"Er...Molly?"
"Yes?"
Arthur knew, logically, that she wasn't doing it on purpose. She wasn't doing the whole spin-around-daintily-with-hair-flying-about-and-a-wide-eyed-look thing on purpose. But still. "Erm. Hey."
"Hi. What's up?"
"Nothing much." Dolt. "How about you?"
"Oh, the same. Just relaxing, you know, after the match. 'Twas brilliant." She hopped up onto the nearest windowsill, her legs swinging.
"Yeah, yeah it was." Arthur tried hard to not stare at her legs.
Molly appeared to have not heard him. She had that look that Arthur liked to call 'stars in her eyes.' Dolt dolt. "Everyone just played so well! And that one catch, when Maria threw it straight down and Mark swooped in like some sort of majestic bird and...I love Quidditch. Sorry, I babble," she finished sheepishly.
"No, no, it's perfectly fine." Stop talking about Mark, perhaps, but...
"So..."
Arthur was about to make up some excuse and leave, but a sudden flare of Gryffindor confidence inspired him to stand his ground. "Molly, I was wondering..."
"Yes?"
"Would you like to go to Hogsmeade? With me?" There, he'd said it.
Molly hopped down off the window, right in front of him. "Really?"
"I mean, you don't have to. I just thought that maybe..."
"Of course I will!" She smiled. "It's just that..."
"What?" Arthur asked, panicky.
"Well...I've been waiting for ages now. There, I've said it."
"What?"
She giggled. "I said, I've been waiting for you to ask forever. I was so afraid that you'd find out. Everyone in the Tower knows. I'm so dreadful at keeping secrets."
"Oh." Arthur's heart rate returned to normal. "I see. So, yes?"
"Definitely. Pick me up in the common room beforehand? Or meet up somewhere?"
"I can walk you in. If that's okay."
"That's perfect. Six?"
"Six it is. See you then."
Molly said bye and ran off, giving
him one last look before rounding the corner.
een
Once he was
positive she was out of sight, he collapsed against the wall, his
legs shaking. She'd said yes. Molly had said yes. He had asked her,
and she'd agreed.
Much calmer, he closed his eyes and began
daydreaming, as usual, about their encounter. The idea that the
entire Tower had known before him made him chuckle.
Unless...wait. No. No no no no no.
It had been a tense two days. Coming early to every meal, leaving early, running to class at the last possible minute...McGonagall had given him a curious look earlier today, but he had mumbled something about being behind in his work. He'd gotten off with a stern reprimand--and a escort all the way to class.
The Fat Lady was chatting with her friend. Normally, Arthur would have been polite, but this week was different. "Pixie dust, pixie dust, come on, open up!"
She looked at him with annoyance. "Well, excuse yourself, young man."
Arthur was about to apologise when someone said from behind, "Really, Weasley, you ought to be more polite to a lady."
Another voice joined the first. "Apologise, won't you?" His voice was light, but Arthur could hear steely undertones.
Without even bothering to look behind him, Arthur smiled wide at the Fat Lady. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."
"It's quite alright, dear. Here you go." She clicked open, seemingly unaware of Arthur's looks of abject terror.
Arthur silently scrambled into the Common Room, trying to make his way to his dorm. It was hopeless, he knew, but still...
"Where are you going? Come, join us."
"Yes, do. We've been trying to catch for a while. You must be a popular man around here, Weasley, because you're never around."
Arthur took a deep breath, trying to muster some of his AMSY (After Molly Said Yes) courage. He turned around and promptly lost it.
Fabian and Gideon Prewett started at him, in a manner not unlike that with which a lion ogles its prey. Arthur attempted to look at least maintain posession of his motor facilities (sitting, standing, running for dear life), but it was slightly difficult when faced with two six feet, two hundred pounds of muscle, seventh-year, top-of-their-class almost-wizards. With gleaming hair and polished pearly fangs (were teeth really that sharp?) to boot.
"Fabian! Gideon!" Arthur tried to say, but it kind of came out as "Fa...Ga..."
"Sit down, sit down," said Fabian, transfiguring a spindly, wooden chair that Arthur was positive he'd seen in a Muggle law enforcement film. "Now, Weasley--can I call you Arthur? Okay? Arthur, then, how're you doing?"
"Fine."
"Nothing happening?"
"No."
"Doing well in classes?"
"Yes."
"Not much homework?"
"No."
"What, no OWLs coming up?"
"No."
"Did you see the Quidditch game?"
"Yes."
"Enjoy yourself?"
"Yes. Um, you played well. Both of you."
Gideon laughed. It was a big, throaty laugh that made Arthur jump. "He speaks!"
Fabian shushed him. "Be nice."
Gideon leant forward; Arthur attempted to lean back. "So, Arthur--actually, do you mind if I call you Weasley? Good. So, Weasley, anything new happen lately?"
"Not quite."
"Anything interesting? Anything?"
Arthur shook his head stiffly.
Fabian jumped in, evidentially impatient. "Nothing? Come, something new must have happened. New socks?"
"New shoes?"
"New tie?"
"New quill?"
Arthur shook his head again. "I...I need a new quill..."
"Perfect! There's this great place for quills...Gideon, what's it called? The place with the red sign?"
"Oh, Schrivenshaft's?"
"Schrivenshaft's! That's it. You should go there, Arthur. As a matter of fact, why don't we take you there ourselves? Say, next Hogsmeade weekend? Your first, isn't it?" his tone grew highly suggestive.
Arthur smiled weakly. "The thing is...I'm...well, I don't know if you know..."
"Yes?" Gideon, once again, was showing all three hundred of his razor sharp teeth.
"I'mgoingtoHogsmeadewithMolly."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm going to Hogsmeade with Molly!"
There was a deadly silence, in which Arthur attempted to quell his heart attack and Fabian and Gideon attempted to restrain from attacking him. After no one spoke for a while, Arthur bravely ventured, "Um..."
"Number one," said Gideon, glaring at him. Fabian appeared to have gone into shock. "Number one, you will pick her up on time. Number one, you will pay for everything. Number one, you will be a gentleman. Number one, you will remain at all times at least one foot away from her. Number one, you are to remain in areas where you can be observed, namely Zonko's, the centre tables in the Three Broomsticks, the Post Office, and Honeydukes. Number one, you will have her back before dark. Any questions?"
Arthur nodded.
"Good. Nice talking with you, Weasley. Fab, let's go."
Fabian mumbled something; Arthur caught the words, 'Molly' and 'baby,' along with a few others that would have earnt him a solid walloping at home.
Not wasting another second, Arthur bolted for his room.
In avoiding Gideon, Fabian, and Molly, Arthur had barely seen the light of day by the time Friday rolled around. One of Molly's friends, a waifish blond girl named Charlotte, cornered him in her nightgown as he snuck down to breakfast.
"What are you doing? It's six in the morning."
"What are you doing, then?"
"I was trying to find you."
"Oh. I, uh, couldn't sleep."
"Arthur. You fell asleep in Muggle Studies. You adore Muggle Studies. It's slightly nauseating, actually."
"Yeah, well, so?"
She looked him in the eye. "Arthur, are you planning on ditching Molly? Because, by Merlin, if you are..."
"NO! I mean, no, I'm not. What would give you that idea?"
"Well, let's see. You haven't spoken to her all week, except on Wednesday in Potions when she asked you to pass the sandalwood paste. You're never around, you're secretive...even your friends don't see you around."
"It's not that, it's just..."
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Listen. If you take one false step, you're in for it, okay?" With that, she poked him in the chest and huffed back upstairs.
Do I look like some sort of molester?
When six o'clock finally arrived, Arthur found himself in the common room being watched from all sides. In a corner, Gideon and Fabian were pretending to read. Apparently, most of the elder boys had sided with the two brothers, because half of the male population was eyeing him with blatant hatred. The other half of the Gryffindor boys were either giving him the thumbs up sign, or nervously glancing at the glares of the Prewett brothers. The females, who Arthur did his level best to ignore, uniformly wavered between a deep suspicion and a giggly dreamy look.
Just when he was about to cower in frustration, Molly showed up.
"Arthur!"
Instantly, everyone in the common room had something to do. "Molly," Arthur replied, with much relief. "Hey. How're you doing?"
"I'm fine, thank you. And you?"
Arthur grinned widely. "Fine," he choked out, keenly aware of the death-glares.
"Are you sure? I haven't seen you around much, I thought perhaps you were sick..."
"No, no, nothing like that. Just some work. Wanna go?" Arthur sort-of-kind-of noticed her hand drifting towards his, but he was still acutely aware of the glares at him back. Plus, he wasn't suicidal. Much. Hastily shovings his hands in his pockets, he stood up.
She awkwardly transferred the motion into smoothing down the non-existant ruffles in her skirt. With characteristic Molly grace, she beamed widely and said, "Lead the way!"
"I'm so bloody excited for this! I mean, everyone has been talking non-stop about this, and it seemed like it would never get here..." a slow, gradual blush was appearing on her face, and Arthur had to concentrate very hard to pay attention to her conversation.
"Same here."
"I can't wait. I have a humungous list of places I want to see. Definitely the classics--you know, Zonko's and Three B and whatnot, but I'd also like to check out some of the smaller shops. I promise to avoid Puddifoot's, though." She giggled.
Arthur remarked to himself that it was a nice laugh, and then realised that such a thought would get him killed. "Oh, yeah. Erhm."
"It's great that they're doing this so close to Hallowe'en, too. When's the curfew?"
"It's, um, well..." It's 10:30 for us, he wanted to say, but instead he said, "I'm not quite sure, but I've got a load of work to do."
"Oh. I mean, me too."
Not. She'd been working like mad to not have any work this week. Arthur knew. He'd seen her in the library the first few days, when he'd tried to hide in there. "So, say, 8? I'm sorry..."
"Eight's fine. Don't even bother apologising, silly. We've got multiple weekends ahead of us."
The use of the pronoun 'we' made Arthur's insides turn to mush. Not enough mush, of course, to override Gideon's Number one, you will remain at all times at least one foot away from her. Because she was sneaking up on him, and was just about to lightly touch his arm to point out something when he panicked, side-stepped, and nearly fell into a ditch. "Ow."
"Klutz."
"Am not!"
"Are too. You fall over the stairs all the time."
"Stalker." The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. A horrified look had certainly appeared on his face, because Molly's face softened.
"Maybe I am, Mr. Weasley."
Arthur goggled, then chattered. "Oh, Merlin, I'm freezing." It was no wonder. His thin second-hand cloak was no match for the unusually chilly October evening.
"Do you want my cloak? Or want to switch?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine. Once we're inside I'll be fine. I just get cold quickly."
"Absolutely positive? I don't mind, honestly."
"Positive," he wanted to say, but the chattering made it turn into "Po-o-o-o-sitive."
"Now you don't be ridiculous. You need this more than I do. I don't get cold easily, it's just that Mother is a worrywart and buys all of us these enormously heavy woolen cloaks with all these heating charms built in and then she makes sure we wear them. So, here you go." She paused by the side of the road and began to the undo her clasps.
Arthur was about to acquiesce and re-bundle when he caught sight of the Twin-Like Terrors merely feet away--but safely behind a pane of glass. Fabian was simply shaking his head; Gideon was making much more violent death gestures. Arthur took one sidelong look at Molly, who really did look rather flushed and overheated, and mentally sighed. Locking his jaw to prevent more chattering, he said,
"You know what? In the time that it takes us to switch, we could just find a store. I'm really fine. Was just a passing thing."
"Oh." For what felt like the umpteeth time, her enthusiam dimmed just the slightest bit. "If you're absolutely positive? It's not entirely selfless, you know..."
"I'm really positive. Really."
"If you're sure..." she shrugged, and redid the top few closures on her cloak. Arthur tried not to stare wistfully.
"So, any preferences?"
Number one...remain in areas where you can be observed, intoned the Gideon in his head, namely Zonko's, the centre tables in the Three Broomsticks, the Post Office, and Honeydukes..."Arthur?"
"Wha...? Oh, sorry. You were saying? Places? How about we stop off at-"
"I know you've been needing a new quill, and I know everyone goes to Schrivenshaft's, but I know this great little place--it's run by this old French wizard who does nothing else but make quills, and he's fascinating and has these great stories-"
"No! I mean, I love Schrivenshaft's. If that's okay with you."
"Oh." She glanced down for a split second but smiled widely nevertheless. "Sure. It's fine by me."
"Okay. Thanks." They walked in silence--Molly smiling widely and waving to some of her friends, Arthur constantly checking the distance between the two of them. They finally arrived at Schrivenshaft's, and Arthur opened the door, relishing the opportunity to hide in an aisle and regain his composure.
Making some excuse, he ducked down an aisle and grabbed the cheapest box of quills he could find. Making his way to the counter, he met up with Molly, who had in her hand a sleek wooden case.
"What's that?"
She grinned widely and snapped it open. Inside was a single, blue-black quill. "It's a Zakian! Isn't it gorgeous?"
You're gorgeous, Arthur wanted to say, but instead he made some non-committal noise.
"I was planning on getting Fabian some sort of fancy quill for his birthday, but then I saw this and I couldn't believe my eyes. It's exactly what he wanted! He said a Zakian and it's a Zakian!"
"Wow."
Molly giggled. "It's okay, not every has a quill-manic for a brother. This particular quill comes from a bird known as the Edward's Pheasant. They're dreadfully rare, and unless they shed a feather, it won't hold ink. So it's really rare, you know, to find one intact. Zakian, this company, specialises in..."
Arthur suddenly realised that he was mere inches away from her. Her voice immediately died away, and all he could process was that she was very pretty and smelled nice. Really nice. Like some sort of flower. Or banana. His eyes almost crossed, and he made a conscious effort to pay attention to what she was saying.
"...crazy! So, ready to pay?"
Immediately, the Molly-induced-haze lifted from his mind, replaced by the mini Gideon saying, Number one, you will pay for everything. "Erm, here, let me pay."
"Oh, no, I couldn't."
"Nonsense, I forced you here. Otherwise you would have gotten a quill from that French man."
"Really. You don't need to."
"I insist," he countered, pulling it from her hand. As he did so, the price tag fell out and he blanched. People pay what for a single quill?
"Are you absolutely positive?"
Arthur looked up to see Molly's shining face, and realised with a start that she considered the quill reasonably priced. "Oh, yes. Quite." Moving towards the counter, he began mentally calculating. If he skimped and borrowed until the end of the year, he could just about make it.
"Will that be all, dear?" the plumpish lady at the counter asked, as she casually counted Arthur's allowance for the rest of the year.
He gulped. "Y-yes, it is." He took the bag with a weak grin and led the way outside.
"Where next?" asked Molly, untroubled.
Arthur felt the stirrings of something oddly like resentment. "I don't care," he said shortly.
Immediately, she stopped. "What's wrong?"
Her concerned tone was, however, the last thing that Arthur wanted to hear. He was about to say something when Gideon-voice decided to interrupt. Number one, you will be a gentleman, mind-Gideon said, mentally smirking. "Oh, nothing. Really."
"Are you sure?"
Arthur took a deep breath. "Positive. Three Broomsticks?"
"Okay!"
Arthur slumped in his seat. As much as he had wanted to do this, it was beginning to be a bit much. Molly, who was pretty much the same bubbly, energetic girl she had always been, was beginning to wear him down. She was excitedly stirring her Chocolate-Infused Triple Caffine Shot Butterbeer Delux (with an Umbrella!), and all he had been able to afford was a small, watery I Can't Believe It's Not Butterbeer! The prospect of no pocket cash for the rest of the year, the fact that she didn't seem to be bothered by spending so much money, the overwhelming suspicion and hatred of the entire Gryffindor house, the idea of having Gideon and Fabian breathing down his neck...it was a bit much. Even for someone like Molly.
He nodded at whatever she was saying, his eyes wandering across the room. Everyone else just seemed to be having a good time. A reasonable time. That is, except for...
The sudden sight of Gideon and Fabian, glaring at him from one of the corner tables, gave Arthur such a fright that he knocked over his drink. "Bollocks! I mean, oops!"
"No, it's okay," Molly said, grabbing a few napkins, "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a Grim."
Might as well have. "Might as well have."
"Sorry?"
Arthur clamped his mouth shut, unaware that he had spoken out loud. "I said...yeah, not really? Nothing, really." All he wanted to do was leave. Now. Unsurprisingly, he'd developed a headache. All he wanted was his nice, warm bed, as opposed to the cold, drafty center table he'd been forced to sit at...
Molly looked concerned. "Arthur..."
He stretched, attempting to casually glance at his watch. It was almost 7:50, if he squinted correctly. "You know, Molly, I think I'm going to have to skip out now, if I want to get my work done."
"Oh. Are you sure? Something wrong?"
There was something in her tone, but Arthur could really care less. "No. Nothing. Everything's fine."
"Really?"
Somehow, she was standing next to him, her hand resting gently on his arm. In that moment, he felt as if could just admit to the nightmare. There was something warm and comforting about her presence that relaxed him thoroughly.
Of course, the next thing he saw was a vein, close to popping, on Gideon's head. Smiling widely, he attempted to move backwards. "One hundred percent. I'm fine!"
"Bullshit."
Arthur, who had been on the verge of falling backwards, sputtered, "W-what?"
Molly slammed down her empty butterbeer bottle. "Enough is enough. This is getting ridiculous."
"What is getting ridiculous?"
Molly gave him a look. "Where are they?"
"Who?"
"My brothers, that's who. Where are they?"
"Behind you...?"
"Thank you," she said, with a return of the Molly smile. It quickly disappeared, to be replaced by a steely look that Arthur recognised. "Just wait."
Arthur watched, speechless, as she stormed off towards Gideon and Fabian's table. Once there, she snatched away their drinks and, in a voice that easily carried throughout the whole restaurant, began what was obviously a deeply-simmering rant. Once Arthur had gotten over the fact that anyone, sister or no, could speak to Giden and Fabian like that, he found himself curious. Luckily, it wasn't hard to listen in.
"...thinking? WERE you thinking? EXPLAIN YOURSELVES, NOW!"
"Moll, look-"
"It's not like that-"
"Oh, really? Then explain what it IS like!"
"We were protecting you!" protested Gideon. That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Molly somehow grew, while her brothers shrank.
"YOU were protecting ME? YOU? How DARE you!"
"What Gid means, of course, is that we wanted to make sure that you weren't...Gid, back me up!"
"If he's got ANY brains, which I highly DOUBT, he would tell you to SHUT UP!"
"Come on, Mols, what's really wrong? Is he being rude?"
"Gid, you stupid prat..." Fabian's comment was justified, seeing as how Molly's fury suddenly intensified.
"IS HE BEING RUDE? NO, HE'S NOT! BECAUSE OF YOU, I'VE BEEN THE WORST DATE IN THE WORLD! I CAN'T BELIEVE...how COULD you...I mean, what did y-you..." And with that, Molly began crying.
Instantly, her brothers were around her, trying to calm her down. She refused to be coddled, however.
Finally, Fabian sat back. "Okay. Okay! Agreed!"
"...w-will you? R-really?"
"Yes. I swear. We'll leave right now--yes, Gid, we will--and we'll find him and...and apologise."
Gideon said something that Arthur pretended not to hear.
"Oh, Gid, stop it. And for heaven's sake, stop glaring like an obvious prat."
"Give it up, Fab, he's listening right now."
Both brothers turned to look at Arthur, who suddenly found something very interesting in his empty mug. When he looked back up, both of them were right by his table. "Hello," he said meekly.
There was an identical sigh from both, and then Fabian spoke up. "Look...we're...okay, we're sorry. For harassing you. And turning the house against you. And spying on you." He glanced back at Molly, who was still at the other table. "And forcing you to act all awkward. And threatening you." There was a pointed cough, and he continued. "And ruining your first Hogsmeade weekend. Good?" he asked.
"I want you to MEAN IT! And that means you, Gideon!" she called back.
Gideon rolled his eyes. "What he said, Weasley. Sorry."
Arthur could barely believe it. He managed a plastered smile and said, "No problem."
"So we're good?" asked Fabian, one arm casually restraining his brother.
"Yeah, we're good," replied Arthur, emboldened.
"We'll be off, then."
"You still bring her back-"
"GIDEON!"
"-before the curfew time," he finished, grinning.
Arthur nodded, still in semi-shock.
Both of them shook his hand and were about to leave when Gideon turned back. "Oi, wait up. Weasley, did I hear her correctly? You paid for a Zakian?"
Arthur grimaced inwardly, but tried not to let it show. "Yeah, I did."
Gideon thwacked Fabian across the forehead. "You dolt," he said.
"No, you're the dolt."
"Well, it was an equal share, I suppose," he said, pulling out his purse.
"What? Oh, no, don't be-" Even though he desperately needed the Galleons that Gideon was casually counting out, he couldn't...not from...
Gideon leant down. "No, you don't be ridiculous. We...uh...don't tell Molly, okay? Fabian sort of...insinuated, um, very heavily, that he wanted a Zakian for his birthday, and he knew the only one for miles around was here, and so..." he made a sort of expressive hand gesture, "You get the picture."
Arthur blinked once, twice. "Wait, let me get this straight. You...you both...set me up?"
Gideon straightened up again, but somehow he didn't look as intimidating. "Well, nice talking to you, Weasley."
"You were testing me?"
"See you around, Arthur!"
Arthur watched them go and shook his head. When the door had closed behind him, he was about to get up and leave when he remembered why he was here. Or, more accurately, whom he was here with.
Molly shyly came back to their table. "Um, do you want to leave?"
Arthur, fingering his now-full purse, smiled. "No, not particularly."
They stayed until almost closing time, and then they were so late that Ogg had begun to close the gates when they arrived. The castle looked empty as they walked through, but neither of them felt any need to hurry.
Arthur, engaged in the conversation, inwardly marvelled at what an amazing time he had had AFG (After Fabian and Gideon). When they, at long last, reached the common room and their respective staircases, he attempted to stall. "But I still think that you can't consider them beings, because they carelessly give up the right to protect their interests."
Molly, her cheeks pink and eyes glowing, fired back, "Centars don't aren't careless. They just realise that our ridiculous institutions, like the Ministry of Magic, aren't worth their two knuts."
"Maybe, but in doing so they lose the ability to influence government laws. The laws they hate."
"Really? And who enforces these laws? The Centaur Liason Office?"
"I...okay, point acknowledged."
Molly simply smiled, stifling a yawn in the process.
"Oh, it's getting late..."
"Yeah, it is."
For a moment neither of them spoke, and then Molly stretched out. Arthur pretended not to notice how the hem of her shirt rode up.
"It's a short shirt, isn't it?"
"I...what?"
She grinned sleepily. "Growing up with two brothers four years older than you are? You pick up on certain things."
Arthur blushed.
"They mean well. I'm sorry about...well, I'm sorry about everything. They can get to be a bit possessive. But they mean well."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," he mumbled.
Molly shrieked with laughter. "If I had a knut for every time my mother said that...well, I'd have a lot of knuts."
"Oh, it's nothing. Thanks, though, for..."
"Yes?"
Arthur didn't quite know how to phrase it, so he shrugged.
Molly smiled. "Well, thanks for the lovely evening."
"Oh, no, don't. Thank you, for putting up with me."
At that, she rolled her eyes. "Quite the contrairy, and don't even try and argue with me there."
"Point taken again."
"So, goodnight, I guess."
"'Night."
Arthur's mind blanked out, and he automatically moved in to give her a hug--at the same moment that she stood on her tip toes to kiss him on the cheek.
Their lips sort of half-met.
They sprung apart as if electrocuted. Both mumbled something, and then ran away to their respective rooms.
Arthur bounded up the stairs, threw open his dorm room, shrugged into a pair of pyjamas, and didn't stop until he was securely under his covers with the screen draw shut. Once he was convinced that no one was coming after him, that he wasn't dreaming, and that he was comfortable, he allowed himself to relax.
He'd gone out on a date. She had liked it. He had survived her brothers. He had just--sort of--kissed Molly Prewett.
Wow.
If we had children, they would all have red hair, he mused, and then stopped. Children?
He burrowed deeper into his covers, a content smile on his face.