#make yourself sad hours

[avalynlestrange]

Bigger than the Whole Sky

Fred Weasley x Muggleborn!Reader

Reader: Muggleborn, Orphan, She/Her Pronouns, Able to get pregnant

Warnings: This could be triggering, Death, mourning, depression, pregnancy, religion, implied smut (I don’t write smut yet), cravings, make yourself sad hours

Category: One-Shot, Songfic, Angst, Major Character Death

Summary: In which you deal with the loss of the love of your life and the gain of new ones.

Author’s Note: It took me awhile to write this one. I usually like to believe the fact that Fred was just playing an ill-timed prank. I wrote it in bits and pieces so it might seem clunky. The idea was sad and the execution miserable. It does seem fitting to post on Weasley Wednesday though. I'll make up for the sadness I swear!

Word Count: 3021

To The Library (fic masterlist) To The Kitchen (WIPs) To Midnights Anthology

To more Fred Weasley

No words appear before you in the aftermath.

As you held Fred’s lifeless body, you scream. Agony seeps out your pores. It burns traitorously on your skin. The tears pouring down your face is the kerosine that intensifies the fires of pain.

You know life isn’t fair but you feel cheated. For his family. For George. For yourself. He is meant to live a full life full of jokes and love like how he brings them to yours. How his eyes twinkles every time he would explain an elaborate scheme or every time, he would gaze upon you. How cold and glassy they are now. 

You couldn’t save him. You can’t save him.

Amongst the chaos of the battle you were separated. That should’ve been the sign that something was afoot. But the spells whizzed all around. You didn’t find him until the victory. But you still lost. 

Your body lays next to him. The whole hall quietly suffering. Most are looking at the rubble around them vacantly.  Salt streams out your eyes and into your ears. Cause it’s all over now. All out to sea.

The door opens and you hear Hermione cry out. Hermione runs towards you. You had no energy to even turn towards her. You fixate on the ceiling that once reflected the skies and comforted you. 

When Hermione realisesyou’re not one of the lost souls, she places a hand on your arm. You can hear Ron sobbing on the other side of his brother. 

“Oh sweetie…” She tries to pick you up but you resist. Instead you curl up against Fred’s familiar form without his warmth. Your head resting on his chest without his beat. Hands around his waist without him mirroring the action.

Hermione and Harry peel you away from your heart. It’s heavy and being dragged across wreckage. However, it was already broken to begin with. They sit you down on a bench.

“You need to rest and be checked.” Hermione insists, “This has already been exhausting.”

When she hears no reply, she walks over to Madam Pomfrey and they both tend to your wounds. You didn’t even notice how many you had. Madam Pomfrey dabs on one of your deep cuts. You grit your teeth as nothing beats the excruciating stab of losing the one you love dearly. 

You let both physical and emotional pain numb you, as you sit there staring blankly at that one piece of pebble amongst the larger rocks. It was flat and perfect to skip stones with. Fred would like that.

Fred would have liked that.

A few hours go by, Mrs Weasley offers for you to stay with them at the Burrow but you couldn’t bear to relive memories that would haunt you in every nook of that house.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

The night before Bill and Fleur’s wedding you snuck into Fred’s bedroom. The windows were closed so he bewitched the ceiling to show you the twinkling stars. He would do anything to make you happy and distract you, even for a moment, about what was to come.

“I love you, you know that?” Fred whispered. His arms enveloped you in a warm embrace. Your ear pressed against his body. His heartbeat was hypnotising. It calmed your worried state.

“I love you too.” You squeezed him. He had been trying all night to relax you. You hadn’t slept properly for days. Nightmares visited you every evening preventing you from getting the slumber you desperately needed. All scenes felt realistic. They replayed the same scene of losing Fred in the war. Then Fred would wake you up as you tossed and cried in your sleep.

You didn’t tell him about what your dreams were about. When he pressed you say it was you.

You think to yourself now that maybe if you did, he would still be here.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. He was bigger than the whole sky. Now there he lies in a box. Forever encased. There were so many words left unsaid. You are grateful for all the times you had spent together. Yet spiteful of the future you were robbed. You leave wildflowers atop his grave.

‘Please Apparate and tell us this is all one elaborate prank,’ you thought to yourself and it reminds you of the day you met Fred. It was on the first day of school when you heard commotion in the compartment next to yours. Two ginger haired boys coming into your chamber and telling you to act normal. That’s when your life took a welcomed turn. 

You were inseparable ever since. Always seen around playing pranks and joking about. You realised you fell for him when he asked Angelina to ball and he realised he loved you when you arrived with another guy. 

The two of you didn’t start dating until they left Hogwarts and you graduated. Even though you hadn’t been a couple for a long time, he was more than just a short time. You both knew it when he first asked you out that this relationship was forever. But it was severed short and now you’ve got a lot to pine about. You’ve got a lot to live without. You’re never going to meet what could have been. What should have been him.

You arrive at your shared apartment. You walk over to the side table and drop your keys. Taking in all the empty space; It all still feels surreal. There is no music. No crackling sounds of brewing experiments. No laughter. No Fred coming out a corner to jump scare you at any time like he occasionally did.

‘Gotta keep you on your toes babe,’ his voice echoes in your mind as you head over to the bedroom. 

You settle in bed and cover yourself with the duvet. The darkness is a barrier to the real world. 

Day turns to night turns to day turns to night. You are a robot. Programmed to cry and sleep. Food taste bland, so you barely ate. The colours look dull, so you rarely go outside. Before you know it, the evening comes and you cry yourself to sleep once again.

You jolt waking from a strange dream. Rubber ducks, arenas, and pudding. It was very weird, and you are compelled to tell Fred before you forget the details. But as you reach for him on his side of the bed you’re met with the pillows you strategically placed as a pathetic replacement.

Did some bird flap its wings over in Asia?

Your muggle parents used to always talk to you of a higher power. How they prayed every night for protection and everything they were grateful for. You weren’t sure you believed the same, especially when this higher power took them when you were young but now you think to yourself, ‘Did some force take them because you didn't pray?’

You move and drop to your knees by the side of your bed. 

Every single thing to come has turned into ashes. There is no reason to go on. You plead to whoever is listening that you’ll snap out of this by the morning, and this is just another nightmare.

No amount of weeping and pleading can undo the damage caused by second wizarding war. You know this. Even if you could, you know Fred wouldn’t approve you risking everything for him.  

Hermione and Ginny find you the next morning frozen in prayer. They rush to your side. You lean on Hermione’s kneeling frame as you beg them. Your voice was coarse and brittle. Each word broken apart by sobs and inhales.

“Please… e-erase… him… from… m-my… memories… I… I… can’t… go… o-on… with… my… life… without… him...”

Ginny goes and comes back with a cup of water. She brings it up to your lips and tilts it slightly. The liquid feels stuck at intervals, but you take in more gulps. Trying to drown the emotions that haven’t truly dulled down cause it's all over, it's not meant to be. So you say words you don’t believe.

“I don’t want to remember him. I don’t want to remember us. Please.” You reach for your wand and thrust it to Ginny. She places it on the windowsill behind you. They embrace your stiff figure. Patting your back like a mother comforting her hurting child.

“You know we won’t do that.” Hermione swallows. “You know you don’t mean that.”

Ginny picks you up. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

“Do you think we’ll win?”

‘Do you think we’ll survive this?’ Is what you wanted to ask. Having already lost so many loved ones, it’s hard to imagine that you were going to survive. You barely paid attention in lessons. Too fixated on your other pursuits.

None of which you regretted. All of which involved Fred. Thank Merlin for DA and the order. 

You were looking out of the window of his Aunt Muriel’s house. The moon was full and high. You had sneaked into the room Fred had shared with George, who was downstairs packing up orders to send off for their business. He insisted it couldn’t wait until the morning, however you know the reason is that he can’t sleep at night and packs with the radio on.

Fred didn’t reply to your question, so you turned and looked him in the eyes. Lovingly, he stroked your hair. Despite all the happenings, he never failed to make you feel safe in his arms. 

“I think we should find a place near a lake. Then we can have picnic beside it every day.” He set the scene. “You can grow those flowers you love in the garden. Our kids would play about on open fields.”

You tried not to imagine it, but the picture was too sweet. It would be lucky to have a peaceful life like how Fred envisioned.

“I would love that very much.” You caressed his cheeks and he leaned into your hand. You both narrowed the gap between you on the bed. 

He grabbed the fabric at your back and held you like there was no tomorrow. His lips feverishly played with yours as your bodies beautifully intertwined. As you relished in each other’s touch, you hoped that this wasn’t your last.

Your silent wishes that night weren’t granted.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Another day in front of the toilet bowl. Vomiting and nauseous nearly every morning, you decide to make a doctor’s appointment for later today. You’re always so exhausted but that’s probably because you were crying yourself to sleep nightly. 

You wash your hands and walk to the kitchen for some water. Gargling a few times, you make yourself the only breakfast that didn’t remind you of Fred. Music isn’t played and books aren’t read to ensure you don’t get triggered by the ghost of him. His items are now packed away neat in a storage cupboard you never open. 

You don’t check on the everyone as often as you know you should. It feels selfish but you barely had any motivation to get out of bed except for needing to pee a lot.

Angelina managed to bring you out of the bedroom for a few hours to work on your resumes and post them out via her family owl. You received an invitation for an interview at St. Mungo’s. The interview is tomorrow, and your initial choice was to decline but Angelina gave you a long pep talk that you can’t back out now.

You take a taxi to your muggle doctor and the wait isn’t too long. Dr Garcia asks you what you’re there for and you tell her your symptoms. She asks you to pee in a cup. It confuses you but you comply. You want to be back in bed as soon as possible.

She then asks you to wait outside her office. When she calls you back, her demeanour is different.

“You have some news. I don’t know if it’s good news or bad news for you.” She starts.

You don’t brace yourself. Nothing could be worse than what you’ve already gone through - are going through.

“You’re pregnant.”

The words reverberate in your mind. Your heart starts to race, and the world starts spinning. You reach in your pocket and find a feather.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

“I swear he’s got it in for us,” you muttered quietly to Fred, when Professor Snape leaves the classroom.

“Of course he does! I mean we pull pranks on him a lot,” George replied. He motioned for you to pass him the spare rag in your hands.

“It wasn’t even me! I didn’t even do anything!” You sneered at the group of Slytherins that moved tables due to a particular loud explosion and mess on their side of your shared table. Cassius Warrington and his posse had blamed you for the incident and of course their Head of House believed their side of the story. You and the twins were given afternoon detention for the week and the task to clean up the goo that is all over your part of the classroom.

“I think it’s Snape’s turn for a trick this evening. What say you, George?” Fred turned to you and asked you the same question.

You smirked at him. “It’s like you can read my mind Freddie!”

Later that day, Professor Snape had dismissed you after your punishment.

“So I’ve told the team to cover for us so if anyone asks we are at Quidditch practice.” Fred informed you both as you sneek through secret passageways into Snape’s classroom.

You gathered all the cauldrons in the room and placed a stink bomb in each one. George then casted a spell to reduce their size. One by one you levitate the objects and hang them on the classroom lights.

“They should set off once the lights turn on tomorrow. Now let’s go!” George lead the way out.

You, however, was mesmerised by feather in a jar on Snape’s desk. The feather shimmered with cloud-like patterns. The hue of the colours shift from gold to electric blue to silver. It was quite beautiful.

“That must have been hard to comeby.” You state to Fred and told him that it must have originated from a thunderbird and shipped all the way from North America.

Fred had noticed and walked towards it. He unscrews the jar lid with ease and takes it out to give to you. He then makes the jar disappear.

“Here.” He placed the feather in your hands. “If he annoys you again just hold this and remember that I will always have your back and will always be with you… and that you have Professor Snape’s expensive thunderbird feather!”

You stroke the soft bristles, and it calms you. Fred was always by your side and will live on through your child.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Months go by. You slowly develop a routine. A 9-5 job at St. Mungo’s. You and girls take turns to check up on each other and they bring you to the doctors. Weekly Friday family night dinners at the burrow.

Fred’s possessions and photos are back where they belong all over the apartment. 

You no longer ask the sky to wake up from this new reality. You know there is no use. No magic or higher being can undo the past. Instead of begging for a rewind, you now pray nightly that Fred is in a happy place watching over you and your unborn child. 

“I think he should be named after me. After all I’m the fun Uncle.” George passes you the bowl of roast potatoes. You’d been craving potatoes in all forms during your third trimester. Mrs Weasley had happily indulged them. Cooking potato pancakes for breakfast, potato salad for lunch and now roasted potatoes. 

You had accepted her invitation to stay since Mrs Weasley would not accept a no for an answer. When the Weasleys found out you were with Fred’s child they were ecstatic. Your due date was soon. You had a lot to pine about. You have a lot to live without. But your family and friends have shown you that you have so much to live for. They have been your roots keeping you steady. 

“We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl!” Angelina snickers.

“Then she can be Georgina or Georgia!”

Every one chimes in and state reasons why your child should be named after them. You roll your eyes at their comments and walk towards the refrigerator. Reaching for the juice, you smile as you see Ginny with baby Teddy in her arms.

“I want one!” She pouts.

“You’re too young Ginerva Weasley! You need to finish Hogwarts first young lady!” Mrs Weasley shouts all the way from the dining room. You hear Mrs Tonks agree.

You feel so blessed being surrounded by your family. All is well until a sudden pain courses through your body. The plastic jug in your hand drops and you feel liquid drip below.

“The baby is coming!” Ginny yells.

⳾*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

Years go by and you watch as your daughters splash in a paddling pool by your cottage. Their ginger hair moves with the wind and their freckles clear in the sun. They remind you of the man you loved and still love. 

“Look at them Freddie. They’re just like you.” You whisper to the wind, hoping they carry the message to him.

The twins are living up to their dad and uncle’s mischievous legacy. As they run towards you with water balloons. You giggle and join their fun.

It was evening and it was time for bed.

“Come on Frederica.  It’s time for bed!” You call your darling.

“But I’m not Frederica! I’m Georgina!” She sprints and jumps into bed. But an eyebrow raise and a smirk from you, and she buckles confessing, “Only kidding Mum! I am Frederica.”

Her sister passes you a book for you to read them for bedtime. When you notice their breathing slow, you bring the duvet up to their shoulders and kiss them on their foreheads.

“What was Dad like?” Georgina asks, her eyes still closed.

“Oh honey, he was bigger than the whole sky.”

[wowa-bublord]

Does Cloud ever confront Zack about all the neglect he subjected himself to in favor of taking care of Cloud?

I think It'd be one of his first thoughts when he's awake again!

initially I think he'd just think Zack was being a bit silly, and that he'd focus more on himself now that Cloud wasn't completely reliant on him. After a few weeks(?) he'd realize how much Zack prioritizes Cloud over himself, and he'd try to be more forceful with it

....but neither of them are very good with their words, so it gets worse before it gets better.

[metriawaves]

not even death could make us part

[blonde-and-cat-suc]

Catra being anxious and having panic attacks over the bad things she did is actually counter productive to any hypothetical scenario where she is self reflecting and/or receiving constructive criticism.

Her potentially having crippling anxiety over being an asshole in the past PREVENTS and/or DELAYS any changes she might potentially make.

Making this character spiral over moral dilemmas does not inherently mean she’s actively working to change her ways. Her being afraid of facing her badness does not make her good; it simply means she has anxieties toward constructive criticism/dialogue.

[bougiebutchbitch]

.

on the one hand, very glad that my 'rents immediately took on the attitude of 'okay so you are disabled - we love you and support you and will do what we need to give you accommodations so that you can continue to live as 'normal' a life as possible'

On the whole that's been really great! I've managed to be a lot more independent than most people with my conditions - certainly most people with this severity - even though I can't live alone.

Sure, in part, that's on me. I get to pat myself on the back because whenever I see my specialists, I get a Gold Star In Patient for being so motivated and driven.

But more than that, my success & career & so forth is because I am lucky and privileged enough to have a solid and loving support network! I also live in a country with free healthcare (even if it's kinda atrocious)! And there are mandatory regulations protecting disabled people in the workplace and making sure accommodations are met (even if people are sooooo shitty about them)! My university literally bought me LOADS of very expensive aids I would never have been able to afford on my own, so I could continue to study! I am so fucking lucky, and I am very grateful to my parents for their continued care!

But. Like all the doctors/specialists/etc., my 'rents have a Strong Protestant Work EthicTM. They always want me to be actively trying to do as much as I possibly can. Which means pushing myself to breaking point before giving up and saying 'I cannot do this thing, please help'

And that

Is not

Fucking

Feasible

Long

Term

Hell, it's not feasible short term and is probably part of why I keep having flares and crashes, lol

Working yourself to exhaustion before you're allowed to ask for help is fucking awful, actually. I wish more able-bodied people realised this. Disabled people shouldn't have to push themselves to the point where they're worsening their condition before they can ask for help without being shamed. Knowing that doing a task will make your condition worse, gritting your teeth, doing it anyway, and dealing with the medical fallout is sometimes a necessity. But expecting people to do that for every single fucking task is inhumane.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[ilovecoffeeandchemistry]

ooooh i woke up in a bad mood and it's so hard not to be a bitch about it

[thefriendoforatioisdead]

I have a headcanon for Dream that no matter who she was before, and no matter how much she changed after, and no matter that everybody around her forgave her and told her countless times that they love her, Wan will forever be convinced that she is The Worst for the way she behaved when she was in a bad place.

Rationally she'll learn to understand there were some reasons to explain why she was like that (even if that doesn't excuse her entirely), and Kim will tell her thousands of times that she apologized and made amends so it's okay, and that she isn't like that anymore, and Wan will believe it, a little. But deep in her heart, she'll hold onto the belief that she doesn't deserve Kim, doesn't deserve that happiness, and that she doesn't deserve forgivness. But it's more reason for her to hold onto it like a lifeline, because if she gives it up it'll be even worse.

Because everyone may forgive her, but she won't ever completely forgive herself for how much she hurt the love of her life.

[broodygaming]

"TOXIC positivity for thinking it’s normal to, idk, enjoy the shows you watch."

no, toxic positivity is when a fandom can't take criticism and makes insular bubbles where they harass anyone who falls out of love with a thing or strawmans two different points into one so they can sound smart and win a shower argument.

y'know, like you did when you conflated the railroading and aimless arguments. :/

What’s a shower argument?

Haha wild. Anyways. Still don’t get ppl who have time to hate the things they watch. Seems really sad. Sorry ur in such a place. Hope you learn to love yourself more than that at some point.

[4giorno]

oh my god. i just saw some of my OLD OLD digital art like before i made my art blog and holy fuck. suddenly faith in myself completely restored

[takemetodragonstone]

thinking about my future, all i really want out of life is financial stability, a life-partner to build a home with, and a close-knit community of friends. when i try to imagine what happiness would look like for me, it’s a warm, crowded room full of laughter and people i love and trust. that’s it. seems so simple. so why does it feel so far out of reach?

[peapod20001]

I like to think that if my tumblr pals came to my house, they’d have a good time

[bongsavior]

why does everyone else's state dictate how i'm doing? why do i obsess over how everyone is, except for myself?

[doctorwhoisadhd]

hey. if you play an instrument you're a musician okay. there is no level of ability you need to attain to call yourself a musician and anybody who tries to tell you otherwise is either completely full of themselves or just insecure about THEIR own ability (and very likely both). your elementary general music or middle / high school band / choir / orchestra teachers were there to help give you the tools to be a musician — so USE THEM! but what if its not perfect? the definition of "musician" is literally "someone who makes music". it doesnt have to be professional. it just has to be music

[harrylights]

gonna get sappy here for a hot sec (quelle surprise)

[randomwords247]

I do wish there was a way to find out how many hours I’ve spent playing minecraft as a whole. Like, as mildly afraid as I am to find out, I’d love to also know how long I’ve played on it for. Definitely like a lot. Like I’ve had this game for yeaaaaarsssss and played on servers and singleplayer worlds alike a lot

People usually have the one game they play for hundreds upon hundreds of hours and I know minecraft is absolutely the one game I’ve probably played the most of. I mean heck, in my hardcore world alone I’ve spent calculated around 150 hours in it, and that’s just in one world. It really makes me believe minecrafts probably the game I have breach the 1000 hours played mark in, but I’ll never truly know since there isn’t any way I know of to find out