During the wars, Molly never thought her and Arthur would live long enough to grow old together. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make, but glad it was never needed. Now, an old woman—a title she wore proudly as to her it meant survivor—she could reflect on the adventures of her life. Her family had grown so large despite all those that had been lost. And few people could recount the innermost whispers of the group that had saved them all.
But now, with her children grown and married, she thought most of the moonlit strolls her and Arthur took at Hogwarts. The whole world was going crazy back then, but at the time it felt as though Arthur was the only thing that mattered. She loved how his mind never stopped tinkering, even if she managed to keep his hands still. She loved him for the things that were important to him—his family, truth, loyalty. They built their life on solid foundations, and she was glad to have gotten to share so many of her days with him.
For years, she gave her identity, her wits, and everything that could be a positive attribute to her family. She was the housewife, the homemaker, the one who made the chaotic home of 7 children function. A full time job with just Fred and George alone. And now, for the first time since she was just Molly Prewett, Gryffindor at Hogwarts, she was just Molly. But plumper, and much more tired.
Arthur was never the most romantic man, brain addled with dissecting muggle devices, but they were married so fast for sake of the war, that there wasn't much time for romance anyway. They had eloped because neither could handle dying without being forever tied to the other. The way he would look at her in those days—as though she were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Their love had not grown dimmer, but had relaxed. They had been settled into each other for so long now, that neither could conceive of any other possibility.
She did miss a time when they didn't award each other participation ribbons like a grand prize. She wanted to be reached for and clung to—twirled around. She wanted to feel like her laugh was the sweetest sound he'd heard since their wedding bells. She wanted to feel like more than a coat rack—durable, standing there until it's needed. She wanted to light up his room and every other cliché thing she'd ever read in her books.
She made the rounds through the house again, but everything had already been scourgified, and put away. Her brain was still used to the messes of her eight children—though Harry had become her child much later than the others. She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw despite his having claimed retirement, Arthur was again at the Ministry. She began to wonder if this mood that had set into her was just a product of too much alone time these days. At least she got to spend time with the grandchildren when they were home from school. Nothing warmed her heart more than hearing the door open and a dozen feet trampling in over her freshly cleaned floors. A smile crossed her face thinking of how Teddy endlessly teased Rose with his changing hair, and the way Albus seemed so much like his father. Her favorite thing was when one of them became a first year at Hogwarts, and they would come home for break and tell her all the amazing details of what was once her home too—but now new with their fresh eyes.
She settled into her favorite chair and mused over her own sorting, and the first time she saw the stairs move. She remembered her friends in the common room gossiping over boys—of sneaking in at four in the morning—of Arthur Weasley, the redheaded boy who swept her off her feet. Before long, she drifted to sleep, lulled by the peacefulness of her thoughts.
When she awoke, the sun was already beginning to settle lower in the sky. Surely, Arthur must be home by now. She glanced at the clock, and sure enough his hand was pointing to home—as was each of her children's. She felt confused and wondered if after all these years, the spell had finally wore off. She walked through the house—rebuilt much smaller with the children having grown. Arthur was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, she heard some noise coming from the back yard. Perhaps the gnomes were getting out of hand again. She had to tell Arthur he really needed to be more stern with them after they were de-gnomed again.
She opened the back door to inspect the damage the creatures had caused, but as soon as the door was cracked, Fleur blocked her path and pushed her back into the house.
"Oh, Molly! We thought we 'ad more time! You cannot come out yet, you will ruin zit!"
As Molly tried to calm herself down from the initial shock of seeing Fleur there so unexpectedly, she tried to process what was being said to her.
"Fleur, dear, I'm too old for games. What is going on? If George is out there testing any more of his new products in my yard, tell him he is not too old for a howler!" Though even as she said it, Molly realized the likelihood that Fleur would be covering for George was minimal at best.
"Try not to worry—but in ze meantime, why don't we do something about your hair." Fleur led her into the bedroom, and, more or less, forced her into a chair. Molly was trying very hard not to revert to her initial impression of Fleur as superficial. She had to think of all the years Fleur had been in the family now, how good she was for Bill, how wonderful of a mother she was….
"Fleur, dear, my hair is fine—no, I don't need any make-up.-It's the end of the day-I really don't think—" Despite Molly's protests, Fleur managed to change her appearance to one very reflective of herself many years ago. Although it seemed rather pointless, Molly had to admit it felt nice to look the way she still felt on the inside.
"When I was married you were zere with me and 'elped me prepare for my wedding. You 'ave been a wonderful mother to me. I only wanted to return the favor." Fleur now had tears welling in her eyes. "Now, come with me. I think it is time," she said with a sweet smile.
Molly had seen a lot of odd things in her life. But now, she was really, very confused. Her curiosity pushing her onward, she followed Fleur to the back to the door. Now waiting just inside the door were all her daughters-Ginny, Hermione, Audrey and Angelina.
"Just one more thing— "And Hermione conjured around Molly a beautiful white wedding dress tailored to her measurements. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together, though Molly still felt quite taken back. The girls opened the door and walked down the make shift wedding aisle. Molly stood quite dumbfounded as she looked at the neatly trimmed yard with rows of white chairs filled with all the people she loved. All her grandchildren, the Neville's, Andromeda, Luna and Rolf, Minerva, oh there were so many. She did not often cry, but she could feel herself being moved to tears. And there at the end of the isle, stood her Arthur with all their boys beside him. Except one as Charlie offered his arm to her to walk her down the aisle.
"I know I'm not the oldest, but the others figured since the only wedding I'd ever be in was with a dragon, that it ought to be me to walk you down." His eyes twinkled and Molly couldn't help but laugh.
She walked arm in arm with Charlie past all her friends and family—all gathered for her. He handed her off to his father—her husband, and for the first time in many years, he looked at her the way he did right before he was caught out of bed at four in the morning back in Hogwarts.
After 50 years of marriage, she was finally getting the wedding she had once dreamed. But now it was made better with the time—like a fine wine. She marveled at Arthur's ability to still surprise her after all these years. Surrounded by the life they had built together, she was excited to dive into the next chapters. Molly Prewett was glad to be a Weasley—and was wealthy beyond compare.