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hp_may_madnessThis takes place about 20 years after yesterday's. See the whole series for the proper timeline/order. Sorry it's a bit of a downer. Proper pr0n soon I promise!
Title: She Would Have Loved This
Pairing: Harry/Ginny, past Charlie/Neville
Rating: R
WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!
Disclaimer: Not my characters or world or anything like that! I make no money at all from this!
Summary: The unexpected happens at Ginny’s funeral.
Prompt: word—desperation
Word Count: 1,158
Author Notes: Written for the Harry Potter May Madness community in 2013. I’m going to try to set all my stories this month in my “The Great Beyond” series (though I probably won't write them in any particular order): http://archiveofourown.org/series/35656
Everyone seemed to be handling it worse than Harry Potter. Charlie decided he really shouldn’t be all that surprised, given what the guy’d been through. But even though Harry wasn’t showing his grief, Charlie could tell it was there. Little Lily kept pulling her hand out of her father’s because he was squeezing it too hard. And he seemed to panic whenever someone asked him a question he normally would have known the answer to.
Charlie stayed close-by to handle anything Harry didn’t seem to be able to deal with. He was staying in Harry’s house now, helping after the kids, and they weren’t particularly difficult questions anyway. Mostly things like “where’s the bathroom?” and “what charity should I donate to in her name?”
The service had been a hundred times bigger than Charlie had been expecting. Fred’s funeral had been quick and quiet, like most had been after the battle. Too many had died that day to make a big production out of every one, so it was left up to the families and friends, already spread thin and exhausted by the effort of having to pick up the few pieces left.
But Ginny was a celebrity. She was Harry Potter’s wife, yes, but she had been one of the best chasers the Harpies had had in years. She’d taken a decade off for her children, but had been in the middle of a comeback when the cancer had hit. Everyone knew Ginny Weasley. And there had been an honor guard of Quidditch players from every team in the league, led by Oliver Wood of Puddlemere United.
The service had gone on for more than an hour, full of remembrances and tributes, bits of poetry and song. She probably would have loved it. The reception at the Burrow afterward was a much smaller affair in comparison, but there were still dozens of people packed into the tiny house, all buzzing about and trying to offer their sympathies. Charlie couldn’t help but think that the kindest thing anyone could do for them was to just go and let the family be.
“Are you okay, Uncle Charlie?”
Charlie turned his head to see Albus standing there, looking uncertain. Harry was sitting not far away, one hand clutching his daughter’s and the other clamped protectively on his eldest son’s shoulder. Charlie nodded to his nephew. “Yeah, I’m okay, Al. C’mere.” He pulled Al to him, onto his lap, and put an arm around him in a hug.
“I didn’t have another tie,” Albus said, finger his tie, winding one end around his finger. “I hope Mum won’t mind me wearing my Gryffindor one.”
“Your mom would have loved it. She was a proud Gryffindor.”
Albus seemed relieved as he nodded.
Charlie gave him another little hug. Poor kid. Charlie couldn’t imagine losing his own mom now, let alone when he was fourteen. Charlie was trying to come up with something to say when he caught sight of someone unexpected across the room.
Neville Logbottom looked a little older than he had back in Romania, all those years ago. How long had it been? Twenty? Twenty-two? It seemed like a lifetime ago. And though he looked older, he was still just as hot. Maybe even more-so. Quickly, Charlie put Albus down, both so that he could go after Neville and also so James wouldn’t realize his uncle was sporting a stiffy at a wake.
This was completely uncalled for, terribly uncouth. But Charlie told Al he’d be back and then rushed through the crowd of guests. He just had to talk to the man. He’d been in a suit. Problem was, everyone was either in a suit or dress robes. And there suddenly seemed to be five hundred people in the room between them. Someone moved to stand in front of Neville, talking with a plump woman who moved forward so that they both blocked his view. Charlie politely navigated through gaps, catching a glimpse of what might have been Neville’s hair or arm and then losing it again a split second later.
He politely waited for his great aunt to walk in front of him and he politely nodded to Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley who were consoling each other by the table of finger foods. By the time Charlie got to the spot where he’d seen Neville, his excitement could hardly be contained.
But Neville wasn’t there. Charlie stood for a moment, as if Neville might apparate to a spot right in front of him. He stroked the wall, anxiously looking around now. He suspected he might very well explode. Maybe he’d just imagined him. Maybe it was just all the emotions of the day playing with him. But, deep down, he knew that wasn’t it. He knew Neville was there somewhere. And Charlie just had to see him.
“Char?”
Charlie wheeled around, heart pounding.
But it wasn’t Neville. It was Ron. Ron with puffy red eyes and his arms full of empty, dirty glasses. “Could you give me a hand? We’re running low out here.”
With one more look around for a Neville who wasn’t anywhere to be found, Charlie took a few of the more unsteady-looking glasses from his brother and followed him into the kitchen. As Ron washed the glasses and Charlie stood helplessly beside him with a dish towel to dry, he couldn’t help but keep glancing over his shoulder in the hopes that Neville might walk by the doorway at that exact moment. Then, worrying that he might miss Neville, he kept his head turned and just stared.
“Charlie…” Ron nudged him with a glass and Charlie jumped. Slightly embarrassed, he took it for drying.
“Distracted?” Ron asked, oddly observant. Charlie nodded. “Yeah, um… Ron…” He couldn’t talk to Ron about it. Ron wouldn’t understand. Their little sister was dead and here Charlie was at the wake with a fucking hard-on for a man he had maybe only imagined glimpsing from across the room after years of not even thinking of him.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Neville was frequently in his thoughts. Charlie compared all his partners to Neville. Every time he saw a beautiful plant, he wished Neville were there to enjoy it with him. Every time he wanked late at night, it was Neville’s face and body he imagined to get himself off.
“Yeah?”
Charlie took a deep breath. “Neville Longbottom. I thought I saw him here a few minutes ago.”
“Neville?” Ron thought for a minute. “Yeah, I think he’s around somewhere. Said something about having to head out early to catch the bus.”
Charlie perked up. He set down the glass he’d been drying and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Ron, you’ve got to tell me where he is.” He bit his lower lip. “I know this sounds stupid after a funeral, but I’m desperate here—“
“No, it doesn’t,” Ron shook his head. “You know how Ginny liked to play matchmaker. She wanted the people she cared about to be happy. She would’ve loved this.” He smiled. “Neville’s a professor at Hogwarts now…”
Title: She Would Have Loved This
Pairing: Harry/Ginny, past Charlie/Neville
Rating: R
WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!
Disclaimer: Not my characters or world or anything like that! I make no money at all from this!
Summary: The unexpected happens at Ginny’s funeral.
Prompt: word—desperation
Word Count: 1,158
Author Notes: Written for the Harry Potter May Madness community in 2013. I’m going to try to set all my stories this month in my “The Great Beyond” series (though I probably won't write them in any particular order): http://archiveofourown.org/series/35656
Everyone seemed to be handling it worse than Harry Potter. Charlie decided he really shouldn’t be all that surprised, given what the guy’d been through. But even though Harry wasn’t showing his grief, Charlie could tell it was there. Little Lily kept pulling her hand out of her father’s because he was squeezing it too hard. And he seemed to panic whenever someone asked him a question he normally would have known the answer to.
Charlie stayed close-by to handle anything Harry didn’t seem to be able to deal with. He was staying in Harry’s house now, helping after the kids, and they weren’t particularly difficult questions anyway. Mostly things like “where’s the bathroom?” and “what charity should I donate to in her name?”
The service had been a hundred times bigger than Charlie had been expecting. Fred’s funeral had been quick and quiet, like most had been after the battle. Too many had died that day to make a big production out of every one, so it was left up to the families and friends, already spread thin and exhausted by the effort of having to pick up the few pieces left.
But Ginny was a celebrity. She was Harry Potter’s wife, yes, but she had been one of the best chasers the Harpies had had in years. She’d taken a decade off for her children, but had been in the middle of a comeback when the cancer had hit. Everyone knew Ginny Weasley. And there had been an honor guard of Quidditch players from every team in the league, led by Oliver Wood of Puddlemere United.
The service had gone on for more than an hour, full of remembrances and tributes, bits of poetry and song. She probably would have loved it. The reception at the Burrow afterward was a much smaller affair in comparison, but there were still dozens of people packed into the tiny house, all buzzing about and trying to offer their sympathies. Charlie couldn’t help but think that the kindest thing anyone could do for them was to just go and let the family be.
“Are you okay, Uncle Charlie?”
Charlie turned his head to see Albus standing there, looking uncertain. Harry was sitting not far away, one hand clutching his daughter’s and the other clamped protectively on his eldest son’s shoulder. Charlie nodded to his nephew. “Yeah, I’m okay, Al. C’mere.” He pulled Al to him, onto his lap, and put an arm around him in a hug.
“I didn’t have another tie,” Albus said, finger his tie, winding one end around his finger. “I hope Mum won’t mind me wearing my Gryffindor one.”
“Your mom would have loved it. She was a proud Gryffindor.”
Albus seemed relieved as he nodded.
Charlie gave him another little hug. Poor kid. Charlie couldn’t imagine losing his own mom now, let alone when he was fourteen. Charlie was trying to come up with something to say when he caught sight of someone unexpected across the room.
Neville Logbottom looked a little older than he had back in Romania, all those years ago. How long had it been? Twenty? Twenty-two? It seemed like a lifetime ago. And though he looked older, he was still just as hot. Maybe even more-so. Quickly, Charlie put Albus down, both so that he could go after Neville and also so James wouldn’t realize his uncle was sporting a stiffy at a wake.
This was completely uncalled for, terribly uncouth. But Charlie told Al he’d be back and then rushed through the crowd of guests. He just had to talk to the man. He’d been in a suit. Problem was, everyone was either in a suit or dress robes. And there suddenly seemed to be five hundred people in the room between them. Someone moved to stand in front of Neville, talking with a plump woman who moved forward so that they both blocked his view. Charlie politely navigated through gaps, catching a glimpse of what might have been Neville’s hair or arm and then losing it again a split second later.
He politely waited for his great aunt to walk in front of him and he politely nodded to Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley who were consoling each other by the table of finger foods. By the time Charlie got to the spot where he’d seen Neville, his excitement could hardly be contained.
But Neville wasn’t there. Charlie stood for a moment, as if Neville might apparate to a spot right in front of him. He stroked the wall, anxiously looking around now. He suspected he might very well explode. Maybe he’d just imagined him. Maybe it was just all the emotions of the day playing with him. But, deep down, he knew that wasn’t it. He knew Neville was there somewhere. And Charlie just had to see him.
“Char?”
Charlie wheeled around, heart pounding.
But it wasn’t Neville. It was Ron. Ron with puffy red eyes and his arms full of empty, dirty glasses. “Could you give me a hand? We’re running low out here.”
With one more look around for a Neville who wasn’t anywhere to be found, Charlie took a few of the more unsteady-looking glasses from his brother and followed him into the kitchen. As Ron washed the glasses and Charlie stood helplessly beside him with a dish towel to dry, he couldn’t help but keep glancing over his shoulder in the hopes that Neville might walk by the doorway at that exact moment. Then, worrying that he might miss Neville, he kept his head turned and just stared.
“Charlie…” Ron nudged him with a glass and Charlie jumped. Slightly embarrassed, he took it for drying.
“Distracted?” Ron asked, oddly observant. Charlie nodded. “Yeah, um… Ron…” He couldn’t talk to Ron about it. Ron wouldn’t understand. Their little sister was dead and here Charlie was at the wake with a fucking hard-on for a man he had maybe only imagined glimpsing from across the room after years of not even thinking of him.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Neville was frequently in his thoughts. Charlie compared all his partners to Neville. Every time he saw a beautiful plant, he wished Neville were there to enjoy it with him. Every time he wanked late at night, it was Neville’s face and body he imagined to get himself off.
“Yeah?”
Charlie took a deep breath. “Neville Longbottom. I thought I saw him here a few minutes ago.”
“Neville?” Ron thought for a minute. “Yeah, I think he’s around somewhere. Said something about having to head out early to catch the bus.”
Charlie perked up. He set down the glass he’d been drying and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Ron, you’ve got to tell me where he is.” He bit his lower lip. “I know this sounds stupid after a funeral, but I’m desperate here—“
“No, it doesn’t,” Ron shook his head. “You know how Ginny liked to play matchmaker. She wanted the people she cared about to be happy. She would’ve loved this.” He smiled. “Neville’s a professor at Hogwarts now…”
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