Summary: Molly's whole life has always been about her family. The only exception is the one-day a year when everything is about her.
Disclaimer: I own no recognizable content.
One Day a Year
The house does not rest upon the ground, but upon a woman
~Mexican Proverb
For years, from the crack of dawn until she dragged her exhausted body up to bed late at night, Molly Weasley's life revolved around her family. She cooked for them, cleaned up after them, helped resolve their interpersonal problems, and, despite their pittance of a family fortune, ensured each of her seven children were adequately clothed and in good health and spirits.
She'd been raised in a time when the role of the woman was to be in the home and attend to her family. That had always been her plan. She didn't even waiver from her path when other women of her generation began leaving the household, entering male dominated (and potentially dangerous) fields like in the auror department, and agitating for a larger standing in wizarding society. Molly was a housewitch, despite her magical talents, which most certainly would have guaranteed her choice of careers.
She had chosen her family, and every day of the year, she worked hard at her job as Arthur Weasley worked at his. She doted on her family and went to bed, absolutely exhausted, but pleased at her day's work.
And for all her hard work, she only wanted one thing. One day. One out of the 365 that were otherwise dedicated to Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. On that day, Molly was the one doted upon. On that one day, Molly went to bed pleased, but just a little less tired. That was all she wanted. Her day. Mother's Day.
About a week before Mother's Day, Molly sat at her empty kitchen table in her quiet house. It had been about three years since her youngest children, Ron and Ginny, had moved out, and still Molly hadn't quite gotten used to the oppressive silence. Luckily, her house would soon enough be filled with din and clatter and the sounds of her ever-expanding family.
Her children would descend upon the Burrow, some with children of their own in tow. They would pamper and wait upon Molly. She would get to experience her family without also having to experience the mountain of work that came with the large Weasley clan.
As Molly sat at the table, enjoying her daydream and her hot cup of tea, an owl landed on the windowsill. She immediately recognized it as Charlie's owl. Most of the Weasley family did not own their own owl, but because Charlie was so far from his family and almost solely reliant on owl post. He felt it was a good investment, especially since the public owl postal service from Romania was unreliable at the best of times.
Wondering what it was that Charlie was sending her (he would be home in only a few days and could easily tell her then), Molly quickly scrambled up from the table. She opened the window and the regal, if tired, owl gingerly hoped inside. It quickly turned to the water and food Molly always kept for the post owl, extending its leg and the letter there attached, while it rapidly consumed the refreshments.
Dear Mum,
I hope you and Dad are well. Britain can be so wet sometimes that I worry about your health. Dampness is very conducive to illness. We just had a rather harsh storm pass through here only a few days ago and several of the dragons have come down with something.
That leads me into why I am writing. None of the dragons are seriously ill and are expected to make a full recovery. However, much like humans, ill dragons are even more temperamental than normal and work therefore requires all hands. Unfortunately, I will be unable to come home for Mother's Day. I promise, as soon as the dragons are in better health and my services are no longer needed, I will visit you and Dad.
Send my love and regrets to the others!
Charlie
Molly sighed, though she wasn't exactly surprised. Charlie's work with dragons was tumultuous and often meant he had to miss out on things. The distance and travel also didn't help; where others could duck out for a few hours, Charlie would need several days to make the whole trip. It was too bad that Charlie wouldn't be able to make it, but Molly's five other children would still provide her with the noise she missed and the pampering she desired.
By the Friday before Mother's Day, Molly was about ready to collapse into a sobbing heap. Every single one of her children had written to her to inform her that, unfortunately and for various reasons, they would be unable to attend Mother's Day at the Burrow.
First, it had been Charlie and his sick dragons. Then Percy had been swamped by paperwork that he needed to finish immediately in order to stay in the good books of his employer, the undersecretary to the Minister. George had some sort of emergency at the shop involving some rouge fireworks and his storeroom; Molly wasn't sure of the exact facts. All she knew was that it had forced George to either spend the weekend creating new inventory or have him close his shop, one of the busiest on Diagon Alley for several days. Ron had offered to help George, hoping that the two of them would be able to get through everything in time to attend some of the festivities. He had reasoned that missing both of them for a part of Mother's Day was better than not having George at all. Bill had promised to visit the following weekend, but Fleur was insisting that they spend Mother's Day in France with her family that year. Finally, Ginny's Quidditch schedule had been rearranged at the last minute and she couldn't get out of it and still remain on the team.
No one could come. Not a one.
Her day of pampering and relaxing in the company of her family was gone. All of her children had said they'd try to reschedule, but she wasn't holding her breath. They'd already bailed once; there was no guarantee they'd be able to figure a time where they would all be free before Christmas.
All of it sent Molly into a slight depression. She had slaved for her family for years and all she asked in return was this one day. And yet, this year, her children seemed like they could care less about her day. Sure, they had busy complicated lives, but Molly couldn't see why they couldn't put them aside for one day. For her.
Arthur tried to cheer her up, said he'd treat her like a queen all weekend. She wouldn't have to cook or clean because he would take her to her favourite restaurant for brunch and cook all the other meals. Then he would insist she put her feet up with a warm cup of tea and the wireless on whatever program she wanted while Arthur took care of whatever chores needed to be done. Molly knew he meant well, and she really appreciated all the effort he was willing to go to for her, but it still wouldn't be the same.
Not without her kids.
However, despite her reluctance, on the morning of Mother's Day, Molly allowed Arthur to take her to her favourite restaurant for brunch. Maybe, if she tried a little, she could end up salvaging the day and enjoying herself.
"I may not be as loud and energetic as the kids," Arthur was commenting as they walked through the busy city street. They'd apparated quite a distance away from their destination so as to not draw attention; the streets near the restaurant were far too populated to apparate anywhere near it.
"But I still think I can surprise you. I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve. I can make it like the kids never cancelled on us!" Arthur spoke with a strange sparkle in his eye that put Molly on alert. He was up to something, and that could sometimes go horribly wrong.
"Well, hopefully all of the kids will be able to come over sometime in the next few weeks and we can all celebrate then," Molly responded, her voice not as hopeful as the words she spoke.
By the time the pair arrived at the restaurant, Molly was valiantly trying to remain upbeat but loosing the battle. She still couldn't help but think about the large gaping hole that was her children's absence. In fact, she seemed to be missing them so much that, as she stood at the front of the restaurant waiting to be seated, she began hallucinating their voices. She could swear that she heard Bill's booming baritone. And that was Ginny's cheerful trill. And that was definitely George's jovial timber.
Molly turned to Arthur who had an impish grin on her face.
"Surprise," he stated. With that, Molly knew she wasn't hallucinating. She hurried further into the eatery and found all of her children, even Charlie, and their families seated around a large table in the middle of place. They were making quite the clatter and Molly couldn't be any happier.
They did care!
"Happy Mother's Day, Mum!" the group cheered once the saw Molly. She eagerly took her seat at the table, ready for her day, finally, to begin.