Rain smacked against the windows, barring any exit of the house. Margo ran a finger around her chipped china cup full of steaming tea. She watched the trails of steam threaten to envelope her face, but never accomplish anything because of the cross breeze flowing though the house.
"I really would push the point Margo," Molly Weasley stood over her oven, cooking up a small dinner for four people. Margo cleared her throat and lifted the tea to her mouth. She set it back down without taking any in.
"Mum," Margo put a hand over her face. "You're busy enough, I don't want to press in on your time."
Molly spun around from her cooking, "Nonsense! Press in on my time? How could you and Andy ever do that?"
"You might get tired of us, is all." Margo sighed.
"Tired? Never! Oh I hope the day ever comes when I, Molly Weasley, get tired of my family!"
"But, I've not really-"
"Hush. I won't hear you say that ever again. What is your last name?" Molly's eyes flashed defiantly.
Margo removed the hand from her face and looked sadly at Molly, "Weasley."
"Yes!" Molly cmae over and put a comforting arm around Margo's shoulders. "Yes, Weasley. And don't you forget it. Because I won't. Which is why I want you to move in here!"
"Oh, Molly..."
"Don't 'Oh Molly' me with your big, sad, brown eyes! You know it would make me feel better. And, " Molly looked up at the rafers of her mis-matched house. "I think the Old Burrow is pining for the sound of little feet again."
Margo closed her eyes for a moment, and then stared at the wood grain of the table.
"I mean just look at it! If you weren't a member of this family you'd call this table shabby! Shabby? May it never be dubbed so!" Fred slammed down his goblet on the never to be called shabby table.
"Exaclty!" chimed in hs twin George. "Look there! See that particular blueish looking stain?" He lowered his voice and crouched down, "Would you ever call this table shabby? That stain came from a certain two people not watching what they were doing and knocking over Ginny's ink!"
"NOW GEORGE." Fred said, standing to his feet.
"NOW FRED." George said, leaping to his feet as well.
"You weren't supposed to say anything."
"My apologies, but it was too good to keep in."
"But George, now look, you've gone and made me Misses blush!"
Margo reached out her hand and let one fingernail trace the pattern. Then she stopped, "All right Molly, but I'll keep the apartment in Diagon Alley, just in case you get tired of Andy and I."
Molly squeezed Margo's shoulders, "Oh thank you daughter. I was afraid I'd been in this big creaky place alone most of the time!"
"I am expecting to take up some responsibilities."
"Of course, of course," Molly said, brushing Margo's demand off lightly. "Now, go wake up my grandson, we'll have dinner the moment Arthur walks in that door."
Marog pushed her self up slowly from the table, abadoning her tea for more important things.
"I really would push the point Margo," Molly Weasley stood over her oven, cooking up a small dinner for four people. Margo cleared her throat and lifted the tea to her mouth. She set it back down without taking any in.
"Mum," Margo put a hand over her face. "You're busy enough, I don't want to press in on your time."
Molly spun around from her cooking, "Nonsense! Press in on my time? How could you and Andy ever do that?"
"You might get tired of us, is all." Margo sighed.
"Tired? Never! Oh I hope the day ever comes when I, Molly Weasley, get tired of my family!"
"But, I've not really-"
"Hush. I won't hear you say that ever again. What is your last name?" Molly's eyes flashed defiantly.
Margo removed the hand from her face and looked sadly at Molly, "Weasley."
"Yes!" Molly cmae over and put a comforting arm around Margo's shoulders. "Yes, Weasley. And don't you forget it. Because I won't. Which is why I want you to move in here!"
"Oh, Molly..."
"Don't 'Oh Molly' me with your big, sad, brown eyes! You know it would make me feel better. And, " Molly looked up at the rafers of her mis-matched house. "I think the Old Burrow is pining for the sound of little feet again."
Margo closed her eyes for a moment, and then stared at the wood grain of the table.
"I mean just look at it! If you weren't a member of this family you'd call this table shabby! Shabby? May it never be dubbed so!" Fred slammed down his goblet on the never to be called shabby table.
"Exaclty!" chimed in hs twin George. "Look there! See that particular blueish looking stain?" He lowered his voice and crouched down, "Would you ever call this table shabby? That stain came from a certain two people not watching what they were doing and knocking over Ginny's ink!"
"NOW GEORGE." Fred said, standing to his feet.
"NOW FRED." George said, leaping to his feet as well.
"You weren't supposed to say anything."
"My apologies, but it was too good to keep in."
"But George, now look, you've gone and made me Misses blush!"
Margo reached out her hand and let one fingernail trace the pattern. Then she stopped, "All right Molly, but I'll keep the apartment in Diagon Alley, just in case you get tired of Andy and I."
Molly squeezed Margo's shoulders, "Oh thank you daughter. I was afraid I'd been in this big creaky place alone most of the time!"
"I am expecting to take up some responsibilities."
"Of course, of course," Molly said, brushing Margo's demand off lightly. "Now, go wake up my grandson, we'll have dinner the moment Arthur walks in that door."
Marog pushed her self up slowly from the table, abadoning her tea for more important things.