feorge | oo6.

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oo6.

[ accidental video ]

[An absolute silence hangs between the twins as they stare at a picture frame hanging on the wall. Some might recognize the photo within it, others still might recognize the Hall it's posted in. And even if they don't, Fred and George can hardly spare a moment to care, because that silence has a rather tight grasp on them, forcing them to recognize them both for what it is.

Ronald Weasley has left the City.

Fred looks over to George, a look of discontent (and perhaps even anger) clear on his face, before looking back over to the frame.]

So that's it, then? Gone without so much as a sound, just a photograph in some dreadful hallway?

You tell me. You've the one who's been here longer.

[George runs a hand over his face. Without even thinking about it, his hand reaches out and grips firmly onto Fred's shoulder.]

He'd barely even got here.

[Fred visibly tenses at the hand on his shoulder, much as it should be a comfort, and he looks up to the ceiling for a moment before shaking his head.]

Unbelievable tosspot.

[His voice does not sound strained there, thank you very much, and there is nothing even close to a deep, shaky exhale to follow before he shrugs George's hand from his shoulder and turns to leave.]

We ought to go muck up his room. Test out those new fireworks.

[George crosses his arms and fixes Fred with a hard stare.]

Don't be a prat, Fred. That's the last thing everyone needs right now.

The last thing everyone needs right now--!

[In the process of shouting, and Fred only stops to notice the device is recording them. A low string of swear words can be heard as he walks up to it and his hand covers the feed for the briefest of moments before everything starts spinning and the feed ends with a crash!]

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Now where's the fun in that?

[He scoffs, shaking his head.]

[...Bugger. He'd rather not have let Luca see him like this. He's angry and upset and the last thing he wants is to turn it against him. Keep your anger in check, Fred.]

'ello, munchkin.

'Ello. What's wrong?

I dunno, I think you're doing a good job of showing it.

[And maybe it's harder because this is Fred, because talking to him and joking with him every day while knowing - an explosion, blood and pain and darkness and above all the sound of Percy's scream, and it was all, all over - is hard enough, rips in a little deeper every time. Here it is, the reminder that even this won't last forever, that the scales balancing living and dead can only last so long like this before starting to correct itself. Not everyone gets a miracle of magic to bring them back (not everyone gets an hour or months to resign to the end)]

There aren't any real healers in this place, mate. Look, we can go blow up some trees when we get home. Just... don't do that to yourself.

What sort of thing?

And I'm his twin.

[They take care of each other. How it's always worked, little sister.]

Just the usual, nothing you ought to worry your ickle head about.

But if somethin's botherin' you...

Can think of a fair few others ways to show it, if you'd like. We can get creative.

[Read as: he'll hex you into next Thursday if you really want to have a go. Because clearly lashing out at his only remaining younger brother makes perfect sense. It feels like it's all he's good at these days, because everything else has become so bloody difficult. He's never been good with emotions, with dealing and coping or any of that rubbish, but here, it's so much harder. He doesn't know how to tell them all that he's downright miserable, or that he misses Ron, that he fears they'll all leave him, that this time with him will be forgotten. That he'll be forgotten.

It's so much easier to ask for row. To punch walls and throw things and spit half-hearted threats at the man that least deserves them. Fred doesn't know how to do much else.]

[Ever the voice of reason. Fred runs a shaky hand through his hair and exhales softly.]

Right. Sure.

[A beat, and he shakes his head again.]

Sorry.

's alright, mate.

I don't blame you for wanting to.

[God knows he's probably done worse things to himself back home.]

[She hadn't meant anything but the honest truth by it. Being here, away from family for so long—a girl learns that shying away from saying things like that because they're silly or sentimental... that's a waste of time. And Fred coming here, lost to her in the future, why shouldn't she take advantage of the extra time? Why shouldn't she say exactly what she means for once? There are only so many hours in a day. Or years in a lifetime, some too much shorter than others.

Quietly, gently teasing,]

And we wouldn't want that, would we?

[Love you too, you fantastic git.]

Well, I wanted to see what you could do with pie and less ordinary fruits. So, I'm working on starfruit pie right now.

Then it ought to be done away with, aye?

[That's not what he meant, not really. There are a million and a half things he's got to apologise for, and his hand's the least important of them all. But he can't. Not now. Not ever, probably. So he nods his head, keeping his eyes lowered.]

You'll wait here for Harry?

[It's not that it isn't tempting to rise to the bait, because it is, and Harry reads the subtext as plainly as if Fred had outright said it. It'd be satisfying, wouldn't it, to at least talk of having a go at each other like that, work off anger and sadness in that way without ever having to lift a wand. But this is Fred, this is Fred, and Ron is his brother, and - Harry reins in his temper and levels his voice this time, speaks quietly, remembers that Fred is in a building for remembrance in front of a picture of his youngest brother.

(When he tries to think of what to say, he thinks of Luna in the minutes after, coaxing patronuses out of them and reminding them to keep fighting.)]

We're still here, you know - the rest of us.

[And you, he doesn't say, you are too.]

'course. Where're off to?

Sounds complex.

Just imagine the horrors that'd spell.

[Snogging and coddling and doting in all the ways Fred's always been because there are so few things in this world more precious than his younger siblings. Like everything else about the man, it's an unconventional love, sometimes bordering on the awful, but it's love. It's Fred's love, and Merlin does he love them.

Which was fine while he was alive, because he was there for it, but now that he's not? Now that he's dead and gone and all that's left are memories and things unsaid? He wonders. He worries and he fears, that somewhere deep down, in those places no one ever speaks of - that maybe Fred has failed them. Maybe those memories are unpleasant ones and those things unsaid left a bitter taste in the mouth, leaving only an unspoken hatred. All confidence and nonchalance but Fred's fears are boundless.

And then there's Ginny. Ever the loving baby sister, and she washes all of that away with a bit of cheek and a smile. Ron's gone, and Fred loathed the idea that his last moments with him are teasing about his dance with Hermione at Bill's wedding, but that's his love, right? And Ginny's said that's okay, that's enough and that's right. Those things unsaid - how much he adores the git, how worried he's always been and how proud he is - they don't need said, right? 'cause he's got to know. He's got to have seen it in every tease, every grin, every time he's barged into his room just to flop on his bed in the thick of things to annoy him. Ron has to know, and if he doesn't?

Well, the next time he comes 'round (not if because he will, because he has to), Fred'll be holding on and he won't be letting go. In the meanwhile, maybe it's a good thing he has no need to breathe, because the hug Ginny'll be receiving upon her arrival will be a monstrous one with a bit of unnecessary squeezing. Because that's just how he shows his love.]

Edited 2011-11-09 01:28 (UTC)

I know. It's—

[Oh, George.]

I'm just letting you know. Both of you. None of this stupid, tough older brother act. Not around me, not with this.

I've never tried it before, I thought it'd be fun to give it a shot...you know? Experiment!

Absolutely unspeakable ones, that's what.

[Ron must know, just as Ginny knows. Just as they all inherently know. The Weasleys might not have much in the way of fancy things or gold, but they have each other and they love deeply and wholeheartedly. That's better than a mountain of Galleons in Gringotts. And in a world—in worlds—where people you care for can be snatched away in an instant, being together and taking care of each other are the most important things. That's why Ginny began to throw a few things into a rucksack the instant she saw the video, that's why she's trying to compose herself here and now before returning to the cabin and putting on that brave front for the rest of them. Because this is how it always goes, isn't it? This is a familiar, expected pain, losing someone and being left with a portrait and an empty room.

(She still remembers that cold, lonely, silent day in November two years ago, facing a wall filled with every single person from home and no one at her side to mourn their loss with her.)

Being used to it doesn't make it any easier. If anything, being used to it makes it worse, makes it seem like you've accepted the circumstances, stopped fighting, begun to settle and call this world home. No. It can come close, but it will never be home. But the cabin, filled with family and friends—that is home, more than the City as a whole.]

I'll be there soon, Fred. Don't set his room on fire.

Yeah, well.

['Won't catch me thanking anyone for your horrid mugs,' but that's not true at all, is it? Teasing is one thing, but he doesn't have the heart for it right now. Doesn't even really have a heart at all, just a useless, beatless pound of flesh sitting in his chest, and that's the problem, right there. Not moving but it still hurts, and how could he ever dare to betray it?

A rare moment of honesty, and Fred quiets a beat.]

You can't promise you'll be here tomorrow. Or even by the time we get back.

Can't stay here. This place is dead depressing.

[He can't stand to look at Ron's portrait any longer. It's driving him mad.]

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oo6.

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no never /clings and does not let go

/holds to bosom

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.../ m o t o r b o a t s ?

oh my

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(evil_grin)

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voice; as if phone tagging wasnt hard enough without half a missing screen...

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voice; i am forever impressed with your phone tags ;A;

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