A/N: Sorry about the, well, sudden chapter change. I just wasn't happy with everything, so I thought I'd just destroy it all and start again. Hope it still works out aha
And, obviously, I do not own Harry Potter.
Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen when Ginny and Hermione had made their way down the stairs. It looked like she was trying to fill a kettle with water for tea, but was having some trouble as she was shaking violently. Silent tears were making their way down her pleasantly plump cheeks; hair the same shade as her offspring was springing out of its fabric bonnet; water was sloped down her front as the kettle shook back and forth.
"Oh, Mum." Ginny said, taking the copper kettle from her mother and putting it on the table, her eyes welling with tears. "Ssh, don't cry." She then wrapped her arms around Mrs. Weasley, rocking back and forth very slowly on the spot.
Hermione felt rather awkward.
"Accio." She murmured, aiming her wand at the abandoned teapot as Mother and Daughter embraced tightly. Proceeding to make tea, she filled the kettle with water and tapped it once, saying "Boiltio" under her breath. Then making three mugs bob along on her side, she filled them each with the steaming water, and, after placing her hand in the terracotta jar labeled 'tea' she added fresh earl grey teabags to the floating tableware. She sent two over to the table, and kept one for herself, leaning against the counter and looking out at the humid morning, bright with the new sun.
Wooden chairs scraped upon the polished floor.
Hermione turned around and tried to look natural as she sat next to Ginny. She was sure she was blushing.
"Oh, girls." Mrs. Weasley shuttered, trying her best to sound like she had not been crying. "Oh, what I would have done- to- to have let him live instead. Gladly I would have gone." She shook again, causing Ginny to reach over and rub her back, cooing.
"What would we have done without you? You really don't mean that. You would leave all us, leave us all behind?"
"Bu-but his future was s-so bright." Mrs. Weasley mumbled, tears falling into the mug she had just grasped firmly, as if squeezing it would relieve her of her pain, the crashing waves of guilt making her quaver tremulously.
"Yes, but- bu-" Ginny had to compose herself. "But he went laughing, right? And he had fought for what was right." She paused as Mrs. Weasley conjured up a handkerchief to blow her nose loudly into.
Hermione played with her tea. It really was to hot to drink this muggy morning. The humidity plus the steam from the tea alone made her feel like she was in a sauna.
She heard a creak on the stairs. She glanced up, watching Mr. Weasley hobble over to his wife and lift her up; so much love in his swollen eyes Hermione had the sudden urge to launch herself into a fresh wave of tears.
"C'mon, Molly" he croaked, supporting her as they walked outside.
"'Morning." Hermione muttered to their backs.
Ginny had her face in her hands.
"Better get the dark robes out." Her stifled voice said, hollow and blank.
Hermione nodded, putting her undrunk tea back on the table, following Ginny to the Weasley's laundry.
It's really unfair it's such a beautiful day. It should at least be cloudy. Hermione tried to scratch the back of her sweating neck as subtly as possible.
The suns rays beat down on them, the opaque shades they wore attracting every heat wave that was being admitted in England.
Hermione now flattened the front of her deep plum robes, trying to listen to what her former Transfiguration professor was saying.
"…With poise, his every action witty and ingenious, with every step he took he spread joy and laughter…"
She felt Ginny convulse involuntarily next to her.
"Stood up to what he believed in, never faulting, never wavering, protecting the life- and family- he loved so very much until his last breath…"
Hermione looked to her right, where Ron stood. Tears were dripping down his face, which was stonily set on Minerva McGonagall.
She felt her hands brush away tears on her own face. How odd, she thought, starring down at them, watching them evaporate in front of her very eyes. I hadn't even noticed.
She leaned slightly to the left, catching the sight of the white marble intricately engraved casket over Bill Weasley's shoulder, which, she thought, her stomach lurching, contained a lifeless Fred.
Fred. Fred was the antagonizer. He always had something to say, didn't he? He was the creative twin, while George was the brains. Maybe.
Hermione felt a surge of guilt, namely because she couldn't tell the twins more apart. Also because she couldn't really pay attention at the funeral of what felt like a half brother.
She shook her head, sharpening her concentration on McGonagall.
"… now, as we say goodbye, we ask ourselves why- why was such an innocent, remarkable, intelligent and charming young man taken from our midst? We have no answer for that. This world is cruel in ways unimaginable, bottomless in brutality. We just must hope that we have the strength to accept what Fred has given us with the loss of his live, the gift of a new world, a chance at a safe and peaceful life…" She faltered, drying her eyes on a tissue in her hand. "And, because of this we must also say thank you, for giving us the immeasurable pleasure of knowing an extraordinary man in life, and, with his death, granting new life on the ones he so dearly loved."
Everyone clapped, Mrs. Weasley breaking down into hysterics, Mr. Weasley holding on to her tight, Ginny crying so hard she was starting to choke, George starring at his brother's casket, his face blank but shinning with tears…
McGonagall left the small podium in the front of the casket, moving to the back of the crowd as the clapping thinned…
George now walked slowly to the podium, visibly trembling, every step looking like a major effort…
"Fred…" He began, his tears masking his words. Loss shook through Hermione, tears came when she had thought she had been wrung dry…
"Fred wa-was my life. And s-still is…" He put his hand to his forehead, sobbing. "I ha-ha-have lost th-the best part of m-me. Yo-you will ne-never be far f-from me, brother. Hero." His weeping was more painful then anything else Hermione had seen yet…
"…friend." He concluded, falling back upon Charlie, hugging him tightly, his legs giving out.
Speaking was now over, Hermione guessed through her haze as all of the Weasleys lined up in front of the marble grave.
Things had suddenly gone very cold, spite the spiking temperatures.
Harry nudged her, looking though her veil of tears just as bad as she felt. She fell in step behind him, in the line to say goodbye.
Hermione bent down, picked up a dandelion from the green, smooth lawn, and reached deep inside of her, trusting herself to find the right spell. She closed her eyes.
She opened them to find a white zinnia in her grasp. The line moved forward.
It was now her turn.
Mrs. Weasley was holding on tight to the closed head of the casket, her husband behind her, now holding unto Bill with all of his might.
Ron was kneeling at the other end of the gravestone, his head pressed on the Marble, his mouth forming words Hermione could not understand.
Ginny was sitting in a chair next to Percy where Hermione was standing minutes before.
Harry had just left Fred after placing his hands on it and letting out a sob that just wrenched Hermione's heart.
She walked up to the white marble. Placing the zinnia on top, she shut her eyes to the horrible sight in front of her.
"Thank you Fred." A small voice said inside her head. "Thank you, for being so brave, for being so bold." She shuddered. "For being so you."