greeting, barely masking her laugh. At that moment, Harry realize that he was starring, and probably needed to close his mouth before he started drooling, as he knew he was already past the point of ridiculous. Her hair had been braided, probably by Fleur, into two little braids on the sides, joined in the back into a bigger one. It looked like a crown on her head. Her make-up looked a bit like the one she had when he saw her at Hogsmeade, but almost professionaly done. Fleur was really a master of her craft.
"Harry ?" she asked. He snapped back to reality. It was way to easy to get lost into her.
"Hi Ginny! It's good to see you. I did not think you would be there yet. Hello Fleur. It's been way too long."
" What to do you mean, already? It's Christmas Eve, 7pm, and you're the one that's late!"
But despite her accusation, she was smiling and approached to kiss him. It was quick, it was light and soft, but it was the first time she did it in front of her family, and it ignited his heart. Fleur's hug barely calmed him down. Only when she left his side to join her mother in the kitchen he felt like he was breathing oxygen again instead of her sweet fire.
He sat down, next to George, and looked at the ceiling. He felt the warmth of the fire, the conforting sound of the ladies talking in the kitchen, the exciting smell of the food and the whisky in the glasses. He heard the echoes of the voices of his missing friends, and the terrifying icy cold of Fred's absence. The good and the bad, the sweet and the sour, the dark and the light, the ying and the yang, all mixed up in the air and in the bottom of his glass.
An hour later, as the diner was almost ready, the drinks almost empty, as Teddy Lupin freshly brought by his grandmother was laughing on Fleur's knees and Harry was playing with Ginny's hand, a giant Great Duke arrived and screetched at the window. Jumping from his seat, Arthur opened and retrieve the letter to his name. With a big smile, and almost happy tears in his eyes, he started to read.
Dad, Mom,
I hope you will receive this in time for Christmas. The International Express Owl Service is incredibly expensive here in Australia, but the Ministry of Magic was kind enough to do us a favor. I guess our names carry weight here too, but let's call it a Christmas miracle, shall we?
You know I usually don't write much, but to be honest, I miss you guys. I'm guessing that, if you got this letter in time, Ginny will be home as well. Maybe Bill too. And Harry! I miss you all, and it writing makes me feel like I'm with you 788 at least for a bit.
You would not believe how fucking hot it is here for Christmas. We're at 30 degrees, so you better believe that we won't be seing any snow on our side. Maybe you guys will get lucky.
Speaking of luck, we got some good news. I don't know how much Hermione told to everyone in her last letters, but we made some huge progress. Hermione finally managed to talk to her parents, and even though it took a few spells, she managed to get them to the australian Healers. They've been working on their case for a month now, and it's slowly paying off. Their memories are coming back, slowly but surely. It might take another month, but we'll get them back.
It's my second Christmas without you. Never thought that would happen, and I would very much like it if there's never a third time. But despite it all, I'm fine, I'm with Hermione, and I know you're all safe back home. It's not that bad of a Christmas.
I love you all.
Ron
PS : Hermione says "hi". Well, she says a lot more than that, but I would need a second letter.
Everybody laughed at the end of the post-scriptum, Molly through her tears. Well, almost everyone, but Harry saw that George could not prevent a little smile from stretching his lips.
"So, Harry, tell me" started Arthur, " I know you've come by the Ministry a lot these past weeks. I would lie if I said that I was not a tiny bit vexed that you didn't come by my office more often, but I have heard that you were asking a lot of questions about the Aurors and their work. Are you considering applying to Mr Sorenson's office ? I could introduce you, you know? Not that you need any good words, but he would be able to ask your questions..."
Harry finished his bowl of soup before answering. He knew the turkey was coming next, and it smelled so strong that he could almost taste it. He had to swallow twice before answering.
"I don't know, Arthur. I mean, sure, I wanted to, before... all that. But now..."
He put down his spoon, and felt the hand of Ginny on his thigh. Nothing sexy, just her sign of support, and he loved it, but Arthur eyes locked onto him brought him back to the talk.
"Now, I don't know. It all seems so slow. So many rules, so many procedures, forms to fill. While they keep scratching paper to fill their reports, Greyback and Dolohov are still out there."
"Harry..."
"No, i get it, Arthur. I really do, I understand. I know why it's necessary, why it has to work this way... I just don't know if I can follow orders like that anymore."
" I understand, son. But you should really talk to Sorenson. I know that he had the idea of creating a special task force, with more freedom, a new kind of Auror. I don't really know more than that, but he could tell you what his vision is, and I'm sure he would be interested in your opinion"
"Then maybe I will! Thanks, Arthur. It's good to know."
And the Christmas talks resumed. The classic questions about how school was going, about whenever Bill and Fleur would give the Weasley's their first grandchild, about how Ron and Hermione might be doing, back to Harry's career, then to Ginny's options... The turkey came, then the dessert. It was a regular Christmas, filled with laughters, debates, jokes and conversation that should not be started, until politics and religions were replaced by sports as it is supposed to.
But it was not supposed to be regular. It was supposed to be painfull, full of memories, of cries. For George, laughing and talking Quidditch was an insult, a disgrace, a spit in his brother's face. Each seconds, his hands were tighter around his fork and knife. At each unembarrassed laugh of his mother, he clenched his teeth more. At every stupid fucking joke of his father, his knuckles got whiter.
He ended his fifth glass of whisky, knowing that neither his mother nor his father actually noticed. They were way too busy pretending he wasn't even here. He knew he should not get so angry, Fred would disaprove, he kept saying to himself over and over again. But he was not so sure... would he ? Would he not want his brother to miss him ? To stop taking all this bullshit, all these fakes smiles and forced laughs ? Fred was for real, his jokes and pranks were for real. The laughs and happiness he brought were for real, while none of this was.
It's when his father burst a loud laugh at some stupid blabbering from Teddy that he finally lost it all. In a single movement, he got up, flipping his chair over, and smashed both his fists on the table. His empty plate of chocolate pudding fell to the floor and shattered, water spilled out of several glasses. His foot trample onto the shards, but the crissing sound got covered by his raging yell.
"That's enough !"
Silence fell around him. His mother was opened-mouth, too shocked to react when she would usually scream louder than him to send his to his bedroom. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed Harry laid back, his drink in his hand, and what maybe looked like a narky smile on his face, but he was too loaded and too hot to be sure. But he didn't miss Ginny's hand in his.
"George..." started Arthur, the pain in his voice unhidden.
"Shut the fuck up, Dad ! You all shut the fuck !" He knew he was way past the line, but he could not stop. The gates now opened would not be closed so easily. "You all disgust me ! How can you all laugh so freely, like nothing happened ! How can you all pretend nothing happened ? Eat like Fred's not missing ! Like there's not a bloody empty chair next to me ? What kind of fucking parents are you ? It's like you don't even care that your son is dead !"
"George this is ENOUGH !" screamed the loud, low pitched voice of Bill. He was up too, despite his wife's hand trying to calm him down.
"No it is not, Bill ! It's not ! It will never be enough, not until you all stop acting like I didn't lose my fucking brother ! None of you even said his name tonight. None of you mentionned him ! "
Tears were running down his cheeks, but his voice was still strong and steady. His mother was sobbing, though, unable to answer, Ginny now a her side, patting her back. Arthur, back on his seat, was starring at his empty plate, hit in the face by the truth out his son's mouth. Only Bill was standing strong against his brother's storm.
"He's gone ! He's dead! But Merlin be my witness, I will not allow him to be forgotten ! I will not allow you to act like he did not even existed !"
By the time he finished his last sentence, Bill had grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall.
"How dare you say that we don't care about Fred ? How dare you put Mom through that ? Don't you think that we've been through enough ?"
George pushed him back, hard enough so he would hit the table. A glass fell, shattered next to the bowl. Arthur tried to got up to intervene, but his forces failed him. It was too much for him, the sadness, the pain and the alcohol. Bill straightened, ready to bring the fight back to his younger brother, when a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Harry?"
Without a word, Harry drew his wand from his pocket, slowly, but did not point it at George. He waved it, and letter after letter, the name of the fallen brother appeared in the air. Everyone was starring, he knew it, but at least George was stopped in his tracks. When the name was completed, black ink floating in the air, Harry throw it against the wall with a powerful move. In a flash, the name travel like a leaf in a hurricane and crashed against the bricks, with a loud bang. They felt the floor tremble, like an earthquake with Fred's name at its epicenter. It was now written in giant black letters on the red bricks, almost incrusted in the stones. Molly let out a sob that no one could really decypher. Harry turned back to the table, accioed the bottle of whisky from the living room, and poored himself yet another drink, and a second one that he handed to George.
"Your brother was a good man, George. And no offense, but he was funnier than you. He was a good friend, a real friend, and a great fighter. I loved him like I love you, and I will never, never forget him."
George had the glass in hand, but could barely hold it, not to mention drink from it. He was crying way too much. Harry finished, his glass raised in the air.
"To our brother. To Fred"
And he swallowed it all in one go.
"To my brother. I love you, Fred". That was Ginny, with her mother's drink in hand, and she drank it the same way Harry did. Molly did not fight, she even chuckled through her tears. Arthur took over.
" I miss you son. And I'm sorry. Here's to you, Fred!" His whisky disapeared.
If not for Bill to hold him, George would have fall to his knees, but he managed back to his chair. Tears would not stop falling, like they would not stop the days after the battle. It felt like losing him all over again, but instead of suffocating under the pain, those tears felt like a liberation, like the first bubble of fresh air he finally breathed after seven months. He could not drink this one, he had enough, but he raised it nonetheless.
"Farewell bro. Thank you."
Bill drank it for him.
A/N : No more Microsoft Word for me, so no more autocorrect... there might be even more mistakes than before, sorry bout that. Any i hope you enjoyed this chapter, I liked writing it... I'm hoping to give a bigger role to Ginny at some point, to George as well.. let's see how it turns out =)