Perfectly in Pieces

Chapter 55: Ginny

TW!! - Depictions and discussions of gore, death, and abuse.

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"Is there anything else we should put on his plaque?"

Ginny barely hears the question addressed to her. The rough nudge at her side is what really makes her blink back into the real world.

The world she doesn't want to be in.

Not one part of her belongs to it anymore.

All the pieces worth living for aren't here.

She looks up from the finger she is grasping between her other hand tightly, to the people surrounding the table. "Sorry, what?"

A frustrated huff from Aberforth is heard over the forceful drop of his quill. "Ms. Weasley, you knew him better than anyone else here. Is there anything you think should be added to his? We are all needed at the ceremony soon, and I would like to be able to finalize the memorial plaques before this meeting ends. Even though he will not be buried today as requested."

She can't help the scoff that leaves her throat. A meeting to finalize the burials for those of them who hadn't made it. A group of survivors doing ridiculous things to try to make the absences, the lives, what they gave into something grand.

Trying and failing to make it enough.

To honor them.

What a load of rubbish. It was all just to make the living more comfortable. A selfish act in her opinion.

The dead didn't care. They weren't here anymore to care. But the survivors were. Maybe shit like this helped some people with their grief. Maybe she was being cruel and a cynic. But this didn't help her.

Placing words in exchange for whole lives would always fall short.

That is what she is currently being forced to attend. Another fucking pointless meeting to wade through. That forces her to exert precious energy she was trying to save for more important matters. It was draining to have to pretend. Pretending to be here in this room.

Like she actually cares about what words get placed for people to skim over on their way to buy supplies for their new job, or books for their children's school year, or any other normal event that everyone would be able to do again with this second chance they had 'won'.

It was already starting to happen.

5 days. It had been 5 days since the war ended.

5 full days of events, ceremonies, speeches, parades, photos, and life.

People returning back to before.

But not her.

No.

She is still on that floor.

She is still holding Theo. Watching his eyes close.

In those few moments.

That is where she has been.

Because some moments last longer than time. They are more than that. More powerful than numbers, and light and dark. They transcend breaths, and the world spinning, and the people moving.

Always moving.

Moving forward they keep telling her.

Moving to a better tomorrow.

But tomorrow for her will be the same as today.

And the day before that.

And the day before that.