Work Text:
"Babbity had been hiding in the stump the whole time. She left the kingdom, but forever after the statue of Babbity remained on top of the stump, and no witch or wizard was hurt in that kingdom ever again." Molly closed the book with a smile, leaning back in her armchair with a soft sigh as she gazed at the sleepy pile of boys gathered at her feet.
"One more, mum?" Charlie piped up, hugging a toadstool-shaped pillow to his chest.
"Oh, I don't know," Molly said, her gaze cutting briefly over towards the clock on the mantle. "It's getting late, boys…"
Arthur took a moment to admire her. The late hour was written plainly on her face; in the subtle circles beneath her bright brown eyes that continued to grow a wee bit darker with every passing year. With every new addition to their family. Somehow, it suited her. Each tiny crease that adorned the outside corners of her eyes — every tiny, white-as-snow hair that popped up amidst the brilliant flame of her hair (which she promptly plucked out) — signified yet another year of nurturing the hearts and minds and magic of their ever-growing children.
She was breathtaking.
"Please, mum?" Percy asked quietly, shuffling forward on plaid-covered knees. Ever the polite little lad, he didn't beg, but merely stared up at her with wide, pleading eyes.
"More, mummy! More!" The twins — erm, one of the twins— cried out, bursting up to his feet from his spot on the floor and clumsily clambering up onto her lap.
Molly grinned, heaving out a sigh that was more put-upon than it was true exasperation as she helped Freddie —or was it George?— up onto her lap where he proceeded to wrap his small arms around her middle, nestling his beaming face into her chest. As was expected, George —or was it Fred?— quickly followed suit, unwilling to be left out. Both boys squirmed around in her lap, competing for the comfiest spot against her soft body. Against the subtle swell of the growing babe they hadn't yet announced to the world.
Arthur glanced down at wee baby Ronnie who had only just drifted off to sleep in his arms, his pudgy cheeks all aglow, one thumb stuck loosely in his tiny mouth. His chest seemed to rise and fall to the rhythm of Arthur's rocking, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth beneath his eyelids, a sure sign if there ever was one that he was lost in dreamland. Whatever it was that infants dreamt about, Arthur hoped it was pleasant.
As he lifted his head once again, Molly met his gaze, a glimmer of humour in the stern set of her mouth. "I don't know — what does dad think?" she said.
At once, a sea of small fiery heads turned to look at him. Even Bill — who was home from his first year at Hogwarts on Easter Hols — looked up from the book he had been quietly reading in the corner.
"Say yes, Dad! Say yes!" Charlie insisted, bouncing up and down on his bum.
Arthur turned to Molly, raising his eyebrows in silent question. She smiled. Small, wispy tendrils of her wavy hair had escaped the charmed pile atop her head, trailing down to frame the warm apples of her freckled cheeks. After oh-so-many years, his heart still caught momentarily in his chest at the sight of that smile.
Sure, they were tired. But he didn't think he would ever tire of growing a family with her.
"Hmm," he hummed quite theatrically, putting his free hand to his chin in thought. Finally, as he shot a wink towards his wife, he told the boys, "Yes, I think we ought to have just one more…"
As the room erupted into cheers, Arthur thought privately to himself that he might like the new babe to be a little girl. Wouldn't that be something?