(no subject)
*in his bedroom, without a candle lit*
*sits on the very edge of his bed, and rubs his eyes with the heel of one palm* When did I get so old? *pauses in the rubbing to pour two fingers of whiskey down his throat* More importantly,
when did they? No one gave my family permission to grow up. -I- certainly didn't.
*sighs, and as he sets down the empty glass he picks up the Daily Prophet* *doesn't need a light to know what it says, now* I feel like his father, sometimes. Ron's, and like Ginny's for that matter.
A whole generation off -- comforting Hermione, friends with Harry's godfather. Merlin. *chucks the paper to the ground and pads over to the window, staring out at the sky*
"Y'know, Ron, I taught you how to fly." *feels a bit silly talking as if Ron were here, but considering... it does just as much good right now to say it to the window* "Well, more or less. You got ahold of my broom and Charlie and I pretended we'd taught you to keep Mum from boxing our ears for letting you muck about. I told her you'd taken right to it. 'That's a Weasley for you', I said, and 'always scraping by, just barely out of trouble' was her response." *laughs at the memory, holding back a prick of tears* "After she left, Charlie and I gave you a good thump about that, and Mum came back and gave US a good thump about THAT."
Mum. I should go look after her. I'm sure Da and Harry and Hermione are doing just fine, but... well. So much for sleep.
*with ease of long practice, he walks over to his closet and packs an overnight bag without any light at all* "I hope you remember that. I'll be thumping you again if you don't come out of this, and soon."
*sits on the very edge of his bed, and rubs his eyes with the heel of one palm* When did I get so old? *pauses in the rubbing to pour two fingers of whiskey down his throat* More importantly,
when did they? No one gave my family permission to grow up. -I- certainly didn't.
*sighs, and as he sets down the empty glass he picks up the Daily Prophet* *doesn't need a light to know what it says, now* I feel like his father, sometimes. Ron's, and like Ginny's for that matter.
A whole generation off -- comforting Hermione, friends with Harry's godfather. Merlin. *chucks the paper to the ground and pads over to the window, staring out at the sky*
"Y'know, Ron, I taught you how to fly." *feels a bit silly talking as if Ron were here, but considering... it does just as much good right now to say it to the window* "Well, more or less. You got ahold of my broom and Charlie and I pretended we'd taught you to keep Mum from boxing our ears for letting you muck about. I told her you'd taken right to it. 'That's a Weasley for you', I said, and 'always scraping by, just barely out of trouble' was her response." *laughs at the memory, holding back a prick of tears* "After she left, Charlie and I gave you a good thump about that, and Mum came back and gave US a good thump about THAT."
Mum. I should go look after her. I'm sure Da and Harry and Hermione are doing just fine, but... well. So much for sleep.
*with ease of long practice, he walks over to his closet and packs an overnight bag without any light at all* "I hope you remember that. I'll be thumping you again if you don't come out of this, and soon."