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Word Count - 394
Together
Molly bustled around the kitchen, cooking up a storm. Her eyes were rimmed red, her lips were downturned, and her clothes were hanging off of her, and she still worked on.
Arthur could do little more than admire his wife for that. Too many times over the last week, he'd given into the need to curl up in a ball and cry, to just take a moment to grieve for the life of their son, taken far too soon.
Molly hadn't done such.
She'd been a whirlwind of action since the battle, looking after Arthur, looking after their children. He'd tried to convince her to take a moment for herself and yet, she hadn't.
She'd patted his cheek and carried on.
Before they'd gotten married, many told him that Molly was a dominant force of nature, that she'd walk all over him. He'd known the real truth then, and he knew it now.
It wasn't that Molly was controlling, it was that she cared. She cared so hard, and so much, that she couldn't bring herself to stop, even when she had every right to curl up in a ball and ignore the world turning for a while.
He stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around her shoulders pulling her to a halt.
"Molly, stop," he whispered.
"I can't," she replied, and the words were choked and broken. "If I stop, I'll never be able to start again."
Arthur sighed, and held her tighter. "I won't let you stop for long," he promised. "I'll be here to hold you up. Just… take a moment please."
The first tears slid down her cheeks, and all at once, she pressed against him, sobbing into his neck. Arthur held her tight.
He didn't say it would be alright because it would never be alright ever again. They'd lost their son. But he did tell her that together, they would make it through.
That was how it had been since they were fifteen after all, and it was how it would be until they died themselves.
He knew that he would have to watch her, knew that he would have to pull her to a stop again, because left to her own devices, she never would.
But that was okay. As she looked after him, he'd take care of her.
As they always had. As they always would.
Written for:
Auction - Arthur Weasley
365 - 107. Dominant