July 8th, 2016

"What's this one called, mum? I thought we were going to see Swan Lake."

"Swan Lake isn't on again until the winter, sweetheart. This one's called Onegin."

"Onegin?" Molly asked. The word felt unfamiliar in her mouth, and rolled off her tongue awkwardly.

"It's based off of Eugene Onegin by Alexander Pushkin," replied Audrey, and somehow her mother made the words sound simple and elegant. "Set to music by Tchaikovsky."

"Doesn't he do Swan Lake?"

"Yes, he does," laughed Audrey, and showed the usher their tickets before taking their seats.

It was a few minutes before the lights went out and the music started. A beautiful woman spun onto the stage, and Molly was lost in the story of the jaded aristocrat Eugene Onegin and the country girl Tatiana.

There was a rush of people leaving the theatre, and Molly had to run to keep up with her mother. "That was fantastic!"

"I think you say that about every ballet we see, Molly," replied Audrey. "But I agree, it was quite good. I saw this one with my mum, you know, when I was young..."

Audrey didn't speak much about her own mother, so Molly was surprised to hear this tidbit of information. She had always assumed unknowingly that her mother fell in love with ballet by herself.

"Did you see a lot of them with your mum?" whispered Molly, and despite the influx of people, her mother managed to hear her.

"Yes," she said, as they hurried down the pavement. "I saw Swan Lake with my mum. It was the first one I went to, and I remember telling her it was absolutely magical," her mother finished in a whisper, like it was a secret only she beheld. "She took me to many after that. The Nutcracker, The Tempest, Onegin, Nijinsky... we went whenever we could, really. She had the soundtracks memorized, and she'd play them on her Muggle record player."

Audrey sighed, smiling softly, and Molly had the feeling she was talking more to herself than to her daughter. "I remember them being the sweetest sounds I'd ever heard."

When they had finally reached the Apparation point, an alley deep in London, Molly turned to her mother.

"Are we going to the hospital?"

Audrey bit her lip. Molly sighed. Her cousins were great, so were her aunts and uncles and various other family members, but right now, she wanted to be with her family. And Lucy.

"I am," said Audrey, in a tone mixed with worry and guilt.

"Can't I go with you?" asked Molly. "I like my cousins and everything, aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry are great, but I want to see Lucy. I haven't seen her in a while, Mum."

"You saw her a week ago," reminded Audrey gently, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

Molly jerked out of her mother's touch. "Do you not want me to see her? Is that it?"

A flash of hurt ran through Audrey's eyes, gone before Molly could apologize. "Lucy has to stay calm," said her mother evenly. "And you excite her. She loves being around you."

"That's why I need to go!" Molly almost shrieked, and her voice felt odd in her throat. She almost never yelled at her mother. Actually, she never raised her voice at all – she'd always had an even tone, not too quiet and not too loud.

Audrey made a 'be quiet' motion with her hands. "I'm sorry, Molly. This is for Lucy's own good..."

"If I'm not allowed to see my own sister," said Molly, breathing heavily but calming down, lowering her voice, "can't I at least know why you're denying me?"

Audrey was quiet for a moment, and for a second, the only two things in the world that seemed to exist were her mother, and Lucy. Merlin, she needed Lucy. She was thirteen and didn't know much about the world outside of school and friends and playing outside, but if she knew one thing that would never change, it would be her need for Lucy. Perhaps she was being a little selfish, demanding for Lucy. Molly could see the hurt in her mother's eyes, where her words had struck her. But she wasn't a Hufflepuff, damn it all, she was a Gryffindor, and usually she was quiet and rule-following and completely normal, but now? She wasn't. She knew she was like her father, rule-abiding with a steady, controlled temper that only blew out of proportion rarely.

Audrey was thinking, rubbing her palms over her temples. They were still in that alley – close enough to hear each other, with the cars and traffic providing background noise.

Finally, her mother responded. "I'll... talk to your father," she said. "Molly, you have to understand that we don't know what is wrong with your sister. We only have some idea, and it may," her mother paused awkwardly, loosening up her bun before continuing, "partially be my own fault."

Molly had read the letter, and her mind whirled. "How would it be your fault, mum? You certainly wouldn't wish this upon Lucy," said Molly, before she could stop herself.

"No, of course not," said Audrey quickly. "No. I had a... well, I had an incident when I was younger, much like your sister. I was seven, and I was in St. Mungo's for a month. My mum... she died from it, when I turned fifteen."

Molly felt guilt course through her. How could she yell at her own mother about something she couldn't control, but felt like it was her fault anyway? Molly looked down, ashamed with herself. Whatever it was, it was serious. And it had killed her grandmother, the one she'd rarely heard about and never met.

Well, it was as good as anytime to come clean.

"I found a note you wrote to dad, in his old room, at the Burrow," started Molly, in a small voice.

Audrey motioned for her to continue.

"It said you needed to talk to him about something, something that you have and your mum had," said Molly, and looked down at her feet again.

"Yes," said Audrey. She wasn't angry? She wasn't going to yell at Molly, tell her she shouldn't have been snooping?

"Yes," Audrey repeated, sighing. But she didn't say anymore, and gently took hold of her daughter's hand. Molly was surprised as to how cold her mother's hands were.

Her mother looked defeated, and clasped Molly's hand tighter. "We'll go to St. Mungo's, okay? But you aren't staying the night. You're going back to Aunt Ginny's for supper, is that clear?"

Molly instantly felt bad – she tried to placate herself saying that she hadn't know, but guilt still flooded her and she nodded, without saying anything.

Her stomach twisted as her mother Apparated them away.

St. Mungo's was a stark white and loud, as usual. Healers bustled around and the Welcome Witch didn't even look up from the newest edition of Witch Weekly as they walked by her. She could hear loud wailing in the distance, and her mother picked up the pace as they moved to the children's ward.

"Perce," her mother said, as they entered Lucy's room. Her father was reading the Prophet, his glasses slipping down his nose and a cup of tea steaming next to him.

Lucy was tucked in the pristine white sheets, seemingly asleep. Her hair was fanned out over the pillow, fiery red hair like Molly's, and her face seemed a little paler, more sunken in, than before.

Her father looked up and jumped in surprise, placing the newspaper down on the small table next to him.

"Molly!" he said. "I thought you were at Aunt Ginny's."

Molly wondered if it was a good idea to insist upon coming here. Her father truly did seem surprised. She knew they didn't want her to know, probably so she wouldn't worry, Molly reasoned internally, but did they not want her here at all? Did they want to see their eldest daughter?

"She wanted to see Lucy," said Audrey, leaning down and kissing her husband on the cheek.

Percy sighed. Molly must have looked guilty, or sad, or both, because a second later, he was opening his arms and she was hugging her father.

"Molly-bear," he said, smoothing her hair that was so much like his own.

"Dad," said Molly, leaning back and giving him a quizzical look. "Why aren't you at work?" It was common knowledge that Percy Weasley worked more often than the average man. It was three o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon – shouldn't her father be at work?

"Minister Shacklebolt has given me time off," said Percy, saying the last two words as if they hurt him.

"You never take time off," said Molly, eyes wide.

"I do not ask for vacation leave often," admitted her father, "but the circumstances are... dire."

"How long are you off for, daddy?"

"Minister Shacklebolt has given me three weeks, which I do admit is quite a lot of time," said her father, sniffing. "But I won't complain, as that would be disrespectful and I'd much rather be here with my family than at the office."

Molly smiled brightly and hugged her father again, before standing by her sister's side. Her mother and father chatted behind her while she held on to her sister's hand.

It was cold, just like her mother's, but there was no doubt about the way Lucy's chest rose and fell evenly. She seemed a bit purplish underneath, like her skin was merely semi-translucent paper.

She wondered what was wrong with Lucy, so bad it had put her long-gone grandmother on her death bed and Lucy in St. Mungo's.

She wondered if there was a way they could fix it.

a/n - At least it wasn't a four month wait this time. Thank you to those who reviewed last time, they mean a lot! I (should) be updating this a lot more often... I hope. Heh. This story is going to be longer than originally planned; it was supposed to be Molly and Lucy centric, but Lysander will make appearances in upcoming chapters. I'd love to hear thoughts! Word count: 1,693.