Country: United Kingdom
April 30, 2020
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.
05/31/2020 09:08 PM
Molly stood at the door with wide, teary eyes as she stared toward her son, Percy, who left and betrayed their family, but now appeared at the doorstep with the suitcase he left with in hand.
It was clear to the witch, her son had finally come home.
Life in the Burrow had not been the same since Percy abruptly took his leave after a fight with Arthur, and the way in which he departed - not a goodbye or an ‘I love you’ or a ‘this will not be forever’ - without even turning around to face Molly as he stormed out of the kitchen and Disapparated away?
It broke the matriarch.
Molly didn’t blame Percy in the slightest for his abrupt exit - the way Percy and Arthur ended things had been anything but loving let alone civil. She understood, but it didn’t mean the manner in which he chose to go didn't infuriate her, and it didn’t mean she agreed with his decision.
She would not change her children.
Molly would not treat her children the way her own mother treated her and Bilius, but it didn’t mean she had to agree with their decisions, and to be quite honest, she agreed with every word Arthur stated when Percy tried to defend his promotion and position.
Fudge proved time and time again, he could not be trusted. He proved to be nothing but a power hungry coward, afraid to stand up for what was right and true - all in fear of losing the title he’d earned himself over the years.
He Who Must Not Be Named had returned - whether Fudge chose to believe it to be true or not.
Harry wouldn’t lie.
Dumbledore wouldn’t lie.
All of the facts were staring the Wizarding World directly in the face, and Fudge refused to believe the truth.
Percy made a deal with the devil, and it would only mean horrible things to come for not only him but the Weasley’s as a whole. . . and that’s exactly what happened.
Percy behaved foolishly in his decision to turn against his family and take the promotion. He allowed his pride and need to prove himself to get in the way of his relationship with his family and their safety.
* * *
Flashback: The day Percy left.
Molly, with her wand in hand, was in the bedroom she shared with Arthur frantically and magically dusting and folding clothes and doing anything she could not to burst out of the room and dash down the stairs in order to stop the fighting between father and son.
She was a stubborn, strong-willed woman, who didn’t take orders well from anyone ever, but she and Arthur were a united front - she would not go against her husband in the middle of a scolding - especially one which held such importance.
The only reason she stopped her cleaning and stepped out of their bedroom was because she heard hushed laughter and name-calling coming from the hallway.
Molly stormed out of the room and quietly (but with no less ferocity) scolded Fred and George for daring to do such a thing when their Father and brother were having a serious conversation. Not to mention, she knew how sensitive Percy was, and there was a little voice in the back of her mind screaming, YOU’RE GOING TO LOSE HIM!
She shooed the boys into their rooms, but not before they released their jabs down the stairs.
Molly was furious with Fred and George, and she quietly swore they would pay for what they said.
It wasn’t long after she forced the twins back into their rooms and made her own way to her own, that she heard the slamming of Percy’s door from the floor above.
Molly made her way out of the room once more and quickly up the stairs. Something deep within her shouted, Check on your little boy!
There was an air in the home like there had never been before, and as she knocked on the door and entered, she saw Percy packing, causing her heart to sink to her stomach.
She felt as if she was going to be ill. What happened in between the room and the back door where Percy took his leave was very much a blur, but all Molly could remember as she tried to grab his suitcase and chased her boy down the stairs was: STOP HIM! STOP HIM! DON’T LET HIM LEAVE!
Molly lost her brothers to the war, she never had a close relationship with her mother, and therefore after leaving home, she even lost most contact with her father.
Bilius married and had a life of his own, and though he was the most of whom she saw throughout the years, he died before she got the chance to even try and become closer with him again.
There was only Molly left in the Prewett family, and mark her very words, whilst there was breath in her lungs, she would do everything in her power not to lose anyone else in her life again, especially her children.
She would never forget reaching the door and following Percy outside, only to be left standing there as the light Popping sound rang in her ears when her son disappeared.
Molly stood in shock and disbelief as she stared out before the property of the Burrow.
Her chest began to rise and fall, and her legs became jelly as she tried to will herself to move . . . but she could not.
Percy was gone.
It wasn’t until she felt the familiar hand of Arthur resting on her back, and his voice saying in what she knew to be a somber tone for him, “My dear. . .” that she finally turned and crashed into him, releasing her sobs into his chest.
She gripped the front of the robes he wore and cried. “He’s gone. . .”
Arthur said nothing. He wrapped his arms around Molly, and the two stood together at the back doorway in silence.
* * *
No. Life in the Burrow had not been the same, but as Molly stared at Percy, whom she hadn’t seen in quite awhile, all she could do was step forward and wrap her arms around him.
She stood in the same spot in the back doorway where she had been when he left all of those months ago, held her son, and praised Merlin he finally returned home.
It wasn’t long after, Molly broke free from the embrace and examined Percy up and down, taking note of how very different he appeared now.
He was far too thin, and he looked exhausted and aged - not in the way one does as they are maturing through life.
He looked much older than he actually was in years, and it only begged her to question: What had he been doing all of those months whilst he was away?
It saddened Molly, but instead of giving him grief, she decided to go with the more softer, motherly approach.
Of course she remained angry with him for leaving their family. Of course she wasn’t alright with the pain he put her and the others through. . .
She could yell and scream, but what was the point of kicking a dog when he was clearly down?
“Come inside, dear.” She took his suitcase from his hand and turned. “Come inside and have something to eat. You’re far too skinny for my liking.” Another pause, and the witch drew her wand with her free hand and waved it toward the kettle already resting on the stove. The eye flamed as it turned on. “This is what happens when your mother isn’t around to make sure you’re eating.”
Molly took Percy’s belongings and placed them down by one of the many cupboards in the kitchen.
The kettle whistled moments later, alerting it was finished. This was one of the many beauties of using magic to help with cooking. It was far more efficient!
Molly, who was now rummaging through the fridge, waved her wand once toward the stove to turn off the eye, and again, followed by an inward ‘Accio!’ to one of the many mugs resting on the shelves.
The mug followed command and leapt from where it sat and flew across the room. As if she knew her mugs and how they traveled when summoned,
Molly shot up from behind the door of the fridge with a carton of fresh eggs in one hand and a wrapped slab of bacon between her teeth. She caught the mug with her free hand.
With a kick of her boot to the fridge, the door closed and Molly made her way over to the stove.
The eggs and bacon were placed on the counter, and the mug was filled with tea. She brought it over to the large wooden table in the middle of the kitchen and sat it down.
“Have a seat, dear. It’ll be breakfast for supper this evening.”
She didn’t know why Percy returned, and though curious she may have been, in this very moment she didn’t care.
All that mattered to Mrs. Weasley was her son was safe and had returned home.
05/27/2020 07:14 PM
Paper & Cup.
The birds were chirping outside, and the sun was shining through the kitchen of the Burrow on that particular day Pigwidgeon flew through the window with that morning’s Prophet.
Molly stood over the sink, and as if on command - as if she knew Pigwidgeon was going to fly through the window at that very moment - the witch leaned to the side to allow him entrance.
She was currently washing the remainder of the breakfast dishes when he returned home with the paper she’d sent for him to fetch.
“Right on time.”
Molly stepped away from the dishes, drawing her wand and waving it toward what remained unclean, and at that very moment, the rag began to - with the aid of her very handy dandy magic - wash the dishes all by itself.
She relied so much on her magic when it came to keeping her house clean.
There was always so much to do and such little time in one day to do it - she didn't know how muggles managed to keep their homes clean without the help of magic. If one thing was for certain, Molly Weasley knew with how big her family was, she couldn't do it without the help of her trusty wand and the power she wielded through it.
Molly replaced her wand in the pocket of her robes and washed her hands with the cloth hanging on the cupboard doors beneath the sink.
She reached in her pocket and pulled out what she owed Pigwidgeon whilst also giving him a bit of leftover cookie she’d baked the night before when Harry and Ginny first arrived for one of their regular visits.
Pigwidgeon of course took the cookie, hooting in approval when he finished the treat Molly knew he loved.
She held out her hand toward him and he nodded in approval, and she took it as her cue to pet his feathers. She smiled, and he hooted and ruffled himself up as if he was enjoying her touch very much.
“Such a pretty bird.”
Molly drew her hand back and reached for the Prophet. Not even moments after the paper was in her hand, Ginny came running into the kitchen.
She took the paper before Molly could even take one glance at its headline.
”Hi, Mum! Thanks for breakfast again! It was delicious. You know how much Harry and I love your cooking. I miss it dearly. Is this the morning Prophet?” Ginny paused and took a glance at the paper in her hand.
Molly eyed her daughter suspiciously as Ginny was talking a mile a minute - something Molly knew Ginny always did when she was attempting to hide something by means of distraction.
“Wicked! I was just hoping it would arrive. I’ve got something I’ve been dying to show Harry. Mind if I borrow it for a little while?”
Ginny didn’t even allow Molly to answer, which infuriated the woman, and of course Molly did not allow her daughter to leave the kitchen.
“Not so fast, Ginevra. I may be getting older, but I am your mother and I always know when you’re hiding something from me. I don’t appreciate it.”
“Don’t be silly, Mum! I just wanted to show Harry something. . .” Ginny’s voice trailed off, and Molly knew her daughter knew she was up to no good and there was no use trying to play it off as nothing.
Molly watched as Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes. She pursed her lips together as if she was contemplating what she wanted to say.
Molly grew nervous.
What in Merlin's name was so horrible in that morning’s paper that would give Ginny a need to hide it from her?
“Fine!” Ginny stepped forward and handed Molly the paper. “-but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Molly’s brows furrowed and she remained looking toward her daughter for several more moments - there was sadness and fear there.
What could be so- - ?
“Oh . . .” Molly’s eyes stared at the paper - they particularly stared upon her soon to be (or so she thought) daughter-in-law, Hermione Granger, walking along the streets with none other than Viktor Krum.
“I didn’t know how to tell you.” Ginny finally answered.
Molly’s head shot upward. She glared daggers toward her daughter. She didn’t know a time she’d ever been so angry toward Ginny before this moment. Her eyes actually began to fill with hot tears, but she didn't allow them to fall.
"You knew about this? You knew about Hermione and Viktor? Does Ron know?"
"Of course I did, Mum! She's my best friend, but I-"
Molly didn't want to hear excuses.
She wanted to know the truth.
Her dearest Ron was always so hard on himself, and she was quite sure all this would do was further dampen his already low self-esteem.
Her arms crossed and she drew a bit defensive.
"Does Ronald know?"
"Why are you getting angry with me, Mum? I didn't do anything! I'm sort of in an awkward situation - if you haven't noticed!"
Molly was becoming impatient. She didn't appreciate not being answered, and with Ginny avoiding her question like one would the plague, she was quite sure she already had the answer.
"I'm not going to ask again."
Ginny stared at Molly, who could tell she was furious with her now.
"Not yet, but I'm sure he will soon."
"Ginny. How could you? How could you allow something like this to happen to your brother? Did you know?"
Ginny stood tall and defiant, much like Molly often did when she was firing herself up for an argument.
"How is this my fault?! How, Mum?! Here I am - stuck in the middle. My best friend and my brother are together and all I've been trying to do this entire time is allow them to be themselves. Hermione was just - "
Molly held up her hand toward her daughter. "I don't want to hear it! Ronald is your brother. You owe it to him to be on his side." Molly was walking around the kitchen now searching for something to do with her nervous energy because if she didn't soon, she felt as if she would explode.
"What? Are you saying Hermione isn't family, Mum? Because even you know she was family long before the pair of them even dared to think about having feelings toward one another. I'm not abandoning either of them. It's their choice what they choose to do, and shame on you!" Ginny paused and pointed toward Molly. "Shame on you for putting the blame on me, when it's them you should be speaking to and seeking the full story from! That bloody paper you hold in your hands doesn't share the truth - it doesn't hold the reason why this happened! Shame on you, Mum."
There were tears in Ginny's eyes now too, and Molly's heart sank at the sight of her daughter standing there before her angry and hurt because of what had been said in the heat of the moment. Though Molly was just as stubborn as Ginny, and instead of apologizing and attempting to work things out, she simply went about finishing up the dishes without another word spoken on the matter.
She saw out of the corner of her eye, Ginny slipping her wand from the pocket of the robes she wore and waving it toward the fridge. The door opened and out flung the fresh bowl of raspberries the pair of the picked together the previous day just after she and Harry arrived.
It was moments later where all that could be heard before silence fell upon the Burrow were the footsteps of Ginny stomping up the stairs and Molly setting the last of the clean dishes in the drainer to dry.
05/25/2020 08:07 PM
A Character Study.
1. Describe your characters first love. I would say Arthur truly is and always has been Molly’s love. They were never the pair who hated one another. They never played the back and forth game. There was never any doubt in either of their minds. Arthur was the one she loved.
They started off as friends in their first year at Hogwarts, and their friendship only developed and grew into more over the years.
Their friendship began on the train to Hogwarts when the shoes Molly wore kept causing her to stumble over herself because they were too big – hence the ‘Mollywobbles’ nickname Arthur often calls her. (Her mother had insisted she buy a size too big because she was at the age where her feet were growing nonstop.) Arthur, being one of many older siblings, was able to ‘show off’ a bit of magic he’d learned for Molly and shrink her shoes to the right size, and not long after when her feet did indeed grow out of that pair of shoes, Molly had learned the Engorgement Charm and was able to return them to their original size.
For those into the angsty, hopeless romantic love story. . . Molly and Arthur would not be the pair for you. The couple had a friendship which turned into love. Their love was simple yet beautiful. I believe their bond will last beyond the grave.
2. What frightens your character? The death of anyone in her family. Molly has always feared losing those she loves, and her fears became reality when her brothers (Gideon and Fabian) gave their lives toward the end of the FWW.
Many wonder why Molly can be so hard on her children (and even easily fired up toward Arthur) and if you take note of her anger, you’ll understand why. She’s scared when they do something that makes her internal fears of losing them come alive.
Now. . .she is a red-head, and her stubborn, hot-headed nature can arise at any moment, but one of the main reasons why this kind and loving woman can turn in an instant is when one of the members of her family are hurt or in danger.
3. How does your character communicate? Molly is very straight forward - she’s not one to kiss arse, so be prepared for her to be brutally honest with how she feels when she’s angry. (There were several canon moments when this happened: my personal favorite DH and her moment with Bellatrix or CoS and her moment with the boys when they stole the car.)
HOWEVER, that being said, Molly does have a passive aggressive side to her, and it normally comes out with those who are dating her children - save for Harry because he is one of her children - but with Fleur (very much with her) and even Hermione.
Molly is often known to be incredibly passive aggressive when she doesn’t like the ones her children choose to date, or when their spouses have done something to upset her (i.e. Molly did not take well to Fleur at first, but in order to please her son and not to push Bill away, she pretended - was ‘pleasant’ - with his fiancé. Even Hermione managed to hurt Molly when Rita Skeeters article came out about Hermione ‘distracting’ Harry during the Tri-Wizard Tournaments, and due to her devotion to both Ron and Ginny - because a mother always knows when her child has a crush - and her belief that it was Hermione’s fault Harry wasn’t fully (mentally) in the game, she was unpleasant with her.)
At the end of it all, I believe Molly truly is a communicator for the most part, but she has her negative qualities. . . however, she is a very kind, loving and encouraging woman who mothers everyone.
4. What was your characters childhood like? Growing up in the Prewett household was interesting to say the least. Mainly because Molly’s father was very much like Arthur – incredibly interested in Muggles, very easy going and laid back, and had a fascination and curiosity for any and everything really. Her father (Charles Prewett) could have a conversation with a wall, and it wouldn’t even be required to talk back to him. Molly loved him.
She found her father to be the one who made life fun and exciting whilst her mother was a different story entirely.
Her mother (Persephone Prewett) was a harsh and cold woman. It wasn’t easy to speak to her about anything, and she was always very critical of Molly because she had expectations for her daughter that Molly never seemed to meet. Persephone adored her eldest two children, and often claimed in front of both Molly and her younger brother (Bilius) that if it were up to her she would’ve only had two children and never conceived the pair of them.
‘The more children you have, the more responsibility you bear to ensure they make something of themselves and don’t make you look like a fool!” her mother would always say. “My dear Gideon and Fabian are both my pride and joy, but you two- ” Her mother would look toward Molly and a very young Bilius (who Molly was basically forced to raise during her Winter and Summer holidays along with her father due to her mother’s disinterest and Molly being ten years older than him and apparently old enough to raise a child ) with narrowed eyes when she spoke. “-are mistakes I wish I never made.”
Molly avoided her mother at all cost (which meant she avoided home as much as possible), and she did her best to keep Bilius out of Persephone’s way as well. Going to Hogwarts was the best thing that ever happened to Molly because she was away from her mother and her constant scrutiny toward her life choices.
During the holidays she dreamed of staying at school, but in order to protect her brother from their mother, she would return home – seeing as she didn’t get to see him during the school year and make sure he was okay.
Needless to say, being home was something Molly very much loathed. I truly believe this is why she chose to have a big family and make her home a humble abode - a safe haven - for when her children came home. She never wanted any of her children to feel the way she had felt. One should never, ever dread coming home.
5. What is your character’s favorite way to treat themselves? (Decided not to go with the sweets aspect and more so 'what activity') I would say a treat for Molly would be her morning cuppa before she begins her day. She’s not one to treat herself often with fancy things neither is she one to really sit for long periods of time because she’s constantly on the move. . . so I think for Molly her way of having something nice for herself is getting up early in the morning, sitting before the fire in the living room of the Burrow and enjoying her tea.
I also believe her other pleasure for herself is sitting down and knitting Christmas jumpers for her family. It’s something she enjoys doing. . . and it acts as a reward for herself when the chores are done.
6. How does your character handle stress? She cleans. . . and she cleans. . .and she cleans and she cooks and she cooks and she cooks some more. Molly is a very nervous doer. Notice how even canon in the books anytime there was something going on, Molly would always heighten her cleaning and cooking/baking when something was going down within the family or with Harry. She doesn’t do well sitting in silence and waiting. She’s always got to be moving, and that need to move only increases when stress is involved.
I definitely think this is a quirk of hers that could very much annoy her children, and I believe Arthur is so calm and collected that he’s learned her ways over the years and knows to leave her be when she’s manic but also knows how to calm her down when need be. (I am also not stating Molly is bi-polar. She is not. She’s just a very, very anxious woman)
7. Describe something about your character they are reluctant for others to know? Molly believes in a lot of ways she’s failed as an adult. There is a part of her that – though she loves her life – feels she should’ve done more for herself, so her children didn’t have to suffer living like they did. They never had enough money to afford each of them everything brand new, and though she’s very adamant about love being above ‘things’, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel guilty about not being able to afford new – or at least nice– things for her children. I think she regrets, in some ways, leaving her career as a Healer and opting to stay at home with her children instead.
Also. . .Molly is very self-conscious about herself. Though Arthur loves her dearly and has never made her feel anything more than loved, her self esteem is not the greatest, and she’s held onto a lot of hurtful words her mother said to her over the years that has been carried on with her into adulthood.
She hides behind her role and title as wife and mother and makes that her mission in life as to not dwell on how often she manages to feel down about herself. . . but there are times when the house is quiet and she takes even a breath for a break that the thoughts creep in. I would say that’s another reason why she cleans. . . it calms her mind and helps her to remain somewhat at ease.
8. Describe something your character is passionate about? There are not many ‘things’ Molly Weasley is passionate about, but one thing is for certain. . . Family, above all else, is the most important.
The passion and drive Molly holds for her family is beyond most can even begin to comprehend.
She’s spent a lot of her life sacrificing her own needs in order to take care of them – though, she wouldn’t have it any other way because family to her is the only thing in this life worth fighting and giving ones life for.
9. What does your character find comfort in? Family. I think for Molly being home with her family – when they are all there (or at least all of them who can be) . . . there is a sense of comfort in that for her.
Also. . .Arthur. Being with Arthur (in his arms / presence) is another place she finds comforting and safe.
Her husband and children are everything.
05/19/2020 07:49 PM
August 1977 - Date Night.
Molly stepped out of the room Bill and Charlie and Percy. . . and Nymphadora (who was currently sleeping on a make-shift cot Molly made for her to sleep in whilst she stayed over) all shared with one another at the Burrow and smiled as she turned.
Her wand was drawn from the pocket of her robes and flicked toward the light, and with an inaudible chant of ‘Nox’, the light flickered off upon command.
Though the light in the bedroom ceased, the one from the hall continued to shine through, allowing Molly to keep an eye on the children.
They were all fast asleep.
A pair of familiar arms came round her sides to rest at her middle, and Molly leaned back against Arthur who was now standing behind where she stood in the doorway of the children's bedroom.
“I don’t want to leave them,” she confessed.
“I know, my darling.” Arthur kissed her neck. Molly closed her eyes. “. . .but they are going to be alright. Andromeda and Ted will keep them safe.”
Molly sighed. “I know. I just-“ She paused and turned toward her husband, who had pulled her away from the doorway at this point and closed the door to the bedroom.
Molly leaned against the wall and looked to Arthur.
“There’s a war on. It’s not right to be leaving them all alone. What if- ?!”
Her words were cut off by his lips. He stole her words with several soft kisses. She closed her eyes and couldn’t help but smile and return the gesture, but she did finally pull away and hit him playfully in the arm.
“Arthur. I’m serious!”
“I am too. You can’t live in fear, Molly. Didn’t we decide that this was how we were going to raise our family – not to be afraid, nor to stop living our lives even with a war on.”
Molly was quiet a moment.
She knew he was right, but it didn’t mean she wished to admit it!
She was trying to make a point about how much she hated to leave her children!
. . . but she and Arthur had promised each other that every year on their anniversary they would go out and celebrate together – even during war time, and Molly wouldn’t break that promise to Arthur. . . no matter how much she didn’t want to leave the children.
“As much as it pains me to say in this very moment. . . you're right. You're right."
"Wipe that smug look off your face," Molly said as she lifted herself off the wall she'd been leaning on and made her way down the hall and stairs.
"What look?" Arthur followed behind.
"You know exactly what look, Weasley."
Andromeda and Ted greeted the pair of them at the bottom of the stairs.
Andromeda had a big grin spread across her lips.
“You two have fun." Her brows wiggled. "May tonight bring you another addition in nine months."
"What? Can't a sudo-Aunt hope for more nephews or perhaps a niece to love?"
Molly heard Arthur and Ted laugh. She shot daggers their way, and the pair raised their hands in surrender. Andromeda's smile only grew wider as Molly returned her attention to her cousin.
"Andy. You stop that right now."
Andromeda didn't answer. She merely leaned in and left a kiss against Molly's cheek.
“Take care of my children.” Molly changed the subject and gave Andromeda a stern stare as she pulled back.
Andromeda chuckled. “Oh Molly, you know we will.”
Molly nodded and looked to Ted. “Night, dear."
"Night, Molly. The children are in good hands."
Andromeda and Ted linked arms and made their way upstairs.
Molly smiled toward Arthur, drew her wand from the pocket of her robes once more, and headed to the fireplace to ready it for travel.
“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Arthur.
“We’re traveling by Floo, aren’t we?”
Arthur grinned. He didn’t even have to say a word before Molly knew that he had other plans of travel for them that evening – more particularly. . . they were taking one of the many cars Arthur had managed to smuggle home over the years (even before he worked for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department at the Ministry, Arthur was always bringing home Muggle nick-knacks. . . and automobiles!)
“No. No. No. No-no-no-no. Aboslutely not! I’ve told you: I will never!”
“Oh Come on, Mollywobbles.”
Molly glared when he used his nickname for her. “Don’t you Mollywobbles me, Arthur Weasley!” She pointed her wand in his direction as one would a finger. "I'm not riding in that car."
Arthur stepped forward. "I promise not to make it fly."
"Why not just take our brooms? If you're so keen on traveling by vehicle."
Molly could tell even Arthur who was usually quite understanding and patient was trying not to become frustrated. He'd made his way over to where she stood now.
"Would you please trust me? I have very special plans for this evening, and I'd appreciate it if my wife would allow me to drive her along the countryside."
Molly was quiet for several moments, but the anger and fear and rebellion against riding in something not controlled by magic had begun to dissipate. Her annoyance was replaced with a softness toward her husband whom she now realized had planned this entire evening for them.
"Okay. . . but I swear if one wheel is lifted off the ground to fly. . . or one sound from the engine roars as if the bloody thing is about to crash or explode, I'm Disapparating the hell out of there faster than you can say 'Chocolate Frogs', do you understand?"
Arthur grinned as if he came back to life the instant Molly gave him permission.
"Loud and clear, my love!" He leaned forward and left a kiss against her cheek.
He took Molly's hand, and on their way out with her wand still in her hand she flicked her wrist and turned off the remainder of the lights downstairs.
The pair of them made their way to the car and off they went to celebrate their anniversary of another year together . . . and about nine months later, Molly gave birth to the twins.
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