Country: United Kingdom
April 30, 2020
06/11/2021 01:08 PM
“You can’t be in here, Weasley!”
“He’s my son!”
“Exactly why you can’t be in here!” her colleague shouted back at her, causing the entire room to go silent and turn towards Molly.
She stared at everyone - each of the faces she was in charge of - knowing good and well that if she broke these rules she would lose the respect of them all.
She didn’t know what to do.
This was her child!
There was her son. Her darling boy, lying there - covered in blood spewing out of gashes he'd received from what was believed to be a freak incident with dragons - and she was being forced to walk away and watch from the sidelines.
“I’ve got it, Molls.” It was the voice of Richard Reynolds. The man whom she hadn’t spoken much to since he tried to ruin her marriage, who broke her out of her trance. Months had passed since Arthur and Molly worked out their differences, but the sting of how Richard treated her during that time? It remained fresh.
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
Molly turned towards him. Her eyes were filled with fear and tears.
His eyes were filled with a promise. ‘I’m going to save Percy.’
“He’s in good hands.”
She was so afraid.
She’d lost so much in her life, but she couldn’t go through the pain of losing another child.
Richard let go of her hand and drew his wand from the pocket of his bright blue scrubs.
Molly watched as he stepped into action. He looked to the team of Healers and Potionneers. Andy being one of them. “What the hell are you all looking at? This boy needs medical attention.”
Molly forced herself out of the trauma room and into the long corridor which led to the waiting room.
She was overwhelmed with fear.
What if something happened to Percy?
What if Richard was only saying he would help him?
What if Percy died?
Her head and world were spinning in circles and all she could do was stand outside of the room, staring in through the window and watching as Richard took point - shouting commands towards everyone, flicking his wand wrist over Percy.
There was blood everywhere.
There was so much blood.
She wanted to go back inside and help.
She wanted to save her child.
Just as she was about to do what she wasn’t meant to do, she heard shouting coming from down the hall in the waiting room.
“That’s my brother in there! You let me in. IT’S MY FAULT THIS HAPPENED!” It was Charlie’s voice coming from the waiting room.
Molly had wondered when he was going to arrive from Romania. The travelling Healers informed her, her other son was stuck dealing with customs due to the nature of the attack, and it was probably going to take awhile before he arrived.
Molly made way down the long hall. She pushed open the double doors and looked to the Welcome Witch. “He’s with me.” It was all she said in her ice-cold tone, as her eyes darted towards Charlie.
She grabbed her child by the arm and guided him down the many corridors until they were both in her office.
The door slammed and she turned to face her son. “What the hell happened in Romania, Charlie?!”
Molly knew she shouldn’t have been talking to her son this way, but she was furious!
She had been telling Charlie for years and years that working with dragons was serious. It was not something she wanted him doing, but she’d made her resolve with him, but bringing Percy into the mix? Was he completely mad!
“Mum- I’m sorry!” It was clear Charlie was full of distraught. As he should be! He looked exhausted - sick even. “I didn’t. . I looked away for one moment. I was - - he just wanted to see the dragon up close. I thought, ‘why not’, you know? I- I’m sorry, mum!” Tears began to fall from Charlie’s eyes.
Molly’s eyes were wide. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
HE ALLOWED HIS BROTHER INTO A CAGE WITH A DRAGON BECAUSE PERCY WANTED TO SEE ONE UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL?!
She started to laugh in a mad sort of way.
Molly Weasley was truly going mental.
“You thought, why not? Why the hell not allow my brother into a cage with an untamed beast!” Molly was furious. “Does no one care that Fred died?! Does no one give a damn about how much losing one of you truly has effected your father and I?!” Molly lost it at this point. She was so angry. “Did I really raise idiots?!”
“I WAS TRYING TO HELP!” Charlie shouted back - a vein in his forehead popping when he did.
“HELP?! Darling. Help is coming home and taking Percy out to the Leaky Cauldron for a Pint - NOT PLAYING WITH DRAGONS!” Molly stared at her son. There was such fury in her eyes. She was so angry towards this entire situation. “Since you obviously have no idea how to actually help our family, stop trying.”
Molly’s fury remained, but she managed to calm herself down.
Charlie said nothing. It seemed as if he was trying to work out what she was saying.
Molly was quiet for several moments. Her eyes never left Charlie.
Was this really her child? Her little boy? All grown up? Not thinking about the repercussions of his actions? Was this really someone she raised?
"You were never there before, Charlie." She finally broke the silence. “You made your choice to leave this family and live your life. . . and I accepted that. We all did.” There were tears in her eyes now. “. . . so stop trying to help us put it back together.”
Molly brushed past Charlie, heading for the door.
She turned her attention towards him one more time before taking leave from her office.
“The one thing you can do is alert your father as to what's happened.” She paused for a moment, trying very hard not to allow her emotion to show in this moment. She didn’t mean the anger. She loved Charlie so much! She was simply tired of their family not catching a bloody break. “. . . and then you should go back to Romania where you belong."
03/05/2021 04:59 PM
S E A S O N S.
** a few updates since the first post.
- Richard Reynolds is actually Molly's first 'lover' (lol) at Hogwarts. They were teenagers and they (lol) 'dated' in their fourth-early fifth year. It was Arthur, who Molly had been best friends with since their first day at Hogwarts, that actually professed his love to Molly on Valetine's Day - after he insulted Richard in front of her. Molly hexed Arthur for being an arse, but later told him she felt the same and the two of them have been together since 1966. This makes for a stronger story as to why Arthur would actually date McGuiness - if Molly is going with old 'flames' (lol) . . .then he truly believed she was moving on.
- It's been two months (sixty-one days) since Molly and Arthur spoke last. I got my dates wrong because I SUCK at math. XD
- When Molly was rehired on at St. Mungo's, she was actually given her former position back - the one she left in 1980 after her brothers were killed. The Minster for Medicine loved her and had been the same one several years prior. She is Head Healer of the Department for Accidents and Emergencies. She's hot sh*t.
- Per the HC shared, 'Scrubs' are the required uniform for the Emergency Department - not just attire Molly preferred to wear. She normally would be in her white coat, as well, but I decided that there would be times she wouldn't walk around with it on. This happened to be one of those times.
* * *
A Time to Heal
S E A S O N S
Part four. They say there are five stages of grief.
M A M A B E A R
For the last eleven months, Molly wrestled with each and every stage of grief. . . save for acceptance.
She stayed far away from acceptance.
It was the acceptance that Fred was gone which was hard for her to swallow.
Accepting Fred’s death would mean she was admitting defeat that she was unable to save her son.
Accepting her son was gone would make it true.
Accepting the loss of Fred would mean he was actually dead.
She’d done all the things in grief.
She’d run and hid from her life.
She’d left her responsibilities and family behind.
She’d cried more than she’d ever done so before.
She’d gone days without eating.
She’d returned to and buried herself in work.
She’d wrestled with the question, why did I live whilst he had to die?
She’d done everything in the name of grief to try and make sense of Fred’s death.
She’d lost her voice.
She’d lost her fire!
The bold and courageous Weasley Matriarch had lost herself in the grief of it all.
. . . but for everything there was a season. a time to keep silent, and a time to speak.
“I don’t know who the bloody hell you think you are, Reynolds...but if you dare speak to my mother out of term once more I will curse you so hard you’ll be praying you were never born. It’s obvious you’re displaying an even graver conflict of interest when it comes to the care of my father.
“I don’t trust you have the skills or the capacity to handle the seriousness of this matter. Now, why don’t you march yourself out of my father’s room before I make you do it myself, hmm?”
“And her name is Molly Weasley you bloody prat. Now run along, and take Miss McGuiness with you...this room is for family only.”
Richard rolled his eyes and ignored Ginny’s threats whilst he and Molly’s resident went on to examine Arthur.
He waved his wand over the patient, closing his eyes and silently moving his lips to a chant.
Molly knew this to be a magically in-depth scan - a Charm, if you will - to listen to the inside of the body to truly know what was going on with the injured.
‘It appears he’s stable,’ began Richard. ‘They’ve loaded him up with all the Potions needed to keep him that way.’ He looked to Molly. ‘It seems as though his heart simply . . gave out. . . for a moment, and, honestly, we’ll just have to wait until he wakes to assess long term damage.’
Richard looked to Arthur’s leg which bore a casting.
‘The tumble he took down the stairs was a nasty one. They were able to set the bone back in place, but with such an intense fracture, they’ve casted it to keep it set - in case we need to perform the Spell again.’
Richard returned his attention to the resident who shook his head.
‘No sign of bleeding on the brain, but we’ll keep him here under observation for a few days to monitor any changes.’
Richard smiled that nasty smile of his.
Molly could tell, he was loving this - seeing Arthur, the man who stole Molly away from him - in his eyes - all of those years ago during their time at Hogwarts - now lying in the bed unconscious with Richard as his Healer, Arthur now depending on him to save his life.
‘Most likely some short term rehabilitation is in order, but for now? We wait.’
Molly stared into Richard’s eyes. This was someone whom, even after their split from a teenage romance at Hogwarts, Molly had remained friends with him.
This man had been her colleague throughout the entirety of their internship, residency and fellowship before they each went their separate ways in medicine.
This had been someone she once trusted and cared for as a friend. . . and now he was someone she loathed more than just about anything - other than Madeline and Fred’s death.
Why did it seem that everyone in her life was changing?
How was it that someone she thought she could count on, could end up being such a heartless arse?
This made Molly ponder. . . is that what Arthur thought of her?
Did he feel his wife was someone he could no longer count on?
Did he see her as a heartless arse?
Obviously, he felt that way in some capacity or other - it’s why Madeline McGuiness was here.
‘We’ll be back to check in on him in a little while.’ Richard motioned for the resident to follow him out from behind the curtain.
Molly looked to her family. ‘I’ll be back.’
She eyed Bill and implied with her expression for him to watch over Ginny before following her colleagues out of the room.
‘This is the perfect opportunity for you to get yourself assigned to a different case, Richard.’ Molly crossed her arms and stopped when she was outside and out of the way of the oncoming flow of staff.
‘And why would I do that?’ Richard laughed, waving the resident off, who left them there, whilst he stopped to turn and look at Molly. ‘I gave you a perfect assessment of the damage.’
‘Yeah, you stated the obvious, and you were enjoying every minute of witnessing Arthur lying there helpless!’
Richard smirked. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’
‘Get off it, Richard. Assign yourself to a different case.’
‘I think I’d rather watch you squirm, Mollz.’ He flicked his pointer finger up and under her chin, forcing her to look directly up at him.
‘Don’t touch me!’ Molly swatted his hand away. ‘I’m Head Healer of this Department, and I deem you ill fit to look after my husband.’
‘You’re the grieving wife of a man who no longer loves you.’ Richard drove his words in. ‘You are ill fit to be making any sort of decision.’
How dare he.
How dare he insult her in this way - all because he wanted something he couldn’t have? All over some vendetta he’d obviously been harbouring for years and years since they were practically children, and carrying out his anger when what he hoped would happen with Molly in recent events did not.
Molly reached in her pocket for her wand and drew it out - just as Ginny had.
She was growing tired of being insulted, and now that she was out of the room and away from her family and the constant reminder of the mistakes she made, she was much more confident.
‘Give me a reason.’
Richard chuckled. ‘Like mother, like daughter.’
‘And proud of it.’ Molly ignored him and pressed on. ‘If you won’t listen to me, Reynolds, then you can march yourself to the Minister for Medicine’s office and report to him that you are ill fit for duty entirely, and I’ll make sure to sign off on that inquiry when they come around asking if I agree with this decision.’
‘All talk, Prewett - no action. It’s why your family is in there moving on without you.’
That did it.
That bloody did it.
Molly did something so childish in that moment - something that later on she would be slightly humoured over but mostly appalled at herself for stooping so low as to do something she would scold her children for.
‘Eat slugs, Reynolds.’ Her tone of voice remained low when she spoke, but held an intense ferocity, as she enacted the jinx.
A light spark shot from her wand and attacked Richard in the chest.
He stepped back a little and looked up at her like ‘did you seriously just do that?’
Next thing Molly knew, when he tried to speak, he was vomiting slugs.
‘That’s for my daughter.’ She slyly grinned - in the same manner he’d done her when he spoke the words ‘your precious Arthur’. She leaned forward just enough (but far enough away to dodge slugs) and spoke in a dark, low tone. ‘Don’t underestimate a heated Weasley, Richard.’
Molly returned her wand to the pocket of the scrubs she wore.
‘When you’re done, you know-’ she paused, leaning back and gesturing toward him and his sickness whilst a disgusted expression appeared across her lips, as she watched her magic come to life through him. ‘-you will have yourself removed from Arthur’s team of care, or I promise you, vomiting slugs will be the least of your worries.’
Richard tried to respond, but he began gagging up another slug. It was then when he turned and quickly disappeared down the corridor.
Molly rolled her eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt a spark of hope that - even with her marriage in complete shambles and her family falling apart, standing up for herself felt good - she was going to be alright.
‘I’m not going anywhere! Put that wand down!’ It was the sound of Madeline’s voice from behind the curtain that alerted Molly back to the reality of her children in the other room with their father and his . . . whatever she was. . . that brought her back into action.
‘Ginny. . .’ Molly breathed out heavily and rushed inside to make sure her children were alright.
She saw Bill trying to calm her youngest down.
Molly made her way over to Ginny to relieve her oldest from his duties.
She stood in front of her daughter, keeping Ginny’s wand from doing anything she would regret once this was all said and done. They had enough on their plate, and the last thing Molly needed was her youngest on trial, facing life in Azkaban, for murdering Arthur’s . . . whatever she was.
Madeline stood tall, staring at Ginny like an indignant child when their mother told them no.
‘I’m Arthur’s partner.’
Madeline’s eyes moved to look at Percy now - almost as if they’d shared words - and maybe not the most pleasant of one's - prior to their time spent here at St. Mungo’s.
‘He needs me here to make decisions.’
Her eyes remained fixed on Percy.
Molly was finding herself growing with frustration and protection toward her son with the way this woman was staring at him.
Molly took notice of just how uncomfortable Percy looked.
‘It’s not like you children are competent enough to do so.’
Madeline never stopped staring - no , glaring - at Percy.
. . . but it was that comment.
No. That damned insult toward her children! Molly was growing bored of the insults!
That bloody insult that left Madeline’s lips - the woman who was meant to be Arthur’s. . .whatever she was! - and the way she stared at Percy - Molly’s son - that rose a fire - the roaring lion, the mamabear - which had been suppressed in grief of losing Fred almost a year ago now - up and out of the fiery Weasley Matriarch.
Molly stood ten times taller as she shared a glare of her own.
‘I beg your pardon!’ She stepped forward. Though, she made sure to remain in the path of Ginny’s wand and close enough to react in case her daughter decided to do something she would later regret.
The confidence was growing in Molly.
Life was returning to Mrs. Weasley.
It was as if every bone in her body rose from the dead - as if she’d been temporarily hibernating - and all of sudden the act of someone speaking against her children brought her back to life again. Not to mention, Richard’s insults in the hall really didn’t help when it came to remaining silent for much longer.
‘I can assure you, if you wish to remain Arthur’s . . . partner . . . speaking to his children that way, will get you nowhere.’
The confidence was rising inside of the witch more than it had in months. And she realised in that moment, that Arthur was not her driving force.
It wasn’t Arthur that kept Molly going, but her children.
She wasn’t her husband’s keeper. Arthur had to figure out his life on his own.
Yes, she could be there to support him, but she wasn’t his saviour. . . however, she was responsible for her children.
‘Not to mention, you won’t live long enough to be anything more than a rotten memory - that terrible taste in our mouths we think on and laugh about years from now - if you dare speak another word against my family.’
After murdering Bellatrix in order to save Ginny and losing Fred, Molly wasn’t afraid to take the life of anyone who dared harm, threaten or attempted harm against her children.
She would proudly stand trial for her crime and spend life in Azkaban.
Madeline looked even more unpleasant than moments before.
‘He chose me. I make his decisions.’
Was she really that daft to ignore a death threat and only focus on the fact that she was the one that Arthur was giving attention to in his time of grief?
Molly drew her shoulder’s back even further, and she smirked.
A soft yet dark laugh left her lips.
She began with a reply to Madeline’s first comment.
Her stance was tall but her tone was soft, graven even. ‘Well, then. . . you are the luckiest witch in all of the Wizarding World.’ She truly meant that. ‘-but in the eyes of the law - I’m his spouse, so, legally, I’m his Proxy and make all decisions regarding his care.’
‘Separated, dear. Not divorced.’
Molly paused a moment and stared at Madeline.
She truly was as daft as she appeared. Seriously, Arthur?
This woman had been. . . ‘dating’. . . Arthur for a little over a month. It was a laughable concept to Molly who had given Arthur. . . it would be thirty-one years in July.
Madeline was nothing but a speck of dust on the timeline of Arthur’s life. . . but not everyone saw time in that way. . . and it was clear Madeline lived in her own world - not in touch with the reality of the outside one, where she’d chosen to be with a man in a rocky marriage - one which came with the weight of many grown and stubborn children.
‘Legal Separation is the act of taking time apart from one's spouse to decide as to whether or not you can work out your differences, or if it’s time to move on.’
‘He’s moving on.’
Madeline took hold of Arthur’s hand.
‘He told me so.’
. . . for everything there was a season. a time to get, and a time to lose. Molly did her best to suppress the heavy sigh which threatened to rise up and out of her at the comment made by this infuriating woman.
She wanted to ring Madeline’s neck.
She wanted to smack her until she bled!
She wanted to shout to the world, ‘I MADE A MISTAKE! ONE BLOODY MISTAKE IN THIRTY YEARS… but I still love him.’
‘He’s my husband.’
. . . but that part of the fire - that part of the will and the fight she had within her - that light she held for Arthur, it was dying out.
He was moving on.
He was finding comfort in someone else . . . and Molly wouldn’t ever stop him from being happy.
Molly knew he’d moved on just by the expression she witnessed on Percy’s face as her son stood there and appeared to be terrified by whatever it was that happened before he arrived at the hospital.
She knew by the way Madeline glared at Percy when she spoke about being Arthur’s person.
Percy didn’t even have to tell her.
Molly already knew . . . because a mother knew everything before words were ever spoken.
She had no interest in the details of what happened.
She didn’t need to know. Her worst fears and nightmares could do that for her.
She made her resolve in that moment. It would be up to Arthur to decide the fate of his life and marriage and family.
Molly knew she loved him.
She knew she wanted to be with him, but it was up to Arthur to decide when he was ready.
He’d given her the time grieve, and now she’d give him the time to decide what sort of life he wanted to live after all of this - one with his family . . . or one with his mistress - because that’s what Madeline was.
‘That’s his choice, then. . .’ Molly finally replied. ‘. . . and when Arthur wakes, he can share with me his decision and present me with the divorce papers - that I will sign.’ He deserves to be happy. ‘. . . but, for now, as his legal spouse in the eyes of the law, my job is to be here to ensure he’s properly taken care of in regards to the decisions made for his health, and to look out for the well-being of his six children-’
She’d said it.
She’d finally said it out loud.
Whilst Fred’s memory would always live on, they no longer had seven children.
They had six.
It was finally sinking in. They say there are five stages of grief.
‘. . . and you can stand there, hold his hand and pet his partly bald head and make sure he has all the comfort he needs whilst he’s fighting to come back to you and his six children.’
It was this comment which made Madeline appear as if she snapped out of whatever thoughts she’d been in moments before.
She looked to each Weasley and bonus-Weasley before she rushed out of the room.
Molly closed her eyes and she finally let out that heavy sigh she’d been holding in.
‘Damn it, Arthur.’
Her head shook, her attention returned to the world whilst her eyes landed on her husband lying in that damned hospital bed once again.
Molly took a moment to compose herself, removing her hair from the ponytail, allowing her wild mane of curls to fall down her back - to help stop the pounding ache behind her temples.
She made her way over to Arthur’s bed, retrieving her wand, and doing a scan of him herself - because she didn’t fully trust Richard.
She took the time to truly study Arthur - beyond the scanning Charm. She hadn’t seen him since sixth February - his birthday . . . No . . . she hadn’t truly seen him since second May of the previous year.
. . . because that was the last day her eyes had been able to see anything past her own miserable grief.
She was finally seeing her husband for the first time.
Though he had recently turned forty-nine, he looked much older.
The years were catching up to him.
There were bags under his eyes - he was actually forming wrinkles - which was so uncommon for a witch and wizard at this stage in life - as they didn’t age in the same way as the Muggles . . . but war. . .
Bloody f’ucking war.
It hadn’t been kind to Arthur.
It hadn’t been kind to any of them.
It had been so cruel to their family.
Molly placed her hand against Arthur’s cheek once she replaced her wand in her pocket. Her thumb caressed his skin, and she smiled for just a moment as she looked down at him. Even though war had aged this infuriating man, he remained just as handsome as he did when they first fell in love.
She wanted to help him. . . but there was only so much she could do.
She wasn’t able - not allowed, it was policy - one that would never be broken for even the most beloved of faculty - for one to care for their family.
It was a conflict of interest.
It was dangerous.
It’s why Molly had been forced all of those years ago to watch Gideon die on the table without being able to help in aiding in the attempt to save his life.
It’s why, when Ronald had been born with complications, she had been made to sit back and act as the terrified mother and wait for the ’professionals’ to save her child.
It was the reason when Arthur was attacked by Nagini - though, she’d no longer worked at St. Mungo’s at the time, but she wanted to ‘Scrub up’ as they say, and work to help in curing the wounds he’d obscured - they forbade her from doing so. (That’s not to say she didn’t sneak and do so anyway - this was Molly Weasley: the rebellious woman who had a terribly difficult time hearing the word ‘no’.)
. . .but Molly had spent years acting as the support on the sidelines to her family when they found themselves here at St. Mungo’s - injured, sick, and / or unwell.
She’d grown used to the ‘standing and waiting’ - and, of course, sneaking in Healing Charms and Spells when no one was looking and working on Brews at home and bringing them in via her bag, that would help to aid them in their recovery.
She had found her own way to work on the sidelines and do so discreetly.
She would do that all over again. . . but what really bothered her. . .what hurt in all of this - what made the sick churn in the pit of her abdomen was: the fact that she wasn’t even able to be here as Arthur’s wife through all of this.
She wasn’t his wife.
She was. . .but. . . she wasn’t either - not in the way she wanted to be.
Legal separation had given her husband the opportunity to reach out to another to find comfort in.
Molly’s role in his recovery was to use her knowledge as Healer to help save the man she loved, and to act as the supportive mother to his six children, who were terrified and unsure if their father would ever be the same again.
That was her role for Arthur.
It’s not to say she wouldn’t do what she always did and try and help him on the sidelines - when heads were turned and eyes were on other patients and more pressing matters - she would most definitely help him. . . and she swore she would make all the decisions needed to bring him back to his family. . . but it wasn’t the same.
. . . for everything there was a season. a time to break down, and a time to build up.
After making sure Richard had been telling the truth, Molly turned to look at her children.
For the first time in nearly a year, she saw them.
They appeared so broken.
They looked completely defeated, and it broke Molly’s heart as the realisation swept over her that she and Arthur had truly abandoned them in the last eleven months due to their own grief.
The sight of their broken faces . . .oh, it made Molly want to buckle over in agony.
Ginny looked as if her final gasket was about to blow, and if one more person spoke out of turn, Molly was afraid her daughter would explode.
Percy looked as if he literally had seen a ghost - - but also? His eyes held nothing inside of them. He appeared to be the walking dead version of himself.
It was terrifying to witness.
Bill and Fleur looked tired and worn - they’d been the ones who opened their home and had dealt with Molly the most.
Charlie wasn’t there, but that was normal. It always took him longer to receive word when something went wrong with the family.
Ronald was passive. Oh her dearest Ronald - his dramatic outlook on life rivaled that of Ginny’s. Not that Molly wasn’t taking his pain seriously - she was! She hated seeing him so angry and over it all.
Harry and Hermione - oh the poor dears. The sight of them there warmed Molly’s heart, but it also made her sad. They both appeared tired and worried. It was quite clear, the pair of them had put up with far too much Weasley family nonsense in the last year. . . and was that really fair to them? They’d been grieving the war and the loss of plenty of people they loved too.
George looked the worst of them all.
He’d spent his first birthday alone without his best friend, his partner in crime. . . his twin, just a few days prior to this one.
He hadn’t come home to celebrate.
Molly hadn’t either.
What sort of mother did that to her child?
Even though George hadn’t been at the Burrow, Molly should’ve been there with their favourite cake made and decorated.
She should’ve celebrated the life of George - another blessed year with him alive - and the memory of Fred, even though he was no longer there. . . but instead, she was at Shell Cottage grieving the fact she didn’t have Fred.
How bloody selfish was that?
She had to do better for George . . . and for all of her children.
She never wanted to be the reason they were in pain. She never wanted to see any of them in this much agony ever again.
She was their glue - the glue who had dried out for a while in grief - but now that the moisture was returning, she would become that sticky substance they could cling to once more.
Molly promised herself in that moment moving forward, she would never be the reason they were in pain like this ever again.
She stood tall - like the mother they knew her to be - and accepted her reality.
Fred was dead.
Arthur had moved on. . . for now.
. . .but Molly remained the mother to their six children, and she would make sure they knew she was there for them.
She would make sure they came to a place of acceptance in this new reality the Weasley family unit had found themselves in.
‘Your father is going to be okay.’ She looked towards all of them as she worked to adjust the sheets of Arthur’s bed to tuck him in. ‘He’s a strong man, and, as you know, has pulled through far worse than this.’
to be continued . . .
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|Mar 1st 2021 - 5:53 PM |
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-squints- Madeline...ugh. I was fuming reading her scene. The family has gone through so much tragedy and her concern seems to be solidifying her place. Swooping in on a married, grieving man. With grieving children. And then she's not even freaking nice or warm to the kids. She's sparring with people who have lost their brother. Fighting with a mother who lost their son (how twisted do you have to be to do that. Even if you are the new girlfriend. Talk about selfish. Talk about lacking compassion. Gah!). I hope she winds up eating something even worse than slugs (I loved that part by the way haha!). There's no empathy. Arthur beyond downgraded here.
This is a beautiful piece. You capture so many different layers of loss. The loss Molly is experiencing is a tragedy that no one should have to endure and then the suffering still continues. The loss still continues. You see it with how Arthur is now with this.... -clears throat- You see how Arthur is now with Madeline (gag). You see how her relationship with George is struggling. I love how you capture this harsh reality of loss. Loss goes beyond one person, it can strain so much. She's lost her husband. In some ways, she's losing her other children. I'm all about that dynamic with George. I'm so interested in that layer. He looks like Fred. There's so much pain looking at him, and him having the same birthday, everything is...well...identical. Where do you go from there when your own child is a constant trigger of your suffering? Where does that child go losing their twin and knowing they're a trigger for their mother? No one is doing any of this on purpose. It's just suffering. Suffering wrecks havoc.
I love how you don't go into a ton of detail on the stuff with George right now. She knows she needs to do something about it, but how? So, it just sits back there, hauntingly. It's this added, important piecing, that lingers in the background of your story like a ghost waiting to be seen. It really just creates the tone for their story. Not too much. Not too little. Enough that, again, it's just haunting.
So, I just love that.
I love this addition. It's beautifully written. You've done such an amazing job as always. I can't wait for the next part!!
|ℱerret. || |
|Mar 1st 2021 - 2:09 PM |
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That beginning before Ginny starts speaking... wow.
My heart literally broke.
Finally, glad Reynolds got something done to him! (He deserves worse, but I'll take it!)
Arthur's... whatever she was is infuriating. She needs to go.
She’d said it.
She’d finally said it out loud.
Whilst Fred’s memory would always live on, they no longer had seven children.
They had six.
It was finally sinking in.
Ouch, my feelings.
Honestly, this entire post was amazing and full of so many emotions. I absolutely adore your writing. 👏👏🐍
|Dragon Seeker || |
|Feb 27th 2021 - 3:04 PM |
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-is at the bargaining stage with you three- Just stop hurting my heart!
- Nope, I lied. That opening has put me right in the depression stage. Because my god, Accepting her son was gone would make it true < That broke me in every way. I just wanna hug Molly!
- AHHH you’re picking up right after Ginny snaps!
- He ROLLED HIS EYES at Ginny? :O Does he not see that Ginny is like a second away from ripping his eyes from his head and then ramming them down his throat?
- It seems as though his heart simply . . gave out < -protects Arthur- I take back all the horrible things I said! Ok maybe not all but most!
- Molly could tell, he was loving this - seeing Arthur, the man who stole Molly away from him - in his eyes - all of those years ago during their time at Hogwarts - now lying in the bed unconscious with Richard as his Healer, Arthur now depending on him to save his life. < If this man hurts Arthur, I swear Charlie will ride in on a dragon and just....just know there will be blood and tears!
- Exploring Molly’s past, her old relationship and friendship with this Richard is great. To see how quickly her view of him changed because he’s now showing his true colours -applauds-
- She eyed Bill and implied with her expression for him to watch over Ginny before following her colleagues out of the room. < -snorts in laughter- Because Ginny’s is about to take a bitch out! I really like that Ginny is the one she thinks needs to be watched. She knows Ginny so well, can see she’s about ready to explode
- Punch that smirk off his face!
- ‘I think I’d rather watch you squirm, Mollz.’ He flicked his pointer finger up and under her chin, forcing her to look directly up at him. < He’s a dead man walking
- HOW DARE HE INDEED!
- YASSS! She has her wand out, she’s going to make this pig-headed twat cry!
- Molly did something so childish in that moment - something that later on she would be slightly humoured over but mostly appalled at herself for stooping so low as to do something she would scold her children for. ‘Eat slugs, Reynolds.’ Her tone of voice remained low when she spoke, but held an intense ferocity, as she enacted the hex. < I am screaming! Childish, maybe. Well deserved, F*** YES! How D A R E he speak to her like that and think he could get away with it
- she paused, leaning back and gesturing toward him and his sickness whilst a disgusted expression appeared across her lips, as she watched her hex come to life through him.< I see so much of Ginny in this and love it! Really is the mother like daughter. And yes, never underestimate a heated Weasley!
- Molly rolled her eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt a spark of hope that - even with her marriage in complete shambles and her family falling apart, standing up for herself felt good - she was going to be alright < -screams in a fit of joy-
- -snickers- Ginny is still after this woman. I can just picture it so perfectly
- Molly was finding herself growing with frustration and protection toward her son with the way this woman was staring at him. < Smack a bitch down! Percy has been through so much!
- ‘It’s not like you children are competent enough to do so.’ < HEY! Bill is very competent, probably the only normal one at the moment. But that dig....I hate her. I felt a little bad for her in Percy’s piece because he was just vile to her but f*** her
- that rose a fire - the roaring lion, the mamabear - which had been suppressed in grief of losing Fred almost a year ago now - up and out of the fiery Weasley Matriarch. < I just LOVE this! That moment, that second she sees someone going after her children Molly’s claws come out. THAT is the Molly we all know and love
- Seeing that fire come back, her realise that it’s her children that give her that flame, that Arthur needed to sort himself out as well is just breathtaking! The way I have been seeing it in these from all three of you is that everyone, not just Arthur, relied on Molly after the war and she couldn’t take it because she had no one to turn to. Her kids needing help is one thing but Arthur should have been there for Molly because they are a team but I feel like he fell into the habit of Molly just always being the ‘healer’ of family issues
- Was she really that daft to ignore a death threat and only focus on the fact that she was the one that Arthur was giving attention to in his time of grief? < I’m just dead because of this and Percy comparing her to a mountain troll trying to figure sh*te out
- I agree, seriously Arthur? You went from a powerhouse named Molly to a dimwit?
- ‘He’s moving on.’ Madeline took hold of Arthur’s hand. ‘He told me so.’ < Whhhaaaat? No -sobs- tell me it isn’t so! Tell me this is a bunch of lies!
- She wanted to shout to the world, ‘I MADE A MISTAKE! ONE BLOODY MISTAKE IN THIRTY YEARS… but I still love him.’ < I’m going to address this massively in a ramble below but I feel this in my heart! Mistakes are not easily forgiven by Weasley’s
- but that part of the fire - that part of the will and the fight she had within her - that light she held for Arthur, it was dying out. < -sobs and locks Molly and Arthur in a room- No coming out until you fix this! Ya hear me!
- I hate this but 47824784848922893% agree. Arthur is the one who made a new relationship so he is the one who will have to decide. And I love that Molly will give him time to decide, she won’t push him. Because why - Molly is a QUEEN!
- my job is to be here to ensure he’s properly taken care of in regards to the decisions made for his health, and to look out for the well-being of his six children- < SEVEN! -clings to Fred- But she finally hit that final stage. I’m not crying, my eyes are raining
- and you can stand there, hold his hand and pet his partly bald head < -dies laughing and crying- You show exactly where Ginny gets her fire and Percy his god damn sass
- I love that the number of kids keeps getting put out there to this lady, because if she thought for one second that she was just to get Arthur and not the entire clan, she had another thing coming
- Molly looking at Arthur.....seeing just how much he’s been affected as well by the war and losing Fred. Just leave me to wallow in my misery!
- It’s why Molly had been forced all of those years ago to watch Gideon die on the table without being able to help in aiding in the attempt to save his life. < WHAT. I begith your pardon! -flips a table- As if you haven’t killed us enough you add in this line of beauty. Poor poor Molly. AND THEN RON! WHAT!
- For the first time in nearly a year, she saw them. They appeared so broken. < I want to go through every kid and highlight how powerful you wrote her seeing them but this is already a novel. She’s seeing how uncontrollable Ginny’s rage is becoming. She’s seeing Percy’s depression. Bill and Fleur’s exhaustion. Ron, who is just so angry like Ginny but in a different way. Harry and Hermione, who are like her children that are trying their best to keep two of her children from breaking. And George, the worst off of them all, she’s seeing him and not just what she lost but his pain. It just hurts and YES is making me really think about Charlie and where he would be
- but Molly remained the mother to their six children, and she would make sure they knew she was there for them. < -gives a standing ovation-
-throws a suitcase on a table- Let’s unpack this sh*te, alright. This was a masterpiece. It was art! You have cut us so deep, left that wound open and like healer Molly you are slowly stitching us back up with this piece. Molly’s fire and fight returning to her, it blew me away! You took us through the stages of grief with Molly, from the very moment she locked herself up in shell cottage to now, where she finally says that Fred is gone and accepts it and SEES George and how much damage this has caused him. And it hurts, even her acceptance hurts because it makes us have to accept it as well and I’m not ready, I will never be ready! But you wrote this and expressed it with so much emotion that I’m reeling.
This as a whole group thing is just, I’m awed. Because Ginny and Percy each branched off yours with their own powerful pieces and you came out with this, that binded them all together. You continued on from Ginny’s with Molly putting herself in the way of Ginny again, protecting her baby and finding that fire. You hinted at what Percy explored in the moments before Arthur’s heart attack and I’m terrified of the foreshadowing here for Ginny and Percy. Ginny who is a cannon, dangerously ready to go off. Percy who is just now beyond a simple realm of depression with newfounded guilt. You placed things in that really just drive home how turbulent the Weasley’s are even so far after the war.
AND for the ramble! Molly’s one mistake! YAS! OMG YAS! Okay so this stuck out to me because it’s been something I’ve seen highlighted in some of Percy’s pieces after he left the burrow. Molly gives off this air of perfection, much like Percy though no where near as annoying, but to her family she is bloody perfect. So when she makes that one tiny mistake in a moment of hurting (so much like Percy) it is being held against her. Ron who doesn’t even invite her to his birthday, Arthur who immediately lashes out by dating this other woman that he knows will bother Molly. And as much as it pains me to say it, I think Charlie would be more angry at Molly than Arthur. To me, this is so powerful because as I’ve discussed with Percy before, only certain Weasley’s have their mistakes held against them and it is the ones that are viewed as ‘perfect’. I’ll shut up about this now, but just know I’m freaking pumped over how powerful and brilliant it was that you pointed out that she made one mistake and that is didn’t undo the past how many years with Arthur.
I WANT to keep going on and just screaming to the sky about how amazing this was but I’ll stop here otherwise we’ll find out if comments on bulletins have a word limit XD Just know, you’ve hurt me and you’ve inspired me!
|Head Prat || |
|Feb 26th 2021 - 4:38 PM |
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Three times....three times I've read this and it kills me a little more each time but also gives me so much hope!
You expand on Molly's stages of grief in a powerful and moving way. And the whole reason behind sating away from acceptance is a stab in the heart because it is real. No parent should outlive their child, should ever have to bury a child and here is Molly, someone who has already lost most of her own family, now losing the one she created.
Molly's interaction with Richard, or as I am now and will forever be calling him, man-baby. I just loved it! He is what makes her snap out of that depression and say 'no more', that she isn't taking this sh*t lying down anymore. And the slugs jinx! THAT was just *chefs kiss* He touched Molly, made her look at him like she was nothing but an object and had to be obedient and the slug jinx was an act of mercy! I just keep thinking about Arthur, had he been awake to see that how he would have forgotten everything, not a care in the world he just had a heart attack and beat the sh*t out of Richard for ever laying a finger on his Molly. And the background you gave between them, how Richard has this hatred for Arthur from their teens because Arthur loved Molly and Molly loved him, not Richard. It makes Molly and Arthur so much stronger as a couple while making us hate Richard and not trust him because he clearly has issues with letting go.
And onto Madeline....that COW! That evil, despicable, wretched little cow! The way she is looking at Percy, the glare she has locked on him and that Molly just knows something went down prior to this. How her looking at Percy like that sparks another fire that only grows as Madeline goes to insult all of her children. "That bloody insult that left Madeline’s lips - the woman who was meant to be Arthur’s. . .whatever she was! - and the way she stared at Percy - Molly’s son - that rose a fire - the roaring lion, the mamabear - which had been suppressed in grief of losing Fred almost a year ago now - up and out of the fiery Weasley Matriarch." I was cheering for Molly. And we keep getting Madeline's incessant 'he picked me', her refusal to hear what Molly was saying to her because then she would have to see the reality that Molly was still very much in love with Arthur and he would drop Madeline faster than a dung bomb. We discussed in private why I thought Arthur was behaving the way he was and it is amplified in all of your writing. He loves Molly to the end of the world and everyone knows is.
Hitting the acceptance stage.....this was the saddest part of them all. It broke my heart, decimated my soul and anything left remaining was put through a shredder. Molly finally hit that stage, finally said those words that made it all real to f***ing Madeline and it just infuriates me. It was perfect, beautifully done I just hate that Madeline was there but it makes perfect sense because Richard sparked that fire to fight and Madeline brought it to full flame when she attacked her family. It should have been a private moment but Madeline the cow ruins everything XD And having Molly look at her family, really look at each on as an individual and see the horrific impact the war and all of this was having on them. I didn't think I could hurt anymore but 'Percy looked as if he literally had seen a ghost - - but also? His eyes held nothing inside of them. He appeared to be the walking dead version of himself. It was terrifying to witness' MY POOR PERCY! That hurt but nothing compared to George. My heart bleeds for him and every beautiful line you wrote about him and his pain. He lost everything when he lost Fred and now he is facing the possibility of losing his father as well and god. My soul!
YOU are amazing! And perfection. Your writing was just stunning and I've been captivated in this whole saga you've created from the very first drabble you wrote when she left. You breathe so much life into Molly, which I say all the time and will never stop saying because you ARE Molly Weasley. You understand her, gave her life beyond just Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mum. I cannot wait to explore more of this and everything else we are plotting! YOU ARE PHENOMENAL!!!!
|⌜cнérιe⌟ || |
|Feb 26th 2021 - 10:11 AM |
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I so in awe of every piece that you post, your take on Molly and her life is so well written and thought out.
What else can I say apart from that I love this, and it breaks my heart?
Because in real life, we all wanted to be a Weasley and through the books, you assume all is well and that they would live happily ever after. Which of course is not true, because life isn't like that.
But like you said through your status just now, the non-magical things aren't easy and can't just be fixed with a swish of the wand.
Thank you for writing this, and the previous piece.
02/20/2021 05:36 PM
S E A S O N S.
A Time to Heal
There is a saying regarding seasons of one’s life that is known throughout the world and realms, and it goes a little something like this . . . ‘to everything there is a season. . .
and a time to every purpose under the sun.
a time to be born and a time to die.
a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which has been planted.
a time to kill and a time to heal.
a time to break down, and a time to build up.
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together.
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing.
a time to get, and a time to lose.
a time to keep, and a time to cast away.
a time to rend, and a time to sew.
a time to keep silent, and a time to speak.
a time to love, and a time to hate. . .
. . . a time for war,
And a time for peace.’
Molly hated war.
So much had been lost over the last two wars. . .
Her brothers had been killed.
She left her job as a Healer in order to protect her family from the one thing she hated . . . war.
What was the point of it all?
What was the point of her staying home. . . leaving what she loved in order to protect those she cared for most in this world. . . only to have her child taken from her at the end of it all?
It seemed ridiculous now. . . and along the way, she lost a part of herself.
Molly spent weeks hidden away at Shell Cottage.
She remained in her room for days on end - not eating, not drinking, not doing anything but lying in bed or sitting in that bloody rocking chair thinking about how she hadn’t been able to save Fred.
She spent months and months brooding and wasting away into basically nothing but skin and bone - which was nothing like the Molly everyone knew and loved.
The powerful, courageous, brave and bold Matriarch had lost herself in grief.
She’d pushed her husband away, her children away - save for Ginny, Percy and Bill - and now she was left with nothing but a memory of who she had once been.
To the outside world, her and Arthur were the perfect couple.
They loved each other.
They had a large family they couldn’t always provide for in the most lucrative of ways, but somehow made ends meet.
Molly believed their love was idolised. It made her heart happy to know her children and their friends had a couple to look up to when shaping their own relationships, but what was not always shown through those rose-coloured glasses her children wore, was the sadness and heartbreak that was slowly building up because of the war.
Molly and Arthur loved one another so much - that was certain - but the war and the toll it was taking on each of them individually had been slowly growing and growing over the years, and the final straw for Molly - the final point of break - was losing Fred to the war.
She wanted to be with Arthur, but she couldn’t look at her husband without seeing Fred in those matching eyes they shared. . .and Arthur’s smile. . . oh, Fred took after his father in so many ways.
The twins always looked like a younger version of Arthur.
Molly hadn’t even been able to spend much time with George - and she hated herself for admitting it - but it made her sick every time to see his face because all she saw was Fred.
What sort of a person . . .what sort of a mother thought that way?
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her family.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hold George in her arms and tell him everything was going to be okay. . .
It wasn’t that she didn’t want Arthur’s comfort. . .
It wasn’t any of that.
She wanted them so bad!
It was the guilt and shame of how her grief had taken so much from her. . . it was that which kept her away.
It was the fact that looking at her family made her think of the one person she could not save. . . and she hated herself for that.
It’s what started her journey of self-discovery. It was in her pursuit to find herself that brought her here to St. Mungo’s, working as a Healer once again.
. . . but it was in her pursuit to find herself that she was beginning to lose herself even more than before.
Because yes, Molly needed an identity outside of her family and being the ‘homemaker’, but her family had always been her driving force - her reason for getting up in the morning - and now without them, she was finding herself lost in work.
She hadn’t even spoken a word to Arthur in (and yes, she knew the exact number of days) sixty-one days . . . because after returning to the hospital, she reconnected with an old colleague who had invited her out for a drink.
It was harmless. . . for her. He wanted more, but Molly was a married woman and would never cheat on Arthur.
She just wanted. . . to feel something with another human (and she wanted that person to be Arthur but of course she was too bloody stubborn and terrified to go home!) and that was why she had agreed, but the problem with her choices (other than the obvious: she was a married woman) was . . . she was the mother to the now famous Ronald and Ginny Weasley, the best friend and girlfriend of Harry Potter, and someone who very quickly became quite popular in the various Wizarding Papers and Tabloids - including the Prophet - once being spotted at the local pub sharing a pint with a man who wasn’t her husband.
This wasn’t the woman she knew herself to be.
This wasn’t Molly Weasley at all.
She wasn’t the type to end up on the front page of a scandalous magazine.
The scandal brought publicity to St. Mungo’s - which the higher ups and the hospital appreciated due to lack of funds coming in to help aid the Ministry for Medicine thanks to the war.
Though, anyone who knew Molly personally, knew, the scandal, the grief, and the mess she’d made of her life was killing her inside.
The last two months and one day - sixty-one days - had been the worst of them all.
In her anger during one of her outbursts toward her mother for being so daft and not coming home to her dad, Ginny informed Molly that Arthur had begun dating a colleague. A woman Molly had known for years had her eyes on Arthur and had been waiting for an opportunity to sweep in and make him her own.
She knew why he moved on . . . because of her mistake.
He was angry.
He was hurt.
He was lonely.
He was sad.
He was grief stricken. . . and he felt his wife had abandoned him.
The once strong and impenetrable Weasley pair had been broken all thanks to their grief and stubbornness in not coming home to each other.
Molly knew this was why he chose to do what he did.
. . .but he never knew the full story.
He never knew she didn’t allow anything further to develop from that night.
He only knew what the tabloids told him that. . . THE MOTHER OF RONALD WEASLEY, BEST FRIEND TO HARRY POTTER, SEEN OUT WITH A MAN WHO IS NOT HER CHILDREN'S FATHER. . . for more of this juicy inquiry, read page 7. (Even in war and the loss that came from it, the news didn’t care about whom they did or didn’t hurt. All they cared about was a sale.)
Molly knew in Arthur’s anger he read page seven.
She knew he read the lies and speculation.
. . .and she knew it was in his anger and hurt and the feelings of betrayal he inevitably harboured, that he chose to find the comfort he needed in someone else.
She knew it was why they were now legally separated.
Molly didn’t even blame him.
He had been patient and waited for her.
She had been the one who continued to push him away.
Molly Prewett Weasley.
The woman who was looked up to by so many children whom she cared for had made a mess of her life. . . and had gone from role model to example of “who not to be” overnight.
. . . all because she allowed the grief of her son’s death to take over. . . and snuff out all the light she had left to keep her going in life.
. . . but for everything there was a season. A time to kill and a time to heal. . .
And as the emergency bay doors of St. Mungo’s opened. . . Molly’s - and the Weasleys in general - time to heal and mend what had been broken and lost was about to begin.
“What have you got?” Molly asked as she stepped forward to greet the resident working on her service.
She was standing in the middle of the corridor just outside of where the madness was taking place, where she preferred to be presented to before actually stepping inside so she could focus on her patient rather than the busyness that was St. Mungo’s Department for Accidents and Emergencies.
The resident looked nervous - which was odd, seeing as he was normally one who was quite sure and . . . almost cocky even . . . when it came to presenting cases to Molly.
He was always the one who was obviously trying to prove himself to his mentor, so if he was having a hard time spitting out whatever it was that was going on with this patient. . . something was not right.
“Oh enough nonsense, already!” Molly went for the chart, but the resident pulled back so she couldn’t have it.
Molly’s brows raised in shock.
Her arms crossed over her chest, and she now glared at the young man.
“If you have any intentions of keeping your job, I suggest you hand over that record.”
The resident did as he was told, but he looked pale. . . ill even.
Molly was genuinely perplexed by the entire endeavour.
She didn’t even open the file before speaking once more. “Calm yourself, dear. It’s only a patient. If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe you were about to tell me someone from my family was - -”
Molly’s words faded into the background.
Her entire world slowed down and came to a complete halt as the facial expression on the resident confirmed the words she had only been speaking as a mere joke.
Her heart began to race faster than she knew what to do.
Her mind was mush.
She tried to move but her legs were nothing but jelly.
Fabian died in the field of war.
Gideon died on the table from war.
Her mother died from the grief of losing her favourite sons to war.
Her father died from dragon pox.
Bilius died from dragon pox.
Fred was killed in the war.
. . .hadn’t she suffered enough grief in one lifetime?
Who could possibly be next? DON’T THINK LIKE THAT!
Molly shoved the chart back toward the resident and flew down the corridor and through the entrance of the Emergency Wing.
She stopped and stood in the middle of the Department as soon as her eyes landed on her family arriving through Apparition - some together and some apart - she mentally listed each one of them who arrived . . . as if she was doing a headcount to see who in Merlin’s name was not alright!
Percy was first.
Bill and Fleur came second.
Next there was Ronald, Hermione and George. . . Molly had to fight the tears when she saw them.
She hadn’t seen her boys in quite some time, and George. . .oh George.
She couldn’t help but struggle to fight the sick feeling which tried to arise within her at the sight of George.
All her mind allowed her to see was Fred.
YOU ARE A HORRIBLE MOTHER. Molly gulped back the bile which rose in her throat at the sight of him. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?
Following, came Harry, and, finally, Ginny, who rushed over to the hospital bed where someone in their family was clearly unconscious.
A person whom Molly had yet to lay eyes on.
She didn’t see Charlie.
Was it Charlie? NOT CHARLIE. NO. IT COULDN’T BE. . .BUT IT COULD BE! HE WORKS WITH DRAGONS. HOW MANY TIMES DID I TELL HIM I DIDN’T WANT HIM GALLIVANTING ACROSS THE WORLD WORKING WITH THOSE DANGEROUS BEASTS??!!?!?!?! She began to panic, but had yet to find the courage to move, and just when she convinced herself it was Charlie, her eyes landed on Madeline McGuiness - Arthur’s new. . . whatever she was - who arrived and rushed over to the bed, kissing the forehead of the patient, whom Molly could now see clear as day was her husband.
Molly’s everything. . . sank.
Her head spun at record speed.
She also had a strong desire to hex that woman for daring to touch Arthur with her lips!
TO EVEN BE NEAR THE MAN SHE - MRS. MOLLY WEASLEY - LOVED.
HER HUSBAND - - THANK YOU VERY MUCH!
She didn’t blame Arthur for his actions in grief, but she sure in Merlin’s name blamed that bloody woman for stooping so low as to date a married man whilst his relationship with his wife - the mother of his seven children - was in crisis.
A person should know when not to date another, and this was one of those times that even in legal separation, it was not right!
. . . but all she could do in that moment was worry about his safety.
She didn’t care if he didn’t love her anymore.
She didn’t care if they never worked out their differences.
All she cared about was that the love of her life was going to make it out alright.
“Arthur. . .”
Apparently, his name left her lips louder than she expected because at that very moment, the heads of those whom she loved - though was mostly estranged from - all turned and stared at their mother - even Madeline looked her way.
Molly stood there wide-eyed toward all of them.
From where she stood - on the other side of her family and her husband’s new . . . whatever she was - Molly felt as if she was on the outside looking in at the life she once had - at the life she was meant to be living again.
She was dressed in sky blue scrubs - because after one too many instances back in the day when she worked as a resident where projectile vomit and other bodily fluids were constantly flying about, she learnt never to wear anything but scrubs when working a shift in the Emergency Wing.
Her long mane of curls was pulled back into a ponytail.
She wanted so badly to step forward and meet her family and inquire what happened, but she was so afraid. . .and at that very moment, another attending, Richard Reynolds - the man whom she’d gone to the pub with - arrived to take on the case.
“I think it’s best I handle this one, Prewett," he said eyeing Molly as her resident - who she would scold later- handed him Arthur’s chart.
Molly cringed when he referred to her as ‘Prewett’.
She didn’t have any qualms with her former Surname. She had a problem with Richard using it as a slap in the face because he knew she’d lost her husband after their outing together and was now barely holding onto her children.
After she rejected any more outings offered by him, Richard had been awful to her, and made it a point to call her by her Maiden name rather than her married Surname.
She knew it was just his way to add salt to the wound and to make his own pride feel better for being turned down.
“You know the rules regarding family, Mollz.”
She felt herself cringing again - only Arthur and a few others were allowed to call her that.
Back in the day, before Richard turned into a complete cockwomble, he was one of those few Molly considered a friend, but now that he had done a 180 flip and become a completely different person, he was nothing to her any longer - well, other than an absolute pain in the arse!
Normally, she would’ve fought back and told him never to speak to her in such a way - she held a higher rank than he did, after all - but there was not much of a fight left in Molly.
She was tired of everything.
“Not to worry, though. Your precious Arthur is in good hands.” He flashed her a sly smile - one that made her want to vomit up sick all over him.
Due to the state of shock and horror and fear and embarrassment and shame and guilt and pain and grief she felt, the normally strong and bold woman, who wouldn't dare allow this arse of man anywhere near her husband, the Matriarch and Healer was paralysed before everyone whom she loved and hated as Richard approached her family and went on to inform them all that Arthur had a heart attack.
To be continued. . .
11/30/2020 08:24 PM
A soft breeze blew across the meadows which ran along the River Otter just outside of the little town of Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon.
The bright green grass swayed in the wind. . .and when it hit the blades just so. . .they sang.
The sound of rushing water was a perfect base to nature’s song - even the birds sang along.
The warm air felt wonderful and was a much welcomed temperature this time of year.
It was a perfect and peaceful Summers day.
Well. . . outside, anyway.
There was nothing peaceful about the happenings currently taking place in the Weasley Burrow.
Percy Weasley was currently chasing Fred and George around the house.
“Give. Him. Back!” he shouted toward his younger brothers, who were currently running around the house tossing Percy’s rat, Scabbers, back and forth between each other.
“Got to catch us first, Perce!” shouted George through a laugh.
“Good luck!” added Fred. “Georgie, think fast!”
Fred, who was currently holding a very fat and skittish, and ‘bitey’, Scabbers, tossed him to his twin. George, with another great laugh, leapt forward to catch him.
Percy grunted and did his best to intervene. Though, he stumbled a bit as his sights had been set on Fred before he’d tossed the rat to George.
“I’m serious! Give him back!”
“I thought you didn’t even like him.” George added just before looking to Fred. “Go long, Fred.”
George leapt up onto the sofa and just as he stepped up on its back, he tossed Scabbers back to Fred, who was now standing on the other side of the room next to the clock.
Scabbers flew to the other side of the room just as Percy managed to reach George. He was very red in the face - it was quite obvious he was angry.
He looked to Fred, who now caught Mr. Scabbers and back to George who was still laughing.
His face grew angrier and angrier with each moment that passed.
“Careful, Perce.” Began George. “You’ll explode if you get too hot.”
That apparently did it because next thing both Fred and George knew, Percy jumped forward, tackling George from the back of the couch and onto the ground. He began screaming nonsensical words toward his brother as his fists went flying about. (Just because they were a magical family didn’t mean they never fought physically. Besides, none of them were old enough to use magic outside of school.)
“Ay! Ger’off me!” George grunted as he fought Percy’s punches with some of his own.
“Oy! Percy! You’ll hurt him!” cried Fred.
Scabbers was all but forgotten. Fred released the rat, who scurried away, and ran to his twins aid.
He grabbed Percy from behind and yanked him off of George. Just as he went to make sure his twin was okay, Percy threw a swing at him.
“UGghgh” Fred grabbed nose as blood immediately came gushing. “Percy, that hurt!”
Just as George went to defend his brother, a loud scream from behind them - a shout that would cause any child’s hair on the back of their neck stand and goosebumps to rise.
“WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” It was their mother.
Her hands were on her hips whilst her eyes were glaring at all three of them.
She was not amused.
“They started it!” Percy shouted toward his mother.
“I don’t care who started it. You obviously decided to finish it.” Molly made her way over to the three of them. “The lot of you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” Percy shouted. “You raised them.”
Molly went silent. Her eyebrows raised. It wasn’t like her children to fight back when they knew they’d done wrong. She was their mother, and there would always be a level of respect they would meet her at, especially Percy.
This wasn’t like him.
“You heard me.” Percy challenged. “I hate them! I hate you for giving birth to them. I hate being apart of this family. I wish. . .” He paused for a moment.
Molly was staring at Percy. She was totally and completely dumbfounded.
“I wish I had never been born!” With that, Percy disappeared from the living room. Molly only knew where he was going by the loud ‘Bang!’ of the kitchen door that followed moments after his departure.
The room was silent for a moment. Molly couldn’t believe Percy of all of her children. Percy. The one she could count on to always listen, to always obey, to always be level headed about things. . . Percy . . . had said those things.
Her heart clutched in her chest, and it was the fact she knew she had to heal Fred - after checking on Percy - that saved her from allowing his words to truly sink in as far as they could have.
She was a strong witch. She could handle a great deal of pain, but she spent her whole life taking care of her children - her family - to hear that one - - even if they said so in their anger - - blamed her for giving birth to her sons . . . that one wished she’d never birthed him at all - - oh it hurt the witch. . . but she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell.
Her children needed her.
Molly’s attention turned to Fred and George. She waved her wand toward Fred and chanted a soft Healing Spell under her breath. The bleeding immediately stopped.
“Kitchen. Now.” Molly instructed the pair of them. Her wand waved toward the stove, turning the eye on of the one where the kettle sat. “Fred. Take a seat. George, you watch the water. Take it off the stove as soon as it boils. I’ve now got to fix that crooked nose your brother has there.”
“Yes, mum.” The pair of them did as Molly instructed.
“I’ll be back in a moment. I take it the pair of you can manage to behave yourselves whilst I’m away.” Molly eyed both of them.
Fred and George both let out a groan and replied in unison. “Yes, /Mum/.”
Molly stepped outside of the Burrow.
(“Wicked battle wound!” she heard George praise Fred.
“Right?! I got a glimpse of it in the mirror on the wall. I almost wish she’d let me keep it.”)
Molly shook her head and rolled eyes just before shelooked out amongst the vast land for Percy.
Oh, Percy. She truly did hurt for Percy. He wasn’t like her other children. He was sensitive and sweet and Molly absolutely loved that about him. . .but it didn’t make it easy in a houseful of wild and self-assured brothers.
It didn’t take long for her to find Percy, who was skipping rocks in river. He wasn’t really skipping . . .it was more like violently throwing.
“I don’t believe the fish have ever done anything to you to merrit such violence against their waters.”
Percy turned round. Their eyes met. Molly saw how sad his looked and it broke her heart.
She shared with him a sympathetic look.
“I hate Fred and George.” Percy spat.
Molly stepped a little closer to him. She took a seat on one of the rocks by the river.
“I hate that for you.” Molly’s attention never left Percy’s. “Brothers are such a wonderful gift the world has to offer. I would give anything to have my brothers here with me.”
Percy’s expression changed. He looked down toward his feet for a moment, becoming really silent.
“You mean. . . Gideon and Fabian?” Percy’s head drew upward and his attention returned to Molly when he asked the question.
Molly nodded. “I don’t like to expose you children to the sadness of that time, but sometimes, like now, it is important to remind you that in an instant . . . someone you love can be taken from you . . .and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Percy looked away. It was almost as if he was ashamed to give Molly eye contact.
“My brothers meant the world to me, but let me tell you. . .growing up in a house full of stubborn boys, I had to learn to be very headstrong and stubborn myself. They would get on my nerves beyond belief.” Molly let out a soft laugh and shook her head as she thought back to the times Gideon and Fabian annoyed her to no end. “There were days I even - and I’m not proud of it now that they are gone - would pray to Merlin wishing they would be turned into girls or taken away, but. . .”
There were tears in Molly’s eyes now as she thought about her brothers. Percy’s attention returned to her.
“. . . but now, now that they are gone. . I-” Molly straightened her posture as it had slouched a little when she grew emotional. She pulled herself together and cleared her throat. Her eyes locked on her son. “I would give anything to have them back - stubborn, strongwilled, pains in the arse, and all.”
Molly held out her hand and waved for Percy to come closer. She took both of his hands in her own. “I understand you and your brothers are very different, and I would never ask my children to be anything other than themselves, but I am urging you to - even when you don’t wish to - to love your brothers - because. . .life is too short, and at the end of the day, family is all we have.”
Percy didn’t say anything his mother in return. He simply stood there in silence for a few moments. It was clear he was contemplating and working things out in his head, but the next thing Molly knew, he leapt forward and wrapped his arms around her.
Molly closed her eyes and hugged her son tight. “I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t in this world, Percy.” She drew back and placed her hands on each one of his cheeks. “We aren’t the Weasley’s without our Percy.”
Percy smiled. Molly returned the smile. “Now. Let’s go inside so I can fix your brother’s broken nose and bake the lot of you trouble makers - even though you don't deserve it - some cookies.”
Percy beamed and took her hand, and the pair of them made their way back inside the Burrow together.
07/31/2020 04:10 PM
The Casualties of Grief. 
Molly honestly didn’t know how long she’d been sitting in the rocking chair by her window, staring out into the oblivion.
Time was becoming somewhat an irrelevant concept to the woman.
Molly was numb in a lot of ways. She felt completely drained from not only losing her son, but losing herself and pushing away the one man who had been there for her through it all. Not to mention, causing an apparent uproar in the lives of all of their children.
She didn’t blame them, really.
Molly knew her choice was wrong, but she was so bloody stubborn at times, she couldn’t bring herself to go home.
The air of exhaustion which took over her was quite the burden and took a toll on her thinning body. She, Molly Weasley, the woman who was always feeding others and kept a well-fed figure herself, was thinning out into nothing.
She didn’t want to eat.
She didn’t want to drink.
She didn’t want to get up.
She didn’t want to go on.
She didn’t want to breathe.
She wanted Fred. All she wanted was Fred.
There really was nothing but fading life left inside of her.
Bill had attempted to speak with her.
Fleur had attempted to speak with her - even bringing in Victoire as a hopeful incentive to bring back some semblance of life, Molly knew, to the Matriarch they all counted on.
Percy popped by, but he didn’t try to speak sense into her. In fact, on the contrary, he acted as her friend - a shoulder she could cry on whilst she grieved.
He didn’t make her speak.
He didn’t ask her to explain herself, and maybe that was because he understood what it was like to be in such pain so great that not even those she loved could help her now.
She held onto her Percy all evening, letting out a few silent sobs in between sleeping and merely sitting there staring. . . and he allowed her to do so, not asking her to be anyone else for him.
Ronald, oh her sweet, sweet Ronald had stopped by with flowers earlier that very morning and love from both him and Hermione. He was so awkward in his approach to get her to listen, but Molly appreciated the gesture, and she appreciated Hermione’s reminder to bring her flowers.
They now sat in the vase beside her.
She didn’t even ask her youngest boy to stay longer than he felt comfortable, knowing this was hard for him, and she even encouraged him to go and spend time with his father that evening. Even if she wasn’t able to see Arthur, she didn’t wish for her husband to be alone.
Molly had been visited by a good majority of her children during this time. Hell, even Colin Creevey, a boy Molly considered one of her multitude of bonus children had visited her. Though his ghost, it may have been, he still managed to pay the woman he loved like a mother a visit. . . whilst also telling her how foolish she was behaving.
It wasn’t until another knock later in the day - after Bill and Fleur reminded her, yet again, that Arthur had stopped by for the day. . .and after she, yet again, sent him away, and told them to tell him to take this as a time to spend with his children, Molly knew exactly who was on the other side of that door.
It was her little girl, and Molly knew her daughter well enough to know (because they were so much alike) Ginny was here with a purpose, and she wouldn’t leave well alone until she found a resolve that worked for her.
Molly didn’t answer the knocks right away, and she couldn’t help but allow a soft little smile to spread across her lips toward Ginny’s threats. Oh her darling daughter was so very much like her. Under any normal circumstances, of course, Molly would’ve marched to that door immediately, flung it open, and - - ‘Ginevra Molly Weasley! You are most certainly not going to do such a foolish thing! And without a wand? Really? I know I raised you better than that to go gallivanting half-way across the world without any sort of protection whatsoever! You could die- - -’ Her inner dialogue ceased the moment she responded with that one damn word which gripped her heart so tight she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
She taught him better than that.
She taught him better enough than to die before she did.
Molly felt herself filling with emotion, but she knew she had to push it aside as best she could because if she knew Ginevra, and she did, her daughter was about to burst through those doors one way or another, and she wouldn’t ever keep her children out.
Her wand was lazily drawn from the pocket of her robes and an inward, Alohamora!, was chanted, unlocking the door. The wand was just as lazily returned and replaced.
When Ginny entered the room, Molly’s eyes landed on her daughter. . and her own heart broke at the sight of how defeated she looked. ‘Oh Ginevra. . .’she wanted to say.
Molly wanted to wrap her arms around her daughter and tell her how sorry she was for abandoning her in this obvious time of need. She knew how much weight and burden had been put on Ginny to put on a bright face and march herself off to school as if nothing had happened.
She tried to speak.
She tried to share some words - anything - with her aching daughter, but no words would form.
‘Ginny. I’m so sorry, my darling,’ she wanted to continue. . . but she couldn’t speak.
Silence from the exhaustion she felt surrounded her, preventing her from saying a damn word.
Her eyes landed on the tea and then on Ginny as she spoke.
Molly scooted forward in her rocking chair and took the mug in between her two hands.
Her eyes looked to the tea - a piece of lavender floated on the top.
This was her recipe concocted for Ginny just after returning home from her first year at school and being possessed.
Molly had been there the day Ginevra returned home with home remedies and support and acted as any and everything Ginny might have needed because she wasn’t going to lose her little girl to the darkness which had taken over her. . .
. . .and it was in that moment - that moment of realization as to why Ginny was here - that moment as to why her daughter brought the mug filled with the brew of Molly’s making she now held in her hand.
The witch set the cup aside, stood, and immediately wrapped Ginny up in her arms.
She held her tight.
Her hands moved up and down Ginny’s back and into her hair, feeling every single ounce of this child she brought into the world.
Ginny was here.
Ginny was real.
Ginny was safe.
Ginny was alive.
Molly’s eyes closed tight.
Her cheek rested against the top of Ginny’s head, taking in her daughter’s scent.
Her hands gripped the sweater Ginny wore.
Molly loved all of her children equally. Though, they often told her she chose favorites.
Every single one of her children held a special and very important place in her heart, and Ginevra, she was always closest with because Ginny was her youngest.
It didn’t mean she loved Ginny more than her other children, it meant she’d spent more time getting to know her because whilst the others were off growing older and living their own lives at Hogwarts and beyond, Ginny had been home with Molly for many years. Not to mention, they were the only women in a houseful of men.
The pair of them had a different bond, and having her daughter here. . .there was a part of Molly which came to life again.
07/27/2020 04:58 PM
Happy Birthday, @нerмιone
I just wanted to wish the happiest of birthdays to one of the best and most wonderful people on this site. She has quickly become one of my closest friends around here. She's genuine, real, talented as f'uck, lovely, fun, and just wonderful to have around. I took some time the other day to edit you some photos (I haven't proper edited like this in quite some time, so I hope you like them!) I just hope this day is as wonderful and lovely as you are. I adore your arse, нerмιone Love, Mamabear/Boozy/Ms. Frizzle. Mwah, my darling.
07/26/2020 08:41 PM
The Casualties of Grief.
The Burrow. Autumn 1998.
‘Molly, my darling.’
“Go away.” I’m sorry. Please stay.
‘Molly. It’s been weeks since you’ve properly gotten up and ready for the day.’
“I don’t care.” Yes. I do. Love me. I’m in so much pain. “Go away.”
‘Molly. Let me help you.’
“I don’t want your help!”Yes. I do.
‘I love you. I’m just trying to be there for you.’
“I hate you.” I didn’t mean it. I DIDN’T MEAN IT, ARTHUR.
‘You don’t mean that.’
“Yes. I do.” No. I don’t.
“Damn it, Molly! Enough of this." Molly turned to face him. She was a little shocked he finally fought back. "You aren’t the only one who lost Fred!” His voice raised an octave. “He was my child too!” She hit a nerve. I’m so sorry, my love.
Molly sat up from their bed and turned to face him.
There were weeks and weeks worth of bags beneath her eyes and dried tears stained upon her cheeks.
Her curls were a disheveled mess.
Her body ached as she hadn’t ever laid in bed so much in all of her days.
“Enough? Enough of what, Arthur Weasley? Grieving the loss of my son? Am I not perky enough for you? Sorry Fred's death has kept me from being cheery!" She threw the sheets off from her body and stood before her husband.
'Molls. . .'
"No, Arthur. Don't you Molls me." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You weren’t the one who carried him in your belly for nine months! You weren’t the one who left your career to stay home and raise him so he wouldn’t be alone! You weren’t the one who made him a second breakfast everyday because one was never enough - -” She paused.
There was a cry of emotion which cut off her words.
Molly brought her hand to her mouth to try and push it back down.
Fred. I miss you so much.
Arthur didn't say anytihng for several moments.
“That's not fair." When he finally replied, his voice lowered once more. "We agreed I would be the one to work and you would be the one who stayed home with the children. That's what you wanted. That's not fair, Molly!”
Molly’s attention shot upward toward Arthur. She glared.
“Neither was losing Fred, but apparently that's what we were destined for! A life of sadness, and losing one pf our very own!”
Her hands dropped to her sides as she made her way over to the closet. She drew her wand - which had been in her pocket since she last laid down several days prior - and magicked a trunk from the shelf and began to pack her things.
“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, trying to stop her.
Molly turned toward him. Her wand pointed directly against his chest. Her eyes glared into his.
“Don’t think for a moment I won’t use this on you.” I would never, my love. I would never!
Her eyes were heavy and filled with anger and rage.
She was so tired. She honestly didn't know what she was doing any longer.
“Get away from me, Arthur. I don’t want your help.” Yes. I do. “I’m tired of the questions! I’m tired of you lot asking me if I’m alright. I DON’T WANT TO ANSWER ANYONE ELSE. I don’t want to be here.”
STOP ME. PLEASE.
“I’m leaving you.”
* * *
Shell Cottage. Two Weeks Later.
‘Mum? Dad’s here. He’d like to see you.” It was Bill’s knock on the door and his voice which brought Molly out of her thoughts from the last conversation she had with Arthur before she left the Burrow.
Molly didn’t answer Bill right away.
She never did.
‘Come on, Mum. Let him in.’
She rocked back and forth in the rocking chair in her room.
Her eyes stared forward into the nothingness that was her new world now.
She barely left her room over the last few weeks.
Every day at this time - half past eleven in the morning - on his lunch break at the Ministry, Arthur came to pay Molly a visit, but whenever Bill or Fleur would knock on her door, she would tell them to tell him she didn’t want to see him.
It was a lie. She wanted to see him.
Molly wanted to hold him so tight.
She wanted to tell him how sorry she was.
She wanted to cry in his arms.
. . . but the shame she felt for the way she ended things crippled her from allowing him inside.
Never in all of the time she’d known Arthur had she ever spoken to him with such disrespect and hatred.
Molly didn’t mean a word of what she had spoken, but it didn’t change the fact: she said those hateful words filled with no care for the man she loved with her everything.
She was just so tired and so broken.
She’d lost Gideon and Fabian in the first war, and now she lost her son in the second.
Bilius was dead.
Her father was dead.
Her mother was dead (well, she wasn’t that close with her mother, but she still died). . . everyone she loved died.
Why did she survive? That was the question.
Why of all of the people who could’ve been given the opportunity to live longer. . . why did it have to be her?
She would give her life ten times over if it meant her brothers returned to this world.
She would give anything . . . anything at all to be given the chance to hold Fred one last time.
She would do anything to be reunited with her little boy.
A mother wasn’t meant to outlive her child.
Molly tried to be strong, but the weight of knowing she wasn’t there to protect them - like she had been for Ginny - -
I COULD’VE SAVED HIM.
I WASN’T THERE.
I WASN’T THERE.
FRED. I’M SO SORRY.
Her mind plagued her with the reality every bloody minute of every bloody day.
She had been strong enough to fight off and kill Bellatrix Lestrange. She could’ve killed Rookwood before he set off the explosion.
What was the point of living in this world, if the two hands she’d been given to protect her children hadn’t been able to save her little boy?
“I don’t want to see him.” she finally replied. No. ASK HIM TO STAY. “Tell him to stop coming around. My answer won't change.” Don’t do that. Tell him to keep fighting my stubborn arse until I open that damn door.
It was the same answer given to Bill or Fleur everyday at half-past eleven. . . yet, everyday, at that same damn time, Arthur came around again.
Maybe one day Molly would open that door for him.
07/23/2020 07:47 PM
31st March 1998
There was silence in the Burrow. Not a sound could be heard other than the crackling fire in the pit dying down for the evening. The room was dark, save for the dim light emitted by the flames.
It wasn’t like Molly Weasley to be sitting on the sofa, staring into the fire with wide, fear-filled eyes, but there was something inside of her which warned her: something was not right.
Molly wanted to get up and move and find something to do, but there was nothing to do.
She’d cleaned the house twelve times over that day - from top to bottom she worked her way through each and every crevice of her home.
There weren’t anymore jumpers to be sewn - though, she could always find one person or another to knit one for, so what was it?
What was wrong with the witch?
This sort of behavior wasn’t like her one bit.
Molly couldn’t explain it. She’d merely awoken with the fear: something was not right with someone she cared for, but who could it have been? Every one of their spoons on the grandfather clock pointed to ‘Mortal Peril’ now, so who could it have been?
‘Mrs. Weasley,’ a soft, crackling sound could be heard throughout the room.
Molly jumped up from the sofa and drew out her wand.
She looked around, but there was no sign of anyone in their home.
Had she gone mad? If she’d been more together - more with it, she would know exactly where to look. . . but the problem with this woman: she wasn’t herself that day.
‘Lumos,’ she chanted as her wand lit and brightened the room in ways the fire couldn’t in the evening hours.
She looked around again. There was no one there.
‘Mrs. Weasley,’ she heard again. The voice was definitely a child - just not one of her own. She began to worry even more so now. ‘Over here. . . in the fire.’
Molly turned and looked down. Of course! She could slap herself silly. Of course he was coming from the flames! How could she have acted so daft? It was quite clear Molly Weasley was not okay.
‘Nox’ she chanted, and the light on her wand was put out. Molly’s wand was replaced just before she quickly made her way over toward the pit.
Normally, she would’ve been thrilled to have been given a visitor, but not tonight. Her eyes landed on the etched out structure of Neville Longbottom. He and Ginny were close, she knew, and Molly’s heart sank.
“What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with my Ginny?!” Molly didn’t even wait for Neville to begin before questioning him. She knew now who was in danger. Her Ginny - her little girl!
“She’s been injured. Bad. The Carrows tortured her for information about Harry. We were locked in the dungeons unable to reach Pomfrey.”
Molly’s world froze. Her heart sank, her mouth went dry, her mind went blank, and though Neville kept talking, his voice sounded so far away.
“I tried healing her, but I think I might have made it worse. (I’m not very good with Healing Magic, but I tried! Several of us did, but it didn’t work.) Her ribs are cracked in several places - that much is clear. She’s having trouble breathing. I’ve got to get her out of here, Mrs. Weasley. She- she needs medical attention and fast.”
May have gotten worse.
Molly was completely sure she was going to be ill.
She couldn’t even bear to begin to question what horrible things had gone on during the school year, and she would never forgive herself for allowing Ginny to return to the school.
“Mrs. Weasley? Mrs. Weasley? Are you there?”
It was clear Neville was beginning to worry. Molly noticed his eyes went wider and he even looked around as best he could whilst having his face buried in the pit.
Molly pulled herself together.
Ginny needed her now more than ever.
She couldn’t fail her daughter anymore.
“I’m here, dear. We’ve got to get her out of the school.”
“It wasn’t easy, but I managed to get her to the Hog’s Head. Come quickly. A friend of ours is tending to her now. I’ve got to go.”
Neville’s face disappeared and the pit returned to a normal fireplace.
Molly didn’t wait a moment longer from the time Neville disappeared to when she stood and rushed over to grab her outer robes and throw them over her body. Next she went upstairs to fetch her Healer’s bag - it was filled with everything she might need to heal her little girl.
She rushed downstairs, and with her wand drawn, she Apparated immediately to the Hog’s Head.
The once usually filled tavern was dark.
It came to no surprise at all to Molly that even Hogsmeade as a whole had changed now that the Ministry had fallen and the Dark Lord reigned over the Wizarding World.
It came to no surprise that those who once freely dwelled inside the four walls of the beloved tavern were now too afraid to step outside of the confines of their homes.
It was a terrifying world which had become their reality, but nonetheless, this was their world now.
Molly was so caught up in her own thoughts about how the world was changing that she didn’t return to the present until she heard Ginny grunting from one of the many corners of the tavern.
Her attention shot toward the sounds. Her eyes landed on Ginny laying on one of the many tables.
There was a man standing over Ginny. Did he even know what he was doing? Who was he?
All she could see was his silhouette.
“What are you doing? Molly approached the table with haste. Her eyes landed on her daughter.
There was blood everywhere. Her heart ached and her stomach sank.
“Ginny. . .” Her hand came up to cover her mouth.
Molly’s eyes stung with tears. Never did she wish to see her child lying before her like this. She was brought back to her brothers - whom she’d been forced to patch up many times before their death. It killed her a little more every time she healed them after an attack gone wrong.
“Mrs. Weasley! Praise Merlin,” said Neville. Though Molly ignored him as she rushed forward to the make-shift operating table - one normally used for anyone and their mother to come and sit and eat and drink and be merry on and around. How was this at all sanitary?!
“Why is she awake?” Molly finally was given the opportunity to put a face to the man who was standing over her child and working to fix her wounds.
Her blood ran cold the moment her eyes locked on him.
“Oh hell no. You get away from my daughter!” She pushed the man aside. “You stay away from her! I won’t let you be the reason she dies too!”
‘M- mum?’ Ginny barely let out. Molly’s eyes were filled with sadness and fear. Her hand came up to rest against Ginny’s cheek.
“Mrs. Weasley! Don’t be angry with him. He’s helping us. This is Aberforth!” Neville continued. “He’s Dumbledore’s brother.”
“I know who he is, Neville!” Molly shouted, but her voice softened as she replied to Ginny. Her hand caressed Ginny’s cheek. “I’m here, my darling.” Molly’s eyes never once left her daughter. “Don’t you ever touch anyone I love, again.”
Aberforth said nothing. “Don’t worry, Longbottom. Molly and I go way back. She still blames me for the death of her brother, Gideon.” He stepped back from the table.
“That’s because it was your fault!” Molly spat darkly beneath her breath. There was so much anger and rage. It was his fault. It was his fault Gideon died! It was his fault. If they’d only allowed her to operate instead of Aberforth, she knew Gideon would still be alive.
Aberforth didn’t respond to her comment. He looked to Neville. “You best be heading back to the school. They’ll be looking for you. We don’t want them tracking you lot here.”
All the while Aberforth was talking to Neville, Molly was speaking to Ginny. She had a cloth in her hand and was dabbing potion onto the fabric. It was an anesthetic that would allow Ginny to sleep whilst Molly healed what she needed to.
“M-mum. I’m so-sorry. I-” Ginny tried to speak but it was obviously too much for her, and her words were cut off by more cries of pain. There were tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Shh. Shh. Shh. Don’t you worry now. I’m here. I’m going to make you all better now.” Molly placed the cloth just below her daughter’s nose. Her eyes sparkled with promise of health and love - as best they could as she was forced to stare down at her daughter who was obviously in a great deal of pain - whilst Ginny’s own began to grow heavy. “Close your eyes and go to sleep for a little while.”
When Ginny was out, Molly began the healing process, whilst also putting in her two cents about Aberforth sending Neville back to school.
“Neville. You’re not going back there.” Molly snapped at the boy as if she was his own mother. Her wand was waving this way and that and potions she’d brought along with her were being poured over the many wounds. “Fetch me a bowl of hot water, dear.”
“Yes, mum.” Neville disappeared into the back kitchen.
“He’s not bloody well staying here. I’ve got a business to keep, Molly, and we’ve got a good thing going. I’m not having you ruining it.”
“I’m not the one who actively ruins plans and lives.” Her attention remained on Ginny. “. . . and I never once implied he was, Aberforth. He’s coming back with me.”
“He’s not a little boy, Molly. They’ve been fighting to protect the students in the school. He’s needed there - and honestly so is Ginny.”
Something in Molly snapped when he dared to suggest her daughter going back. She turned toward him with a glare like no other anyone had ever seen on Molly’s features before. Her chest was heaving now, but she wouldn’t step away completely from her daughter. (Molly was skilled enough in Healing that she was able to multitask)
“They are children! Harry. Ron. Hermione. Ginny. Neville. All of them! THEY ARE CHILDREN!” she spat in Aberforth’s face.
Aberforth sighed. Molly saw it in his eyes. This was the one thing he'd always complained about with his brother, Dumbledore: forgetting the students were children. Molly knew that's what he was thinking, and she knew he knew she was right.
War was changing all of them.
“They are boys and girls just wanting to learn the magic of our world! This is our fault, Aberforth ! This is all of our faults for bringing our children into this madness that should’ve been ended years ago, but our greed and our pride and our need to hide the fact that maybe You-Know- - -” She stopped herself and with tears in her eyes and a look of fear like never before spread across her features she spat out as best she could. “-Voldemort!” Another pause was taken as a breath escaped her lungs. “- - was still alive . . . We should’ve known. We should’ve known! There’s been far too much bloodshed for this. I’ve lost. . . We’ve lost -” Molly paused. She thought of Aberforth’s sister and Dumbledore.
She was shaking now and her hands couldn’t continue the task she’d been given - the task she knew to do all too well! It’s what she’d been trained for. . . but the weight of everything - the fear of it all . . . it was weighing heavy on the witch.
Aberforth stepped forward. “Let me heal her.”
Molly cried and shook her head. “I won’t let you touch another person I love.”
Aberforth placed his hands on top of Molly’s. There were tears streaming down her face.
The man whom everyone knew as a rotten ol’ grump softened in this moment, showing Molly the true person he was beneath the bitterness and pain.
“Just like I couldn’t save my sister, I couldn’t save Gideon either.” Aberforth paused for a moment. Molly’s attention went from him to Ginny and back again. Her tears were falling now. This long and bitter war that never truly seemed to end was getting to her. “Fabian was dead when we arrived and we were able to pull Gideon out of the fire, but he was so badly burned Molly- - ”
“You wouldn’t let me in there!” she spat in interruption.
“You couldn’t be in there! He was your brother and with the type of injuries he obscured, you wouldn’t have been able to think clearly - like the Healer you normally were.” Aberforth shook his head. “I never returned to Medicine after that day.”
Molly wanted to say so many things. She wanted to fight him and tell him he was wrong, but she knew he was right (and maybe her own speech woke her up and made her realize: this was not the time in their world for her to be holding onto the past. If they were going to win this war, they would all need to get along). . . so, instead, she turned her attention to Ginny once again.
“I know you can heal her, Molly, but you’re tired. You’ve done most of the work. Allow me to cut in and help you finish up. Let me heal your daughter.”
Molly looked to Aberforth once more. She nodded and stepped back. Neville returned in that moment.
“Got the water you asked for, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Thank you, dear.” She turned her attention to Neville. “Set it on the table next to Ginny and come here. You and I need to have a little talk.”
Neville did as he was told, and when he returned to Mrs. Weasley, he told her all about the DA and how he took over when Harry, Ron and Hermione left to look for Horcruxes.
If Molly wasn’t so furious with all of them for being so foolish, she would’ve been proud. They were all so much like their parents. . . and she couldn’t say she didn’t blame them for wanting to fight back, but it didn’t mean she believed for a moment they could do it completely on their own. They would need help when it came to the final battle which would definitely come.
“I can’t go back with you to the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley. I have to stay here and fight.” Neville paused and drew his shoulders back a little bit to stand taller than he was moments prior. “I may be a screw-up, and I’m no great warrior like my parents, but I’ve been on my own my whole life because they all but died fighting.” He paused. It was clear to Molly he was fighting off his rising emotion. There were definitely tears in Molly’s eyes. “I have to do this. Not just for myself and for the good of the Wizarding World and Hogwarts and for all who died, but for my parents - who, because of Voldemort . . . gave their lives so I could live mine.”
Molly immediately pulled Neville into a great, big ‘Mamabear’ hug. She held him close and it was obvious by the noises leaving Neville’s lungs he hadn’t expected this sort of reaction.
He returned the hug.
Molly pulled away after remaining there for a few moments longer. Her hands rested on either one of his shoulders, and her green eyes locked on his brown.
“Oh Neville. . .” She began. “I promise you, your parents would be more proud of you than you could ever imagine. I want you to take care of yourself, and I will find a way to send you a care package so I know you’re eating. . .but I understand. You just promise me you will look after you.”
Neville nodded. “I promise, Mrs. Weasley.”
Aberforth cleared his throat. Molly turned her attention toward him as he was wiping off his hands with one of the cloths.
“All done now.” he said.
“She’ll be alright?” asked Neville.
“She’ll be right as rain in a few hours. Body just needs to rest off the remainder of the injuries.”
Molly squeezed Aberforth’s arm. “Thank you.”
Aberforth nodded. His attention then turned to Neville. “Let’s get you back through the portrait.”
Neville nodded. “Bye, Mrs. Weasley. Tell Ginny I’ll see her soon.”
Molly nodded. “Bye, darling. You be safe.”
Neville and Aberforth made their way to the portrait of his sister hanging on the wall. It only took mere moments to send Neville back through.
When Aberforth returned to where Molly stood he went to lift Ginny up off the table.
Molly’s brows furrowed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not going to let you carry her.”
“I’m perfectly capable- -”
“I know you are, but you’re not the only one who blames themself for that night with your brothers, so it’s the least I can do to help.”
Molly sighed. She didn’t answer with words. She nodded instead, and the two returned to the Burrow.
Ginny made a full recovery, but it was days later when Harry, Ron and Hermione were taken in by Fenrir Greyback. . .and much to their daughter’s dismay, Molly and Arthur would not allow Ginny to return to school.
06/29/2020 01:34 PM
Comfort ft. Madamn Bones
Part of acting as Head Girl, especially during exam time, was making sure everyone was where they needed to be, when they needed to be. There was a list of students for each house given to the Head Boy and Girl, and, periodically, they were meant to do a headcount to make sure that all pupils were (as stated above) in their respective areas at the respective times.***
This particular evening, Amelia Bones was missing.
She was not your usual student and was constantly causing some sort of trouble. There wasn’t a week that went by, the young, fiery red-haired Gryffindor wasn’t sent to Professor McGonagall’s office by none other than Molly Prewett. The seventh year had a very low tolerance for fighting and misbehaving - especially when one seemed to get more kicks out of being rebellious than they did actually learning and taking school seriously.
Molly often wondered what in Merlin’s name happened to this child to cause her to be so angry.
“Bones, Amelia is the only pupil unaccounted for. She’s meant to be in Potions lessons.” Arthur Weasley, who was Head Boy, looked up from his clipboard. “Slughorn promises he’ll let her make up the exam, but if she’s more than half an hour late, twenty points will be taken for extreme tardiness. She’ll fail entirely if she doesn’t show.”
“Damn child.” Molly rolled her eyes and shoved her quill behind her ear. Her clipboard was placed on one of the many tables in the Prefect lounge. “Doesn’t she care at all? She’s only in her first year. I don’t see how she’s going to make it through six more.”
“I suppose that’s up to her to decide.” Arthur wrapped his arms around Molly. “It’s quite hilarious though.”
Molly quirked a brow, but she didn’t fight the hold he now had her in. “What’s hilarious?”
“You.” Arthur grinned. “I love it when you get all fired up, especially over a first year you don‘t even know.”
Molly’s eyes narrowed, and she smacked Arthur’s chest playfully. “I’ll show you fired up, Arthur Weasley.”
“I know you will.”
“I just don’t understand. I tried to help her. I tried to care, but it’s those who just have no care for. . . even themselves, or so it seems, that I have a really hard time giving a damn about.”
Molly let out a little grumble and Arthur pecked her lips.
“Well. What are you going to do about it now? It’s our responsibility to make sure she gets to class. She’s got-” He paused and looked at his watch. “-fifteen minutes before she loses twenty points on her exam. You know the First Year Exams are just as important as all of the others.”
Molly pulled away and nodded. “I know. I know. I suppose I could fetch McGonagall and let her handle it, but I don’t think there would be enough time to do that and get her to the exam. " Molly paused and rolled her eyes. "I'll just go and find her. Have any suggestions of where I should look?”
“The loo. I’ve noticed you ladies always go to the lavatory when you want some alone time.”
“So observant, you are,” Molly teased through a smile. “I’ll catch you later, Weasley.”
It wasn’t long after leaving the Prefect Lounge, Molly found herself entering the Girls Lavatory. Her attention was drawn to the center stall when she heard sniffles and insults being spewed toward Moaning Myrtle by none other than the girl she was looking for, Amelia Bones.
Molly smiled when she thought about Arthur and how he’d been right.
“Myrtle, if you don’t go away, I’ll hex you!” the voice of Amelia boomed from the toilet where she was currently hiding.
“Hehehehe! You’ll definitely fail those exams for sure. Everyone knows you can’t hex what’s already dead.”
There was another loud grunt and what sounded like an attack against the wall.
“I said get lost!” There was more kicking and punching noises against the stall. It sounded like there was a wild animal on the other side.
Molly shook her head. “Oh, Amelia.”
Moaning Myrtle let out one of her ear-piercing cries.
Molly cringed. She hated that bloody sound!
“No one ever wants to play with me - even when they are crying and need comfort! I understand more than anyone else about pain.”
“I said go away Myrtle!” More booming kicks and punches came from behind the stall. “Just leave me alone!”
Molly rushed forward with her wand drawn - not that she could do anything because Myrtle was correct: there was no harming what was already dead.
“Bones? Bones? Is that you?” Molly banged on the stall with her fist not holding her wand. “Amelia, are you alright?”
The kicking and punching and screaming from Amelia continued on the other side.
She didn’t answer Molly’s inquiry.
Moaning Myrtle was now hovering just beside where Molly stood.
“Oh hello.” Myrtle smiled and tilted her head to the side. It was not the usual friendly smile, but more of a devious one. “If the cry baby won’t allow me to comfort her, maybe you’ll have more luck.”
Amelia’s screams continued from the other side.
“Get lost, Myrtle.” Molly glared toward the ghost. She'd never been a fan of the girl. She was all for understanding pain, but Myrtle was whiny, and there was a difference between actual pain and the constant need to bitch and moan. “- - Because believe me, I will find a way to hex you, if you don't.”
“Fine! I know when I’m not wanted!” Myrtle shouted out in obvious anger. She charged and went right through Molly’s body, sending a shivering sensation down her spine.
Molly shook her head and brushed off the cold, bone-chilling feeling and returned her attention to Amelia. She pointed her wand toward the stall where the girl was currently (and very loudly) ‘hiding’.
“Alohomora!” The lock of the stall unlatched and the door flew open and out fell Amelia directly toward Molly. It was obvious Amelia was just about to punch the door of the stall when it opened before she could.
Molly caught Amelia in her arms, and she bent to her knees in order to hold her steady.
Amelia began to hit and kick the air now. Her fists and shoes attacked Molly every now and then.
Molly took the beating.
There was kicking, screaming, crying and lots of incoherent words which left the lips of Amelia.
Molly didn’t know what in Merlin’s name was going on, but there was definitely something very wrong with this child. . . she just hadn’t yet figured out what. It was obvious Amelia needed someone to lash out on, so Molly decided to allow her to treat her as her temporary punching bag.
Believe it or not, Molly, too, understood anger and pain and fear. . . and there was something this child needed that she didn’t have at that very moment. Molly chose to comfort and treat Amelia like she would if she had a child of her own.
What would she do if Amelia was her daughter?
Molly would hug her little girl. She knew when she, herself, was upset, just feeling the pressure of another body against her own worked wonders . . .so maybe. . . just maybe, it would work with Amelia.
Molly wrapped her arms around Amelia, embracing her tight - but not too tight to where she might feel she couldn’t breathe - and shushed her softly.
Amelia fought the hold at first. She tried to break away whilst more grumbles and growls left her lungs. . . but Molly didn’t stop. There was something inside of her that told her she was doing the right thing by embracing her peer.
Molly was right. It was only a few moments later when Amelia began to calm down and give into the embrace.
Amelia’s arms wrapped around Molly now, which prompted her to tighten her grip a little more. Her hand came up to rest against Amelia’s back, and she ran it up and down in what she hoped was a soothing manner.
Amelia’s breathing began to slow down and Molly felt the girl’s body growing heavier against her own. It was as if she was giving into the comfort of the hug and allowing herself to be free of the tension she was holding moments ago.
“Would you like to tell me what’s the matter?” Molly asked as she slowly pulled away. Her hands came up to rest against Amelia’s face.
She wiped the leftover tears away.
It was at this very moment, Molly completely forgot all of the trouble Amelia had put her through for the entirety of the year, and, instead, what she saw was a very broken girl who needed some guidance.
Molly could see the wave of uncertainty dancing in Amelia’s eyes. It was clear she was trying to decide if Molly could be trusted or not.
“I’m a good listener. I assure you.” Molly stood to her feet. “. . . but whilst you decide, let’s also get you cleaned up and ready for Potions. Professor Slughorn is waiting.”
“I’m not going, Prewett.” Amelia crossed her arms over her chest.
“Oh? Why not?” Molly looked to Amelia through the mirror of one of the bathroom sinks she now stood over.
She was wetting a paper towel to wipe Amelia’s face of the remaining tears and to hopefully bring down the red in her cheeks. Molly more than anyone else understood what it was like to bear red hair and deal with her skin turning the same shade - if not brighter - when even the slightest hint of emotion decided to rise from within.
“I don’t want to.” Amelia’s tone sounded rather indignant.
“Don’t you want to return as a Second Year rather than repeat your first?” Molly bent down on her knees once more and began wiping Amelia’s face.
Amelia fought Molly’s touch again at first, but it wasn’t long until she settled and allowed her to dab her face with the towel.
“Yes, but it’s no use. I always fail exams.” Amelia’s eyes watered, and one single tear fell from her cheeks. “I always go completely mad beforehand.” Another tear fell. Molly pulled back from the dabbing by now. “My chest tightens. I get hot. I can’t think. I see red.”
Molly watched as Amelia began shaking. Her heart ached for the girl. In hopes Amelia would cease her shaking, Molly grabbed and held her tightly once more. Amelia didn’t fight the hold this time. Instead, Molly felt as she gave into the embrace.
“Those are called Panic Attacks.” Molly said when she drew back. She continued dabbing Amelia’s face with the towel once again. “There’s got to be some accommodations given to you. Maybe you can test in a different room. We could propose you being given as much time as you need, and one single monitor who checks on you periodically.” Molly found herself feeling the need to advocate for Amelia. ‘This is what you're good at,’ something told her deep inside. “I’m sure there are certain medicinal herbs which can be taken via tea to help calm your nerves beforehand. Maybe even Pomfrey has something you could be prescribed to take during exams.” Molly was becoming rather enthusiastic about the entire endeavor. “Have you told anyone?”
This was when Amelia pulled away. “No. I’m not telling anyone. Everyone will think I’m a freak! They’ll laugh - possibly send me home, even!”
“No they won’t. They can help you succeed.” Molly watched Amelia shake her head just before she began to pace back and forth.
Next thing Molly knew, Amelia was hitting herself in the forehead with her palm and calling herself profanities which would cause points to be taken from Gryffindor if reported.
The sight was gut wrenching. Amelia was only a child, and she was expecting perfection and hiding from the reality of what was going on, on the inside. This moment reminded Molly of herself when she couldn’t please her mother.
Molly stood to her feet and rushed over to Amelia. She stopped her and pulled her hand away from her face.
“Amelia.” Molly attempted to lock eyes with her. She was trying to show her she was safe! “Stop!”
“No!” Amelia fought Molly’s grip and went to hit her forehead again. “You’re not my mum, Prewett! You don’t get to tell me what to do!”
Amelia fought Molly’s hold on her arm. “You’re a student just like me!” She finally broke her limb free and began hitting herself in the forehead again.
Molly’s heart broke even more as she watched. It was at this point, she figured she should’ve already gone to fetch McGonagall, but she wanted Amelia to think about her future and her exams and not get herself into trouble before having a chance to explain what was really going on.
“Amelia!” Molly grabbed the girl's hands once more. She prayed to Merlin to forgive her for possibly holding on too tight, but she wanted Amelia to stop harming herself!
What else was she to do?!
“I’m your friend. I’m going to help you, if you’ll just allow me to!”
“No you’re not!" Amelia shouted. "You hate me. I know you do.” The obvious raging tears returned to her eyes. “YOU’RE NO BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE!”
Amelia’s fists came up and pounded against Molly’s chest.
Molly took it.
She took every punch Amelia threw her way.
It felt like hours she stood there and allowed herself to be the little girl’s punching bag.
She wasn’t worried about injuries. She would heal herself of any bumps and bruises later.
If it weren’t for everyone in their respective exam rooms taking their finals, someone would have heard the shouting.
The punching began to die down after awhile - it happened when the obvious exhaustion began to take over Amelia’s body, and it was clear to Molly she was reaching the point where there was no more fight in her.
Amelia pulled back from Molly. The look in her eyes went from exhausted to horror in a matter of seconds.
She gasped. “I’m sorry.” Tears pooled in her eyes once more. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Molly watched. Amelia couldn't stand still. It was as if all of the shame and fear and emotion was rising up inside of the tiny eleven year old girl. Molly felt that Amelia would break, if someone didn't stop her from snapping in two.
Amelia cried. It was honestly horrible to watch her come to the realization of what her anger could prompt her to do.
She looked so afraid.
Molly shook her head in dismissal of the apologies and wrapped her arms around the girl (this time there was a grumble when she moved. Bloody hell that little twerp could throw a punch).
“It’s alright.” Molly shushed Amelia after hopefully reassuring her she didn’t blame her for what she did.
Amelia pulled away and wiped her eyes. “I just get so scared, and I don’t want anyone to know it. I’m not a coward! I'm not! . . . so I get angry because it usually makes people go away. . . makes them afraid of me."
Molly drew her wand from the pocket of her robes where she’d replaced it earlier after opening the lock of the bathroom stall. She flicked her wrist toward the sink and turned it on. There was another flick of her wrist and a paper towel was lifted from the pile and placed under the water to soak.
“. . . but not you.” Amelia tilted her head to the side. There was a curious expression spread across her features. “You’re still here.”
“‘Accio!’ Towel.” Molly whispered under her breath, followed by a flick of her wand. “Let’s try this one more time. Shall we?” The paper towel zoomed through the air and landed in her hand. “I’m quite the stubborn witch-” Molly returned her wand to the pocket of her robes and dabbed Amelia’s tear stained face once more. “-and though I try and follow the rules as best I can, I tend to be quite rebellious myself. . . so yes. I’m still here. I don’t like to be known as someone who does what others simply expect me to do. I like to make up my own mind.”
Amelia smiled. “I like that. I like thinking for myself.”
“As you should.” Molly dabbed the last of the tears from Amelia’s face and smiled. “There. Now. I won’t force you to tell McGonagall. If you’d rather keep your little secret to yourself, it’s safe with me.”
Molly slowly stood. Damn, she was in pain.
“However, we’re long since past Slughorn's offer for you to show up and receive full marks for your exam, and I urge you to consider talking to someone about what you're going through so you can be given a fair chance at passing and moving on into your second year.”
Amelia didn’t respond right away, and Molly took it as the perfect opportunity to draw her wand from her robes once more and heal herself of the wounds she’d obscured whilst taking a beating from the eleven year old. She was subtle about it - as to not make Amelia feel worse than she already did. Molly had been practicing her Healing Spells. She was set to go to school to become a professional Healer in the up and coming Fall. She was becoming quite good with her Healing abilities.
When Molly finished, the wand was replaced once again inside the pocket of her robes. She turned to Amelia who remained quiet, standing there.
Molly held out her hand. “What’s it going to be, Bones? Are you going to remain here and hide away, or are you going to give yourself the fair chance you deserve?”
Amelia looked from Molly to her hand and back again. She didn’t answer, but she did smile and finally took Molly’s hand.
Molly smiled. “You’re making the right decision.”
“I know.” Amelia squeezed Molly's hand, and the pair of them left the lavatories in order to go and inform McGonagall of what happened. “I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t believe it was.”
“Stubborn rebellious child.” Molly shook her head in amusement.
“I could say the same about you.” Amelia looked to her with a big grin.
Molly smirked, and the pair made their way down the many corridors leading to McGonagall’s office. Amelia was given a second chance to take all of her exams with accommodations.
The pair didn’t speak a whole ton after that moment shared in the girls bathroom, and it would be many years before they ever really spoke again. . .but it was because of this moment spent with Amelia Bones, Molly realized, she wanted very much to become a mother one day.
06/28/2020 06:08 PM
1st July 1996
In Honor of the Death of Amelia Bones -*** 1st July 1996 -
27th June 1996 -
News of Amelia Bones death spread like wildfire - not only throughout the Ministry, but through the homes of the entirety of the Wizarding World as well. Residents awoke to the tragic reality that their soon-to-be official Minister was gone through that Morning’s Prophet brought to them by Owl.
The world of Wizards and Witches was in a state mourning.
It had been an entire year of (for lack of a better word) hell for the Weasley’s and co. Between the Battle in the Department of Mysteries, and the death of Sirius - losing a key member of the Order, along with Harry losing another person he held dear in his life - to ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’ making himself known, to Fred and George leaving school, to Molly practically having a heart attack worrying about Ronald, Ginny, Harry and Hermione after finding out how stupid they’d been to escape to the Ministry and take on the Death Eaters on their own.
Yes. It had been an entire year of hell.
Her children had been through a whirlwind of madness and back, and per Molly’s request, Arthur had been the one to break the news to the children.
It was best it came from him - even if it had to be through Owl - as they had not come home yet. It was best he said something to their children. Arthur had been the one who worked in the Ministry and even knew Amelia well.
The children would return home in a few days - along with Hermione, who practically lived there now during her Summer Holiday - but the news would make itself known before they did so. Molly didn't want them to not hear some sort of word from their parents - the people they were meant to look up to during time of crisis and fear.
Molly did not want them to be frightened. She wanted them to be brave, and that was exactly what Arthur had told them.
This was war, but they would make it through - together and alive.
Today was the day.
The children were returning for the Summer Holiday.
Her children were coming home.
Molly was currently standing over the stove. The bacon was sizzling, the eggs were cooking. The smell of bread toasting in the oven filled the air, whilst the sound of plates lifting up from the shelves and setting themselves on the table and the mop swishing back and forth in the background rang in her ears.
It was a normal day in the Burrow, save for the fact there was heavy emotion in the air.
The world hadn’t been the same since Amelia’s death. Rufus Scrimgeour had been appointed Minister in her wake, and Molly made a promise to herself that she would reach out to her old friend as soon as she had the chance (which meant it would come after seeing her children and making sure they were settled in.) She had not been close with Amelia, no - she only knew her as a young pupil during school and through Arthur because they both worked at the Ministry - but Rufus? She had a little more of an acquaintanceship with him.
Molly was preparing herself for the sadness that would inevitably follow as soon as the children made their way through the door. Hermione was the one Molly found herself most worried about, and she knew that Hermione looked up to Bones as a mentor - as someone she hoped to be like one day. There wasn’t a week that went by during the Summer’s where Amelia’s name wasn’t mentioned by Hermione.
Molly knew this death wouldn’t sit well with the teen - another reason why Molly had made sure Arthur wrote to the children. She wanted to make sure both Ginny and Ron were there for Hermione.
The witch finished breakfast and plopped food on each of the plates.
Fred and George made their way down the stairs moments later. She knew it was the food which woke them from their beds and urged them downstairs.
“Morning, Mum!” said Fred, giving her a kiss on the cheek and grabbing an extra piece of toast from the oven, taking a bite from the bread before finding his seat and digging in.
“Oi! You know the rules, Fred Weasley! Wait until everyone arrives.”
“Oh Mum! We’ll be waiting for hours,” replied George instead of Fred, who had already shoved a bite of food in his mouth and was chewing as he spoke.
Molly rolled her eyes their way and let out a grumble. She didn’t even have it in her to fight them on the matter.
She was saving her energy for Hermione.
With a flick of her wand, the mop ceased its cleaning and returned itself to the cupboard where it was meant to be, whilst Molly went to grab the bucket and toss the dirty bucket water outside into the yard.
It was the sound of Arthur’s motor car rolling up the drive that alerted Molly to the presence of the children. She dropped the bucket and stepped forward, ready to greet all of them with the biggest hugs and kisses, and, honestly, all of the Mamabear love she had inside of her to give.
It was Arthur and Ronald who exited the vehicle first, and next Ginny, but she turned around and stuck her head down inside of the vehicle. She was obviously having a conversation with the final pupil (Molly knew to be Hermione) inside.
Arthur approached and Molly smiled his way. Though the smile didn’t reach her eyes.
She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze.
“Breakfast is on the table.” Molly gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before greeting Ronald.
Her arms came up and wrapped tightly around her son, giving him a tight squeeze. “Oh I could kill you for being so daft!” She was referring to their rendezvous in the Ministry. "I could absolutely kill you!"
Molly pulled away. Her eyes were filled with hot tears.
She gently smacked his shoulder.
“Oi, Mum!” Ronald replied, rubbing the area of his arm Molly whacked. “I did it for Harry!”
“You could’ve died! You, Harry, Ginny and Hermione! The lot of you-” Molly stopped herself as a sound mixed with a squeal and a squeak left her lungs. Her arms wrapped back around him. “I’m so proud of you, but I’m so angry at you! I could’ve lost you.”
Molly pulled away once more and grabbed Ronald’s cheeks in her hands.
“Mum! ” He grumbled and attempted to break free.
“Oh! You stubborn child. Go inside and have some breakfast.” Molly scooted Ronald away just before her eyes landed on Ginny.
Her girl looked older, worn, tired and it broke the witch as she watched Ginny step up to her.
Her arms wrapped around her daughter.
“Ginny. . .” her voice was a whisper. “I could kill you too.”
“Mum, you know we would do anything for Harry. You know we had to.
” Ginny pulled away.
Molly nodded. “I know. I’m glad you were there for him. I just don’t know what I would do without you.”
“This is war, Mum, and you of all people did not raise a houseful of cowards.”
Molly shook her head. She knew that, but it didn’t make any of this easier.
“I never wanted this life for you.”
“We don’t get to choose what happens. We choose how we respond.”
Molly couldn’t believe what she was hearing coming out of the mouth of her little girl.
“Since when did you grow up?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” Ginny wrapped her arms around Molly, and Molly returned the hug.
It ached the woman’s heart that in this moment her daughter seemed more of the parent than she did.
What was coming of this world?
When Ginny pulled back, she looked to the car and back to Molly.
“I couldn’t get her to come out. She’s not okay.”
Molly nodded as she eyed the vehicle.
She saw Hermione sitting there staring straight ahead.
Her heart hurt so much for her other little girl.
“Go inside, my darling. I’ll go and talk with Hermione.”
Ginny nodded and made her way indoors. Molly walked over to the car.
“Mind if I join you?” she asked.
Hermione didn’t look her way. “If you’d like.”
The witch slid into the car and leaned back against the seat to get as comfortable as she possibly could.
Hermione remained quiet. It was Molly who decided to break the silence.
“You know when I lost my brothers, I - well. . .I didn’t leave my room for a week. Arthur didn’t even want us to have a funeral because there was a war on. He didn’t believe it was responsible at the time.” Molly paused and thought back to one of the times she and Arthur fought. “I wouldn’t have it. My brothers - Gideon and Fabian. . . the deserved better. They weren’t meant to die. They were such strong warriors - such strong men. You’d look at them and simply. . . you’d never believe anyone or thing could end their lives.”
The witch paused once more because her chest was tight now.
She could see their faces.
Oh Merlin she loved and continued to miss her brothers.
She always would.
She always would.
She wouldn’t cry in front of Hermione - not right now - but oh she wanted to. There was so much emotion, so much reminder of the loss of her brothers during this time.
There wasn’t anyone who hated the Dark Lord more than Molly and everyone else who lost someone so dear to them during the First Wizarding War.
“It’s hard to believe there is any hope in war when you lose someone you admire and/or love.”
Molly turned toward Hermione, who now looked her way. She took notice of the tears in the girl’s eyes.
“Oh Molly. . .” Hermione finally spoke. She moved forward and wrapped her arms around the woman.
Molly, of course, returned the embrace. Her arms came up to wrap tightly around Hermione.
She placed several kisses atop the girl’s head.
“How could someone so brilliant and so great be taken down? I never thought someone as fierce as Amelia Bones could die.”
Hermione let out another cry and pulled back from Molly. She grunted and wiped her eyes.
“It’s stupid. I’m being ridiculous! Of course she can die. Of course she can - at the end of the day, her blood bleeds red. I feel so stupid for being upset.”
“Oh, my darling. . .” Molly’s eyes were sad.
Her heart ached for the girl.
She wanted to take the pain away, but Molly knew it wasn’t that simple.
Her hand came up to run along Hermione’s back.
She placed one more kiss against her hair.
“. . . You’re allowed to grieve the loss of someone you admired. It’s a sad time, and as we’ve stated: it’s hard to believe someone so fierce can be taken by the hands of evil.”
“I just feel stupid for being so sad. It’s not like your brothers. I didn’t know her intimately. I wanted to one day - -” Hermione stopped herself and let out a laugh. “- - It sounds so ridiculous. . . I wanted to be just like her. I have dreams, Molly, and she was someone who gave me hope that women achieving their goals is truly possible. Amelia saw me . . .she saw me. I- I felt important when she was around.”
Molly shook her head. “First of all, you’re not silly for grieving her death, and I urge you to allow yourself to not only feel your pain but be gentle through it.”
The witch paused and turned Hermione’s face to look directly at her own.
“. . .and secondly, I want you to hear my words: I may not be the same as you, in the sense . . .I didn’t have the same sort of passions you do, but I understand the need to be ‘seen’ - the need to be valued for what I do - and the only person who can truly show you your value . . . and the only time you will truly believe you matter is if you believe it for yourself. Let yourself feel this grief, my darling. Allow yourself to feel. . . but take what you’ve learned from Amelia and apply it to how you live.”
Hermione was sobbing now. The tears were pooling in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.
She wrapped her arms around Molly once more and held on tight.
Molly returned the embrace and stayed with the young woman for as long as she needed her to be.
“Thank you, Molly.”
Molly drew back and smiled when Hermione let go.
“I will always be here for my children.”
Molly returned the gesture. “Shall we go inside now?”
The pair made their way inside to join the others, and the Weasley’s enjoyed - as best they could - breakfast together.
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