Dedicated to Louise, Mad, Rachel, Sid, and Bunny. Happy holidays to you :)
Lysander had always been little in Molly's eyes. She could swear he never truly grew too much, from his birth sixteen years ago, to that day, his birthday. For as long as she could remember, he was a little boy swaddled in dusted blue. But today, he was a young man clad in black and a deep golden hue.
Dressed in a light pink lehenga that delicately off her thin hips, Molly sat waiting on a quite uncomfortable chair while the girls flirted with him. If her age had not set her apart, then her clothes would have. All the girls were under 18 and wearing pretty cocktail dresses in different shades of blue. At 32 years old, Molly found herself wondering why she was at the party of a child. One of the girls looked at her and giggled, but Molly didn't blush or look away. She stared at her with a smug look on her face. Yes, she was Indian, and yes, she was older, but dammit, Lysander was her friend and she was going stay for him.
Standing up abruptly, Molly brushed passed the throng of girls and went right up to Lysander. He glanced at her with an odd look, then smiled at her.
"Hey, Molls, what's up?"
Molly smiled back briefly, and then did what she knew would silence all the whining little girls. She placed a very chaste kiss on Lysander's lips, and for a moment, time stopped. Pulling away before she could be enveloped by the warm feeling that spread through her body, Molly brought the smile back to her face.
Gasping was heard, although she supposed it was a delayed reaction. Lysander looked at her with his dusted blue eyes, a dreamy trance overcoming his face, and then Molly disappeared into the crowd.
For the remainder of the evening, Molly stayed inside of Lysander's bedroom, just staring at the wall. Not wanting to be harassed by the crowds had brought out the isolated side of her, but she was not sad. She was simply waiting for the party to be over with, and for Lysander to come with her.
Indeed, he did come to her. The bowtie he had been wearing was missing, and he had lipstick stains all over his cheeks, but Lysander couldn't take his eyes off of Molly, and she appeared to be the only thing on his mind. He coughed to grab her attention as he slid the door closed behind him.
"Hey," he whispered, giving her a smile.
"Hey yourself," she replied, throwing one back.
For a while, they simply looked at one another, neither willing to look away, and both unwilling to speak. It was Lysander who broke their dance.
"Why did you do it?"
Molly blinked, almost taken aback at the very blatant question. "I didn't like the way those girls were looking at you."
It took him a moment, but Lysander soon laughed. "Molls, I'm half your age. You shouldn't be worrying about girls who are my age. You know I'm always going to love you more than anyone else in the world." Oh, so it was back this then.
"Ly-"
"Don't 'Ly', me Molls. Somewhere deep down in your heart, you know I'm not joking."
Nodding, but not really understanding, Molly stood up from his bed. "But as you said, you're half my age. Even if I did love you back, it could never work."
"We could make it work, you know."
She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but when he got down on one knee, she couldn't speak a word.
"Molly Lilavata Weasley, I know we have our differences, but I love you with all my heart, and I must ask this:
"Will you marry me?"
Speechless and horrified, Molly started shaking her head vigorously. "No," she uttered once. "No, no, no, no, no, no!"
However, Lysander didn't look in the least bit shocked. "I know you would say that, but I also want you to know that no matter how long it takes, I will wait for you to say yes."
To avoid the awkwardness that would follow, Molly apparated back to her flat where her husband waited for her return. In all her years, she never forgot what Lysander said.