Molly Weasley isn't suited for silence.
In the silence, sitting at her old kitchen table, sipping tea, she feels weighed down by the presence of empty air.
Her bright children have all left her, in ones and twos. And then again, one by one.
So she is left with her ramshackle house, finally too big now, and filled with too many things.
"Mollykins?" she hears, from outside the front door.
Her lips curl upwards as she sets the cup down.
They leave the ramshackle house then, hand in hand. On the clock behind them, all hands now point to "Home."
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A/N: Revised, because it needed it. Sorry if I accidentally made you read it again. All 29 of you.