Childfree for a few hours

[ciroccoj]

• Happy April Fool's!
  
  
• Here, for your viewing pleasure: 100 Greatest April Fool's Hoaxes of All Time. My fave is still the Swiss Spaghetti Harvest, but I must admit the Taco Liberty Bell, San Serriffe, and the value of Pi also get a chuckle out of me every time :)
  
  
• Personally not having a great week, though today Chris is off work and has taken the kibbles away to a museum. Go! Chris!
  
  In keeping with my mood, I've got a not so cheerful post-Deathly Hallows ficbit! Another one from my HP Fic That Will Probably Never See the Light of Day. I guess I should've waited to post April Fool's today, but as there's more than enough depressing birthday-centric fics being posted out there right now, I'll be different and post a bit from earlier in the book, during the chapter called The Seven Potters. Which we just read at bedtime last night, by the way.
  
  Oh, um, warning for bad language, I guess.
  
  *********
  "All right, up we go!"
  
  Arthur kicked off, not needing to look around him to be acutely aware of all of his boys. Fred's arms around his waist, Bill with Fleur to his right, George with Remus to his left, Ron with Tonks directly in front of him. And Harry - the real one - at his far right, with Hagrid. He breathed deeply, keeping himself calm as they rose, grateful beyond imagining that they'd been able to keep Ginny from joining them despite her tantrums, that Charlie was safe among his dragons, that Percy was-
  
  This was not the time to be thinking of Percy.
  
  Two hours, maximum, he reminded himself. He and Fred would fly to the safehouse in Staines, grab their Portkey, and get back to the Burrow in time for dinner. Although he would probably skip dinner, now he thought of it, in favour of bed. He'd been a nervous wreck ever since Mad-Eye had come up with this insane plan and his boys had all jumped at the opportunity to be involved in it, and hadn't slept a wink last night.
  
  Maybe he'd just sleep till tomorrow night. That should do it.
  
  And at that moment all hell broke loose.
  
  "My God-" Arthur breathed in, horrified, as the seven Harrys and their protectors were surrounded by a swarm of at least thirty Death Eaters.
  
  "Dad! Protego!"
  
  And the curses and counter-curses were coming thick and fast, the air was alive with them, and Arthur shut down everything but the immediacy of what they were doing. Get away. Get Fred out of here alive. Don't think about the others, there's no time, all of them are proven fighters except for Mundungus. He turned, avoiding a Death Eater, felt his son who wasn't Harry push his head down, felt a curse whistle right past him - something shattered, close by, two curses smashing against each other, oily remnants flitting past as they veered, and it would've been better to have Fred doing the flying, he was a brilliant Beater after all, whereas Arthur's flying days were behind him - but then again, Fred appeared to be pretty good at fighting as well. Arthur pushed down everything but narrow focus of duck, wheel, dip, try to get away, as Fred threw curse after curse and shield after shield, and there was shouting and screaming around them, he was pretty sure he'd seen two pairs fly away with nobody in pursuit, no idea who was who any more, other than Harry was in the motorcycle and a part of Arthur that wasn't fully engaged in the battle suddenly wondered if that had been such a wise move, making him unique among the Harrys, but there was no time to think, it was just duck and wheel and let Fred do the fighting-
  
  Then Fred stiffened and gave a strangled shout, and Arthur's heart clenched in panic.
  
  "Fred! Are you-"
  
  Fred grabbed the broom handle and forced them around, and Arthur saw as if in slow motion Harry right below them, blood flowing shocking scarlet down his neck, and he barely suppressed a shout of dismay and started to head down to help, quickly realizing he couldn't do that, the plan was-
  
  Harry wasn't on the motorcycle. Harry was on a broom with Remus.
  
  Not Harry.
  
  George.
  
  Arthur's heart stopped and he veered down, heading towards his son, whose unfamiliar green eyes were open wide, face grey, clutching on to Remus, blood gushing down-
  
  "NO! Dad!!" Fred had turned the broom around again, and shouted into his ear, firing off curses in between shouts. "NO! You can't! Stick with the plan!" Arthur turned and gaped at him. "Leave him to Remus, Remus knows what he's doing!" Fred fired off a few more curses, gave Arthur a hard shake. "DAD! Fuck's sake, come on! We have to draw them away!"
  
  Arthur swallowed hard and wrenched himself back into doing what he was supposed to be doing, flying, heading towards their safehouse, forcing his brain to remember plans and destinations and focus on avoiding curses and helping Fred, forcing away all thoughts of how Fred's Harry-voice was strained as he fired off hexes determinedly. Damn, but he was good - curses and protection spells Arthur had totally forgotten, Fred was doing them all, one after another after another, coldly, precisely, no hint of laughter in his grim voice, no pause to cheer as he hit a Death Eater and the Death Eater dropped away, and it had all become timeless and he had no idea whether they'd been flying and fighting for minutes or hours - and then they were clear.
  
  They were at the safehouse. Through the wards. Thank God. They landed and practically fell off their broom, both gasping for air. Arthur sat and put his head in his hands, his whole body shaking.
  
  "Mr. Weasley?" a young blond woman in ripped jeans and pink robes came running up to them, stopping short at the sight of both of them on the ground. "Lumos!"
  
  Arthur squinted at her through the sudden light, trying to remember her name, but she wasn't talking to him.
  
  "We're all right, Verity," said Fred, and stood up, holding out his hand to Arthur, who took it and stood.
  
  "You missed your Portkey, what happened?" said Verity, leading them into a small house.
  
  "They knew. They were waiting for us," Fred said grimly, and Verity gasped. He glanced over Arthur. "All right, Dad?"
  
  "Yeah, of course-" he checked over Fred, saw a bruise under one eye and a tear in his jeans, but no other damage. He was so pale, though.
  
  "You got hit - sorry, I didn't see that one," Fred said, his voice hoarse from shouting.
  
  "Nothing too bad. It just itches." Arthur scratched at his arm, where the robe was smoking a bit, and scanned the sky. Nothing. They were safe.
  
  "I've got salve for that," said Verity briskly, having quickly brought her shock under control, leading them through the back door and into a small kitchen. "And I'll make another Portkey, just wait here." She grabbed a tube from the kitchen table, handed it to Fred, and hurried off.
  
  Safe. Silent. The only sound was their panting breaths.
  
  "Fred?"
  
  Fred looked up at him, Harry's face white as snow, swallowing hard. Arthur noted his hands were shaking.
  
  "Were you hurt anywhere else?"
  
  "No, nothing - most of the curses just flew past me-" said Fred, blinking rapidly. He handed Arthur the salve. "Erm. Nothing. You?"
  
  Arthur glanced over himself again. Nothing. A trickle of blood on his finger, no idea from what. He pushed up his sleeve, rubbing on the salve.
  
  Fred was staring at the table, shivering, suddenly sitting down.
  
  "Dad." He looked up at Arthur, his voice unsteady. "We have to – we have to go back."
  
  "No," Arthur said after a moment's hesitation. "You were right. We can't. It wouldn't do any good, and would probably do more harm."
  
  "But-"
  
  "The whole point of you doing this was to draw attention away from Harry. The Polyjuice will wear off soon. Right now they're probably still looking for somebody who looks like me and a Harry. They don't know who the real one is. Even if we could find the others, once you've changed, if we go back they can cross us off the list and concentrate on finding Harry."
  
  Fred's green eyes were wide as he stared at Arthur, disbelieving. "But George – he was hurt!"
  
  "I know that," Arthur said, his stomach turning over even as he fought to keep his voice calm and steady. "But we can't help him. He had Remus with him."
  
  "One person fighting and flying, Dad! If we-"
  
  "We don't even know where he is, Fred! If we get out from under the wards here, we'll just put ourselves in trouble, and might draw them to wherever George and Remus are!"
  
  "We can't just sit here!!" Fred shouted, getting to his feet.
  
  "We bloody well can!!"
  
  "How the hell can you say that, when it's George-"
  
  "I can say that because this is more important than George or me or you!" he shouted back. "This is what it means to be in the Order, Fred!! It means you put yourself at risk and you don't bugger up the plan just because somebody gets hurt! You wanted to be part of the Order, you wanted to join in the fight - this is what it means! And if you can't handle that, you don't belong here!"
  
  Fred suddenly doubled over, face scrunching in pain, and gasped as he began to change. Arthur gripped his shoulder hard as the change was completed, and Fred panted, his head down, waiting for his form to stabilize.
  
  "Right. I'm all right," he said, looking like himself again. Arthur's heart stabbed at him – was George turning back into himself right now? Or was he...
  
  Arthur choked, turning away, and Fred gripped his arm.
  
  "Dad."
  
  Arthur shook his head, unable to speak.
  
  "Did you see him?" Fred asked, his voice very quiet.
  
  "Yeah."
  
  Blood flowing down, eyes wide, unable to help himself. Blood, so much blood.
  
  "He was... he was still conscious. He was holding on to Remus," Fred said, his voice shaking a bit.
  
  "I know," Arthur said, his heart racing and a lead weight in his stomach. "Remus is experienced. He's in good hands."
  
  Fred nodded as they both struggled to make each other believe what they were saying.
  
  "I wish..." Fred cleared his throat. "I wish I hadn't told you to leave them."
  
  "You were right. I'm glad you did. George understood what he was getting into."
  
  Fred looked at him, his eyes huge and haunted. "Did he?"
  
  "You've both wanted to be in the Order since you came of age," Arthur said. "This is what the Order does. This is what we risk," he stopped as his voice broke, and he closed his eyes briefly.
  
  Fred nodded, swallowing hard.
  
  "What would you want him to do?" Arthur said. Fred looked up. "If it was you who was hurt?"
  
  "Stick to the plan," Fred said without hesitation.
  
  Arthur nodded.
  
  "Dad... I can't do nothing."
  
  "Pray, then."
  
  Fred blew out his breath impatiently, but Arthur was perfectly serious.
  
  It wasn't that he was a particularly religious man. He kept his relationship with God to himself, and didn't wear it on his sleeve. But he did pray, sometimes. He'd prayed every time Molly had given birth. When Charlie was gored by a dragon on his first year at the reserve. When Percy got dragonpox. When Ginny was taken, when he'd been attacked by the snake, when Ron was poisoned, when Bill was attacked. And now.
  
  He sat down and bowed his head, clearing his mind. Reached for mental quietude, for a connection to the presence he'd thanked for each of his children, and turned to in so many difficult times.
  
  Please, protect George. Please, let all my boys be safe. Bill, Fred, George and Ron, more than half of my children were on this mission and I have never needed your help so much in my life.
  
  Let Bill and Ron be all right. Let everyone be all right, Fleur and Hermione and Harry as well. And Remus, Tonks, Hagrid, Kingsley, Alastair and even Mundungus.
  
  Let them all be safe. Let them all survive. Let Harry be safe, so that the risk and the price we pay is worth it.
  
  Let George be all right. Let him be waiting for us all patched up, Molly fussing over him.
  
  He quailed for a moment at the thought of Molly's face when she saw George. Didn't let himself imagine what she'd look like if he-
  
  Let George be all right, please, let him be all right, let all my boys be all right.
  
  And if George isn't all right... his heart gave a thud that felt like a knife wound.
  
  If he isn't all right.
  
  Let us be strong enough to get through it. Let Fred be strong enough to survive it. Let us know how to help him. Because if you take George, you might as well kill Fred too.
  
  He recoiled from that thought with a shudder.
  
  No, I don't mean that. But it'll hurt him so badly, and I can't...
  
  He thought for a moment of his laughing boys, so infuriating and careless and dangerous and full of joy. The thought of one of them never laughing again, the other one dead, was more than he could tolerate and he opened his eyes.
  
  Fred had bowed his head and closed his eyes, whether in prayer or just in deep thought, Arthur didn't know. He gazed at his son, fear coursing through him.
  
  For all his joy and laughter and love, Fred had a dark streak running through him. A vicious side that only George could soften. The thought of Fred without that calming influence made Arthur shiver. He'd be in such pain, he'd be so lost, and he'd lash out at them all; probably at himself as well.
  
  He felt a surge of protectiveness for the boy next to him, this young man he'd raised, who lived to entertain and infuriate everybody around him, with George right behind him and often by his side.
  
  What would Fred do, if he had nobody to lead, nobody beside him? What would happen to him? Who would be able to help him, get him through the loss?
  
  "It's ready," Verity said half an hour later, placing a butterbeer bottle on the table in front of them. "It'll activate some time in the next ten minutes - sorry, it's not very precise, I made it too fast-"
  
  "No that's all right, Verity. Thanks," said Fred, and Arthur nodded. That had been the longest half hour Arthur had ever spent, because this time there wasn't anybody to ask what had happened, as when Ginny had disappeared, or to talk to about injuries, as when Bill was wounded. This time there had been nothing to do but sit with Fred, both of them silent and terrified, waiting for Verity to make a Portkey to send them home.
  
  "Let's go," Fred said hollowly, standing. Fred's hand was white on the bottle, and Arthur could feel him shaking.
  
  "Dad," he said, his voice so low Arthur could barely hear him. "If he's... I don't think I want to know."
  
  "I don't think I do either," Arthur admitted softly.
  
  They avoided each other's gaze, and gripped the Butterbeer bottle, Fred's free hand gripping Arthur's so hard it hurt.
  
  "Mr. Weasley?"
  
  "Yes?" Fred and Arthur answered Verity together.
  
  "Please - you'll let me know, as soon as you can, how Mr. Weasley's doing?" she asked, and Fred nodded just as the room started to spin and the Portkey dragged them off. A moment later they were in the yard at the Burrow, still holding on to the bottle.
  
  "Please, please," Fred whispered to himself, his eyes closed. "Please." He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and nodded to Arthur.
  
  "All right. Let's go."
  
  
• Also: the soundtrack for Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End is awesome.
  
  
  That is all :)

Comments

[ciroccoj.livejournal.com]

Hello I saw your fic pimped and decided to give it a go and man was I grateful that I did.
Cool!

And the heartbreaking thought of Arthur wishing the twins to not be separated and us knowing Fred dies at the end.
It's a little on the angsty side, isn't it? Seem to have been hit by the angst stick lately.

It's funny, JKR said that she thought of George as the gentler twin, the follower. I thought it made her decision to kill of Fred just really unnecessarily cruel, leaving behind the one who would be able to deal with the loss less. But then the more I thought about it, the more I thought George might be better able to cope. Maybe better able to reach out to other people and accept their help. And less likely to use anger and destructiveness to cope.

Who really knows, though.

[13oct.livejournal.com]

That was so beautifully written. You can actually feel Arthur's pain so keenly...

[ciroccoj.livejournal.com]

Thanks :)

[daf9.livejournal.com]

Poor Arthur. Poor Fred. (poor daf if ciroccoj stops posting these fic snippits. :( )

[ciroccoj.livejournal.com]

Heh - thanks :)

I've got a few more of them. They were originally supposed to be part of something much longer, but I'm thinking that's not looking terrible doable any more. So, snippets it is :)