Title: Naissance
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angsty-Romance
Spoilers: Philosopher's Stone to Half-Blood Prince
Period: After HBP
Pairings: Fred Weasley/Alicia Spinnet, George Weasley/Alicia Spinnet, implied Oliver Wood/Percy Weasley and Katie Bell/Angelina Johnson.
Summary: In the midst of war, Fred Weasley and Alicia Spinnet must bury pieces of themselves to find rest.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The plot, however, is created by the writer and is not to be replicated by another.
Writer's Notes: This is an unbeta'ed version.
Naissance
a fred weasley tragedy
Frederick Weasley clenched fistfuls of moist dirt in his shaking hands, and he stared with unfocussed eyes into the shallow grave he had hollowed out in the early morning. Above him, packs of raven-blue birds circled in the overcast sky, their mournful song an insult to the memory of the one Fred lost.
Small pebbles of rock and quartz fell from Fred's hands over the lifeless body. Fred slowly buried his twin two feet below the hard soil of the Earth as the sun travelled leisurely across the dark blue sky. To the immortal deities in the universe, one mortal life did not matter, for there would always be others to follow. At that moment, Fred detested the inane and futile mission of a warlord who sought to compare himself to the gods. The redhead longed to lash out, but no one was around to be concerned with him; Fred and George were separated from the disappearing Order of the Phoenix over three months ago. The Order, under the command of Harry Potter, had split into fractions to hunt the Death Eaters. But this only made it easier for the Dark Lord and his pawns to pick them off, one by one.
Fred exhaled sharply and positioned a wilting daisy over the nameless burial place.
"In a year," he murmured. "In a year, after the war is over, I'll come back. I promise, George." Crystalline tears brimmed around his sapphire eyes. They left a glimmering trail through the layer of dust gummed to his face as they ran down his cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his hand, and mentally admonished himself; George wouldn't want him to cry, too much of who the twins were had been lost in tears.
Fred dragged his heavy body to its feet, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Teardrops merged with the dirt and formed mud, and Fred could vaguely remember a sparkling stream which flowed south of the gorge. He glanced around the woodland, but one tree looked like all the other oaks and redwoods surrounding him. The redhead's mind was buried two feet below with his twin, and he couldn't remember which way they had come.
So he set off north, because an immortal voice told him it was right.
To the south, behind a veil of oak trees, a translucent apparition grimaced.
-
The soft hues of dusk were washing the sky with wan pink and azure colours when Fred entered the abandoned village. A collection of stars emerged in the sky, and the waxing crescent moon peaked its corners through the greying clouds and billowing smoke from distant fires. Fred stalled at the rusted gates of the settlement, chewing on his lower lip. Fierce winds gathered and yowled through his dirty strands of hair. Fred momentarily considered turning foot and finding shelter elsewhere, but the immortal, invisible hand shoved him through the gates.
The small town possessed less than three administrative buildings and ten wooden houses that used feeding straw as insulation. Developed circa 1900 by a clan of wizards driven from their home along the coast of Ireland, the village took the name Naissance. That name was etched into the moss-covered plaque which was nailed to a tree to denote the market square.
Fred's eyes glanced nervously at the disappearing sun. The sky darkened to an ugly colour of grey as the sphere disappeared below the horizon. A cold breeze brew around him and ruffled the skirts of his mud-caked robes. He shivered, and pulled his heavy travelling cloak closer. The Weasley twin yawned and hurriedly wiped the tears remerging in his bloodshot eyes. As darkness was setting in, he strode toward a boarded-up building which once could have been a home.
The door squeaked on its hinges and protested the disturbance as he pushed it open. A thin layer of dust and cobwebs covered the antique furniture, and as the door slide shut behind him, a soft gust of wind unsettled the years of abandonment. Fred sneezed violently, cupping his hands over his mouth.
"What?" came a staggering cry from on the sofa. The silhouette of a woman jumped to her feet, her hands shaking from months of malnourishment. "Who-who's there? Angelina, darling? Katie, sugar?" A slip of a girl no older than twenty-three squinted through the darkness and clutched a ratty blanket to her emaciated body.
Fred took a step forward, his legs quivering from exhaustion. "Alicia?" he whispered as the soft rays of moonlight filtered through the broken windows. "It's me, Fred Weasley," he awkwardly introduced himself to the woman who he thought perished months ago with the Aurors, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell. "Alicia . . . don't you remember? Katie and Angelina are gone."
Alicia dropped onto the sofa and shook her head, her limp black hair whipping against her toffee-coloured face. "Nuh-hu. They were here yesterday, Fred. I saw them," she said, her sunken brown eyes overcast with memories of peaceful times.
A thin frown pulled at the corners of Fred's mouth, and he sat next to the former Chaser of the Gryffindor team. He slowly nodded, his mind only partially hearing her words. "How long have you been here, Alicia? Geor--erm--we've been looking for you. After the death of Angelina and Katie, no one could find your body. We thought the Death Eaters left nothing to find. Here, have something to eat." He pulled a stale loaf of bread from his pack, ripped off a piece and gave it to her.
She nibbled on it like a mouse. "I ate yesterday, I think. The moon tells me when to eat, Fred. I have to listen to it. Here, I can't eat this. The moon told me." She shoved the half-eaten bread into Fred's hands. "I'm tired, Fred. When the night arrives with the last of the horsemen, wake me. I can sleep then. Forever sleep. Did you see Angelina in her black wedding dress? She couldn't wear white but she was still gorgeous. And then there was Katie, almost late for her own wedding. It was Oliver's fault, remember? He was her best man for the ceremony and he didn't have dress robes. They were so lucky to find each other. I wish I could have found a love like that. But three people cannot marry. Did Ron and Luna marry yet?"
Fred didn't have the heart to tell her that Ron and Luna were dead. "Erm, yeah. Last month, remember? You were there," he lied, and ushered her head into his shoulder, his slender fingers playing with her coarse strands of hair.
Alicia yawned and angled her head toward him. "I remember," she affirmed in a whisper as she leaned forward to lightly press her lips to his freckled cheek. "Will we marry soon, George?"
Fred blanched at his twin's name, and he couldn't bring himself to reply.
Alicia snuggled closer, her breathing shallower as she let her heavy eyelids drift closed.
"I have it all figured out. Angelina and Katie will be my bridesmaids. Fred will be your best man, of course. We'll have an autumn ceremony. In the park. Maybe a double ceremony with Ron and Luna. Does she realise how lucky she is? She'll be a wonderful wife. Oliver must be there as well; he is Percy's lover after all. And . . . we will dance the first dance, something romantic. . . . Elton John. Or . . . The Beatles . . . or the Spice Girls. Before Ginger . . . left. We're some of the lucky ones . . . aren't we? George? I . . . I love you . . . okay?"
She then put her head onto Fred's lap, and closed her eyes a final time with a smile upon her face.