Brace yourselves for a long and loaded chapter. Seriously it was sixteen pages long in a Word Doc and almost 8,000 words. Also, sorry for the non-linear storyline. I was experimenting. Sorry if it's stupid.

Year Seven: Fall 1967

"And then there were four," Reg remarked with a lifted brow, his pseudo inauspicious tone ringing through the chatter of just another morning at breakfast in The Great Hall.

"It already feels weird without Rose," Mary spoke up sadly whenever she caught Molly's eye.

Seeing Mary's grey eyes cloudier than usual, Molly focused on lathering as much raspberry jam on her toast as it could hold. They spent their first week in the dormitory without Rose. And while Silvia Marshfellow and Geraldine Podmore were friendly enough with the pair of them, they certainly didn't fill the void that Rose left.

Molly was delighted for her, really. An opportunity to be reserve Seeker at seventeen for a professional Quidditch team was brilliant. But Rose had always been a formidable presence among their group. She was quick with a joke and simply unafraid to make a fool of herself if it meant getting a laugh. She was the one who concocted grand schemes that often resulted in all the fun times they had. If Molly were to describe their group as a living thing, Rose had been the soul. And beyond their group, she meant something more to Molly. Something more that no one, not even Arthur, could fully understand.

Rose was her first friend as a child, her greatest confidant and advisor. She was the one Molly went to when she wasn't particularly sure if an outfit suited her properly. She could always count on Rose to give her an honest opinion, even if it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Rose was the one Molly confided in about her troubles with Travers. And Rose believed her without demanding any sort of proof on the matter. Rose held her whenever she sobbed, told her it would all be ok and that she'd hex anyone who did her any harm ever again.

Rose was the person Molly turned to about her arguments with Arthur, and Rose was eventually the one who came to discover her long-concealed secret feelings for him. Rose was the one Molly whispered to about maybe loving him, about maybe feeling like she could give herself entirely to him. Unable to understand Molly's physical attraction, she knew a thing or two about love, having felt that way about Daphne Rosier. She felt secure enough to confess similarly to Molly all the truths about herself the majority of the world called "ugly" or "unnatural." And Molly accepted her friend in spite of these misunderstood proclivities and saw her for everything else that she was.

It was through all of these things and then some, Rose had grown up to be Molly's sister by choice rather than by blood. To face her final year at Hogwarts without Rose just didn't seem right.

But they promised to write one another as often as possible. And Rose swore she'd make it to the Prewett's for Christmas at a minimum. Molly hoped they weren't just saying those things that people tended to say whenever their life transitioned from one phase into the next. She hoped they were words that would take flight into action.

Sensing her rather gloomy thoughts, Arthur tugged at the sleeve of her robe. She looked over at him and he smiled, "Can I have that next Molls?"

Following his gaze, she noticed him pointing at the silver knife that was currently dripping with jam.

"Sure," She handed it over to him, sliding the jar along with it.

Molly took a bite of the sickly-sweet toast and felt her stomach ache. Soon after, she reached for her cup of tea. The bitterness canceled out the abundantly sweet jam, and her stomach felt steadier. She was just about to suggest that they devise a study plan to best help with their NEWTs (what else was there for them to really talk about on a Tuesday morning?), when the whooshing of wings and screeches of owls filled The Great Hall.

Ringo deposited Arthur's copy of The Daily Prophet into a cauldron sized bowl of cornflakes, not bothering to stop for a treat.

"He's mad at me," Arthur disclosed with a bit of a wry grin. "I sent him to Percy and the journey took a lot out of him. By the time he returned, I had about a week's worth of mail for him to bring me. And apparently a single minced mouse treat wasn't enough in his mind."

Reg snorted at this. Mary flashed a reluctant smile, the glint in her eyes suggesting she thought Arthur was a bit mad for thinking such a thing. Molly smirked over at him, feeling amusement bubble inside her chest. She wasn't entirely sure Arthur believed what he had just said. Not as much as she believed that he was trying to brighten the melancholic mood of the table.

She caught his eye, and he winked at her. The bubble in her chest grew with gratitude. He was wholly unique with his endless positivity. Her hand covered his, and he grinned in mute reply.

Just then, Athos, the Prewett family barn owl, perched on her shoulder and dropped a sealed piece of parchment in Molly's outstretched hand. He nudged the side of her face impatiently, and Molly handed him a dry corner crust of toast.

With that he took off, leaving Molly to read the front address.

"From home?" Arthur peered over at Molly curiously.

Using her forefinger to unseal the letter, she answered, "From Mum it seems." Once she unfolded the parchment, her eyes scanned the contents.

Dear Molly Girl,

I hope term is going well so far. I wanted to see if you might be interested in attending a demonstration with me this coming weekend. Just a march up to the Ministry Gates to showcase a need for Squibs Equal Rights. A couple of the kids from the MMA wanted to come along as well. It's going to be a peaceful display, and I thought it might be nice for you to see them all again. They talk about you often from what Ms. Swindleborn says, so I gather they miss you.

I sent an owl to Rose, but I doubt she'll be able to come with her practice schedule. Speaking of Rose, she was good enough to send the whole season schedule along to Dad and me. I was thinking we could all attend one of the winter matches. The Bats play the Cannons. Dad seems to think the Bats are likely a shoe in, and therefore, Rose might actually get some flight time. You can see if Arthur would like to come along as well. Tell him we say hello.

Please let me know about the demonstration by Thursday. I'll need to send word to McGonagall ahead of time.

Much love to you my girl,

Mum

She then flashed it to Arthur, who took it and read it while she finished up her toast and jam.

"Everything alright?" Mary probed.

Molly nodded, "Yeah, Mum just wanted to see if I wanted to go to an equality demonstration."

"What for?" Reg asked, shoving in another spoonful of cornflakes.

"Squibs Equal Rights," She answered, taking another sip of her tea. She added thoughtfully,
"Some of the kids from MMA are going too it seems."

Mary's brow rose to the middle of her forehead, "Is it safe?"

"Course," Molly shrugged, keeping her tone light while she reiterated this point to a rather worrisome Mary. "It's only a peaceful march up to the ministry entrance."

Arthur finished up the letter, handed it back to her, and asked, "Will you go?"

"I dunno," Molly chewed on her bottom lip, truthfully torn by the proposition. After a moment's thought she decided, "Suppose I'll see if Rose wants to. It's only just…we have so much studying to do. And I only scraped by in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts last year." She frowned recalling the disaster that befell her in her fifth-year examinations.

Reg gaped at her, "Scraped by…you got an Exceeds Expectations on both your OWLs, didn't you?"

Molly glared over at him, "Arthur's brother, Bilius, was telling us this summer that OWLs are nothing compared to the NEWTs. He said the sooner you start studying the better."

"Didn't Bilius get like fifty Outstanding's?" Reg taunted, flicking a bit of milk over at Arthur from his spoon.

"There's not even fifty course options!" Mary exclaimed with a lilt of hysterical laughter in her voice.

"Five. Bilius got five Outstanding's." Arthur corrected, wiping the milk droplets from his sleeve. He bit off a piece of toast before remarking bitterly, "Bloody git waited until the middle of March to start studying too."

Molly shot Arthur a pointed glance, "But he told us that it nearly killed him, didn't he Arthur?"

"Right, but it's the beginning of October, Molly," He reminded her, trying to keep his face soft and his voice even.

But she was beginning to hear traces of annoyance throughout his words. She didn't care. These examinations were far more important than their OWLs had been. They would determine their futures. Why was she was the only one who seemed to care at present?

"Exactly! So, we're eight months ahead of your stupidly brilliant big brother!" Reg chided through a mouthful of cereal. He then hurriedly drained his goblet of pumpkin juice with dramatic flair, "Urgh…time for Magical Creatures. Coming Mary?"

Before she departed, she shot Molly a concerned look and placed a reassuring hand over hers, "Molls…Arthur's right. This isn't a quick sprint. It's a marathon."

Once they both departed, Molly felt Arthur's gaze resting on her. Turning on the bench to regard him with a steely expression, she challenged, "Do you think I'm overreacting?"

Arthur munched slowly on his toast, his brow lifting in mock horror. Once he swallowed, he assured teasingly, "Oh no, not at all, Mollywobbles."

Her brow pinched and she balked, "Mollywobbles? That's a new one."

Resting his elbow against the tabletop, he studied her with a warm expression, "Yes, but I think it is rather fitting."

She pouted slightly, folding her arms in front of her, "And what do you mean by that?"

"Well you know…collywobbles…Mollywobbles…the only real difference is one letter, you know?"

Her mouth twitched as his eyes glittered at her teasingly. "I am not…" She began haughtily, feeling the heat in her cheeks rising, "…collywobbling or whatever you are implying by that, Arthur Weasley."

Continuing to smirk at her, Arthur straddled the bench, reaching around her waist to draw her body into his. "I think it's rather…endearing." He kissed her warm cheek before moving to nibble behind her ear.

"Stop that," She nudged him in the chest with her elbow, her cheeks flushing a more pronounced scarlet and a smile flickering momentarily at her mouth.

He held his hands up in surrender while scooting backward on the bench. Her eyes darted around to see if anyone was paying them any mind. And aside from a few fleeting glances, no one really was.

Even so, she shot him a warning look, "And don't you dare say that in front of other people."

"Our secret," He winked at her again and then stood. "Come on, I've got Muggle Studies. You can walk me there before your Potions lesson." He bent low mumbling in her ear, "Mollywobbles."

Before she could whirl around with her mouth gaping wide, his lips struck the spot behind her ear with a swift kiss. Molly smiled in spite of her earlier protestations. How exciting it was to have a secret just between the two of them.

The next afternoon when both of them had a free period, they stretched out on the lawn. The weather was a bit chilly, but beneath sun's rays it felt surprisingly warm. Arthur sat with his legs spread open, bent at the knees. In between his legs, the current edition of The Daily Prophet resided, and with a lazy flick of his wand, he magically turned the pages. Molly sat with her back against his, legs folded beneath her while she worked on a response to her mother.

Feeling her against him while they were both in their own worlds was a comfort to him. One he didn't know he needed until it happened. That's how things usually unfolded with Molly. Everything they shared was a pleasant and welcome addition to his life that he never knew he needed.

He was on page four, beginning a story about a newly founded werewolf community, seeking to live in prosperity among humans. Their spokesman was a rather fearsome looking man by the name of Fenrir Greyback. Greyback was previously accused for turning several children in both the Muggle and Magical Worlds. It seemed difficult not to make judgements about him, and by extension the rest of the species, when Greyback was staring out of the photograph with a hungry glint in his dark, pitiless eyes with twitching lips that suggested he harbored a blood lust that could only be sated by the most gruesome instincts. Arthur silently hoped the approval would be denied, and they would be forced into a desolate region for everyone's safety.

Molly's strained voice brought him out of the trance he felt while staring at Greyback's image.

"You don't think I'm a terrible person for saying no to her, do you?" Her question was weighed down by a heavy sigh.

Molly had been torn between going to the demonstration her mother was planning and starting their Potions studying that weekend with him. He knew the Potions NEWT would be an easy O for her (even if she didn't believe it herself). And he felt like if she decided against going to her mother's demonstration that she was making concessions for him. And he certainly didn't want that. He wanted her to do what made her happy, which he believed to be going to the march. But in spite of their long conversations regarding this, it appeared she was choosing to spend the weekend with him anyway.

Swallowing back any residual guilt, he knew she was looking for a sort of reassurance only he could give her. Arthur glanced over his shoulder and answered sincerely, "No. There will always be another march. There won't always be school."

He hoped it was the right thing to say without sounding too excited at the prospect of extra time with her.

Molly nodded, the scratching of her quill resuming. She murmured to herself as she wrote, "I'll tell her that I'll go to the next one she plans once we've finished the year."

"Tell her I'll go with you," He remarked automatically.

Her voice lifted, "You will?"

"Surprised at that?"

"No, I just…" Her words died off, her tone morphing into a shy octave, "…never mind."

But it was just enough to spark his curiosity. Arthur turned until his chin rested atop her shoulder and he insisted dulcetly, "Tell me."

He watched her chew on her bottom lip, stifling the slight smile that danced across her mouth. It was a telltale sign that she was holding something back that she wanted to say but was stopped by a pang of embarrassment. "You think…we'll still be…together?"

Arthur watched her mouth twist into a shy half smile, and he mumbled, "Why wouldn't we be?"

The half moon smile curved further, and she nodded as if this was all the assurance she needed.

But something had caused her to doubt, and he couldn't help himself from taunting, "Has someone else caught your eye?"

A ripple of laughter shot through the singular, "No!"

Placing a hand across the outside of her thigh, he remarked calmly, "Then tell your mother, I'll come along too."

Another smile and nod before her quill moved across the parchment again. Her next words were to almost herself, but he caught him anyway, "And I'll make plans to see the kids during winter break."

He turned back towards his paper. He wasn't really focusing on it, but he commented, "Speaking of winter, nice of her to invite me along to the Quidditch match."

"Yeah," Was her distracted reply. Then he felt her head crane over her neck while she told him more purposefully, "Suppose she thinks of you as one of us now."

He smiled to himself at this. He was glad to hear she believed the sentiment to be reciprocated. He knew how his family felt about her. Even spread out across different houses now, they all echoed similar opinions of how wonderful Molly was for him. But he harbored lingering doubts of how things stood between her family and him. To hear that hers saw him as one of them, made him glad. This new buoyancy to his spirits, made him momentarily forget about the trouble in the world and had him suggesting rather brightly.

"We should tell Mary and Reg to get tickets too. If the Bats are playing in Devon, we can all head out to The Prickly Pixie afterward." He mentioned the local pub they'd gone out to a couple of times during term breaks.

"Oh, that'd be nice!" Molly chimed in excitedly. After a moment she added, "Maybe Rose could join too."

He hummed in agreement to show he heard this. It would be nice, a chance for all of them to get together again. To be like it once was before they likely all went their separate ways and hardly heard from one another again. Although he held onto hope that wouldn't be the case for Molly and him.

Refocusing his attention to the news, he finished the article on the werewolf community and was halfway through one about Albanian Giants now living in the Ochil Hills when Molly asked him, "What's today look like?"

She lay down beside him on her stomach, glancing up at him while he began explaining the article about Greyback and his attempt to procure land for a community of werewolves. This sparked some horror and debate among them, but largely they agreed that it was a mad request. And then he started explaining the Albanian Giants and their illegal presence in Northern Scotland.

"But how did they make it over here without anyone realizing what was happening?" Molly wondered with a frown.

"Search me," He shrugged while continuing to scan the article. He then reported, "Seems like the Ministry is now trying to hold some sort of talks with them. They're hoping the end result will be deportation back to Albania."

"Think they'll be successful? Aren't giants dangerous when provoked?"

Arthur shrugged again as to the matter of their success. But they both knew that giants were better left alone than to be toyed with. However, it appeared by their most recent actions that they didn't want to be left alone. And judging by the amount of time the British Ministry spent working with the Albanian Ministry, it appeared they didn't care for what witches and wizards thought. They were going to do however they pleased.

There was a smaller article in the bottom corner of page five, and he brought it to her attention. "Oh, listen to this…several dementors were spotted hanging around Kent. They're believed to be responsible for a group of Muggle suicides. Minister Jenkins is furious with the Regulation of Magical Creatures Department for not acting sooner."

"That's awful," Molly bemoaned, suddenly shifting back to a seated position.

"Yeah. Very troubling."

His stomach tightened at the thought of dementors out on the prowl. They were supposed to be kept in check by the Ministry, but clearly someone was slipping. And for them to be the cause of several suicides…

"But…they'd have to be hanging around for quite some time to cause someone to…" Molly's words trailed off. It was almost like she read his thoughts.

"Right," He agreed before letting out a weary sigh.

"I wonder why anything wasn't done sooner," Molly remarked with a shake of her head, "It just doesn't make any sense."

It certainly didn't. Dementors in Britain were assigned to guard Azkaban. They learned about The Dementor Treaty of 1749 in their History of Magic courses around their fourth year. It was an agreement struck between the creatures and wizards in Great Britain as part of an effort to coexist peacefully. While the dementors were reluctant to follow a treaty set forth by humans, they agreed to it because what they needed for survival was promised to them. Surely that couldn't have suddenly changed. Or perhaps Azkaban had been emptier than usual.

Even so, the Ministry should have better control over these creatures or threaten to drive them away into seclusion. Unless these dementors were not native to this country. Unless they, like the Albanian Giants were seeking something here. And then there was another thought that struck Arthur, if they were not native to Great Britain, the Ministry would have no way of tracking them. And it meant they were relying on a member of the magical community to report such a sighting, which might explain the delay in the Ministry acting.

"Something strange is coming," Arthur told her quietly, closing the paper.

He had had enough gloom and doom from today's report. His eyes landed on hers, and the corners of his mouth twitched as he sought to find a way to ease the nerves bouncing around inside of him. She silently responded with a similar look before turning up her palm and reaching for his hand. Arthur slipped his palm against hers, their fingers locking around one another's.

She didn't say anything. Neither did he. There really wasn't anything they could say. All they could do was be there for one another.

Arthur soon came to regret his earlier words whenever Saturday rolled around. He found himself spending his evening in a way he couldn't have predicted. He sat in his dormitory bed desperately trying and failing to focus on The Weekend Prophet headlines. He couldn't handle the tension that descended upon the fifth and seventh years in the common room. Nor could he take inserting himself between Mary and Reg, who were on the verge of sucking face across their Astronomy books and charts splayed across one of the tables. So, somewhere between reading about Minister Eugenia Jenkins' latest plans to expand the Ministry's Magical and Muggle Relations Department, and the Department Head of Magical Creatures denying a land grant to Greyback's newly formed werewolf community, his thoughts drifted off to Molly. And his heart all too painfully followed.

He saw her wounded face just before she unexpectedly departed earlier that day, and he wished he could offer more than a reassuring squeeze of his hand to her. He wished he could say more than just: Is there anything I can do? Knowing full well that he was powerless to help.

The afternoon had been a combination of frustrations and successes as they practiced defensive spells on one another. This was soon followed by a certain bliss while they lay down on the warm grass. Their hands folded together, kisses stolen in between sweet sentiments and giggles from the teasing jabs they exchanged. But all of these feelings soon dissolved into nothingness whenever McGonagall informed Molly she was to see the headmaster.

She wasn't in trouble, he just wished to speak with her. But a summons to Dumbledore's office meant something very significant had happened. Whenever he saw her return to the common room with Gideon and Fabian, all of them looking exceedingly pale, he understood the meeting was likely unfavorable.

"Mum's in Mungo's," Was all Molly told him, her eyes unfocused and glassy, her tone leagues away.

"Oh Molls," He sighed, reaching for her hand, and squeezing. "Is there anything I can do?"

Not meeting his eye, she shook her head while muttering, "We're going to see her in a bit. I have to pack."

Arthur nodded, feeling his chest constrict from the way her face was folding in on itself. Her head bent forward, lips rolling inward in that way they did anytime she was thinking deeply. And her fingers slipped through his as she made her way up to her dormitory. He remained rooted on the spot, feeling a lump form in the back of his throat while he watched her go.

He should have said more, should have done more for her in that moment. But what else could he do? She needed her family more than she needed him. It would be unkind to be jealous of that.

Realizing that none of the information he was reading would likely sink in, Arthur slid beneath the covers of his bed, and closed the curtains surrounding him with a wave of his wand. He hugged his pillow close to his chest and stared at the photograph of them tacked to the nearest bedpost.

His mother had taken it last Christmas, the pair of them in front of the hovering trees in the corner of their sitting room. One arm wrapped around one another's waists while they smiled at the camera. And then they were moving, her free hand to the center of his chest, their gazes meeting as they continued beaming happily. Karl then zoomed in and out of the frame, prompting both of them to laugh. The loop restarted and they were smiling at the camera once more in their original poses.

How happy they were. Would they ever be this happy again?

He squeezed his eyes shut, praying for sleep and a certain answer to that question.

The Squibs Equality March began as Demelza Prewett intended it to. It was indeed a peaceful display with magical folk from all walks of life banding together to demand better rights for the Squibs within their community. All they wanted was to be seen and heard as valid citizens of their world. Just because they possessed no magical ability shouldn't stop them from being able to find employment or marry other magical folk or even adopt magical children. They were people just like any other with magical capabilities, even if basic humanity was all they had in common.

They made it to the Ministry Gates without any sort of resistance. Signs and banners held overhead (a sign of solidarity since the Squibs present couldn't produce a Hover Charm) while they chanted their demands for justice. Those who possessed wands kept them stowed away. They didn't believe they'd have a need for them. They made a circuit just outside the front gates, protected by a Concealment Charm against Muggles. And they continued on in this fashion for the better part of an hour. Many individuals took turns to step into the center of the circuit and speak out with their own personal experiences. Some spoke out against personal injustices they experienced as Squibs, others shared known experiences relatives or friends experienced. And there were also a few witches and wizards (Demelza Prewett being just one), who called out their fellow witches and wizards to allow these individuals the same, basic liberties that they themselves were afforded. The call for change and for signatures on a petition to take to The Ministry was where it all ended.

As Molly understood it, from those who escaped unharmed and from what The Prophet said, a crowd began to gather about halfway through the speeches. Suddenly a riot broke out, staged by a group of Purebloods. Hexes and jinxes flew through the air, aimed more specifically at the Squibs present. While all the magical folk rallied and sought to protect those unarmed with wands, a scrummage ensued. No casualties were reported (yet), however, several ended up seriously injured.

Yesterday's Prophet reported that it was suspected the Purebloods sought to undermine the peaceful march in order to promote their own insidious agenda. One, who'd been arrested for hexing three Squib children and their mother, shouted: "Blood purity will reign supreme again! You'll see filth! Leach cannot protect you now!"

Minister Jenkins, being a Pureblood herself, spoke out against this group's ideals. She reiterated her desire for equality within the magical community. She reminded folk that she was still moving forward with expanding the Muggle Relations Department and would also form a smaller branch within that department to include positions for Squibs.

"With this latest, unprecedented attack against individuals who have often been viewed as 'lesser,' the need for them to have a voice in government in critical. More so now than ever. And as Minister, I intend to give a voice to these individuals, who have long been unheard."

It appeared whatever the desired outcome the Pureblood group was hoping for, they were rather unsuccessful. At least on the political front. As far as wreaking havoc and personal injury to those present, they had been somewhat successful.

It wasn't entirely clear on what precisely happened to Demelza Prewett during the scrum. But it was apparent that she took multiple curses at once, each inflicting their own insidious damage to a different part of her body. Healers were working nonstop to lift all the malignant magic that coursed through her. So far, their efforts had only been mildly successful.

Molly and her brothers split their time between home and hospital over the course of the weekend. Their Aunt Lucy remained with them and worked on keeping up with things at the house. Her husband, their Uncle Nate, joined them only to sleep at night. Otherwise he was at the hospital with his brother, lending support and bringing along meals and other basic necessities Marvin Prewett required to care for himself.

When Sunday evening rolled around, Professor McGonagall (who originally brought the Prewett children to Mungo's) checked it to see if they would be able to return to school. Mrs. Prewett was deemed alive, but still rendered unconscious and her vitals a bit shaky. Due to the lack of change or stability in her status, McGonagall informed the children that she would return by the middle of the week to collect them, allowing them some additional time with their parents.

The days blended together, and while Molly and her brothers were only spending a handful of hours with their mother compared to the days their father had, they were exhausted. But they set this aside to put on a brave face for him. It was become clearer with each passing day that Marvin Prewett needed others to be strong for him. His initial strength on the matter was beginning to waver, and they could see through the cracks of his usually smooth, put together façade.

His ruddy hair that he took great care in smoothing over, stuck up at odd angles in the back. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and the veins in his temples throbbed a violent shade of purple as he clenched and unclenched his jaw almost continuously. He wore the same, plain clothes until Uncle Nate insisted, he use the hospital shower and wash up. Marvin complied, but he didn't take to shaving. His facial hair grew in patches, giving him a rather wild look. These things that he once took great pride in, he simply didn't care. Fabian tried to convince him that their mother would be horrified when she woke up to find her husband in such disarray, but pretended not to hear him.

He hardly looked at his children. He hardly looked at anyone who was not his wife or the latest group of Healers who bravely took on her case. And even then, he wasn't his usually rational self in listening to their concerns, their prognosis, or their prescribed course of treatment. This mercurial temperament was just another dramatic change Molly saw in her father that made her uneasy.

It was Tuesday when the latest outburst occurred. Demelza had just been given a wash by two witches of the purification staff. The room now emitted notes of lavender and chamomile, likely intended to soothe and ease tensions. Her unconscious form hung suspended inside a glass case where tendrils of glittering green and grey magic flowed in and out of her arms and chest. Her head was outside of this encasement, usually supported by a floating pillow. But Molly undid the Hovering Charm and held her mother's head in one hand while she brought a comb through her dark, wet hair. She worked the comb slowly through the tangles, trying to focus on the task at hand and not stare at her mother's waxen face.

To see her in such a manner felt like a dream. None of it felt real. And yet water droplets trickled across her palm, notes of lavender filled her nostrils, and the tug and snag of a comb trying to untangle wavy hair, all indicated that this was very real.

The latest Healer assigned to the case, Healer Baldwin, was giving a status report to their father just outside the room. And judging by the heated words exchanged, it wasn't going very well.

"What do you mean it's not working?!"

Molly involuntarily jumped at this. The teeth of the comb snagged inside Demelza's chestnut waves, and she lowered her gaze to work through the knot. She then heard him continue irritably.

"What do you mean you aren't sure if you can fix her?! You're Healers! You're supposed to be able to fix anything!" Marvin Prewett went on, waving his arms about between the unconscious body of his wife and the air around him.

"Mr. Prewett, if you will please calm down," Healer Baldwin tried in an even tone, his hands rising up between them like he was gently trying to put space between them.

But this was the wrong thing to say apparently. Marvin Prewett advanced on the man, sputtering so furiously that he couldn't get the words out right. "Ca-calm down?! Calm?! Down?! How dare you tell me to calm down?! My wife is…is…well you can't even bloody tell me what's wrong with her! How am I supposed to calm down?!"

He was very close to brandishing his wand threateningly. If it wasn't for Uncle Nate, who placed a hand on his arm, he likely would have. Molly watched Fabian take three steps toward the door, ready to join Uncle Nate in holding back their dad if necessary. She felt Gideon's shoulder brush against hers as he stood beside her. They exchanged anxious glances before watching the rest of the exchange, both holding their breath.

"Mr. Prewett, we are doing everything that we can," Healer Baldwin continued as calmly as he could, although Molly sensed his patience wearing thin at being accused of not doing enough when he had been in and out of the room nonstop for the last day or so.

Wrenching his arm free from Uncle Nate's hold, Marvin pointed an accusing finger. "Clearly whatever you're doing isn't good enough!"

"Marvin, come on," Uncle Nate tried again, doing his best to insert himself between his irate brother and the healer. "Let's go have a tea," He tried reasonably.

"I don't want a bloody tea!" Marvin rounded on Uncle Nate, his face flaring up hotly. His face scrunched up, and his emotions were slowly bubbling over. His gaze flickered desperately from his brother to his wife through the glass window, and then to each of his children in turn.

When his eyes met Molly's, she felt her brow invert and a painful lump in her throat form. She loved her father deeply, and seeing the hurt so evidently etched across his face was difficult to witness.

He immediately looked down, shaking his head while his voice shook, "I want…I want…I…no. I-I-I…this is unacceptable. Unacceptable you hear!" He finished by roaring at Healer Baldwin again.

Leaning away from Marvin Prewett, Healer Baldwin advised more firmly this time, "Mr. Prewett, if you do not calm down, I am afraid I will have to get security."

"Go on ahead! Go get your security!"

Molly glanced down at the floor, feeling her eyes prickle with discomfort. She wished Dad would listen to Uncle Nate. It was bad enough what had happened with Mum. They didn't need to lose him as well.

"No, please don't Healer Baldwin!" Uncle Nate's desperation came through his words as he tugged on Marvin's arm, pulling him away from the healer. "Please…my brother's just upset as you can see…Marvin…come on." Marvin allowed Nate to turn him around so that they were facing one another, his hands squeezing both of his shoulders as he suggested, "Let's…take a break, ok? You need a break."

"Don't tell me what I need!" But instead of his shouting, Marvin Prewett's voice lost its fervor. It started to crack as he went on, "I'm staying right here! When she wakes up…when she…then I…I have to…"

Fabian moved closer to his Dad and placed a strong hand on his shoulder. He stood at the same height at only fifteen, and Molly felt rather amazed to only just realize this. Gideon was following suit, lingering behind his twin in a show of support. They always seemed to know how to coordinate movements and gestures between one another that made Molly always feel a bit awkward with how she maneuvered through the world.

Fabian asserted in an unusually calm fashion, "We can stay with her Dad. You go with Uncle Nate. Get a tea. Have a rest."

"I…" Marvin blinked back at his son, clearly perplexed by this unusual display of assuredness coming from him.

"We'll get you if she wakes up," Gideon nodded in agreement.

Mr. Prewett said nothing but dipped his head and turned to regard Baldwin, "I want another Healer on this case when I return."

Molly shook her head at this statement, summoning Demelza's pillow, and muttering the levitation spell before directing it underneath her head.

Fabian leaned against the wall beside the door, his arms crossed in front of him. Gideon moved to help Molly arrange their mother's hair against the pillow in a fanned out, halo type fashion. Molly then murmured a drying incantation and the wetness slowly dissipated.

They then sank down on the settee strewn with traveling cloaks that lined one wall of their mother's room. For several seconds, the three siblings remained silent, each in their own worlds. It was Fabian who broke the quiet with a slight quip.

"D'ye think Dad realizes if they replace Baldwin there won't be any Senior Healers left?"

Molly stared up at him dubiously before commenting, "I expect he thought Mum would be home by now. It's likely a shock to him."

"He needs a sedative," Fabian informed her with a slight snort.

Gideon piped up sincerely, "Can we ask for one?"

Molly caught his eye and she shrugged, casting her gaze onto their mother. She let out a deep sigh and told them, "I'll ask Uncle Nate when he gets back."

Another moment of quiet descended upon them. The only sounds to be heard were the quiet whooshing of magical fluids entering Demelza's body, and the tense steady breathing of four people.

"She looks better today, doesn't she?" Gideon remarked hopefully, prompting Molly to smile a bit sadly at her brother.

"Yeah, you'd look better too with a wash and a new hairdo, wouldn't you Gid?" Fabian jabbed playfully.

Molly felt her nerves grate at the lightheartedness of his demeanor. Gideon managed a weak smile, but Molly could see the despondency that ran deep below the surface. This prompted her to counter sharply, "Don't be cruel, Fabian."

"It was a joke, sis," He brought his hands up in midair, his tone straining with a slight nervous laugh.

"A bad one," She replied through tight lips.

"We all can't be morose, Molly," Fabian rejoined.

Feeling displeasure spark inside of her chest she started, "I am not…!"

"Will you two…just…please…" Gideon interjected disjointedly. His brow furrowed and he shot a harsh look between the pair of them, "It's bad enough Dad's acting the way he is without the two of you arguing."

Molly looked down at her hands clasped together in her lap muttering a quiet apology. Fabian glanced off to the side, doing the same before announcing, "I'm going up for a scone. Anybody want anything?"

It was a half-hearted attempt at a peace offering. And it was likely the best she would receive from Fabian in terms of an apology. Relenting to this fact, Molly remarked with a tired smile, "Sure…thanks Fab."

"You bet," He smiled faintly, doing up a mock salute.

Once he departed, Gideon was quick to remind her, "You know Fab always has to try and make people laugh."

"Yeah…" She bobbed her head, remembering it was a sort of defense mechanism within him in handling stressful situations.

They were so alike and yet so different. Both with wild, curly red hair that sat like a mop atop their heads. Freckles splattered the high points of their cheeks, underlining the sparkle of their sugary brown eyes that paled in comparison to Molly's dark, chocolate brown ones. Both of them now a whole head taller than her, only at fifteen years old. Both with beautifully angular heart shaped faces that Molly constantly envied. And yet, their personalities were hardly identical.

Fabian was more outgoing and oftentimes more conspiratorial in nature. Gideon played off of these traits, but they were never quite apart of him independently. He enjoyed a laugh just as much as his brother, but he was also thoughtful where Fabian was impulsive and generally calmer where Fabian's mercurial nature came into play. Even so, they complimented one another's natures, especially in times of high stress.

She was glad to have them as allies in the moment. Particularly whenever her thoughts tended to fall into a morose pattern of thinking. She supposed this was her inheritance from her father. A quiet sort of worrying that bumbled out under immense pressure.

But her dark thoughts and the heaviness that weighed her heart down were there for a reason. She had reason to feel guilty for everything that transpired. And her next words came out as a sort of confession that she knew Gideon would hear without judgement.

"D'ye know, she asked me to go with her? To the demonstration?" Her eyes flicked over to meet his and regarded her with that solemn thoughtful expression that was so like Gideon.

Slowly shaking his head, he mumbled, "No, I didn't."

Molly nodded and took in an unsteady breath. She leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes looking up at the whitewashed ceiling to gather up the convoluted thoughts and emotions that swirled through her.

"I wish I would have," She heard herself admit. Her eyelids forced their way shut as tears stung the back of them. And all the things she knew she could never say came to the forefront of her mind.

She wished she would have gone. She wished she would have been braver. She wished she didn't love Arthur so much to want to spend nearly all her free time with him. She wished she would have said yes, instead of no. Oh how she wished…

Her next words came out in a choked whisper, "Maybe I could have…done something to help…" Her words trailed away, and she moved to lean forward, her face landing in her hands.

She sniffed sharply, trying to dispel the tears away. She had to be strong, she couldn't do this. Not now. Now when their father needed them all to be strong.

Gideon's arm came around her, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. Her hand found his forearm and squeezed it in grateful reply.

"Or maybe…" He ventured softly, the words coming out just as unsteadily, "…maybe you'd be…lying there…instead. Or worse…lying there…right with her."

She would never know for sure. That much was certain.

He was jolted from his deep and dreary sleep by a soft fluttering across his cheek. The gasp nearly escaped his mouth but died against the press of someone's hand. Arthur's heart raced, only slowing when he took in the soft, shadowy glow of a round face with a halo of red surrounding him. Squinting without his glasses and with the dim light of a glo globe, he took in the hazy outline of Molly's face

"Molly…" He breathed out, surprise taking hold of him that she suddenly appeared in his dormitory after being gone for several days. His heart leapt at seeing her, and he immediately scooted up to a seated position, blindly reaching for his glasses on the side table.

Once he placed them on the bridge of his nose, he saw the downcast look on her face. She perched on the edge of his mattress, fiddling with her hands in her lap, not meeting his gaze. The hem of her nightgown lifting well above her calf. She whispered with a sideways look cast up at him, "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, sure," He acquiesced, shifting to make room for her to lay down beside him.

His body vibrated with excitement though he tried to dim it down. There were so many questions bouncing around inside of him, so many things he wanted to know. But he bit down on his tongue, stifling the urge to bombard her with things.

Once under the covers, she curled into his side prompting his arm to lift voluntarily. He slowly lowered it around her, feeling her tremble slightly. "You ok?" He asked, feeling rather dumb doing so, knowing she likely couldn't quantify her feelings at present.

"I'm scared," She admitted in a small voice.

Instinctively he felt his arms wrapping around her and he pressed a kiss against the crown of her head. "It's ok," He muttered back uncertainly, rubbing soothing circles against her arm.

After several moments of just holding one another, she finally spoke up, her voice hollow, "They have to go to a specialty hospital in Minsk."

He wondered why, but instead of blurting out half a dozen questions, he merely aimed to sound interested. "Oh?"

"Yeah. It's…pretty…archaic, dark magic," She explained in between deep breaths. Her voice sounded miles away whenever added, "Not the sort of thing they're used to at Mungo's."

Feeling his mouth twist at the sound of her voice, he remarked, "I'm sorry."

She nodded against his chest, her legs squirming and tangling with his. She exhaled hotly against his shirt front, "Dad's all out of sorts."

Arthur's fingers stroked the soft skin of her outer arm, and he replied quietly, "I'm sure. How-how long have they been married?"

"I think…twenty years or so?"

He nodded before commenting lamely, "Long while."

"Mhm," She hummed in agreement, her body loosening while she leaned into him.

The sound of her breathing became more regular now, the vibrations of anxiety receding. He wondered if sleep was overcoming her. Pressing another kiss at her head, he whispered, "I'll say a prayer that they find a cure."

"Thanks," She mumbled sleepily.

"And you know," He went on softly, "I'm here for you. Always."

A faint murmur of something unintelligible emitted from her, signaling sleep had taken her. Arthur leaned his cheek against her head and closed his eyes, searching for the same promise of oblivion alongside her.

I know at least one of you will call me "evil," or "Satan," and that's fine. There's a reason why everything's happened so far in this fic. Only two more chapters my friends! Eek! Can you believe it?!