A/N: Things in italics are dreams.
"Molly…"
Arthur's voice was gentle, as it always was. His eyes were pleading with her. "Please, come to bed Mollywobbles. It will feel a little better in the morning. Every morning, it will get a little better." It sounded like a promise, but Molly shook her head. The warm crevice beneath the sheets no longer held solace for her, even when Arthur held her hand.
"Molly?" He removed his glasses, sitting up and waiting for her. "Please?"
She stared back, barely seeing him at all. "I can't sleep," she murmured, at last. "Every night, I worry that I'll forget if I do."
His eyes widened, anguish-filled enough for the both of them. "It's alright, Molly," he said. For the first time, he wasn't sure how to help her. It hurt, knowing he couldn't take away the suffering of his family.
The seconds ticked by, all too audible and jarring. Before, the Burrow had been far too noisy and alive for a clock to be heard. Now it was silent, and it was barely ten at night.
"Here," he reached out his hand, pulling her beside him. "I won't let go of you, alright?"
She nodded, sniffing. It was one thing to grieve, it was another to be afraid of falling asleep. She was beginning to feel stupid, although she knew that wasn't what Arthur wanted.
He held her though, and stroked her hair, and she felt the slightest bit content as she drifted off. It would never all be better, but maybe he was right. Day by day, they could start to live again.
The blank image behind her eyes faded, replaced by colors and by faces. She nodded, almost in recognition. She knew those people.
"Arthur!" Molly shouted, her voice a screech. "Where are they? The children?"
"I don't know," he said, rushing to her. They embraced for a moment, before grasping hands and running into the Great Hall. That's where everyone seemed to be gathering.
"MUM!" It was Ginny, Molly knew instantly. She was the only person who could reach such impressive octaves.
"Oh Arthur," Molly said, turning spinning around and around. "Where is she? Where's our baby?" They gripped each other tightly, searching for their youngest child. She had to be somewhere; she'd called, hadn't she?
"Mum! Dad!" Finally she found them, racing into their arms at breakneck speed. "Mum, Dad, you have to see…." She was sobbing, her brave face contorted and unrecognizable. Molly gaped and felt her own eyes fill, too afraid to hear the rest. She put an arm around her daughter, as Arthur pulled both women against his sides.
"Ginny," he said, kneeling, "Please, speak to me. What do we have to see?"
She hid her face in her father's shirt, her back moving up and down as she cried. "Come on," Arthur said to his wife, unwilling to force Ginny into telling them. "Let's find the others." He spent a moment trying to pick Ginny up, and after realizing she had grown too big, merely placed her feet atop of his so he could carry her that way.
"There's – there's Fred and George," he said shakily, as if counting down.
Wait? Fred and George? Even in her sleep, Molly understood there had been a mistake. But no, it was good, wasn't it? If Fred was alive? She couldn't be sure of anything, except for the terrible fear that clung to her stomach. Whether that was a part of the dream or the reality, she would never know.
"Fred, George!" Arthur called.
The boys turned, running to their parents.
"Thank God," George said, "We were worried that –"
"Something bad happened," Fred finished.
Molly had the violent desire to grab Fred's hand and assure him that nothing bad had happened at all. But her dream self was unsure why, and somewhere in her subconscious she worried that touching him might drive it all away. Reliving the night of the battle – like this, still scary but warped from the true night – was something she didn't want to do, but it was better than having to remember what really happened.
"Let's find the others," Arthur said, grim but sturdy.
Ginny saved them then, by pointing shakily to the corner of the room. Her face was still hidden, and Fred and George reacted with concern.
"Is she okay?" Fred asked.
George touched Ginny's shoulder, but she didn't move.
"Shall we see?" Arthur asked, his voice impossibly quiet.
Molly looked at him, locating a terrible sort of fear in his eyes. He knew, he knew what torn Ginny apart like this, but he didn't know who. She'd never seen that look in his eyes before, and it made her heart pound.
Wait. Hadn't she seen it before? Such a terrible moment, two weeks ago at Hogwarts? When they both had known, known that someone had been taken from them, but weren't sure who. And they hadn't been able to help let the memories flash, showering them with images of all their children. Those images, that would soon be far too tainted to look at with anything but purpose. Still uncertain and unknowing, Molly silently mourned the hours of pouring over photos that would soon be lost to them.
In the dream, Molly's legs were liquid. She mourned no photos, because a part of her knew that it was useless. This time, the terrible expectancy was dry and numbing. Her dream self was nearly lucid now, wondering if perhaps that was because it wasn't real.
"Mum," Percy said. Tears flooded his pale skin, but he went over to take her hand. He looked worse than Ginny even, his unending sorrow mixed with guilt.
Yes, that was all true. So maybe this was how it happened after all? Molly's body trembled, waking her husband.
"Molly?" he whispered, patting her soft cheek. She stayed asleep and Arthur watched her with affection, oblivious to the pain in her dream.
"Who – who is it?" Molly asked him, her face matching his as the tears spilled over. Her vision billowed, allowing other people to come into the picture. Bill and Fleur and Charlie, with Bill between them, arms around both.
Then, Harry and Hermione… Her heart broke, watching the way they clung to each other and… Oh no, that could only mean…
She gave a little scream, spotting the body of Ron on the floor. No… her youngest son… her beautiful boy, who had made her so proud.
She heard Arthur gave a little sob beside her, releasing Ginny and reaching for her instead. She saw Ginny run to Harry and Hermione, the three of them hugging as if they'd never let go. She felt Percy cling to her hand, like he had long ago, before the idea of appearance had entered his mind. Her tears brimmed, ready to bubble over, and then she spotted Fred and George.
Wait. There was a defiant tug to her chest, as she watched them kneel by Ron's side. There was a reason she stood still, not touching her baby yet, there was a reason she wasn't more broken … but she couldn't remember it. What was it?
Then Ron's body began to swim and swirl. It was turning to dust, now unable for her to touch. But then the dust collected, and Bill lay on the ground. Ron was standing by Hermione and Harry.
Now she was screaming. What? Two of her children? NO! She wouldn't believe it. She felt Arthur by her side, even his presence uncomforting. Then he disappeared as well, replacing Bill on the floor. Then Charlie, then Percy, then George… She felt a painful squeeze from the image, as Fred knelt at his twin's side. It was so horrible, and yet… Everything changed one last time.
George and Fred switched places, and she was ashamed to admit that she could only tell for sure because of the ear. George was the one screaming now, and she was quiet, silently falling to the floor along with her tears. Arthur's hand disappeared again, and she wondered where it had went. She began to scream along with her son, her son who now felt so alone.
"Molly, Molly!" Arthur was standing, bending over her with a cold cloth. "Oh Molly," he whispered. There were tears on his face as well, and Molly reached for him, waking up at last.
"Arthur," she whispered. "I'm never going to stop being scared."
"What?" he whispered. He sat beside her, pulling her into the curve of his side.
"They're all dead, every time I close my eyes," Molly said. "And – and I can't wake up, because I know it's not going to change."
He kissed her cheeks and her lips and the top of her head, wishing something so simple would take this pain away from her. She had always worried about her children, and what would happen to them, what was he supposed to say now that one of her worries had realized?
"We'll get better," Arthur said, "And Molly, I heard you screaming my name." His face crumpled a little, imagining life without her by his side. "I'm right here, I promise. I always will be." Molly grabbed his hand, holding it right against her heart. Arthur kept his promises. She remembered her children, flippantly skipping out the door and promising they'd come back again. But no, not all of them had.
"We have to check on George," she said, wiping her tears. Imagining what George must feel forced her into temporary calmness.
"George?" Arthur said, frowning. "He's –" Arthur was going to say 'probably asleep', but realized that this most likely wasn't true. "Alright," he said. He gripped her hand. "He'll be okay too, you know. We'll help him."
Molly's heart swelled, realizing for the millionth time that she had married the perfect man. No one else had so much love to give, she was sure. "I know," she whispered, after a minute. He helped her out of the bed, and together they walked down the hall.
They walked into Fr – into George's room, and found him sitting up in bed. He wasn't crying, although his eyes were red. He gave them an apologetic smile.
"I – I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"Wake us up?" Molly asked, sitting tentatively beside him. He'd barely seen them, in the past two weeks. He'd stayed in his room.
He went red. "I was – I was screaming, I think." He picked at his quilt, avoiding their eyes.
Arthur sat on the bed with a sigh, wishing he could explain that embarrassment was the last thing his son should feel. He followed Molly lead, putting his arm around George and offering any words he could. It wouldn't do anything probably, but it was their duty as his parents.
George smiled at them, a little, and Arthur's heart leapt. He'd thought it might take months for George to smile again.
"What is it, dear?" Molly asked, also noticing his expression. She brushed his sweaty hair, eyes lovingly fixed on his face.
"Nothing," George said, "Stupid, kind of. It's just… I was remembering when I was little, and whenever - ," he inclined his had, to indicate Fred's name, "Or I had nightmares, we'd wake the other up and they'd come help us. And – and I – I woke up from a – dream just now, thinking that no one would be there, but -you came," he swallowed, blinking away more tears. Still though, Arthur suspected there was a mix of sorrow and joy to it.
"Son," Arthur said, rubbing his shoulder. "You're going to be sad for a long time, and you're always going to miss your brother, but you never ever have to feel lonely."
This seemed to crack George, and his parents held him as he cried harder. There was a soft knock at the door, and they turned to see who it was.
Percy stood there awkwardly, shrugging with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I heard… I just thought I would make sure everyone was okay."
"Come sit," Molly whispered, patting the small spot of space next to her.
Percy obeyed, looking almost relieved to be near his mother. She noticed, and let go of George with her right hand so that she could hold onto Percy's. Only a moment passed until the door opened again, this time without a knock of any kind.
Ron stood there, frowning suspiciously. He seemed to relax when he saw his mum and dad, his grimace subsiding with a sigh. Molly noticed Harry then, standing with Ron and looking even more uncomfortable.
Molly smiled, extremely relieved to see Ron, because her dream, and told them to come in. She was forced to recall times when her children had been small. Bill would tell them scary stories sometimes, and they would all end up in their parents' bed that night. She'd missed those sleepless nights, as the children grew older.
George picked his head up, waving tearfully at Ron and Harry. He seemed to have forgotten his earlier embarrassment, perhaps figuring that it was too late to care. Percy gripped his arm, and he turned to his brother with a tiny smile of thanks.
"You alright, then?" Ron asked. He was still standing away from the bed, a little fidgety and nervous. Harry was staring at the wall.
George shrugged. There was no real answer to the question yet, no matter how many times people would ask it.
"Harry dear," Molly said. He turned to look at her, and she waved her hand for him to come beside her. He obeyed slowly, smiling when Percy scooted over to make room.
"Ron," Arthur said, almost warningly. He was smiling too though, and Ron sat at the foot of the bed.
"Well then," George said, after a moment. "Who's left?"
Charlie, Bill and Fleur were all at Shell Cottage, so only –
"Why is everyone in here?" a voice asked.
Ginny appeared in the doorway, pajama clad and red hair tangled. Her faced turned to deep scarlet, when she saw Harry.
"Oh – sorry, I just heard voices and…" she turned, ready to run as far away as possible.
"That's it then," George said, ushering her into the room with wide waves. His tears had stopped completely, and he almost seemed to be enjoying himself.
"No," Ginny said, sitting as far away from Harry as possible. "Hermione."
"Do you think she would be afraid if we just shouted her name?" Ron asked.
"Probably," Ginny said wryly. She had tucked an arm over her head, trying to comb through it as discreetly as possible. Harry still saw though, and smiled at her.
"I'll go and get her, then," Ron said, yawning as he stood up.
"Ron, don't wake her up," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.
"Why not? We're all awake, and she'll probably be frightened if she wakes and doesn't know where anyone is."
"Fine," Ginny consented, sounding exasperated.
"Listen," Arthur said, recognizing his chance. "There's hardly any room left here, so would it be alright if your mother and I go to bed?"
"Sure," everyone chorused, waving them to sleep.
"But Arthur –" Molly sounded afraid.
"Come Molly," he said, grasping her hands. "You need your rest." He helped her out of the room, making sure to say that anyone could always wake them up, if they needed to.
"Ah, more room," George whispered, after they left.
He moved over to the side of the bed, and Harry moved down next to Ginny. She stared pointedly away from him for a few minutes, obviously not ready to talk to him, and then Ron and Hermione came in. She did not look too happy.
"Can someone tell me why Ronald woke me up?" she asked, folding her arms.
"Sorry Hermione, my fault," George said.
She blushed. "Oh, well that's alright, I didn't mean …"
He grinned at her. "Don't worry about it."
He continued to smile too, as the next hour passed them by. Maybe, his parents were right after all. Whatever else was left to be felt and mourned, he never had to be lonely. Well, that was made obvious by the fact that he still had no legroom.
It was nearly five in the morning by the time everyone trickled back to their own rooms. They had been so pleased to see George happy, that they hadn't wanted it to end. But it had to, and so they said goodnight and told him to wake them up if he needed to.
After they left, George stared up at the ceiling. Sure, it would never be the same without Fred, but maybe one day it feel okay again. He gave a little wink to the bed across the room, hoping Fred was watching.
From the other end of the hall, Molly was listening for her children's footsteps. She'd refused to go to sleep, until she was sure that the others were as well.
"Molly," Arthur said, sighing. "They're all alright. You'll wake up in a few hours, and you'll see them."
For once, she smiled. "I know. I just want to be sure."
He kissed her. "I know you do. That's fine by me."
She wrapped her arms around him, loving him more than she could express. "I think I'm ready to go to bed now."
"You are?"
"Yes," she said. Her chin wobbled. "Dreams can't be worse than reality, can they?" she whispered.
He pressed his face against hers, so their noses were touching. "Maybe not right now. But they can never be better, either."
Molly smiled. She knew that too. That was the part she liked.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! : ) I would much appreciate reviews!