[Lost in his incomprehensible clutter of thoughts, Fred barely registers when Ginny comes up beside him. He's got too much to dwell on, too much to sort through, but then she's there, and it's really her. Not an illusion of his sister or some unknown entity claiming her name, but Ginny and that look in her eyes is damn near heart breaking. He wants to look away, to shut his eyes from that hand, her words, the ever nearing emotional wall that they are so loathe to touch, to even acknowledge - but then she's hugging him again, and it's not the same as in the fountain or just before coming here. It's different. Awkward and one sided, yet so much more powerful and then her words hit home and it's a good thing she's holding him because he otherwise would've been floored.
She knows.
She knows, has known this whole time and dammit, that changes everything. There are the physical clues, sure, but he doesn't need to be told that isn't all there is behind such a simple sentiment. Someone's gone and told her that he gets offed, blown away in a fairly literal sense, and she's had to carry that knowledge with her this entire time. He can't decide which is worse: having to cope with the sudden death of your sibling or having said dead sibling drop into your lap for an unknown amount of time? What could be going through the mind of this older-yet-still-too-young girl as she clings to him, hiding her face almost as though hiding from this unspoken acknowledgment? Fred doesn't like it, any of it - and he closes his eyes for just a moment to think.
Hadn't he said the same thing to Claire? That having Ginny with him is Heaven enough for him? This time together is borrowed time, time the "deities" have given them, isn't that all that matters now? He can't think on the fact that she'll enjoy his lovely presence for who knows how long, only to one day go home and lose him all over again - likely for good. He has to focus on the arms around him, the warmth from the young woman that is and always will be his sister, holding him together when he'd much like to fall apart. This is all that's important. With a bit of awkward difficulty, he pulls one arm free to wrap around her and - very rare, such pure unabated affection - kisses her forehead.
'Don't feel guilty. Don't be sad. We're fine. We're together.']
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
She knows.
She knows, has known this whole time and dammit, that changes everything. There are the physical clues, sure, but he doesn't need to be told that isn't all there is behind such a simple sentiment. Someone's gone and told her that he gets offed, blown away in a fairly literal sense, and she's had to carry that knowledge with her this entire time. He can't decide which is worse: having to cope with the sudden death of your sibling or having said dead sibling drop into your lap for an unknown amount of time? What could be going through the mind of this older-yet-still-too-young girl as she clings to him, hiding her face almost as though hiding from this unspoken acknowledgment? Fred doesn't like it, any of it - and he closes his eyes for just a moment to think.
Hadn't he said the same thing to Claire? That having Ginny with him is Heaven enough for him? This time together is borrowed time, time the "deities" have given them, isn't that all that matters now? He can't think on the fact that she'll enjoy his lovely presence for who knows how long, only to one day go home and lose him all over again - likely for good. He has to focus on the arms around him, the warmth from the young woman that is and always will be his sister, holding him together when he'd much like to fall apart. This is all that's important. With a bit of awkward difficulty, he pulls one arm free to wrap around her and - very rare, such pure unabated affection - kisses her forehead.
'Don't feel guilty. Don't be sad. We're fine. We're together.']
You'll be sick of me soon enough.