A Small Matter
Title: A Small Matter
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Angel the Series belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.
A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.
A/N 2: Some of these drabbles will be about people surrounding Winifred's life or who will come into her life at a later date.
A/N 3: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.
It was strange that it was Fred’s 7th year before she was directly faced with death.
But there was no longer War going on and witches and wizards naturally live a very long time. And Mr. Ollivander had lived a very very very
All of her group (family/group/family
) had offered to come with her ranging from Montgomery - sweetly and repeatedly, Lily - easily, to James - awkward and stiltedly. But, none the less they all meant it. And she turned them all down, this would be something with just her mother and her (and their Draco-dragon). That was enough (although she almost took up James – she doesn’t know if it’s because he’s trying
or it’s the old Angel and Spike dynamic that rears up and when he flounders sometimes she just wants to poke him a little).
She already owns a black dress. It’s not the sort of thing she tends to wear, but it had been a gift from Grandmother Narcissa almost two years ago now. And although the other girls might sometimes talk about developing a figure, it’s times like these that she thinks it’s pretty lucky that she has grown more up
But, standing with an arm around her mother at the burial, Fred wonders if maybe the heavy brocade fabric is tighter on her chest than she originally thought. Or maybe that is just because of what is going through her head. Ollivander (always the wandmaker) has a casket made of a fine wood but she keeps seeing old stone instead - sharp entrancing gems decorating the outside (don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch
And she grips her mother’s waist tighter, closes her eyes, and leans her head against the familiar shoulder because that isn’t even the most disturbing of the thoughts that hit her today. But, she can’t think too hard on the others. She can’t put her problems onto this day of remembrance of a man that was always so kind to both her Mom and her. So, she pushes it down for now and opens her eyes to watch them lower the box with his body in it into the ground.
It will wait.
The next day, after many many assurances Draco-dragon goes into the shop to check on something for just a few hours.
And Fred knows it is probably too soon to talk about this. She can read her mother better than anyone, and under that top layer of calm she is mourning deeply. Ollivander had been a surrogate parent to her. Fred has seen the albums full of smiles, laughter and love that just jumps off the page of a young Luna first with both mother and father. Then, after age nine, all over the world with just her father. She was always so close to both of them. Ollivander had given her back a bit of the last of that that the Death Eaters had tried to steal away.
But, she has to know. Has to know for sure. And her mother has never
lied to her.
She finds her sitting in bed staring at an untouched steaming mug of tea her Draco-dragon had given her before he left. Fred slowly climbs into bed beside her and snuggles up close (careful not to disturb the hot liquid) as she has done often in the past.
“Mom,” she whispered quietly, “Mommy, I- I have to ask you something.”
Luna looked up at her daughter slowly, her eyes distant.
“The other Fred,” she balled the sheets together in her hand but kept eye contact, “do you know – do you know if the other Winifred was ever buried?”
Her mother blinked and took a deep breath, she carefully turned for a second setting her mug on the side table. When she unknotted Fred’s hands from the sheets and held them, her hands were unnaturally warm.
“Fred,” she said gently, “you’ve dreamed of blue. “
It was a question not a statement but she nodded with her heart hammering hard in her chest.
“The other Winifred,” her mother said slowly, “was never buried. She was taken over by that blue. It’s name was Illyria. It used Fred’s body…”
“…as a shell,” Fred finished her eyes staring blankly.
“Yes,” her mother said tucking a strand of Fred’s hair behind her ear.
Fred snapped back into the present at the touch and she started a panicked babble, “So, she- her body was just burnt out on the inside and used by this - this thing
. She never got to die. She never got to leave. She never got to….”
Her mother released her hands and grabbed the sides of her face, “Shh, shh, my Sunbeam,” she soothed and the serenity her mom wore like a cloak seemed to drape over her as well. “It was just her body. The vessel. Once she died – she was dead. Her soul wasn’t burnt up – souls don’t work like that. Her soul got to escape.” She let her hands slide down to Fred’s shoulders, “And you know where that soul went dear.”
Fred’s eyes went very wide as she gazed into those of her mother. She did know. This was knowledge that didn’t feel new or unexpected. The dreams. The memories – they were
memories. It had always just been unsaid but had always been right there deep inside her.
“But what about my
soul,” she asked in a broken whisper, “I mean, the soul this body was meant
Her mother’s smile was patient, “She wasn’t like Illyria dear – you know
that, she wasn’t going to force anyone else out. Babies are born that need souls and the other Fred - well it was decided that her time had been cut well before it’s due.”
“So,” Fred asked after a pause, biting her lip and looking down, “I’m just her do-over?”
“No,” her mother said and Fred’s eyes flew back up surprised by the steel in her voice, “you are not
her do-over. You are not
Winifred Burkle. You
are Winifred Lovegood. You
are my daughter
. You are the biological daughter of Harry Potter. You have your Draco-dragon. And your Uncle George, and Uncle Lee, and Aunt Hannah, and so many others that it would take forever and a day to say them all,” she smiled before turning serious again. “You have your own
family. You make your own
friends. You are your own
person. You make your own
She leaned forward until their foreheads touched, “You
are your own
After a long breathless moment she leaned back on the pillows again and picked up her tea. In her usual dreamy voice she asked, “Do you understand, Sunbeam?”
She stared at her mother (her
mother, the other Winifred hadn’t had Luna Lovegood as a mother. That alone must have made a difference). “Yes, I understand,” she said calmly settling on the pillows as well.
She was Winifred Sola Lovegood.
And her family was kinda awesome.
A/N 4: Well, that's the end for now. But, I wanted to ask, would you all be interested in more? This group continuing later in life and all? I ask because I do have some ideas that I have been playing with, but, the new bits wouldn't be posted regularly like everything in the series so far. My brain has been stuck pretty exclusively in this world and it's been a bit intensive.
Lately though, I've been poking tentatively at some of my other fics and I want to attempt to work with them again.
So. No promises, but do you think it ends well enough here, or do you want to hear more (and if so about who? I know I have a pretty long list of people and relationships that I play with in this series XD) ?