"Isn't he the most adorable baby you've ever seen?" Molly smiled fondly.
"He's very sweet," her mother confirmed. "Yes, we're talking about you, little man" she cooed. "You know, he always has this look in his eyes, like he's trying to find the deeper meaning of everything."
Molly looked at William again. He was studying his toys with a look of intense concentration on his face. She could see why her mother would say that.
"Is he sleeping through the night already?"
She hesitated only the slightest bit before she answered, but of course this hesitation didn't go unnoticed by her mother.
"He's not still sleeping with you two, is he?"
She read the response on her daughter's face. "Molly! You know it's not good for him. He needs to have a space that is totally his, somewhere where he can explore the world on his own but that still feels safe… "
"I know that," Molly replied irritated. "He's our son, you'd think we'd know how to raise him."
"Yet he's still sleeping with you." It was a statement, not a question, and it felt like an accusation.
Molly mouth became a thin line. "He'll move to his own room soon."
"When?"
"Whenever we feel it's time."
"To be honest, I think you two would benefit from it as well. You look dead tired."
Molly closed her eyes in exasperation. She was sure her mother meant well, but she felt like she was being corrected on every single thing she did. She opened her eyes again.
"I appreciate your concern, but could you perhaps let us handle things our way?" she managed. "I'm sure you know what I mean. Or did Grandma approve of every parenting choice you made?"
There was a moment of silence and her mother huffed. "Right, I see what you mean. But I was just trying to be helpful."
"I know you were."
"Should you ever need advise…"
"I'll know where to find you," Molly smiled. "Let's talk about something else, okay?"
"Alright," her mother nodded. "So, how are things at St Mungo's?"
Molly tensed. It wasn't really a good topic to talk about either, but she could not tell her mother that.
"There's a long-term spot open at the Maternity Ward, and I'm thinking about applying for it," she eventually said.
"You do? But I always thought you liked working where you are now!"
"I did, I mean, I do… But I quite liked my internship at the Maternity Ward, plus I'll have a lot of influence on my schedule, something I don't really have at Artefacts Accidents. Arthur is working irregular shifts and overtime a lot lately at the Ministry and that'll only get worse as the war continues. Do you know how many Muggle artefacts are befouled with dark magic these days? And well, amidst it all, someone has to look after William, right?"
Her mother nodded. "Yes, that makes sense. When will you hear if you're accepted or not?"
"Soon, I hope. The sooner the better."
It was not entirely true of course. The real reason of why she was applying for the job was something she had not even shared with Arthur.
Her thoughts flashed back to a week earlier.
"Molly, can you hand me the Essence of Dittany?"
The witch Nicola was treating was severely Splinched and Molly rushed forward to provide her the necessary means.
"Here you are."
There was loud bang and everyone in the ward looked up.
"What's that?" Nicola frowned, but before she had a chance to finish her sentence, the doors to the ward burst open and a group of nine people entered, one of them covered in festering boils.
"You!" another one of them yelled. "You are going to help him, right now."
"You'll have to wait, just like everyone else," Nicola said. "I have a patient here who also needs my attention."
"I said right now," he repeated. "Or would you rather we summon the Dark Lord?"
Molly's hand went to her apron, ready to grab her wand, and across the room, she saw David and Melchior do the same thing. Nicola placed a hand on her arm and shook her head. "We're outnumbered two to one," she whispered. "And you have a kid. It's not worth it."
She straightened her back. "Put him on a stretcher," she said, trying to lace her voice with authority. "We'll see what we can do."
The men spread across the ward, aiming their wands at anyone who was able to stand on his own two feet and could therefore pose a treat.
Molly could tell Nicola was scared, but she did her best not to show it. His wounds didn't come from an artefact accident, but they were inflicted by spells. Although that wasn't Nicola's area of expertise, she was Head Healer for a reason, and she did know a thing or two about spell damages. She carefully began treating the boils. The man screamed whenever her hands made contact with his skin and the wizard closest to David threateningly took a step forward.
"We said that you needed to heal him, not make it worse.
"I'm trying," Nicola said. "But his injuries are severer than I thought at first glance."
"So? What does that mean?"
"I can't do this without Blister Pacifier. And he might need a good dose of Sleeping Draught to get him through the night."
You-Know-Who's followers conferred silently with one another.
"Fine. Where can we find it?" the one who appeared to be their leader said.
"The Blister Pacifier should be in the north-cabinet, but the Sleeping Draught is kept separately, on another floor. Only Healers can access that cabinet, so one of my colleagues will have to go and fetch it."
He glared at her. "Do you think we're stupid? Let one of you go so they can alert others?"
He took out his wand and aimed it at Nicola. "No, lass, that's not going to happen."
He was interrupted when a cart filled with medical supplies took flight and crashed into a nearby cabinet. All the supplies on the cart and the flasks of ointments on the shelves of the cabinet fell to the ground, with deafening clatter. The man closest to Melchior immediately turned around. "You'll pay for that," he growled as he flicked his wand and a green jet hit Melchior square in the chest. Melchior fell to the ground, dead, a look of defiance forever etched onto his face.
"Molly? Molly!"
With a jolt, Molly was jerked back into the here and now by the concerned voice of her mother.
"Is everything alright?" she asked worriedly.
Molly shook her head to clear it of the bad memory and managed a faint smile. "It will be. It's just fatigue, I think."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. "Yes, no need to worry."
Her mother shot her another worried look, but decided to drop the subject, for which Molly was grateful.
"Look, I'm really tired," she said. "I'm sorry, but…"
"I understand," her mother replied. "I'll leave you to it then. But if there's ever anything I can do for you…"
"I know where to find you," Molly said for the second time that afternoon.
Her mother hoisted William in the air and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Be nice to your Mum, little man, she needs a bit of rest right now."
Molly felt tears appear in her eyes at her mother's words, and quickly wiped them away. She wouldn't let her mother see her cry.
They hugged each other goodbye. Right before she left, her mother said: "You know you can always Floo me if you need someone to look after William for a bit, don't you? Or if there's anything else I can help out with, for that matter."
"I know, thank you."
When her mother had left, Molly fell back into the cushions. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. That's how Arthur found her half an hour later, and naturally, he was concerned.
"Molly! What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "It's nothing. Mum said William ought to be sleeping in his own room."
"That can't be the reason why you're so upset. Come on, Molly. You've been having nightmares for a week. It can't be from something your mother said this afternoon. What is it? Something at work?"
Hesitatingly, she nodded.
"Well, tell me what's wrong." He looked at her expectantly.
"I… I can't," she whispered. "They'll kill you."
"Kill me? Molly, what in Godric's name is going on?" he was starting to panic now.
"You know I can't tell you," she said miserably. "I said so before."
"Can you write it down? I'm your husband, if something is upsetting you, I should know."
She thought about this for a moment. "I'll write it down," she said reluctantly. "But only if you promise me not to act on it and that you'll burn it straight after reading."
"Molly, what…"
"Promise me."
"I promise."
She conjured a piece of parchment and hastily started to scribble.
While she was writing, the memories flashed back again.
Melchior's action had alerted Healers in other departments, for they could hear hurried footsteps heading their way.
The leader of the group aimed his wand at Nicola and she fell to the floor as well, not dead but fatally injured. "That's for not following our orders," he hissed.
Nicola was gasping for air, but her face was turned a nasty shade of blue.
"If anyone speaks a word of what they've seen, we'll hunt you down. We'll make you watch as we torture and kill your spouses, your parents, your sons and daughters… You'll beg for death when we're through with you," the leader promised right before he and the other followers of You-Know-Who's disappeared in a whirl of black smoke.
The Healers from the other departments only ever found the bodies of Melchior and Nicola, and the distraught Molly and David.
Arthur looked at her. Disbelief and shock were written all over his face. "Molly, that''s terrible!"
"Burn it," she said, her voice shaking.
With a flick of his wand, Arthur complied. He wrapped his arms around his wife. "You should have told me."
"You know why I didn't, right?"
"I do. Oh Molly, to think that you had to go through all of this on your own for the past week… I'll…"
"No, you won't. You promised, remember?"
He clenched his fists. "But how can I let this go without as much as a fight?"
"Because you promised me. And because we have to look after William." She placed her hands on Arthur's fists. "Arthur, please."
Reluctantly, he unclenched his fists and enveloped her tighter with his arms.
"I'll never forget her face," she confessed in a whisper. "She was suffocated by oxygen, can you believe that? Every gasp for air brought her one step closer to death."
Arthur shook his head.
"I can't continue to work there," Molly admitted. "I tried, but… every time I'm back in the Cliodna Ward, I revive the moment. I…" she hesitated. "The Board of St. Mungo offered each of us a job in one of the other departments if we wanted to. There's a vacancy at the Maternity Ward, and I was thinking about applying…"
"You should," Arthur said at once.
"But I feel that, if I do that, I'd be giving in. When I started as a Healer, I swore I'd help and protect the wounded and those who couldn't take care of themselves anymore. And if abandon my job when it gets tough, well, what does that say about me?"
"No one would think you any less if you switched to another ward. With these memories, you won't be able to function properly, and how can you help your patients when your mind is not in it?"
She had to admit there was some reason to his words.
"And besides, I can't think of anyone more vulnerable and less able to care for themselves than a newborn baby. We're fighting to build them a better future. But if there are troubles surrounding their birth, and no one is there to help them adequately, there aren't going to be many children to build a future for. Without children, all hope will be gone. And we need hope. We need to know that sometime, this war will end and someone will benefit from our fight. Otherwise, what use would it be to fight?"
She considered his words and weighted them carefully.
"If you put it that way…"
"I do. No one will think you any less if you switch," he repeated. "Least of all me."
She reached a conclusion. "You're right. I'll send in my letter tomorrow."
She leaned in to his chest and rested her tear-streaked face on his shoulders. "Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you," she murmured.