A Matter of Time

I have never been what one would consider a religious man.

If I believed in God or Merlin, Time, or whatever "All Mighty Force" controlled the universe, then that would mean that certain things were supposed to have happened.

If an omniscient, omnipotent being existed, then that meant that this war that destroyed the only place in which I've ever felt at home was supposed to be destroyed. My parents were supposed to die. I was supposed to be raised as a charity case as a result of that. I was supposed to be somebody's pawn in a game where the rules changed every year. I was supposed to loose my godfather, my best friend, and too many other people important to me to count. One more has just been added to the list. I'm supposed to find comfort in the same Unseen Force that saw fit to take away anything that ever mattered to me? I'm sorry, but that's not comfort. It is just trite, cold idiocy.

Here I am, in front of Arthur Weasley's coffin. It's much smaller than I imagined it. At least the Order pooled enough money together to bury him in an oak coffin instead of a pine one. I can see the 'why?' question etched on the faces of the remaining Weasley family members, but I have stopped asking 'why' a long time ago. At three o'clock this morning, I woke up in a sweat, but it wasn't because I was trying to make sense of all of this. It was because it only made sense. This is something I should've seen coming since my second year when Lucius Malfoy put Tom Riddle's diary in with Ginny's schoolbooks. He had to have done it that day in the bookshop just after Mr. Weasley and Lucius Malfoy had gotten into a row. I wish I could take some kind of comfort in 'The Greater Good,' that Mr. Weasley's death could have some kind of meaning attached to it.

"At least Lucius Malfoy was dead," people have said to me, including Remus Lupin. There will be much less suffering in the world now that he's gone. But then, I remind myself as I look down at the coffin, death only needs a reason for the living.

I wish that I could cry, but I can't. Screaming might be cathartic, too. But screaming or crying makes it all real, and this isn't real. 'Any minute,' I try to convince myself, 'I'm going to wake up now and this is going to be a very bad dream, and I'll get up and go about my day.

This is different from when Ron and Sirius died. When they died, it was the sort of anger that flowed through the marrow of my bones. There was never an initial shock, just this intense need to make someone pay for what had happened, and it was the first time I'd ever wanted someone to hurt as much as I was hurting. I'd executed Voldemort using the Death Curse because I was so angry at the death of everyone who'd been taken away from me. Ron Weasley and Sirius Black were two more on the list of people I wanted Voldemort to pay for.

I am not angry now like I was then. There is nobody to be angry with. Lucius Malfoy killed him, but eventually died during the struggle. I'm not in shock or disbelief or denial, either. Shock and disbelief aren't exactly what I'm feeling right now, either.

I am just numb. And I want it to stay that way.

Out of no-where, someone's arms wrap around my waist, and that's the first thing I'd felt since the news reached Twelve Grimmauld Place. I know that it's Ginny from the smell of her hair and the sound her voice makes when her breath hitched in a sob. I can't bring myself to return the gesture. If I put my arms around her, that makes it real, and it can't be real.

I am also aware of someone's hand on my shoulder. I think it is Hermione.

I can't tell you how long we stood there like that, or how we made it to the cemetery, because I'm uncertain of that detail myself.

And then we all go to the cemetery, and Arthur Weasley is laid to rest.

After the funeral, we all Apperate to The Burrow. Everyone's there with wooden voices and puffy eyes. Even Percy's there with his wife Penelope. I just kind of stand on the edge of the crowd, watching everyone, not really wanting to talk. It seems that everyone thinks I am made of glass and takes turns glancing at me to see whether or not I've broken down yet.

I can't take it anymore, so I go outside and sit underneath a willow.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Ginny asks, plopping next to me underneath the tree where I was sitting.

I don't say anything for a long time.

"You know," she says as if the idea never occurred to me before. "Voldemort is gone. This wasn't your fault. Lucius Malfoy and my father had it in for each other since my second year."

"How can you be so calm about it?" I ask her. "He was your father!"

Ginny's chin trembled and I know I said the wrong thing. "You're not the only one who's hurting, here," she says in a low, angry tone.

I get to my feet and wandered back into the house. I could hear people talking in the kitchen.

"Mum, do you need help getting everything in order?" Percy is asking.

"No, thank-you, Percy," Molly Weasley says without her usual cheerfulness. I'd never thought of her as old or frail until I saw her at her husband's funeral. I let out a sigh as I remember that this is incorrect. She was that old and frail at her son's funeral, too. "I think everything's under control," she tells her sons.

I'm just outside the kitchen window. I learnt fifth year that this was the best place to hide but still see everything.

"You're more than welcome to stay with Tonks and me," Charlie says.

"I need to stay here, Charlie, dear, there's so much to do," she answers.

"I'm not going to say 'I told you so,' here, because this isn't the time nor the place," Percy says, "but have you ever thought what our family would have been like if Harry hadn't..."

"GET OUT!" Molly screams. I know it's not me on the receiving end of this rant, but it stings nonetheless. "GET OUT AND NEVER SET FOOT IN MY HOUSE AGAIN!" It's not directed at me, but still, I'm not going to split this family up more than I all ready have.

Percy doesn't need to finish the sentence.

He is right.

Percy isn't the only one who would never be setting foot inside The Burrow any time soon.

I can't be here anymore. I sneak out the back and sprint down to the main road of Ottery, St. Catchpole to catch The Knight Bus back to my flat. I'm on assignment tomorrow in Belgium. It'll be easy to sneak out.

I hope it takes awhile for everyone to realize that I am gone.