"Drink up Dear."

Mr. Weasley handed his wife a ceramic mug, filled with a rancid smelling, purple tonic. Turning to give her a bit of privacy, he made his way into the living room and found himself sitting in his favorite overstuffed arm chair. Mrs. Weasley took a long glance at the now bubbling potion. She had had enough of these things. Passion fruit flavor my arse she thought angrily. Furrowing her brows, she pinched her nose shut and knocked her head back, downing the thick substance in one enormous gulp. Finishing it, she habitually gagged almost tossing it all back up.

"How's this one taste Molly? Any better?" she heard her husband, Arthur; call out from the other room.

Regaining her composure, Mrs. Weasley straightened up and returned the mug to the sink where the dish rag immediately began washing the cup clean. "Loads" She replied rolling her eyes. Really, she did feel a bit better. She noticed that as soon as the tonic hit her tongue it gave her sort of a tingly sensation which flowed down to the back of her throat and made its way into her stomach. The hardest part though, was getting her to drink it in the first place.

"I don't see why I have to continue drinking this horrible thing. It's not like I'm getting any better." She said wiping her mouth with the edge of her apron.

"That may be so but it's keeping you alive," he replied with a sigh. "Anything that keeps you alive longer is right in my book." He reached over across the coffee table and brought a stack of tanned colored parchment closer to him. "How about we get done with these ya?" He asked, motioning with his head for her to come his way.

"Yes, alright" she said sitting down beside him. "I suppose I've prolonged these long enough."

She picked up the top sheet of parchment and the quill to begin writing, but once she tried to start she found she couldn't find the right words.

Arthur looked over at his wife. He placed a reassuring hand on her knee and rubbed it gently. "This was your choice dear. If you'd rather we bring the medi-witch back we can get her here by morning to perform the spell on you and…"

"No, Arthur, It's not that." She replied. Letting her anger get the best of her she turned to glare at him with a pointed finger. "And you know very well that I don't want this spell being performed on me by anyone other than my family! It wouldn't be right! How many more time must I explain this to you?"

He put his hands up in mock surrender, not wanting to further her agitation. "Okay Okay, family it is. I was only suggesting."

She immediately regretted her outburst, letting her shoulders relax and her eyes grow softer. Taking in a deep breath, she looked back down at the parchment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No need to apologize dearest." He said once again placing his hand back on her knee and kissing her lightly on her forehead. "All water under the bridge." Arthur had grown used to these sudden outbursts. He first noticed them when she began taking the new potions the medi-witch prescribed, leaving her with sessions of outrageous tempers and snippy remarks. No one was safe from them, particularly new girlfriends the twins would bring around for every Sunday dinner. Fred and George, not realizing the reason behind the outburst, but fully taking advantage of them, started bringing around girls they wanted to end things with, finding it easier to use their "raging loonatic mother" as an appropriate excuse to be done with them.

Moving on, she voiced the nagging question that was on her mind. "How am I supposed to tell my children that I'm sick, Arthur? That I could die in an hours' time if I ever forgot to take my potion..?"

"Hush, don't speak that way,"

"But it's the truth! I'm on the verge of dying every single day because I didn't...because I was so careless…I…"

"Molly you were not careless!" said Arthur, this time making his temper rise. "So you left the door unlocked, so what? It was that man who is to blame for what happened to you, the man who placed that blasted curse on you when your back was turned…bloody coward…He shouldnt have been rumaging and pocketing our things" he replied. He took a deep breath in and then released it.

"Molly all that matter is that you're safe and here now, with me." He said moving his hand to run it down her cheek. "You don't have to write full details in the letter but when they all arrive here you will have to tell them."

"I know," she replied sniffling. Wiping her nose with a nearby handkerchief, she smiled warmly at her husband. "I knew there was a reason I married you all those years ago."

"You sure it wasn't because of my full head of hair?"

"Of course dear, that too," Puffing up with pride he leaned over and began helping Molly, ever careful, to write the invitations.

They spoke quietly, filling in the gaps of silence with the occasional hum and the usual argument on why Hermione's name doesn't have a double E at the end.

"You know Molly, bringing all the kids together, mind you, in the same room, might not be the brightest of ideas," said Arthur running a tired hand behind his neck. "You know how Ron and Hermione can be."

"Hot headed pair, they are," she replied smiling. "I wish they'd learn to finallly settle things for the sake of my grandson."

"Yes, and if looks could kill, dear, we'd have a pile of Fred and George's dead ex girls in the shed out back."

"Yes well, serves them right! Have you seen the length of their skirts?" she scoffed. "And in the middle of a down pour!"

"And what about Harry?" he asked quietly.

"What about him?" She replied shuffling the finished invitations into a neat pile.

"Molly, you wrote him an invite. No one has seen Harry in nearly three years."

"Well do you expect me to not send him an invitation because of this simple fact?" she replied as if he was merely at the farmers market down the road. "Harry Potter is our 7th son, Arthur Weasley, which includes Hermione. Well, a daughter of course. I'm sending it to him not only because he's our son, but because he's a damn strong wizard."

"Right you are but there's no guarantee that he'll even show." He replied standing up making his way to the family owl's bird cage. Opening it up he began tying a rolled up invitation to the owls leg. "And who's to say our dear sweet Ginny won't blast him the second she sees him?"

"She will do no such thing!" Molly replied, standing up to help. "She may be hot as a hippogriff but I will not have this dinner ruined because of past family drama!"

"Okay dear, we'll send it," he replied rubbing her back calmly.

"Sorry…" She replied. Inhaling, she stood beside Arthur and watched as he sent the birds off toward whatever directions they were destined.

"Well, "he started. Taking his place beside his wife he placed a gentle hand behind her back which settled on her waist. "The dinner is set for a week from today. We'll have everyone here and tell them the news. Here goes nothing."

"Yes," she replied. She stood their leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Here goes nothing."