A Mother's Emptiness [395 words; Molly Weasley]
Another piece that's over a drabble but I swear it seemed longer when I was writing this. Post-7th Book, meaning after the fall of Voldemort. Enjoy!
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Molly Weasley went through the entire house, peeked into every room. Each was tidy, clean and empty. There were no signs of them being lived in at all, excluding her and Arthur's. There was an odd silence that seemed to rattle the mother of seven; no she was not going to subtract the number by the death of her son Fred. No.
There were no lone-man socks about or somebody's cast off shoe. The house was clean. Molly peered out the kitchen window- no children in the gardens only a few gnomes waddling around. Arthur was at work- the newly reestablished Ministry under Kingsley Shacklebelt. Bill was still working at Gringotts, Charlie was back at Romania with his dragons, Percy also at the Ministry, George and Ron were managing Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes-she forced the creeping sadness that Fred would not be around anymore away- and Ginny was offered and accepted a position on the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch Team.
Molly fell into an armchair, feeling empty. All of her children grown up and out of the house. There was nobody that couldn't handle to take care of themselves, to take care of! And it was only her in this big, crooked house. Only her in this empty house during the days, even the sunny days of summer like today. With the house, the chickens feed and their coop swept, there was nothing for her to do.
Her hands fidgeted and Molly chewed on her lower lip. It was so odd. Especially now, in the summer, to be done with everything. There was no one needing to be fed, no one who needed their dirty clothes laundered, and not a single one of her children to be hugged, to be scolded or to be told to do a chore.
There was nothing, no one else in this house with her. She could hear the ticking of her special clock. Molly looked at it; every single hand, except hers, told her that everyone was at work.
Molly looked about herself, flicked her wand at her knitting basket so it came zooming into her lap and set her wand aside to take up the needles.
It was never too early to start on those Christmas sweaters; one each for Arthur, Bill and his wife Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, Fr-er-Ron, Ginny and of course, one for Harry and Hermione…..
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