Long chapter ahead readers. Hope you enjoy it!
Year Seven: Winter 1967
Molly could think of a million other things she would rather be doing than attending Slughorn's Christmas party. But he cornered her one afternoon following her Potions lesson, praising her Blood Replenishing Potion loudly enough for the rest of the seventh year class to hear. It was at this moment that he also informed her that he'd taken the liberty of securing Healer Orlo Craft, who was Director of the Potions and Plant Poisoning Floor at St. Mungo's, for his holiday soiree. As she finished packing up her ingredients and tried edging her way to the door, Slughorn went on about teaching Craft some number of years ago, and how he would be delighted for the two of them to meet.
He jumped at the chance to attend once I told him that you could likely outbrew him.
When she told Arthur this, he was positively thrilled for her.
See Molls! Now that someone else has said it, will you believe that you're brilliant?!
She supposed she didn't have a choice but to believe it. Just as she didn't have a choice but to brave an evening of conversing with Orlo Craft about healing remedies. The only thing that kept her from being sick with nerves was the notion that Arthur would be going along with her. Of course, Slughorn seemed a bit unimpressed by her choice of guest, but he tried to keep his disappointment to a minimum.
I must say, I am surprised you've chosen to bring Mr. Weasley. I would've thought you would select someone a bit more...industrious.
Arthur's quite industrious outside of Potions! She found herself defending him hotly. How could the man honestly believe that a deficiency in one subject meant someone was lacking altogether?
Well I'm sure. Although he might not go so far in the Ministry without a passing NEWT in Potions. Still though, I doubt they look at that sort of thing within the Muggle Departments.
Molly was about to object that she thought Arthur would likely do better work in the Ministry than some others who'd been there for years, but she knew that sort of thing wouldn't be appreciated. Slughorn obviously thought very highly of her, enough to gush about her abilities to one of Mungo's top Healers. She couldn't jeopardize that by seeming ungrateful. She merely bit her tongue and whisked out of the dungeons without another word on the matter.
Two weeks later, Mary was watching Molly get ready for the party in their dormitory. She lounged on her stomach, flipping page after page of Witch Weekly magazine. Occasionally Mary glanced up when Molly asked her opinion on something, or she'd toss a comment out from the magazine article she was reading.
Standing in front of a dusty, square mirror that hung beside her four poster bed, Molly bunched up the top half of her hair in a poof. She began pinning it in place while asking Mary, "What you think?" Two hairpins poked out of the corner of her mouth while she turned her face side to side.
"Very nice, Molls," Mary replied with an agreeable nod.
Molly then brought out her wand to smooth out the kinks of her wavy tresses that fell past her shoulders. It was a heat relaxing spell Mary pulled out of Witch Weekly ages ago. The girls had taken to trying out the various styling spells over the years, keeping them stowed in their bedside tables. This one had been a favorite. As her waves straightened, Molly then flicked her wrist in an outward fashion so that the ends curled out. She then did a simple enchantment to her eyelids; sweeping dark strokes of black eyeliner that came out like cat eyes with a faint lavender tint to her lids. It doubled as practice for Transfiguration where they had to transfigure their appearance temporarily. But she took a tube of iridescent, rose lippy and dabbed it on her lips. At least something lovely would remain once the magical makeup wore off, and she returned to her usually plain self.
Satisfied with her newly altered appearance, Molly's hands came down over the front of her long sleeved, red babydoll dress with golden flowers printed on it. The square neckline and goldenrod belt that wrapped around her middle generously complemented the top half of her body. She then reached for a box inside her drawer that housed the few pieces of jewelry she owned. The gold band with the lion's head clasp she fixed around her wrist, and she shoved a pair of beaded earrings that looked like stained glass seashells clustered together in her earlobes. They belonged to her mother, and were a gift for her seventeenth birthday.
Boys get the pleasure of a watch, and you already have one of those anyway. I know this is less practical but...every lady deserves at least one trinket to make her feel pretty. I bought Rose a pair as well. Nothing quite like this, I don't really see her in anything beyond a set of pearls. Of course if you don't like these...I can buy you…
No Mum. They're nice.
Your father gave them to me shortly after you were born.
Molly hadn't known what to say whenever her mother told her this. But the gift felt even more beautiful somehow knowing they held a sort of sentimental value. Smiling back at herself in the mirror, Molly felt somewhat lovely for once.
But this brief realization was clouded by the darker reality. One that she was able to forget about as long as there were assignments to complete and exams to prepare for. One that she would have to shove to the back of her mind again for the remainder of the evening, so she could carry on a conversation with one of Mungo's most talented Healers. But for a moment, her mind slipped back to the harshness of what she would face whenever she returned home.
Her father's owl had been cryptic, stating that their Aunt Lucy would meet them at King's Cross to collect them before they began their holiday break. When Molly pressed for more information about her mother's status, he only indicated that she was home and recovering from her treatment in Minsk.
Her Aunt Lucy was no better in relaying information to her. She's as well as to be expected, she wrote. It was only Aunt Tessie who seemed to be willing to disclose more than half the truth to her. And even then, she didn't half all the facts, having only passed through the Prewett House on her way to her next writing assignment. She's responding to the treatment, but there are some noticeable differences in her personality. You ought to prepare yourself as best you can.
Molly felt a knot in her stomach anytime she thought of returning home. The winter break ought to have been one of relaxation and recuperation before her toughest term yet. But she had doubts they would be everything but relaxing, once she saw her mother again.
"Molly?" Mary's questioning tone, startled her from her thoughts. "Everything ok?"
Clearing her throat, Molly nodded before slowly pivoting with her arms extended to the side, "Think I'll do?" Her mouth twitched at the corners.
Mary's eyelashes fluttered rapidly as she gushed, "Arthur'll go mad from having to keep his hands off you."
"Oh stop," She felt chortle rise up in her voice, cheeks blushing at this comment. Molly slipped on the brown slingbacks with kid heels that were a bit dull from frequent use. She pointed her wand at them to use a shining charm, and immediately the brown leather looked good as new.
"I always loved that dress," Mary commented lightly.
Molly shrugged, stowing her wand inside the belt, just above her right hip, "It's nothing...I mean it's just an old thing, really."
"Well you look lovely," Mary complimented lightly before flipping to the next page in her magazine.
"Thanks," Molly smiled through heavy lids. "Don't wait up for me. I suspect this thing will draw out."
"Have fun!" Mary called as she departed for the common room.
Her heart hammered anxiously, and her legs felt rubbery. What would Arthur think? She wasn't one for doing herself up like a Christmas Tree. And he seemed to like the way she looked without all this extra flash. Would it be too much? Would he find her less appealing somehow now?
She felt like she might collapse from the bubbling anxiety inside of her. That was, until she came round the corner of the spiral staircase, and saw him waiting just as anxiously on one of the stone benches near the front of the portrait hole.
Arthur's knee bounced up and down as he sat with his back pressed against the cold, stone wall. Both of his palms came together in his lap, and he kept shifting forward and back to catch a glimpse of Molly. She'd be descending the stairs any moment now.
He checked the face of his watch. It had a brown leather band, and roman numerals around the pearly white face. Unlike Wizarding watches that had multiple hands, accounting for a multitude of elements that comprised up time, this one was simpler. Mary had explained to him how Muggles kept time the minute his parents gifted him with it at the beginning of last term, and it seemed far less complicated than their method.
A lot of things with Muggles seemed far less complicated than their way of life. But this simplicity didn't stop Arthur from asking questions about things he was supposed to take at face value "just because that's how things were."
If he was remembering correctly how to read a Muggle watch, then his indicated that they still had plenty of time to make it to the dungeons where Slughorn's party was being held.
Arthur tugged at his purple and orange paisley bowtie about seven times and kept straightening the front of his burgundy dress robes. A couple of people who were departing to their dormitories or heading out to enjoy the snowy grounds, commented on his attire, "Looking smart, Weasley!"
Or in the case of Gideon and Fabian, who cat called and whistled at him.
"Aren't you a bit of a dish, Artie boy?!" Fabian teased, playfully smacking the side of his face.
Arthur instinctively swatted his hand away, grumbling, "Oh come off it, Fab."
Gideon laughed heartily at this, "Fab...Molly'd kill you for flirting with her boy."
"Oh piss off you!" Fabian shoved his brother in the shoulder. "What's the special occasion for anyway, Artie?" He gestured towards Arthur's outfit.
"Slughorn's do, yeah?" Gideon finished before Arthur could offer up a response.
"Yeah," Arthur replied simply, flashing a quick smile.
"Ahh...Molly's dragging you along with her then?" Fabian supplied with a wry sort of grin, crossing his arms in front of himself.
"Well...it might be fun," Arthur commented lightly with a shrug.
In fact, part of him was a bit jealous that if it weren't for Molly, he likely wouldn't be able to go. So he looked at this opportunity with enthusiasm, whereas most other students (such as Molly) looked at it with dread. But he heard Slughorn had some old Ministry connections, so the opportunity to put himself in front of them was a great one. He had to stomach his pride in not procuring an invitation himself, and make the most out going as Molly Prewett's guest.
Both twins snorted at him. They eyed one another with slanted glances, brows half raised. Their mouths twisted, off to the side, upward into a sort of grin, and then downward into a frown. It was a Prewett thing for he'd caught Molly doing it too from time to time.
Fabian then deadpanned at Arthur, "Doubt it."
"Yeah…" Gideon snickered with a look of disdain, "...not even Clio could convince me to…"
Fabian taunted, "Clio didn't even ask you!"
"She would have!" Gideon shoved him back, pointing an accusatory finger at his twin, "If you hadn't joked about switching places when we had a date set…"
Wrenching his brother's hand off of him, Fabian chuckled, "It was a valid point!"
Rolling his eyes and crossing his arms in front of him, "You're a total wanker for saying it. Now she's off with that Leftwich bloke..."
"Clio Jones?" Arthur prompted, recognizing the name of a third year Ravenclaw girl with midnight hair and striking blue eyes. Clio was starting Chaser and responsible for two of the team's goals before the end of the last series. Arthur felt a bit bitter about the whole thing, but also felt a sort of admiration for her skills.
"Yeah," Fabian confirmed before lifting his voice mockingly, "Gitty Gideon here is sweet on her."
"Oh fuck off Fab!" Gideon swatted at his twin who dodged out of the way, and practically pranced on his way out of the common room.
Arthur chuckled to himself as he watched the twins chase after one another. They were always good for a laugh. He wondered if Molly knew about Gideon's infatuation with Clio. Probably. There didn't appear to be many secrets between the Prewett siblings.
But Arthur didn't have long to ruminate over this, because at that precise moment, Molly was slowly walking towards him. The sight of her took his breath away and caused his heart to momentarily cease beating.
The long sleeved dress she wore was cut off just above her knees and complemented the top half of her figure nicely. Her hair had been styled in a fancy manner. And she'd done up her face with makeup that accentuated her heavy lidded eyes and brought out the softness of her lips.
He stood swiftly and walked over to meet her. His hands found hers instantly, and he couldn't help but gush while looking her up and down, "Wow Molls, you look…" His brain was failing him as he studied her.
She brought her arms out to the sides, swinging his while she wrinkled her nose and offered, "It's too much, isn't it?"
"No…" He insisted, feeling his heart leap to the back of his throat while he finished, "...no, you look...beautiful."
His face suddenly felt hot, and her cheeks flushed to match his dress robes. He'd never looked her in the eye and said that to her before. She must have realized this too, because both of their gazes darted apart almost instantaneously.
He saw her mouth do that Prewett thing, and felt her begin to pull him towards the entrance of the common room. "Come on then," She insisted, pretending to be wholly unaffected by his words. But from the way she beamed the whole way down to the dungeons, he knew they meant something to her.
Streams of gauzy, gold tulle swooped across the ceiling in a crisscross fashion, giving off the impression that they weren't in one of low ceilinged dungeons, but rather a tent. Garland infused with singing fairies and berries wrapped around the pillars that stood throughout the room. Tapers of endless burning candles floated above their heads, giving the room a soft lit glow. The smooth, melodramatic melody of a hired string quartet played beneath the hushed vibrations of several conversations taking place at once.
Molly stood in front of Healer Craft near the roaring fireplace that danced with red and green flames. He was a tall, bald wizard with olive skin and bright emerald green eyes. He was of medium build, and had to stoop forward to hear her above the chatter. That, and he admitted fairly early on in their exchange that he lost most of his hearing in both ears due to a potion experiment gone wrong. As a result, every time, he expected her to answer one of her questions, it looked as though she was whispering into his ear with her arms casually folded around herself and a self-refilling flute of champagne dangling between two fingers. After several moments of asserting her abilities were as good as Slughorn made them out to be, he began to ramble about how demanding the training was.
"The first four years are the toughest really," He informed her in between bites of canapes he stacked on a plate. "You'll be required to complete advanced training as it relates to healing practices and principles, and then choose a speciality after a year. You'll continue studying while working on low profile admittees. Basic things like broken bones...infected cuts and scrapes...the like." He shrugged, and popped a sushi looking canape in his mouth. "And then…" He continued on while chewing on the food, "...you'll move onto the more complicated stuff. Healing jinxes and curses...poison reversal…"
Molly waited for him to finish, nodded, and then asked, "And is the training…" She paused as he leaned forward to hear her, "...the training is it particularly expensive?"
She suspected from the steady decline in her father's business and the experimental treatment her mother received in Minsk, this could pose a problem for her. Better to know now than to get all worked up about training that wasn't feasible.
"It's taken out of your starting wage. You'll have around ten sickles, fifteen knuts left over when all is said and done."
Unsure of whether or not this was a decent wage, Molly merely nodded and took another sip of champagne.
Just then, an eager sixth year called Nott, sidled up beside them. He bumped roughly into Molly, making her slosh champagne onto her shoes. She jumped back to avoid it splashing down the front of her dress.
"Steady on now, steady on now," Craft boomed in a half sort of chuckle.
"Excuse me?" Molly scoffed in disbelief, her mouth dropping open as she gaped at Perrin Nott.
"You aren't the only one interested in the healing arts, Prewett," He acknowledged her with a bored expression. Jerking his thumb at her while he regarded Craft he remarked sarcastically, "Does Mungo's have a female quota they have to maintain annually? If so, I hope you're not considering…"
"Oh I'm sorry, what was that?" Craft bent forward, expecting Nott to repeat his words.
But Molly wasn't about to let him humiliate her in front of Healer Craft, not when she knew Nott was merely invited to this soiree on account of his surname and a long family line of Slytherin's.
"Well I'm sure I have a fair shot, if they allow idiots like you to practice!" She shot back rather loudly, her words slicing through the hush murmur of polite indoor conversation. Several head's turned in their direction, a few faces gawking in disbelief. Molly's cheeks felt inflamed, and she forced a glare in Nott's direction.
Nott returned her look of irritation while Healer Craft laughed a bit anxiously while eyeing both of them, "I still see the old rivalries between Gryffindor and Slytherin are still intact." A few others in the surrounding clusters of conversation snorted, and then the low rumbling of multiple conversations continued.
Craft appeared to be enjoying the attention Nott was giving him, so Molly took this as a sign that their time together had concluded. Gracefully she turned on her heel and maneuvered through a few clusters of students chatting with Slughorn's honored guests and found a table lined with towers of mini desserts. She popped a round chocolate ball in her mouth, the tangy, fluffy sweetness of raspberry cake flooding her mouth. Her eyes scanned the room for Arthur, but she didn't have to look very far.
He was striding over towards her, his hands gripping the front lapels of his dress robes. "All right, Molls?" He greeted her with a flash of a smile.
"Yeah, you?" She wondered, watching as his eyes lit up whenever he recognized a white cake topped with shaved, pink coconut ice.
He shrugged before shoving the small square of cake in his mouth. After chewing thoughtfully, he remarked, "Auror bloke seemed to think anyone who doesn't go into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wasn't worth his time. Honestly, I don't know what Slughorn sees in that fellow."
Molly felt his disappointment dig into her chest. Frowning up at him, she shot him an apologetic look.
"Ahh…" He shook his head, flipped his hand, and indulged in another cake. Once he finished this one, he added cheerily, "Seems like you're having a nice time though."
She lifted her shoulders and rolled her eyes while recounting the story about Perrin Nott. Taking another sip from her champagne flute, she popped another chocolate raspberry cake ball into her mouth.
"What a shit," Arthur glanced over at Nott who was clearly thinking himself rather self-important at present.
"It's fine," Molly mumbled rather dryly with a twitch of her lips.
The whole evening had turned out better than she anticipated. Even with the Nott incident, she felt like her conversation with Craft went well. Still, she'd much rather spend time alone with Arthur than have to continue to mingle among their peers. To talk about the future, to make plans when things were still uncertain back home, didn't feel right.
She'd much rather curl up in the common room on a settee beside Arthur until the buzz from the champagne lulled her to sleep. But even she knew this sort of release from reality was only temporary. When vivid dreams overtook her and startled her awake, she was reminded of what awaited her back home. At least Arthur hadn't been frightened away from her erratic night terrors.
Not yet, at least. That unpleasant voice rang through her head, and she downed more champagne in an effort to silence it.
"Molls?" Arthur regarded her a bit warily.
A rather bold idea struck her at once. Whether it was because she didn't want to be the sad, grieving girlfriend or because of the champagne she'd been liberally sipping, Molly seized hold of his forearm and whispered excitedly, "Let's go somewhere!"
Blinking back in reply, Arthur sounded perplexed, "Where?"
"I dunno," She shrugged before daringly snatching another flute of champagne from a nearby server. Depositing it into his hand, she grinned, "Anywhere but this stuffy hole."
"Molly…" He marveled at her audacity, but the twinkling in his sky blue eyes was enough to give her courage to continue with this ruse. "Wha-what's gotten in…?"
She seized his hand, and dragged him along the perimeter of the room before he could finish the thought. As he started to offer up another protest, she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "Just act natural."
They ducked behind a tapestry depicting a medieval banquet scene right before Slughorn turned round to face their general direction. As they stood close together, Molly peeked around the edge of the tapestry to see Slughorn's face becoming redder by the minute. His eyes were dancing merrily around the room, slightly unfocused. Now was the time for them to sneak away.
Her grip tightened around Arthur's hand, and she tugged him purposefully out from behind the tapestry before scurrying towards the great wooden door that would take them back out into the castle. The cold air from the corridor hit her in the face, and she suddenly felt free.
They stumbled about the castle, their self filling flutes of champagne continuously giving them more liquid courage to continue indulging in to fuel this act of rebellion. At first Arthur thought Molly was mad for suggesting such a thing. But the more champagne that tickled the back of his throat and warmed his belly, the more thrilling the idea became.
Those revellers at Slughorn's obtained special permission to be out after hours. However, this only extended to the reveller's intent on making their way back to their respective common rooms. But Molly wanted to see the fifth floor corridor, mournfully remarking it would be their last chance to do so.
He couldn't deny her this small request if it brought you any ounce of joy these days, even if it meant going out of bounds. Her high pitched giggles rang throughout the air as she practically ran up the stairs to the main drag of the corridor. Arthur stumbled along after her, splats of champagne littering the floor. Finally, she settled down upon seeing the illuminated snowflakes hanging and twirling about overhead. Above the window arches that overlooked the corridor snow covered garland hung. Bundles of mistletoe sprouted as they strolled passed at a slower pace now.
Arthur watched her awestruck expression as she took in the decorations, taking another sip of champagne.
"Molly Prewwett…" He couldn't help but breathe out with a sort of reverence.
Turning to face him, she quirked a brow, "Yes?" Her eyes danced with a drunken mirth that nearly made him laugh out loud.
"I'm sssurprised at you...y'know," He tried to keep his voice firm and steady, but a light chuckle was beginning to creep into his words. "Nicking ccchampagne from the Potionsss'Master. Sneaking out of bounds. What'll be next?"
She hummed amusedly at this, her mouth curling over the rim of her glass. She was about to take a sip and then thought better of it. Instead, she pressed her hand into his chest and practically shoved him until his body hit the back of a stone pillar.
"Molly what are you…"
But just them she gripped him around the neck and forced his mouth down onto hers. Their teeth clinked together painfully, prompting them both to pull away from the short lived kiss.
"Sssorry," She giggled with a sheepish grin.
Arthur brought a hand up to his mouth, gingerly touching his front teeth with his tongue. "You're...sloshed," He remarked with a crooked smile.
"Fab and Gid...aren't the only...Prewwett's...with a...a nauughty streak," She swayed from side to side, hiccuping every so often as she said this.
Slowly shaking his head, Arthur brought his arms around her waist and drew her close to him. "What am I...to do...to do with youu...Molly Prewwett?"
Smirking up at him, her arms wrapped over his shoulders, and she replied daringly, "Kissss me...Arthur Weasssely."
"Weassely?" He questioned, biting on his bottom lip to stifle another peal of laughter. "Heavenss...we ought to…" He belched lightly here, "...take you back...to the common room."
"Noo! No, no no…" She whined like a petulant child, lightly swatting at his chest now. "I want...I want you to kisss...mee."
"Mollyy...you're drunk," He argued softly, his fingers rubbing soothing circles across her back. But his fingers dug into her back and his head angled forward in a way that suggested he too was loose enough to just give into her demands.
Apparently though, the moment of intimacy was shattered as she argued hotly, "I'm not!" She pulled away from his hold. "If I was...could I...do...thisss…" She then went about walking in a rather jagged line with both of her arms outstretched to her sides. Once she made it to the opposite side of the corridor, she turned swiftly on her heels, nearly losing her footing but catching herself before she took a tumble.
He merely shook his head as she stood up straight again with a proud expression, her hands planted firmly at her hips. A sudden crash startled both of them as she dropped her champagne glass and it shattered against the stonework floor.
"Oops!" She clapped her hands over her mouth, but a never ending trill of giggles erupted from her, echoing through the corridor.
"Molly shh!" He hissed at her, lunging forward to grab hold of her before her laughter could carry too far and give away their position.
Arthur pressed a finger across her mouth, and she grinned up at him a bit deviously. He was glad to see her so happy, but he didn't really fancy being caught.
Planting a clumsy kiss at her forehead, he suggested quietly, "Let'ss go back…"
"No, let'ssit," She wobbled over to a nearby stone bench in between two suits of armor that were dressed up with Father Christmas hats. Once she flounced down on the surface, she beamed up at him and patted the empty space beside her.
"Okayy," Arthur reluctantly agreed, taking the seat beside her.
She immediately wrapped her arms around his one, cradling his hand in between both of hers. "Arthurr…" She dragged out, her eyes glassy behind heavy lids.
"Yes, Molls?"
He drained the current champagne from his glass before taking a few more sips once it refilled. Arthur then set it down on the end of the bench. He would need a bit more liquor coursing through him in order to face whatever this conversation would entail. He was sure of it. If Molly sensed this, she didn't let on whenever he turned back to face her, waiting for her to continue her train of thought.
Leaning into him, she remarked a bit dreamily, "Call me the other one."
"What?" His brow furrowed at this unexpected turn of phrase.
She of course, expected him to know precisely what she meant. Clinging to his arm, she was now practically whining once more while trying to explain, "The other one...the name...the...you know...the secret one." Her last words were a raspy whisper that anyone passing by them could've heard.
But then it dawned on him. "Oh...Molly-wwobbles?"
"Mmm…" She purred, placing her chin atop his shoulder. "Call me that," She whispered in his ear.
Chills shot down his spine as he felt the warmth of her breath dance down his neck. "Okayy…" He angled his face to the side, so that he might meet her expression. "What iss'it Mollywwobbles?"
Her eyelids fluttered heavily, and he saw the glazed over look in her gaze, "What is what?"
Arthur snorted, "Weren't you...sayin' somethin'?"
"Nooo…" She frowned, drawing out the word longer than was necessary.
"Okayy..." He chortled, reaching for his champagne, and downing another glassful.
"Arthur?" She tried again, this time, cupping his cheek in her palm and turning his face back towards her.
"Yes?" Her arched an inquisitive brow, awaiting her response.
"D'you love me?" She sighed, a sort of sad quality beginning to swim in her gaze.
A sharp pain erupted in his heart. His brow furrowed and he frowned while he reached for her other arm with his free hand, "Yes."
She fused her lips together and dared to ask, "Even if Mum dies?"
His heart stopped momentarily and the color drained from his face. It wasn't a question she would dare to ask soberly. It wasn't a question he felt she had to ask at all. It was a question however, that almost instantly sobered him.
"Molly…" He exhaled heavily, feeling the weight of her emotions written across her face inside of his chest.
"Wh-what if I...be-become this sad, pathetic…thing th-that you can't..." She began blubbering, biting on her bottom lip to stop it from quivering.
The pressure built in his chest at the sight of her slowly crumbling in front of him was almost too much. He pulled her forward into a reassuring embrace, murmuring soothingly in between soft kisses at the crown of her head, "Shh...Molly...stop...I love you...no matter what...I told you...I'll always be here…for you."
She shuddered against him, trying to steady her breath. He couldn't stand to see her this way. He couldn't bear the thought of her thinking that he might suddenly stop loving her because she might be going through a difficult time.
"B-b-but…" She tried to protest, but he squeezed her tighter.
"No...no, but's…" He interjected.
"B-but...b-but…"
"No, Molly...no…" Arthur insisted, unwrapping his arms around her, so that he could look her properly in the eye. His hands cradled her soft cheeks, streaked with lines of tears snaking down her face. "How can you…?" He shook his head slowly, feeling an overwhelming sadness spread throughout his heart.
Her red, splotchy face contorted and she looked as though she might start crying again. He wondered if he was just fighting a losing battle against the side effects of the champagne. He wondered if they were making his emotions more palpable as well.
"Molly…" He sighed again, bringing his forehead against hers. Their noses brushed over one another's, his mouth tentatively reaching and then pressing firmly against hers.
He felt her lips tremor, a cry suppressed in the back of her throat. As then her lips parted and she let out a tense breath, relaxing into the kiss. Her hands came up around the sides of his neck and she urged him onward. Arthur inhaled sharply taken aback by the desperate response behind her kisses.
She tasted of crisp champagne mingled with rich chocolate. Her tongue was slick as it skated over his, her lips sticky from the shimmering lippy that now clung to his. After several intense moments, Arthur broke the kiss, licking his lips.
Molly's eyes fluttered open, her fingernails digging into the skin of his neck. He sensed her desperation to hold onto something tangible.
"I love you," He whispered fiercely. "And nothing...nothing could change that."
"How can you…know…that?" She stuttered, eyes widening.
Stroking the high points of her cheeks, his mind raced on how he could possibly get her to believe him. With each passing second, her expression filled with anxiety and twisted with a pain he felt inside of him as well. Even if it was just from the after effects of the liquor, Arthur felt it was his duty to make her feel better.
He blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Because my Patronus. My Patronus, Molly. I can do a Patronus because of you. Because of...because of the-the future I see with you."
Confusion flooded her face, and she blinked back, her tone lifting with incredulity. "Wha-what? Arthur...wha d'ye mean?"
"I mean the happy thought…" He sighed feeling the nerves bouncing around in his chest as he continued explaining, "...the thing that allows me to do a Patronus. It's...I think about...you and me. Together. Forever."
Sentimentality touched her face, softening her puffy features. Shaking her head slowly, she insisted, "B-but that's...not a...memory."
He shrugged, releasing her face and clasping hands with hers. "What are memories anyway?" Maybe it was the champagne talking, but he felt more sober now than he did all night whenever he confessed, "The way I see it, that thought could very well become one."
Well friends, one more chapter left! I want to thank everyone for their support so far, it means so much!
Also, as a creator in this fandom I feel it is important for me to say that I do not stand behind J.K. Rowling's remarks about trans people. One thing I have decided to do is share a charity that supports trans people in the author's note of every chapter I post. I don't know if this is enough, I don't know if it absolves me for my part in participating in this fandom. But just know that my intentions are good and come from a place of trying to raise awareness of these charities as well as to show support to the trans community.
Much love, light, and peace to you all during this uncertain times!
National Center for Trans Equality can be found at transequality "dot" org