Work Text:
So tell me how to be in this world
Tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt
Tell me how 'cause I believe in something
I believe in us
Fred Weasley's burial is a small, private affair.
Just the family , Ginny thinks to herself. She glances at the group around her, eight red-heads, a blonde, one head of bushy brown hair, and one black-haired boy. She had almost, almost, manages a smile, because it's right that Fleur, Harry, and Hermione are there.
Of course, there was never a question that Fleur would be there, seeing as she now has the Weasley name. But Harry and Hermione had initially insisted that they didn't want to "intrude". Ginny and Ron had argued with them about it, while they were making breakfast for the Burrow's inhabitants, a few days before.
Harry and Hermione had tried pointing out that they would be at Fred's funeral, which would be the party to celebrate Fred "properly". In the end, Ron had shut them down, firmly telling them, "you two are part of the family," which made both of them blush and smile shyly to themselves.
And so Fred's burial is attended by his family.
Of course, Ginny wholeheartedly agrees that they should be here. After all, her stomach still aches when she passes the "family photo" that had been taken during Bill and Fleur's wedding, now hanging on the wall of the Burrow's staircase.
There are only eight red-heads smiling out of the photo, instead of the nine that should have been there. She tries her best to avoid looking at it, but when she accidentally catches a glance of it, all she can think about is their trip to Egypt, in the Summer of 1993.
It will forever the last time that all seven of the Weasley siblings were together.
Fred is dead.
That was the cruel irony of burying someone, Ginny realizes, as the whole family stands at Fred's newly filled grave. Even though, in the most literal sense, Fred was there with them, his spirit was missing.
She had been told, by well meaning friends and acquaintances, a million times in the last week that Fred's spirit "will always be with you". But Ginny had scoffed at the thought, fully aware of the scalding truth that she would be able to never laugh with Fred again.
It hadn't been until Harry had told her about the Resurrection Stone that Ginny had considered that maybe, just maybe, they were right.
Fred is dead.
Instinctively, Ginny glances around to find him.
It had become something of a habit since the battle, an almost compulsive need to search for him periodically.
Perhaps she was desperate to make sure he was really alive, after watching Hagrid carry him back to the castle?
Or maybe she wanted to make sure he hadn't disappeared again, like he had the year before?
Or, she just wanted to feel tethered to something, to keep herself from free-falling.
She finds him quickly, and Harry is already looking at her, standing a little ways away, Ron sandwiched between him and Hermione.
They lock eyes, and something about his expression is so unabashedly Harry, and for a moment she lets herself be held in his gaze.
But as much as it soothes her, there is also an unmistakable intensity that threatens to break her, and she looks away. She forces herself to look at the forest clearing they're in instead.
It's a beautiful place for a grave , she thinks.
George had picked the spot, telling the family about how he and Fred would come out here, to the trees behind the Burrow, the Summer before their sixth year, to talk about their dreams for the joke shop. Not coming up with product ideas, or planning how they could the supplies to start making prototypes, those things they talked about shut up in their room. Here they would dream.
Where would they would open up other stores, after a first one in Diagon Alley? Hogsmeade was the obvious next choice, George had said, but what about after that? Where would the expand to first, once they started opening up international stores, beyond the British Isles?
Later than night, after the rest of the family had disappeared or gone to bed, George and Ginny had sat on the settee together. "Fred came up for the name of the shop, while we were in the clearing," he had told her, and she had hugged him tightly.
Fred is dead.
In the end, the whole family had contributed in their own way, determined to make the clearing a worthy place for Fred to rest.
Charlie had built a little fence around the enclosure, not for protection, but to mark it as Fred's. Ron, with help from Harry and Hermione, had cleared it of fallen leaves and broken branches, making quick work of it at one in the morning, when Ron couldn't sleep. Dad and Bill had worked together on the headstone, magically chipping away at a large stone that had already been there, and inscribing it. And Percy, with George's blessing, had transfigured Fred's old Cleansweep into a bench, which now sat beside the headstone.
The only contribution you couldn't see is Mum's, because she had dressed Fred.
"I dressed him in his first outfit, you know," she had told Ginny in a low voice, as she carefully removed every speck of dirt and invisible wrinkle from the clothes, preparing them for the next day. "After he and George were born. We took it in turns with all of you, dressing you in your first outfit. I dressed Bill, Percy, George, and you, and your father did Charlie, Fred, and Ron."
Ginny had stayed by her side as her mum methodically worked, silently, and hoped that was enough.
When it came time to actually dress him, Mum insisted on doing it alone. It had taken an hour, during which the rest of the family had sat in the living room, waiting, holding on the long-cold cups of tea.
And now, Fred is wearing those same clothes, but he is buried under the soil, separated from the rest of their family by an infinite distance.
Fred is dead.
Ginny blinks back tears, dragging her gaze away from the dark, freshly dug dirt she finds herself transfixed on, and forces herself to read the words staring back at her from Fred's headstone.
Fred Gideon Weasley
1 April, 1978 - 2 May, 1998
Brother, son, mischief maker.
Somehow, this doesn't make anything better.
Ginny takes several steps backwards then, suddenly desperate to get away. She nearly trips on the slightly uneven ground beneath her.
The distance did, however, opens up her field of vision, which means she sees when George's knees finally give out.
Time slows as he tumbles to the ground, his body going completely limp, and Ginny's mind conjures up the horrid images of Percy and Bill carrying Fred's body into the Great Hall.
Her heart freezes.
Fred, sagging between them as they stumbled over the rubble in the entry way.
Her fists clench, and there's a sharp pain in her palms where her nails dig in.
Fred, staring blankly at the ceiling, there's no mysterious twinkle in his eye anymore.
Darkness swarms the edge of her vision as Ginny struggles to remember how to breathe.
Fred is dead.
There's a feather-light brush against her elbow, and Ginny nearly collapses herself at the unexpected touch.
"Gin?" Harry asks, eyes full of concern as he looks down at her.
Fred is dead.
"I'm fine," she says forcefully. But Harry still has a dubious expression on his face.
Ginny pulls away from him, looking around desperately for something, anything, to distract herself.
Fred is dead.
Dad and Charlie are now helping George down the path, back towards the house, half-carrying him between them. Bill and Fleur follow them, arms wrapped around each other's waists, and Percy's a step behind, frantically wringing his hands. Ron and Hermione are off to the side, her brother with his face buried in his girlfriend's hair, Hermione rubbing soothing circles on his back and whispering into his ear, even as tears stream down her cheeks.
And Mum...
Molly Weasley is sat on that bench. Her body is rigid, feet firmly planted on the ground, her hands are grasped tightly in her lap.
Fred is dead.
"I'm fine," Ginny says again, fully aware she is trying to convince herself, more than anything.
She steps away from Harry, instead sitting down beside her mother.
They sit in silence for a long time.
At some point, Ginny registers the sound of footsteps moving away from them. Evidently, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, had decided to return to the house as well, but she doesn't turn to check.
Fred is dead.
Mum lets out a gasping breathe, as if she has just come up for air after nearly drowning.
Ginny jumps at the sudden noise, her head whipping around to stare at her mother.
"Are you alright?" she asks, immediately mentally chastising herself for the stupid question.
Of course she isn't.
Fred is dead.
Her mum gives the same answer that Ginny herself had just given, though she isn't sure if it was minutes or hours before.
"I'm okay, dear."
"Mum..." Ginny says, softly.
"Yes?"
"I know how much it hurts...." she trails off slightly, knowing that she has no idea how to get her point across. She tries again.
"None of us are okay right now, and that's okay."
Her mum reaches out and takes Ginny's hand.
It's another few minutes before Molly Weasley can find her words again, but when she does, she mutters, "I pushed him out the way."
"What?''
"When Percy arrived," she gulps, "I pushed Fred out of the way, I just couldn't believe Percy had come, after all that time... But I didn't mean to brush him off like that."
"Oh Mum," Ginny whispers.
"I don't even remember if I said anything else to him, before.... before..."
Fred is dead.
But she can't go on, and Ginny instinctively leans over to hug her. Her mother holds her just as fiercely in return, even as she sobs.
Somehow, in between gasps for air, her mother asks, "what if he thought I didn't love him?"
"He knew," Ginny tightens her arms. "Fred knew how much you loved him. I know he did."
She isn't just placating her mother, saying what seems right. Ginny knows this is indisputable truth. A new wave of tears slide down her own face.
Fred is dead.
They stay like that, comforting each other, until the sound of footsteps interrupt them, and Ginny looks up to see her Dad standing above them.
"C'mon Molly, dear," he says softly, reaching out a hand and gently pulling Mum to her feet. She seems to collapse into his arms, and Arthur rubs her back even as he has to close his eyes tightly.
Ginny can't help but watch them, and therefore catches her father's gaze when he looks down at her again.
He nods his head slightly in the direction of the gate, and Ginny glances over to see Harry, hovering slightly at the gate as he obviously tries not to intrude.
When she looks back, her dad's mouth gives a weak twitch, like he's trying to give her a reassuring smile, but his face can't quite remember how to do it anymore.
Fred is dead.
She understands that feeling.
Slowly, her parents shuffle away, her father whispering words of comfort as the go, and sits Ginny alone, still on the bench.
Except she's not alone, because she can still feel Harry's presence on the other side of the clearing, not coming closer, but not giving up on her all the same.
Ginny keeps staring at her brother's grave.
Fred is dead.
Logically, she knows that sitting here will accomplish nothing. Even if she never moves again, she isn't going to magically get any answers. Still, it's a while before Ginny can give up on relieving that heavy pressure that is still pressing on her chest.
She rises to her feet.
"Bye Fred," she whispers, her fingers ghosting along the top of the headstone, starkly cold, even in the summer heat.
She pulls herself away, turning towards the little gate to begin the trek back to the Burrow.
Ginny doesn't stop as she passes Harry, but she does slow down slightly, and he understands.
They fall into step together, Harry intertwining their fingers when Ginny brushes her hand against his.
The world is basked in a golden glow now, which only makes Ginny think of her brother's devilish grin.
Fred is dead.
Just before they pass the tree line, Ginny stops, tugging Harry's hand so he turns to face her, eyes moving over every centimeter of her face.
This had become his habit, since the battle. Looking at he could never look at her enough.
Perhaps he needs it as much as she does?
"Harry," she says softly.
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
Harry seems to freeze at her words, before starting to blink like he had been hit with a Confundus charm.
Ginny stays steadfast and grips his hand.
Of course, she knows now that she's loved him for a long time, since even before they dated. Not her silly schoolgirl crush on a hero, though. She had started to love him sometime after she plucked up her Gryffindor courage and learned how to talk to him, and then he had become Harry .
Just Harry.
Even if she had realized this, that younger version of Ginny would have died of embarrassment at the prospect of actually telling Harry any of this, but now?
He makes her laugh with just a look. He is unfailingly kind, and at the same time matches her competitiveness with his own fire. And somewhere along the line, he's become her greatest source of comfort, soothing her just with his presence as they are burying her brother.
Fred is dead.
"Talking with Mum, just now... she reminded me that you can't ever say it too much. Because otherwise, you might wake up one day and think you didn't say it enough." She gives his hand another squeeze, "and I love you."
Reaching up, she places a soft kiss on his cheek, before moving to continue their journey back to the house. But Harry doesn't follow.
Instead, he tugs her back, stepping ever so slightly closer to her, although he still seems to be struggling for words. This strikes her as a bit odd, because normally he would just say the first thing that comes into his mind.
From somewhere in the back of her mind, things click into place. "You don't remember anyone telling you that before, do you?"
"No," Harry admits.
There's a new pang in her heart, and so Ginny squares herself. "Well, I know that Ron and Hermione love you too. And the rest of my brothers, and my parents. They all love you, and I love you."
Harry blinks at her a few more times, before wrapping his arms around her shoulders and tucking her under his chin.
Ginny hugs him tightly, and she can hear and feel his heartbeat. Because he is here, and she is so incredible thankful for that.
Fred is dead, Harry is alive.
The two facts don't negate each other. Harry being here doesn't make it irrelevant that her brother is gone. Fred is dead, but that doesn't mean she can't be grateful that Harry is alive.
"I love you, Gin," he whispers, and somehow they manage to hold each other even tighter.
When they break apart, Harry presses a kiss to her forehead, before taking her hand again. They head back into the Burrow, joining the rest of the family to grieve.
Hours later, after firewhiskey has been passed around, everyone starts sharing their favorite stories of Fred, and suddenly they are all crying with laughter.
Fred's funeral is much the same, tears of both sadness and joy, stories and laughter, and everyone working to put a few more pieces back in place.
Ginny makes a point of telling her friends and family that she loves them every single time she thinks it.
Nothing has been fixed, not by a long shot. The heavy weight on her chest is still threatening to engulf her at any moment. But somehow, she can breathe a little easier, and that's enough.
Tell me when the light goes out
That even in the dark we can find a way out
Tell me now 'cause I believe in something
I believe in us