springsmutfairy (springsmutfairy) wrote in hp_springsmut, @ 2009-03-06 07:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, het, neville/fleur |
Happy springsmut, florahart!
Author: lyras
Recipient: florahart
Title: Starry in the time of our darkness
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Neville/Fleur
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Following the deaths of their loved ones, intrigue and the ghosts of the past bring Neville and Fleur together.
Warnings: Character death (before the story starts).
Word Count: 9,000
Author's Notes: This is epilogue-compliant, but interview canon is largely ignored. The title is from 'For the Fallen' by Laurence Binyon; a verse of this poem is quoted in the story. florahart, I really hope you like this! Thank you to my beta-readers, L and E for making a real difference to the story.
The double funeral was quiet, but Neville wanted it that way and he suspected that his gran did, too. Aside from the family - Algie and Enid, a cousin of his mother's whom he'd encountered on the ward without ever learning her name - there were just a few old friends.
Neville threw some lilies in with the soil that was heaped onto the two coffins, and endured his gran's fingers clawing his arm as they became lost to view. Then he marched through the graveyard, head high, Gran at his side, to await the mourners at the gate.
Minister Shacklebolt was among the first. Neville had always known that his parents had once been friends with Kingsley Shacklebolt, but encountering him here was still a shock. The Minister for Magic shook his hand and told him how very sorry he was before moving on with his tide of security wizards.
Andromeda Tonks had come, an eerie shade of the woman who had tormented his teenage nightmares, and so had her lanky grandson, which was kind of him. Next was Hannah, who gave him a long, hard hug and told him to Owl if she could do anything before hurrying away. He then ran the gauntlet of the Weasleys and their various spouses: Ginny and Harry, Ron and Hermione, Fleur...
When she held out a hand and said, "I am so sorry," Neville felt as if he was being pulled ashore after a long, deep dive.
"Thanks," he said. "Er, I'm really sorry, too. About Bill."
"I know." The brief richness in her voice betrayed her brittle self-control, and he released her without trying to prolong the conversation. But when he reviewed the funeral later, he was touched that she'd found time for his family amid her own tragedy.
Thanks in part to the many Muggleborns who had lost relatives in the year of Voldemort's rule, the wizarding world had co-opted Muggle Remembrance Day as a way of paying tribute to the fallen. This year, Neville took his grandmother to visit the graves and held her while she pretended not to cry. Back at Hogwarts that evening, he gathered more armfuls of poppies from Greenhouse Twelve (his own contribution) and scattered them over the memorial that had been erected to the dead of Hogwarts. The snippet of poetry that seemed to be everywhere these days echoed in his mind.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.