Arthur Weasley's Last Christmas
Christmas Day 2036, The Burrow
The light is faint as I open my eyes; it's earlier than I planned on waking up, but that's happening more and more these days. Arthur's still sleeping, but his breath is shallower than it should be. This is a sign the Healers spoke about when they rattled off all the different things to watch out for. I put my hand on Arthur's chest and feel him struggling but he doesn't wake up. I watch him for a few moments and then take my time getting out of bed; these old bones don't respond like they used to and it irritates me that it takes so much effort to do what I used to do without even thinking about it.
After wrapping my dressing gown about I put up my hair in one of those kerchief things that Ginny wears when she cleans and make my way into the kitchen. A quick glance at the Weasley clocks tells me that everybody is in bed except for Rosie and Malcolm, probably up for an early feeding. Thinking of Rosie and her five boys makes me happy, especially as she has definitely taken after me. Since Malcolm's birth a month ago I've been busy going between her and Simon's flat and St. Mungo's with Arthur, and her boys have definitely kept my mind off what the Healer said. After starting the kettle I take a deep breath and begin the preparations. This was certainly much easier when it was just Arthur and me with the children; now that they're parents and even grandparents Christmas has grown so much. At least I only have to start some of the meal, as Lily will be over soon to help. The light begins to grow as the sun starts to rise, and I look at the calendar. One more day with Arthur. The Healers said it could be next week or in six months as it was out of their hands at this point.
The kettle brings me out of my thoughts and I quickly stop its whistling. Arthur needs his sleep. I'll just sit down and do a bit of knitting. After all, Arthur's special food doesn't take long to prepare as it is so bland.
I almost drop my teacup when I sit down in my chair as something pokes me in the back. I pull out the letters that I've tried to hide from Arthur, the letters from the children. I swear in my old age I can't remember a thing. I go to hide the letters in my knitting basket but for some reason I need to look at them again, probably to assure myself that they are all coming. Of course Ron and Hermione will be here, Hermione is over so often that I feel like I should make up a room for her. Charlie and his wife Tinney, George and Angelina, Ginny and Harry…even Percy. With his job all the way over in Japan I worried that he wouldn't be able to come, but he told me that he'd cleared his schedule for the month, the dear. I put the letters in my basket and sort through the others. Bill and Fleur of course, and then it's the "extra Weasleys" as Arthur calls them, Hank and Melody Boyd. At least I didn't have to look at letters from the grandchildren; I made sure their parents informed them. What will I tell the little ones? Especially Artie?
I can feel another crying spell coming on so I do what I've always done, I head into the kitchen to prepare for my family to arrive here at the Burrow. Making sure that all of the dishes are ready at the proper time, the ingredients for treacle tart are at hand, all of those things I've done for years. Decades, even.
I hear Arthur call me from the bedroom so I quickly wipe my hands on my apron that I've thrown over my dressing gown and go see him. He's sitting up in bed and it still shocks me how frail he is these days. He was never a muscular man, but now he looks so thin. I put on a happy smile, kiss him and wish him Happy Christmas. After handing him his glasses the old goat actually pinched me on the bum and called me Mollywobbles. I leave the room quickly; can't let him see me crying.
-ooo-
Now that Arthur's in his chair with his tea and Daily Prophet I can finally get myself ready. Helping Arthur get dressed was like helping a very large infant; he just couldn't manage it by himself. After picking out something presentable I catch myself in the mirror and realize that my time will come soon enough. It has been years and years since my hair was red, everything is gray now and the lines on my face? I look just like my mum. How did I get so old?
Thankfully I don't have much time to worry about that as Lily arrives, as always, to help with the food, but she isn't alone; she's brought Artie. Lily has no idea how much it means to Arthur to have a great-grandson as a namesake, and it isn't much of a stretch to think that there's something to the name. Artie's hair looks like Arthur's did decades ago, red and very fine, and both of them love their Muggle toys. Hard to believe that Artie will be at Hogwarts in only two years. My great-grandson will be at Hogwarts in two years! It seems just the other day that I helped Bill get through to Platform 9 ¾.
Arthur naps most of the time that Lily and I prepare the food, and although I do what I can to be honest Lily does most of it these days. I'd like to think that I had a hand in how successful her restaurant is, but I know I had a bit more than a hand, to be honest.
My happy thoughts are broken by Arthur who calls me from the chair. He's cold, even though the heat is blazing in the house, so I fetch another blanket from the bedroom for him. I can tell that his breathing is labored, he's struggling, but I don't say a word.
It is while I'm with Arthur that everyone begins to arrive and soon the house is full. They all give me knowing looks, and I can see the pain they try to hide, but it is as plain as George's missing ear. They all know this could be their last Christmas with Arthur. I want to tell them to give him some space, and not crowd about, but I know it is useless. As I finish up the some of the last details in the kitchen I glance over to see all the kids around him; grandchildren and great-grandchildren as well. I have to suppress a laugh as I see Mione and Scorpius Malfoy walk in bearing gifts. If someone would have told me years ago that my family would be related to the Malfoys, even distantly, I would have checked to see if that person had been confunded. Hugo married Professor Boyd's oldest daughter, and Mione is Gin's sister. Not to mention that Lily married Hank and Melody's boy. All that work on family trees ages ago with the Professor; who knew it would have ended up like this? All of them are focused on one person; Arthur. He smiles, coughs, and talks excitedly with them and that worries me. How much can his old heart take?
-ooo-
It is finally quiet in The Burrow. Everyone has gone, promised to visit soon or at least send an owl. During the day each of the kids found time to talk to me alone, to find out how Arthur is really doing. I did well until I talked to Ginny and Hermione, and that was when I broke down. I had promised myself that I would be strong, that it was Christmas, that everything was going to be a good, happy time, but when Hermione asked me how he really was, and when Ginny put her hand on my arm I couldn't hold it in any longer. It took a while but I finally managed to hold it all together until I found Arthur and Artie on the sofa, Artie helping Arthur put together the pieces of the Muggle aeroplane model that was one of Artie's presents from Father Christmas. Arthur's hands were shaking horribly, and Artie helped him steady the pieces. After a few moments Artie came over, hugged me tightly and told me he didn't want Grandpa Arthur to die.
Now they are all gone. Arthur is sleeping in his chair, the house is spotless thanks to the kids and I have nothing to do. There are no dishes to clean, all of the jumpers have been knitted and given as gifts, no letters to write. The wireless plays softly in the background as I decide that it's finally time for bed.
Arthur wakes easily as I help him into the bedroom and put on his nightclothes. He's in a good mood, talkative, different than this morning. After settling him into bed I put on my nightclothes and slide in beside him; he's so frail and cold. I'm very tired, but Arthur isn't. He wants to talk about the children, how he's proud of them, and rightly so. We have so much to be proud of. They're all doing so well, more successful than we could have ever imagined. When he looks at me and tells me that we did well I don't know if he means to talk as if it was in the past; usually our conversations about the children are about the future, but he's looking backward.
My breath stops when he calls me Mollywobbles and asks if he's been a good husband. He apologizes for things that happened years ago that I'd quite forgotten, apologizes for things that I never expected to happen. I tell him he's been the best husband, the best partner, the best friend that any woman could ever ask for.
Suddenly he stops and gets a far-away look and sighs. He knows he can't change the past but he would give anything if Fred could have been at the house today. I take his hand and put my head on his shoulder, as I missed Fred as well. I always will. I feel his hand leave mine and touch my face, a finger tracing my old lips. Since he's been weak I know what that means, so I lean over and kiss him.
The deepness of his kiss surprises me, and when it ends I look for a long time in his eyes. I know.
I hold him all through the night, never sleeping. As the sun comes up on Boxing Day I feel his chest heave, rattle, then still.