A/N: Okay, this is my first try at writing Molly and I think the characterization is a bit off. I'm not sure, though, so judge for yourself.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and friends. I own the plot.
War can be kind sometimes.
War certainly forces interesting bonds on people.
You're sitting in the house of a man charged with murder, a werewolf on one side of you and a Metamorphmagus on the other.
It occurs to you that your situation would look very peculiar to someone who didn't know the circumstances.
"There's an owl here! I'll get him, Molly!" The cheery voice of Tonks awakens you from your reading.
"Mind the pudding, Tonks!" The words are barely out of your mouth before you hear the crash. It's not remotely surprising, but still exasperating.
"Oh! Sorry again! Didn't see that chair over there." Tonks says, still cheerful.
You see the corner of Remus's mouth twitch, but his eyes remain focused intently on his own book.
"It's alright, dear. Who's the owl for?" You bookmark the page and flick your wand. "Reparo." The pudding returns to its former spot, unscathed.
"Is it for us?" Two heads appear in the doorway. Fred and George have appeared and, naturally, head immediately for the pudding.
You slap George's hand away from the pudding. "Why? What are you expecting?" Of course, you're immediately suspicious. The two of them and contact with the outside world rarely ends well.
"Nothing!" They say in unison.
"Honestly, Mum! Have a little faith." George adds, rubbing his hand.
"I think it's for you, Molly." Tonks has taken the package from the owl and is now carefully walking over to you.
"Thank you, dear." You say kindly. Then, your heart stops.
You recognize the slow, deliberate, handwriting that's written on the package; you'd recognize it anywhere.
It's Percy's handwriting.
"Is that from…?" Fred doesn't finish his sentence. Both he and George are looking at the parcel suspiciously.
Remus walks over as well. Now, all five of you are staring at the parcel, motionless.
'Don't get your hopes up, Molly…why would he send a Christmas present? You haven't spoken to him in ages.' The voice inside your head says. But you're hopes are already up. "It's…from Percy." You hate how squeaky your voice has become.
You're vaguely aware of a look that passes between Fred and George. You only hazily notice Tonks fidget uncomfortably. When Remus speaks, it sounds like it's coming from miles away. "Maybe…you should wait for Arthur to get home, Molly." His soft voice says.
But you don't hear it. You won't hear it. You're a child on her birthday, fingers itching to open the next present. Your hands are shaking as they rip off the brown paper. You suck in a breath right before you remove the last of the brown paper.
What you see breaks your heart in two.
He's sent his Christmas jumper back.
Was it surprising, really? Probably not.
'Now, Molly. Did you really expect him to keep it? To wear it proudly into work the next day? Of course not, he said it himself. He wants nothing to do with his family. Nothing to do with you.' She lets out a little laugh of embarrassment.
Fred and George look outraged. "Forget about him, Mum!" Fred says.
"Yeah," George adds. "He's nothing more than a humongous pile of rat droppings!"
You're not really listening to them. You're a bit preoccupied raging a war against the tears threatening to pour down your cheeks. 'Molly, you're the mother. You're job is to comfort those crying, not to cry yourself! You're much too old for this.'
"Molly…are you alright?" Tonks asks softly.
You open your mouth to tell her that you're fine, dear, but thank you for your concern. All that comes out, however, is a sob.
"We'll let you handle this." Fred and George say to Remus before disappearing up the stairs.
You're vision is almost completely obscured by tears, but you can see Tonks go put some tea on.
Remus says some comforting words as he pats you gingerly on the shoulder and hands you a tissue.
You don't really hear them, though.
And when Tonks hands you a cup of tea and a look of sympathy, you smile and thank her.
They're gestures are of good intentions and kindness, you know that.
But there's a void in you that no one can fill. A piece of your heart is with your most prodigal son, whom you may never see again.
War can do that, you admit to yourself.
War brought you and Arthur together.
War brought the Order together.
War has brought you closer to the defeat of You-Know-Who.
But war has done something so terrible, that everything else is moot.
War has ripped your family apart. And that is the worst crime of all.
Please review, I'm really trying to improve. :-) Thanks for reading.