Post by Izzy Longbottom on Aug 7, 2008 19:46:09 GMT -5
((i wrote this fic a little while ago, but i thought i may as well post it here~ it's just a little oneshot about two of my favorite characters.))
He couldn’t believe it happened. The vision of it went through his mind time and time again as he sat there on his rickety old bed, his hands over his face. His motionless body lay there on the ground. Fred would never again laugh, call him pompous, or anything of the other things he knew the boy loved to do so much. It was selfish of him to think he would miss Fred the most. He most certainly wouldn’t…there was his mother to think of, and of course George. But then again...he was there for it. He’d held onto Fred’s limp and cold body, silently cursing whatever power was up beyond the clouds, and wishing and hoping that this was all just a cruel joke. But the smile on Fred’s blue lips, unwavering, proved otherwise. His brother was dead. His brother was dead.
His curly hair was still messed up from the battle, even if that battle was nearly three days ago. The wizarding world was in uproar, celebrating the death of Voldemort. Even his own family was downstairs right at this moment with the Lovegoods, Hermione, and of course, Harry Potter. He ran his hand through the rough, orange curls. He had not moved from this room since he came in from Hogwarts, and he did not intend to until he stopped seeing Fred’s dead eyes. They haunted his sleep, and even when he was awake, Fred was all he could think of. He seemed invincible…like nothing on this earth could really harm him, as long as he kept smiling. And he did, until that last moment when the final breath exited his body. He shook slightly as he recalled the lifeless, yet somehow hopefully blue eyes that stared up at him, unmoving. Percy Weasley could not forget them whatsoever.
The one light made the dust-covered room look awfully dim. His mother kept it just as he had left it; notes were scattered around his writing desk, and a potions textbook completed the studious look. His walls were full of magazine clippings of Cornelius Fudge when he was Minister, as well as a few more important figures of government, all walking around with a purpose. His bottom bunk was neatly done still, though the top bunk (which was Charlie’s) still had posters of Quidditch teams around it, which Charlie had failed to remove when he moved out. The room still shook with uncertainty as to whether or not it would stay up, but for some reason, Percy always trusted the magic that held this overgrown pigpen up. In the corner was a broom used only once, and in his closet, a few pairs of robes that were not handed down to Fred, George, or Ron for their use.
He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses as he sat there, and then he heard something odd. Very soft steps could be heard making their way up the way. Percy didn’t recognize these steps. They weren’t the quick, thundering steps of his siblings, nor were they the dull thuds of his parents’ steps. He glanced to the door when it opened, only to meet a pair of blue eyes similar to his. A polite smile graced his thin lips, and he nodded slowly to the young woman before him. He saw an old friend creep into his room curiously, giving him the option to kick her back out again. “Hello, Luna,” Percy said, his voice hoarse from the crying and the fact that he spoken a word since that night.
“Hello, Percy,” Luna replied, in that light wispy voice she often had. She smiled despite the melancholy state this room was in. As she walked in, she seemed to add more light to the room. Percy wasn’t entirely sure if it was the candle bouncing off of her pale skin, or the fact that she was usually just a bright person. He decided then that it didn’t matter. He watched as she inched closer in her purple skirt and red jumper, two colors that would normally clash with anything else, but for some reason seemed natural to her. “I was wondering, if you wanted, perhaps, to come downstairs. Mrs. Weasley has put up the food, but there is a good helping of pudding to go around,” She said before she sat down on his bed. This meant she knew there was no chance of him wanting to come down at all. When he shook his head, she nodded, and then she smiled. “You’re taking this quite hard, aren’t you?” She asked him, and she cocked her head to the side, the smile still on her lips.
Percy nodded, and he let out a laborious sigh. He shifted slightly when she sat, his movements slow. He ached all over, though he wasn’t sure why. “Yes, I am,” He said stiffly, and then he looked back down to Luna through his glasses. Tears gathered in his eyes and for once, he was not ashamed of them. He found that with Luna, he didn’t have to be ashamed. He felt completely and utterly comfortable with her sitting there, and his crying. He barely felt her hand sit on his; he barely felt anything anymore. The only thing that was in his mind was Fred’s eyes. “I really am,” He repeated, his voice shaky, and he looked down at her. “He was never really kind to me, but I still loved him. And…and I know he still loved me,” Percy said gently.
Luna nodded understandingly, and she squeezed his hand. “I know what you mean. Fred was…well, he was never really nice to anyone,” She said, and Percy chuckled, agreeing. “But he had a way of really making people smile, even if what he did sometimes was downright cruel. He never really allowed for a negative environment.” She smiled up to him. “You should have been there when they left the school. It was phenomenal. Fireworks were everywhere, and there they were on their broomsticks. What they said--.”
“’Give her hell for us, Peeves’. I remember the letter from Umbridge.” Percy looked down to his lap. He began to remember what he did to his family. His flesh and blood…he chose the Ministry over them, over Fred? Percy grimaced at his glaring mistake, and he felt his heart become heavier in the same way the lump in his throat grew larger. He glanced to Luna, and he saw that she was crying as well. There was nothing more pathetically sad than Luna Lovegood crying, Percy decided. “Ooh, Luna, don’t cry,” He said awkwardly, and he wiped a tear from her cheek that had just fallen. She smiled in spite of the tears that were now dripping from her watery eyes.
“It’s quite alright,” Luna said. “My tears are no hindrance to my strength,” She said wisely and softly. Her eyes cut up to him. “Nor are yours to your strength, Percy.” She looked forward, and she gulped slightly. “You’ll find that death isn’t really all that final. You’ll see Fred again, you know, just like I’ll see my mum again. After all…this isn’t it.” Luna concentrated as she said this, her eyes facing forward with such intensity. “And, as long as you remember him, he’ll never truly be gone. You won’t be able to hug him (as if you would anyway), but…but, he’ll always live within you. And me, and George, and Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, and…well, anyone that will have him living in them. As long as a memory lingers, so does the being,” She said, and she finally turned back up to him, nodding very slowly. “Do you know what I mean, Percy?”
Percy nodded. He knew precisely what Luna meant. “I do,” He mumbled, and he squeezed her hand in return. “Thank you, Luna. You don’t know what this means to me,” He said to her, and then he looked down to her. “Well…you may,” He said with a small smile, and he watched as she rose up, heading over to the door. “Hey, Luna,” Percy said to her, and she turned around, her eyes wide with attentiveness in them. “What exactly did mum make for pudding?”
Luna smiled. “A very nice cake,” She said simply, and she turned back around. Her hair whipped as she did so, and she began to skip down the stairs. Percy smiled at where she stood before she rose and followed her. After all, you couldn’t deny Molly Weasley’s cake.
He couldn’t believe it happened. The vision of it went through his mind time and time again as he sat there on his rickety old bed, his hands over his face. His motionless body lay there on the ground. Fred would never again laugh, call him pompous, or anything of the other things he knew the boy loved to do so much. It was selfish of him to think he would miss Fred the most. He most certainly wouldn’t…there was his mother to think of, and of course George. But then again...he was there for it. He’d held onto Fred’s limp and cold body, silently cursing whatever power was up beyond the clouds, and wishing and hoping that this was all just a cruel joke. But the smile on Fred’s blue lips, unwavering, proved otherwise. His brother was dead. His brother was dead.
His curly hair was still messed up from the battle, even if that battle was nearly three days ago. The wizarding world was in uproar, celebrating the death of Voldemort. Even his own family was downstairs right at this moment with the Lovegoods, Hermione, and of course, Harry Potter. He ran his hand through the rough, orange curls. He had not moved from this room since he came in from Hogwarts, and he did not intend to until he stopped seeing Fred’s dead eyes. They haunted his sleep, and even when he was awake, Fred was all he could think of. He seemed invincible…like nothing on this earth could really harm him, as long as he kept smiling. And he did, until that last moment when the final breath exited his body. He shook slightly as he recalled the lifeless, yet somehow hopefully blue eyes that stared up at him, unmoving. Percy Weasley could not forget them whatsoever.
The one light made the dust-covered room look awfully dim. His mother kept it just as he had left it; notes were scattered around his writing desk, and a potions textbook completed the studious look. His walls were full of magazine clippings of Cornelius Fudge when he was Minister, as well as a few more important figures of government, all walking around with a purpose. His bottom bunk was neatly done still, though the top bunk (which was Charlie’s) still had posters of Quidditch teams around it, which Charlie had failed to remove when he moved out. The room still shook with uncertainty as to whether or not it would stay up, but for some reason, Percy always trusted the magic that held this overgrown pigpen up. In the corner was a broom used only once, and in his closet, a few pairs of robes that were not handed down to Fred, George, or Ron for their use.
He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses as he sat there, and then he heard something odd. Very soft steps could be heard making their way up the way. Percy didn’t recognize these steps. They weren’t the quick, thundering steps of his siblings, nor were they the dull thuds of his parents’ steps. He glanced to the door when it opened, only to meet a pair of blue eyes similar to his. A polite smile graced his thin lips, and he nodded slowly to the young woman before him. He saw an old friend creep into his room curiously, giving him the option to kick her back out again. “Hello, Luna,” Percy said, his voice hoarse from the crying and the fact that he spoken a word since that night.
“Hello, Percy,” Luna replied, in that light wispy voice she often had. She smiled despite the melancholy state this room was in. As she walked in, she seemed to add more light to the room. Percy wasn’t entirely sure if it was the candle bouncing off of her pale skin, or the fact that she was usually just a bright person. He decided then that it didn’t matter. He watched as she inched closer in her purple skirt and red jumper, two colors that would normally clash with anything else, but for some reason seemed natural to her. “I was wondering, if you wanted, perhaps, to come downstairs. Mrs. Weasley has put up the food, but there is a good helping of pudding to go around,” She said before she sat down on his bed. This meant she knew there was no chance of him wanting to come down at all. When he shook his head, she nodded, and then she smiled. “You’re taking this quite hard, aren’t you?” She asked him, and she cocked her head to the side, the smile still on her lips.
Percy nodded, and he let out a laborious sigh. He shifted slightly when she sat, his movements slow. He ached all over, though he wasn’t sure why. “Yes, I am,” He said stiffly, and then he looked back down to Luna through his glasses. Tears gathered in his eyes and for once, he was not ashamed of them. He found that with Luna, he didn’t have to be ashamed. He felt completely and utterly comfortable with her sitting there, and his crying. He barely felt her hand sit on his; he barely felt anything anymore. The only thing that was in his mind was Fred’s eyes. “I really am,” He repeated, his voice shaky, and he looked down at her. “He was never really kind to me, but I still loved him. And…and I know he still loved me,” Percy said gently.
Luna nodded understandingly, and she squeezed his hand. “I know what you mean. Fred was…well, he was never really nice to anyone,” She said, and Percy chuckled, agreeing. “But he had a way of really making people smile, even if what he did sometimes was downright cruel. He never really allowed for a negative environment.” She smiled up to him. “You should have been there when they left the school. It was phenomenal. Fireworks were everywhere, and there they were on their broomsticks. What they said--.”
“’Give her hell for us, Peeves’. I remember the letter from Umbridge.” Percy looked down to his lap. He began to remember what he did to his family. His flesh and blood…he chose the Ministry over them, over Fred? Percy grimaced at his glaring mistake, and he felt his heart become heavier in the same way the lump in his throat grew larger. He glanced to Luna, and he saw that she was crying as well. There was nothing more pathetically sad than Luna Lovegood crying, Percy decided. “Ooh, Luna, don’t cry,” He said awkwardly, and he wiped a tear from her cheek that had just fallen. She smiled in spite of the tears that were now dripping from her watery eyes.
“It’s quite alright,” Luna said. “My tears are no hindrance to my strength,” She said wisely and softly. Her eyes cut up to him. “Nor are yours to your strength, Percy.” She looked forward, and she gulped slightly. “You’ll find that death isn’t really all that final. You’ll see Fred again, you know, just like I’ll see my mum again. After all…this isn’t it.” Luna concentrated as she said this, her eyes facing forward with such intensity. “And, as long as you remember him, he’ll never truly be gone. You won’t be able to hug him (as if you would anyway), but…but, he’ll always live within you. And me, and George, and Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, and…well, anyone that will have him living in them. As long as a memory lingers, so does the being,” She said, and she finally turned back up to him, nodding very slowly. “Do you know what I mean, Percy?”
Percy nodded. He knew precisely what Luna meant. “I do,” He mumbled, and he squeezed her hand in return. “Thank you, Luna. You don’t know what this means to me,” He said to her, and then he looked down to her. “Well…you may,” He said with a small smile, and he watched as she rose up, heading over to the door. “Hey, Luna,” Percy said to her, and she turned around, her eyes wide with attentiveness in them. “What exactly did mum make for pudding?”
Luna smiled. “A very nice cake,” She said simply, and she turned back around. Her hair whipped as she did so, and she began to skip down the stairs. Percy smiled at where she stood before she rose and followed her. After all, you couldn’t deny Molly Weasley’s cake.
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