Rebuilt | f.weasley

15

This chapter is a flashback to the day of Sirius' funeral

Emotions

I was never any good at expressing them

Until i got together with fred, he showed me how to open my heart, taking my hand in his and helping me knock down the barriers i had put up.

That was until my fathers death.

I didnt want to feel.

i didnt want to eat.

I didnt want to talk.

I didnt want to sleep.

I wanted nothing but for him to be breathing.

But he wasn't.

Today we would celebrate his life.

The concept humored me.

What celabrations came from someoe life being cut short?

Sugacoating the truth didnt make anything better.

You had to come to the ealisation that whats gone is gone

No matter how ugly, hard or terrifying it was.

It was the only way to move on with life.

'danny' freds voice whispered from beside my ear.

I could feel his body agasint mine, his chest on my back as i faced the wall.

Not blinking, not thinking, not dreaming...

Just laying there, completely unawhare to whatever was happening around me.

His hand came up to my shoulder, running his fingers softy across my cold skin.

'Love, you've gotta get up'  he spoke again, this time slightly louder but still in the previous tone.

I rolled over slolwy, using the tiny amount of energy i had in my arms to sit myself up.

I noticed a tear spalsh onto my bare thigh as i looked down, telling me that i mustve been crying, even though i had no recollection.

'Darling' i heard fred mutter sadly, his hand still remaining on my skin.

I looked towards him, my expression blank as he wiped away another tear.

I let out a breath, standing up stright and cracking my neck.

I hadnt slept a wink last night.

Fred knew this of course as he didnt allow himself to sleep until i had.

But i couldnt seem to seperate my emtional and physical exhaustion.

My messy brown hair hung down to my naked lower back, usually the tickling sensation wouldve given me goosebumps.

But along with everything else, i couldnt feel a thing.

I dug into the pockets of my leather coat, taking out my lighter and ciggarettes, the lighters body engraved with s.b.

It was my fathers.

In fact he had acciedntally left it in my pocket before i left to go to school.

I wrote to him, telling him he's forgoten it and he told me to hold on to it until i saw him next.

Little did i know that that would be the day he died.