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As a survivor of the First War and a mother of seven, Molly firmly believed that every cloud had a silver lining. How could she not? Yet, as the Second Wizarding War progressed, it seemed that the dark clouds blocking her sun only made way for more thunderous clouds.
“And this is why I always have a bag ready in case I need to run. You never know, with all these wars.”
Under Molly’s cloudy sky, Aunt Muriel was a dementor no patronus or niceties could deter. By the time the war was over, Molly’s soul, happiness, and joy would be completely drained.
“We weren’t planning on running, Aunt Muriel. The ghoul fooled them for months.”
“What are you doing invading my home, then?”
Muriel’s tone made clear she was not expecting an answer, and Molly almost let out a sigh of relief when none of her boys provided her with one.
The bags in front of her would take hours to sort out, she knew, and the prospect was exhausting enough without having to mediate a fight between her great-aunt and one of her twins. In the bag in front of her, mismatched shoes had been thrown in with jumpers, dresses, and socks. This was the one she had put the most effort into, which filled her with dread as she spotted a maternity dress she hadn’t known she still possessed.
When Bill’s warning had come, she had immediately rushed through her home and gathered clothes and things she wouldn’t be able to replace if the home ever got destroyed. The result was five bags filled with things she would have to store in the guest room of her aunt, random clothes she wasn’t sure she could wear together without looking like a Lovegood, and an ever-growing list of things she was realizing she had left behind and might very well already have turned to ashes.
Taking refuge in Muriel’s house had seemed like a good idea at the time, up until exactly three minutes after their arrival when the old witch had started berating the twins for choosing life over their business and reminding Molly of all the things she could have done with her life that wouldn’t have led her family to be declared traitors. Arthur had tried to lighten the mood by reminding her that holding back for three whole minutes was a record for Muriel, Molly hadn’t laughed.
“Well, I’m off to bed,” the ill-mannered witch announced at precisely half past nine. “Try not to draft any other poorly-thought plans to fool the government while you’re here.”
“Have a good night,” Molly offered through gritted teeth. “Thank you for allowing us to stay here.”
Muriel scoffed at that, her eyes rolling in a way that would have made Molly grab her wooden spoon if it had come from one of her children.
“Yes, well. Family, I suppose. Think nothing of it, I’m sure you’ll know how to make yourself useful around here.”
As soon as she was out of the room, the twins fell dramatically on the couch, scowling in the direction of Muriel’s room.
“I told you so,” Fred mimicked in a shrill voice.
“I suppose Ronald wasn’t boasting about being friends with Harry Potter then,” George joined with the same voice. “A troublemaker in need of a good haircut, but not a liar at least.”
“And your girl, then? A frail little thing, alone in a big castle like this!”
“Have you lost your job then, Arthur? People with that many mouths to feed should keep their opinions to themselves.”
“What about your little shop, boys?”
“In my days, investors would have come looking for you and dragged you back by the neck.”
To Arthur’s credit, he didn’t laugh at his sons' imitations.
“Family, I suppose?” he offered Molly with a wink before turning towards the twins. “Come on, boys. You have your own bags to unpack.”
Molly was doing her best to be patient. Really, she was. But after half a minute of her husband’s easy smiles and lazy rummaging in the bag in front of him and she felt like a pressure cooker ready to explode.
“How can you be so calm?”
“Would it help to panic?” Offered Arthur, unbothered.
“We might have already lost our home! Oh, Ron’s birthday gift is still there! And our wedding pictures! What are we going to do?”
“Well,” Fred’s voice rose from the couch on which he was still sprawled next to his brother. “I thought it would go without saying that Georgie and myself would provide the entertainment.”
“And I’m sure Aunt Muriel will graciously provide all of us with fun activities. She was talking about her porch needing repainting and her rain gutter being filled with dead leaves earlier.”
Molly had no patience for their shenanigans and matching grins.
“About the home, boys! Our home! And don’t you dare make Muriel throw you out, you need to hide just as much as your father and I!”
Without a word, Arthur grabbed her hand and tugged her closer to him. Before she could react, she was trapped in her husband’s arms. She let out a frustrated sigh, not a protest exactly but just enough to tell him she could see right through his tactics. Her arms reluctantly circled around his torso as one of his hands started drawing soothing circles down her spine.
“Come on, Mollywobbles,” he crooned gently, a soft kiss landing on the top of her head. “Everyone’s safe and sound, it’s all that matters. We can build plenty of homes.”
Behind her, the twins were making gag noises at the sight.
“Ew, dad!”
“Come on, man, that’s our mum!”
Arthur only pressed her closer to him in answer, prompting another round of gags.
“That’s disgusting. I’m out,” announced George.
“Seriously, there’s already seven of us,” muttered Fred as he rose from the couch after his twin.
Arthur’s laugh reverberated through his chest and Molly felt it more than heard it as the twins made a show of leaving the room.
“They’ll never grow up, will they?” She chuckled against her husband’s chest.
“One can always hope,” answered Arthur with the same tone.
Silence settled around them and they stayed still, both seeking comfort in the other.
“Seriously, Arthur,” Molly eventually sighed. “What are we going to do about our home?”
She didn’t protest as Arthur detangled himself from her and brought his hands up to cup her jaw, tilting her head back to be able to look into her eyes.
“I meant what I said. The house doesn’t matter, we can build another one.”
“But ─”
“We know where almost all of the children are. We made sure as many of them as possible were safe. We are safe.”
It took everything in Molly to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes as Arthur kept talking, his voice more serious than ever.
“You’re my home. We can build another house, but I only have one wife. What happens to the burrow, our clothes or the wedding pictures doesn’t matter as long as we’re safe. Alright?”
It was Molly’s turn to press Arthur against her. She buried her face in her husband’s chest, hoping to hide her tears. Tears of fear or relief, she didn’t know.
“You’re right,” she nodded against him. “I’m sorry.”
Another kiss landed on her head as Arthur’s arms went back around her.
He was right, Molly knew. And as she calmed down in her husband’s warmth, she almost believed everything would be alright. At the moment, everything was. She was home.