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Spells fly everywhere, lights flashing all around. Some hit their target, others hit the walls, and stone dust hangs in the air like mist.
Molly fires away hexes, charms, and jinxes, barely taking time to breathe between incantations.
She has years of waiting behind to make up for.
It was quiet in the Burrow.
Another night of anxious waiting passed as slowly as sand trickling down an hourglass. The only sound was the soft click-clack of Molly's knitting needles as they slowly formed another jumper. At this rate, she'd clothe the entire wizarding world in jumpers.
"Could you stop that?"
Lily was glaring curses at the animated needles. Alice glanced at her nervously.
Molly swallowed down her sharp retort and flicked her wand. They were all on edge.
Silence fell, only broken by the tick of the family clock. Lily glared at that, too, but didn't say anything against it. Alice sighed, quiet and shaky.
The Burrow was quiet again.
The battle is loud.
Screams. Shouts. Gasps. Whimpers. People dying.
They blend together into a horrible, terrible white noise.
"What if they don't – "
"No."
Alice looked at Lily as if she'd snapped her wand. Molly looked between them, sympathy rising. She was used to it, but neither of them had ever been told they had to stay behind before.
It was hard, watching all the others leave, and having to cling to tenuous hope for hours and hours. Molly imagined that being the one left behind was sometimes the more difficult job.
But the two women who kept her company tonight had been out there. They knew exactly what their partners faced, exactly what danger they were in.
Alice was right to worry.
People call out across the chaos, trying to find the loved ones they've been separated from, desperate to know they're still alive.
Molly has too many names to call. She keeps her eyes open instead for red hair, bushy brown curls, and a black mop.
And most of all, she watches for one enemy in particular.
"I think we're in the wrong place," Arthur said as he entered the Burrow at last, with a teasing look in his eye. James Potter and Frank Longbottom follow behind him with mischievous smiles.
Molly narrowed her eyes at him, not fooled for a second, and waited for whatever line the men had cooked up that they thought was so clever.
"This appears to be the Headquarters of the Order of the Pregnant, not the Order of the Phoenix," James said, grinning unashamedly at the bad joke.
Alice laughed with her husband, Molly smiled and rolled her eyes at hers, and Lily tartly asked if James really thought it was that funny, which immediately shut him up. When it was only her and Arthur again, she waited for him to tell her what happened. He only made jokes after these things when they went poorly.
"Marlene," he finally said. Molly's gasp became a strangled sob. Arthur rubbed her back and belly softly. Their next child kicked back at his hand, innocent and oblivious.
"Who?" Molly finally asked, minutes later, when her tears have slowed. He hesitated.
"Bellatrix."
It's easy to spot Nymphadora, even from far away. Her hair is flashing, swapping between bright neon colors with every spell she fires.
She only just gave birth the day before – Molly is impressed.
But then she sees her opponent, and she wants to shove the metamorphmagus into the nearest Floo to safety.
She's too far away to save her.
Nymphadora trips. Bellatrix's wand flashes green.
Molly's scream goes unnoticed.
She remembered exactly where she was when she heard the news.
She was home. Alice was visiting, getting advice on how to handle Neville's new fascination with putting everything in his mouth. She couldn't ask her mother-in-law, she said, laughing it off as she struggled with the squirrely infant occupying her lap, because that woman found every fault with her parenting skills, and Alice desperately wanted to avoid giving her more reasons.
Molly was explaining a spell she'd used to charm every one of her children's favorite teething objects, when Frank's Patronus, a polecat, bounded in and stopped directly in front of Alice.
"The Potters are – " Frank's voice cracked and paused, " – Lily and James are dead. Harry's safe. Voldemort's gone, probably dead. We're moving on the rest of the Death Eaters now."
As the Patronus faded away, Molly looked at Alice and saw her own turbulent emotions reflected there. This was a victory, despite the losses, but the war was not over.
"Can I – "
"Yes, of course," Molly said, holding out her arms for Alice's son.
"Thank you," Alice said, passing over Neville, and suddenly there was the brightest hope in her grief-filled smile. "This could all be over soon."
She kissed Neville's head and then moved to the fireplace, smile still in place as green flames whisked her off to the Ministry.
Augusta Longbottom came for her grandson the next morning.
Frank and Alice were not found until almost two weeks after.
Bellatrix was dragged off to Azkaban, but Arthur had to talk Molly down from breaking in herself to kill her.
When the fight resumes again, Molly has one goal. She loses sight of her target a few times, but not for long.
She forces herself to ignore the noise of battle, pushing through the crowd, following the sound of manic laughter and a wild black mane.
Molly finds her, at last, facing down her only daughter, and then she bites spells off with raging fury, holding nothing back.
Bellatrix is obviously surprised but still laughs.
Molly wants to drag this out. She's thought about this, about making her hurt and beg and scream in pain, but it's the laughter that decides the other witch's fate. She can't tolerate another second of existence with Bellatrix alive.
She doesn't actually remember saying the words, but she must have, because green light leaves her wand and strikes exactly where she intended it to go.
The witch falls, and Molly smiles.