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“Happy Father’s Day, Love”, Molly Weasley said as she kissed her husband’s cheek.
The ginger haired man smiled as he bounced Billy, their 8 month old son, on his leg.
“Thanks, Mollywobbles,” he said as he blew a raspberry on the baby’s tender cheek. The baby smelled of milk and calendula which Arthur found intoxicating. “Wouldn’t be a Dad without you”.
Arthur had just turned 20 when their contraceptive charm malfunctioned. Bill was born just after Molly turned 21. The pair had been working in the Ministry but Molly resigned her position as a curse breaker when it became unsafe for her to continue working while pregnant. Arthur worked in DMLE with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts and loved his job. It didn’t pay much but they would manage until after they were finished having babies and Molly could go back to work.
“Any regrets, Arthur?” she asked as she peered at him through her fringe. She had found out she was pregnant on Beltane and the pair were married at the Summer Solstice; Molly and Arthur’s respective fathers were unyielding on that score. Children were born to bonded parents, end of story.
“Nary a one; I can’t imagine my life without you and Billy here,” he replied earnestly.
Make no mistake, he’d be terrified when Molly told him she was pregnant. They were not even three years out of Hogwarts when, what was that muggle expression again? Oh yes, when the rabbit died. Fabien and Gideon Prewitt had shown up at Arthur’s flat, wands at the ready. He would do right by their sister, or else.
Their wedding had been at sunset and everyone, including the bride who had had a temporary reprieve from her morning sickness and fatigue, had danced until sunrise. They moved into their tiny house in Ottery St. Cathpole on land that had been gifted to them as part of Molly’s dowry, though Charles Prewitt grumbled the whole time that it was no better than paying the thief who stole from you.
“You and Billy make me so very happy, Molly. Getting you up the duff has been the best thing I’ve done so far,” he said with a cheeky grin.
*********
Arthur had been called into work on the Sunday morning in June, 1973, when he should have been celebrating this third Father’s Day. Last year, Molly surprised him with the news that she was pregnant again and if Arthur was honest, he was praying to Merlin, Morgana, and anyone else listening that no such announcement would be forthcoming this year.
Charlie was an easy baby; he hardly ever fussed or cried and when he did, it was because he was hungry or needed a nappy change.
The garden door was open but Molly had the wireless on while she made dinner and didn’t hear the pop of apparition. Charlie was on her hip and Billy was seated on the floor playing with blocks as he studied the three of them from the yard.
While Molly might say that pregnancy had made her soft and she still had a few pounds to lose after Charlie’s birth but Arthur thought she looked like a goddess.
“Hello Weasley’s!” he called as he walked in to the house.
“Daddy!!” called Billy as he pushed himself to his feet and ran towards the door.
Arthur bent down and scooped up the ginger toddler before walking over to his wife to kiss her cheek and relieve her of the baby.
“Let me take him and free up your hands.”
“Thank you, Arthur. He’s been teething and hasn’t wanted to be put down much today. I’ve not got the laundry folded, the nappies need to be washed, and properly mind, not just with a spell, the beds haven’t been made…”
“I’ll start the nappies and get these two bathed, shall I?”
“It’s Father’s Day, Arthur, you shouldn’t need to help…”
“It’s because I am a father that I do help. They’re my responsibility just as much as yours,” he interjected. “Partners, Mollywobbles. Come on you two, tubby time!”
He disappeared up the stairs and Molly could hear him start the bath as he sang to the boys. She heard the door of the washer, in the loo, which while not the done thing in muggle homes, was supremely convenient for a magic house where plumbing wasn’t an issue, and knew he was doing as he said.
“Partners indeed,” she smiled.
*******
On his seventh Father’s Day, Arthur Weasley was not awoken by the angelic smiles of his children, or even a tender kiss from his wife, but rather a crash, a wail, and a yell.
“William and Charles Weasley, how many times have I told you NOT to play Quidditch in the house!!” she yelled over the wails of her youngest child. Percy had been playing on the floor when Charlie and Bill, she wasn’t sure who had thrown the quaffle, succeeded in knocking over the teapot she had just filled, splashing Baby Percy with hot tea.
“What’s all this?!” Arthur asked as he ran into the room.
“I didn’t mean to hurt the baby,” Charlie wailed.
“Is he alright?” Arthur asked as he looked over her shoulder at Percy.
“I’ve put a cooling spell on his clothes and I just need to heal the burns. Pass me the paste, please, the green jelly on the top shelf?”
Twenty minutes later, Percy was as good as new, in dry clothes with burn paste dotted on his fair skin. Arthur had taken the two older boys outside and talked about the importance of playing outside and being mindful of the baby. Apologies were made to their mother and brother before the family of 5 finally sat down for their breakfast.
“Happy Father’s Day, Arthur.”
“Happy Father’s Day indeed.”
*******
Father’s Day 1979 barely registered for either adult in The Burrow. Bill was 8, almost 9, and Charlie was 6.5, if you cared to ask him. Percy was almost 3 and the twins, Merlin bless them, were just shy of 3 months. Which was, ironically enough, the last time Arthur slept through the night.
Going from 3 boys to 5 boys had been a shock, to say the least. When the midwitch told them it was twins, you could have knocked Arthur over with a feather. They had, thankfully, come quickly and Molly recovered well from the birth but between nursing the twins and caring for the other three, Molly was exhausted and close to tears.
“You go have a lie down and I’ll take this lot for a walk by the pond. I’ve the laundry changed and it’s out on the line so why don’t you feed the babies and I’ll make up our bed- the sheets are just in off the line,” he half told his wife. He was t one to tell his wife what to do but she looked done in and ready to break to tears at any second.
“Oh Arthur, I’m so sorry I forgot,” she said as she saw the cards on the mantle. The boys had made him cards for Father’s Day and she had put them up high so Percy wouldn’t touch them. “I haven’t even made you a cup of tea today,” she sobbed.
“You made me 5 beautiful babies; I’ll take that over a cup of tea any day,” he smiled as he kissed the top of her head. “I wouldn’t be a father without you; it’s only fair I share the day.”
“I love you, Arthur Weasley,”
******
On Arthur’s 10th Father’s Day, the house was very still. Lord Voldemort was gathering strength and trying to encourage those purebloods to join him. He and Molly didn’t hold with any foolish notions on blood purity or limiting magi to all- magic families; surely the rest of the Sacred Twenty- Eight would see that, like muggle royal families, you can only marry your first cousin so many times before your offspring would suffer for it, or worse, no offspring would come.
His ever growing family had pushed the family finances to the limit but on his wand oath, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Baby Ronald, Ronnie, as they called him, brought the total up to 6 boys in 11 years. He was quite happy to have three month old Ronnie be the last but just that morning, Molly told him that she wanted to try, just once more, for a little girl.
Personally, after six boys, he reckoned there was better luck getting the Goblins to hand over the entirety of their vaults to a dragon reserve than for Arthur Weasley to sire a witch but like in all things, he never could say no to Molly.
He deftly changed the baby’s nappy and got him dressed in his nightgown. The blue gown, covered with gold snitches and brooms and a tie around the bottom was faded from use; he vaguely thought it had been a baby gift for Charlie when the novelty of Molly and Arthur having babies was still new. This little chap had hand-me-down everything, from the nappy on his bottom to the bassinet he was about to be placed in. Molly had nursed him while Arthur had overseen bath and pyjamas for the older boys and now was his time alone with the baby.
“Well Ronnie, my lad, let’s get you tucked into bed and down for the night, shall we? Clean bum, full tummy…goodnight, sweet boy,” he whispered as he kissed the baby’s head and set him into his bed.
“Happy Father’s Day, Arthur,” Molly said as she hugged him from behind. Her face touched him between his shoulder blades and she placed her hands over his heart. “Of all the men in all of wizarding Britain, I could have never found a better father for my children.”
“Not even Amos Diggory?”
“No,” she laughed. Amos had been her sweetheart in third year and Arthur often teased her about it.
“What about Alastor Moody? A dashing auror?”
“He’s called Mad- eye, you know that right?” she giggled again.
“What about Lucius Malloy?” he asked as he turned around.
“I’ve no interest in galleons; I’ve only got eyes for you,” she said as she gently cupped his cheek. “I love you with all of my heart and every breath in my body; I’m sorry if I don’t tell you enough.”
“You’ve shown me every day for the past 11 years.”
“Happy Father’s Day, Arthur.”
*********
For the first time in ages, Father’s Day had gone off without a hitch. This one, was, for Molly at least, bitter sweet. She watched from their bedroom door as Arthur sat on the bed, surrounded by the boys and with little Ginny in his lap as he read Babbity Rabbity and Her Cackling Stump to their children. All seven of them. For the last time on Father’s Day. On September 1, Bill, almost 12, would get on the Hogwarts Express. They wouldn’t have another Father’s Day with all seven kids again until Ginny finished Hogwarts in 16 years.
“Come join us, Mum, we’ve almost got to your favorite part!” called Percy. “Move over Freddie! Make room for Mummy.”
She snuggled into the bed, next to her husband and picked up Fred and gave him a snuggle. He could sometimes be persuaded to let his mother have a cuddle but those days were starting to get few and far between.
“Happy Father’s Day, Dad,” smiled Bill.
Arthur looked at the sea of seven ginger heads and smiled.
“Thank you, my darling.”
He never indicated it, but Molly was sure he was thanking her. She leaned in and nuzzled Arthur’s neck before kissing him behind his ear.
“You’re very welcome.”
*******
Arthur’s 28th Father’s Day was unnatural. It was too quiet in the house, and only Ginny had managed to wish him a Happy Father’s Day. He didn’t even realize the date.
Never again would he have seven children to fuss over him; an unnatural six would be his lot, until the end of his days. Fred was gone. The Dark Lord defeated, wizarding Britain saved, but he had lost his middle child. People said, you’re fortunate that you didn’t lose more, and while that may be true, other families had lost more people, he lost his Freddie, his mischief maker, his smile on the cloudiest of days.
He tried to hide it from Molly and from George. His poor Georgie lost the other half of his soul and it felt selfish to shed tears in his presence. Molly, bless her, had carried the baby, cared for him, nursed him, mended his scrapes and bumps, and the multitude of things he’d broken since the early 80s; how dare he pretend his pain was as great as hers?
“Happy Father’s Day,” she called from the door of his shed. He’s taken to crying his heart out there where he wouldn’t be seen, so as not to burden her with his grief.
He smiled grimly as he beckoned her into his arms.
The pair were quiet for a long while. This was the first holiday since Fred was killed.
“He was your boy as much as he was mine, you know.”
And with that simple statement, the flood gates opened and the tears poured down Arthur’s face, mingling with the tears of his wife of 29 years.
“I don’t know if I’ll feel happy again,” he choked.
“Yes, you will. Because Fred would hex the lot of us if we didn’t find cheer in the world again.”
“I don’t know how to be a father without all seven of them,” he cried. “How do we move on, Molly?”
“We’ll figure out.”
*******
And they did, of course. Fred’s death became a scar; healed but never erased completely. Always there as a reminder of when they were a family of nine.
In time, their family grew. First nine, again, and it kept going until it was comprised of 6 children, 5 children in law, and 11 grandchildren, though it wouldn’t surprise him if Charlie showed up with a partner and few kids on this, his and Molly’s 50th wedding anniversary.
The old couple was having a lie in, knowing full well the pair would be engulfed in hugs and kisses the minute the clan showed up.
“Happy Father’s Day,” Molly smiled as she leaned into kiss her husband.
“Any regrets?”
“Nary a one,” she smiled as she deepened the kiss. “Fifty years later and I still wouldn’t pick anyone else to be the father of my babies.”
“I love you Mollywobbles.”
“I love you too, Arthur.”