For the Bingo Card Drabble Comp: Rose Weasley, "The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake"


A faint, somber smile tugs at her lips. "Hey, Hugo. How's it going?"

She moves forward. "Lily and Scorpius finally stopped dancing around each other. If the rumours flying around are right, she invaded his Transfiguration class, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him right in the middle of the lecture." She laughs. "And the Sorting Hat put her in Slytherin; that's what I don't get — it was a total Gryffindor move."

She kneels down and sets the plate on the ground.

"Grandmum made you lemon cake again. She knows it's your favourite. I don't even have to ask any more — she just knows." Rose smiles sadly. "They think I'm crazy, Hughie. They think I need to stop coming to see you. Uncle George, I think, is the only one that really understands, and even then he doesn't quite — but then, they all think he's crazy too, so I suppose that's not really much help."

A small sob escapes. "I miss you, Hugo. Every day, I miss you. And I don't understand how they do it, I don't understand how they keep on living when I feel like I am… half of a whole. There was a piece of me inside of you and you took that piece with you, Hugo, you took it when you went… wherever you are now and I just…" And her shoulders shake with the force of her sobs as the dam finally bursts. "It isn't fair," she sobs. "It isn't fair; it isn't fair. Why did it have to be you?"

After too long, the sobs finally stop, and then, gradually, so do the tears. "I don't know how to do this without you." Her hand reaches out, touches the damp headstone.

Hugo Weasley

October 17, 2006 - May 21, 2020

Much more than a name

"It isn't fair, Hugo. It isn't fair, but no matter how many times I say that it doesn't change it."

After a moment of silence, she whispers, "I miss you. I miss you being there for me. I miss that jack-o-lantern grin of yours. I miss being able to talk to you about everything. I miss the way you brought us together. I miss the days mum and dad didn't fight, the days she didn't blame him for you being… gone. The days he didn't blame himself." She sniffs. "We need you, Hughie. We need you because without you something is missing, and we can't get it back."

Her hands trace the letters of his name almost absentmindedly.

"I'm glad he's dead, you know. I know I shouldn't be. But he deserves it, for what he did to you. It isn't fair, that you should… suffer for revenge on Dad."

And Rose hates the fact that she still can't say the word dead. She still can't acknowledge out loud that her brother is dead. Her little brother, little Hugo Weasley, with his too-bright eyes and too-wide smile. He was only thirteen, only thirteen years old and it isn't fair, it isn't right.

Five months later and she still can't accept it.

Another sob breaks loose. "I love you, Hugo. I love you. I miss you." A deep breath. "Happy Birthday, little brother."

She stands up gingerly, pats the headstone one more time.

She turns around, takes two steps, and freezes. She almost turns around, but she forces herself to keep moving, in the same way that every single day she forces herself to keep living.

She doesn't look back at the forlorn piece of lemon cake, sitting on the ground in front of a grave.