Disclaimer: The HPverse does not belong to me (clearly). It's JKR's-you know that. Lyrics: The Used-Pieces Mended
Prologue
Being faced with what I'm faced with I feel
Like I can't rock
Like a rock hit my heart
Started to chain the day
And exploded into pieces
The funeral was small, private. Family, friends, co-workers-few others had been invited-even fewer had shown up. In the wake of recent events, nothing had quite gotten back to normal; most people were celebrating, some were in mourning, some were still waiting to hear from loved ones, checking St. Mungo's everyday, praying and hoping against hope. The wizarding world was in turmoil-but no longer in grave danger.
There was a young man sitting in the second row of chairs to thank for that. He kept his head of messy black hair down, his green eyes trained on the floor, his hands folded in his lap, thumbs bouncing uselessly off of one another. He looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but in that cemetery, listening as Arthur Weasley eulogized his son.
"I've been…so blessed, really, to have had my son for twenty-two years. I know that I'll be able to look back, when I need to, and remember him the way he was as a little boy-so curious about everything, as a schoolboy-so confident, so intelligent, and as a man-honest, driven, successful. I'll be able to remember that-to remember him-and be thankful that I've still got the rest of my family. One son hardly seems like much to lose when there are some people who've lost everything." Arthur paused for a moment, swallowing hard. The sound of Molly's sobs, muffled in her handkerchief, filled the silence. "He was a good boy, our Percy," Arthur continued hurriedly, "a good boy. I'll miss him. His mother, sister, and brothers will miss him too. Rest in peace, Perce. Or, if you can't do that, I'm sure they've got something to organize where you've gone." The head of the Weasley family dropped his balding head in a little nod and returned to his seat beside his wife. She promptly collapsed against him, weeping inconsolably.
Harry shifted in his chair behind the Weasleys. He watched morosely as Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Ron surrounded the casket and lowered it slowly into the ground, each tossing upon it a handful of dirt. When it was Ron's turn, Harry was aware of Hermione's hand on top of his own. He glanced over and saw her cinnamon eyes glass over as she watched Ron mutter something under his breath and drop his dirt on top of his brother's casket. Harry draped an arm across her shoulders and pulled her against him, feeling her tears soak through his dark green shirt while her hands twisted between his.
"Sorry," she whispered with a sniffle, pulling back and revealing the spot she'd left on his shirt.
Harry offered a sad smile, "Don't worry about it."
The funeral was ended not long after that and the wake at the Burrow followed immediately. People filtered in all day; Ministry workers, old schoolmates, distant family members, members of the Order. They offered their condolences to Arthur and Molly, helped themselves to the food, asked one another about families and work, and discreetly shook hands with Harry when they got the chance. Some less discreet than others, Cormac McLaggen rushed immediately over to Harry and pumped his hand enthusiastically.
"Gosh, Harry-I've been meaning to thank you. We've all been meaning to thank you. Hope we can put all this business we had between us in school aside and become-," he thankfully was not able to finish as Hermione pushed her way between the two of them.
"Oh, go away, McLaggen," she snapped with a roll of her eyes. "What are you even doing here? You weren't friends with Percy."
"Well," McLaggen had the decency to look embarrassed, "we all went to school together. I heard about what had happened…just thought I'd drop by to offer my condolences…."
"Then why don't you offer them to his parents-over there." She pointed across the room where the Weasleys were busy talking to Kingsley Shacklebolt.
McLaggen nodded slowly. "Right," he said, returning his hands to his pockets. "Well, I should do that."
"Yes, I'd say so," Hermione agreed coolly.
"I'm sure I'll be seeing both of you…later. Harry-good talking to you."
Harry, who had done no talking at all, simply nodded and offered a weak smile.
When McLaggen was out of earshot, Hermione turned to her best friend. "You looked like you could use a rescue."
He smiled, "My hero."
"Have you seen Ron?"
"Last I saw he was going outside with Fred and George." Harry twisted his neck to peer through the window out to the garden. Sure enough, there sat three Weasley brothers, each swigging from a bottle of beer. "Let's go sit with them," he suggested, placing his hand on her back and steering her through the guests out the backdoor.
"Hey guys," Hermione greeted quietly, dropping down into one of the chairs surrounding the glass patio table.
"'Lo Hermione," Ron replied, mindlessly loosening his tie.
"Here, Harry, crack one open," Fred tossed him a bottle from the cooler.
"Thanks," Harry twisted off the cap and sank into the chair between George and Hermione.
"Can you pass me one of those, please Fred?" Hermione asked politely, tucking her hair behind her ears.
"Sure thing," he passed the icy bottle down the line and watched with slight amusement as Hermione mechanically handed her bottle back to Ron to be opened.
She took a long drink, her nose twitching as she brought the bottle from her lips to the table. "Long day," she commented sadly.
"Yep," George's long fingers grazed his cheek, noting that he needed to shave and probably should've done so that morning.
They sat in silence for a long time, not looking at each other or anything else in particular, drinking, each lost in his or her own thoughts. After awhile, things inside the house became quiet again and Arthur poked his head out the window.
"Everything all right out here?" he asked with a small smile.
The group turned, "Everything's fine, Mr. Weasley," Harry reassured, matching his smile.
"Well, come inside whenever you get hungry. There's plenty of food."
"Sure, Dad," Fred nodded.
"Dad?" Ron asked, just as Arthur was about to close the window.
"Yes?"
"Is Mum okay?"
Arthur's expression-which had almost passed for pleasant-faltered. "She'll be fine, Ron." Without another word, he pulled himself back indoors and shut the window.
That seemed to break the spell that had settled over the five of them. George wiped his hands on his pants and got to his feet. His twin followed suit, Harry, Ron and Hermione, however, did not move.
George held his bottle out to the center of the table. "To Percy-even though he was a pain in the ass. We'll still miss him."
With half-hearted smiles, everyone knocked their bottles together. "To Percy," they muttered, draining the last of their beverages.
The twins went inside, leaving three stony-faced friends on the patio.
"You all right, mate?" Harry asked sliding his bottle from one hand to the other.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ron answered distractedly. "I mean, I'll be fine." He cleared his throat. "How're you doing, Hermione?"
She waved away his question, "I'm fine. I had my last check-up yesterday. The Healer says there's no damage."
"No damage at all?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.
"No, Harry," she insisted, "no damage at all."
"Must've been a dud curse," Ron suggested amicably.
"Or a none-too-talented wizard," Hermione offered with a shrug. "Regardless, I'm just grateful it didn't work."
"Me too," said Harry quickly, meeting her eyes briefly before looking away.
Ron smiled through closed lips, "Here's to better days," he toasted, holding his bottle out in the style of his brother.
His friends clinked bottles, "To better days."
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