Arts and Crafts, task 11: Write about someone forgetful.
A big fuck you to Sam for giving me this plot bunny
Word Count: 1078
It's so subtle at first that Molly doesn't even realize something is wrong.
Arthur pauses in front of the latest Muggle doodad he's found–a toplap computer, whatever that is. His eyes widen, and he leans in a little closer. It isn't anything out of the ordinary; Arthur always seems to find such great wonder and amazement in the strangest things. By now, Molly is used to it. It's just one of her husband's quirks.
She watches, smiling as she waves her wand to move the skillet onto the stove. Once, she had hated Arthur's fascination with Muggle things, but she's really come to appreciate it over time.
"Molly, dear," he says, sitting at the table and opening the toplap, "what is this?"
"A toplap computer," she answers with a shrug.
She doesn't think anything of it. Arthur always brings in so many Muggle gadgets that it's hard to keep up.
Instead of jogging his memory, however, the answer only seems to confuse Arthur further. He leans closer until his bright eyes nearly touch the screen. "What does it do?"
Molly frowns. "I'm not sure," she says. "You explained it to me, but Muggle things are all the same."
Her husband looks at her, lips pursing in thought. He reaches up, pushing a hand through his white-streaked hair. "Did I?" He looks upset for just a flicker of a moment, but it passes and he offers her a broad, toothy grin. "It seems that I've forgotten."
It's easy to dismiss. Molly laughs softly before returning her attention to the task at hand. As she cracks eggs and fries them on the skillet, she pushes everything out of her mind completely.
…
A week later, she wakes in the middle of the night, and he isn't beside her. His side of the bed is cold. Molly sits up quickly and looks around the room, but Arthur isn't there.
She reminds herself that he's a grown man. He can find his way back to bed. Still, something twists her insides, and she can't help but worry. With a sigh, she climbs out of bed, pulling her slippers on before starting downstairs.
Arthur stands in the kitchen. The flame flickers in the burner of the stove. Molly quickly draws her wand and extinguishes the fire. The sudden disappearance of warmth and light seems to snap Arthur out of his daze. He looks up at Molly, smiling softly. "Is it time for breakfast, dear?"
"Breakfast? Is that why you're down here?" She wants to laugh, but something just feels wrong about this.
"Is it?" He looks around, blinking slowly.
"Come back to bed, Arthur," she says, reaching out and gripping his arm gently.
He moves so quickly that it startles Molly. "I'm fine!" he snaps. "I'm fine! I was just… just…"
The thought seems to leave him. His freckled face scrunches together, twisting into a mask of frustration. "What was I doing down here, dear?"
Molly doesn't know how to answer. All she can do is lead her husband back upstairs and lock their bedroom door behind them.
…
"I don't know what to do," Molly confesses with a defeated sigh. "It's like he isn't really there."
Andromeda sips her tea, watching as Teddy shows Arthur some new gadget he got for Christmas. Teddy may not be their grandchild by blood, but he shares Arthur's love for Muggle technology, and the two have grown close over the last fifteen years.
"He seems okay," Andromeda says.
Molly stirs her tea, though she's long since added the sugar and milk. It's just a way to keep busy, to stave off the helplessness that has attached itself to her. How can she explain that today is a good day? This is one of the rare days where she can actually recognize her husband, and it should make things better, but it only hurts more.
"Who's Bilius, Mr. Arthur?" Teddy asks.
Arthur just laughs. "Don't be silly, Bilius," he insists. "Remember that time Auntie Muriel couldn't find her favorite necklace?"
"Mr. Arthur, I'm just–"
"And you hid it in her gravy! Dad nearly broke his tooth biting into the ruby."
"Has he forgotten who Teddy is?" Andromeda asks. "Is this some sort of game?"
Molly smiles sadly, turning her attention back to her old friend. She shakes her head. "This is the new normal," she explains. "One moment, he's fine, and the next…"
She doesn't even realize she's crying until the teardrops fall and splash against the table. She wipes her eyes quickly. "I don't know what to do."
…
The Healers don't have a name for it. They just look at Molly with sad eyes and pitying smiles as they deliver the news.
This is something more than just your average run-of-the-mill senility that comes with age. Arthur's mind is slowly slipping away.
"There must be something you can do for him," Molly says, pushing a hand through her frizzy curls. "Can't you give him a potion or something?"
The Healer doesn't even have to speak; Molly can easily guess the answer. "The good news is that it isn't fatal," he tells her. "It will impact his quality of life, but–"
Molly stops listening. This illness won't kill Arthur, but that's hardly a comfort when it transforms him into a man she barely recognizes.
…
"What do you mean Fred is dead?" Arthur asks, brows raised in confusion. He gestures at George. "He's standing right there!"
Molly blinks rapidly, trying not to cry.
…
"What's wrong with Dad?" Percy asks as he helps Molly put away the dishes after Easter dinner.
The rest of her children stop what they're doing and look up at her. Molly takes a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her yellow apron. She peers out into the living room where Arthur sits, telling stories to the grandchildren.
"We don't really know," she answers, unable to keep her eyes off her husband. "But there are days where he isn't himself anymore."
…
"What's this?" Arthur asks, holding up rubber duck and grinning at it.
Molly can almost convince herself that it's just Arthur, that he's back to being his curious self, but she knows it's a lie. Arthur had spent well over a year trying to understand the silly Muggle bath toy. His curiosity for it is long gone.
This is just another thing that he's forgotten, and all Molly can do is wrap her arms around him and hold him close.