[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.
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branchandroot
voice; i am forever impressed with your phone tags ;A;
Date: 2011-11-09 06:21 pm (UTC)[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.