I Own Nothing!
Molly Weasley was nothing if not practical. True, she sometimes did like the finer things in life, but unfortunately they had not always been available to her; she soon learned to cope without them. What she did love and indulge in, however, was food.
She loved the feeling of pouring a random bunch of ingredients together, mixing them perfectly and delicately, and ending up with a beautiful-tasting masterpiece. She loved mixing all of the ingredients into a symphony of flavours that would leave the taster speechless. And she especially loved tasting the menagerie of flavours herself, and mixing them to create new and exciting things – she loved experimenting. It was rather like potions, something that Molly excelled in at school, except food was mostly about taste and wouldn't blow up if you tried something new.
Molly loved creating taste. It was her talent, so to speak.
And so it was always she who brewed the family potions and cooked the dinner. She truly never minded, no matter how many times she half-heartedly complained to her family. To her, it wasn't a chore, but rather something she enjoyed immensely. Unfortunately, her love of food came with a setback.
Gazing into the mirror in front of her, Molly Weasley could only think of one way to describe herself: she was fat. Running her hands over her body's curves she noticed with distaste that they were much too pronounced, and there were far too many for her liking. She turned to the side, to see whether that would make her look slightly slimmer; seeing the result, and not feeling any happier with it, she sighed and flopped onto her bed. The new dress she had bought was thrown unceremoniously to the floor; it didn't look right, probably never would.
Burying her face in her hands Molly tried to fight back the tears, but she heard Arthur heading up the stairs.
Arthur. How could he possible want her, looking like she did? She thought back to her youth, remembering how slim she'd been then, and how enamoured of her he'd been. Now she couldn't bear to look at him; she didn't want to see the disgust in his eyes.
"…Molly?" He sounded cautious, like he'd heard her. "I saw the clock…are you alright?" Molly inwardly rolled her eyes; useful as the enchanted gift was she did sometimes hate it, and right now she wished it had never even existed.
"I'm fine Arthur, really." Her voice sounded fake, even in her own ears. She heard Arthur's footsteps approach slowly from the doorway, and felt the mattress sink as he sat down beside her; he tenderly wiped away the fallen tears. When he'd finished he cupped her cheek and whispered softly to her.
"What is bothering you, my dear?" Seeing the love in his eyes, and her own image reflected back at her, Molly started to tear up again.
"Oh, it's nothing Arthur I just…I-do you think I'm fat?" Her last words slipped out around the excuse she was desperately trying to find, and were spoken in a worried whisper. Unable to look at his expression, Molly turned away.
"…Is that what this is about? You think you're fat?" His voice was light, like he was relieved. Molly whirled to face him.
"Yes Arthur, and you can stop laughing! This isn't funny!" Arthur's face softened.
"I didn't mean it like that Molly. Yes, you may be a little…cuddly," As he said this he moved to wrap his arms around her waist and rest his chin on her shoulder. "But you're still beautiful, you should know that." Molly avoided his eye and he sighed before dropping a kiss onto her forehead. "I personally wouldn't have you any other way, Molly Wobbles. You're stunning in your own way."
Molly made a noncommittal noise and scowled into the mirror. "Then why don't I feel like it?" She murmured, pinching her stomach. "Why is it that every time I look at Alice, or Maria, all I can see is how slim they look in their newest robes? And when I l-look at m-myself… all I can s-see is this huge blob of disgusting f-fat!" Her voice rose towards the end and the tears behind her eyes started flowing down her face. Arthur immediately responded, enclosing her in a soft hug.
"You are by no means a disgusting blob of fat Molly. Never think that. You are Molly Weasley, my beautiful wife who is perfect in every way." She sniffed in disbelief and he regarded her carefully, and then pulled her chin up so she was looking right into his eyes. "You have the most amazing brown eyes, so expressive and warm. Your hair is such a vivid red it looks like it's on fire. Your mouth is perfectly shaped- even when it's shouting at me. And your body is neither unhealthily thin, nor full of fat." He kissed her lovingly. "I don't know how to make you believe it Molly, but you are perfect in my eyes. And we haven't even started talking about your personality."
There was a moment of silence as Molly tried to measure the truth in his words.
"…Arthur, do you mean that?" She whispered tentatively. He nodded.
"Of course I do." He looked directly into her eyes for a moment, almost as if he was trying to telepathically convey his honesty, giving Molly a chance to read his open expression. Then he broke the silence. "Now, where is that lovely dress you were going to wear to the party? If we don't hurry, we'll be late." Molly blushed, her eyes travelling awkwardly to the mound of fabric on the floor. Arthur followed her gaze and mentally shook his head. With a wave of his wand, he had the dress freshly ironed and in her waiting arms. Upon seeing her look of surprise, he grinned at her and shrugged. "I had to have learned a thing or two from all these years, Molly, don't look so surprised."
A sly grin flitted across her face. "Excellent, you can help me with all the washing next time then." Arthur's easy smile vanished, giving way to a wide eyed, terrified look.
"Oh I'd love to Molly, but unfortunately the office has had a recent increase in…." He walked hurriedly as he spoke and trailed off as he slipped out of the door, leaving her to change for the party. Molly watched him leave fondly, and then turned to look at herself in the mirror. She bit her lip, still seeing the ugly stretch marks and blemishes, but determinedly put the dress back on and sat down to apply some Muggle make-up. When she'd finished she looked again, hopeful that something had changed - hopeful that her momentary belief in Arthur's words would cause her reflection to change, so she could see what Arthur supposedly saw in her.
What she saw shocked her; had she not looked as her reflection now did for most of her younger life she would've been very alarmed. Staring back at her was the woman who used to haunt her mirrors before she discovered her love of cooking, and before she married and settled; the woman was her, twenty years old again, dressed in a beautiful silk dress. She remembered it well; its white folds hugged her skin and melded softly with the veil on her head. Arthur was in his dress robes, stood waiting awkwardly at the altar. As Molly watched the mirror in fascination, words began to form on its surface. They were a lovely golden colour, but were written in Arthur's slightly scruffy script.
'Molly,
This is how I, and everyone else who is important, see you. No-one else matters.
The thing about looking in mirrors is that you don't ever see your personality, but you're wonderfully beautiful inside and out. I love you, and always will. Arthur.'
As soon as she had read them, the words disappeared, leaving the image of her older self staring back at her. Cocking her head to the side, Molly frowned. She tried to see whatever Arthur saw, but no matter how hard she tried her undeniable size seemed to blot it out.
Slumping in defeat she sagged, her features melting into despondent curves. As she heaved herself up to leave, she spotted a note on her door. 'Remember.' This caused her to instantly recall Arthur's image and his sweet note. She perked up slightly, deciding that for now, it didn't matter what she thought she looked like – as long as Arthur still cared about her.