Disclaimer: I don't own Potter property, but congrats to those who do.

March

"When Molly and Lucy were young girls, it was always Molly who played with dolls. She would dress them up, feed them, and take care of them as if they were her own children. There was no doubt in my mind she would take after my mum and have eight children of her own to raise and groom with a certain expertise only certain women possess. She was born for that. It was evident to me and everyone else in the family. It was evident to her, too, from a young age. At Hogwarts, I would always get stories of how she helped younger students who were in trouble or disappointed or something of the sort. She had the motherly gene even if she was a bit more tomboyish than Lucy. She took care of Lorcan, Lysander, and Cory as if they were her children, sometimes, too. I've heard them on more than one occasion arguing about the danger of this or that or her questioning whether or not they've thought through a plan well enough or her yelling at them for getting bad marks. It's just who she is.

"And when she found out she could never have children, that if she ever did it would kill her and the baby, she was lost. She didn't show it. She acted like nothing was wrong. But you could see it in the way she didn't touch her stuffed animals or dolls, in the way she talked to Lorcan more aggressively than she had before, in the way she completely withdrew into herself. She went away for a summer. Audrey and I thought it would be good for her. We didn't think she would just run away from her problems.

--Percy

Molly doubled over the toilet and vomited.

"What's wrong?" Lorcan asked, quickly coming next to her, holding back her hair as she vomited again.

"It's probably just a bug," she muttered, flicking the sink on.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should go see a healer."

Molly looked up at him, his blue eyes shimmering with worry. Her mouth twitched into a grin despite the tight pain wrapping around her stomach.

"I'm fine, Lorcan." She splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth.

"You're sure?"

"Yes!" She shook her head and laughed a bit.

"Maybe we shouldn't have kissed so much last night…I might actually come down with something…" Lorcan scratched his head, his face expressing his concern with his usual animation.

"Stop it," she said, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

"Come lay down. You need your rest." He scooped her up in his arms.

"Put me down, Lorcan. I can walk on my own."

"Not when you're in this condition, you can't. You just sit right here while I make you some chicken noodle soup, huh?" He put her gently on his couch and threw a blanket over her.

"Lorcan, I…"

"Hush. Get some rest."

"But I'm not…"

He turned around and left her there, her stomach settling and her eyes getting heavy again.

3

"No, Dominic, you aren't supposed to play with the spider," Molly said, gently taking away the squirming animal from the three year old.

"Spidy! Spidy!" He cried, jumping up and down in an effort to get it.

"Why don't you go and play with Kenny, Dom? He looks like he could use someone to play with," Molly said.

Dominic looked over his shoulder and abandoned Molly without a second thought. Molly promptly killed the spider and put the remains in the trash. She leaned against the wall, her head aching and her eyes stinging. She hadn't slept well last night, the bug still plaguing her with a constant sense of nausea. She pinched her nose between her eyes and took a deep breath against a particularly poignant urge to flee to the bathroom. Vomiting got tired very quickly.

"I think you need to take a few days off," Sarah, her boss, said. "You're just getting more and more run down every day. Go home and don't come back until next week."

"You're giving me a whole week off?"

"You've been deathly sick for a week. You shouldn't be here. What if one of the kids catches it? If this is something serious, then we're screwed."

Molly sighed and stared at her green shoes, her stomach threatening to revolt at any second.

"Alright. I'll see you Monday." Molly grabbed her jacket and headed for the floo.

3

"Molly?" A weight settled on the side of her bed. "Hey, how're you feeling?"

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Lorcan sat next to her, one of his warm hands on her arm.

"Tired," she muttered. "What's the time?"

"Eleven."

She groaned and rolled over, planting her face in a pillow.

"Come on, Molls. I scheduled a healer appointment for you."

"Lorcan!" She sat up, the sudden movement sending her head spinning. "What the fuck did you do that for?" She pressed her fingers to her head. "Merlin, that was stupid. I'm not going."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"I'll drag you if I have to."

"You're not dragging me. I'll vomit all over you."

"That won't stop me."

"Please. You're more of a germophobe than Hugo, King Germophobe himself."

"I'll get over it for you and your well being."

Molly lowered her hands and looked at him, at his jaw set and his hands clenched.

"Please don't do this." Her voice was faint, fear beginning to grip her. She felt unwarranted tears come to her eyes, the memory of what happened the last time she went to a healer…

"Molly. It'll be ok." He wrapped his hands around her upper arms, his long fingers entirely circling them. "We'll be there together."

"That's…that's what you said last time, too."

Lorcan's grip loosened and his eyes looked at the bed spread. Suddenly, he moved next to her and wrapped his arms around her so tight she thought he was going to break some of her bones.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "You have no idea." He pressed his nose into her hair. "Please, Molly."

She didn't move.

"Molly…"

"Lorcan, please let go of me." Molly looked at him, cold.

"You can't be doing this right now," he said, standing up.

"Doing what? Trying to get some sleep?" She felt tears prick the back of her eyes. "Trying to get better? A healer isn't going to do anything for me! Nothing! We both know it. Get out of my room!"

"Molly, I'm not leaving without you."

"Yes, you are."

"No I'm not."

"Be reasonable!"

Molly rolled her eyes and got out of bed. It was pointless trying to sleep now. She slipped by Lorcan and slowly made her way down the stairs, every step seeming to jar her stomach and churn it to the point of vomiting. She slipped into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, Lorcan standing in her mirror.

"Molly, you have to go to the healer."

"No I don't."

"What if this is a complication?"

Molly stopped brushing her teeth, cold washing over her.

"It's just a bug," she said quickly, getting back to brushing.

"You've been sick for at least a week."

"I'm fine."

"Molly…"

"It's not a complication."

"How is not…"

"It's not a complication!" Molly slammed her toothbrush against the sink. "There's nothing wrong with me! I just have the flu!"

"You don't just have the flu. You don't have a fever. And even if it is just the flu, then there's potions you can…"

"Shove it, Lorcan."

She bristled by him and again and continued down the stairs, fully aware of his heavy tread behind her.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lorcan asked, grabbing her wrist. "Are you purposefully putting yourself in a dangerous situation? Are you deliberately killing yourself?"

"I'm not killing myself."

"You might as well be."

"There is no way in the world that doing this is killing myself."

She stepped into the kitchen and started pouring water in the teapot, hoping a good cup of tea would settle her stomach a touch.

"Sit down," Lorcan demanded, pushing her into a chair. She collapsed under the persistent weight of his hands and cradled her aching head. Lorcan bumbled around the kitchen.

"Peppermint," she said suddenly, looking up at him.

"What?"

"Peppermint tea."

He looked down at the canister he had in his hand and put it back on the shelf. Molly folded her arms on the table, resting her head in their crux. Her head throbbed with a regular pattern reminiscent of a drumbeat, her stomach churning with the vibrancy of a violin, her muscles as tense as the strings on a guitar. Damn it. It was like her entire body was revolting against her. Her chest began to ache when she breathed.

"Hey…what just happened? Are you ok? Why're you breathing shallow?" Lorcan looked at her, an alarmed look on his face.

"Nothing," she said, struggling to breath. "I'm just out of…" A sharp pain stabbed her lower back. She sat up straight, tears coming to her eyes. She was stabbed again, a soft sound of pain escaping from her lips.

"I'm going to pick you up," he said, wrapping his strong arm behind her shoulders.

"No…Lorcan…I'm just achy…"

"No you aren't." He picked her up and disapparated.