May 9, 1998

I had arrived from the states this morning, the time difference had left me vaguely detached from reality and too exhausted to fully comprehend my journey from the Portkey station in the center of the Atlantic. An old, abandoned ship lodged on some far-flung rock off the coast of Greenland – I had gotten lost and missed my original connection somewhere on the upper deck. The connecting Portkey I had taken instead had dropped me on the southern coast of England instead of London and I was able to apparate myself to the edge of the graveyard where the Weasley's would be holding a funeral.

I tried not to break my ankle as I ran up the dirt path before me in a pair of low heels. My hair was flying loose around my shoulders and down my back, my hair tie had snapped and fell into the sea at the Portkey station because my life was a sick joke.

Perhaps it would have been better to wait for Percy at home, but the need to see him was so strong it overrode all reason that had guided my decisions to this point. I'm clearly insane – but who would not be at this point? There was a madness in the idea of love that could erode everything good and sensible in my mind. Clearly, I was the protagonist of a romance novel in its final chapters and good sense was never part of those endings.

When my tired eyes peered through the black iron fencing of the graveyard, all I could see was a sea of black and magenta clad wizards and witches. All of them ranged from very old to very young, several darting in and out of the crowd were children who might not have been Hogwarts aged yet. Perhaps they were customers of the twins' shop or the children of neighboring shopkeepers, two of whom I recognized in the crowd.

I reached the large iron gate to find the funeral greeters there, shaking hands and having small talk with the final arrivals, I found myself at the very end of the line with more people coming behind me the closer I moved to the front.

Bill Weasley was holding himself together, taking charge of greeting the arriving funeral attendees with a burly redhead I recognized vaguely as Charlie from a picture Percy had shown me at a time that now felt like years ago instead of mere months. Bill had a neater ponytail and had left his fang earring in place, allowing it to dangle. It was a good effort to lead people's eyes away from his facial scars, not an effective deterrent in the long term, but it was a better small talk opening. Charlie had rolled back the sleeves of his black dress robes slightly to show off his dragon fire burn scars – giving him an air of unstated courage and ferocity.

I remembered my last encounter with Bill in Diagon Alley when I was with Tavish, I was in disguise then and... Well, frankly, that would be very awkward to mention at any point in the future. I would have to dig in and pretend that none of that had ever happened.

I made it to the front of the line, and took Bill's offered hand, shaking it and offering the appropriate platitudes for the loss of Fred and my condolences to the family. A thing he had probably heard a hundred times before I even arrived. I should say something personal and nice.

"Fred made me laugh during one of the worst times of my life," I pushed my hair out of my face. "I'll always be grateful for that."

Bill smiled as he released my hand. His smile was crooked due to the scars, but reached his eyes with an edge of humor and moroseness. "He tended to do that – bit of a talent for it."

"You American?" Charlie's voice boomed and made me jump slightly. "Where are you from?"

"New York." I got tired of explaining Albany to people, it wasn't the time for that anyway.

"Oh," Charlie sighed, a clear tone of disappointment. "No dragons then?"

I shrugged, "We can't invite the dragons to New York for a No-Maj buffet."

The elder Weasley boys laughed and I quickly extracted myself to go beyond the gate and into the graveyard where I could see the massive crowd of mourners.

This funeral was massive. So full of people I could scarcely find room to breathe through the sadness and mutual grief of people mourning a loved one. There was a quiet grimness to the whole affair I recognized from Alex's funeral. The death of a young person who was making their way in the world always had an unstated sort of tragedy to it. One who died fighting for justice blatantly, like Fred did, seemed to inspire both grief and reverence by turn. Dying for a higher cause of ultimate victory could be a blow softener perhaps, but it did not seem to alleviate the pain at all.

I paused and glanced around, hoping to find a refreshment table after my run to the graveyard – my feet were killing me, running was an awful idea. What I found instead were some people clustered nearby who were exchanging funny stories that brought chuckles and a few belly laughs, others held each other in comfort in a kind silence.

I glanced around for Percy, he would be here and if he was not, he would be nearby and-

There was Molly Weasley with a blank half away expression as she leaned on Arthur for support and the mere act of looking at her broke my heart. She seemed so lost.

Arthur was holding himself together for his wife, engaging with the well-wishers and condolences when she clearly could not do so any longer. There was something in Arthur's eyes that reminded me of my father at Alex's funeral and I had to turn away from the both of them. I had seen the grief before, been awash in it stateside as I told my great lie and it hurt worse to see it again so soon on the face of another.

This was not a place for me. I could not meet the family over the grave of one of their dead, it was callous, cold and would just put a damper on the whole thing. I can't do that. I don't want meeting Percy's family to be in sad tidings, I did not want to add to the weight of Percy missing so much time with his family through the ill-timed introduction and questions. We could not bring home to them the time they all lost to be together and whole.

There was a crowd of well-wishers and friends nearby, a massive group of people in varying shades of magenta robes. They were crying and laughing, supporting one another through the loss of a young man who was clearly well loved.

I recognized Oliver Wood and Katie Bell nearby, standing next to a vacant eyed George Weasley. I was not sure I had ever noticed he was missing an ear before. George was wearing black mourning robes and he looked... Well, he looked like I felt after finding Alex. Lost. Lonely. Unshaved. Scruffy. Just barely surviving one of the worst moments of his life. He was here physically, but mentally somewhere else.

Looking at George was difficult, and I did not want to be caught staring so I turned my attention to other places, hoping to see Percy and maybe catch him alone.

Maybe I should have just gone to the apartment...

I recognized Ron, towering over those who stood closest to him, which I knew intellectually were Hermione and Harry. Hermione's hair was fighting its way free of a prim, formal bun at the back of her head. I kept losing sight of her in the passing crowd – though Ron seemed to be gripping Hermione's hand tightly, perhaps so she would not go missing.

That is an interesting development.

Harry Potter was speaking quietly to his two friends, Ron in particular, who seemed to be nodding in agreement with what Harry was saying between periods of interruption by the funeral attendees who wanted to speak with any of the trio or just shake their hands and offer Ron condolences.

Ginny Weasley appeared suddenly next to Harry, I was not sure how long she had been there, if she had just arrived or if I had missed seeing her entirely. She was a very small, petite sort of girl. The way she and Harry looked at one another, there was a kind of maturity in in that belayed teenage lusts and I looked away out of anxiety of being caught seeing the unspoken intimacies of other people's lives.

I glanced back at the four young people to find two more had joined them, a willowy, waifish sort of girl with blonde hair and a far-off, almost vacant, expression. Next to her was Neville Longbottom, who seemed unharmed or well healed from his misadventure as a human lamp as he spoke a few words to Harry.

The crowd swarmed over me again, blocking the six of them from my sight and I resumed my search for Percy, this was the wrong time... But the need to see him alive had overtook my good sense of social protocol. Just one glimpse and I could slip away to see him at home, or make sure I stayed near the back of the funeral ceremony, or... Wait. I could go see Elizabeth Fudge.

I remembered something under all the drama and chaos of the day. This is the graveyard where Elizabeth had been buried. I had wanted to come see her, but the loss had been so fresh, then the war began and there just had not been time to do so safely.

Slipping away from this crowd would be easy, I would go up to higher ground to see Elizabeth Fudge's grave, leave her some of the flowers I had brought and then go back down to be awkward with strangers. I would have a better chance of seeing Percy in this mess when he was called for the burial. Maybe I should just go wait outside of Percy's apartment like a stalker or a stray cat?

No. Seeing Elizabeth might calm my nerves. If Percy and I parted ways as friends and allies in the next few hours, it would be helpful to remember that I would truly have freedom from the concerns of being a political wife. If the war did not completely ruin Percy's prospects, he was clearly too capable and too dogged stubborn to release into the private sector. That good will and care for public service was better serving the wider wizarding community then turned to the prospects of small business ownership.

It might be worth turning Percy to running a bookshop if he ever got sick of politics - he would never!

I made it to the edge of the crowd to follow the road towards Elizabeth's grave. Elizabeth Fudge had been buried further back in the graveyard, at the top of an out of the way hill. It would be a nice walk to see an old friend for a few minutes. I kicked a pebble down the path, idle in thought. I wonder what she would have thought of all of this mess over the last two years? She was never very interested in politics; her politics were her obligations to her husband's career.

The eternal conundrum of a political wife.

A second pebble bounced off the toe of my heel and flew off the path and into a nearby headstone, making me wince and whisper an apology as I passed. It was enough to make me stop kicking rocks like a child as I took the turn in the path to go uphill.

The gray skies above opened to allow a quiet drizzle of misty rain. I stopped to take it in for a moment. It was cold and calming on my skin. Refreshing. I was in no rush to repel the water with spells or shelter, it was nice. The breeze picked up and sent my hair into my face.

My mother could not survive the political rise of my father, walking one step behind him for the appearance of a strong political family ruined her with the stress of it. I would not be that. I had learned not to wrap myself in political apathy by stepping away from the political advisory role that was unique to the spouse. My political career was never going to get off the ground, I never wanted it too, but after the mess of the last several years I would never be able to turn fully away from it – public silence but never private compliance would be the hallmarks of my future. Percy needed a political advisor, a softening force to make him palatable to people he would have to ally with. I was in a unique position to help put Percy wherever he wanted to go and issue a degree of damage control to manage the end of atrocities before they began on two continents.

That is if he would still have me after everything...

My breath stopped as I crested the hill.

There was already someone else at the grave.

Percy was stepping away from the headstone, having just left a flower at its base. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black funeral robes that I recognized from Elizabeth's funeral. There was exhaustion in the slight slope of his posture. His brilliantly flaming hair stood in radical contrast to the gray halo of settling mist beyond.

"Hi." My voice was half lost in the rain, but Percy turned with wide eyes. His glasses misty from the drizzling rain and the world felt like it was finally realigning itself as the breeze picked up my hair to blow it around me.

His mouth moved and made no sound, silence from Percy was so strange but it did not stop me from running forward, my heels sinking into the dirt beneath me and slowing me down as I yanked myself free to propel myself forward.

Percy met me halfway, clutching me as tightly as I was him and I could do was focus on the feel of him in my arms and the way he trembled and breathed under my hands as his whispered my name in a mindless sort of chant. "Oh, Audrey!"

A rush of joyous laughter was muffled against his chest as he spun me slightly, the pointed toes of my heels whispering over the damp grass.

"You're here!" His voice was hoarse and croaking, as if he had barely used it in days. "Tell me I'm not dreaming."

"I'm as real as you are! I'm sorry I left the way I did!" The words poured out of me suddenly, overshadowing the rush of joy of being in his arms again. My hands tightened their grip on the back of his robes.

Percy was shushing into my hair and holding me tighter, pressing the air from my lungs with the force of it. "It's okay. We'll talk about it later, I'm – I'm just so happy to see you!" His hold on me eased and I found myself back on my own two feet, we were still touching, still so close together I was tilting my head back to look at him properly.

There were heavy dark shadows under his red rimmed eyes, I could barely see both of these things behind his glasses. Percy was pale and exhausted; I did not think he had lost weight but it was hard to tell with him at points. I put my hand to his cheek to move a few stray hairs back into place. He turned his head slightly to kiss my palm, allowing me a brief glimpse at the small healed scar on his neck from spell burn. I slipped my other hand from his back to trace it slowly with a finger, wondering how far down under his collar the wound went.

"Percy-"

"Don't worry about it."

His hands were tucking my hair back to trace the shell of my ears before suddenly cupping my face, his thumbs moving slowly over the apples of my cheeks, wiping away my tears as he peered into my eyes. I was not sure he was blinking, his eyes roamed over me, leaving me chilled and warmed, excited and a little nauseous in a delirious, delicious, manner. My hand stopped moving at his neck, Percy completely held my attention like a siren from the old Greek mythos we had been working through in the evenings before I had departed – I would throw myself to the waves for the mere wild hope of being with him. There was no question in that, just acceptance. I sighed quietly, relaxing into the cool sensation of his hands on my face and the warmth of his breath as he moved closer.

I suddenly understood that my anxious visions of the pair of us coming to an abrupt end, parting ways completely were unfounded. We were too tightly entwined with one another and – well, frankly, the way Percy kissed me was so passionate and all-consuming my worries slipped into the aether.

We came apart slowly, I pulled him back to me by caressing the back of his head and guiding him back. Kissing him was like being sunk into warm water, pleasurable and relaxing, calming so affirming to the fact that we had survived our time apart.

Words spilled out of me, ignoring our unspoken pretence of silent relief. "I should have told you in person!" My lips moved against his as I spoke, Percy still caressing my face like I was something delicate and precious, which made this torrent of regret so much worse as my words whispered against his mouth. "I should have come home sooner! I-"

Percy's thumb moved over my mouth, tracing my lower lip and stunning me into silence with the intimacy of it. "I love you."

Three words stopped me cold and made me sniffle in the cold. One of my hands moved down to rest over Percy's heart, it was beating firmly and quietly under my hands.

"I'm sorry I wasn't with you-"

The rest was unspoken and understood as Percy kissed me into silence.

We had a lifetime ahead of us.


Oo0Oo0


I stayed for the funeral, sitting quietly in the back of the service pews next to an elderly couple of Diagon Alley shopkeepers who got to know the twins when they were first setting up the shop. The wife brought them lunch for the first few days and told me that she had to drag the pair off to buy real cookware so they would stop transfiguring plates to do the job and then to buy a second pair of bedsheets because boys never think about those things.

Percy had three pairs of bedsheets, being too factitious and cautious for two. Yep. I managed to avoid the common woman's problem of housebreaking a man. I chose very well.

The smug thought went away when the doors to the stone storage area opened wide, the wood doors creaking loudly and a Speaker stepped forward as a great shadow emerged behind him. I was suddenly, harshly, reminded of our purpose for being here today.

The five remaining Weasley brothers were acting as pallbearers for Fred. Harry Potter had joined them to make it an even six. They moved as one down the aisle following the Speaker bearing a lit torch as everyone stood in respect as Fred made his final journey. The eerie silence that settled over the crowd was deafening, speaking volumes in this moment of the finality of loss.

I knew Colin Creevey was being buried early next week, Lucinda had mentioned it before I left for the states with the stone urn. That would be another funeral to attend, a more awkward one for the Creevey brothers were Muggleborn and there would not be any magical procession or celebration, just the overwhelming grief of a life cut short. This was the long-term symptom of a social illness that required young people to die for something better. Their sacrifice would be honored – but it would linger for those left behind.

I watched Percy as he passed by with the coffin, the weight of the world on his shoulders in that moment as he continued his walk down the aisle with his brothers. His eyes downcast only focusing what he could see ahead of him.

Fred's casket was placed on the stone alter and the six men parted to take their seats at the front, next to their parents and their sister. I could see Percy next to George and felt myself begin to mindlessly sit down with the rest of the crowd as the Speaker called for order and began to welcome the crowd, sending his condolences to the family from the front of the crowd.

The Speaker spoke well of Fred, stating that Fred was a brilliant, inventive mind that often led him to choose chaos in a way that allowed him to share the joy and possibility he saw in the world. An expression of who he was a person and how he related to the wider world. Fred Weasley was a man who died too young, but had left an enduring legacy through the love he had for his family, his business partnership with his twin George, and the joy that he was able to provide in times of darkness.

This man gives a good eulogy... I winced at the thought. The Speaker was good for a reason, I wonder how many services he had led in the last couple of weeks?

The Speaker continued on, that the best way to honor Fred and his legacy, was to learn to find joy in darkness and perhaps, the Speaker gave a wry smile, start a bit of chaos for a lark in his memory whenever the mood strikes.

There was a rumbling laugh through the younger crowd of attendees.

The stone alter that held Fred's casket was lowered slowly to the earth below. The attendees stood and held their wands up towards the sky, the tips lit in a tribute to the short impactful life of Fred Weasley.

I joined in, barely noticing the wetness from my eyes as I did so. I wiped away the tears, that felt silly and selfish as I had barely known Fred and felt I had no right to outward grief.

The service ended and the crowd began to congregate and offer final condolences to the family or break off to have a chat. I saw George slipping away with a magenta clad figure towards the stone house that housed Fred's casket before the final service.

Not my monkey, not my circus.

I stepped out into the aisle, half pushed out by the people behind me, and moved quickly and quietly out of the rush of people. It was awkward being here, I was glad I had come for this, but it was so strange to know these people and not have them know me. It was peaceful and strange and –

Percy's voice broke through my thoughts as he moved to stand next to me. The distance between us was respectable and professional in nature. Anyone looking at us would not believe us to be lovers, just acquittances. The understanding of where we were and who I was had overcome us once more, leaving only the silly game we needed to play a for hopefully a little bit longer. I ignored the terrible need to hold Percy's hand or hug him to comfort his pained expression, we could set that aside for later. We knew and understood this social nuance far too well.

I shifted slightly, moving a bit closer to Percy and the warmth of him I knew so well under the guise of the crowd being a bit to close and froze at the sight of Harry Potter coming up the aisle, speaking with people who kept reaching out to shake his hand or thank him.

I must have looked absolutely starstruck, because the next thing I knew Percy was waving Harry over in the most ostentatious of tones which got Harry's attention quickly, if reluctantly, and he made his way towards the pair of us.

Percy, always a force of nature in regard to proper introductions, quickly took charge of the matter. "Harry, this is Audrey, she worked at the Ministry with me." Percy gestured me forward to offer my hand to Harry's to shake. Harry Potter had warmer hands then I thought he would possess, his hair was finally fully free of the efforts made to tame it for the funeral, flying askew in multiple different directions.

"It's nice to finally meet you." I struggled to speak, the pleasantries were dying on my tongue and all I could do was loose control entirely before Harry was pulled away completely.

"Likewise." Our hands broke apart and other people could see clearly where Harry was and there was a sudden movement from the people behind him wanting to see him as well. "Where were you working in the Ministry?"

"Minister's office." I nodded quickly. "I saw everything and I'll be speaking to Shacklebolt's administration this week."

Harry's eyes widened slightly, he looked closely at me with a slightly furrowed brow and glanced over at Percy who was watching the exchange with a carefully guarded expression. I imagined there were many things Percy was not going to be telling his family about during his time away, it would be best to change the subject until we got our stories straight.

"Is it true?" My voice was vaguely breathless, but audible as I looked imploringly at Harry Potter, he really did have very pretty eyes. I was surprised to see such a vivid green in person. "Is it true you can talk to snakes?"

Percy started talking to cover up what he saw a faux pas before Harry could answer. A senseless apologetic babble for the bluntness of a foreign colleague – that this was a cultural thing not a morbid, invasive curiosity and not intended to be as rude as it came across as.

I just needed to know I was not alone in the burden of it.

Harry looked thoughtful, ignoring Percy's chatter as if he was trying to decide how to answer that question.

"No," Harry's voice cut through Percy's ongoing speech about the wide array of cultural differences within America. Harry's voice was quietly, not authoritative, but tentative and confident. "Not anymore."

"Oh…"

Before I could say anything else, like offer my own apology for being nosy, Harry was pulled away by other funeral goers, ones who wanted to shake his hand and thank him, or even just look admiringly at the young man who finished the decades long shadow of British wizards. Harry was graceful about the whole matter, soon disappearing from sight behind men and women, many with red hair who were clearly assorted Weasley cousins.

"Why would you say that?" Percy whispered, not close enough to raise suspicions, but close enough for people to know this was a private exchange. "Really Audrey?"

"I don't know. I was curious, that's all. It just slipped out."

There was conviction in Harry's words. I was unable to find any room to input doubt upon his claims – it was strange to lose something I could feel wrapping around my soul as a putrid sort of secret.

There was a sudden booming noise above us that made Percy tense and reflexively reach for his wand before the sky above us lit in a whirling dance of dragons and explosive wonder. I stared at the fireworks above, they broken through the rain and shone brightly to contrast the gray in a symbolic sort of way that I was not willing to dwell on at the moment.

The people around us broke out into loud cheers. Percy shifted closer to me as the crowd cheered and the noise around us could not drown out the roaring anxieties inside my own head.

If I breathed a word of my ability, if any hint of it got beyond the word of the madman in the jail cell, if he was ever believed... I had the ability to topple empires with the exposure of my being a parselmouth. I could lose everything I had built in the span of moments.

An intrinsic sort of loneliness rose up inside of me at the realization as the fireworks disappeared and the crowd chanted loudly for an encore.

I was the last Parselmouth in Britain.


Author's Notes: Together again.

Um, the symbolism of meeting again at Elizabeth Fudge's grave will be explained in a short story later – but the short version is she very much wanted to set them up.

The next chapter has some more immediate aftermath politics, grieving and frankly, a lot of work to put to it. See you in two weeks!