fleeting, a fred weasley fanfic
one: a quiet summer
June 25, 1996
It's quiet, almost too quiet at the burrow. Normally, the quaint house would have been rattled by the sounds of rambunctious laughter, frazzled steps, and Mrs. Weasley's voice echoing through the thin walls, easily overheard by those within a two mile radius of their home. The sun shone bright, streaming through the windows in the most dazzling golden haze. The birds chirped, their sweet melodies in harmony with one another. The soft summer breeze weaved its way through the individual blades of grass and colorful wildflowers strewn about the land. It was the kind of day you'd step outside to appreciate. Normally, the Weasleys would have. Playing quidditch, pulling harmless little pranks on one another. But today wasn't one of those days.
Instead they sat at their dining table, no one daring to look at the others in the eye. Their breakfast remained untouched, even Ron who would usually be scarfing down eggs and toast down his throat pushed his plate away from himself. Occasionally, a sigh would escape someone's lips, but it never progressed to more than that. They all struggled to find the words, eyes dry from crying most nights. No sounds of silverware against porcelain, only the subtle little ticks of the clock as its hands moved to indicate the passage of time. In a few minutes they'd have to leave the burrow and make their way to the graveyard at Godric's Hollow, a journey none were looking forward to making.
Molly and Arthur held each other hands underneath the table, neither sure of whose hand was the one shaking. She was so young, it was too soon. Too quick a death for someone so strong. They looked around to the children that sat at the table with them, all not far in age to Cass. Their heart ached at her memory. She was not their child, but with all the summers she spent at the burrow with them, they had come to love her like one; just as they loved Harry, looking over to where he sat at the end of the table.
Harry gripped the edge of his seat, his knuckles almost turning white. He's biting his lip, a little harder and he would have drawn blood. His glasses were a little askew, but he made no attempts of fixing it, just staring down at his plate and unable to find his appetite. What would have happened if he didn't listen to Sirius and stayed? Would Cass be alive? It could've been him to fall through the veil. It could've been Sirius. Harry shook his head violently, as if that would dispel the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind the past week. His breath gets caught in his throat as his gaze briefly landed on George.
George had his eyes shut, so tight that his eyebrows scrunched down. But everyone knew he was nowhere near from falling asleep, despite the fact that he had not been getting any the past few days. The evidence in the dark and heavy bags underneath his eyes. His breathing was calm, almost a scary kind of steady for someone who had just lost one of his best friends. Their gaze moved back and forth from their plates to him, nervous, as if he were a ticking time bomb.
But across from George was an even heavier, more alarming absence. The empty chair seemed to pull them in as they thought about its usual owner. His twin usually occupied the seat across him, and it was usually mornings like this where they would find him sending the entire house into fits of laughter after playing a prank on their brother Percy. But it was not one of those mornings.
Fred Weasley was up in the room he shared with his twin brother. His hands trembled as he attempted to button up the crisp white shirt his mother had gotten him years ago. It was huge on him then, but it seemed to fit perfectly now. He eventually gave up after the fourth, his shirt only buttoned up half way. Fred runs a hand through his already messy hair, glancing up at the mirror in front of him.
"You can do this." He said to himself, but a sigh leaves his lips once he realized he probably can't.
No amount of preparation could ever prepare him for what had happened. It was only a week since Cass died, but the ache in his chest felt like it had been there for months. Days passed slower since she left him, even he seemed to move slower since then.
The floorboards creaked as he moved to sit on the edge of his bed, keeping an ear out for his family's voices, only to be met with pure silence. Fred knew how they all walked on eggshells around him. They rarely spoke to him, only calling him down for meals. They looked at him with pity, eyes soft and mouth formed in a small pout. As if he were made of fine china, as if he would break with one wrong look or word.
It would have been better if they punched him in the gut or slapped him across the face.
"I'm sorry, son." His father said, a hand on his back in an attempt to comfort him. Arthur apologized as if it were his fault.
But if anything, Fred felt like it was his. He should have tried to stop her from going with Harry. He should have at least come with her to the ministry. He should've fought by her side.
He could've saved her.
The sound of someone coming up the stairs snapped him out of his thoughts, his hands moving on their own to finish buttoning up his shirt. He stood from the bed, making his way back in front of the mirror. The man that stared back at him had dishevelled hair, dark circles under his eyes, and deathly pale skin.
As he stared at himself, he knew only one thing: he was not the same man he was a week ago, and he's unsure if will ever be that man again.
first update !!! not a lot of action / dialogue but i felt that it would be good to situate y'all with what's been going on / how everyone is feeling oof
i will ~try~ to update this at least once a week since as i've mentioned this will be very very short compared to stars so hopefully it won't take me years to finish it HHAHAH
all my love,
YOU ARE READING
fleeting | fred weasleyFanfiction
in which fred weasley learns to pick up the pieces ... a 'stars' spin off (/sequel). though you don't have to read it, this can pretty much act as a standalone.