feorge | 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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[There's a long, tight pause, and then she presses on firmly but with less of an edge.]

Don't say that. Family's family and he's—we're—yours, so stop being a prat.

Wouldn't be so much of a prat if you weren't my family.

[That much goes without saying. Which may be why he just...quiets. Tries to breathe even and swallows hard. This sucks.]

I know.

[There's a another pause, and then she adds in a softer voice,]

He might come back. Give it a few days before you start setting off fireworks in his room.

[He stays quiet another moment.]

A few days. 's all the prat gets.

Fair enough.

[Merlin, she was really hoping they wouldn't ever have to experience this. Fred, most of all. Because this is the only time he gets with family and friends now.]

Should I bother trying to give you the whole "it gets better" speech, then, or would you rather I just leave it alone?

Leave it at that, or it'll be your room next.

[A beat, and then he adds quietly, sincerely - without its usual jest or request for groceries or a dinner or any of his banter and cheek. Just simple, honest, even if his voice sounds oddly strained.]

Think you can spare a day or two out here?

[She answers immediately, with aching gentleness,]

Of course I can. [The Weasley homing instinct is strong, and in lieu of The Burrow, they have the cabin.] What d'you think I've been doing this whole time, staring at the ceiling? I'm packing an overnight bag.

[There's a slight smile in his voice - relief, gratitude, but he plays it off as teasing even if it's half-hearted.]

You know how I loathe to put you out of your way.

But you do it anyway, I know.

[Family's family.]

What else can I expect from my older brothers, hm?

Not much, I'm afraid. Can't say I've done my job otherwise.

You do it splendidly, Freddikins.

[If Fred's heart could still beat, it'd probably stop right about there. That's not something to worry about - whether you've fulfilled your role as a brother - but nothing's really the same when you're dead, is it? No, everything's quite different, indeed, and what little composure Fred might've had left is done away with. Bravo, Ginny. It takes him a moment to respond, and even then, he has to cough to clear his throat first.]

Careful, now. Keep at it like that and you'll have us thinking you don't absolutely abhor us.

[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.]

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)

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.

oo6.

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

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