(no subject)
Title: A Family to Take Care Of
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: The Weasley family
Word Count: 1,105
Rating: G
Summary: It's early November 1981. Wizardkind have dealt with the news in a variety of ways. Arthur is finding it hard to cope with Molly's reaction.
Author's Notes: I blame chocolate_limes personally. Her and millieweasley who wrote young Molly and made me want to do something Weasley.
A Family to Take Care Of
“Sweetheart?”
Each day for this week it had been the same. He’d stayed at home Monday, probably most people had. There’d certainly been few at work in the Ministry that day.
Sunday had been a time for celebration for most of their kind. As soon as the word came through it had started. There’d been impromptu parties, feasts, displays of shooting stars and several reported cases of wizards moving in Muggle areas without changing into suitable clothing.
There were some who’d not celebrated. His followers, of course. That went without saying.
He, Molly, and the children hadn’t celebrated either. Molly wouldn’t have it. Instead she’d spent the day looking at her hands, crying, holding the children to her as tight as she could, and then crying some more.
The children had cried as well. All of them but Bill anyway. Bill thought he was too big a boy to cry now. Arthur hadn’t really known what to do; Molly was such a coper, his rock. The one he relied on daily.
He’d made cups of tea. Lots of them. His own mum had always said that things look better with a nice cup of tea in your hand. She’d not been right this time.
Tuesday he’d left work at lunchtime and come home. Molly had pretended that she was fine; she’d busied herself in the kitchen all morning. The meal they’d sat down to had been awful though. Molly’s meals were never awful, they were rarely even close to it. If that hadn’t worried him more than anything then her reaction to the children’s leftovers did.
They were a family of good eaters, the Weasleys. When others were complaining that their children didn’t like the move from milk to proper food, they’d never had that problem. It was like Molly knew what to do. It had always been like that.
From the moment Bill was born she’d just known how to mother him. He’d been the perfect baby. He’d fed as he should, slept as he should, and done everything just as he should. That was why they’d not wasted a moment in having Charlie.
Charlie hadn’t been much different. He’d been a bit more daring than Bill as he grew up. Someone had to keep an eye on him all the time once he was up on his feet. Once Percy had come along Bill had willingly taken the role from his mum and the two young boys had become the best of friends.
Arthur remembered feeling his heart swell with fatherly love one summer’s evening when Bill brought his younger brother in from the garden, holding his hand, and looking really solemn.
“I’m sorry dad,” he’d said, still holding Charlie’s hand.
“What’s wrong boys?” Arthur looked from one to the other.
“Look.” Charlie had pointed to his knee, a bit muddy and gritty. Right in the centre were a few drops of blood seeping through. “I felled over.”
“Sorry dad.” Bill said again. “I only looked away for a moment.”
Arthur could still remember know how crestfallen Bill had looked when he’d chuckled.
“Oh come here, you silly pair. You don’t have to be sorry.” He opened his arms wide and the two of them had gone running to him. “Now, tell me how this happened?”
As Arthur had cleaned and mended Charlie’s knee - not as well as Molly would have done had she not been taking a nap - Bill explained how they’d been chased around the garden by a gnome, and as he’d turned around to tell the gnome off Charlie had jumped over a big stone and caught his toe and fallen.
Ice-cream had put it all right. They were too small for cups of tea, but ice-cream always seemed to have the same effect.
That had been a few years ago. Now things were a bit different. Bill would be going to Hogwarts next September all things being equal and Charlie would be the big brother looking out for the little ones. Arthur could imagine him and Ron, barely able to walk steadily for far, out on their toy broomsticks in the meadow. They’d be a right pair those two. And then there were the twins.
Poor Percy, Arthur had to feel sorry for him. Already, at not much more than three and a half years old they were leading the poor boy a dog’s life. Molly was so proud of Percy and the way he approached his lessons. He was the quickest to pick up his letters and numbers, and already at not much more than five he could read enough to amuse his sister for a few minutes.
Their little girl, Ginevra. There were probably lots who thought they’d kept having babies to have a girl. It wasn’t the case though, they’d have been happy with all boys, or all girls. And just because they had a girl it didn’t mean they’d stop as was probably being said. They’d not said they’d have another, but they’d not said they wouldn’t. At least until last night. She’d actually said it last night.
“Are you okay love?” What a stupid thing to say? Of course she wasn’t okay. His wife was sitting in the kitchen her arms on the table and her head down sobbing. This was the fifth day, she couldn’t keep going for too long could she? When the boys, he still thought of them as that, had been lost it had been the same, but they were family. This time the victims were barely known to them. They weren’t family, but two people fighting the same cause as them.
“Arthur,” Molly had managed to croak out his name. “Arthur.”
“Ssssh love,” he smoothed her hair, holding her head against his stomach as she continued to cry. “Ssssh, it’ll be okay. You see.”
Molly leant into Arthur, and took comfort from his presence. As long as he was there then they’d all be okay, she knew that. It wasn’t them that was worrying her just now.
Right on cue a pair of small feet teetered their way into the kitchen and made a well known plaintive cry. “Hun’gree.”
Arthur smiled at the small red-headed boy, the youngest of his sons, who was always hun’gree these days. “I’ll get you something Ron,” he offered as Molly scooped him into her lap and started a fresh outburst of sobs.
One day she’d find a way to make it up to the other young lad, not much younger than her own perfect son. One day, she promised herself, she’d find a way to tell him how brave his parents had been.
Author: apostrophe_ess
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR, I merely gain from playing these games in her playground.
Pairing/Character: The Weasley family
Word Count: 1,105
Rating: G
Summary: It's early November 1981. Wizardkind have dealt with the news in a variety of ways. Arthur is finding it hard to cope with Molly's reaction.
Author's Notes: I blame chocolate_limes personally. Her and millieweasley who wrote young Molly and made me want to do something Weasley.
A Family to Take Care Of
“Sweetheart?”
Each day for this week it had been the same. He’d stayed at home Monday, probably most people had. There’d certainly been few at work in the Ministry that day.
Sunday had been a time for celebration for most of their kind. As soon as the word came through it had started. There’d been impromptu parties, feasts, displays of shooting stars and several reported cases of wizards moving in Muggle areas without changing into suitable clothing.
There were some who’d not celebrated. His followers, of course. That went without saying.
He, Molly, and the children hadn’t celebrated either. Molly wouldn’t have it. Instead she’d spent the day looking at her hands, crying, holding the children to her as tight as she could, and then crying some more.
The children had cried as well. All of them but Bill anyway. Bill thought he was too big a boy to cry now. Arthur hadn’t really known what to do; Molly was such a coper, his rock. The one he relied on daily.
He’d made cups of tea. Lots of them. His own mum had always said that things look better with a nice cup of tea in your hand. She’d not been right this time.
Tuesday he’d left work at lunchtime and come home. Molly had pretended that she was fine; she’d busied herself in the kitchen all morning. The meal they’d sat down to had been awful though. Molly’s meals were never awful, they were rarely even close to it. If that hadn’t worried him more than anything then her reaction to the children’s leftovers did.
They were a family of good eaters, the Weasleys. When others were complaining that their children didn’t like the move from milk to proper food, they’d never had that problem. It was like Molly knew what to do. It had always been like that.
From the moment Bill was born she’d just known how to mother him. He’d been the perfect baby. He’d fed as he should, slept as he should, and done everything just as he should. That was why they’d not wasted a moment in having Charlie.
Charlie hadn’t been much different. He’d been a bit more daring than Bill as he grew up. Someone had to keep an eye on him all the time once he was up on his feet. Once Percy had come along Bill had willingly taken the role from his mum and the two young boys had become the best of friends.
Arthur remembered feeling his heart swell with fatherly love one summer’s evening when Bill brought his younger brother in from the garden, holding his hand, and looking really solemn.
“I’m sorry dad,” he’d said, still holding Charlie’s hand.
“What’s wrong boys?” Arthur looked from one to the other.
“Look.” Charlie had pointed to his knee, a bit muddy and gritty. Right in the centre were a few drops of blood seeping through. “I felled over.”
“Sorry dad.” Bill said again. “I only looked away for a moment.”
Arthur could still remember know how crestfallen Bill had looked when he’d chuckled.
“Oh come here, you silly pair. You don’t have to be sorry.” He opened his arms wide and the two of them had gone running to him. “Now, tell me how this happened?”
As Arthur had cleaned and mended Charlie’s knee - not as well as Molly would have done had she not been taking a nap - Bill explained how they’d been chased around the garden by a gnome, and as he’d turned around to tell the gnome off Charlie had jumped over a big stone and caught his toe and fallen.
Ice-cream had put it all right. They were too small for cups of tea, but ice-cream always seemed to have the same effect.
That had been a few years ago. Now things were a bit different. Bill would be going to Hogwarts next September all things being equal and Charlie would be the big brother looking out for the little ones. Arthur could imagine him and Ron, barely able to walk steadily for far, out on their toy broomsticks in the meadow. They’d be a right pair those two. And then there were the twins.
Poor Percy, Arthur had to feel sorry for him. Already, at not much more than three and a half years old they were leading the poor boy a dog’s life. Molly was so proud of Percy and the way he approached his lessons. He was the quickest to pick up his letters and numbers, and already at not much more than five he could read enough to amuse his sister for a few minutes.
Their little girl, Ginevra. There were probably lots who thought they’d kept having babies to have a girl. It wasn’t the case though, they’d have been happy with all boys, or all girls. And just because they had a girl it didn’t mean they’d stop as was probably being said. They’d not said they’d have another, but they’d not said they wouldn’t. At least until last night. She’d actually said it last night.
“Are you okay love?” What a stupid thing to say? Of course she wasn’t okay. His wife was sitting in the kitchen her arms on the table and her head down sobbing. This was the fifth day, she couldn’t keep going for too long could she? When the boys, he still thought of them as that, had been lost it had been the same, but they were family. This time the victims were barely known to them. They weren’t family, but two people fighting the same cause as them.
“Arthur,” Molly had managed to croak out his name. “Arthur.”
“Ssssh love,” he smoothed her hair, holding her head against his stomach as she continued to cry. “Ssssh, it’ll be okay. You see.”
Molly leant into Arthur, and took comfort from his presence. As long as he was there then they’d all be okay, she knew that. It wasn’t them that was worrying her just now.
Right on cue a pair of small feet teetered their way into the kitchen and made a well known plaintive cry. “Hun’gree.”
Arthur smiled at the small red-headed boy, the youngest of his sons, who was always hun’gree these days. “I’ll get you something Ron,” he offered as Molly scooped him into her lap and started a fresh outburst of sobs.
One day she’d find a way to make it up to the other young lad, not much younger than her own perfect son. One day, she promised herself, she’d find a way to tell him how brave his parents had been.