2.| ✮𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮, 𝓑𝓲𝓵𝓵. ✮ {𝓑. 𝓦𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂}

𝒻ℴ𝓊𝓇

"Yeah." Eleanora trailed her fingers distractedly through her hair. "Actually- no. I think- I think I'm going to take the day off. Do some- some visiting."

Bill nodded. "Want me to come?"

"Why don't you spend the day with Georgia? I think she'd like that." She gave Bill the closest thing to a smile she could manage, then leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. "I'll be okay, I just need a day."

"No problem, love. Let me know if you need anything."

Bill watched as Eleanora crossed the room to grab a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and pull them on, covering them with a set of black robes. "Tell Georgie I'm out for the day," she called over her shoulder on her way out the door, "Love you."

Eleanora grabbed a bagel and a coffee from her favorite cafe in Diagon Alley before apparating to the cemetery where Fred was buried. She could find the grave with her eyes closed, she'd gone there so many times over the years. For a long time after his death, Eleanora couldn't bring herself to visit the grave. When she did, she'd be completely out of it for days after, unable to eat or get out of bed. Gradually, she managed to handle visiting the plot more and more. Now, she visited at least once a week.

Every time Eleanora visited Fred's grave, she was struck by how many flowers and trinkets were littered around it from the many people who had loved and cared about Fred. Even nineteen years after his death, people still cared enough to visit and decorate his grave. She knelt down in front of it and laid down the little box of Filibuster Fireworks she'd slipped in her pocket before leaving. She liked all of the flowers everywhere, but she knew Fred would've appreciated joke shop items more. Then, she sat cross legged on the grass, the warm summer breeze blowing her hair in all directions as the gray clouds rolled over her. "Hey, Freddie," she whispered, running her fingers through the grass. Sometimes, when she sat by Fred's grave, she could talk for hours to the air. She didn't know if she really believed Fred could hear her, but it felt nice to sort out her thoughts to herself or whatever ghosts may be listening in.

Today, though, Eleanora didn't say much of anything. She wasn't unhappy with her life or anything, she just wished Fred was there to see it. If the ghost of him really was around to listen, he would already know everything anyways. She couldn't stop thinking about the nightmare she'd had the night before. It hadn't been the usual image of Fred's body lying with all of the others after the battle of Hogwarts. It had been a different, younger, and much more alive version of Fred, either in his fifth or sixth year of school. She couldn't place exactly where or when the dream had taken place, but she couldn't get his smile out of her head. She'd never told anyone, but it was the way she told Fred and George apart. Fred had a little gap between his front teeth and when he was truly happy, the left corner of his mouth went up further than the right. It was that picture that Eleanora couldn't stop thinking about. Simple things like that were what made her long unbearably for her best friend, the boy she'd told everything to for almost fifteen years.

Nearly an hour later, Eleanora forced herself to stand up and leave the graveyard. She felt slightly better, but she knew the empty feeling she got whenever she thought about Fred would never leave. She thought about how she and Fred had planned out their future a few weeks after she and Bill got together. They'd been so young, it had all been wishful thinking at the time. She was going to marry Bill, and he would marry Hermione. They would each have one kid and live in houses right next door to each other- of course, George would live right by their side with Angelina. They'd planned on getting jobs and spending their evenings having dinner together and acting like regular married couples who were friends. Eleanora felt a burning feeling in her chest when she thought about it now.

The next place she went was Moody's memorial. They'd never been able to find his body, but after the war, the Ministry had put up a memorial in his honor. She stood in front of it, staring hard at the letters engraved in the stone. "Alastor Moody." She'd never called him Alastor in her life. She'd never heard anyone call him Alastor, but she liked the name. She always thought that if Georgia had been a boy, she'd have named him Alastor. Either that or Remus. She bit down hard on her lower lip as she stared at the memorial, and then turned on the spot and apparated again.