The Years Between || G.W

1998- Emma's POV

***A/N*** Hey guys! This chapter deals with a lot of sad stuff. Please take care of yourself mentally. If you're not in the greatest headspace right now I might suggest coming back to this chapter a little later. Love you all xx

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I thought that listening to Potterwatch would make it better.

That somehow, hearing his name spoken by people who love him just as furiously as I do would make it all disappear.

How foolish of me.

How utterly foolish it was to think that I had the rest of my life to love Fred Weasley.

How instead of giving myself the six years I could have had.

I gave myself less than one.

Less than a year, to love a man like Fred Weasley is not enough time.

Six years to love a man like Fred Weasley would not have been enough time.

I wanted decades.

I wanted centuries.

I wanted a millennium.

I gave myself less than a year.

We were going to have a life together.

We were going to have a house and kids and a dog and a joke shop to run.

We were going to have the world.

He was my world.

Fred Weasley was the reason I got out of bed in the morning when the Dark Lord was making my life a living hell. I knew that all would be okay because I loved Fred Weasley and he was enough.

He was more than enough.

He was everything.

I acted like a child. Messing about with a French boy I hardly knew when I could have been in the arms of Fred Weasley.

I acted like a child when he told his mother that I was just a friend.

He wasn't ready and I knew he wasn't ready.

But I pushed,

And I pushed,

And I pushed.

And eventually, he got tired of pushing me back.

Violet and George did it. Violet and George stayed together during the war because they understood how important love was.

If I didn't push so hard maybe I wouldn't be alone in this bed.

Maybe Violet and George would be happy and in love like they should be.

Maybe I wouldn't have had to listen to Lee read his name off of some bit of parchment on his broadcast.

Fredrick Gideon Weasley was the love of my life.

Is the love of my life.

And I watched him die before I could tell him that.

So I lie in my bed, unable to get up, unable to eat or to drink or to sleep.

I lie here with my eyes open.

Looking at nothing.

Thinking about nothing.

I am a shell of the woman I used to be.

His funeral is on Saturday.

His mother invited me.

I don't know if I should go.