One

"Mum?"

Molly turned to where Ginny stood by the door with Luna and smiled, opening her arms out. "Ginny! Oh, come here – how have you been?" But Ginny didn't move, glancing outside. Immediately, Molly knew something was wrong. Turning off the stove, she rushed over, taking her hands. "Ginny, what's the matter? What's going on?"

"Mum…" Ginny swallowed, a nervous expression taking up her face as her beautiful long hair swept over her face. Molly brought a hand up to tuck it behind her ear, just as she continued to speak. "I'm bisexual."

Molly paused, for a moment. But that was all the time Ginny needed to take it the wrong way and pull out of her grip, stepping back.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry mum-"

"Ginny, it's okay," Molly blinked, surprised about how her daughter would think she would react. "It's completely fine, I promise you." Molly stepped out of the house, where Ginny had backed up…into Luna Lovegood, who looked serene as ever, blonde locks catching sunlight as the violets braided into a crown on her head glowed, a bee dropping into one as she smiled at Molly. "Oh…oh, hello Luna. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank-you Mrs Weasley." Molly looked between Ginny and the girl, who calmly took Ginny's hand – said girl gripping it hard enough to bruise. Molly beamed, before stepping closer, pressing her hands to Luna's cheeks.

"What have I told you about calling me Molly, my girl?" she chided softly, before kissing her forehead. "Would you like to come in for a spot of tea?"

"Do you have raspberry?" She questioned, smiling back. Molly chuckled, looking to Ginny, whose eyes were teary. Molly reached over, hugging her daughter in her usual fashion – bone-crushingly tight, encasing her in warmth. Ginny let out a relieved sob, tucking her gangly frame into her mother's small, hand still gripping Luna's as the girl waited. Once Ginny had calmed, Molly reached over to pull Luna into her grasp too, happy for her girls.

"I think I have some raspberry tea hiding in the pantry, Luna, yes."

Two

"So, uh, you know that I've, uh…I've never had a girlfriend. Or boyfriend," Charlie started, swallowing and playing with his wristwatch. Molly looked to Arthur, vaguely concerned. Their second-oldest had asked them to sit, because he had something to tell them. "When I was in Romania, all my co-workers tried to set me up with people, but it never worked out. Ever. It never ever worked out. They were always looking for connection, or sex," he grimaced at that. "I didn't know what to do most of the time."

"Charlie, what's this about?" Molly questioned gently.

Charlie took a breath, before looking to his lap. "I thought there was something wrong with me."

"No! Nothing's wrong with you, Charlie!" Molly immediately exclaimed, instantly knowing what this was about.

Her son had never formed attachments like her other children. He'd never had crushes, or liked any wix enough to consider anything more than friendship – he was disgusted by even the idea of sex, and had severely disliked it when the mediwitch at St Mungos had given he and his older brother the talk. Charlie, unfortunately, identified this aspect in himself early on, and due to Hogwarts' long terms, Molly and Arthur both had no idea of his troubles until young Nymphadora had written to them about Charlie's frequent breakdowns. Charlie had come home for a few weeks after that, after Molly and Arthur talked to Dumbledore, and the two of them – and Ron and Ginny, too – had worked together to help Charlie accept that part of him, and break down any beliefs he might have had that contradicted that acceptance.

"I know, mum, I know – I just said, I thought, and now I know there isn't!" He put his hands up, before digging around in his pockets, pulling out a piece of muggle paper, with small black writing – a larger header at the top proclaiming that it was an article called, 'My life as an amoeba'. "This- I found it, or I was given it. One of the people the guys set me up with was like me, and picked me out of a line-up of descriptions. They told me all the right terminology, and the differences, and what it's like for others, and-"

"Terminology?" Molly interrupted, "Charlie, do you mean that you're-"

"Normal?" His expression was giddy, and happy, and relieved all in one, "Nearly. There aren't a lot of us, but we're there. We're here. We're a community, we- well, two communities, but they're linked really closely. Aromatic and asexual."

"Asexual?" Molly murmured. "Aromatic?"

"I don't feel sexual or romantic attraction," Charlie explained proudly, shoulders rising up and sitting firm, smile on his face. "And I'm not alone, mum, dad. I'm not weird, or abnormal. I'm- I'm me, and I'm fine on my own."

"You still have to have friends," Molly immediately replied sharply, sending him a Look. Charlie rolled his eyes.

"I know. But you're okay with it?"

Molly leant over the gap between the two sofas, taking her sons hands. "Of course we are, sweetheart – we always have been. And it's so good that you have a better understanding of yourself now."

Charlie stood, coming around to sit between them, letting them both hug him tightly. "Yeah. It is. Thanks."

"You're welcome, dear."

Three

"Girls?" Molly called up the stairs, frowning at the lack of answers. "Girls?" She went up, securing the laundry-basket on her hip as she knocked on Ginny's door. "Girls?" She turned the knob, opening it up. Inside the room, Hermione and Luna sat close together on the floor, Hermione's head in Luna's lap, Luna stroking her hair gently. Molly gasped at the tear-streaks on her face, and the redness around her eyes.

"Hermione, what's the matter, darling?" She came over, shutting the door and kneeling down in front of them as Hermione sat up, rubbing her eyes furiously. "Hermione…" The black girl hiccoughed, before shaking her head.

"It's nothing. Nothing. Nothings wrong-"

"Well clearly there is," Molly interrupted, looking to her daughter's girlfriend instead. "Luna?"

Luna hummed, "It's a very important matter, Mrs Weasley-"

"How many times am I going to ask you to call me Molly before you give in?" Molly interrupted again, this time in exasperation.

Luna's lip curled ever so slightly, informing Molly that the girl was doing it on purpose, before she continued. "It's a very important matter. Hermione is having some identity issues and I was telling her about my own. Do you remember when I told you about it, Mrs Weasley?"

Molly paused, before nodding, remembering Luna's dreamy but shockingly precise description of her gender – about how she liked to float between the two, not minding female pronouns or descriptors rather than neutral terms, which Molly had offered to use afterwards.

On the floor, Hermione sniffed, "I don't know what to do."

"You do whatever feels right, dear," Molly said gently, bringing the wix over into her arms, holding her in a cocoon of care. "I know the muggle world isn't very modern about it all, like we are, but in the wizarding world – the wixen world, we have so many things you can be called instead. Witch, wizard – those are binary terms. Until you figure yourself out, would you like me to ask people to call you a wix instead?"

Hermione sniffled, before nodding silently.

"Okay, there we go," Molly shut her eyes, rocking her slightly as she calmed. "You can be whatever you like. You can be whatever you like…"

Four

"-you're inviting us to your what, now?"

Molly looked over disapprovingly at Ron's tone of voice. He was staring at his friends – Dean and Seamus, who looked both uncomfortable and angry. Molly came over quietly, listening to Ron as he seemingly questioned everything he ever knew.

"You…you're gay for each other? But we shared a dorm! Merlin's balls!"

"Hey!" Molly slapped him over the head with a tea-towel, "Language!"

"Sorry mum, but- but they're gay." He stared at her, and Molly bristled.

"And? There's nothing wrong with that."

"I didn't say there was, but, still…they're gay." He whispered the last word, before Molly hit him again.

"They are right here, and inviting you to-" she glanced at them both, catching sight of the matching silver Celtic bands on their fingers, "-their wedding?"

"Yeah, Mrs Weasley," Seamus muttered, Irish brogue thick and put-out. "But if he's going to be an arsehole about it-"

"I'm not being an arsehole, I'm just surprised!" Ron exclaimed, "I had no bloody idea you were banging."

"Ronald Weasley!"

Five

"Please eat the food. Please eat the food. Potter will never let me look after you ever again, baby cousin, if you do not just eat." Gurgle. Splat. "Dear Merlin, you are horrendous – I just got this as a present from Madam Weasley." The person moaned about getting mushy food out of prime wool, making the toddler giggle and throw more things, by the sound of it.

Molly was very invested in Teddy Lupin's welfare when he was being cared for by a former-Death Eater by the name of Draco Malfoy.

"-and look what you've done now. The Weaselette will have my guts for garters if that stains – you're supposed to wear that to your father's ceremony this evening at the Ministry." Draco fell silent, and Molly wondered if there was something the matter. That tone… "Stupid Potter," he whispered, "Stupid ceremony. But then I wouldn't get to see either of you."

Molly eyes narrowed. 'Both of you'? Who is he talking about?

"I wish he'd just forget everything that happened in Hogwarts, and the War, and just see me. Why didn't he shake my hand? Why didn't we ever become at least friends? Fuck, I love him – at least you're just a baby. You'll never tell anyone." Molly became alarmed upon hearing quiet sniffles, Teddy making the kind of humming noise that indicated he was being held in a furnace-hot grip and would soon be asleep. Coming out from where she stood beside the doorframe, Molly looked in on young Draco, trying to contain the urge to bundle him up in her arms as he cried there in the kitchen.

She was fortunately unable to contain the urge.

Draco made a noise of fear as he arms enveloped him, but quieted down quickly as she continued to hold on tightly, a steady rock in the centre of his maelstrom of emotions. Teddy reacted to her grip by falling asleep as fast as ever – Molly could remember Nymphadora being like that, whenever she slept over during the holidays with Charlie. She sniffed too, at the reminder, back aching at her bent posture. But she didn't move.

Not when Draco needed her.

"You won't tell anyone I…I like him like that?"

"No dear, I swear. But I'll always be here to talk."

"…thank-you."

"You're welcome."

One.

Arthur stared at his wife – his beautiful, understanding, brilliant wife. Molly had always been the steadiest person he'd known, and he would never regret marrying her. She loved him, faults and all – though she said they weren't faults, despite how no normal wix is supposed to physically be both genders. Arthur had been raised that way, and while he was never raising his children like that, he still believed in what his parents had taught him to think of himself.

"You're thinking terrible things again," she muttered grouchily beside him, tugging the sheets away from him. Arthur let her, quite used to the cold after over twenty years of the same treatment. "Stop it. Your magic is making me anxious." Ah. His wife. The ever-sensitive empath – able to detect magic and all it's moods. Arthur remembered her attitude to Sirius. She had hated Grimmauld – hated it's dark, depressing magic, and Sirius' hollow soul, magic screaming out for help. She had been manic, with it all, plus at the time, Voldemort was resurrected. Sirius should have been in an enchanted sleep, magic repairing everything Azkaban had torn down, but he refused to fall into one.

"Arthur," she snapped.

"Sorry, Molliewobbles," he stroked her hair, smiling and pressing a kiss to her head, remembering what Charlie had shown him in all his little leaflets of sexualities and terminologies for gender and rates of attraction. Pansexual. What it had to do with pans, he had no idea, but apparently it applied to Molly. "I love you."

"And I love you, now go to sleep."

Arthur kissed her head again, before shutting his eyes, lying in wait for the next morning when he would watch his wife – his beautiful, understanding, brilliant wife, wake up in the morning sun.