Fairytales
Charlie was the first child born into The Burrow. His parents had lived in a Shelter for victims for the months that his mother was pregnant with him. His father had been given a small raise at the Ministry and they were able to make a loan from Gringott's and were able to afford the house in the middle of a vast open field on a rich man's land that they called The Burrow. Charlie had always been fascinated with things. He was never satisfied with simple explanations about why certain things happened the way they did, he always had to ask: Why?
Bill was not a very good playmate for Charlie. As Bill seemed to favor his mother, Charlie favored his dad, for his dad was so much more fun then his mother, who spent all her time cleaning or attempting to cook. Bill steered clear of Charlie because, in his mind, going near Charlie meant going near his father. Whenever Charlie asked his mother why Bill didn't like him very much, she would wrap him in a hug and say to him in her singsong voice "Bill loves you very much. He's just shy."
Of course, Charlie loved his mother as well. He especially loved her when she would put him to bed precisely at eight-thirty. Bill was allowed to stay up until nine if he was quiet. Molly would stroke her son's red hair as he looked up at her with his blue eyes. Then, she would tell him wonderful stories of lands far away. She would tell him of lands where people could ride dragons into the sunset without being afraid of You-Know-Who. She told him of a place where he was allowed to run and play freely and not be afraid of being taken away. Charlie's favorite parts were the dragons.
"Would Bill ride the dragons with me?" he asked her. "Would he stop being shy?"
"Yes." Molly smiled. "Bill would ride the dragons with you."
"I'd like that." Charlie smiled.
"So would I, Charlie." said Molly.
Usually when Molly was finished putting Charlie to sleep, Bill was already in his bed, waiting for her. She would go into his room and sit down on his bed and he would let himself be hugged. Sometimes, Bill would tell her about things that were on his mind, but most of the time he was silent with the growing hate for his father. Molly knew this and it bothered her greatly.
"Billy." said Molly quietly. "I wish you wouldn't hate your dad."
"I hate him." Bill said bitterly. "I'll always hate him."
"Please don't say that." Molly said, holding him close to her. "Everyone makes mistakes, Billy. You have to understand that."
"He left you and me to die." Bill said quietly. "I hate him."
By the time that Molly had put Bill to bed, she was tired. She sighed and started to make a thin soup for Arthur when he came home. The day after their old home burned down was the day that Arthur stopped drinking and trying to punish his children. He declared he would never touch alcohol again in his life and he would never lay a hand on his children; expect to pat them on the back or to give them a comforting hug. Molly appreciated this and felt the love for her dedicated husband grow steadily stronger and stronger every day.
He would come home about ten every night. She would be sitting at the dinner table, sipping a cup of hot water as his soup warmed up. Since the kitchen was in a corner of the house, she never heard him come in the door. She only knew he was home by the sound of the shower upstairs running. Molly laid her tired head on the table as she waited for her husband. She thought that it would be wise to use this time to think about things. Only, she felt so dumb and stupid from not finishing school that she wasn't quite sure she had the right to think.
Charlie was very charming. His hair was always wild, no matter how many times it was washed or combed. Molly knew she was very fortunate to have him born healthy, especially since there was a seventy-five percent chance he would have been a stillbirth. Bill may have been the most handsome little boy that she had ever seen, but Charlie was definitely the most charming. He had an endearing smile that Molly had been in love with since the minute he had begun to grow teeth. He was very innocent and naive, sometimes she wished she could steal some of his youth and give it back to Bill, who had been robbed of his.
Bill had once been a smiling, happy child. Now, he was solemn and quiet and reserved. Bill seemed to cling to Molly. Molly had no problem with it, if only he didn't hate his father so! Bill acted so much older then he actually was, and it was all Molly could do to stop from crying for her poor Billy.
"Hello." Arthur said, walking into the room, his long hair wet and not brushed.
"Hello." Molly said, hurriedly getting up.
She took the pot off of the stove and put it onto the table and began to ladle some of the thin soup into Arthur's bowl. He ran his hand through his tangled hair and looked up to her. She wasn't getting thinner anymore. Her eyes were usually dancing when he came home, but tonight, they seemed troubled and the tranquil blue that usually filled them was replaced with a lonely tone. He picked up the spoon and sampled some of the food put before him.
"Are the boys in bed?" He asked.
"I put Bill to sleep an hour ago." Molly responded quietly.
"Molly." Arthur said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." she said quietly.
"Of course there is. Tell me." Arthur said reaching across the table for her hand.
"Tell you what?" Molly demanded, on the verge of tears. She stood up, tearing her hand away. "Tell you that every night Bill tell me how much he hates you? Tell you that no matter what I do, he's been robbed of his youth? Tell you that and make you feel like scum, Arthur?"
Arthur looked at her for a few seconds and then looked back at his food and continued to eat. Molly sank back into her chair, wiping away the tears that were about to fall. She took the pot back to the stove and just stared at the thin soup for a long time. Arthur finished his meal and took it to their small sink that actually had running water. He began to rinse out his dish and spoon.
"I'm sorry." Molly said quietly. "I'm sorry Arthur."
"No, it's alright." he said, turning off the water and drying his hands on the dishrag. "It's not your fault anyway."
"There were more killings." Molly said, picking up the newspaper from the kitchen counter. "It doesn't seem like the killings will ever end, Arthur."
"They will end, someday." Arthur said thoughtfully. "Someday, a hero will rise among us and save us all. And I think that they will be the most remarkable unexpected person in the world."
"I never understood heroes." Molly said, taking Arthur's hand and leading him towards their bedroom. "I mean, you go and save everyone and that's good for you, but then what? There's no room for imagination! It's just fight and fight and then win! What's the point?"
"To confuse the great Molly Weasley, I suppose." Arthur said with a tired smile.
~-~-~-
"Mummy." Bill said.
Bill stood beside his mother's bed, clutching and old rag in his hands. She stirred and opened her eyes slowly. She sat up and slowly got out of bed, kneeling before her son.
"What's wrong?" she whispered.
"They're bleeding." he sobbed. "They hurt."
"Oh, Billy." Molly said, wrapping her arms around her son and picking him up. "Come on, we'll get them cleaned up."
Molly carried her crying son into the kitchen. She sat him on top of the counter. His hands were bleeding again. Often, Bill would have bad dreams of Voldemort and his father. Of which, his hands would start to bleed and hurt. He would wake up and alert his mother, who would take him into the kitchen and run cold, biting water over them. He would cringe and cry, but be very happy when it was all over and his mother could pat them dry with her pajamas.
"I hate daddy," he said bitterly. "I'll hate him forever and ever."
"Everyone makes mistakes." said Molly. "You have to understand that."
"Why do you care?" he snapped. "All you care about it Charlie and Daddy. I wish I were dead!"
"Billy!" Molly cried, embracing him. He pushed her away angrily.
"No! No!" he screamed.
"You're very important to me, Billy." she said.
"No I'm not." he said, sobbing.
"You know what the Healer told me today?" she said to him, picking him up and placing him on the table. "He told me that you are going to have another baby brother. Isn't that wonderful?"
"No. Now you're going to love him more then all of us." said an angry Bill.
"I can't seem to think of a name for him." said Molly quietly. "So, I want you to."
Bill's eyes grew wide. "You want me to name my brother?"
"Yes." she said. "Any name you want."
Bill took almost no time to decide. "I like the name Percival. Percy for short."
Molly stifled a laugh. "Where did you hear that name, Bill?"
"Nowhere." Bill shrugged. "But I like it."
"Right then." Molly nodded. "Percy it is."
~-~-~-
The next day, when Molly told Arthur that she was six months pregnant and was going to have a baby boy named Percival (Percy for short), Arthur blinked and then asked her where on earth she had managed to earth up such a ridiculous name. He suggested a few more common names. Ron. Michael. Charles. Nathan. But, nothing seemed to faze Molly. (You named Charlie! she had protested) Arthur had shook his head and smiled. He supposed the name Percival (Percy for short) had a lot of possibilities for personalities and such. He supposed that it sounded like an intelligent person's name and felt horrible for the child that was bound to be dumb because of his parents.
Every time the subject of Percy was brought up, Bill would sit and grin and enormous grin that seemed to stretch from ear to ear. Charlie would sit and frown a concerned frown, afraid his brother was going mad. When he prodded Bill to play with him, all he wanted to do was sit and listen to their parents talk of the new baby called Percy. Charlie thought it was the most boring thing in the world to listen to, but for one odd reason or another, Bill found it so wonderful that he had to listen. So, Charlie would go off and play all by himself, looking at the pictures in the storybook that his mother had bought for him for his birthday. Well, Charlie thought. Maybe Percy will be more fun then Bill.
"Bill." Charlie said. "Bill come and play."
"I'm busy." said Bill.
"No you're not." Charlie said. "You're just sitting there."
"I'm thinking." Bill said.
"I thought you said you were busy."
"I'm busy thinking."
"Then why didn't you say so?" Charlie said.
"Because you're too dumb to understand anyway." Bill said, getting up and walking away.
Charlie got up off of the cold wooden floor and followed after Bill. Behind him, he dragged his cotton blanket that he had inherited from Bill.
"Bill, read me a story." he said.
"No!" Bill yelled.
"Please, Bill!" Charlie whined.
"Get away from me, Charlie. I'm not going to read you a story." He said, quickening his pace.
Charlie stumbled into a run to keep up with Bill. "If you don't, I'll tell Mummy."
"Mummy doesn't care if I read you a story or not, stupid." Bill said.
"Daddy does! Daddy says you're mad! Daddy says you're a bad boy!" Charlie said.
"I don't care what Your Dad says!" Bill screamed. "I don't care!"
"I bet you mummy will read me a story." Charlie said. "I bet you that she'll read me a story better then you."
Bill turned around abruptly and took his scarred hands against his brother's chest. He shoved him down with all of the annoyance he felt at his brother being loved by their father and not him. The storybook flew from Charlie's hands and hit the hall wall with a loud slapping sound. Charlie fell back, stumbling with his balance before tripping on the fallen storybook. He fell down, hitting his head on the wall. He closed his eyes in shock, but then opened them to stare at his brother in awe. In fear. Tears sprung from his bright blue eyes and he sobbed and wailed loudly. Bill glared at his spoiled little brother until his mother rushed into the wind, carrying a pile of laundry.
"Mummy!" Charlie was wailing.
"What is it, Charlie?" Molly said, dropping the bundle in her arms and going to him. "Did you fall down?"
"Bill pushed me!" he screamed. "He pushed me down!"
"Shh ..." Molly hushed, picking him up. "Bill wouldn't do that."
"Bill's mean!" Charlie screamed. "Yes he would! Yes he would!"
"What's going on?" Arthur said, coming in the room.
"Arthur, will you take Charlie and get him washed up?" She said, handing the sobbing little child to her husband.
Molly sat on the hallway floor and let Bill crawl into her lap. He curled up against her, sobbing quietly. She wrapped her thin arms around him. "I'm a bad boy." he sobbed.
"No." Molly said, nestling her face in his hair. "You are a wonderful boy, Bill."
"But I hurt Charlie."
"We all make mistakes, Bill." said Molly. "It's alright."
"I love you best." He sobbed. "I love you more then I love Charlie or Daddy."
"Would you like to know a secret, Bill?" she said.
He nodded, calming down slightly.
"There is a magical place somewhere." she said. "Where there is only sunshine. And it's all yours Bill. One day, you will come to know it."
"I want to go there now." he said.
"Well, you could." Molly said. "But I would miss you terribly, Bill. Who would help me plant my flowers or finish the last of the cherry pies? It would be very quiet here without you. Even though Charlie or your Dad may not miss you as much as I, I know that I will. So will you stay here with me?"
Bill thought for a minute. "Yes." he said.
"Good man, Bill." she smiled, taking him in her arms and carrying him into the kitchen. "Would you like a glass of milk?"
"Does Charlie get one?" he said sourly.
"No." she said, handing him a glass. "Not tonight, Bill."
~-~-~-
A few months later, Percy was born. Arthur commented that he had blue eyes, just like his mother. The Healer had said that he thought that the baby looked very intelligent, and at this, Molly gave a shrill laugh and said it was impossible for babies to look anything but cute and adorable. Under Molly's bed, there was a box in which she kept all of her children's ribbons from when they were born. And it only gave her more pride in her heart to add Percy's ribbon. Arthur questioned her perseverance in keeping the ribbons, but she said that one day, he would thank her for it.
Arthur had been promoted to maintenance supervisor and was getting tutored by a man in Muggle Studies. Someday, he vowed, he would work in his very own cubicle. He would have his very own desk and even his own little nametag. It was his ultimate dream to become an Auror one day, and go off and save the day like some unlisted hero. To prove his worth in this world. One day, he brought home a strange muggle contraption that played music. When he showed it to his wife, she was amazed.
"Will you dance with me, My Molly?" he said, holding out his hand.
"Arthur, this is silly." she said. "Besides, I have to go and heat Percy's bottle ..."
"Just once?" he said.
"Oh, alright." she sighed, taking his hand.
Slowly, they swayed to the slow beat of the music. Molly found a million thoughts whirring through her head. The money that they didn't have, Percy's crying in the background. Bill's teddy bear on the floor. Charlie's toy dragon sitting on the kitchen table (Put it away this instant! she had yelled). Percy's crying. Arthur's hair that was still too long. The pillow on the sofa wasn't straight. Percy's crying. The fact that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Arthur's soft humming. Percy's crying. "Percy sounds upset." he commented.
"I'd better --"
"No." he said. "I think Bill has it all under control."
Bill could be heard trying to calm down his little brother and after a few feeble efforts, Percy quieted and all that could be heard was Charlie reading aloud to himself in his room. To her surprise, when she closed her eyes, she heard a heartbeat. For a second, she thought that it was her own brain, pulsating from the stress, and then she realized that it was Arthur's. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, with his eyes closed, slowly humming the music. She was suddenly aware that the music had stopped and that the only music left was that which Arthur was humming.
"Muggles are so lucky." he said slowly as Molly closed her eyes again.
"Really?" she sighed. "Why is that?"
"They've no idea of the horror that You-Know-Who is inflicting on us." he said. "And right now, I'd give anything not to know anything."
"Ignorance is bliss." she agreed.
"You know what I want more then anything in the world?" he said.
"A bowl of ice cream?"
He ignored her comment. "I want to be a hero."
"That's very vague." she said. "It sounds impossible."
"One day, My Molly." he said. "I will be a hero. I will become and Auror and train and become recognized and be in the paper."
"Is that what you would like to be when you grow up?" she giggled.
"When I grow up ..." Arthur repeated. "My Molly, I don't ever want to grow up, but I think all of these boys that we have will force me to very soon. I will soon see streaks of gray in my red hair."
"Whose hair will turn gray first, do you think?" she said whimsically. "Mine or yours?"
"Yours." said Arthur.
"I think yours will." said Molly, smiling.
"Why's that?"
"Because I want it to turn gray before mine." said Molly.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Neither does growing up." Molly retorted.
And as they danced there, Bill picked Percy up out of his crib and got Charlie from his bedroom. They opened the door just a crack so they could see and watched their two parents dance in the light of the Burrow Moon. Even little Percy seemed to be watching. Charlie was holding on to Bill's teddy bear, and for once, Bill didn't slap him to retrieve it. It was a time of peace, where everything around them just seemed oblivious and nothing mattered. It didn't seem like anything would matter. Because, thought Bill, if their parents didn't have to grow up, then why did they?
Growing up was impossible.
Charlie was the first child born into The Burrow. His parents had lived in a Shelter for victims for the months that his mother was pregnant with him. His father had been given a small raise at the Ministry and they were able to make a loan from Gringott's and were able to afford the house in the middle of a vast open field on a rich man's land that they called The Burrow. Charlie had always been fascinated with things. He was never satisfied with simple explanations about why certain things happened the way they did, he always had to ask: Why?
Bill was not a very good playmate for Charlie. As Bill seemed to favor his mother, Charlie favored his dad, for his dad was so much more fun then his mother, who spent all her time cleaning or attempting to cook. Bill steered clear of Charlie because, in his mind, going near Charlie meant going near his father. Whenever Charlie asked his mother why Bill didn't like him very much, she would wrap him in a hug and say to him in her singsong voice "Bill loves you very much. He's just shy."
Of course, Charlie loved his mother as well. He especially loved her when she would put him to bed precisely at eight-thirty. Bill was allowed to stay up until nine if he was quiet. Molly would stroke her son's red hair as he looked up at her with his blue eyes. Then, she would tell him wonderful stories of lands far away. She would tell him of lands where people could ride dragons into the sunset without being afraid of You-Know-Who. She told him of a place where he was allowed to run and play freely and not be afraid of being taken away. Charlie's favorite parts were the dragons.
"Would Bill ride the dragons with me?" he asked her. "Would he stop being shy?"
"Yes." Molly smiled. "Bill would ride the dragons with you."
"I'd like that." Charlie smiled.
"So would I, Charlie." said Molly.
Usually when Molly was finished putting Charlie to sleep, Bill was already in his bed, waiting for her. She would go into his room and sit down on his bed and he would let himself be hugged. Sometimes, Bill would tell her about things that were on his mind, but most of the time he was silent with the growing hate for his father. Molly knew this and it bothered her greatly.
"Billy." said Molly quietly. "I wish you wouldn't hate your dad."
"I hate him." Bill said bitterly. "I'll always hate him."
"Please don't say that." Molly said, holding him close to her. "Everyone makes mistakes, Billy. You have to understand that."
"He left you and me to die." Bill said quietly. "I hate him."
By the time that Molly had put Bill to bed, she was tired. She sighed and started to make a thin soup for Arthur when he came home. The day after their old home burned down was the day that Arthur stopped drinking and trying to punish his children. He declared he would never touch alcohol again in his life and he would never lay a hand on his children; expect to pat them on the back or to give them a comforting hug. Molly appreciated this and felt the love for her dedicated husband grow steadily stronger and stronger every day.
He would come home about ten every night. She would be sitting at the dinner table, sipping a cup of hot water as his soup warmed up. Since the kitchen was in a corner of the house, she never heard him come in the door. She only knew he was home by the sound of the shower upstairs running. Molly laid her tired head on the table as she waited for her husband. She thought that it would be wise to use this time to think about things. Only, she felt so dumb and stupid from not finishing school that she wasn't quite sure she had the right to think.
Charlie was very charming. His hair was always wild, no matter how many times it was washed or combed. Molly knew she was very fortunate to have him born healthy, especially since there was a seventy-five percent chance he would have been a stillbirth. Bill may have been the most handsome little boy that she had ever seen, but Charlie was definitely the most charming. He had an endearing smile that Molly had been in love with since the minute he had begun to grow teeth. He was very innocent and naive, sometimes she wished she could steal some of his youth and give it back to Bill, who had been robbed of his.
Bill had once been a smiling, happy child. Now, he was solemn and quiet and reserved. Bill seemed to cling to Molly. Molly had no problem with it, if only he didn't hate his father so! Bill acted so much older then he actually was, and it was all Molly could do to stop from crying for her poor Billy.
"Hello." Arthur said, walking into the room, his long hair wet and not brushed.
"Hello." Molly said, hurriedly getting up.
She took the pot off of the stove and put it onto the table and began to ladle some of the thin soup into Arthur's bowl. He ran his hand through his tangled hair and looked up to her. She wasn't getting thinner anymore. Her eyes were usually dancing when he came home, but tonight, they seemed troubled and the tranquil blue that usually filled them was replaced with a lonely tone. He picked up the spoon and sampled some of the food put before him.
"Are the boys in bed?" He asked.
"I put Bill to sleep an hour ago." Molly responded quietly.
"Molly." Arthur said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." she said quietly.
"Of course there is. Tell me." Arthur said reaching across the table for her hand.
"Tell you what?" Molly demanded, on the verge of tears. She stood up, tearing her hand away. "Tell you that every night Bill tell me how much he hates you? Tell you that no matter what I do, he's been robbed of his youth? Tell you that and make you feel like scum, Arthur?"
Arthur looked at her for a few seconds and then looked back at his food and continued to eat. Molly sank back into her chair, wiping away the tears that were about to fall. She took the pot back to the stove and just stared at the thin soup for a long time. Arthur finished his meal and took it to their small sink that actually had running water. He began to rinse out his dish and spoon.
"I'm sorry." Molly said quietly. "I'm sorry Arthur."
"No, it's alright." he said, turning off the water and drying his hands on the dishrag. "It's not your fault anyway."
"There were more killings." Molly said, picking up the newspaper from the kitchen counter. "It doesn't seem like the killings will ever end, Arthur."
"They will end, someday." Arthur said thoughtfully. "Someday, a hero will rise among us and save us all. And I think that they will be the most remarkable unexpected person in the world."
"I never understood heroes." Molly said, taking Arthur's hand and leading him towards their bedroom. "I mean, you go and save everyone and that's good for you, but then what? There's no room for imagination! It's just fight and fight and then win! What's the point?"
"To confuse the great Molly Weasley, I suppose." Arthur said with a tired smile.
~-~-~-
"Mummy." Bill said.
Bill stood beside his mother's bed, clutching and old rag in his hands. She stirred and opened her eyes slowly. She sat up and slowly got out of bed, kneeling before her son.
"What's wrong?" she whispered.
"They're bleeding." he sobbed. "They hurt."
"Oh, Billy." Molly said, wrapping her arms around her son and picking him up. "Come on, we'll get them cleaned up."
Molly carried her crying son into the kitchen. She sat him on top of the counter. His hands were bleeding again. Often, Bill would have bad dreams of Voldemort and his father. Of which, his hands would start to bleed and hurt. He would wake up and alert his mother, who would take him into the kitchen and run cold, biting water over them. He would cringe and cry, but be very happy when it was all over and his mother could pat them dry with her pajamas.
"I hate daddy," he said bitterly. "I'll hate him forever and ever."
"Everyone makes mistakes." said Molly. "You have to understand that."
"Why do you care?" he snapped. "All you care about it Charlie and Daddy. I wish I were dead!"
"Billy!" Molly cried, embracing him. He pushed her away angrily.
"No! No!" he screamed.
"You're very important to me, Billy." she said.
"No I'm not." he said, sobbing.
"You know what the Healer told me today?" she said to him, picking him up and placing him on the table. "He told me that you are going to have another baby brother. Isn't that wonderful?"
"No. Now you're going to love him more then all of us." said an angry Bill.
"I can't seem to think of a name for him." said Molly quietly. "So, I want you to."
Bill's eyes grew wide. "You want me to name my brother?"
"Yes." she said. "Any name you want."
Bill took almost no time to decide. "I like the name Percival. Percy for short."
Molly stifled a laugh. "Where did you hear that name, Bill?"
"Nowhere." Bill shrugged. "But I like it."
"Right then." Molly nodded. "Percy it is."
~-~-~-
The next day, when Molly told Arthur that she was six months pregnant and was going to have a baby boy named Percival (Percy for short), Arthur blinked and then asked her where on earth she had managed to earth up such a ridiculous name. He suggested a few more common names. Ron. Michael. Charles. Nathan. But, nothing seemed to faze Molly. (You named Charlie! she had protested) Arthur had shook his head and smiled. He supposed the name Percival (Percy for short) had a lot of possibilities for personalities and such. He supposed that it sounded like an intelligent person's name and felt horrible for the child that was bound to be dumb because of his parents.
Every time the subject of Percy was brought up, Bill would sit and grin and enormous grin that seemed to stretch from ear to ear. Charlie would sit and frown a concerned frown, afraid his brother was going mad. When he prodded Bill to play with him, all he wanted to do was sit and listen to their parents talk of the new baby called Percy. Charlie thought it was the most boring thing in the world to listen to, but for one odd reason or another, Bill found it so wonderful that he had to listen. So, Charlie would go off and play all by himself, looking at the pictures in the storybook that his mother had bought for him for his birthday. Well, Charlie thought. Maybe Percy will be more fun then Bill.
"Bill." Charlie said. "Bill come and play."
"I'm busy." said Bill.
"No you're not." Charlie said. "You're just sitting there."
"I'm thinking." Bill said.
"I thought you said you were busy."
"I'm busy thinking."
"Then why didn't you say so?" Charlie said.
"Because you're too dumb to understand anyway." Bill said, getting up and walking away.
Charlie got up off of the cold wooden floor and followed after Bill. Behind him, he dragged his cotton blanket that he had inherited from Bill.
"Bill, read me a story." he said.
"No!" Bill yelled.
"Please, Bill!" Charlie whined.
"Get away from me, Charlie. I'm not going to read you a story." He said, quickening his pace.
Charlie stumbled into a run to keep up with Bill. "If you don't, I'll tell Mummy."
"Mummy doesn't care if I read you a story or not, stupid." Bill said.
"Daddy does! Daddy says you're mad! Daddy says you're a bad boy!" Charlie said.
"I don't care what Your Dad says!" Bill screamed. "I don't care!"
"I bet you mummy will read me a story." Charlie said. "I bet you that she'll read me a story better then you."
Bill turned around abruptly and took his scarred hands against his brother's chest. He shoved him down with all of the annoyance he felt at his brother being loved by their father and not him. The storybook flew from Charlie's hands and hit the hall wall with a loud slapping sound. Charlie fell back, stumbling with his balance before tripping on the fallen storybook. He fell down, hitting his head on the wall. He closed his eyes in shock, but then opened them to stare at his brother in awe. In fear. Tears sprung from his bright blue eyes and he sobbed and wailed loudly. Bill glared at his spoiled little brother until his mother rushed into the wind, carrying a pile of laundry.
"Mummy!" Charlie was wailing.
"What is it, Charlie?" Molly said, dropping the bundle in her arms and going to him. "Did you fall down?"
"Bill pushed me!" he screamed. "He pushed me down!"
"Shh ..." Molly hushed, picking him up. "Bill wouldn't do that."
"Bill's mean!" Charlie screamed. "Yes he would! Yes he would!"
"What's going on?" Arthur said, coming in the room.
"Arthur, will you take Charlie and get him washed up?" She said, handing the sobbing little child to her husband.
Molly sat on the hallway floor and let Bill crawl into her lap. He curled up against her, sobbing quietly. She wrapped her thin arms around him. "I'm a bad boy." he sobbed.
"No." Molly said, nestling her face in his hair. "You are a wonderful boy, Bill."
"But I hurt Charlie."
"We all make mistakes, Bill." said Molly. "It's alright."
"I love you best." He sobbed. "I love you more then I love Charlie or Daddy."
"Would you like to know a secret, Bill?" she said.
He nodded, calming down slightly.
"There is a magical place somewhere." she said. "Where there is only sunshine. And it's all yours Bill. One day, you will come to know it."
"I want to go there now." he said.
"Well, you could." Molly said. "But I would miss you terribly, Bill. Who would help me plant my flowers or finish the last of the cherry pies? It would be very quiet here without you. Even though Charlie or your Dad may not miss you as much as I, I know that I will. So will you stay here with me?"
Bill thought for a minute. "Yes." he said.
"Good man, Bill." she smiled, taking him in her arms and carrying him into the kitchen. "Would you like a glass of milk?"
"Does Charlie get one?" he said sourly.
"No." she said, handing him a glass. "Not tonight, Bill."
~-~-~-
A few months later, Percy was born. Arthur commented that he had blue eyes, just like his mother. The Healer had said that he thought that the baby looked very intelligent, and at this, Molly gave a shrill laugh and said it was impossible for babies to look anything but cute and adorable. Under Molly's bed, there was a box in which she kept all of her children's ribbons from when they were born. And it only gave her more pride in her heart to add Percy's ribbon. Arthur questioned her perseverance in keeping the ribbons, but she said that one day, he would thank her for it.
Arthur had been promoted to maintenance supervisor and was getting tutored by a man in Muggle Studies. Someday, he vowed, he would work in his very own cubicle. He would have his very own desk and even his own little nametag. It was his ultimate dream to become an Auror one day, and go off and save the day like some unlisted hero. To prove his worth in this world. One day, he brought home a strange muggle contraption that played music. When he showed it to his wife, she was amazed.
"Will you dance with me, My Molly?" he said, holding out his hand.
"Arthur, this is silly." she said. "Besides, I have to go and heat Percy's bottle ..."
"Just once?" he said.
"Oh, alright." she sighed, taking his hand.
Slowly, they swayed to the slow beat of the music. Molly found a million thoughts whirring through her head. The money that they didn't have, Percy's crying in the background. Bill's teddy bear on the floor. Charlie's toy dragon sitting on the kitchen table (Put it away this instant! she had yelled). Percy's crying. Arthur's hair that was still too long. The pillow on the sofa wasn't straight. Percy's crying. The fact that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Arthur's soft humming. Percy's crying. "Percy sounds upset." he commented.
"I'd better --"
"No." he said. "I think Bill has it all under control."
Bill could be heard trying to calm down his little brother and after a few feeble efforts, Percy quieted and all that could be heard was Charlie reading aloud to himself in his room. To her surprise, when she closed her eyes, she heard a heartbeat. For a second, she thought that it was her own brain, pulsating from the stress, and then she realized that it was Arthur's. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, with his eyes closed, slowly humming the music. She was suddenly aware that the music had stopped and that the only music left was that which Arthur was humming.
"Muggles are so lucky." he said slowly as Molly closed her eyes again.
"Really?" she sighed. "Why is that?"
"They've no idea of the horror that You-Know-Who is inflicting on us." he said. "And right now, I'd give anything not to know anything."
"Ignorance is bliss." she agreed.
"You know what I want more then anything in the world?" he said.
"A bowl of ice cream?"
He ignored her comment. "I want to be a hero."
"That's very vague." she said. "It sounds impossible."
"One day, My Molly." he said. "I will be a hero. I will become and Auror and train and become recognized and be in the paper."
"Is that what you would like to be when you grow up?" she giggled.
"When I grow up ..." Arthur repeated. "My Molly, I don't ever want to grow up, but I think all of these boys that we have will force me to very soon. I will soon see streaks of gray in my red hair."
"Whose hair will turn gray first, do you think?" she said whimsically. "Mine or yours?"
"Yours." said Arthur.
"I think yours will." said Molly, smiling.
"Why's that?"
"Because I want it to turn gray before mine." said Molly.
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Neither does growing up." Molly retorted.
And as they danced there, Bill picked Percy up out of his crib and got Charlie from his bedroom. They opened the door just a crack so they could see and watched their two parents dance in the light of the Burrow Moon. Even little Percy seemed to be watching. Charlie was holding on to Bill's teddy bear, and for once, Bill didn't slap him to retrieve it. It was a time of peace, where everything around them just seemed oblivious and nothing mattered. It didn't seem like anything would matter. Because, thought Bill, if their parents didn't have to grow up, then why did they?
Growing up was impossible.