Molly Weasley

George and...

Mon, 20 Aug 2007 04:21:48 GMT

"Charlie, she's lovely. Is this the girl you--" I had been in the middle of asking Charlie about the girl I had seen him dancing with when something beyond him caught my attention.

And oh Merlin, I hoped I was seeing wrong.

Charlie looked closely at me, concerned. "Mum?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

I continued to gape, at a loss for words. Arthur noticed, too, and leaned down. "Molly, darling?"

"Ah...ah...George," I stuttered.

Charlie straightened and, seeing where my eyes were directed, turned. He coughed. "Oi, wasn't expecting that," he said.

Arthur's hand went around my waist. "Oh dear. Is that Rosmerta?" I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was concerned by what we were witnessing. Charlie responded by snorting some champagne up his nose and then looking concerned as he rubbed his nose.

Across the room was George, still in that ludicrous tiara, with Madam Rosmerta in a low dip. And they were kissing. He's far too close to be doing anything but kissing her.

"Now Molly," Arthur said, taking hold of my elbow. "I'll handle this, and in my own way. Don't you worry. I think Ginny needs you, though."

I couldn't stop staring at them, the sight of my one of my young son attaching his face to a woman over twice his age is too worrying.

"Dearest?" Arthur repeated.

I shook myself out of my hypnosis. "What?"

Arthur pulled at my arm and I stumbled along, my eyes still on George. They hadn't come up for air once and it must have been a half hour at least since I'd first noticed them. Then all of a sudden, they were hidden behind a large crowd and I found myself placed in front of Ginny.

I purse my lips and look down at the trunk before me. It's far too early to be going home; there are too many things to be done. Too many children to talk to. Too many things that can't wait until the next wedding to discuss.

Oh Merlin, the next wedding. Normally I would be ecstactic to think of my children marrying, but seeing George with a woman over twice his age has me concerned that he'll be marrying far outside his age-bracket.

Now I know Arthur said that he would deal with this himself, but I just cannot leave this alone. After looking around to see that nobody is around to see or hear, I walk out of Shell Cottage and walk until I'm outside the protective charms, then Apparate into Diagon Alley.

Wedding time!

Sun, 19 Aug 2007 02:37:36 GMT

I can’t pretend I understand many of the Muggle customs. I know Arthur wishes I did…well, I think he’s less concerned with customs as he is with eklectronics and makinationry, really. In any rate, as Hermione’s mother is a Muggle, Hermione wanted to add some Muggle customs in the ceremony. It is a very special day for Hermione and her mother—of course it is a special day for me, too, saying my sweet boy getting married—and I don’t wish to mess it up just because I don’t understand the meaning of something, so I prepared myself to really study hard.

However, Hannah’s explanation was remarkably simple, and I do confess, when she told me I almost ended up crying right there. The mothers lighting the candles of our children. The children lighting the candle of unity. Joining two families and two flames together…

…oh Merlin, and now I’m crying again.

I look over at Hannah, who gives me a small smile. I can see that she’s tearing up as well.

I square my shoulders and clear my throat. “Well, let’s get on with this or our children are never going to get married.”

"I agree," she says with a chuckle. "There will be plenty of time for tears later."

Together, we walk up the center aisle created by the chairs, take a lighted candle from the holders on either side of the podium, and step up to the unity candle. On either side is a candle, one signifying Ron and the other, Hermione. I look at her and we both nod, tipping our candles down and lighting the wicks for our children.

Awaiting an explanation

Wed, 15 Aug 2007 07:17:07 GMT

I’ve not let on that I’ve noticed, but I have. Hermione has The Glow. Having been pregnant myself six times, I’ve seen it in myself enough times to be able to tell. I can’t see that they would have planned to be pregnant before they were married, they know my feelings on that (not that I expect them to do something just because I prefer it).

But I’m not going to let on that I know. At least I’m not going to say anything. I don’t want to have to ask my own children if they’re expecting, they should tell me themselves when they’re going to have a baby.

That doesn’t mean I can’t try to force it out of them.

I have tried a few things the past few days: talking about the little twins, fussing over Ginny (who is really showing now, I hardly recognize her as my little baby girl anymore), telling stories about Ron when he was a baby…so fussy. I suppose some things never change.

She knows I know, but she hasn’t said a word. It’s only a matter of time. If baby stories won’t do it…eggs will.

When my special omelet is finished cooking through, I place it on a plate and garnish it with a few edible flowers I found in Fleur’s garden. Then I take it up to Hermione’s room and knock. “Hermione, dear, I thought I would bring you breakfast in bed, since you’ve been working so hard.”

I hear her moving around, probably coming out of the bathroom. She opens the door to the bedroom, and her face is pale. Her eyes open wide as the sight and smell of eggs hit her and she claps a hand over her mouth, running for the bathroom again.

I walk into the room and stand by her bed with the tray as I hear her retch into the chamber pot. “Oh my, Hermione sweetheart, are you sick?” I call in when there is a pause.

I hear the water running and she comes out again with her hair plastered to her face. "I've been a bit under the weather," she says evasively. "I don't get enough rest and my hours at work are long... " She looks at me and I know that she knows I'm not buying it.

“It’s nothing catching, is it?” I say, brushing her bangs from her forehead, coincidentally moving the omelet directly under her nose. Merlin, that’s one thing I don’t miss, the morning sickness. “If so, we should move you to the other part of the house, away from the babies.”

"Please -" she says, looking positively green at the omelet. "I can't bear the smell of that anymore. And no, nothing catching." She sighs with resignation. "Molly, Ron and I are having a baby. But I'm guessing you already know, don't you?"

I set the tray on the bedside table and cross my arms. “I did. And why did it take you so long to tell me this? I am only here for a week, after all, and I would have liked to know as soon as I arrived.”

She sits down on the bed. "I was afraid of what you would think. I mean, Ron and I aren't married yet. And in case you are wondering, I can honestly say we didn't move up the wedding because of it. I have only known for less than a month.”

I sit beside her, my arms still crossed, and look at her. “Hermione dear, I am disappointed that you and my Ron didn’t wait, but you already know that. I know that in the heat of things, it is hard to remember to do a charm. I may not be happy that you are pregnant during your wedding, but I am happy for you that you have a family to look forward to. New life is never something to be ashamed of.”

I sigh and look toward the dresser. Merlin knows I wish I could be around to help them with the baby. Two of my children are going to be parents and I have to stay in Japan, not that it’s so bad anymore with my embroidery job and Percy to take care of.

She gives me a small smile. "It was so hard when I first found out. With Ron's training and my job at the Ministry, not having regular hours that I could count on, I found out on Monday, but I couldn't tell Ron ‘til Thursday. It just about killed me, and I almost called you, just to have someone to talk to. But I thought Ron should be the first person to know. Well, except for my boss. Because of the nature of my job the Healer suggested I tell her because of what I am exposed to."

She chuckles lightly. "Ron isn't happy about me working, but you know me. I never could sit still. The Ministry gives me six weeks maternity leave, but I honestly don't know how I could think about leaving our child to be looked after by another person. Maybe by then I'll have my own project and can work it so that Ron will be home when I'm at work and can look after our baby.”

I purse my lips and look toward the door. “Hermione, I can say that I agree with Ron about that. Being a mother is hard work, and extremely tiring. Even if you both put in equal amounts of work, you will hardly have any time to sleep or even rest, let alone go to a job.”

Ron appears in the open doorway, staring behind him down the stairs. "Good morning, love. I reckon everyone else is downstairs eating breakfast, so since I saw your door was open and it's been such a pain in the arse to sleep apart, I thought maybe you were feeling good enough for a bit of a-" He finally swings his gaze around into the room and immediately turns the most startling shade of magenta. "Mum! Er, er, er, I didn't know you were up here... I-"

Seeing him standing in the doorway the colour of a tomato, I’m reminded of the night I barged in on them…in the act. I sit up straight, bristling. “Ronald, I see you two weren’t as careful as you claimed.”

"Uh, uh, er...well, we were, Mum! Every single time except just that once - and she did use hers, but I didn't because - " He fires a panicked glance at Hermione and looks almost as if he's about to be as ill as she just was. "Well, never mind the because...But I mean, all of those other times, all of those times - we - " Yes, he stops and seems to realize he's describing in detail to his mother just how randy he - or maybe the two of them - are. I hear a muffled sound from under his breath that sounds vaguely like one seriously awful swear word. Good thing for him I can't be sure.

I raise my eyebrow at him and he gulps. “Well I hope you’re prepared, young man, for the responsibilities of raising a small, vulnerable baby. You of course realize this means you’ll need to teach it every little thing: how to use the loo, how to wipe up after, the meaning of every single thing in the universe. And until it can do everything for itself, it will be up to you to clean up after it…and there will be a lot of cleaning up. From all ends.”

"I know, I - I...I mean, we-" I have a feeling any response is beyond him now, since he turns and looks at Hermione with a plea on his face.

Hermione doesn't look quite as green now, as though she already knows what a job it will be. "Molly, Ron and I both know that we'll have a long road ahead of us. But like Ron said, our baby will be half and half of two thirds of the trio that defeated Voldemort." I look at her and she laughs. "Honest, that's what he said the night I told him. Anyway, no baby will be loved more and besides, he'll have a little cousin who is close to his own age to play with."

I cross my arms again and frown. “I know you think you can handle this, Hermione. Tell me, how did you fair with little Charlie and Mattieu?”

Hermione gulps and looks down at her feet. "Well, I didn't. But to be honest, I have grown a lot since then. Ask Ron, I even have been doing some cooking. You would be surprised at how domesticated that I have become since you and Arthur left. Our baby will be the most important thing in my life, which is really leaving me in a quandary what to do after he's born. I want to work as long as I can, but honestly, I'm not sure that I will want to leave him after he's born. I told Ron - I know that breast milk is best for a baby, so I'm going to do what Fleur did and nurse."

"Yeah, yeah, she has - and she did! She did say that," Ron blurts out, turning to me. It leaves me wondering if he really has that little to say about it, or if he's just trying to gain points with Hermione for being supportive.

“Well I certainly hope you have grown up since then, Hermione. Sitting the twins for a night and having a baby of your own are two completely different things. And I know you think you know this already, but you can’t possibly know what it means to devote your entire life to one tiny little person until you’ve given birth.”

Then I turn to Ron. “Enjoy the marriage bed while it lasts, you two. You won’t have much energy left for it when the time comes.”

Hermione looks at Ron. "Ron, I'm sure you're hungry. Would you like to eat that omelet that your mum brought up? Either eat it or get rid of it or else I'm going to be heading back into the bathroom."

"I, erm, already ate thinking that we might - " He stops before starting into that again, but then looks quite ready to jump at the chance to be gone. "I can take it downstairs though. In fact, I can get rid of it right now if - "

“Just a moment, Ronald,” I say, grabbing hold of his arm. “You sit yourself down right this instant. I will take care of the omelet.”

I can see a glimmer of hope when I say this, but instead of taking it down there manually, I pull out my wand and send the plate downstairs with a single wave. “There.”

"Oh," he mumbles, looking into his lap as glumly as the day Fred and George did in his pet puffskein, Killer. "Thanks, Mum."

Hermione looks gratefully at me. "You know I love your cooking but... one more minute with that in the room and I would not be responsible for my stomach."

I frown deeper. “Not responsible for your own stomach? I would say that you are most definitely responsible for it, young lady. Whose responsibility is it for your being pregnant? I don’t care who forgot what, it is both your responsibility. The moment you laid together made you responsible.

“And let me just tell you this. You had better harden your stomachs well before this baby comes, because you will be up to your elbows in some of the most stomach-turning stuff a person can make.”

"Oh, believe me," Hermione says, glancing at Ron, "I know all about gross. Remember I lived with Ron and Harry since the beginning of the year. Though Harry was pretty neat. I guess it was from living with the Dursleys. But Ron - well, what was it that you were looking for in that room that used to be yours Ron?"

"It was...I dunno...something," he says, frowning. "Besides, what good would it have done to clean it up? Didn't look any worse than the rest of the cottage after that Lestrange witch got through with it."

“Oh, I am well aware of how messy Ron can be,” I say. “But don’t think that just because you’ve lived with two young men for a few months that you are prepared for this. I will have you know that, while raising my seven lovely children, I have been thrown-up on more times than I care to count, the twins used to do target practice with my face while I changed them, I have had more robes ruined from sour stomach than I can afford to throw away, the smell of butterpants is imbedded into the nursery walls, and shite was just a way of life.”

I see Ron's face looking rather like he's smelling it all now, but then it softens a little. "But Mum, it didn't seem like you hated it all the time. You never let us feel like you did."

I look at him and put one of my hands on his cheek. “Sweetheart, it was some of the most horrible stuff I have ever had to deal with, but I gladly did and with a smile on my face because I loved you all so much. I just want you to know what to expect…because raising a baby is not all sunshine and rainbows.”

Hermione gets a wistful smile on her face. "Well, you are talking to two of the people who defeated Voldemort. We have dealt with a giant chess game, Polyjuice potion, being Petrified, battles, and countless other things, plus Ron and I have beaten the forces which tried to keep us apart, I'm sure that whatever our baby throws at us, figuratively and literally, though it won't be a piece of cake, will be worth it."

“Well then I hope you enjoy a face-ful of shite. Because there is a lot of that. At least there was with the twins.”

"Mum, everyone still gets a faceful of shite from Fred and George from time to time. But Hermione's right. I was...kinda surprised at first when Hermione told me, to be honest, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it for a while. But I reckon if it was supposed to happen like this, then it was. And if we can manage to make as good a family together as ours was, most of the time when I was growing up, we can get through the hard stuff. I don't see why we wouldn't feel the same about our baby as you and Dad felt about us. How can that be bad?"

“Sweetheart, I have no doubt in my heart that you will love this baby every bit as much as your father and I loved you. I know you are strong, and it isn’t because you defeated You-Know-Who. A wizard can beat the most evil wizard in the world with the best of intentions, but that doesn’t make him prepared for a child. I don’t want you putting so much faith in that, do you hear me? I am proud of you both for what you did, but defeating him doesn’t account for anything when it comes to parenting.”

"I know, Mum. I dunno about Hermione, but I'm not claiming I'll be good at this having a baby thing, just that I'll try. I've found out I was all right at a lot of things I thought I'd never be able to do - if I tried." He pauses, thinking. "Does anyone ever know if they'll be good at it ahead of time?"

I shake my head. “Nobody I’ve met,” I say. “There are some who are sure of themselves, sure that they are prepared and none of them had any clue.”

"I'm just glad that my mum will be here to help me. I know that it won't be easy. You weren't much older than Ron and I when you had Bill, were you?" Hermione asks, looking at me. "Were you scared that first time?"

I feel a sharp twinge of regret when she says the first bit. Why can’t I be here to help? Why do I have to be away from my family, who needs me? Or do they need me after all? I straighten my shoulders and try not to let the thoughts overtake me as I answer, “Of course I was. I didn’t want to make a single mistake with my baby. I didn’t want to raise him wrong and have him turn into a little beast, or for him to hate me. I can’t tell you how many things I thought were sure to go wrong and how many different ways I could betray my child by raising him less than perfectly.”

"But far as we can tell, all of us, well -" he pauses and I narrow my eyes a moment, hoping he's not going to say anything about Percy, "- we turned out pretty much all right, didn't we? Maybe some of us aren't all that brilliant, but you didn't raise any Death Eaters, or Mundungus Fletchers, or You-Know-Whos. I mean, overall, how bad a lot are we? Considering you and Dad started out...pretty much like Hermione and me? Maybe a bit older?"

Hermione smiles sadly. "You did a wonderful job with all your children, Molly." She seems to sense the pain I am feeling because she comes over to me and gives me a hug. "I want you to know that I have missed you these past months and I will never forget what you and Arthur have done for me. You have always been like another family to me." I can hear her voice choking up.

I take a deep breath and squeeze her in return. Then I push her away and clear my throat. “I’m happy for you two. I have no doubt that this baby will be raised with more than enough love. Now, I do hope you will excuse me. I’ve some breakfast dishes that need cleaning and an entire trunk full of robes to be mended.”

I see Hermione shoot Ron some kind of look that obviously says a great deal. Though he doesn't sound especially enthusiastic, he does speak up. "Mum, er, I can help with the dishes." I try not to smirk as he glances back at Hermione again. "If you want."

I shake my head, though I know I am crazy to pass up such an offer from him. “That’s very sweet, Ron, but I think I need some time alone,” I say. “Unless there was something you needed to talk with me about.”

Suddenly he looks panicked again. "Er, talk? No, I , erm, no I don't think so. I, erm, if you're sure about the dishes then, all right. That's fine."

I raise my eyebrow at this. Why is he all of a sudden panicking about talking? Before I can ask, though, Hermione goes over and gives Ron a hug and a kiss. "I need to go shower and get ready for work."

"You all right now then?" Ron asks her, his eyes focusing easily on hers now, and his hand lingering on her waist, so different from all those years of awkwardness with one another. "Reckon I'll see you when we both get home?"

She looks a bit uncomfortable. "Actually, I'm going to go stay with my mum til Saturday. I haven't seen her much and well," she looks from me to Ron, "maybe you'd like some time with your mum."

"Oh yeah, that's right - forgot you'd said you were going to your mum's. Forgot what day it is, really." He flashes her a teasing grin. "Hope I don't forget when it's Saturday."

"I'll call you and remind you," she teases back. She puts her hand on her stomach and smiles. "I can't wait ‘til I can feel our little one moving around.”

I can tell Ron's a bit unnerved at Hermione saying that in front of me while they're both standing here both very unmarried, but he does his best to slide right past it. "Right then, well, see you Saturday then - if you call to remind me. Otherwise, I'll be here after work. I reckon it will be good to have us all together for a bit."

Hermione smiles at the two of us, grabs clothes from the wardrobe and heads into the bathroom.

I watch her until the door has closed and then stand. “Come on then, Ronald. Let’s go take care of those dishes, shall we?”

He looks surprised that he didn't get out of it after all. "I thought you said-?" But he apparently doesn't really want to take it any farther than that. "Never mind," he says and waits for me to walk out of the door, following close behind.

I smile, despite the sadness that has settled in my stomach. I don’t want him to know how upset I am, because this is Hermione’s and his special week. But I am upset. I don’t know that anybody aside from Arthur knows how desperately I wish I could be here at home with my children as they start their new families. Look at all I have already missed.

A talk with my Charlie

Tue, 31 Jul 2007 04:01:13 GMT

I look in on Percy asleep in his bed. It is so good to see him again and to hear his voice. To hear him call me Mum, even if he doesn’t accept that I am. But it is difficult to hear him reject the name Arthur and I spent so long choosing for him. Not that he would be able to use it now that he is here in Japan, but I don’t think he’ll be able to use Rouge, either.

I slide the paper door closed and walk down the hall to find Charlie. Oh Merlin, I have missed him. As a mother, I may not have any favourites, but Charlie and I were the closest. He humoured me when Ron moved away by staying and letting me cook for him. He let me fix his burns from the dragon reserve. He would have tea with me when the others were too busy.

I find him in the back room, which is looking out on our little garden. It is the traditional zen garden that are so popular here, with the raked gravel everywhere and the small creek with the waterfall, but I have taken a small circle in the middle to grow some vegetables. It is a lovely garden, and I have found it calming. I wonder as I walk into the room and rest my hand on Charlie’s shoulder, if he does, too.

"Hullo, Mum," he says warmly. "I can't believe I'm going back tomorrow. I've loved being here with you.”

He pats the place on the sofa next to him. "Would you sit down with me and have a talk for old time's sake?" he asks

I pat his cheek fondly and smile as I sit beside him. “You cannot tell how happy I have been seeing you again, Sweetheart. And our Percy. Your father and I thought we would never see him again.”

"Mum, are you sure you have him? I mean, Fleur and I found him, but he's not him. I don't know if he will ever be him again," he says sadly.

I feel the sting again, like the one when I have to call him by his other name. “No, we don’t,” I admit. “And we most likely never will, I know, but this is as close to having him back as we will ever be. It is the closest Arthur and I will be to being with our family again.”

I look into his eyes. “Do you know what’s going on, Charlie? Why Arthur and I escaped?”

"Some. Something to do with Light and Zemelda Smith and people getting Obliviated. We have a new enemy, but they are much more subtle than Voldemort's bunch." He takes my hand. "Is there anyway you and Dad and Percy can come home in a few months? We could put the Burrow under the Fidelus. I’ d even be your secret keeper if you wanted."

I look around our small apato. I have grown fond of it over the past months, but it isn’t home. Even my job at the kimono shop hasn’t kept my mind off England. “I don’t know, Charlie, I really don’t. I don’t know what’s happening, only that it is unsafe for Arthur at home and he is worried about my well-being. Merlin knows I miss the Burrow, and I hate to be away from all my children. We’ll have to talk to Arthur about that.”

"You do that, Mum. Tell Dad. There are so many things I want to talk to you about, and you aren't there. Maybe sometimes you even want to talk to me." He puts his arm around me.

“All the time,” I say and kiss his cheek. “I miss you letting me mother you. Now! Let’s stop with this moody nonsense. It’s wasting too much of our precious time left. How have you been? I hear you’re going to be a professor?”

"Yes, Professor Weasley, Care of Magical Creatures, Flying, and Quidditch. You have any great advice for me, Mum? How to teach? How to keep the little buggers from starting a riot in my classroom?”

“Just be yourself, dear,” I answer. “I know it sounds cliché, but think back to school and all the teachers you wanted to skive off from and all the ones you wanted to stay in their classes. Don’t try to pretend you didn’t skive off, Charlie, I know you did.

“I don’t try to pretend I know all about teaching. I was never a professor myself. It’s important to be approachable, though. But don’t let them think they can walk all over you. They need to know you have authority, but that you will only use it fairly.”

"Mum, you were always teaching us. You're the best teacher I had. So maybe I should just try to emulate you." He smiles. "Mum, I have a witch I really care about. She doesn't feel the same about me, but well, I know she's the one. I don't know how I'll make things right between us, but I can't see myself with anyone else."

I feel a swell of pride when I hear this. Charlie has finally found his match and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he is serious. “I am sure it’s not true that she doesn’t feel the same. What witch wouldn’t wish to be with my Charlie? Perhaps she just needs a bit of time to realize.” I smile and pat his cheek. “I’m sure it will work out for you. Now don’t pressure her, but don’t keep your distance. She can’t fall in love with a person who isn’t there.”

"Okay, Mum. I'll trust your judgment." He flashes his dimples. "Don't you even want to ask her name?"

“Of course I do!” I say. “I am your mother, after all.” I shake my head and click my tongue at myself. “I think I am losing my touch. Another four months in Japan and I’ll want to keep out of your business completely. We can’t have that, Charlie.

“Right then, what is the lucky girl’s name? How did you meet? What does she do? Who is her family?”

"Megan Jones. She's a reporter, Ron's year, Hufflepuff. I met her on New Years and she did a story on the reserve after that. We've become best friends. Well, we were best friends until she found out I was in love with her. Her father is a Wizard, her mum's a Muggle, little sister is a Gryffindor. Welsh family--makes great honeycake." He grins. "She's smart and loyal and beautiful and kind and good and funny. She's organized and methodical--not impulsive like me. She's much more sensible than I am," he adds self-deprecatingly.

“She sounds like a good match for you,” I say. “She’ll balance you out and I’m sure you balance her out as well. And I’m glad to hear she bakes well. Somebody has to make sure you eat right while I’m not around. Will we get to meet her?” I say before remembering that Arthur and I are in exile in Japan.

"I'll make sure she's at the wedding, Mum. If Ron doesn't invite her, I will. And you start working on Dad. Maybe you can come home by Christmas? I'm serious about putting the Burrow under the Fidelus. I'll make enough gold to support you and Dad and Percy. Just come home. Please?"

“I couldn’t ask you to support us, sweetheart. You need to start saving up for a family of your own!” I squeeze his hand. “I’m sure Kimoko will allow me to send in my embroidery. They have been a great help to us here and I am sure if we asked, they would allow for some sort of arrangement.”

"What is Dad doing to help support you, Mum?" he asks softly.

“He is working against…the Light, you said? Unlike the…European system, the Asian group trusts the family. I don’t know much about it, only that he is employed by them and they have helped us out a great deal. They have no respect for your father’s enemies

“He supports me well, sweetheart. I only have this job because I feel useless without something to do. And I am lonely for companionship when your father is working.”

"Could he still work for them while in hiding in England?" he asks tentatively.

“He might,” I say. “I’m not really sure what sort of work he’s doing or what they could want him to do in England. It is worth asking, though.”

"I'll leave that to you then, Mum." He leans over and kisses my forehead, much like I used to kiss him when he was a little boy. "I miss you. We all do."

I hug him tight and feel tears start to leak out. “Oh sweetheart, I miss you all, too.”

He keeps his arm around me, letting me cry into his shoulder. "I love you, Mum."

“I love you too, Charlie,” I say, hoping inside that there is a way Arthur and I can return.

Missing my kin

Mon, 16 Apr 2007 02:07:04 GMT

I sit under the cherry blossom tree in the onsen (it means hot springs resort, I found out) and pet the silk obi I am embroidering. Japan has such a beautiful culture and beautiful crafts to keep me busy. Since I am not yet familiar with embroidering on Japanese silk, Noda-sama's wife Minami-chan suggested I work on an obi since they are long and mistakes can be easily hidden.

But embroidery isn't busy work and it can't take my mind away from England.

Hitoru-san walks out onto the cedar deck and bows to me. "Fushicho-san, you have a visitor here for you."

I freeze. "A visitor?" I stutter. With the slight bit of glamour on my face and height, I am not immediately recognizable as Molly Weasley, but anybody looking for a red-haired foreigner would question me. "Did they leave a name?"

"Nodoka Minami-san, I believe."

"Oh, Minami-chan, thank Merlin."

"I am sorry, Fushicho-san, she is alone and did not mention if a Merlin-sama would be joining you later."

I frown and then laugh, trying to cover my relief and self-disgust at my slip-up. "Oh, that's fine, Hitoru-san. I've just remembered that Malin-chan couldn't make it today. Might I borrow a pot to make some tea?"

Hitoru bows again. "Of course. I will direct your friend to the pagoda and leave a set for you to use."

"Arigato, Hitoru-san," I say, bowing in return.

I fold the obi and place it in the new sewing basket I bought with Minami's help. By the time I reach the pagoda, Minami is already there and setting out to make tea. "Oh please, let me," I say, resting my hand on hers. "You have done too much for me already."

Minami smiles and sits back, placing her hands in her lap. "Hello Chori-chan. How are you coming along?"

I pause. "I am adjusting," I say, pouring the hot water over the tea leaves. The bitter aroma lifts into the air almost immediately. "The texts you have lent me have helped considerably. I have learned honourifics and simple greetings quite well by now and have started to learn some phrases."

"Gambatte kudasai," she says, giving me an encouraging smile.

"Arigato gozaimasu, Minami-chan," I answer with a smile.

She nods. "Very good. You are learning well.

"But Chori-chan, your eyes to not look happy."

I sigh. "I miss my family," I say. "My little girl is pregnant and I fear I won't be there to see my granddaughter be born. I'm sure she will be fine. Her husband is a strong wizard and he can protect her. All my sons are very capable and can look after themselves."

"I understand. You wish for them not to worry?"

"Yes. And I wish...I wish I could see them. Just...the house has always been so full. Now Arthur and I are alone and I don't see him often. He is always with Noda-san. And we need to pretend we aren't who or what we really are. All for something I don't understand. At least with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I knew who we were facing. There is no face to this and no name. In many ways, it is much worse."

She nods again. "Here, we call him Moraushi. It means to receive death."

I sigh again. "Yes. And many did."

The tea is ready and I pour her cup, then move to pour mine. She puts her hands on mine and shakes her head. "One must never pour for ones self," she instructs and takes the pot from me.

"Sumimasen," I say, bowing.

She smiles again. "You are doing very well. I assume you do little else but study and embroider?"

"It keeps me busy."

She lifts her cup. "Noda asked me to tell you that there is an apato in the Maho district he thinks you would like. It is small but there is a small park behind it with beautiful momiji trees. Onsen are expensive, even for short stays."

"What is an apato?"

"It is what you would call a flat."

I sip slowly at the strong, translucent tea. Renting a flat makes this situation feel so permanent and though I realize it very likely is, I don't want to think it. "I'll talk it through with Ar...Chosha tonight."

Minami smiles at me. "Don't be disheartened."

Necessary vacation

Thu, 05 Apr 2007 01:08:24 GMT

Percy hasn’t sent one of my letters back for a little while now. I must say I am worried about this. At first I thought it was because he finally saw the error of his ways and wanted to reconcile, but when I got no letters from him, I began to get concerned.

I thought of asking Arthur if he’d seen him at work, but I know how Arthur can be when Percy is mentioned. He’s been a bit secretive of late, too. I think work is getting to him again, because he is always out in that tool shed of his. I don’t want to give him more stress by talking about Percy.

I shake my head and stir the stew. It’s a bit large for just us two, but Charlie might like the leftovers for his next day off. Or I could pack it up for Arthur’s lunch tomorrow.

Arthur bursts through the door. "Darling, you're here." He hugs me anxiously. "Now that the reception is over, I think it's time we take that vacation the boys gave me for my birthday. Why don't you get packed? Don't pack too much though. I've had a little extra put aside and you can buy a few things on the trip too."

I feel myself perking up at the idea. A vacation could be just what the two of us need to take our minds off our troubles. I smile and kiss his cheek. “The stew’s just now done. Why don’t you set the table while I throw a few things in a bag for us, dear,” I say and make for the stairs.

"I'll stir the stew. You pack. We can hurry and eat and then take off." He accios the tickets the boys gave him and puts them into his cloak pocket.

I hurry up to our room and start to collect a few things for the both of us. I make double sure I’ve packed his extra vial of medication, then draw the string on the bag. I’ve only packed a few robes, the least thread-bare ones I could find and some essentials. I know Arthur said I could buy some things on the trip, but I’m not sure I can get used to that idea. He did say he’d gotten a raise and that we could take it easier, but…well, I’ve been pinching knuts for so long, it’s become something of a habit.

Finally, I’ve finished our packing and return to the kitchen. “Thank you for watching to stew, Darling,” I say, kissing him on the cheek. “Now let’s eat.”

He eats in a bit of a hurry, in spite of looking over at me and smiling several times. He gets up before it's all finished. "I can help you wash, dear."

I nod and gather my dishes. His anxious mood has started to affect me. “Thank you,” I say and walk with him to the sink. I think to ask him why he’s hurrying so much, but perhaps he just wants to get on with our vacation.

We finish up the dishes and Arthur grabs our bag. He pulls the port-key out of his pocket. "Ready dear?" I nod and grab the port-key. Moments later, we're standing in Paris.

I look around me and smile. Already I can feel the worry from home melt away. “Ahhh,” I sigh. “This is just what we need, some time away. How many days are they giving you off?”

He looks at me in a funny way. He stutters, "W-Well, I took a few weeks. It was overdue and I insisted. I-I thought we could go to m-more than Paris."

The worry from home may have melted away, but Arthur’s behavior is making a new worry emerge. “More than Paris?” I say. I want to be careful. I don’t want him to get upset and make his condition flair up, but there’s something he’s not telling me. And it seems to be about work.

"I thought we might make it an expanded vacation. Paris, then maybe on to Turkey, or the Orient. Make it a real second honey m-moon." He smiles warmly, but there is something else in his eyes.

I look into his eyes, the ones I have always found so honest, and wish I knew what was in them now. Concern, I see. He’s concerned. I place a hand on his cheek to let him know I’m not angry. “Arthur, sweetheart, do you want to leave Europe?”

"Well, we can still spend several days in Europe, but yes, I think we need to go somewhere else after here. South America or Africa or Asia. Whatever you like. I have the galleons."

“Can you tell me why?” I ask and he shakes his head. “Alright, then I won’t ask why. I trust you. But dear…if you would feel better leaving Europe now, we can. After all, I’ve already seen France.”

A few people nearby hear this and turn to give me disgusted looks but I ignore this. “If you say we need to leave, there must be a very good reason, so I will go wherever you think we need to go.”

He takes me in his arms. "Oh Merlin, Molly, I don't deserve you. Let's get the port-key. You choose the continent."

I raise up on my toes and kiss him. “Of course you do, dear,” I say. “We were born for each other, you know. Now, as for where to go, do you know I have always been curious about the Orient?”

He nods, looking relieved. "The Orient it is, then. Japan, I think." He buys the port-key to Japan and minutes later we're in Tokyo.

What a long day

Wed, 21 Mar 2007 06:25:00 GMT

What an exhausting day. With the scare of the dress, which I practically went blind sewing— hand-making that lace, I’ll have you know! –to Ginny’s news, I’ve been in a right state all day. There is still so much to be planned and now I’ve Ginny’s health to keep in mind. Will there be enough food? Is there anything that would make her sick? Do I have to rethink this whole menu?

I climb the stairs, worn out from the day, and make for my room when I hear an odd knocking. I stop on the landing and look around. The sound seems to be coming from Ron’s room. That’s odd. He had told me hours ago that he was heading up to bed.

I stop to listen and the knocking stops for a moment. I step toward the landing of the next set of stairs when the knocking returns, this time a little louder. I’m not sure I like this. If we’ve another ghoul in the house, that will need to be dealt with before he sets roots.

I take my foot from the bottom stair and walk toward the door. The knocking is becoming more insistent and I can now here another sound underneath it. It sounds like a hooting owl. Is that right? Maybe a cat. Or a cross between the two.

The more I listen, the uneasier I become. I reach for the handle and almost break it off when I hear a much louder sound, as if Ron is being strangled. Without a second thought, I rush into the room and throw light into the room with my wand.

"What the f-? Bloody hell!! MUM!"

I see Ron jump from his bed, quite obviously far from being strangled, and quite alright, aside from the fact that he is completely starkers. And if I'm not mistaken - I gasp, feeling my face go hot and at the same time he reaches behind him and grabs his pillow, shoving it in front of his... quite alert nakedness.

I gape at him and see that his entire face is beet red and glistening with perspiration. “Ron, what th…wh…what in Merlin’s name were you doing? Please don’t tell me that if I look at that bed, I’m going to find Hermione there.”

He cringes. "Then don't look, Mum."

I turn. I see Hermione. My face goes hot and I am speechless for a moment before flailing my wand around the room. The door slams shut and the walls seal the sound in. Then I stand there, looking from one to the other, waiting for them to explain.

Hermione is the first to find her voice. "I promise, we used a charm."

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” I storm. “You used a charm? You used a sodding charm?! Well that’s damned lucky, because you wouldn’t want to be popping out babies when you’re not even married!”

Ron looks as if he's trying to pull himself together to face the music, not that he hasn't had to a thousand times before. Just not in these dire of circumstances.

“Ronald?” I say in my quiet, angry voice. “Am I going to have to ask you to explain yourself? You don’t want me to have to ask you, Ronald.”

Ron's face is still beet red and still perspiring, but I expect it's from other reasons now. "All right, all right. Mum, Hermione was just trying to tell you that we - we're - being careful. About babies, I mean. Please don't yell at her. I wouldn't want to be having babies without being married either. In fact - " He starts to say something, then apparently thinks better of it because he stops and shakes his head. "And there's one reason she's here - and one reason we're together like this - because I love her and I need her with me and I talked her into it."

At first I feel myself melting at his confession, but then I remember myself and straighten up. “You talked her into it, did you?” I say. “You talked her into bed? Ron…Ron, I’m disappointed in you. I would have thought…couldn’t you have waited? Your sister did! Harry did!” I know that Bill, Charlie, and the twins didn’t, but I don’t feel I need to bring this up. “I suppose your little friend was a bit too overexcited, was he?”

"My friend? Uh - Mum, he's not my fr - well, maybe he - Wait, what the hell am I saying?" Ron looks rather addled again by that remark.

"Ron, I can't let you do this," Hermione says, pulling the covers up over her naked body as she sits up in his bed. "Molly, don't believe that. Ron - Ron and I love one another and the truth is that," she pauses, trying to figure out what she is saying, "Ron and I belong together and he didn't talk me into it. I am here because I love him and because I want to be with him."

I am not going to let myself melt again. “Part of love,” I tell Hermione, “Is patience.”

Ron takes a deep breath and sighs. "You know how long we finally figured out we were in love with each other, Mum? Even when we wouldn't admit it? Somewhere around five years. That's over a fourth of our lives. Five years! Don't you reckon we oughta get credit for being patient for waiting five years?" He pauses for a minute, thinking. "And it got to the point there, that if we didn't make love, if we ignored what we were feeling - even physically - much longer, it was going to destroy us. The whole thing. I...we...couldn't let that happen." He sits down on the bed next to Hermione and puts his arm around her protectively - and, I notice, lovingly.

Well, even though I am happy to see that they love each other and they’re happy with each other, I still don’t like the idea of them acting out their affections under my own roof. And in the bed Ron grew up in. I cross my arms, knowing that no matter what I say, it’s not going to change a thing. They’re going to keep doing the same thing because they’ve made up their minds to do it.

“Could you possibly wait until you return to your cottage?” I ask. “Or at the very least, soundproof the room? I thought you were being strangled by a ghoul.”

"Er, um, actually we did. I reckon we need a stronger charm." Ron's ears at least have the decency to blush again at that.

Hermione smiles at me sheepishly. "I'm sorry that we put you in an awkward position," she says quietly. "It appears we tend to do that a lot, first with the fighting and now this. But we made a promise to one another," she says with a smile, holding out her left hand, "and we know that this is for good."

I stare at the ring. “You mean you’re engaged?” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

"Er, uh...because we're not exactly engaged, Mum. It's a promise ring. That means pretty much everything about the way we feel about each other is the same as being engaged, just that, erm, I don't have the means to take care of her right yet is all. So when I do, then maybe... And it also means we have a promise that we do whatever it takes to stay together - anyway, that's what I promised her I'd do."

Not exactly engaged? Promise ring? This isn’t making me feel much better about this. “Being engaged doesn’t mean you have to set a date,” I point out. “It’s just a commitment that you will get married eventually. I’ve known people who were engaged for years before they got married, because they committed themselves to each other and were just waiting to get the money together.”

Molly, you’re pushing, I tell myself. You know what happens when you push.

But I really don’t care. This whole promise ring thing, while very sweet, just doesn’t feel as solid as an engagement.

Hermione smiles at me. "Thank you, Molly. That proves what I have been trying to tell Ron all along - that I fully intend to contribute financially to our household, whatever that may be. Please...please tell him that he does not have to take care of me, that I am fully capable of contributing and being a part of the financial income of our relationship."

Hermione looks over at Ron and gives him a 'Told you so' look.

Ron takes a huge breath and lets out a great sigh, but says nothing, obviously deflated in more ways than one.

I raise my eyebrows. “How did what I said prove that?” I say.

"Well," she says, trying to think, "you said were waiting to get the money together. If you meant only the man, wouldn't it have been was waiting to get the money together?"

“It wasn’t just one couple, Hermione,” I say. “It was several, and yes. They were the husbands. They wanted to know that they could support their wives before they married.”

"Well," Ron says, frowning. "I do. I want to. I'm supposed to - in case…well, in case there's a family soon. When I know that I can give Hermione everything I want to give her, and maybe..." he pauses, obviously having trouble saying what he means to, "maybe a family someday or something - that's what they deserve, all of them. I told Hermione I don't care if she works or whatever. She has too brilliant a mind not to, but I don't want it so she has to work just to keep our family going. It's not fair for a wizard to ask anyone to marry them when they don't know if they can support them on their own. And it's why I didn't ask Hermione...yet. It doesn't mean I don't feel everything I would if I was ready to ask her."

I nod. “That’s a very mature perspective, Ron,” I say. “It isn’t fair to force or forbid anything in a relationship.” I feel better about it now…but I still would rather they were engaged.

Hermione goes to open her mouth, but then seems to change her mind about what she's going to say. "I do promise you one thing. When we get married, I promise you a wedding, partly because my own mum would have my head if we eloped. So instead of a new daughter in law, you would have a dead daughter in law," she says with a laugh.

I frown. I don’t know that I much care for that sort of humour, but then I suppose You-Know-Who’s reign of terror has made me a bit touchy about death. Not to mention…it is my one great fear.

Hermione looks over at me and sees the look on my face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive. I know that it was hard for you not to have a wedding for Ginny. I know that the reception will be lovely on Saturday and that it will be just as special."

I consider telling her that that isn’t the problem, but decide against it. I have never told anybody about my fear…save for Arthur. I nearly died of fear myself when he was so close to death those two times.

I'd noticed that Ron listened closely to the exchange between us. "Er...whatever happens with that...the whole big wedding thing and all, which I reckon is on the agenda someday... But if we're going to start into another huge subject, I'd really like to get some pants on or something." He looks back and forth between us, but since no one responds immediately, he goes on. "Anyway, so Mum, aside from what you just walked in on, which I'm actually going to go right headlong back into, believe it or not - have you noticed anything else about Hermione and I since we've been here?"

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean by that?”

"What I mean is - yeah, so you discovered something different we have been doing, but have you noticed anything else we haven't been doing?"

I frown. Haven’t been doing? I shake my head.

Hermione smiles at me. "We don't fight anymore."

"Well, hardly ever anyway," Ron qualifies. "We didn't have any idea that would be kinda one of the side benefits of - well, us doing this. But somehow, it is." They smile at one another for a moment, then turn back to me again.

“So the reason you two don’t fight anymore is because…you…” I cough delicately. “Carry on like this? Is that it?”

"I -" he looks at Hermione, who nods at him a little, "we - dunno exactly, but it sorta is what it is."

"Well, fighting wasn't fun for either of us and being in love is so much better. I'm sure you have noticed that I have gained back much of the weight that I lost while we were fighting. My clothes fairly hung on and now they fit nicely."

"Yeah, they do," Ron says eagerly, then seems to realize just how randy he sounded and change tacks. "Uh, I mean, did you notice, Mum?"

I clear my throat. I’m not quite sure what to make of that. Sex substituting fighting? While fighting is not pleasant, it is important in a good relationship. As silly as it sounds, disagreements reassure that one communicates their honest feelings and making up renews one’s love. But they wouldn’t understand that. They’re too young.

“Yes, I did notice,” I say. “And I am glad you finally started taking care of yourself, Hermione. You were worrying me.”

"Thank you," she says with a smile. "To be honest, I was worried too. It affected my magic, my concentration, and well, combine that with my dad dying - it made for some rather uncertain times," she says, then stops, glancing at Ron. "We probably should let you get some rest. You had a long day and well, we didn't make things any easier on you."

“Yes,” I say, being reminded by just how tired I am by a yawn stretching at the back of my throat. “In fact, I was just on my way up when…well, goodnight. And for Merlin’s sake…find a better silencing charm.”

They give one another a furtive glance and seem to be trying to stifle both sighs of relief and giggles at my final comment.

With a resigned sigh and a shake of my head, I leave the room. I’m not sure I like the idea of my little boy doing these kinds of things, but I know there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It’s already done.

I close Ron’s door behind me and start back toward the stairs. Really, it has been an exhausting day and I would like nothing better than to join Arthur in bed and forget it all.

Happy Birthday Ron!

Thu, 01 Mar 2007 19:54:28 GMT

I’ve been cooking all day: fish and chips, spring rolls, pasties, those potatoes my Ron loves. Every spare inch of counter has been occupied by food and savoury scents have filled the air. It looks enough to feed my family for a week, but I know we’re expecting quite a bit more than just the nine Weasleys. I hope I’ve made enough.

The cake I baked special yesterday and spent late into the night decorating. I think he’ll like it. I do hope so. I haven’t had the excuse to bake him a proper cake since he turned eleven and that was so long ago. It was seven months exactly, in fact, before he met Hermione and Harry for the first time.

Has it been so long?

He has grown into quite a remarkable person, even if he does have his childish moments from time to time. My little boy has saved the wizarding world, fallen in love, and moved out on his own to make his way in the world.

I hear the door open and turn to see Hermione coming into the house. Thank Merlin she has finally realized that she is family now and doesn't need to knock. Her face is flushed with the cold and with excitement. "Good afternoon," she says, removing her cloak and coming over to give me a hug. "I came over as soon as I could. Ron, of course, was chatting forever. I am quite certain that he was trying to remind me not so subtly that it was his birthday and that he wanted to do something special."

I click my tongue and lead her into the kitchen. “He’s still such a boy,” I say. “As if we could forget his birthday. Do you know, when he was little, every day after Christmas he would come into Arthur’s and my bedroom and tell us exactly how many days it was until his birthday?”

She laughs and nods. "I can believe it." She takes out the meat for the tacos and the seasoning. I hand her a pan and watch with interest as she puts the meat into the pan with some water and turns on the burner.

"What do you do with these again?" I ask her, watching to make certain that she doesn't burn the meat.

"Well, we will put the meat on the table along with the shells, cheese, lettuce, tomato and sour cream and people make them to their liking." She adds seasoning to the meat. "The seasoning gives it a bit of spice. That's why we offer people sour cream - it helps to allay the spiciness."

I nod. “And these are…tacos, you called them?”

“Yes.”

I watch with interest as she prepares the taco ingredients. For somebody who claims not to be able to cook, she does a good job of it.

Soon, we’ve all the food prepared and ready to be taken to the cottage. “Has Harry taken care of Ron?”

"Yes, they're going flying," she says with a smile, "with a possible stop at the Three Broomsticks. I have given him strict instructions not to let him get drunk though. Of course, with the way we all felt after their little fight -"

"The way you all felt?" I ask, raising my eyebrows at her.

She blushes and realizes she said too much. "Yes, well, even I have been known to make mistakes and I was so happy that they weren't fighting any longer that I joined them in a toast. Big mistake. Trust me, I will never do that again."

“I should hope not,” I say, pursing my lips. I know Ron, Harry, and Hermione are adults, but I do not like the idea of them drinking and getting drunk.

“Well, that’s fine then,” I continue, stacking the containers of food. “We can start setting up. Oh…be careful with that, dear. It’s a bit delicate. You had better let me.”

"Is this the cake?" she asks me, visibly relieved that I didn't give her a lecture.

Nodding, I open the top so that she can see it.

"That's perfect! Ron is going to flip when he sees this! He'll want to play with it," she adds with a laugh.

“That’s perfectly alright,” I chuckle. “I’ve made the pieces of marzipan, so he won’t be getting real pieces sticky.”

She nods at my ingenuity and we head out to the Apparition point, laden down with parcels. When we arrive, I find the place empty and a little untidy. I sigh and set the containers down, then start to straighten up spare socks and scarves and pieces of parchment. “Hermione, would be a dear and fetch some tables? And I think right over there would be a good place for them.”

Hermione levitates the kitchen table over to where I indicate, and brings a smaller table in for the gifts. "Sorry it was such a mess. Ron and Harry have gotten better about cleaning up after themselves, but you know how it is. After all, you raised six boys." She puts the drinks in the ice box and we cast warming and freshness charms on them to keep the food from spoiling. "We can have guests put their cloaks in the study when they come in," she says, looking around the cottage, "and of course we'll have to let them know that the loo is upstairs. I better go make certain that is straightened up."

She heads upstairs and I continue with seeing what else needs to be done.

After raising seven children, two of them being those little troublemakers of mine, I’ve become fairly good at searching out messiness. Seven more sox, two text books, and eighteen knuts later, the sitting room looks presentable (of course, it could be cleaner, but it’s just fine as it is now). I stand back and nod with satisfaction.

Teatime with Hermione

Sat, 24 Feb 2007 02:14:08 GMT

With Ron's birthday just around the corner and Ginny's reception in less than a month, I've had my hands full. It keeps me busy and helps to take my mind off the recent passing of Hermione's father.

Poor dear has been through the mill. I do hope her mother and she are mending things. I knew Hermione's parents really did care for her and her mother hated having the distance between them. I only wished that I could have told Hermione about the packages before her father's passing.

I look at the small clock on the mantle and head for the kitchen to put on some tea. Hermione should be here soon. She owled yesterday to tell me she would be by to talk to me about something.

I hear a knock at the door and call out to her, "Hermione, come on in! You don't need to knock!"

"Hi Mum Weasley," she says, coming in and hanging up her cloak, then coming over to give me a hug. "It's really chilly out there today. I'll be glad when spring gets here"

"Hello dear," I say, hugging her back. "I think we will all be glad for the spring. How are things with your mother?"

She smiles at me. "They are wonderful. We talked everything out and things are much better between us. It's so good to have her back in my life again, and I think one of these days she wants to have you over for tea."

She notices that I am making tea and starts getting the cups and saucers out. "I have to say, though, it's good to be back home."

And your mother is happy to have you home, I think. Poor Hannah had been so upset about their seperation and I knew she hated how they had left things between them. "Thank you, dear," I say, placing the teaware on a tray. "I thought we might chat by the fire, if you don't mind. I've a bit of work to do for March."

"That sounds like a fine idea. I brought my knitting because I didn't want Ron to know the real reason for me coming over here. It's hard enough to keep a secret in the cottage as it is." She follows me into the sitting room and we take our usual chairs by the fire. "Of course, after our tea is done I might just knit anyway. I got so behind while at my mum's that I need to catch up with the socks for Gladrags."

"You're back at the cottage, then?" I say, a little surprised but also a little relieved. I know how Ron gets when he pines away and I have to say that I feel sorry for poor Harry alone in the house with him like that.

"But no matter," I say, dropping in a few spoons of loose tea and pouring the near-boiling water over them into the pot. I take up the tray and head for the fireplace. "I'm curious as to what this 'real reason' is. What have you got up your sleeves, Hermione Granger?"

In search of Hermione

Sun, 18 Feb 2007 05:53:22 GMT

I Apparate into Hogsmeade and wrap my shawl around me as the cold February air bites at my face. I had tried the self own, but a helpful little voice on the contraption told me that they were out of range and were unavailable to take my call. I hadn’t wished to tell Hermione the distressing news of her father over the little folding thing as it was, so I suppose it is better this way. I just wished to get the message to Hermione as quickly as I could. Evelyn didn’t sound very hopeful when we had spoken.

I run along the streets, frustrated that the cold weather is turning my breaths into tiny clouds I have to try to see through. It makes the going slower. Finally I see the cottage and look for lights in the windows upstairs. There is only one light on, in the sitting room. I frown, despite myself. It doesn’t look as if they have been keeping to their schedule.

When I reach the door, I pound on it, wait hardly three seconds, and pound again. Merlin, I hope they aren’t asleep. At this time in the evening? Rediculous. I pound again. “Hello?” I shout. “Is anybody home?”

Finally I hear the thunder of feet on the stairs. A few seconds later the door swing open to reveal Harry wrapped in a towel, his hair wet, and clutching his wand. His eye's widen and I'm sure he squeaks before clearing his throat, "Umm... come in, come in." He gestures for me to enter. I step through and he shuts the door behind me.

“Hello Harry, dear,” I say absently. Really I should take the time to apologize to him for my behaviour in January, but there is no time. “Where is Hermione? Is she in her room? I didn’t see her light on.”

He looks nervously down. "Ummm... no I just got home a bit ago and found a note from Hermione. She and Ron went out tonight. She said something about supper at the Three Broomsticks, so it is just me tonight."

My eyes widen and I look at him. His face reddens, but I ignore it. “Together?!” I sputter. “But…together? Went out?”

He starts to run his fingers through his hair, but bumps his head with his wand and stops. "Umm... yeah... they sort of made up Wednesday."

I stand there, stunned for a few moments before remembering myself. “I’m so sorry, Harry dear, but I’ve got to run and catch them. Three Broomsticks, you said? You’re sure?”

He finally seems to snap to it. "Yeah, that's what they said. If you want give me a couple of minutes to get dressed and I'll go with you."

“I…oh dear,” I say, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I would be grateful for the company, especially should I find a bloodbath awaiting me, but I haven’t the time. “Perhaps you can catch up with me. I’m so sorry. I really do need to hurry.”

"Erm... okay... yeah, I'll just get dressed and follow."

I give him a quick one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek and then hurry out the door again. The run back into town feels much longer than the run to the cottage and soon I’m out of breath, but I keep up my pace. I can hear hurrying feet behind me and know that Harry has caught up with me. Oh Merlin, I’m getting old.

“Harry…*huff*huff*…I never did get the…*huff*…chance to apologize. *huff* For January.”

He reaches an arm out to steady me, "It's okay Mrs. Weasley, it is completely understandable under the circumstances."

“Oh Harry,” I say, frowning at myself. “Call me ‘Mum.’ You are…*huff*…my son now.”

He gets a strange look on is face, "Okay... mum." I can tell it will take him a while to get used to it and I feel a bit guilty for it.

Finally we reached the entrance to the Three Broomsticks. I grab for the door and throw it open for us to run through. Our entrance has caused the majority of the patrons turn in their seats to stare. Ron and Hermione are seated at a small, private table in the corner, and I can see that they’ve turned to stare, too.

“Hermione, thank Merlin,” I say, hurrying over to her table. I lean against the wall to catch my breath.

She turns to me, her fork in midair. "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

Ron doesn't say anything waiting for her answer, but he stands from his seat at once, looking worried.

I move her hand to set down her fork, then kneel beside her and rest my hand on her shoulder. “Hermione, I’ve had a call from your Nana. I’m afraid your father was taken to the hospital.”

Busy, but not

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 16:04:00 GMT

The house has been so quiet since the children left. Of course I should be used to a quiet house, all those months Ron, Harry, and Hermione were away on that hunt of theirs, but the past two months with the house bustling the way it once was has spoiled me, I suppose.

Now it's quiet again and while I don't have to worry whether they'll be killed out there in the world, I worry if they'll have enough to eat, if I've taught them enough how to manage money, if they're warm at night. I really should let go and not worry about them anymore. They're all adults.

Charlie still lets me fuss and I am thankful, but I know it won't last forever. He'll find himself a lovely witch and move out, start his own family. Then it will be just me and Arthur again.

I don't mind having the house to just Arthur and myself, but the house in the day when he is at work (which only seem to increase) are long and lonely. Even if I keep myself busy cleaning and cooking and mending and making sure there's as little for Arthur to worry about as possible, I need to find a hobby. Perhaps there is a quilting circle in town I can join. Maybe I can find a job like Hermione's, knitting socks. Maybe I can make some lady friends and have tea once a week.

It's time to start looking for life beyond my family. I need to start thinking more about myself.

Tea with Hermione

Mon, 22 Jan 2007 22:01:43 GMT

I take a tray of scones from the oven and set them on the draining board to cool while I replace it with a tray of uncooked biscuits. I haven't been baking much lately, I've been so worried about Arthur. Now that I know what's been troubling him...well, perhaps not everything that's been troubling him, but...

Arthur and I need to talk again.

I set a kettle on a flame and start heating water for tea. I owled Hermione last night after Arthur went to sleep. It's time I start making ammends and I do miss having the children around. She owled not long after, saying she wished to come by tomorrow for tea and perhaps a little knitting.

The biscuits have just finished when I hear a knock on the door. Setting them next to the scones, I pat my hands on my apron and rush for the door. "Hermione!" I say, pulling her into my arms. "You don't need to knock, you know, dear. Just come right in. Oooooooh, how have you been?"

She offers me a small smile. "I'm doing okay. Keeping busy with studying and my training. How are you doing? I've been wanting to come before now but - well, I thought maybe you and Arthur might be enjoying the time to yourselves."

As I take her hat and cloak and hang them for her, I frown, trying to keep the worry in my face from showing. "No, he's been working so much and when he hasn't been working, he's been in his shed or sleeping."

I straighten up and put a smile back on. "But come in, dear. It's chilly outside and I've just taken some treats out of the oven for our tea."

Her stomach growls and I notice that she looks rather thin. "They smell wonderful," she says as she follows me into the kitchen. I have missed our knitting together and our talks." She sits down at the table and smiles at me. Things are quiet for a minute or two as we both try to think of things to say. "By the way, I want to thank you for the food you sent home with us. As you know, I'm not very good at cooking and its been very easy to heat things up."

I frown again. "You don't look as though you've been eating much of it," I note. "You're as thin as a house elf, dear."

She looks down at herself and sighs. "I've been busy studying, plus my stomach's been upset lately. I drink lots of fluids though, to keep myself hydrated." Changing the subject, she looks at me as I set down a cup of green tea in front of her. "How is your shawl doing? Do you enjoy wearing it?"

"I do, thank you. It's well-made and warm. But Hermione," I say, not letting her change direction so easily. "You can't study very well on an empty stomach. Your brain needs food and if you don't give it food, something is going to go wrong! You need to take better care of yourself."

A relaxing dinner with my son

Sun, 14 Jan 2007 03:59:54 GMT

Arthur has not been looking well, especially late. Work has been harder on him than he will let on, so I thought Charlie's invitation to take us all out would be a good escape for him. I am not surprised, though, that he has opted to stay in his tool shed. I don't like that he's staying home, but I know he needs the time to himself.

It has been such a week for us all, begining but certainly not ending with Ginny's and Harry's...marriage. And then the whole house emptying so suddenly. It's taken all I can muster to keep my attitude light for when Arthur comes home from the Ministry. The last thing he needs right now is to know that I'm upset about something he's accepted so understandingly. I tried several times to respond to Hermione's thoughtful owl, but it never came out right and I was about at my wit's end when Charlie sent an owl with Poe (that is what he calls that bird, isn't it?) It was just the thing I needed and I find I'm looking forward to leaving the house to spend some time with Charlie. He may not tell me everything, but at least he would tell me if he ever had the notion to get married. No sour grapes tonight, Molly. You'll have a good time.

And I know I will.

I spend the afternoon cooking up a cassarole for Arthur and then put it under a preservation spell, leaving the spellwork instructions on the lid for him. Then I go upstairs to get ready. I know that Charlie doesn't expect me to dress up fancy, but I do want to look nice, so I take down my robes for special occassions (not my evening wear, that's only for evenings alone with Arthur) and make sure all the wrinkles are spelled away.

Trying to meet expectations

Sat, 13 Jan 2007 03:03:57 GMT

It has not been an easy week for me. First with the news of Harry and Ginny eloping. Then with Harry, Ron, and Hermione moving so far away. I suppose it's better that when they went on the ho crust hunt, or whatever it was called. I'm not worrying about them being killed by dark wizards or the like. I know where they're living and who their living with.

But somehow I'm still so upset.

I've been trying to act as if nothing is wrong whenever Arthur is around. He made clear in his letter to the family that I'm to set a possitive example to the children, no matter how I really feel. The children don't bring it up to me and I'd honestly just as soon they didn't. I know it would disappoint Arthur to know that I'm feeling this way, but I can't help it. I feel as if my children are leaving me behind with not so much as a word of warning. Why won't they tell me about these things? Why can't I be a part of their lives anymore? Are they too old for me now?

I sit down at the table, alone in the house with Charlie and Arthur both at work and the rest off living their lives, and reread the letter from Hermione. I did enjoy having her living with us the short two months she was here. I had never really had somebody to knit with before. I had tried to knit with Ginny, but she got bored and ran out to fly on her broom.

I get out a piece of parchment and a quill and set the tip to the paper. Every time before that I've tried to write her back, I always sound so mopy and sour. It's no wonder we're almost out of parchment, I think as I start to write a new letter.

Dear Hermione,

It was so lovely to receive your letter. It put a smile on my face to see that you are settling in. I enjoyed having you stay with us in our house, but I do understand that you need to live your own life.

I'm glad to hear you and Harry have made ammends. I only wish I could do the same.

I grab hold of the parchment and crumple it up, not even allowing the ink to dry properly. Every time. Every time I end up saying something like that. That's no way to set an example.

I set her letter on the desk and toss my crumpled parchment into the fireplace. "If I keep sitting here, moping, I'm never going to accomplish anything," I say sternly to myself. "Best do some cleaning and then start some dinner for Arthur. He'll be home late again, I expect."

New Year news

Tue, 02 Jan 2007 05:28:55 GMT

A holiday for others never means a day off for a mother. There's always work to be done: meals to make, laundry to wash, floors to sweep, dishes to do.

Not that I mind it in the least today. Doing chores guarantees I'll be alone and I can savour the memories we made at the turning of the new year. Arthur's and my tender moments at the stroke of mightnight have left me heady and rosy-cheeked. He always knows how to make me feel like a special girl.

The sun long since set, I take Arthur's and my basket of dirties to the laundry room and check pockets as I lay our clothing out, humming softly as I do so. I hold my festive robes up from last night and feel my cheeks warm as I think of all the times he's slipped them off my shoulders and kissed my skin underneath. And my special rosy satin knickers he loves to run his hands over.

Then I pick up his robes he wore last night and run my finger over a button halfway down. I noticed last night how loose it was as I'd slipped it out of it's hole. I hold the fabric up to my face and smile. It smells like Arthur's smell mixed with the champagne we drank last night.

Hearing a cupboard open outside the room, I come to my senses and place his clothing in the basin with my robes from last night. Then I take up the robes Arthur had been wearing earlier today and check the pockets. Inside is a note.

I never snoop, that should be made clear. I only make sure what I'm about to throw away isn't something somebody might be in need of. And so, knowing no better way to find out, I read it.

*

I set the paper down after reading it the third time and sigh. How could he think he would need to be any better than he is at being my Arthur? Do I make him feel that way? Do I make him think he's not the wonderful husband he is?

And his job...I've seen how tired he is, but after so many weeks ago, I haven't brought it up again. I wished things might change with how he felt, that he could find a way to be happy with his job rather than just doing it because he feels he needs to for us.

"Oh Arthur," I whisper, the heady feeling of pleasure from earlier replaced now by sadness. "Why don't you talk to me."

Here we come A Wassailing(The Twelve Weasleys of Christmas)

Mon, 25 Dec 2006 14:23:59 GMT

“Get a move on, you lot!” I yell from the entrance. “The wassail’s getting cold!”

“Reckon we’ll just sit a while longer. We like it cold,” Fred and George say at the same time.

I scowl at them and am about to scold them when Bill gently kicks the back of their chairs. “I’d suggest getting to it, unless you want an earful.”

“Yeah, reckon I’ve sat here long enough,” Fred says to George.

George nods. “S’pose so. Shall we?”

“After you.”

“Thank you, Bill,” I say, handing him a large pitcher of wassail and his wassailing bowl.

Evelyn, who is in the process of wrapping Hermione in a scarf and checking to see that her hat is pulled down enough, looks down at all the bowls on the table beside the door. “My, what elaborate wooden cups.”

“They’re wassailing bowls,” I explain, handing Ginny and Ron theirs. “The children’s Grandpa Prewet carved one for each of them for their first Christmases.”

“How lovely! But I thought wassail bowls were supposed to be much larger.”

“Well yes, but my father thought it made more sense for them to have something they can take caroling. He did love taking the family caroling on Christmas when I was a little girl.” I hand her a plain wood cup. “I’m sorry it’s not as fancy as ours, but we’ve some cups for company. Hermione, here’s yours.”

When everybody’s bundled and has their wassail bowls, Arthur ladles us all up a bit of wassail from the family bowl and we step outside into the cold winter air. As the youngest, Ginny carries the lantern while the oldest, Bill, carries the wassail.

We step out into the cold air and immediately start the night by singing “Here we come a-wassailing” as we walk down into Ottery St. Catchpole. I’m a little worried as we sing that the twins are going to pull out their ridiculous songs again this year.

An hour later, we’ve tramped through a fourth of the town, sharing carols and wassail with our neighbors, and I begin to think that maybe this year they may give us all a break. I start to relax and put my arm around Arthur as we walk toward the Diggorys’ house. The last few years, I feel sad every time they open their door and I only see Amos and Beatrice. The loss of their son Cedric was such a blow to them. At least with losing Percy, there’s a chance he could see his error and return to us.

Beatrice smiles at us when they open the door wide. Amos steps up beside her and hands her an empty cup, then wraps his now free arm protectively around her. Bill steps forward and fills their cups while Charlie hums the first note of our next carol, Oh Holy Night.

By the third word, I know I’ve lost control as the twins start singing their bastardized carol. Ginny joins in immediately, shortly followed by Ron and Charlie. Harry looks a little lost until George hands him a piece of parchment and points out their placing. Then he and Bill join in. I can hear Arthur singing under his breath, no doubt thinking I don’t hear him.

-Oh Holy Cow
Forgot the Christmas presents
They’re back at home in a bag by the door
-Oh Holy Cow
The dog’s still in the kitchen
He probly left us a gift on the floor

Excuse my brain, it’s slushed on Christmas cider
Oh, one more glass? I couldn’t turn you down!

Fall on my face
And feel the room a’spinnin’
Oh egg nog divine
80 proof, I feel sublime
Egg nog divine
Oh my egg nog divine

-Oh Holy Cow
We’re running out of cider
Please hold my nog as I run into town
-Oh Holy Cow
Forgot to use the bathroom
Can I use yours? I will put the lid down

What makes you say the cake’s got too much brandy?
Pour me a glass. It seems to dry to me

Fall on my face
And feel the room a’spinnin’
Oh egg nog divine
80 proof, I feel sublime
Egg nog divine
Oh my egg nog divine

-Oh Holy Cow
Must be hallucinating
I think the door’s singing carols to me
-Oh Holy Cow
I think my bladder’s bursting
Please stop the movie. I have to go pee

The candy canes are great for stirring cider
No, I don’t think I’ve had too much to drink

Fall on my face
And feel the room a’spinnin’
Oh egg nog divine
80 proof, I feel sublime
Egg nog divine
Oh my egg nog divine

By the end, Hermione, Fleur, and I are all glaring at the rest. Amos seems to be enjoying himself, so Fred and George start immediately into the next carol, which they point out to Harry on the parchment, explaining that it is sung to the tune of Jingle Bells.

I huff as I realize which of their obnoxious songs is next, and of course I’m right.

Reindeer sludge, reindeer sludge, clogging up the pipe
I must say the smell of it is something rather ripe
OH! Reindeer sludge, reindeer sludge, made dear grandpa gripe
Mistook it for tobakki and he stuffed it in his pipe!

A night or two ago, I thought I’d take a ride
But soon some reindeer sludge had fallen by my side
The horse was getting nervous so we picked up the pace
But some of that reindeer sludge had fallen in my face

Reindeer sludge, reindeer sludge, clogging up the pipe
I must say the smell of it is something rather ripe
OH! Reindeer sludge, reindeer sludge, made dear grandpa gripe
Mistook it for tobakki and he stuffed it in his pipe!

The sludge was falling faster so I crawled beneath the bench
But nothing I could do would ever terminate that stench
Safe from all the falling sludge, a tear fell to my boot
Because that wretched reindeer sludge had ruined my best suit

Reindeer sludge, reindeer sludge, clogging up the pipe
I must say the smell of it is something rather ripe
OH! Reindeer sludge, reindeer sludge, made dear grandpa gripe
Mistook it for tobakki and he stuffed it in his pipe!

“Alright, you lot, that’s enough!” I shout before they can sing the last verse.

“Aww Mum, they don’t mind,” George protests.

“Well, I do!” I say. “And I’ll have no more of it.”

“Really Molly, it’s fine,” Amos chuckles.

“It most certainly is not fine!” I say, glaring at the twins. “You do this every year! All I ask is that you behave yourselves for one night. Is that too much to ask?”

“Apparently,” Fred snorts. “Mum, we do this every year because it’s tradition!”

“Yeah,” George chimes in. “You wouldn’t want to break with tradition, now would you?”

“It’s not my tradition,” I say. “And I have no qualms about breaking it.”

Christmas morning with Molly and Arthur

Mon, 25 Dec 2006 12:11:26 GMT

I was up late in the night, making sure all the jumpers were wrapped and that I had a bag of homemade Belinda Boffo's Toffees tied to each.

Of course Bill gets his red, Charlie his brown, I've made a green for Percy though I get the feeling I'll be seeing it again by Christmas evening, unwrapped on the kitchen table again. Fred and George get their blues, Ron has maroon, Ginny has yellow, and my Arthur has orange to match his lovely hair.

I've made one for Harry, blue. Hermione gets a blue with a quill on hers (I've made too much blue this year). Fleur's I've made purple, along with Charlie and Mattieu's onsies, booties, and mittens. The little darlings.

When I wake up, the sun is higher in the sky than I would normally greet, but it's holiday and don't wish to leave Arthur's side when I've only been in my bed for a few precious hours. The children can fetch their own breakfasts for one morning.

The jumper I wrapped last night for Arthur is sitting at the foot of his side, along with the plugs display I found. I may find it silly, his plug collecting, but apparently it's not as uncommon as I thought. There were so many varieties at the shop I visited and I was hard pressed to choose. I still don't understand it. I'll never understand it. Oh well, it makes my Arthur happy and I can indulge him once a year, can't I?

I know we usually wait for each other to wake, but I'm curious to see what my husband has given me. I feel like such a young girl sometimes, especially on Christmas morning, that sometimes my curiosity or mischievousness get the better of me. There are two boxes in my pile from him, I see, and I reach for the flatter one. Upon opening it, I place my hand on my chest and gasp. "Oh Arthur, it's beautiful," I sigh, even though he's still asleep by my side.

I smile at my sleeping husband and quietly kiss him.

Ginny gets her due

Wed, 20 Dec 2006 18:33:36 GMT

Ginny's been home for a whole day and I've let her have her fun, but I haven't forgotten what I had to go through not a month ago. It's time I give her a piece of my mind.

I take my breakfast plates to the sink and smile at my daughter. "Ginny, sweetheart, would you help me with something in the sitting room?"

She sighs, probably knowing what's coming, and nods. "Sure, Mum."

I lead her into the sitting room and close the door behind us. "What ever possessed you, Ginny?" I start. "Do you know the trouble I went through because of that little prank of yours? Charlie tried to convince me that you were just getting back at P-Percy, but I couldn't believe you could be that stupid."

"I can be that stupid," Ginny answers smartly and then shrugs. "It was Percy, Mum! I couldn't let him have an easy time of it."

"I don't care what your brother was doing, that's no excuse. Didn't it even occur to you it might get back to your family? You're lucky your father didn't hear! You're damn lucky Harry didn't hear. They mightn't have waited for an explanation. For Merlin's sake, Ginny! Whatever possessed you?!"

"This is his fault, Mum, not mine!" She yells back. "I told him that I'd had sex in his office at the Ministry! I mean, how thick can someone get?" She grabs a pillow and throws it back onto the couch, hard. "It isn't like he doesn't know me, even though he pretends it. He should know that I would do this to him!"

"It is most certainly not his fault, Ginevra Molly Weasley, and don't you try to make me think it is! He didn't put those words in your mouth. And don't you throw the pillows!" I take the pillow from the couch and banish it to the other side of the room (a little forcefully, but the girl has worked me up!)

Turning to me, she crosses her arm and glares at me. "I wasn't thinking, then. I just said it to get out of that stupid class."

"It's obvious you weren't thinking!" I fume. "And don't you glare at me, young lady! Do you understand the trouble you're in?"

"Yes, and I fully intend to take it because I would do it again..." she pauses for a moment and sighs, "except for scaring you. I didn't want to do that."

I can feel my resolve start to weaken when she adds that last bit, but her first comment nettles me more. "Well, you should have thought of that before you played your little prank. Honestly Ginny, is this how I'm to expect you'll act when you leave here?"

Her face is blank, a sure sign that she's hiding something. "I dunno, Mum. I just do what comes into my head. I think the twins were a bad influence on me."

"And the first thought to come to your head was to tell Percy you're pregnant?!"

Waiting for my little girl

Tue, 19 Dec 2006 05:10:12 GMT

I know Harry's a very reliable young man. He did help save the entire wizarding world, after all.

But a mother worries. It's her right when her little girl is out on a date.

Well, yes of course there is the worry. More than that, though, I'm a little sad. Ginny is my only daughter, and I always wanted to help her get ready for her first date, take her shopping when the money's good, teach her how to do up her hair. Ginny's just never seemed interested in those things; she liked playing with the boys outdoors more.

I would have liked to help her get ready for her date with Harry.

At least I can bake up some treats for when they arrive home.

A special birthday tea

Wed, 13 Dec 2006 19:59:59 GMT

My Charlie has never been a fussy eater, even when he was a child. He always eats what I put on the table with no complaint. In fact, sometimes I think one of the reasons he came back home was so I'd put that food on the table for him.

With his birthday having been yesterday, I want to make him a special Birthday Tea, but I'm not really sure what to make. I used to ask what he wanted, but he'd always say, "Whatever you want to make is fine." I learned early on not to ask.

I look at my clock and see that there is just enough time to make a shepherd's pie and put it in the oven when his cake is done baking. It's nothing fancy, just home cooking the way Charlie likes it. Of course the trick will be keeping Ron away from it until Charlie's had his chance with it.

When the pie is all prepared, I open the oven and see that the apple crumb cake is just right. As I take the cake out for it to cool, the smell fills up the room. Upstairs, I hear movement in Ron's room, then a creaking down the hallway. "Ron, is that you? If you're coming down, would you shovel the walk today?"

The creaking stops.

Finally, the shepherd's pie is in the oven. It should be done just in time for tea.

You get what you deal

Thu, 07 Dec 2006 16:58:57 GMT

Yesterday was a busy day. I suddenly found my cupboards bare and had to go into town again. I wonder which of my men pinched all that food...

With Arthur's new job, we have more available to us, but I'm so used to scrimping, saving, pinching pennies, and looking for deals, it still takes me a good deal of time to shop. I suppose when a witch lives for so long one way, it's hard to break that habit. Because of this, I returned home when the sky was dark and found Charlie's note that he'd returned to the reserve for the week. I didn't have time to feel disappointed about that. I never have time for those sorts of things around this time of year, with all the baking and the cleaning, the knitting, and any sort of extra chore that might pop up.

This is why I didn't find Ginny's note on my desk until this morning.

As my Charlie suggested, I floo'd Madam Pomfrey on Sunday morning, but she wasn't forthcoming with any information, saying some nonsense about doctor-patient confidentiality and how Ginny was legally an adult and I didn't have a right to that information or whatnot. Of course in my mind, that's as good as saying, "Yes, your daughter came to see me and yes, your daughter is pregnant."

I had already finished Ginny's jumper, but as I'd looked at it after my infuriatingly uninformative floo conversation, I realized it would soon be too small for her. And so dropping everything, I sat right down and unravelled the entire jumper and started over again. If I'm to get her jumper done before Christmas, I've no time to lose. The decorations can wait.

Now, as I stare down at Ginny's rather cheeky confession, I can't say I'm in the least pleased with her. Not to say I would have been pleased if she'd said, "Yes Mum, I'm pregnant. Percy was right," but to make me go through what I did, she's going to have a sore time when she comes home for Christmas holiday. I knew having her spend so much time playing with the twins was a bad idea.

I fold her letter into a tiny square and stuff it in my pocket, then make my way to the knitting basket where Ginny's jumper sits half finished. I reach down to unravel it yet again, then stop and set it back down in the basket. It would serve her right to get a jumper three sizes too big, after what she's pulled, I think. And besides that, I really don't have the time to start over a second time. I've three more people to knit for this year, more mouths to feed, more messes to clean, and I still haven't hung that damned holly! Ginny's lucky I'm making a jumper for her at all!

After I've made breakfast for whoever happens to be home, I make myself a pot of green tea, choose a few scones, and take my knitting basket to the rocking chair by the fireplace.

Happy Christmas, Mum

Sun, 03 Dec 2006 00:16:02 GMT

Arthur's days are becoming longer and more trying for him. After our talk a few weeks past, though, I haven't brought it up again. I know he doesn't want to see me worry, and so I hold my tongue and make his evenings as pleasant as I can. He knows how I feel and if anything comes up, he'll come talk to me.

He looks especially drawn tonight, and so I make up a pot of buttered rum to help him relax, while sparking our holiday spirit and warming us all up from the snow outside. After supper, I send the children up to fetch the Christmas trimming while I clean up the dishes, trying my best to hurry so I can have a moment or two with Arthur before he goes to bed.

Ron and Harry both only manage two boxes before they climb up to their rooms, complaining about headaches. Hermione has carried nearly all the rest down, possitively covered in dust and red-faced from the effort. After washing up, she helps me place some Christmas figurines around the living room before I send her to bed, too.

I have been expecting Charlie home for hours to help me hang the holly I bought earlier today, but I haven't seen him and it's already coming on eleven o'clock. My mood is not brightened when I open a box and discover that the ghoul has smashed one of my favourite ornaments, a gift from Arthur's parents on our first Christmas together. I'm glad none of my children are around to hear my wording as I dig through the wreckage to all the pieces, cutting my hands as I do.

I've just retrieved the last piece when I see a flash of green from the fireplace. Inside the flames is the spectacled face of my third son. "Percy!" I exclaim, rushing over to the hearth, the broken ornament cutting into my palms as I clasp my hands together.

"Hello Mother," he says, his voice stiff and distant.

"Oh Percy! How are you? Are you..."

"Don't misunderstand my contact, Mrs. Weasley," he says. His sooty hand moves up to shove his glasses higher on his nose.

My chest tightens at the way he adresses me. "Please Percy," I beg.

"I'm calling in regards to your daughter," he says. "I would not normally be making this call, but you should be away that she has informed me in class that she thinks she is pregnant."

"Pregnant!" I shout, dropping the broken pieces, making them shatter more.

"I sent her to see Madam Pomfrey. I take from your reaction you have not already been informed by either of them."

"But...but she's not even...of age!" I sputter.

"I would inform you to keep a better eye on your own children, Mrs. Weasley. I'm sorry to be calling you at such a late hour. Happy Christmas and good night."

I watch his face draw back in the flames and the fireplace return to its golden, cheery glow. I fall back in my rocker and look down at my torn and bleeding hands, the pain in my chest growing as I feel tears rising and then spilling out. "Ginny, how could you be so stupid," I sob into my hands. I can feel the blood from my cuts stick to my face and mix with my tears and the drops that fall on my apron are pink.

When the clock on the mantle chimes midnight, I wipe my face and walk toward the stairs. This news from my lost son about my sweet little girl has me suddenly worried. I had never thought Percy would turn on his family and I never thought Ginny would be fool enough to get herself pregnant. What don't I suspect from my other children?

A quick check tells me that Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Arthur are all sound asleep. However, when I open Charlie's door, I find his bed empty. I lay my hand on the pillow, thinking he might have just left to use the loo, but the pillow is cold.

Nearby, I find some parchment and a quill. I scribble a note and lay it on his pillow, then go back down to the kitchen to wait.

Knitting by the fire

Sun, 26 Nov 2006 23:32:20 GMT

Ginny never was interested in learning to knit. I was so disappointed, because I thought it would be something nice for us to do together when she was off school. But she always seemed more interested in playing with the boys out in the garden than sitting by the fire with a skein of yarn.

When Hermione mentioned a week ago that she enjoyed knitting, of course I was delighted! I do enjoy knitting by the fire, but it gets a bit lonely with nobody to chat with.

The wind outside makes the house creak and I can hear rain falling from the eaves. I've set a warm fire and put a kettle on the hearth to heat some water for tea. My knitting basket is sitting by my chair with several skeins, another basket beside that with some festive green, red, and white. A tray of scones is cooling on the stove.

Everything is all set for an afternoon's knitting together.

One Weary Weasley

Mon, 20 Nov 2006 03:57:22 GMT

It's the end of a long Sunday for both of us, relaxing but very long. We didn't take our walk through the Orchard, the weather's been a bit blustery lately, but sat in by the fire instead. Arthur has been a good deal more tired lately and I suspect it's his new possition in the Ministry. He tries not to let me know it, but I see how hard they work him.

Before bedtime, I bring up a pot of tea to our room and set it on the night stand. Arthur looks up from a stack of parchments he's been poring through and quickly shoves them into his briefcase. "Arthur, dear. It's Sunday," I say, stepping up behind his chair and giving his shoulders a rub. "You should be relaxing."

"I was just doing a bit of catching up," he says to me.

I lean around his side and look down at his face. "Dear, you're always doing a bit of catching up."

The feast

Fri, 17 Nov 2006 08:27:51 GMT

After the preparations are done...

As I finish dishing the food into serving bowls and find my good serving spoons, I keep the roast in the oven with the heat turned off to keep it warm. The corn cob holders are in their drawer with the wedding silver. I know it’s silly of me and it may have been just a whim for Arthur, but they are special to me. I really should use them more often, I think as I attach them to the ends of each cob.

Percy and the Grangers never showed up or gave word that they would be coming, and it’s already half-past so I take their plates off the table and shorten it a little. One of the walls had to be moved out to accommodate for the size of the table, and still at twelve, it takes up almost the entire room.

Hermione has done a beautiful job setting out the good plates, spacing the candles, and putting a little festive flair at the centre. I set the bottle of Cahors Fleur and Bill brought us on one side of the arrangement and a carafe of fresh pumpkin juice on the other side. I move the three plates at the head a little apart from the rest, then start placing name cards at each setting.

After another scrutinizing, I find that everything is in place. All that needs doing is to fill the seats and bring out the roast. I hang my apron next to the door, pat my hair, and walk into the sitting room. The warm sound of my family and friends all enjoying each other’s company, halts when I walk through the door. “Everybody, dinner is ready,” I say with a smile.