this story is a massive AU. the characters are as IC as i can make them, but it's not very HP (i know, but the regular HP plotlines of a war happening, etc, just doesn't go with the story.) i just don't want to make too many allusions to canon when it doesn't fit the narrative. the character's personalities are still as canonically correct as i can make them, with it being hard, of course to keep Molly as IC as possible, though i think that some people portray a crazy Molly really well and still keep her IC because i think she's inherently a very controlling personality and it should be easy to write a controlling personality as such. and it's actually from those hints where this plotline just kind of came from in the first place.

i think that i'm going to rotate point of views throughout the story, with very little or even none (i haven't decided yet) written from Percy's perspective since i think that'll make this story nicer to read, whereas usually, as you all know, i like to mostly write Percy POV stories. but i think for what i want to do with this story it'll be nicer if i write this way. and for those of who that haven't read anything i've written, i can write things pretty dark and in graphic details so trigger warnings for graphic descriptions of child abuse, manipulation, and just this very toxic background.

as everyone knows, i write a lot of toxic Weasley family stories. this is not going to be any different. i want to see how bad i can make it and still keep it as IC as possible.

i edited this pretty quick so hopefully it's alright. i didn't have to change around much so i think it's ready for posting! also, i wasn't going to post this because i've already had a few stories ongoing, but to be honest, the first 3-4 chapters of this is already written so...

The Mother Who Cried Werewolf

Prologue

There was a stifling uncharacteristic humidity well into the October of that year when Molly and Arthur had been to Molly's routine post-partum healer's appointment. The office was so remote that Arthur felt the need to tell Molly that it would be a fine location for a safe house every single time they were in. The actual clinic itself was bristling with more punters than Diagon Alley in its glory days. The glossy off-white waiting chairs outside looked like they were about to collapse under the weight of a quill. The ill walked in, tucked behind hooded robes, with missing appendages and magical wheelchairs. There was more blood in the waiting room than in Molly's delivery. Mums sat with their multicoloured prams and waxen babies that wouldn't take any of their feeds.

Arthur must be taking in the same sights as her because he squeezed her hand and said, "You're alright, aren't you?"

"I'm fine," Molly wasn't fine. She was sick of exchanging homemade chicken and mushroom pie recipes with Arthur's sisters and pretending that she was in the throes of ecstasy when he pecked her cheek before she left for work.

His eyes glanced over to a pale, sweaty child and he shuddered. "And Percy, he's…?"

"He's your son, Arthur," Molly replied back hotly. "Shouldn't you know?"

Arthur glanced over at their son, who was fast asleep in their pram. "Yes, well…"

"Well?"

She could feel her marriage falling apart by the hour, and she didn't even care. Her husband might as well grace the face in missing posters because he seemed to have forgotten that he even had children to begin with! He hadn't tucked six-year-old Bill in bed or read four-year-old Charlie a bedtime story in ages.

Molly hadn't minded at all when she was pregnant, but then she went through the longest labour in her life. Percy's head got stuck when they were trying to get him out and they had to try and use a vacuuming spell whilst his husband went on about his precious muggle toys in the background. She should've murdered him right then and there.

And when that glop of sticky, squelching limbs came out, she didn't even want to see it. She didn't feel the same glow that she felt when she got to hold Bill and Charlie. After she delivered them, she wanted them in her arms immediately. But with Percy, she didn't even want to see him until he was properly cleaned and dressed up. And when she had a look at him with his red face, blue eyes and tuft of fine hair, she felt like they'd brought back the wrong baby. She found him revolting to look at, positively stomach-turning. She fantasised about throwing him out of the window the second they planted him in her arms.

"He's wrong since he's been born," Molly said. "There's nothing right about him. He's not like Bill or Charlie."

"Yes, well, every baby is different, aren't they?" Arthur tried to comfort her.

"He needs to be fed every hour," Molly mumbled in irritation. "Needs that bottle magically attached to him at all times."

Arthur found that amusing. "I thought he was alright."

"When do you get to see him to decide that, love?"

"It's just he seems very normal that is. That's what I meant," he answered. "Well, he is a bit fussy…"

"Yes, well as long as he doesn't wake you up," Molly was stressed with this baby. She forgot to mention that he would only take one brand of wizarding formula. You'd have thought if your child was shrieking hungry within the hour, he'd take anything, but not dear, lovely Percival needed to have his specific formula at a specific temperature to have it. In her greatest dreams, she dreamed of putting him into a box and owling him off somewhere far away.

"Sweetheart, I'm trying my best," Arthur pleaded. "I can't work double shifts, come home and spend the whole night looking after him."

"No, but I have to be awake all night for the little spoiled prince," Molly said that last bit with annoyance.

Speaking of the prince and he should arise, staring at Molly expectantly and waiting for his bottle. She knew that within a couple of minutes, he'd be shrieking for that bottle if she didn't give it to him. She'd magically prepared it before they left. She didn't bother taking him out of the pram to feed him. With a flick of her wand, he was magically being fed by the bottle.

With Bill and Charlie, they let her know when they were done with their feed. Percy continued to suck the bottle hungrily even when he was done. He had no bloody stop button. He'd kill himself overfeeding she was sure.

The only available chair was one that was next to a young woman that was eating crisps so noisily that Molly felt like snatching it away from her because she was sure that was what woke her demon up from his sleep. Her own little girl (and Molly could only tell because the pram was decorated like a Quiberon Quafflepunchers poster) was safely nestled in blankets. She was sleeping like no one else's business. "I don't think that's safe," the young woman said.

"Mind your own business," Molly told her. She better count her lucky stars that she didn't have a horrific baby.

"Love, I think she may be right," Arthur tried to plead with her.

"You feed him," she said. She knew Arthur knew how to hold a bottle as much as she knew how to play Quidditch.

When Molly was called, she took the bottle away from him. Percy looked at her like she'd committed murder right in front of him. She pushed he pram to the healer's office with about as much enthusiasm as she used to have in her Potions classes.

Room five had a Healer Cameron sitting behind a dark desk. The room was almost bare, save for a few specialised pale wands kept in glass boxes to be used for emergencies. The fact that there was a war going on had obviously gone over her head. There was a poster near her glossy desk that said STAY SAFE. That was bloody great advice, wasn't it? A war looming, stay safe. As if it were in your hands when safe houses were being ransacked everywhere.

Healer Cameron instantly lit up when she saw Percy lying in his pram. That was when Molly decided she didn't like her. He was well overdue for his six-week check-up and was nearing closer to eight months old having his first look into the hospital.

Percy lapped up the attention like a little crup. He threw his arms out, wanting to be picked up.

The healer had him propped up the examination table. He'd already been weighed and measured outside. He's so small, the nurse said. Molly had no idea how, but she reckoned that he wouldn't stay that way for long. Next year, she'd be rocking up with a porker for a son. They stuck a thermometer up his bum in that room, and he hadn't forgotten about that. He was livid for the first few minutes afterwards and now; he had refused to look at Molly unless he wanted his bottle.

"Hey there, little man," healer Cameron crooned when she'd had him on the table. He made no sound outside but when he was at home, he'd have shrieked until Molly's ears started ringing. "You're so quiet. No need for any silencing charms to block out any safe house you'd be at, hmm?" she stroked Percy's hair and he got a kick out of the attention.

After he was docile enough and had stopped moving around the table, she had a listen to his chest and a feel of his head for those bumps that babies had in their heads. She wasn't sure about them, but all the healers did it to see whether or not they were open, closed and whatnot.

"He needs to be fed at least three times an hour," Molly told healer Cameron before she opened her mouth to tell Molly that he was a perfect angel. "Keeps me up all night. I've thought about throwing him off a window a few times." She didn't care about how angry she sounded. "I've never had one like him before." She'd tried mixing in a sleeping potion with his milk before, but he'd refused to drink it. The little bloody shite.

"Well, every baby is different," healer Cameron said.

Arthur perked up. "Yes, that's what I've said," he wasted no time in saying.

Molly's eyes were so bloodshot that she bet it looked likes she'd been clocked in the face.

"He's shown his first bit of magic too," Molly was not proud of him for what he'd done. "He'd made the whole front wall explode because I hadn't immediately put what I was doing to feed him."

"He does look a little hungry," healer Cameron was acting like Molly wasn't feeding him. When she'd put a finger into his mouth to test his sucking reflex, he didn't let go, which was as much as Molly suspected. He was always like that. He was just at the bottle! Just now! Before he'd been into the office. But Healer Cameron was looking at him like she was starving him. "I know that money is tight, but maybe he might need to be fed more often." Molly could see Arthur bite down his lower lip when she'd mentioned the money. They'd splashed out a lot of money on that little monster already.

"Pardon me?" how did she know that 'money was tight'? Just by looking at her and seeing her hair and dotted skin?

Then she had the audacity to say, "And those formulas aren't meant to be watered down."

"I know that."

"I don't mean to offend you, Mrs Weasley—"

"You don't mean to offend me? Are you sure about that?"

Molly Weasley had never fucking watered down her child's formula feed to save a quick sickle. She snatched Percy off the table, and of course, him being the little shite that he was, started shrieking like he was being kidnapped.

"I do NOT water down my son's formula!" she yelled into this woman's face. "And he is not a bloody angel that doesn't need a silencing charm! He cries all night. I never sleep! I wish he's never been born! I HATE him!"

Arthur could piss off too! He had no reason to be raving mad. He had slept well, out like a rock at ten every night whilst she tried to feed a temperamental infant that had no interest in having his top-off at three in the morning but kept screaming about wanting to be fed. Sometimes, her husband acted like she'd had an immaculate conception.

"Molly," Arthur was looking at her with a shocked expression. "Molly, love. It's alright. I promise I'll help more."

"Let's go right now," Molly told Arthur as she placed Percy down in his pram. "Now."

"She hasn't been sleeping these days," Arthur explained to healer Cameron.

She was the one that was suffering because of this ickle sweet baby! Molly couldn't sneeze anymore without feeling a surge of urine soak her underpants. Her size-four body now ballooned to a fourteen. She had not slept in so long that she was always a little dizzy, no matter how many sweet rolls she ate.

"Mrs Weasley, I don't think you should be leaving…" healer Cameron looked uncertain.

"Love, let's sit down and talk about this," Arthur insisted.

"Let's sit down and talk about this," Molly reiterated, mocking Arthur.

Just as she was about to leave the room, she felt her legs start to shake and before she'd realised what had happened, her body gave way, and she smacked her head at the edge of the healer's desk.

As she woke up, she heard through the swirly fog the sound of the healer talking to Arthur. Even when she was passed out, she couldn't have a proper nap. All she could think about was how much she regretted letting one child wreck her family unit so badly. As she sat up from the ground, she could feel Arthur gently stroke her hair and kiss the side of her forehead. She swore that she could see some tears glistening in his eyes. Molly enjoyed the moment for about three seconds until she heard healer bloody Cameron say, "I think that your wife is not well, Mr Weasley. I think that she needs to be evaluated properly by a psychiatric healer. I don't think she's in her right state of affairs to be taking care of a baby." And that made Molly furious! Who was this woman that thought she knew everything about her?

Molly stood up like she hadn't just collapsed.

"Molly!" her spineless coward of a husband cried out. "Molly, sit down! You're not well!"

"Fuck off!" Molly shrieked back at him, taking Percy in his pram and walking away from them. "I can take care of my own bloody baby just fine without your help!" He just stared at her like he didn't know what the problem was. Oh, this woman was a healer now, was she? She wasn't well! Of course, she wasn't well. She had breast milk leaking into her bra and her precious baby didn't want it.

At home, Arthur approached her with a scared look on his face. He told her to tell her to rest up whilst he looked after Percy that night. He disappeared into their shared bathroom to take off his tie and clothes. Percy chose this moment to cry out when his father had left the room. Molly grabbed her six-month-old son and purposefully smacked him against the bars of his own cot, a small barely audible thud making out a sound. Percy was so stunned that he stopped crying.

"If you make another sound, I'll strangle you myself," she said calmly, and she was surprised at how much she actually meant it.