oo6.

[feorge]

[ 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!]

Comments

action; thank you for bearing with me ._. i feel horrible lmao

[knowledgeably.livejournal.com]

[ Hermione recognizes that instead of a clear presentation of emotions, there is a distinct lack... Which is just as alarming, in her opinion. She understand his loss much deeper than she thinks he realizes, simply because she understood Ron's loss of him from a different perspective, as well as her own loss of him. He was more than simply Ron's brother to her. He was also a friend.

She'd also tried to deny it. To herself, to anyone else... She doesn't want to think Ron's really gone. But in her gut, in her heart, she feels the absence profoundly. More importantly, she feels the effect of his very real absence on the people around her, for whom she cares deeply.

It's the tenderness and swelling in his knuckles that she can feel first, and she is immediately worried. It gives her a moment's pause, but she'll make with healing it as soon as they've talked. The emotional aspect, at least in her opinion, is far more important at the present time. Despite his reciprocation of comfort, she transfers her ministrations, lifting her hand from his and placing her arm loosely around him, her palm tenderly making small circles at the center of his back.

She makes a physically insistent motion for him to rest on her, speaking softly and gently as she's able. ]

Come here... [ She really is barely murmuring, but her hand moves again, to his hair, brushing it back and smoothing over it in a motion she can only assume is comforting for him. ] Rest. I won't leave.

action; lmao it's okay, baby. <3

[feorge]

[On any other day, this would've been where Fred shuts down. Where he simply turns off any sort of emotion and relies on that ever familiar humour defense mechanism that has seldom failed him thus far. He's never been one for physical contact, but he so rarely gets even this close to anyone these days, even George. It's odd, how being dead makes him overly self conscious of the fact that he's colder than he should be, that he breathes only out of habit than necessity, but above all else, that pesky little fact that his heart is no longer beating.

Strange, how the thing feels heavier when he no longer needs it.

But that's the problem in the first place, isn't it? His death and the distance created because of it. That impossibly large chasm between him and everything he's known all his life - his friends, his family, his home. And they do so much to try and hide from it, to cover it up with playful banter and blatant denial, but it's always there all the same. At the end of the day, they still have to face that space in their lives where Fred Weasley used to be - but isn't.

He's just so bloody tired.

Though he's never really been comforted by anyone while upset like this besides his Mum (before he decided touching him when he's upset is signing a death wish), the light, comforting brushes and circles feel nice, if he'll admit it. Which he probably won't, in the way he laughs something dry again and shakes his head.]

Rather think I've outgrown being coddled, love.

[Which may seem as though he's outright saying no, but the way Fred is, it would've been a lot more sardonic and almost vicious. No, this is rather a declaration, possibly even a warning, before he pulls away from her and shifts along the bed. He doesn't bother with taking off his shoes or pulling out the bed sheets, simply sprawls out along it on his side and beckons her over with a tug. It's petulant, almost childlike, the way he won't voice it beyond what he's already said and the weakened look in his eyes, but it's very much a day when words have consistently failed him in light of losing something he wanted so dearly - and now that he wants this, he hasn't a clue what to say. Perhaps it simply doesn't need saying.

'Help.']

action; /gets better X(

[knowledgeably.livejournal.com]

Most people do, by much younger ages than our own. But no person ever outgrows comfort.

[ She says this very matter-of-factly, not really letting the way he deflects with dry sarcasm get in her way. No this time. She needs this just as much as she can tell he does. And she wants to provide it for him. She wants to help him, protect him, take care of him, just for these moments wherein she is able to. But she doesn't press, doesn't make any further advances toward forcing him to rest if he doesn't wish it. Perhaps just being there is enough.

Or, then, he could not be near her at all. She shifts also, a little awkwardly as she has yet to decipher what it is he's doing. Maybe he would rather not have her there after all.

Or he could surprise her.

Hermione turns and furrows her brow slightly, bit of a confused look on her face for a moment before she realizes that he's asking her, however silently, to lay with him. She worries not about the trivial things, just as he didn't, and turns toward him as she settles herself horizontally. She lays facing him, scooted rather close but not enough to be uncomfortable, and lifts a hand to brush her fingers through his hair, and along his cheek.

She makes a motion forward, making a slow and tentative advance, then presses her lips to his forehead before drawing back and simply looking at him. Her expression says it all. The pain, the sorrow... But more importantly, the understanding. The mutually needed solace.

'It's alright. It's safe here. You're safe.'

And ever as silently as his plea, she answers. ]