Dedicated to hushpuppy22, who has been not only one of my most loyal reviewers, but actually messaged me to check on the status of this chapter. Thank you! : )
She also gave me some helpful criticism on Hermione, to whom I have been a bit cruel. I apologize to Hermione-supporters. I think I definitely could have written this better, but just to clarify; the reason Hermione seems as harsh/unforgiving as she does in several scenes here is because this story is from Molly's point of view. While Molly is a very reasonable girl, Hermione and she have clashed from the get-go; thus, when anything is said, Molly will hear the very worst interpretation of it. I promise not to leave this unrectified, but I think that at least excuses about 40% of the Hermione hating going on in this story. The other 60% is sloppy writing on my part, and for that, lovely reviewer people, I apologize.
This is enormously late for a variety of reasons, most of which people probably don't care to hear about, so I won't dwell on it here; my apologies, reviewer superheroes. Next chapter up is half-written so it will be soon. I promise.
Dance, Dance
Dance, Dance
We're falling apart to half time
Dance, Dance
And these are the lives you'd love to lead
Dance, this is the way they'd love
If they knew how misery loved me
You always fold just before you're found out
-Fall Out Boy
"I 'ave a cold." Albus mumbled unhappily as he sank down beside me in the Gryffindor Common room. He rested his head on my shoulder, and I raised my eyebrows.
It'd been two weeks since we'd gotten back from break, and it'd been quiet, if a little tense. I hadn't heard from Nate, but I'd expected that; in fact, as Fred had pointed out, no news was good news. The only letter I expected to get from Nate was something along the lines of "you need to come home." And, selfishly, more than I even wanted to hear from Nate—and God, did I want to hear from Nate—I didn't want to have to go home.
"Did you go to Pomfrey?" I asked. "She could give you some pepper up potion or something…"
"'Ate 'ospital wi'g." Albus mumbled past his stuffy nose. I leaned my head to the side, letting my cheek rest against his black hair before I realized that he was in his red Quidditch robes.
"You went to practice? With a cold?" I demanded, pulling away sharply from him; he moaned a little as he lost his head rest, sitting up straighter. I twisted to glare at him. "Are you stupid?"
"Yes, he is." Fred chimed in pleasantly as he sank down across from us. "Wait, what are we talking about?" He asked after a second. "Because while I've always thought my cousin a bit dim," he shot Albus a pitying look, "You, Molly Gale, have never shared that opinion."
"He went to practice with his cold!" I told Fred. "This is your fault. You should have told him not to."
"To not play quidditch with a cold?" Fred checked. "No I should not have." He shook his head, and some snow felt out of his hair. "Professional Quidditch players have been known to play with Dragon Pox—"
"You understand that his playing will only get him sicker?" I asked Fred flatly, as if he was stupid. "He needs to rest. Get some cold medicine."
"We call dat pepper-up potion, 'ere in da Wizarding world, love." Albus said to me, reaching over to pat my knee condescendingly. I flashed him a glare and he removed his hand quickly, flashing me an apologetic grin. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Sorry, love." He said sheepishly.
"Go get some pepper-up potion then." I ordered. "You're going to get Fred and me sick and that will be much, much worse than you just being sick, I assure you." Albus's eyebrows shot up, before he looked at Fred.
"She makes a convincing argument." Albus murmured, looking mildly concerned. Fred raised his eyebrows.
"My good man, do elaborate." Fred invited, pulling out his wand and flicking it; it immediately transformed a pencil on the table into a large pipe, and he sank back on the couch, sticking his pipe in his mouth. He blew on it, and pink and yellow bubbles popped out the end, and I blinked. Fred.
Not to be out done, Albus pulled his own wand out, then looked to the vase of sad-looking flowers on the table. He pulled one out, and then tapped it with his wand; it immediately turned from the sad dying flower to a Lily, and he turned to me, holding it out. I took it from him, raising my eyebrows and ignoring the smile that was tugging at my lips. Then he tapped his robes and they turned into a neon orange(orange, of all colors) crop top and a pair of blue bike shorts, the tight-to-your-skin kind. I glanced down at my lap as I pressed my lips together. I would not laugh at the boys. I would not. That would only encourage them
"Well, fellow scholar," Albus said easily, as if he wasn't wearing something that was too absurd to look at, "My lovely lily of a love threatens multiple times in the day to murder us." Albus shrugged. "This could escalate, were she to be ill, as colds and the like generally lend to grumpiness."
Fred nodded, as if Albus had just said something very wise. He blew out more bubbles before he removed the pipe from his mouth. "If she was feverish," He noted, "she might, in her delirium, actually kill us."
"That would be most unfortunate." Albus pointed out mildly.
"Most unfortunate indeed." Fred agreed. He blew out more bubbles, then looked to me. "Miss Molly? Have you thoughts on the matter?"
"I do." Liam volunteered behind me, and I twisted to look back at him. "We are late." He told me.
"No, you were late." I said heatedly, pushing myself up so I was standing. "And now I have to make sure the idiot I'm dating gets to the Hospital Wing—"
"Are you joking?" Liam demanded, as I turned to look at him; I put my hands on my hips.
"Do I joke a lot?" I demanded skeptically. Liam frowned at me.
"I am not babysitting your boyfriend because he was stupid enough to go quidditch practice with a cold." Liam growled. I took a deep breath, my eyes narrowing despite my attempts to stay calm.
"How are you a prefect?" I demanded. "You're such a fucking asshole."
"You're—" Liam began, but I just shook my head.
"Shut up." I hissed at him. "Just shut up. I will literally beat your sorry ass if you don't."
"You couldn't beat me up." Liam snorted. I raised my eyebrows.
"I have three brothers and live in a sketchy part of town, back home." I told him. "So I would think really carefully before assuming I couldn't beat you up."
"Good Sir Fitzroy, as someone who has been punched by the lovely Mollilicious before," Fred began in a carefully formal voice, "I wouldn't do that."
Liam's gaze flicked from Fred to Albus to me, to Fred, to me, and then down to the fists that my hands had formed, somewhere along the way. Liam exhaled shortly, looking at me angrily. "I literally hate you more than Rose, some days." He told me shortly. I blinked, then snorted in laughter, shaking my head.
"You're lying." I told him, and my next words were softer. "Because you don't hate Rose. " I didn't continue, because to do so would be cruel; I'd called him on his lie. Liam didn't hate Rose. He loved Rose. And she would never recognize or care or treat him better for it. And he knew that. It was weird, because aside from his nobility in this one case, Liam was an asshole. But he loved Rose and he had said nothing since Rose had dumped him because he didn't have a chance and he was salvaging the sliver of pride he had left.
Liam glared at me for a long moment. "Die, Molly. Die."
"I literally understand zero of what's going on here." Fred said slowly, looking from me to Liam and back to me.
"The bubbles are going to your brain." I told him, raising an eyebrow. "Now go upstairs and shower before you get into pneumonia too." I looked to Albus. "C'mon, let's get you some potion, genius."
"Pause." Liam said, holding up his hands as Albus stood up, and he turned back to Liam. "I'm not going anywhere with this one if he continues to wear—that." He said shortly. "End of story."
"You sure about that?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing.
"You would literally have to beat me up before I saw Scorpius Malfoy while standing next to that idiot dressed like that." Liam said shortly.
"Oh Scorpius." I said, with faux-sentimentality. Aside from Rose liking him, Albus hated him (more out of reflex than actual ill will) and Fred just sort of passively liked to hit bludgers at him. I glanced back to what was going on before me as Albus tapped the hem of his shorts with his wand, and his clothing turned back into his Quidditch robes. "And… we're back." I said, glancing to Liam. "Is he suitably clothed now, your highness?"
"Molly, please stop picking on me." Liam whined. I raised my eyebrows.
"Do you really think that will ever happen?" I asked. Liam sighed. I smirked.
I'd won.
"I cannot believe," Liam began dramatically, two days later as we stood in the trophy room of the school, "that we got detention for being twenty minutes late for rounds." Liam paused, looking at me. "This is your fault." I turned to glare at Liam. Strictly speaking, it definitely was my fault. I was the one who'd insisted on escorting Albus to the Hospital Wing, and when Professor Gilbert, the head of Slytherin, had caught us not on rounds, he'd deducted points. I'd argued with him, and in what I stood by was a disproportionate response, we'd been given a night's detention. We had to clean all the trophies here by hand before we got to go back to our dormitory; a cursory glance around the room told me we'd be here until well after midnight.
"Shut up." I said shortly. "You agreed to bring Al to the Hospital Wing with me."
"You blackmailed me!" Liam protested. I snorted, grabbing my bucket of supplies and dragging it over to the cabinet to the immediate right of the door; I opened the glass doors, pulling out the only object on the shelves; a small, bronze cup that looked like it hadn't been shined since the beginning of time.
"Get started." I told Liam. "We'll be here until one AM anyway. We might as well not end later."
"I shouldn't even be here." He grumbled, but dragged his bucket of supplies forward to the cabinet beside me. I bent down, unlidding my polish and rubbing some on my cloth. "This is ridiculous."
"Could you be quiet?" I demanded, glaring at him. "You're here. Who cares how you got here?" Liam frowned at me. I continued to scowl. Finally Liam exhaled through his nose, reminding me starkly of a bull.
"They're probably making us do this because we're the only kids that could." Liam grumbled. I frowned, glancing sideways at him even as I began to polish the trophy in my hand; Liam was just beginning to trophy a larger trophy. He met my gaze evenly. "We're Muggleborns." He noted after a second. "Magic's great and all but it makes for some mighty lazy children." He shook his head.
"I keep forgetting you're muggleborn too." I murmured. Liam nodded, and we worked in silence for a few minutes. "Where d'you live?"
"Belfast." He said. "Mum is a police officer, there." He didn't continue, pointedly, so I didn't say anything; he took a deep breath, glancing back at me. "You?"
"You've got to be the only person left in the Wizarding World that doesn't already know where Molly Gale's estranged muggle family lives." I muttered, scrubbing harder at the trophy for a moment.
"Yeah, like Fred or Albus would let a tabloid about you enter our dormitory without killing someone." Liam said sarcastically, and I glanced up at Liam appreciatively. Liam had no tact and was deliberately difficult ninety-nine percent of the time, but at least he was honest. He wasn't saying he'd never read a tabloid about me—just never around my boyfriend.
"Mum and Dad live back in Nottingham." I said carefully, scrubbing in tight movements at the trophy. It was small but the bronze was really dirty—it'd been years since someone had cleaned this stuff. Silence spread between us for a second before I felt Liam's gaze on my face, but I didn't move; I didn't encourage staring, and I certainly wouldn't reward it.
"I've heard Fred and Al talk—is your dad really that bad?" Liam asked after a minute.
"Fred and Al talk about me?" I demanded sharply, glancing up at him. Liam smirked.
"Are you surprised?" He demanded.
"Shut up." I grumbled, looking back down at the trophy. It was almost clean. "And my family is none of your business." I paused. "Especially if your mum is a cop."
"Yeah, because I'm going to write home about your family problems." Liam muttered. "Self-centered, much."
Anger flared at the accusation; my head snapped up. "Oy." I hissed, glancing up at him. "That's what Al did." I said defensively, glancing at him. "You have a fucking talent for pissing me off, Fitzroy. Quit it." I shook my head, glancing back down at my trophy.
"Trouble in paradise?" Liam demanded, his tone a little mocking, and I gritted my teeth.
"No." I said shortly. "I get why he did it."
"You get—what?" Liam asked. I took a deep breath, wondering how much detention I would get if I just clocked Liam with the trophy. It was small, but it'd probably knock him out. Then he'd be quiet. God, that would be nice.
"I understand why Albus took what I said to his dad." I said shortly, my voice low as I glanced up at Liam.
"You literally have no capacity for forgiveness." Liam told me, his eyes wide. "Literally zero. And you're telling me that your boyfriend going to his dad—his dad the cop, no less—about your family issues so he could interfere—that doesn't bother you?" He stared at me.
I felt a hot blush on my face as I realized what Liam was saying—I should have been angry. Albus didn't hesitate to tell his dad when things with my parents got bad, when I hadn't heard from Nate in a while or something. And from anyone else on earth—including Fred—it would have made me see red. With Albus, though, I sort of understood it. And I knew why, as embarrassing as it was.
"I would do the same thing." I said shortly to Liam. "If the situation was reversed. If Al's parents were—the way my parents are—and my dad was in a position to do something about it, I would tell my dad." Liam stared at me. I frowned. "Look, you don't have to understand but I would literally give anything for Albus. Even if I thought—even if I thought I'd lose him." I bit the inside of my lip, resisting the urge to bite my lip, lest I look like a sappy teenage girl. "And that's what Albus did. He would rather I be safe than make sure I wasn't mad about his trying to protect me. And that's frustrating as hell, sometimes, but I get it."
"Oh my God." Liam said after a second. "Shit." He ran a hand over the top of his head, making his hair stick up every which way. "You're in love with Albus." I bit the inside of my cheek to fight a blush crawling up my neck.
"What?" I demanded. "How in the name of Merlin did you—"
"You love Albus—" Liam taunted. "Molly and Albus sitting in a tree—"
"Are you fucking with me?" I demanded angrily. Liam didn't continue, just grinned at me, and I glared at him for a moment before I looked back down at my trophy; done. I put it back in the cabinet, closing the glass doors before I turned to Liam. "I'm not in love with Albus."
"Yes, you are." Liam retorted. "You do not have any capacity for forgiveness at all, Molly. Seriously. I've known you for five years; in those five years, I have pissed you off easily more times than anyone else in this school. And you do not forgive." He stared at me frankly. "You forgave Albus. Not only that—you empathized with Albus. You—"
"Stop." I hissed at him, stepping towards him; he dropped back a step. I smirked, falling back a step myself to back before my cabinet; I'd won. Casually, I bent down, reaching for the bottom cabinet door; it was made of rough wood that had, in age, warped; I had to tug hard on the door twice before it sprung open—and something shot out.
"Agh—" I stumbled into Liam, out of the thing's way; it was an animal of some sort but it was shifting on the ground, spinning and switching shapes even as Liam grabbed my arm and we stepped backwards, away from it. "What the hell is that?" I demanded lowly; Liam didn't respond. It was getting bigger and shape-shifting, a new form every moment until it stopped, after only three or four seconds.
And suddenly, the lifeless body of my boyfriend laid on the floor before me.
I froze, panic making my lungs tight as I stared down at this impossibility. Albus Severus Potter couldn't be dead, I told myself, because he hadn't been here just now. His body would only be here if he'd died here, which he can't have. He was alive. He'd been alive when I'd left him in the Common Room fifteen minutes ago. Albus Severus Potter wasn't dead.
But his body was there. That was his body. I knew him now—I knew every inch of Albus's face that I had stared at over and over again because he was too attractive to be mine, too nice, too smiley. His green eyes were closed, but his black hair, always so messy, was there. It was messy.
I felt a lump in my throat, my eyes watering. Albus. "Molly?" Liam's voice was far away and I felt my knees buckling. "Shit—what the—" Albus's body was still there, still staring at me like he would if he was dead—"Riddikulus." Liam interrupted my thoughts and suddenly Albus's body flickered into rubber duck, the kind that small children take in the tub with them.
"What?" I asked hoarsely, ripping my watery gaze from where Al's body had been. Back in reality now, I realize Liam was all but holding me up; his arm around my waist, my legs shaking a little. "Albus—"
"Boggart, it was just a boggart." Liam said softly to me, his voice firm. I swallowed. It was just a boggart. I had to stop freaking out. Just a boggart. Albus wasn't dead. (Even that thought made my stomach clench.)
Liam continued even though I hadn't insisted. "It's meant to take the form of the thing you fear most." Liam was babbling a little, because even though I was sure Albus's dead body wasn't his worst fear, he and Al were roommates, for five years now. I shuddered a little, closing my eyes and ducking my head. My heart was going a mile a minute; my eyes still felt oddly teary. Fuck it. I had to pull it together. That hadn't been Albus. "Jesus, you're shaking, Molly." Liam mumbled, suddenly closer to me, and I realized, unsteadily, that I was, indeed, shaking. Adrenaline, I figured. "Let's go to the hospital wing. You could use—something. I don't know."
"I don't need the Hospital Wing." I mumbled. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine." Liam said quietly, not rising to the bait of an argument as he usually would. "C'mon. Pomfrey will give you something." Liam pointed his wand at the duck. "Emprisum." He mumbled, and a black box sprang up around the duck. "Okay, come on."
"I'm fine—" I said, swiping at my eyes after a second. "I'm just freaking out, it's fine—"
"No, it's not." Liam murmured, looking to me. "Boggarts suck." He pushed me towards the door to the room, abandoning our cleaning equipment and the trophies. I didn't care though; the image of Albus's body was burned into my eyelids, even when I tried to shut them against it. Fuck. It hadn't been real.
"Liam, I'm fine—" I muttered, pulling away from him even as we stepped away from the room. I wavered uncertainly for a moment as he stopped, looking back to me seriously. "I just—need a minute to—" I paused, another wave of tears hitting my eyes, and I paused, feeling my stomach rolling as my mind grabbed hold of that moment, the picture; Albus, my Albus, dead. Dead.
I half-stumbled, half-ran to the trash can at the end of the hallway, emptying my stomach as Liam cursed behind me. "You need Pomfrey." Liam insisted, and I straightened up.
"I need a minute, Liam, shut up." I hissed at him. Liam stared at me. "I don't need Pomfrey or anyone. I just need you to shut up and give me a second to convince myself that that—wasn't—" I paused, closing my eyes and pressing the palms of my hands into my eyes. Stars exploded in the darkness of my eyelids at the pressure; I was grateful for anything but Albus's body. "That wasn't Albus."
Liam said nothing, because he was as white as I was. I exhaled, leaning against the wall and sliding down, until I was sitting with my knees up to my chest on the ground. That hadn't been Albus. I had to stop freaking out. Boggarts just exploited your biggest fear. They didn't actually make it happen. I bit the inside of my cheek.
"Your biggest fear is Albus, dead?" Liam asked after a second, his voice soft. I closed my eyes, letting my head fall forward so my forehead touched my knees. I was having the same thought that Liam was. I had twelve different nightmare scenarios about my family, all of which made my blood run cold and my hands clench until my knuckles turned white. But I hadn't factored this in. I hadn't realized that Albus had nightmare scenarios associated with him. "You've got a crazy dad and like four siblings and your biggest fear is—" I had to stop Liam from finishing that thought.
"Shut up." I hissed, glancing up at him, ice flooding my mind and enabling me to think. It was funny; I always thought clearest when I was doing this, stopping someone from saying the words I didn't want to hear. "Shut up. And if you ever tell anyone—anyone, Liam, I don't care if it's your mailman back in Belfast—I will find you and kill you." My voice was low, and serious, because real threats didn't come in shouts or tears.
Liam stared at me for a moment before he frowned. "You've got anger issues." He grumbled after a second, looking down.
"If you think that's the case now, then just you wait until you tell someone." I said, a flicker of a bitter smile crossing my features; Liam nodded. I let go of the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, rubbing my forehead.
"Alright." Liam crossed his arms. "You look like you're about to pass out. Go to the Hospital Wing."
"Stop talking." I told him. "Stop." Liam rolled his eyes, but stopped talking, and I exhaled shortly.
Albus wasn't dead. That hadn't been real. Just a stupid boggart. I couldn't keep being this frightened; things would get bad at home, soon. If I got this frightened back home, when Dad was yelling and Nate and Cal and Ellie needed me, then things would get terrible, quickly. I had to be stronger than this. And yet I knew that part of what was rendering me unable to respond, part of what left me there, sitting on the floor of the hallway for the next twenty minutes, wasn't just the terror of seeing Albus's body—though that was most of it. The remaining bit was a different kind of terror. I couldn't handle Albus's death—that much was clear. And he was sixteen, and not ill or particularly clumsy or anywhere near death. But still. I was no longer impenetrable. I had a weakness.
What had Albus done to me?
"You should work this summer at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with Fred and me." Albus decided as he sat down beside me at the Three Broomsticks the next day; it was a Saturday, and we were in Hogsmeade, as always. I raised my eyebrows, looking to him from where I'd been talking to Fred. I felt my heart jump to my throat as I met his green eyes—I couldn't get the image of him dead out of my mind. I'd slept last night for all of two hours and those two hours had been me having a vivid nightmare where I was getting an award and then Albus was dead on the stage. And then Rose had woken me up, since I'd apparently started crying in my sleep, adding an extra layer of terrible to that.
"I do not share your passion for pranks." I reminded Albus after a beat too long for my reaction to be entirely normal; Al noticed, his grin fading a degree, but since I was always being grumpy, he just plowed on, probably assuming he could pull me out of whatever mood I apparently was in.
"Details, my dear lady—" Albus said, waving his hand at me. I snorted in laughter, relaxing a little.
"Alright, but what about the fact that I am a prefect?" I asked. "If I'm the one selling the products as well as confiscating them—that seems like a conflict of interest." I raised my eyebrows, and Albus sighed, sinking onto his stool like a dejected child. He looked across to Fred.
"I told you it'd only be trouble, dating a prefect." Fred told him. I shook my head, looking down at my butter beer.
"Love, don't get me wrong when I say this," Albus said, and I glanced up at him; he was grinning at me, but it wasn't the same ridiculous grin he wore so frequently so much as the one where his eyes weren't grinning. His green eyes were dark, and I felt an odd warmth pool between my lungs, "because this is not a personal judgment so much as a point made to me by almost every adult in my life—but you are a terrible prefect, as a result of our dating."
I offered Albus a smile, and he pouted. "I was a little funny there." He said. "I at least deserve a pity laugh. Not simply a pity smile." I shrugged, looking down at my butter beer. There was a beat of silence, and I could imagine the boys trading looks, the way they did when they were worried about me. "Molls?" Albus asked after a beat. "Is everything alright?"
"Fine." I said absently, glancing up at him. Albus raised his eyebrows, but not in the mocking way he sometimes did. I held his gaze evenly. I wouldn't give without a fight.
"Please tell me." Albus murmured. I exhaled shortly. I wasn't one of those girls who thought Albus was convincing because I was in love with him or some nonsense—I just wanted to tell him. Honestly. Because then maybe I wouldn't have another nightmare like last night's. And last night's was terrible.
I bit the inside of my lip, looking back down at my butterbeer. "I saw a boggart yesterday at detention—it came out of nowhere—" I shook my head, not looking up at my boyfriend. "It became you. You were dead on the floor of the trophy room." I closed my eyes. "I barely slept last night—I had a nightmare when I did—" I shook my head, releasing my butter beer. "You were dead."
Silence descended on the table, until Albus scooted his stool closer to mine, the wood scraping against the floor. He bumped my leg with his, clumsily, but it was enough to make me look up at him. "I'm your biggest fear?" Albus asked after a second, and I recoiled from him when he reached out to touch my arm.
"I have a lunatic for a father and my siblings are in constant danger and you—you were what came up." I muttered, looking at him, my eyes serious. "You were somehow the result." I shook my head. "For years—literal years, Al—my first priority has been Nate and Cal and Ellie and Cormac, because they need me more. They need someone to put them first and I—I'm not anymore—"
"Molly—"
"No, Albus." I said, shaking my head. "This isn't a Molly thing. This is terrible." I ran my hand down my face. "You're not in danger, you're not sick—you're just normal and yet, somehow, you in danger was literally enough to shut me down yesterday. Liam almost dragged me to the Hospital Wing." I shook my head. "It's ridiculous. You are a—freaking virus or something, infecting everything."
"Oy, I am not a virus." Albus retorted, but he didn't look upset, or even irritated. He actually sort of looked pleased. He was sort of half-smiling in a way that made me want to kill hm.
"Are you smiling?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing. Across the table, an awkward-looking Fred chuckled, sliding off his seat and walking towards the bar. Albus glanced after him before looking back to me, full-out grinning. "Are you fucking with me? I'm over here freaking the shit out, and you're smiling? You're a terrible—"
"No, Molly—" Albus's hand slid down my arm comfortingly, and I looked at him miserably. "Molls. Love. I'm not pleased you're freaking out. Just—" He was grasping for a moment, trying to get a footing on the words he wanted to get out. "I love you, Molly."
I couldn't help the searing delight that made my vision swim—Albus loved me. I wrapped my arms around myself. Albus loved me.
"You love me?" I echoed. "But—" I fell silent.
"I love you too." I said after a second, my head spinning a little with the weight of those words. "And—" Albus ducked forward, his lips brushing mine, and my eyes closed, sheer, pure happiness making my legs weightless as I slid off my stool, so I was standing in front of Al, one hand reaching up to the back of his head. I pulled back after a second, blinking away the feeling of contentment as I realized I hadn't made my point.
"You love me." Albus said smugly, grinning. "Yay."
"What did that have to do with anything?" I demanded, smiling despite myself.
"Your worst fear is my death." Albus reminded me; I felt my smile dim. "Since every time you get within a ten foot radius of your father, I have a panic attack, it's reasonable to assume that the same is true, vice versa." He grinned. I swallowed as I stared up at him. I wanted nothing to change. I wasn't to always be in this perfect moment where he loved me and I loved him and that was it. We were the whole world. But we weren't.
"But you don't have anyone else you need to be taking care of." I said after a beat. "That's the problem."
Al snorted. "I did not sense so much of a problem there." He told me, and I rolled my eyes; his arms encircled my waist, pulling me against him as he slid off his chair.
"I love you, and that steals attention from Nate and Cal and Ellie. Attention that they desperately, desperately need." I murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek with my hand. "I can't be distracted like this."
"I'm a distraction." Albus repeated my words to me, and I exhaled shortly, shaking my head immediately, a clawing panic in my chest; I didn't want to hurt Albus's feelings, and that was the problem.
"You're not a distraction, and you know that." I told him, raising my eyebrows in a dare to challenge; Al smiled at me, but his eyes were that rolling, dark green that made it clear he was very much aware of the serious tone of this conversation. "That's not what I'm saying. My point is…I can't just be this girl, Albus. The kids need me but I lose sight of that so easily—because you're here and you're perfect and all I want to do around you is be happy, because that's all I ever am, when you're here." I stared at him. "You make me forget every single other responsibility I have. That was made clear, yesterday. And that's—bad." I closed my eyes, ducking my head against his chest, my forehead resting against the cloth there, and I felt Al rest his cheek on my hair. "That could put Nate and Cal and Ellie in danger."
"Love," Albus murmured into my hair, and for once, his tone was completely serious. "That won't happen. How could it? The moment you're with me, you're happy, everything's perfect, yes—but when you're with them, your entire brain is on them. It's like night and day."
"That's bad!" I said, perhaps too earnestly as I pulled back to shake my head; Albus raised his eyebrows. "It shouldn't be." I countered, pulling back to shake my head. "I should never have another thought in my head."
"Do you ever cut yourself a break?" Albus wondered softly, studying me tiredly. "I get exhausted watching you work this hard. You must be running on empty, Molly."
His words were alluring; I was exhausted. I was running on empty. But I couldn't think that—the more I acknowledged it, the worse it felt. "They need me more." I said desperately, after a moment. "I'm the last adult left on the merry go round. I can't just…stop."
"I'm not suggesting you stop forever." Albus said softly. "I'm not stupid. Ideally, you wouldn't have to care for the kids, but you do, and that's reality." I nodded, feeling simultaneous relief and panic. I was validated, finally, by someone who thought I was playing this right. On the other hand, getting this validation on this—that meant I had to keep doing this dance. I was still putting on this show even though no one was left in the audience, because that was all Nate and I knew how to do. "But what if you stopped giving them all of yourself if things aren't terrible right then and there?" Albus's words were seemingly innocent, but they were poison to me. "This doesn't help them. Killing yourself is no benefit to them."
"Stop." I groaned, ducking my head as I pulled away properly, disentangling myself from his arms. Al watched me carefully wrap my arms around myself. "I can't stop."
"Why?" Albus demanded. "Where's the harm in cutting yourself a break—"
"I'm not stupid, Albus." I said shortly, my head shooting up; I met his gaze heatedly. "What I'm doing here, this disaster situation—it will last, what, another month?" I demanded, my voice hoarse and desperate. "I can't let it go because the moment it changes, I have to have an answer. I have to know what I'm doing and what lie to tell and who to say it to because if I don't—everything falls apart! And the kids can't deal with that—"
Albus shook his head as he turned back to his butter beer. He took a swig of it, before he set it down on the table, hard. He turned back to me, his eyes darker still, with their swirling colors and frustration. "After yesterday, Molly, you know what it's like to lose me." His words cut at me, because they were said in the cutting way that most of mine were. "So understand me when I say that I am losing you slowly, so slowly, to the vast pit of panic that is your family and it is killing me," his voice broke on killing, and the anguish on his face registered in my brain. Al turned away, slipping between people and walking away from me. He slipped out of the Three Broomsticks, stumbling onto the snowy Hogsmeade streets, and I turned away from the window.
I couldn't lose him. I couldn't lose him, and I couldn't lose the kids.
I felt like I was losing both.
Is Albus Potter his father's intended heir? Will Molly be our Princess Potter?
The headline emblazoned on the front of Witch Weekly in obnoxiously shimmering letters stared out from every issue of Witch Weekly in our school; the February first issue of Witch Weekly entirely about Albus and myself had come out. It'd been a week since Albus's and my "enthusiastic debate" (Fred's name for it, coined on our walk back to Hogwarts) in the Three Broomsticks, and we hadn't talked more about it. That wasn't so much avoidance or anger so much as the fact that there was simply not that much left to say. Albus knew that eventually, my family would pull me back in. And I now understood how much pain that caused him.
"Princess Potter?" I murmured as I stared down at my complimentary copy. I was beginning to think that Rita Skeeter was mocking me with these.
Albus flashed me a grin across the table, and I rolled my eyes. Still, though, the name 'Princess Potter' was enough to make me nervous. In order for me to have the surname Potter, we'd have to get married. It made me nervous that Albus and I had only said I love you to each other two days ago and the papers were already suggesting that I was going to be the next Mrs. Potter. The thought made my head spin, until I forced myself to stop going to the flighty fantasy of all teenage girls. Facts, were, I probably wasn't even finishing this year at Hogwarts. If I managed to scrape by enough OWLs to remain at Hogwarts for next year (assuming that I was able to do that…), I'd be pleased to grow into an old cat lady.
With that, I shook my head, looking back down at my copy, inspecting the glimmering words on the cover. Is James Potter losing his Heir Apparent status to his little brother? Page 27. I raised my eyebrows, looking up at Albus.
"You're stealing your brother's 'Heir Apparent' status." I told him.
"If only." James said irritatedly as he sank down beside Albus. He looked at me across the table. "Hello Princess Potter."
"Stop." I told him firmly. "And what do you mean, 'if only'?" I demanded, frowning at him. James shrugged, grabbing his brother's pumpkin juice; Albus looked up at him irritatedly.
"I mean that I would be pleased as punch if I got to grow up and be a Broomstick Spell Configurer and not have a tabloid care." James said shortly. I raised my eyebrows. James Potter was maybe the only person on the planet who hated people as much as I did. He seriously did just want everyone to piss off—and that wasn't as a consequence of some great secret, or disaster, like it was with me. He was just tired of people thinking his life was their business.
"You want to be a Broomstick Spell Configurer?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. James shrugged.
"I'm seventeen." He told me. "I'm an adult only in the eyes of the law. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing." I snorted in laughter, looking to Albus, who glanced up at me before catching onto my unspoken question.
"Professional Seeker." Albus said shortly. I stared at him across the table, even as he turned to James. "Could you go steal Lily's Pumpkin Juice? We have a game today. I need my juice."
"Lily does the backwash thing—" James said, making a disgusted face as he shook his head a little; Albus grimaced in agreement. "And your juice tastes especially tasty because I take a certain joy in stealing your juice, in addition to the inherent joy of juice." James stated with a straight face. I raised my eyebrows, looking to Fred, who in turn looked to James.
"You're in a good mood today." He pointed out.
James nodded, taking a gulp of his brother's pumpkin juice again before he set it down on the table. "Had two good things happen in the last twenty four hours, which has happened maybe once before in my entire life, so I'm pretty pumped." James said, his voice flat as he looked to Fred. Albus looked sharply to his brother.
"Dare I ask?" Albus asked.
"Since I am in such a wonderful mood, I'm going to ignore the implication there," James said, nodding his head once like he thought this was a particularly good decision. "First, Sera's grandmother's final appeal to be released from Azkaban was shut down by the Wizengamot last night, so most of sixth and seventh year were up partying last night in the Room of Requirement." James allowed himself to smile, now, and I stared at him. Had I ever seen James Potter smile before?
"Is that really a partying thing?" I asked after a beat. "I mean, I know I missed that year and thus lack a lot of understanding surrounding the issue, but that seems more like a victory that one celebrates with a whiskey than a party—"
"Sera's grandmother murdered her mother." James said factually, and I raised my eyebrows.
"Alright then, party away." I said, saluting James.
"Will do." James said, saluting me back.
"I have literally never seen you this excited before." Albus said, now properly staring at James.
"Well you haven't heard the best." James told Albus. "And you are sworn to secrecy on this—I mean it, like ninjas, secret, not like fifth-year secrets which is still a secret if you tell and then swear the other person not to tell. This is classified information."
"Yes, yes, I promise." Albus said hurriedly. "I want to know what has happened to get you this way. Seriously. You weren't this happy when Sera agreed to go out—" Albus stopped talking. His eyes widened as his mouth fell open. "Merlin. I know what you did."
"How could you possibly have guessed that?" James demanded. "How could you—I didn't even tell Louis, and Louis practically lives inside my head—"
"Where do I live?" Louis demanded as he sat down next to me; I glanced at him, surprised, and he flashed me a familiar smile before looking back to James. "Because last time I checked, your head, while big enough that I have begun to fear that we will need to get a larger doorway to our dormitory, is not yet big enough to live in."
"I am in too good a mood to rise to that bait." James told Louis.
"Merlin's Magical Panties." Albus murmured. "You didn't." He shook his head.
"What didn't he do?" Louis demanded, looking from James to Albus.
"No, it's something I did that Albus can't believe I did." James said, nodding.
"What?" Louis demanded, looking back to James. James grinned, and Louis stared at him.
"Are you grinning?" He demanded.
"Maybe." James said. "Maybe not."
"Seamus is going to kill you." Albus said shortly to James. "You're going to die. I'm going to be the oldest Potter." He looked to me. "Will you still date me if I'm the oldest Potter?"
"Why is Seamus going to kill James?" Louis asked, looking to Albus. He looked back to James. "What'd you do? Do I need to beat you up? You know I would if you did something stupid to Sera."
"Yes, because I'm never protective or thoughtful to Sera." James retorted, frowning at Louis. Louis shrugged. James's grin returned, and the intrigue on Louis's face multiplied as he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing on James.
"Someone tell us what's happening." Fred said irritatedly from Albus's other side; he put his forearms on the table, pushing himself up.
"Last night," James began, and I stared at him, even as his grin seemed glued to his face. "I gave Serafina Finnigan a promise ring and she accepted." I heard my breath catch, as did Louis's; Albus folded his arms on the table before him and put his head there, and Fred just gaped at James.
"Are you kidding me?" Louis demanded after a minute of silence that pressed in on all sides. "You proposed?"
"Promise ring." James said carefully. "I neither have the money to buy a ring nor the inclination to get married before we turn at least, what, nineteen?" He shrugged. "Nineteen." Pause, pause, James's grin returned. "But yes."
"Forget Sera's Dad—Wes is going to kill you." I said after a second.
"You're getting married to my best friend and you didn't think to tell me?" Louis demanded, his voice low and angry; I glanced at Louis. He was scowling darkly at James, who looked, for the first time in my knowing him, genuinely surprised. "Are you fucking with me, James? How many times must we play this over before you get the message that I get at least a moment's warning before you make big moves with Sera?"
"It's our life." James said after a moment, and the word our combined with the singular life was a clear slap to Louis, though I'm not sure that was the way James meant it; the hurt had already registered on Louis's face.
"You're my fucking best friend, James." Louis hissed. "She's my fucking best friend. We've played out this plot every year since first year—you never learn—"
"Cool down." Albus ordered across the table, frowning now at Louis; I glanced at Albus, exhaling shortly. He'd obviously caught how completely blindsided James was by Louis's anger, if he felt like he had to come to his brother's defense. "I get why you're pissed off but this is his life." Louis pushed himself up from the table, stepping over the bench and exiting the Great Hall. We watched him go, until James cleared his throat; I looked to him.
"What the hell?" Fred asked after a second, and I shook my head. That'd been weird. I glanced at James and Albus; they were trading dark looks, the first time in a while that I'd seen the Potter boys look conspiratorial, together.
"What's going on?" I asked, my eyes narrowing at James and Albus. James frowned at me.
"Go away." He told me bluntly. "You're not family." I felt the hurt on my face before I processed the feeling itself; when I did, it hit me fast and hard. I'd never been excluded by Albus and Fred for not being family. And, it occurred to me, the reason it hurt so much was because I did consider Fred my family; I lived with him on breaks, for God's sakes. "None of your business."
"Are you fucking with me, James?" Albus hissed at his brother, even as Fred drew breath to jump to my defense; I swore, sometimes the boys were really endearing, for all their antics. "I just defended your choice to propose to Sera to Louis—you either start being nicer to Molly or stop coming to me for help. I'm your brother, not your keeper. I don't have to side with you all the time. I do that out of loyalty, but you'll quickly lose that if you keep behaving this way."
Silence fell on us before James looked to me. "Apparently you're family too." He said, raising an eyebrow. Too—did that mean in addition to Sera becoming family?
"Congratulations on your engagement." I told him dryly, the only thing I could come up with to say. "Care to share why Louis freaked out?" James didn't say anything, only held my gaze levelly, and I glared at him after a moment, before I looked to Albus. Al shook his head at his brother, a disgusted look on his face, before he looked to me.
"Louis Weasley and my brother are both in love with Sera." Al said; his response was concise, even if it did blow my mind. Louis Weasley was in love with Sera Finnigan. Still. James and Sera had been practically together since first year, as I understood it, even if their official relationship started their fifth year.
"Still?" Fred demanded. "But—"
"Still." Albus said, shaking his head. "It's kind of an on-going terrible thing." He looked to Fred. "Thank you for not being in love with Molly." He said dryly.
"She's mean." Fred complained, pouting.
"More like you're a whore." I told Fred, snorting in laughter. I looked to James. "You should go apologize."
"You're kidding." James said after a moment, his voice flat, his eyes darkening. "This coming from the who holds grudges longer than—"
"You have no idea what I do." I said to him shortly. "You don't know me. You don't even really know how close I am to your brother. Don't pretend otherwise."
"I'm not apologizing to him." James snapped. "It's time he got over her—"
"Oh, okay then—" I said pleasantly, as if that explanation made sense; I quickly switched to back to my angry tone as I continued. "But maybe it's time that he stop being best friends with such an asshole that he can't even suck up his pride and apologize for not telling him about his promise ring for Sera." I stared at James. "You got the girl, James. It's time that you throw Louis the consolation prize of an apology."
James stared at me. "What the fuck are you doing in my life?" He demanded. "You were Rose's best friend—a nobody—and now you're ordering me around. What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"If you weren't so self-centered, dear cousin," Fred said mildly, "you'd know that Albus has been pathetically pining over Miss Molly since our third year." He pressed his lips together looking to James. "You're not doing too hot with relatives, today."
"Shut up." James muttered to Fred, glancing to Albus, then to me.
"Go apologize to Louis." I urged.
"I hate you." James told me flatly.
"Fuck off, James." Albus murmured, looking up at his big brother. "Get away from me. Don't come back until you apologize to Molly." James gaped at Albus, and tense silence stretched between the Potter boys before James shoved himself up. He sulked down the table, slipping out of the Great Hall in such a terrible mood that I could nearly see the storm cloud above his head.
"I'm sorry." Albus said to me after a moment; I glanced at him.
"Why?" I murmured. "Your brother and I don't get along. That doesn't mean anything. We're basically the same person. Hence, our difficulty."
"You're a lot less of an asshole than James." Albus corrected tiredly, grabbing the pitcher of Pumpkin Juice and refilling the cup James had emptied. He finished, putting the pitcher back down on the table after a moment, harder than necessary. "We're brothers, but seriously, he's a pain in the ass." Albus's words were low, but I heard the hurt behind them; I winced on his behalf, glancing to Fred. Fred nodded, and I raised my eyebrows, looking down at my empty plate. I was surprised at what had just happened, on several levels. Principally, Al had just defended me to his brother. And I knew Albus; he took his brother's opinions seriously, even if he did not always act that way. The fact that I'd come out on the winning side of that must have caught James off guard.
It certainly had me.
A/N: A superspecial end note (and ixamxeverywhere gets props for guessing at this): the next chapter is huge. Huge in the way that things in it have to do with the end of the story, huge. Huge like chapter 21 huge. HUGE. (PS, rereading that, it occurs to me that sounds like the next chapter is the last chapter; that is NOT the case). So get pumped.
: )
Love and hugs to my reviewers. xo.