"If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton you may as well make it dance." - George Bernard Shaw
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Molly closed her eyes for a brief moment, before standing up. Hopefully no one would notice her absence; her cousins didn't pay much attention to her as it was, so she was quite sure they wouldn't. The door banged shut behind her, and the cool late summer air refreshed her clammy skin.
God, there was so many of them.
Tall, perfect Victoire, athletic Roxie, the duo of jokers, James and Freddie. Brilliant Dominique and baby Lily, beautiful Rose and intelligent Hugo. Charming Louis and little Lucy.
They all had adjectives to describe them. She was just Molly. To them, she was not brilliant or beautiful or charming. Just Molly, and she hated herself for it.
She knew they thought less of her. She could see it in their eyes; they'd talk about Hogwarts and Gryffindor and Transfiguration, and they'd tack on Molly like an afterthought.
"You probably wouldn't understand," one would say with a pitying glance.
How she absolutely loathed pity. They looked at her, and she could almost hear what they were thinking.
Oh, poor Molly. How dreadful it must be, being a Squib!
She could feel the anger coursing through her veins. When her cousins, the horde of them, came back for the summer, it was the worst. During the school year, it was just her and Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur, and after day school she'd come and bake and knit with Grandma, and Grandpa Arthur would tell her magnificent stories.
She hated them for being more important. They came back, and she was pushed aside – look how tall you've grown, Rosie! The only one who would think to say hello would be Dominique. How's Ravenclaw, Louis? Brilliant, innit?
She heard the door clatter again. Hopefully whoever came out – she didn't care enough to turn around – would leave her be. She didn't need to be lectured by her mum on proper conduct or given a sympathetic glance from her father.
Maybe he knew a little bit about being left out, but by the gods, he didn't know as much as her. For all of her seemingly plain qualities, she was a genius on being the odd one out.
There were footsteps behind her, and Molly sped up. No doubt her mum or her dad, possibly one of her grandparents. Wouldn't they be the only ones who knew she was missing?
A hand touched her shoulder lightly. Probably her mother.
"Mum, I'm -"
It wasn't her mother. It was her aunt.
"It's a little crowded in there, isn't it?" said Hermione. Her hair was plaited back and she had a kind smile on her face.
"Yeah," Molly murmured. It wasn't that she didn't like her aunt – her aunt Hermione, actually, probably understood more than the rest of her family – but she was just in a brooding mood. The anger was still coursing through her veins, burning her body, and the urge to kick something was still within her.
"Don't bottle it up," said Hermione quietly. She seemed to hesitate for only the slightest moment before continuing. "Let it out. All that anger inside of you is just going to make you fester and rot."
Molly kicked the ground, dirt staining her runner. Needles of pain shot up her leg, and she scowled once more.
"Why are you out here? Did mum or dad send you out?" Molly was just curious, but the words came out harsher than she intended. Hermione didn't flinch, just shrugged simply and walked side by side with Molly.
"I just needed some air."
There was a calm, intelligent, understanding aura about her, and Molly sighed. All of the anger left her, like a popped balloon, and now she just felt a shattering sense of inexplicable sadness.
They continued to walk side by side for a while, the birds singing in the distance as the sun set on the horizon.
Finally, Hermione stopped, just as they were reaching the woods that bordered the Burrow. She hesitated again, opening her mouth and then closing it, before finally speaking once more.
"I'm not going to say I understand," she said, "but I have some semblance as to what you're going through, Molly. I just want you to know that I am here for you."
The words stopped her and she looked at her aunt, seeing but not comprehending.
"Thank – well, thank you," stuttered Molly. Either she was very transparent, or her aunt was intelligent enough to know what was going on. Probably the latter – no one had suspected anything, she had thought, when she'd stormed away from the Burrow in a huff.
"When I was young," started Hermione, "my mother took me to this bookstore. I was an only child, see, and I was no good at making friends, although that didn't deter me from trying. You know was it was called? The Biggest Bookstore in the Word. It wasn't, of course, but I was young. Floor to ceiling shelves of books upon books. I loved books – still do. Rosie and Hugo, they're both their father's children. Don't read. But I do. Anyway, she'd bring me there, and I'd read for a bit while she'd look around. She'd buy me a book, I'd bring it home, I'd read it. My shelf got bigger and bigger as I grew older, and it still is increasing. Every single one of those books felt like friends. That's how I got through it. Being lonely."
Molly was silent. She wanted to... say something. She understood loneliness. It was the only person she would know in a crowded room. "I was just like the rest of them," she started. The beginning was a good place to start. "I played with Dominique and Victoire. They were like my sisters. But they got those Hogwarts letters and I didn't, and suddenly I wasn't anyone to them. Eleven years of knowing them, Freddie, Roxie, and they pretend like I've dropped off the Earth. My last name is Weasley. And you've probably already figured out the ironic thing about this whole situation. I have," Molly laughed, as if it was funny. It wasn't, and Hermione waited for her niece to continue.
"I'm the second Molly. I'm named after a bloody powerful witch, and I'm a Squib. It's pathetic," said Molly with an edge of hysteria.
"I am a know-it-all," said Hermione. She stated the fact like it was the colour of her hair, something simple and obvious. "I answered every question I could in school. My husband – future husband, back then – drove me to tears quite often. As did Harry. I was alone for so long, I didn't understand how to be around people."
"They don't see me," said Molly. The words kept coming out, flowing naturally. "They don't see Molly Weasley the second. I'm just their Squib cousin. I've accepted that I don't have magic. I just wish... I just wish they'd treat me normally, y'know? I hate the pity and the sympathy. I don't need that! I just need..."
"Family," Hermione whispered quietly. "You need family."
"Family," murmured Molly, and the word felt both like poison and wine in her mouth.
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a/n - Written while listening to Slow it Down by The Lumineers. For the Decisions, Decisions Competition, using the quote at the top, "I just need some air," and hesitate. Word count: 1,241.