Molly Weasley II

Summary: Molly Weasley the second is tired of being told she is a lot like her grandmother in every way. Hogwarts was her place to strike out, to finally be herself and show everyone she wasn't exactly like Nanna Weasley. But in doing the unthinkable, Molly finds herself knee deep in a problem that could bring chaos to the world. Who knew Hufflepuffs had a web of lies so tightly woven, or that the fiesty Molly Weasley would captivate them all.
For darkladyofslytherin's next generation challenge.
Ship: Molly Weasley/OC

Molly POV

"Ah, no need to guess who you are, is there?"

"Oh, thank you. You're too nice. I owe you!"

"This is wonderful. How on Earth do you cook like this?"

"You look just like your grandmother."

It's the last one that kills me. I get this a lot. Every week, without fail, someone compares me to the woman I was named after. I love my grandmother, don't get me wrong, being like her is a million times better than being like my father, but a teenager being compared with someone pushing seventy? You can only take the comparisons as compliments to a point. That point was reached three years ago.

Sometimes I wish I was more like my mother. I think she's disappointed in me and Lucy. In her day, she was a mischief maker, so everyone tells us. She sneaked out of school to go and stock up on Zonko products and alcohol, she covered the crystal balls in Divination in cooking oil she stole from the kitchens so that the crazy professor at the time couldn't pick them up, she had stolen all the Hufflepuff Quidditch team's clothes during the big match one year, and was also the organiser of the vast majority of Ravenclaw parties that every member of the Weasley family were always surprised to learn of. Instead of the kids she wanted to follow in her footsteps, she ended up with Lucy 'The Know-It-All' and me, 'Miss Stickler-For-The-Rules'. I think that's why she's always so lenient with James and Dominique when they come over. Both of them, I am fairly sure, have already had their first hangover and I know for a fact that James has already gone a lot further than kissing with at least two girls, and they're a year younger than me at fifteen.
It's sad, isn't it? I'm sixteen and I've never even had a sip of alcohol, or gone further than kissing with anyone. I'm the only one of my relatives to be put in Hufflepuff. The others are all spread across Gryffindor and Ravenclaw fairly equally. My father is the only one of his siblings to not have a child in the house so often associated with our fiery red hair and freckles. I think he's relieved, in a way, that I'm out of the reach of my more laid-back and care-free cousins and in a house full of kind, loyal people that won't turn me into a reincarnation of my mother.

I'm widely recognised as one of the kinder people of Hufflepuff, and that takes some doing. My parents' full-time jobs meant Lucy and I spent a lot of time with our paternal grandmother at her home, alongside some of our other cousins. Nanna taught us to read and write, to do basic Maths, to understand how the world works. When Aunt Fleur turned up to take Victoire, Louis and Dominique home, and it was just me and my sister left, Nanna taught us to sew and to knit and to cook. Lucy's two failings (besides our mutual inability to play Quidditch, which we get from both of our parents) are hand-eye coordination and a shockingly short attention span for somebody so smart. The number of times she pricked her finger on the end of the needle is impossible to count on the hands of all my family. She would leave something simmering on the stove and forget about it, giving us burnt potatoes or vegetables.
When she was eight, she realised that it was time to give up and whilst me and Nanna slaved over the pots and pans, she'd curl up with a book. These days, I spend my Christmas holidays helping Nanna knit the many jumpers she needs to for presents. I choose the colours and do the ones for the younger kids, under Nanna's watchful eye as she designs those for her children and the eldest of her grandchildren. She's always very careful to do mine first, and hides it away. I've gone looking, but as yet have never been lucky enough to find it.

This year, however, things are going to change. I'm going into my first NEWT year – I somehow managed to get nothing below an 'E' in my OWLs, which I was very happy with, although I think my father was slightly annoyed that I hadn't managed to match or beat the next eldest cousin to me, Victoire – and I am going to change many, many things. I'm going to work harder. In fact, I'm going to work like crazy. Auntie Hermione has hinted that she might be able to put in a good word for me in her Ministry department, and Uncle Bill has said that if I can get nothing less than Es, I will be a shoe-in for a job at Gringotts. If all else fails, I'm sure Uncle George will let me work in one of the shops, although I'm not sure what Dad would say to that – I think he'd pay me to do nothing if that was my only prospect.

I'm also going to ask Victoire to take me Muggle clothes shopping with her one day, and update my wardrobe and maybe get someone other than Nanna to cut my hair. When people say I look like my grandmother, they mean it. I have long, thick, flaming Weasley-red hair that refuses to stay fairly flat for longer than an hour, freckles that cover my cheeks like the plague, glasses without which I am even blinder than Uncle Harry, and the chubbiest cheeks ever imaginable. James used to call me 'Hamster', until one day I lost my temper – well, actually, he called me it twice, I just have a very short fuse – and he ended up as a real hamster. He was grounded for two weeks for name-calling, and I got an apology gift from Auntie Ginny, who sympathised with me. James was not impressed, especially when his father gave him a meal of lettuce, carrots and celery for dinner that night. Uncle Harry had popped round with the gift and told us. Even Dad was suppressing a laugh at that. Anyway, my Muggle clothes are all bought by my grandma – my mum's mum – who lives in a little Welsh village miles away from a decent shopping centre. I'm fairly sure they're from charity shops. They're nice enough, but probably meant for sixty year old women, not teenage girls. My robes are always a little on the big side too – I think the tailor takes one look at my cheeks and expects me to grow into them. I am pleased to say the one trait I do not share with my grandmother is her current size, rather I am short and slim and proud of it.

It's not just my work and wardrobe that I want to change, however. I want to do something. I have no idea what that is going to be, I just want to pull myself away from the association with my grandmother. I want to do one thing that doesn't make me seem like a kind, helpful, if not occasionally short-tempered girl. I want to do something that will make everyone take a step back and reconsider me as my own person, not a reincarnation of someone else. I want to do something major.

Seb's POV

"Will you go and get Jonathan from that tree? He thinks he's a monkey again. That's your fault for reading him that story."

"Can you get Juliana ready for bed? I can't stand to hear another second of her whining."

"Go and tell that old bat that her dinner's ready."

"I wish you'd do something for me for a change."

Do something for her? Ha. Everything I do I do for her. Seb Becker, glorified babysitter and house-elf to the royalty that is Sarah Logan-Becker: too proud of her pure-blood heritage to take my father's name in its entirety. I mean, my father's worse: one hell of a lot worse. At least my mother has a bit about her. She can stand up for herself. My father is nice. That horrific word that no-one uses after the age of six, and no-one should be described as after their ninth birthday. He treats me, his seventeen-year-old son, like I'm my five-year-old brother. He stops me from going out without a coat, even in summer: 'Just in case.' I can't Apparate anywhere, despite having a license for it, without his supervision and consent. Flooing is also deemed slightly dangerous without pre-fire checks. The number of times my mother has hexed him to give us some peace and quiet, or given him potions to give him some personality, is more than my eight-year-old sister can count. He just can't be the slightest bit nasty.

I do wonder what brought them together sometimes, and why the hell I'm still living with them despite being of age. I suppose that answer is simple enough: Juliana and Ariella, my little sister and senile grandmother. Of course, she's not really mad. She puts it on around my mother. After the favourite of her six daughters was killed in the First War, she did lose it for a bit. Then she loved the attention from her children so much that she continued with it. Mother, of course, now finds her attitude intolerable. She's now the eldest of the five remaining siblings, and as such, she got lumbered with the dotty old woman that I confide everything in. My father tries to get her to eat: she throws it in his face. My mother tries to run her a bath: Ariella tries to drown her in it. I go down there and she happily gets up and washes, eats and talks sense. If there were two people in this world I could keep alive forever, she'd be number two.

Number one would be Juliana. Mother had never wanted a girl, and when Jules came along eight years ago she was furious. Having grown up in a female dominated home, with her father dying when she was only six, Mother detested female company. Like Mother, Juliana is extremely needy and whiny. Father smothers her with gifts and affection, which Jules throws back in his face, just like Ariella. She tries for Mother's affection, but all that is focused on the baby of the family, Jonny. Three years younger and an absolute devil of a child, Jonny's 'nightmares' have forced Father out of the marital bed. Jules, therefore, comes to me at night, when she's scared. I hold her closely, and let her cry. I absolutely adore my little sister. If anyone ever laid a finger on her, I would kill them.

As a student, I'm a loner. I have two 'friends', neither of whom I confide in. I only tell my grandmother how I feel and what I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't even tell her. She's particularly adept at Legilimency, and Occlumency of course. When I hit seventeen, she taught me everything. I'd cracked Occlumency by halfway through the Easter break and the Legilimency is almost there too. Of course, I still need to use the incantation. My non-verbal work may be good but this magic is ridiculously advanced.

My two friends, Dana Warrington and Adam Blaisdell, are like lost lambs. They're together, and it's sickening to see them all over each other. They claim they're in love. I don't really know what love is. I never plan on knowing. It's not something that seems particularly interesting. It makes people go soppy and soft, like Father and Mother when they've had a bit to drink. I don't need anyone but myself. I do respect the two, however, for sticking by me over the last six years. I accept that they, for some bizarre reason, actually like me. I wouldn't like me. I'm moody: smiling isn't something I've done properly in a long, long time. I don't talk a great deal. I spend my free time holed up in my dormitory reading book after book about everything I can – spells, people, magical history to name a few. I eat minimally, and I'm pretty inoffensive. I hate Quidditch, standing outside in the freezing cold watching fourteen idiots flying around on broomsticks is not my idea of fun. I enjoy adventure, pushing boundaries. I like to wander through the Forest at night on my own. I love to escape the school building, go and venture into Hogsmeade, find my own space. I don't like people of my own age. I don't really even like people full stop.

This year is my last year. I have no idea what I want to do after I've finished. I'm going to get straight Os in my seven NEWT subjects. I don't want to follow my father and join the Ministry. There's no way I can stay at home. I want to do something challenging. I've accepted that there is nothing to keep me here. My grandmother will have my sister to keep her company. They'll have each other. I want to go and do something secluded and secretive. I don't mind living out in a forest or a jungle. I can cope with fire and water, earth and air. This year for me will just be a necessity, it will mean nothing. There is nothing in the world that can make my life seem better.

A/N: Next chapter will be with my beta on Thursday, so should be up in a week or so :D