Categories > Books > Harry Potter
He’d been stood then a good ten minutes, lurking in the shadow’s, making sure everyone had left and no one was just going to pop up. It registered in his mind that it was getting dark now. He took a timid step forward, his breath hitched in his throat and his heart thudded dully in his chest. He felt like he was going to burst into tears before he even got the change to say his piece.
He reach the grave stone with shaking legs and watering eyes. He dropped to his knees as his head flopped downward. His hands were either side of him, holding himself up. He couldn’t take it anymore. His whole body shook with sob and his heart pound loudly in his ears. He found his nails digging into the freshly turned mud in an attempt to get some sort of control over his emotions.
He took in a shaky breath as he regained his composure. Lifting his head to face the grave stone. He almost lost it again as his eyes came in contact with the name on the gravestone, but he destracted himself by, once more, digging his nails in to the mud. He took in one more sharp breath and allowed himself the read the slab of stone in front of him.
“Fred Weasley. 20 years old.
Died fighting for what he believed in.
1978-1998
He will never be forgotten.”
In the top right corner of the gravestone there was an enchanted picture of Fred pushing someone (who had been cut out of the shot) and laughing. He was in a suit, so immediately, the boy kneeling at his grave assumed Fred was at his brothers, Bills, wedding and the person he was pushing was more then likely George.
Fred Weasley was known widely and it was very rare anyone would ever see him from. For him, the boy at the grave, this made everything so much more worse. He had always been happy. He had never, to anyones knowledge, wronged anyone without reason. The boy pushed his pale had through his even paler hair, not caring he was getting dirt in it. He changed to a more comfortable position, crossed legged, facing the grave with his dirty hands on his lap, his head looking at the floor.
“I never meant for this. I never meant for any of this.” He sniffed. “I know. This is out-of-character, when you were alive, I wouldn’t of thought twice about apologising to you. To anyone for that matter. But whats happened, this war, I’m seeing things differently. For the first time in years, I’m feeling something. I’m… I’m not numb.” He laughed. “It sounds stupid, ridiculous even. Can I explain to you? When I first started at Hogwarts, I had so many emotions: Pride. Anger. Excitement. Fear and I wasn’t afraid to show them. If I didn’t like someone, I’d show it, if I was scared, I’d show it, if I was happy, yeah, I showed it.” He pushed his hair back again and raised his eyes to look at Fred’s grave. “But as the years went on. I just stopped feeling. I just stopped caring. I guess it was kind of a defense. I started getting so many negative feelings, so many dark thoughts I guess I just shut down my emotions altogether. I was… I was a shell. I tried so hard to please my family. My father.” He spat with disgust. “The man to have claimed to love me. I was scared. When I did get emotions, that’s the only one I’d get. Maybe if my father hadn’t got involved with the Voldemort, I could have been happy. Enjoyed my childhood more. I just wanted to please them. That’s why I went over to them. I just wanted to please them.” he repeted. “That’s all I ever wanted to do… Now though, I realize, My family never really cared for me. Ever. They just wanted a follower. Another person for Voldemort to destroy!” His voice rose in anger “I was nothing! I was… I was shit to them! They didn’t care!” he started to shake and cry again. “Oh god Fred.” he moaned “Why? I’m so sorry Fred. I’m so so-sorry. It should have been me! I’m so…” he words trailed of into quiet sobbing.
He sat there, head in his head, sobbing his heart out. He hadn’t heard anyone walking. He hadn’t realized there was someone behind him. A hand rested on his shoulder, making him just in the air, making his heart pound against his rib cage. Through his burning eyes, he saw Harry standing, looking at him sadly.
“It wasn’t your fault Malfoy.” He whispered. Malfoys body convulsed as he glared at Harry.
“Oh yeah?” He snapped “It was someones fault! If not mine, then who’s?” Harry shook his head.
“A lot of bad things have happened of the past few months. Terrible, horrifying things. None of them were personally down to you. None of them. The deaths? You weren’t the cause. Voldemort was. It wasn’t you.” The two boys stared at each other. They were bearly out of nappies before they were pushed and tangled in all of this. Malfoy lowered his head, he sniffed loudly.
“Why aren’t you mad at me? Why don’t you hate me? I wronged you so much.” Malfoy sniffed. Harry smiled.
“I heard everything you said just then. Remember when we were in the Room of Requirement? It was on fire. You’d already lost one of your friends. You were going to die. We saved you and your friend. Malfoy, I always knew you were hurting. I always knew you never wanted to get mixed up with the Voldemort. I know. That why I saved you. I could of easily left you to die, but I knew you never wanted to get mixed up in any of this.”
Malfoy looked at Harry, he could feel his hear breaking in his chest. His legs buckled underneath him and he feel to the ground, sobbing again. Harry walked over and sat next to him. He wrapped his arms round Malfoys shaking body and held him as he cried.
By the time Malfoys sobs had shrunk to sniffles, Harrys shirt was wet through. He looked down on Malfoy and smiled.
“Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?” Harry asked. Malfoy shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. “Then you’ll stay with me.” Before Malfoy could object, Harry pulled him to his feet and started leading him in the direction of the house in which Harry was staying. It was pitch black and there was wind, then there was almost a whisper. Both boys whipped round having heard the noise. As they looked back, they caught eye contact and both realized. It was a whisper of the good people they had lost. It was a whisper of the bad people they had lost. It was a whisper victory. It was a sign.
It was finally all over.
He reach the grave stone with shaking legs and watering eyes. He dropped to his knees as his head flopped downward. His hands were either side of him, holding himself up. He couldn’t take it anymore. His whole body shook with sob and his heart pound loudly in his ears. He found his nails digging into the freshly turned mud in an attempt to get some sort of control over his emotions.
He took in a shaky breath as he regained his composure. Lifting his head to face the grave stone. He almost lost it again as his eyes came in contact with the name on the gravestone, but he destracted himself by, once more, digging his nails in to the mud. He took in one more sharp breath and allowed himself the read the slab of stone in front of him.
“Fred Weasley. 20 years old.
Died fighting for what he believed in.
1978-1998
He will never be forgotten.”
In the top right corner of the gravestone there was an enchanted picture of Fred pushing someone (who had been cut out of the shot) and laughing. He was in a suit, so immediately, the boy kneeling at his grave assumed Fred was at his brothers, Bills, wedding and the person he was pushing was more then likely George.
Fred Weasley was known widely and it was very rare anyone would ever see him from. For him, the boy at the grave, this made everything so much more worse. He had always been happy. He had never, to anyones knowledge, wronged anyone without reason. The boy pushed his pale had through his even paler hair, not caring he was getting dirt in it. He changed to a more comfortable position, crossed legged, facing the grave with his dirty hands on his lap, his head looking at the floor.
“I never meant for this. I never meant for any of this.” He sniffed. “I know. This is out-of-character, when you were alive, I wouldn’t of thought twice about apologising to you. To anyone for that matter. But whats happened, this war, I’m seeing things differently. For the first time in years, I’m feeling something. I’m… I’m not numb.” He laughed. “It sounds stupid, ridiculous even. Can I explain to you? When I first started at Hogwarts, I had so many emotions: Pride. Anger. Excitement. Fear and I wasn’t afraid to show them. If I didn’t like someone, I’d show it, if I was scared, I’d show it, if I was happy, yeah, I showed it.” He pushed his hair back again and raised his eyes to look at Fred’s grave. “But as the years went on. I just stopped feeling. I just stopped caring. I guess it was kind of a defense. I started getting so many negative feelings, so many dark thoughts I guess I just shut down my emotions altogether. I was… I was a shell. I tried so hard to please my family. My father.” He spat with disgust. “The man to have claimed to love me. I was scared. When I did get emotions, that’s the only one I’d get. Maybe if my father hadn’t got involved with the Voldemort, I could have been happy. Enjoyed my childhood more. I just wanted to please them. That’s why I went over to them. I just wanted to please them.” he repeted. “That’s all I ever wanted to do… Now though, I realize, My family never really cared for me. Ever. They just wanted a follower. Another person for Voldemort to destroy!” His voice rose in anger “I was nothing! I was… I was shit to them! They didn’t care!” he started to shake and cry again. “Oh god Fred.” he moaned “Why? I’m so sorry Fred. I’m so so-sorry. It should have been me! I’m so…” he words trailed of into quiet sobbing.
He sat there, head in his head, sobbing his heart out. He hadn’t heard anyone walking. He hadn’t realized there was someone behind him. A hand rested on his shoulder, making him just in the air, making his heart pound against his rib cage. Through his burning eyes, he saw Harry standing, looking at him sadly.
“It wasn’t your fault Malfoy.” He whispered. Malfoys body convulsed as he glared at Harry.
“Oh yeah?” He snapped “It was someones fault! If not mine, then who’s?” Harry shook his head.
“A lot of bad things have happened of the past few months. Terrible, horrifying things. None of them were personally down to you. None of them. The deaths? You weren’t the cause. Voldemort was. It wasn’t you.” The two boys stared at each other. They were bearly out of nappies before they were pushed and tangled in all of this. Malfoy lowered his head, he sniffed loudly.
“Why aren’t you mad at me? Why don’t you hate me? I wronged you so much.” Malfoy sniffed. Harry smiled.
“I heard everything you said just then. Remember when we were in the Room of Requirement? It was on fire. You’d already lost one of your friends. You were going to die. We saved you and your friend. Malfoy, I always knew you were hurting. I always knew you never wanted to get mixed up with the Voldemort. I know. That why I saved you. I could of easily left you to die, but I knew you never wanted to get mixed up in any of this.”
Malfoy looked at Harry, he could feel his hear breaking in his chest. His legs buckled underneath him and he feel to the ground, sobbing again. Harry walked over and sat next to him. He wrapped his arms round Malfoys shaking body and held him as he cried.
By the time Malfoys sobs had shrunk to sniffles, Harrys shirt was wet through. He looked down on Malfoy and smiled.
“Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?” Harry asked. Malfoy shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. “Then you’ll stay with me.” Before Malfoy could object, Harry pulled him to his feet and started leading him in the direction of the house in which Harry was staying. It was pitch black and there was wind, then there was almost a whisper. Both boys whipped round having heard the noise. As they looked back, they caught eye contact and both realized. It was a whisper of the good people they had lost. It was a whisper of the bad people they had lost. It was a whisper victory. It was a sign.
It was finally all over.
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