Daniewho? What? Where? Why? When?

Title: Loss
Rating: PG-13 (?)
Disclaimer: Characters and places belong to JKR, not me obviously, I'm just borrowing.
Warning: Angsty, character death....

It was a weird feeling, grief. To feel so much and yet feel so empty. She had never felt so disjointed, never so disconnected, before. There would be pain, she knew, hidden somewhere beneath the mountain of disbelief and bewilderment. It was buried with the anger, waiting for her to process it all, waiting for the floodgates to open. And they would come crashing open, she did not doubt it for a second, nor did she doubt that the pain would be overwhelmingly wrenching. Every thing she had ever felt with Fred, for Fred, had been intense and she expected no less for her grief. How could it not be strong, when he was gone - forever? Oh, she knew she would see his face again, it was, after all, one his brother shared, but the mannerisms, the expressions, the essence behind them would never be him.

He would not be anything ever again.

Angelina bent over, clutching at her stomach as she felt the barricade behind which all the pain raged crack slightly as thoughts of all she would never see again, never hear again began to consume her. She would never hear his laugh again or hear his jokes… She would never feel the touch of his hand on her or the warmth of his whispers against her cheek. She would never, not ever again, share special stolen moments with him, moments with just the two of them, no family, and no school friends, just them, just the two of them. There would be no more moments. Not with him. He had left her, left her all alone with this giant mess of numbness and pain.

Even as all these thoughts rampaged through her, she realised, somewhat sickeningly, that they had all been about her and what she had lost. Not one thought or consideration had actually been for or about Fred, about what had happened to him, about where he was now. They had all been for her, about her. Feelings of shame swamped her, washing away all others as she kept picturing over and over again, the sight of Fred’s lifeless body. Never before had he been so unanimated, never before had he seemed so pale.

Never before and never again…would he be anything.

The pain and pressure in her chest was crippling as she gasped for air. Today he was to be buried. Today she would have to say goodbye and she had absolutely no idea how she could. It was too soon, merely two days after the battle and already preparations were being made.

She was not ready. She would never be ready. She could not even properly comprehend exactly what Fred being gone meant and they expected her to stand near his coffin and say a final farewell?

She could not do it. She would not do it. Angelina ran a shaking hand through her thick black braids as she cursed Fred. Fred who said he would love her always. Fred who said they would be together forever. Fred who said he would never leave her. Tears ran uncontrollably down her cheeks as she continued to curse him. How could he love her always when he was no longer here? How could they be together forever when his forever had come and gone?

How could he leave her when he had promised he would never?

How could he die when he had seemed so invincible? So much larger than life?

How could he leave her here all alone?

How could she say goodbye when he had not?

Title: She Didn't Know
Rating: PG-13 (?) I have no idea about ratings
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money earned, just playing with them






I shouldn’t have come. I’ve told myself thousands of times that it was border line inappropriate: the over-exercised cliché of the old love flame showing up at the wedding and making an embarrassment of herself, but I just couldn’t help myself. I had to see, had to torture myself with the vision of him all dressed up in a tux, smiling gleefully down at the radiant face that was going to wake up to him every morning for the rest of his life. Seeing the perfect dress on the body that would feel his touch, bear his children, grow old with him.

We’ve been over for years, not that we had really ever been together. Not in the true sense of the word. No, he had always belonged to the one who would stand beside him today, the one he was marrying, the one who had always been there, not lurking in the background, but standing in the foreground, there for everyone, anyone who but had a care, to see. Anyone but me, that is.

I have no idea why I continue to do this to myself. Why I torment myself with glimpses of the perfect couple, watching them hold hands, kiss when people aren’t looking – sometimes even when they are. His hands don’t grope her but glide over her, his mouth doesn’t look like it’s eating her face, but rather nuzzling hers, savouring any contact that was made. Every action perfect, elegant and graceful as if a carefully synchronised – yet natural – dance. He wasn’t this way with me. I should have known then.

It had never been me, and it would never be me. There had only been one woman for him and it certainly had not been me. It’s a hard pill to swallow, finally figuring out that I had just been something to pass the time, somebody to practice on. Oh, I know that the blame cannot be put solely on his shoulders, I had been only too happy to hide my head in the sand about the real reason he had been with me. Merlin, he probably had not even realised what he had been doing. How could I expect him to when I had not? Oh, I had had niggling thoughts and suspicions, but I, like all of my friends, had merely thought that I was being overly jealous. I never before fully understood what those two meant to each other, what they still mean to each other, but there had been one who had, one who could have saved me all that heartache if he had only spoken up, spoken out. Spoken at all. But he had kept silent, preferring to keep out of it, preferring to let his friend learn from his mistake. I had been a mistake, a poor man’s substitute for the one he thought he could not have.

And so I was left with the ashes of a false relationship, a love that was a mirage – a farce compared to what he truly shared with his bride.

I was left with nothing.

Title: Pride & Percy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I wish they were mine and I'm just playing with them and no money was earned.




The sunshine was gone, dark thunderous clouds ruled the sky and they were only getting darker, heavier. Percy was very much afraid that his shoulders would not be able to bear the weight of the pall descending over the wizarding world much longer. He was deathly afraid that the clouds would remain, that the sky would stay this gloomy, this oppressive, forever. He never had been that fond of darkness – literally and figuratively – it was as if the gods were mocking him, forcing him to face his fears now. It was no more that what he deserved, he supposed. It was to be his punishment for his transgressions, his betrayals. The price he had to pay for his weakness. Percy had wondered more than once why he had been placed in the house of Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw, he had always felt that he had received the majority of the brains and his brothers all the valor. Merlin, even Ginny had more gumption than he did! What was the use of having intelligence if you did not have the courage to use it?

Percy shook his head at himself as he stared about his dark, dank office. This was not what he had wanted! He had wanted to preserve the law and, if he was honest with himself, maybe one day be the one to make the law. But this – this was not what he had wanted. This farce, this perverted atrocity of a Ministry was not the administration he had spent his formative years yearning to join. It was not the place that had once upon a time filled him with a sense of hope and purpose. It was no longer the establishment of justice and order it had once been, having mutated overnight into an institution of segregation, hatred and degradation.

This place was no longer the embodiment of moral and social rule and regulation that he had deserted his family to join. Fury burned inside of Percy at the ramifications of what he had done, and who he had done it to, hit him full force. His family! He still could not believe what he had done to them, and for what? To work for men who could not even be bothered remembering his name? To watch as men he had long admired were driven from office by corrupt, power hungry, war-mongers? To watch what he had worked so hard for, what he had toiled away in classrooms and study halls for, disintegrate before his eyes?

Percy did not want to believe that it had all been for nothing. That everything he had sacrificed had been forfeited in vain. He had turned his back on his family for nothing! Percy hung his head as it began to fill with his mother and father’s pleas, begging him to answer their letters, to see reason, to come home. One after the other, they seemed to slam into his skull and reverberate, each more heartbroken than the last. Percy lifted a shaking hand to roughly grab his pounding head, as if trying to compress all the voices, to muffle them somehow. It did not work and he knocked over his barely opened bottle of Odgen’s Finest while he was at it, spilling its contents all over his office carpet, leaving it to join all the papers and reports that he had flung to the floor earlier.

His hands started to shake even more as his own voice joined those of his family, filling his head with all the excuses he had fed himself over the years in an effort to assuage any guilt he felt:

They never understood my need for order within the chaos that was life as a Weasley…

They never understood that my rigidity with the rules came from a fear of failure…

They never understood my pride in the things that distinguished me from my brothers – the things that made me special, the things that made me stand out as an individual, instead of just another Weasley boy, lumped into a heap of red hair and freckles destined to be forgotten as soon as I was out of sight…

They had never understood me!

All the words, the feeble excuses, resounded in his head, each sounding more hollow, pathetic and far-reaching than the one before. He had been a fool. A traitorous fool hiding behind his supposed intelligence like a scared child hiding behind its mothers skirts, using his achievements and his position to shield and insulate himself rather than fight for what was right. Rather than fight alongside his family. All the truths he had thought absolute crumbled around him as he realised too late that he could have had victory in his career without leaving victims – without leaving his family. If he had earned his way rather than accepting all the bogus promotions, advancements designed to use him as a pawn. For that is what they had done, this scourge, masquerading itself as the Ministry, had used his need for independence, his need for individuality for their own devices. They had used his blinding ego to inadvertently spy on his family, to get information on them and he had allowed them. His self-importance and naivety had placed his family in danger. So absorbed in his own accomplishments he had failed to see that someone as unproven as he should not have been given the promotions he had. He had let his infernal conceit rule his head and his family had paid the price. His brother’s wedding ruined, his family questioned (and more than likely tortured!) and another brother – no, two brothers, including Harry – on the run.

He had been wrong about Harry, he had acted abysmally towards the boy who had shown more loyalty and love towards his family than he had and he knew, like his other transgressions, that nothing would or could ever make up for it. He had damned himself with the actions that he had taken and the ones he had been too afraid and ashamed to undertake. But that does not mean it has to stay that way, Percy thought to himself with shaky resolve. He may not be able to repair the damage he had done but he could still try and lend aid to them and their cause in reparation, it was not too late to join the fight.

With that last thought in mind Percy climbed to his feet and stumbled from his office, it was time to go to Hogwarts!

 Warning: Highly combustible.