Who: Roger Davies and open to anyone who wants to attend Will's funeral. When: Wednesday morning Where: Manchester, Will's parents' house. What: Will's funeral service/reception. Rated/Status: Low to start, Incomplete and open.
It seemed like half of Will's hometown had turned up for his funeral. His family and childhood friends packed the pews of the church, while those from magical lineages did their best not to look out of place at the Muggle service. The official cause of death had been an automobile accident, and the casket closed. Everyone kept talking about the tragic accident that had taken Will from them, and Roger wanted to scream that it wasn't an accident. It was those fucking W.A.P assholes and they were the ones that deserved to be in that box going into the ground.
He'd kept it together pretty well during the service, too numbed by grief to do much more than sit there. But when it was his turn to speak, to talk about his best friend that he would never see again, never drink with again, never laugh with again- Roger lost it. In front of everyone, gripping that stupid little podium like it was the only thing solid left. He managed to get through what he needed to say, but it still wasn't goodbye. Will was already gone. It was too late to say goodbye.
The reception following was even worse. Seeing Will's mum so sad, having people offer their condolences. Roger just wanted to go home, but home didn't feel like home anymore. The house was empty without Will's shite everywhere, his dishes in the sink, beer bottles everywhere. Home was somewhere Roger had to find again.